4 - Neighagra Falls
Sombra woke to the sound of rushing water. The wagon rocked and jerked steadily, metal pieces clinked, and the tarp fluttered in the wind at the wagon’s rear, letting in the blue-gray mist. Sombra wondered if Clyde had abandoned the wagon on a hill, and he was now rolling steadily towards a ravine to be washed away from the Equestrian history books forever. But he simply couldn’t hear Clyde’s hoofsteps over the water.
Sombra shifted and grunted in pain. A dehydrated headache pulsed through his entire body. He’d passed out full of alcohol and empty of magic. The unicorn double-hangover. Gritting his teeth, he raised a hoof and touched the wagon edge. He was too weak to even knock.
“Coast is clear,” Clyde said.
Sombra stuck his hoof between tarp and wagon-edge and pulled himself an inch. Then two more. Until finally his head was outside.
Clyde stopped walking and turned his head back, while miles ahead of him, the sky fell in. Sombra’s heart hammered in his chest, and he dragged himself up to his elbows. All he could see was a terrible storm without clouds pouring water into the background of a hilly town, and Clyde, instead of turning the wagon round and running away like he should have been doing, instead moved his eyes all over Sombra’s face. Perfect little beads of moisture were stuck to him, as if he was waterproof.
“Is it… raining?” Sombra muttered.
“Nope. That there’s Neighagra Falls.” Clyde turned forwards again. “Haven’t been since Mama Clyde took me at eight years old. You ready to get on your hooves? The hotel is ten minutes out.”
“You weren’t serious about that.”
“Oh, I was mighty serious then, and I’m even more serious now. That magic show you put on took you out for three days.”
“That magic show prevented you from being robbed.”
“That it did. And I’m planning to use some of that money you saved to put you up in a four-star.”
Absolutely not, Sombra tried to respond, but only a gurgle came out.
Clyde unhitched himself, came around the wagon and opened the tarp up. He moved quickly, but without hurry. Sombra shuddered against the wind running over his fur.
“Wha… Where’s my cape?”
“Bundled up and buried out by the lake, along with your armor and crown.”
A flicker of anger sparked in Sombra’s chest, then was gone. He was too tired to be mad.
“…May I ask why?”
“Your talk of destroying evidence got me thinking. If a photo of us places you and I together, then so does your stuff in my wagon. Don’t worry. I know where it is, if you ever want to go dig it back up. I’ll even wield the shovel.”
Clyde’s bright green eyes kept moving all over Sombra’s body. He looked so serious, all of the sudden. Sombra realized he wasn’t the only one wondering if he’d survive this journey.
“Come on. The only way you’re getting into that hotel is on your hooves. Just a short walk, and you can rest an entire day.”
“…I’m cold.”
“Use the blanket.”
Sombra shifted himself off the blanket and threw it over his shoulders. He scooted to the back edge.
“Here.”
Clyde offered a hoof. Sombra stared at it. Closed his eyes. Accepted it. Allowed himself to be brought down to the earth. The pain had made him unable to feel anything else, it seemed. Not even shame.
Sombra gave walking a try, found it excruciating. But he managed to circle the wagon, dragging his hoof along its edge and ignoring the tiny pricking of splinters. Clyde came around the other way and stood beside him.
“Think you can muster ten minutes?” Clyde asked.
But Sombra wasn’t thinking about the ten minutes. He was thinking about the rest of the journey. A great distance still remained, but it was measly compared to how far they’d already come. And when he crossed that final gap, he would have his horn back, and with it his throne, and, most importantly, he wouldn’t have to feel so weak ever again. Or wear this diabolical duck-blanket.
“I’m vetoing the hotel,” he announced. “We must keep—”
“I don’t remember givin’ you veto powers.”
Sombra grumbled aloud. “Be reasonable, won’t you? I’ll be recognized.”
“Reckon you’d better keep your head down, then.”
“Clyde—”
“I promised you that warm bed.”
Fury welled up in Sombra’s chest. “And if I am recognized and thrown in a cell? If they call Twilight here so she can wipe me off the face of the planet?”
“Won’t happen.”
“Oh, you infernal—”
Sombra whirled on Clyde and jabbed a hoof into his chest. “You think your mother’s ghost is haunting you?” he snarled. "Well, she has nothing on me. If I am destroyed by your foolish sentiment, do you know what I’ll do?” He lifted his nose just underneath Clyde’s and bared his teeth. “I will stalk you till the end of your days, Clyde; I will ruin every friendship you ever make, buckle every house you try to build, make you violently ill before every single one of your precious little rodeos, and inside every cup of bourbon you pour for the rest of your days, you will find the unmistakable taste of my urine. Do I make myself clear?”
“You do.”
The anger vanished, replaced with exhaustion. Sombra hung his head and nearly rocked it into Clyde’s chest.
“I will not let your kindness ruin me,” Sombra muttered. “Understand?”
Clyde immediately responded, “All due respect, Mr. Sombra, but if my kindness ruins you, then I ain’t doin’ it right.”
***
Sombra sat on the edge of the wagon and swung his hindlegs below him. He clutched the blanket around his shoulders and stared at the picture frame in his hooves. Little Clyde and Mama Clyde. He had already stared at this photo for hours on end from inside the wagon on that endless journey. But he stared at it again now as an easy way to follow Clyde’s instruction:
Don’t look up, or at anypony.
His red eyes would give him away. That was all Sombra had left of himself, he realized. Even his magic was gone now. He couldn’t conjure the smallest crystal. All he had to do was shut his eyes, and he was the same as anypony in the world.
Clyde marched up beside him looking serious, yet proud. Excited, even. “Alright, I got us each a room. Come on.”
What happened next wasn’t clear to Sombra. One moment he was preparing himself to hop off the wagon, and the next he was laid slack over Clyde’s back, hearing, “easy now, easy,” whispered quietly in his ear.
“I got you.”
The frame slipped from his hooves, and Clyde caught it against his chest.
“Grab on, Mr. Sombra.”
Sombra grabbed on. The earth moved beneath him. Every time he blinked, it seemed to change. The dirt path became gray and dark wooden steps, creaking under a large weight. Then it was carpet and light, and a warm breath of magic passed over him. Then stairs. The kickplate of an open door. And then a mattress came to meet him, soft and smelling of flowers. Clyde placed the picture on the stand next to the bed, and Sombra rolled over, saw a knotted wooden ceiling, then a window with open curtains. And then Clyde was kissing him.
The feeling was unmistakable. A warm, wet touch, gentle as a feather. First it was on the spot just below his ear, then against his cheekbone, making his head loll to the side. Then his chin, his jaw, and his neck.
“What are you…?”
The kisses stopped. Clyde stepped back and bit his lip, blushing severely.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t… I just…”
“I didn’t tell you to st—”
Clyde’s face lit up purple for a split second. A thunderclap of magic buffeted the window.
Adrenaline flowed through Sombra, and he sat up in the bed.
“Twilight Sparkle,” he breathed.
Clyde gulped. “Eeyup. That’ll be her.” He ran to the window and scanned the outside world like a wild animal searching for a predator in the forest. Then his ears went flat and he crouched.
“Oh, no,” he said. “Oh, no no no—”
“What’s happening?”
“She’s here alright.”
“What’s she doing?”
“Well, uh… She’s lookin’ at the wagon. Lookin’ inside the wagon. AIEE!”
Clyde threw the curtains closed and backed away like a monster might burst through them.
“She just, um… made eye contact with yours truly.” He gulped. Threw his hooves over his head. “Oh, this is just my rotten luck.”
“It’s over, Clyde,” Sombra said.
“No!” Clyde shouted. “No, don’t say that. It ain’t over till the rooster sings.”
“Surely it… begins when the rooster sings. No?”
Clyde chewed at his lip. “You know what I mean,” he murmured.
“Clyde.”
“Yes, sir?”
“You’ve made a valiant effort. But it’s time to turn me in.”
“What—? Never!”
“Clyde, listen to me!” Sombra barked. “Go down there, and tell her I enslaved you. Any other course of action is foolishness.”
“How’d you enslave me without your horn?”
“I have no idea. But it is your only chance.”
Clyde sputtered, searching for a response, but he didn’t find any. Sombra lolled forward, felt Clyde’s strong foreleg catch him by the chest and lay him down on the bed.
“I reckon you’re right,” Clyde said gently. “Turning you in is my last chance. But it ain’t yours.” Clyde turned to face the hallway. “No, sir. That’d be me.”
Sombra’s eyes were falling closed. He stared at the image of Clyde and his mother, sitting in the frame on the nightstand. The last thing he saw was Clyde taking it away. The last thing he heard was the door quietly latching shut.
For the record? Twilight was at ten reasons now.
- The revivification shockwave.
- The agitated horn.
- Discord’s flimsy testimony.
- The impossible fortress.
- “We’ve” made a mess, huh, Troubleshoes?
- Speaking of Troubleshoes, why was his wagon currently parked outside a Neighagra Falls hotel, hundreds of miles north of Ponyville, when he distinctly claimed to be headed south from there?
- And why had a pair of impoverished dragons appeared in Twilight’s castle that morning, claiming to have been attacked by what they described as an “evil shadowmonster” accompanied by a “giant so-and-so of an earth pony?”
- Why did the aforementioned wagon smell like a stallion who hadn’t showered in eons?
- What was with all the black hairs inside the wagon?
- And why was it that when Twilight finished inspecting the wagon, she saw Troubleshoes’ guilty-looking face in the window of the hotel, looking like a pony who had done a lot more wrong than squat in some unoccupied evil fortress?
At some point, Twilight’s list of reasons to believe that King Sombra had returned to Equestria had morphed into a list of reasons why she would never underestimate Troubleshoes Clyde EVER again.
But it was her own fault. She knew that. After their encounter in Ponyville, she should have planted a tracking spell on the wagon when Clyde wasn’t looking. Or sent somepony to keep tabs on him, like Rainbow Dash—she would have jumped at the off-chance of kicking King Sombra’s flank. Or, even better, Twilight could have just thrown the tarp off and destroyed Sombra right then and there. What did she have to lose if she was wrong? A moment’s disrespect for some countrypony’s privacy?
Well. There would be no more respect for privacy today. Not until Sombra was neutralized.
From outside, the hotel was full of noise, but when she entered it, a silence entered with her. The front hall hushed, ponies moved aside. Clanging cutlery from the dining room went still. Eyes fell on her from all around.
She stood in the middle of the cavernous foyer, noted the front desk off to one side, the dining room off to the other, and the suites on the mezzanine. Twilight considered going right up there and blowing each door off its hinges one at a time, but decided the front desk was a less authoritarian approach. She made her way there, only for her attention to be yanked towards the dining room, where a lone earth pony with a small hat sat staring at a steaming mug of tea between his hooves. Twilight strode towards him, then slowed, and stopped halfway. Her anger vanished. Heartbreak replaced it.
Whatever was going on between these two stallions, she was right about Troubleshoes Clyde. He was a kindly, simple pony. He had the eyes. She didn’t know how he’d done it, but that shadow-faced jerk had found a way to lead a good pony astray. And for that he would pay extra.
Twilight sighed and shook her head. She crossed the rest of the way. Clyde seemed to be unable to look at her, though he was trying. Sitting across from him, Twilight gestured at an approaching waiter to leave them be. She allowed the clamor of the room to return and give them some privacy.
“Hi there, Troubleshoes,” she said over the din.
Troubleshoes hadn’t looked up from his teacup. “Her Majesty Ms. Sparkle. What a pleasant surprise.”
Twilight flinched. There was somehow even less surprise in his voice this time, and absolutely nothing pleasant. She studied his face for something, anything, that might reveal a mind-control spell. But there was nothing.
“Are you… feeling okay?” she asked.
“Oh, right as rain, thank you for askin’. You found that fugitive yet?”
“Not yet. But I think I’m close.”
Clyde nodded sadly. “That’s good to hear. Mighty kind of ya to be clearin’ evil ponies off the streets for the rest of us good folk.”
Twilight smiled. “Well, it’s my job. But—”
“I been thinkin’ ’bout good ’n’ evil lately.”
Troubleshoes took a long sip of his tea, and seemed to decide mid-drink to down the whole thing. He dropped his cup with a clink on its saucer, and he sucked his teeth like he’d just downed a shot of tequila.
“…Have you been drinking?” asked Twilight.
“Been thinkin’ about it a whole lot, in fact.” Troubleshoes found the courage to level his eyes at Twilight. “Thinkin’ it must be hard, delineatin’ the two. Good and evil. Who’s to say who belongs in which category?”
“We’re good ponies, Troubleshoes,” Twilight said.
“Mighty kind of you to say. But I’m not so sure I fit your definition of good.”
Twilight shifted in her seat. “You don’t think you’re a good pony?”
“Didn’t say I wasn’t,” said Troubleshoes. “Just said I didn’t meet your definition.”
He was getting angry. Twilight took a deep breath, and hoped her calmness would rub off on him. The last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene.
“Why don’t you fit?” she asked.
“Hard to explain.”
“Try me.” She reached a hoof across the table and laid it over his. “Please.”
Troubleshoes stared at their hooves for a moment, then pulled away and squared his shoulders. “Lemme give you an example. Let’s say there’s this real awful stallion on the loose. And he’s the lowest o’the low. Leaves a trail of destruction wherever he goes. Can be a mental torture to an entire community for years ’n’ years. You’d want to lock ’im up, I s’pose.”
“What’s your point, Troubleshoes?” Twilight said.
“Well, what if, instead of throwin’ ’im in a cell and swallowin’ the key, you just… let ’im go? All’s forgiven. And that pony’s so smitten by the kindness he’s received that he goes and pays it forward. Does somethin’ nice for a change. Even somethin’ small, like, say—say he sees a rabbit drowning in a pond, and he pulls it back out to safety.”
“And if he went on to do bad things again?” Twilight cut in. “What then?”
“I reckon you can’t say. You can’t ever know for sure.”
“Nor can you know if he’ll change for good.”
“Eeyup… That’s a fact.”
Twilight rose from her chair and circled the table. She extended her wings in what she hoped was a warm gesture, and crouched next to the wayward earth pony and laid a hoof on his back.
“And it depends, too, Troubleshoes, on just how evil this pony is. Did he ruin lives? Did he torture and enslave innocent ponies?”
Clyde chewed his lip.
“Justice is a lot like physics, Troubleshoes,” Twilight said. “Objects in motion tend to stay in motion, unless you act on them and change their course. But some objects just… don’t want to change course. And the only thing you can do is make sure they don’t hurt anypony in their path.”
Troubleshoes had shed a single tear, at some point. Twilight saw the track under his right eye, and nothing more. Her own eyes were burning. What has he done to you? she thought. And how do I bring you back?
But Twilight was finished talking. She had to put a stop to this now. Whatever came next out of Troubleshoes’ mouth would decide his fate.
“I just can’t help it,” he said. “I just can’t stop thinkin’ about that poor rabbit.”
Twilight hung her head and stood. “Where is he?” she demanded.
The room was silent again, watching them. Twilight noticed Troubleshoes’ jaw begin to tremble. She forced herself not to care about any of it.
“Final warning, Troubleshoes. Tell me. Now.”
The big earth pony shrank in his chair, and he looked away. “I can’t say I know to whom you’re referring.”
“Oh, for the love of…”
Twilight spun around and marched out of the dining room, wings flared and horn buzzing. She made her way to the mezzanine stairs, while behind her, Troubleshoes came running like a one-pony stampede.
“Wait! I said—WAIT, Ms. Sparkle, please!”
Troubleshoes stumbled past Twilight at the top of the stairs like an animal rushing to its mother. Twilight stood aside and let him scurry up to the door to one of the suites, and it occurred to her that she didn’t know which room held King Sombra until he’d done that.
And this was the pony who’d tricked her. Twice.
“Step aside, Troubleshoes,” she warned.
Troubleshoes shook his head. “I can’t let you in there,” he said, trying to sound strong.
With a roll of her eyes, Twilight lifted Troubleshoes into the air with a spell and floated him off to the side.
“You’re under arrest,” she said. As she turned to him, she saw the crowd of ponies gathered down below, all of them staring at the scene unfolding before them. She would probably make the news for this.
Nope. Still didn’t care.
The door came off its hinges with a satisfying crash. Twilight stepped into the room, prepared her horn again…
…but the room was empty. Twilight blinked. She stepped further in. Twirled once one way, then the other. Not a thing out of place. The bed was made. The only evidence a guest had even been in here since it was last cleaned was the picture frame Twilight saw on the nightstand. Had he fled? No. The window was shut and locked from the inside.
She heard a thump outside, realized she’d let go of Troubleshoes. She picked up the picture frame and studied the two clydesdale ponies inside, one of them a strong mare in a poncho, the other carrying the unmistakable goofy grin of a young Troubleshoes Clyde.
The mare had a black mane.
Twilight turned to see Clyde wandering into the room, looking completely guilty. But guilty of what?
“Troubleshoes,” she whispered. “The fugitive I’m looking for isn’t you. You know that, right?”
Troubleshoes didn’t answer. He only leaned against a wall and rubbed a sore spot on his shoulder.
Had she hurt him? She tried to remember the last few moments, but her mind was blank. Her most prominent recent memory was the crowd of ponies outside, watching the arrest unfold, gasping as she blasted the door into the room. Seeing the new ruler of Equestria do something… that Princess Celestia would have never done.
“I’ve made a huge mistake,” she said. She turned to Troubleshoes, and said, “I’m sorry. I… I have to go. You’re not under arrest. I…”
She knew she should go back out there. Placate the crowd. But she couldn’t. The shame was eating her alive.
So she teleported home.
Sombra wondered how he could possibly be alive. He’d spent a few weeks wondering that now, in fact, but he’d never been this confused. He guessed it was a miracle.
Speaking of miracles, he was standing. Rocking forwards, and swaying side-to-side, but standing.
There’d been a commotion outside his room. Hooves thumped. Voices shouted. Sombra had dragged himself out of bed, fallen to the floor, and pushed himself back up to face the door. If Twilight was going to strike him down, she would do it while he was on his hooves.
He’d shut his eyes against the sound of a door being torn off its hinges, but felt no impact from it flying towards him. Because it wasn’t his door. Then he’d heard a few murmurs, a blast of magic, and after a long, swaying silence in which Sombra struggled to keep his eyes open, there was a knock on his intact door.
“Eh?” Sombra said.
The door creaked open, and Clyde poked his head through. He slipped inside and shut the door behind him. He was shaking like he’d seen a ghost.
“…Wha—?” Sombra managed.
“I don’t know,” Clyde responded. “I don’t honestly know.”
“Ex…plain.”
Clyde sat on the bed and lifted his hooves to demonstrate—one hoof for him and one for Twilight.
“Well, I-I mean, she was comin’ up the stairs to get you. And I just thought, you know, she don’t know which room you’re in. So I… stood in front of the door to my room instead of yours. And she blew the door in and walked in and…”
Clyde put his hooves back down and stared at Sombra. He wasn’t shaking anymore.
“…and she said she’d made a mistake. Hightailed it back home, I guess.”
Sombra blinked. Something wrapped around him like a pre-heated blanket, and he felt his strength returning. Relief? Maybe. But more likely it was pride.
He stepped to the edge of the bed, placed himself in front of Clyde’s wandering green eyes, and stared at them until they stayed locked on his.
“Troubleshoes Clyde,” he said.
“Yes, sir?”
“Do you mean to tell me… that you outwitted Twilight Sparkle?”
Clyde’s eyes widened.
“I reckon I did.”
Sombra flew into the kiss. He shot forward and pressed himself to those dumb, wavering lips until they went firm and pressed back. Then they pressed harder. Sombra felt his legs weaken, heard the bed release Clyde’s weight, felt himself pushed back and back until he bumped into a wall and his spine rose up against it.
They broke free, but only by an inch. Sombra threw a hoof around Clyde’s neck and pulled his big head toward him. He pushed their heads together until the bridges of their noses lay flush.
“Wowee,” Clyde breathed.
And it was such foolishness. It was unbecoming for a pony of his position. But Sombra pulled their lips together once more, made his whole body relax, and allowed Clyde to ease him away from the wall and into his embrace.
It was the strongest King Sombra had felt since being revived.
Stats
Page generated in 0.017 seconds
Total duration
1,041 users online
2,151,113 hits today, 2,561,572 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
You never thought to... I don't know, help him change or show him friendship? Where's the friendship in killing someone, princess?
11045749
friendship may be magic but murder is fantastic
such a good exchange ho oo o l y fuck
SUBLIME TWILIGHT
Logical and manic and caught up in her own whirlwind of a mind
Oh my god! This is how you do it! This is a perfect villain Twilight!
NOOOOOO NOW I FEEL BAD
NEVERMIND FUCK TWILIGHT THE GAYS ARE KISSING AND IT'S A WONDERFULLY WRITTEN END SCENE
too much tiredness, or character development???
Sombra realizes he is not the only character in the story?
ah, Troubleshoes taking charge! though it was really always this way, Sombra just never had to face it this directly
Sombra now directly trying to hold on to his past ways! but Troubleshoes really is immune to it for multiple reasons. again, love how well these characters work together
finally! love how abrupt this was in the rhythm, haha
aww, so good!
so touching!
and Twilight learns a very specific Friendship Lesson! love it
oof, you really make her feel like the Terminator here
love the callback
ah, the deflation! love it!
again, the connections!
as great as your Sombra and Troubleshoes are, i also have to recognize how great your Twilight is. she feels very Twilight from her perspective
this is alicorn monarchy manifest!
ah, i was confused for a second, and then i remembered one of Twilight's clues. absolutely brilliant, this.
again, amazing Twilight. love this miniature arc of hers.
absolute perfection! wow i love this so much
11045749
indeed. she's acting pretty fuckin weird
I'm hanging on every single word! An unlikely pairing made so compelling with your writing! I love it!
The way the emotions just come crashing in throughout this chapter blew me away. The tone and flavor of Twilight’s quiet confrontation with Clyde in the dining room was delectable. I just love the layers in what Clyde expresses in his speech about the idea of goodness. It’s the heart of his and Sombra’s kinship: two ponies who’ve known ostracism and revilement. And of course Clyde believes wholeheartedly that his goodness toward Sombra will be enough to see him change and choose a different life and a different outlook. After all, it’s what he needed.
This line is so goddamn good. Exactly what I’m getting at here in a package of perfect, succinct eloquence. A thing of thematic beauty.
And what is there even to say about the horsey kisses? Other than very cute, very sweet, and so incredibly rewarding! I love how Clyde’s smooching sneaks up on the narration just as it does for Sombra — that was so cleverly done. And I love how this moment of shared affection between them rides the high of utterly unexpected triumph they’ve just gotten to experience. The concluding line of Sombra’s renewed strength is the perfect note to end on. Wowee, indeed.