Executing the Execution
The peculiar miracle, if that word could be applied to the curious transformation of the crystal dungeon, held the guard’s attention for only a few seconds. Then, the crystal on her helmet glimmered and turned a milky white once more, the color of a blind eye. She raised a hoof and touched the wall. The color seemed to shift slightly, and the manacles binding the Time Lord’s limbs relinquished their hold, sending him falling unceremoniously to the ground. “Oof! Bloody ow!” the Doctor grumbled as the guard promptly snapped a metal collar around his neck.
The Doctor glared at the guard with little heat. She wasn’t in control of her own actions, her own mind. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how much of the original mare was in there, if any. She trotted out of the cell. The Doctor paused and decided that he’d much rather stay where he was.
It was quite a surprise, therefore, when he found himself on his hooves, trotting after the guard, matching her pace, each step taken perfectly in time, like the ticking of a watch or the swing of a pendulum. The Doctor tried to stop, to stumble, to change course. His hooves hit the floor in perfect rhythm. In the fractured mirrors of the crystal halls, he could just glimpse the stygian collar around his neck, a glimmer of blind milk-white crystal at the forefront.
Sombra stared dully at the exit from the catacombs of stone. When he exited, he would be in Diamond Court. He would be surrounded by crystal once more, back under the control of… it. A living hell, his desires twisted and warped beyond recognition.
And he would be forced to execute an innocent. He had hoped so desperately that the Doctor would escape. But now the desperation had become despair. There was no way out for either of them now. He lifted a hoof to the wall, ready to depart, when he saw it. A faint green glow in the darkness.
His heart seized. Had the entity pierced his inner sanctum? Had the crystals finally dug into the rock? But then, wonder of wonders, the glow moved, furtive, trying to avoid detection. A living thing, trapped in the caverns. It was all that the Sombra could do to suppress his joy. He had to disguise his emotions, lest they be sensed by the King when he exited the caverns. I am hallucinating, he told himself. It is an illusion, and nothing more. I am lighting my horn solely for the benefit of my tired eyes.
A red glow suffused the cavern, turning the stone walls to brick. Sombra’s eyes flickered over to where he had last seen the green glow. It was no longer there. Clever enough to hide, then. Good. Slowly, carefully, he fit the tip of his hoof into the tiny space in the rock that triggered the opening of the door. At the last moment he paused. His face hardened. His other forehoof snaked up to his throat, catching under the edge of his collar. Any advantage was a good advantage, despite the punishment that would come later.
For the first time in over a decade, Sombra broke off the collar of his cloak, sending the gems scattering along the ground. The dark velvet slid off of his shoulders back toward his tail, revealing a scarred form, slim around the barrel but with distinct muscles. It also revealed his flanks, which were covered with plain brown saddlebags. With a fierce expression on his face, he pushed the hidden catch in the rock and turned to face the doorway.
He extinguished the glow of his horn as crystal light slowly suffused the cavern, grey and unwelcoming. He closed his eyes, trying once again to hold on, to keep control, fading away into noth—
King Sombra’s eyes snapped open. A slow smile crawled across his face. Soon, the meddling Doctor would trouble him no more. Soon, the army of Equestria would be under his command, its rulers subservient to his will. It was then that he noticed the broken collar and missing cloak, and a scowl traced his features for a second. His alter-ego would pay for that. But later, after the show was over.
He stepped out of the cavern, metal shoes crashing against the crystal floor, crown gleaming greasily in the false light of crystal, red gems sitting on his head like frozen blood. Behind him, the door slid shut with a low rumble.
Where he could not see, faint green light splayed over rock, mixing with the faintly glowing red stones scattered on the floor, and a small figure stepped forth from behind a stalagmite. Sweetie Belle trotted toward the stone door, her face set.
The night was like a cup of coffee left out too long; dark, bitter, and exceptionally cold. The Doctor commented as much to the guard that was marching alongside him, but she didn’t react. “I suppose you’ve never had coffee,” he continued idly. “Won’t really catch on for another couple centuries. I’m quite fond of coffee, really, at least with enough milk. And creamer. And sugar. My wife won’t let me have any, though, she says I’m hyperactive enough as it is, which I think is nonsense. Don’t you think that’s nonsense— Why, I don’t believe I caught your name, did I?”
“Sergeant Sparkle Shine, number 214-WOL6.”
The Doctor furrowed his brow. “H’m. That name rings a bell.”
“Yes.”
“Have we met?”
“No.”
“Ah.”
There was a long moment of silence. “Are we there yet?”
“No.”
“How ‘bout now?”
“No.”
“Now?”
“No.”
“... S’not fun if you don’t get annoyed.”
“No.”
“Strong silent type, I can respect that.”
The pale grey buildings slipped by, one after the other, each one identical to the last. The Doctor tutted. “Urbanization can be so dreadful, can’t it?” he asked, making one last attempt at conversation.
“I suppose.”
Emboldened by this step forward (three whole syllables!), the Doctor carried on. “I mean, it must’ve been nicer before the gentrification, if gentrification is the word that I want. It lacks… color. Life.”
For a second, he thought the blind-eye crystal flushed a deep sapphire blue, but when he looked again, it had returned to white. “...Yes,” she said quietly. “It… lacks.”
“Mm. You were somebody else, once, weren’t you. Not a soldier.”
“I… yes…” Sparkle murmured. “I was… sold flowers…”
“Nice. Love flowers, me.”
“So… did she…” A faint smile cracked Sparkle Shine’s cold, distant face. “Peri...dot. Peridot. My wife…”
The Doctor watched in quiet pride as a light, translucent blue cut through the blind white of the gemstone and a tear slid down the mare’s smiling face. “That’s the way,” he said. “Tell me about her.”
“She… loved flowers, plants… green hoof. Green coat, yellow mane. Silly smile and sensitive ears… and…”
“Sergeant Shine, snap to!”
The mare’s smile faded. The clear blue faded back to murky white. The Doctor cursed inwardly as a bulky blue stallion stepped out of the darkness. “Fraternization with prisoners is prohibited,” he said stiffly. “You will be on bathroom duty for two weeks.”
“Yes, Lieutenant Turquoise,” Sparkle Shine said, no trace of emotion present in her words. She started off at a trot in a different direction. The Doctor felt his hooves pulling him forward once again to the executioner’s block. Turquoise walked ahead of him. This time, the Time Lord was silent.
King Sombra stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the execution pit, staring down with cold satisfaction. In a few minutes time, he would be rid of an annoyance. In a few hours time, he would be rid of a much larger irritant. In a few days time, he would be the ruler of one of the largest empire in the world, soon to be the largest of all time. And it would all start with this single death. The sharp crystals glimmered, their jet-black surfaces ready to turn red once more.
Suddenly, there was a strange prickling at his nerves, as though all the mane on the back of his neck had suddenly gone goosebumpy. He turned his head, but it suddenly jerked to a halt. What would be the point? There is nothing that could harm you, nothing here that would harm you. Do not look behind you. Do not show weakness.
Sombra blinked once, slow and solemn, like a lizard. His eyes were ever so slightly unfocused. He turned back to the arena below, the raised platform upon which the beginning of the end would fall into place.
Behind the king, Sweetie Belle slipped out of view of the doorway and down the stairs, hidden by grey crystal from inattentive eyes. She had to find the Doctor, she had to get out of here, the sooner the better.
The tan stallion’s legs guided him into a small plaza almost too confined to be deserving of the name. Everything around him was the same dead grey. It reminded him of latter-day Gallifreyan architecture, or a spaceport lounge, insofar as there was any difference between the two. There were virtually no distinguishing features about it. Approximately the only word for the accurate description of it was ‘utilitarian,’ and even that was a bit too flash. The reflection off and refraction through it was negligible and dull, as was the interaction of light with the material as it acted on the light of the moon above. All told, looking at the crystal for too lengthy a length of time was metaphorically akin to reading an oft-repeating sentence full of advanced vocabulary in an unnecessarily wordy and overbearing passage (with references and asides to ultimately trivial things) full of sentences which were filled with lengthy words and frequent repetition and brought forth in the mind images of staring at a cold, hard, chilly, solid, icy, uncomfortable wall made of grey crystal that was so dull as to be indescribable, and furthermore was so distracting in its tedium that it seemed to repeat itself over and over again as your eyes scanned over the same oft-repeating sentence full of advanced vocabulary in an unnecessarily wordy and overbearing passage (with references and asides to ultimately trivial things) full of sentences which were filled with lengthy words and frequent repetition and brought forth in the mind images of staring at a cold, hard, chilly, solid, icy, uncomfortable wall made of grey crystal that was so dull as to be indescribable, and furthermore was so distracting in its tedium that it seemed to repeat itself over and over again as your eyes scanned over the same oft-repeating sentence full of advanced vocabulary in an unnecessarily wordy and overbearing passage (with references and asides to ultimately trivial things) full of sentences which were filled with lengthy words and frequent repetition and brought forth in the mind images of staring at a cold, hard, chilly, solid, icy, uncomfortable wall made of grey crystal that was so dull as to be indescribable.
In other words, the execution square was dull, dull, dull! Colorless, styleless, and totally nondescript. The Doctor could all but feel the uncaring bureaucracy that ran this kingdom radiating from the walls. He glanced around as his hooves finally came to a halt once more. “Seriously? This is where you’re going to kill me?” he asked, incredulous. “It really hasn’t got the atmosphere for it, does it?”
A voice rang out from overhead, full of cold glee. “That is rather the idea. In this place, there is nothing to fixate on but your own folly, and your quickly approaching demise.”
The Time Lord looked up. On a balcony one floor above, a dark face leered out, surrounded by a darker mane. The only spot of color was his horn, glowing bright red. “Sombra. I don’t suppose you’re here to grant me a pardon?”
The king smiled, exposing cruel, sharp incisors. “Shall I tell you how you are to die, Doctor? In a few moments, you will be stood upon that pedestal there, in the center of the square. You notice that there are holes in it? Sharp spires will pierce your body through, just missing your most important organs. Lungs will be spared, as will your heart, your brain, everything that you strictly need to survive will go unhindered. You will then be left out here for… oh, a week. Perhaps two. You may actually start to rot while still alive, though given the temperature, I doubt that you’ll rot at all. Blood will freeze and crust over on your frostbitten flesh. I think that you may live long enough to die of thirst, though I cannot be certain…”
“...You may die of blood loss first.”
Sweetie’s stomach clenched as she fought the rising bile at the thought of such barbarous punishment. How could any mind invent such a torture? How could any mind choose to subject somepony to it? He should taste the spires himself and see how he likes it then!
She was breathing heavily, her mouth twisted into a sneer of pure rage. Her horn, she noticed in a detached sort of way, was glowing faintly. She shook her head. She had to focus on the problem at hoof, and couldn’t afford to be distracted by that sadistic sociopath that was trying to take over the world.
Slowly, Sweetie let out a deep breath. Okay. Clearly something was going on, here. And she had a decent idea about what it might be. With a hoof, she reached into her mane and yanked out a selection of spherical red stones which glowed like hot coals. Spherical red stones that had decidedly not been glowing when she picked them up in the tunnels. As she stared at them, her eyes began to unfocus, green irises fading into bloody red…
Rage
Revenge
Attack
Destroy
The Doctor strained as best he could against the forces that were pulling his hooves forward, but all that he could control was his neck and head. At a steady pace, he trotted up the stairs that would lead to his doom. “W-wait!” Sombra said. “I do not think that he truly understands the pain that he is about to feel! Let us allow him to—”
Whatever the king was going to say was cut off by a shout in the crowd. “What?” Sombra snapped, whipping his head toward the sound. “Who dares to interrupt me?”
A rusty orange stallion rubbed at his head. “Who has attacked me?” he demanded, his eyes showing more emotion than the Doctor had yet encountered in any guard in the empire. “Somepony threw a stone at my head! I demand reparation!”
“Ow!” another pony roared. “Somepony has thrown a stone at my head!”
The first guard spun to glare at his compatriot. “Do you mock me?” he demanded fiercely. “Am I, to your eyes, a source of japery? A jester, to amuse you? Is this the way which you consider me?”
The Doctor stared around in bewilderment. The white crystals on the two guards’ helmets were turning a furious, blazing red, and those around them were slowly joining them. He glanced up at Sombra, but the tyrant looked equally shocked. The Time Lord’s eyes darted to a quick motion in the crowd, a flash of off-white among the grey. Sweetie Belle.
He felt another brief pang of guilt at the idea that she had been left to roam around the city, but that was quickly replaced by pride and relief at the fact that she was alright.
Both of those were quickly overridden by confusion at what exactly she was doing. As he watched, she levitated a red stone in her aura (and had it always been that dark shade?) and threw it, arcing, toward a guard. “Ouch!”
The red of the stone turned brighter, and the white crystal on the mare’s helmet darkened to pink, and then red. As she began to join in the shouting, the Doctor’s face went pale. “Sweetie Belle, don’t!” he shouted.
The young mare glanced up, shocked, and the Doctor could see the gleam of red in her eye. And then a hoof crashed down on one of the glowing rocks and every emotion that the Doctor felt was washed away in a tide of fury.
Luna stared at the Empire as the grey-blue walls suddenly lit up like an exploding star, the fury of a burning world, the color of murderous death. She was transfixed. The fury, the rage, so bright and painful. So… freeing.
“Your highness?” a guard asked. “Are you well?”
Luna realized that her teeth were grinding. Then she realized that she didn’t care. “Charge!” she roared. “Burn them to the ground! Destroy this Tartarus-forsaken landscape and paint it with ruby!”
She set off at a gallop toward the Crystal Empire, summoning to her side her old bat, carried in an aura that burned cold like the vacuum of space. Memories of old campaigns flew back to her; the defeat of the Nightmare, the petrifaction of Discord, the fate of so many against the Doctor and the sisters. She didn’t know how many were following her, this time. She didn’t care. She would smash the Empire like so much fine china, and she would do it alone.
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Fantastic self-demonstrating description of the execution square.
Given Gallifreyan anatomy, that's far from guaranteed.
He seems like a good fella.
Ohhhh dear. Rage bombs everywhere, and the splash damage is farther than anyone could have guessed. This will be messy indeed. But hey, at least it wasn't as King Sombra planned it.