Lack of change lent itself to the illusion that time did not pass in the oubliette. Every moment felt the same as the last, and the only thing that dispelled the misconception was the change of guards every so often in the outer hall. The flow of air was weak and the minimal light around his cell remained steady. No signs of night or day ever reached Sombra, and he realized he actually missed the sight of the sun and the moon in the sky.
The moon…
“I’m such a fool,” he whispered as quietly as he could, the sound almost vanishing in the capacious cell. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought or said the words in the past months. To think it had taken sneering exposition from the queen of Changelings and recapture by the bearers of the Elements of Harmony to realize this simply made it all the more humiliating. He hadn’t once stopped to consider the effect his coy flirtations might actually have on Princess Luna, and now… well, now it was too late to make right the situation. He had practically offered Luna up on a silver platter to the Changelings when he thought she had double-crossed him. There was no way in any lifetime she would ever forgive him now.
And if I’m honest with myself, I deserve every ounce of her ire, his thoughts added miserably. It was a difficult thing to acknowledge, but in a way it was too true to deny. He was certain that if Luna appeared right at that moment and spewed all the venom of her pain at him in an angry torrent of words, he would not lift a hoof to stop her. He deserved all of her anger and hatred, and in a way he wished he could just hear from her how hurt she was. At least knowing would give him some form of closure.
He shifted his weight where he lay on his stomach, turning his gaze to the far end of his cell. Instantly his eye fell upon the small tome lying on the floor, the only other thing in there with him. A sense of guilt churned and twisted in his gut, and his chest felt icy-cold and hollow beneath his ribcage. By this point, he had almost every word in it memorized. He had read it often, nearly every waking moment, pouring and agonizing and weeping over its contents.
The book was Princess Luna’s personal journal, brought to him by Princess Celestia not long after his recapture. It was a cruel sort of gift, but then she hadn’t given it to him with the intention of making him feel better. She wanted him to realize the full extent to which he had wounded her sister, to understand how Luna had begun feeling toward him before he had so cruelly turned on her.
Well, I understand now, he thought bitterly. I think I understand how she felt better than I can understand myself at this moment in time.
The icy coldness behind his ribs contracted sharply and he stiffened in pain. Several minutes passed before the pain eased and he was able to relax his muscles, exhaling raggedly. The pains and sense of frigid emptiness had begun sometime after he’d first read the journal. Initially he had been stunned and confused; what could possibly be causing this?! It wasn’t guilt because guilt was hot and sickening, almost crippling. But when he finally thought of what it could truly possibly be, he refuse to contemplate it further. The idea was frightening and robbed him of more hope than it gave him.
As he was waiting and considering reading through the journal entries again, an unexpected question suddenly jolted him out of his self-pitying.
“Aawww, why the long face, King Spooky-Boots?”
He sat upright, looking around in suspicion for the source of the voice. A creature was standing on the other side of the enchanted bars and leaning forward to get a better look at him, a creature he had only seen before in books of ancient legends. It stood bipedally and tapped eagle talons against one of the bars absently, studying him for a response. Sombra struggled to think of something to say, and found that nothing came to mind. After a second the draconequus glanced around the austere, cavernous room and grimaced.
“Then again, with a room like this I’d be pretty gloomed out, too,” he remarked. A light flicked on in Sombra’s mind. Draconequi had been rare enough ten thousand years ago, and they had to be even fewer in number by now. But there was one who was mentioned even regularly now, and even he was unique among his kind.
“Discord,” he said, stating the question rather than asking it outright, and he was rewarded when the draconequus’s eyes snapped right back onto him.
“Oh good, you have heard of me!”
Sombra arched a brow. “Is there anypony who hasn’t?” he muttered. “To what do I owe this, ah, visit?”
“What?” Discord said in a tone of false innocence, looking vaguely affronted. Then to the unicorn’s astonishment, Discord launched himself forward and slid between the bars of the cell, coming to a floating halt before Sombra. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on thin air as he planted his chin in his paws and grinned. “Can’t a fellow just come down and have a leisurely chat with a passing acquaintance?”
Sombra’s jaw dropped open as he looked from the draconequus to the bars and back again. Even his ears fell back against his mane as he continued to gape, stunned. There was no possible way for what he had just witnessed to occur! The cell was enchanted by alicorn magic, and all his own efforts to circumvent the warding in the past had been fruitless. “H-how… how did you—?”
“Let’s not worry about details, they drag a conversation down,” Discord interrupted, looking far too smug and pleased with himself. He reached out, poking Sombra’s nose a couple of times. “I’m here to offer you an invaluable and otherwise unattainable opportunity.”
The unicorn stared at him with a flat expression, his astonishment gone. “You come with a sales pitch,” he observed dryly.
“Naturally!” Discord stopped floating to stand beside him, draping an arm around Sombra’s shoulders. “Why, three-fifths of winning over somepony is a good sales pitch!”
Sombra squirmed out from under the draconequus’s talons, annoyed and mildly put-off by the too-casual physical contact and self advertising. What did this obnoxious entity want with him, anyway? He had nothing to offer that Discord would likely deem valuable and even if he did, he doubted Discord couldn’t just take whatever he wanted when he so pleased. Perhaps he’d just popped into this place to torment him. It was possible; Sombra had heard many tales of the chaos-spirit tormenting ponies purely for the sake of his own amusement.
“I’ll take your word for that,” he grumbled. “Why are you here? This is hardly a start to just some ‘leisurely chat’, no matter what you may pretend.”
“Who’s pretending anything? You see, my dear King Spooky-Boots—”
Sombra fought the urge to make gagging sounds. He despised this nickname already.
“I’m here to see what you think of the annual Grand Galloping Gala!” Discord extended his lion’s paw, uncurling it to flip out a small money piece. “Bit for your thoughts?”
Sombra snorted, flicking his ears back as he turned away. “Pah! Little more than an excuse for high society to mingle with the rabble. And both sides treat it as if it’s such a rare opportunity.” He strode a few paces away and sat down, proudly holding his head high as he tossed back his mane. “The barriers between royalty and commoners continually dissolve in this decade. Either way, it matters little. I had little use for parties when I ruled over the Crystal Empire and I have less use for them now. The Grand Galloping Gala holds no interest for me.”
“Really?” Discord asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “None at all? None whatsoever?”
Sombra shook his head, and his unwanted visitor’s next words caught him off-guard.
“Aww, that’s too bad. I thought you’d want to try it out this year. Princess Luna is in charge of managing the theme and decorations this time.”
The sharp, cold feeling in the hollow behind his ribs returned with a vengeance. He exhaled slowly, feeling the breath shudder down his spine as it left him. She was in charge of the gala this year? He tried imagining what it would look like, as seen through her eyes.
It would be beautiful. Dark and enchanting, sublime and resplendent in the way that only the night can be.
His mind jumped back to the last time he had seen her, with tears streaming from her eyes, angry and hurt as he turned her over to the Changelings.
“That’s…” he started to speak, only to find his throat was constricting tightly. He swallowed and tried to clear his throat, taking a couple of deep breaths before attempting to speak again. “That’s wonderful for her. Marvelous. I’m sure she will throw a gala unlike any other seen in Canterlot.”
“And?” Discord’s upside-down face suddenly loomed up in his range of vision. “Don't you want to see it?”
Sombra scowled. This heathen had no concept of personal space. “Of course I want to see her,” he snapped, then quickly amending, “ah, it. But in the event you hadn’t noticed, I’m more than a little stuck in here. And besides,” he added, turning his face away to look at the ground as he lowered his voice. “I doubt she wants me to see me ever again, anyway.”
“Well,” Discord said, stroking his goatee pensively. “I can help you make at least one of those things not a problem anymore.”
There was a clunking groan of metal and Sombra glanced to the side to see Discord’s tail wrapped around one of the bars, bending it as though it were made of putty. On a second glance, it did seem to be made of putty. Sombra lifted his eyebrows high. He worked his mouth for a moment, finally giving a small nod as his ears flicked toward the draconequus.
“Alright, I’m listening.”