1. My Little Home
1. Ancora
Clink. Clink.
Metal bars have kept me so confined. Trapped, alone, ignored. The stone floor used to be warm to the hoof - But now? I can’t feel a thing. I don’t know whether it’s malnutrition, or that my mind has wandered to a different world at this point, but I can’t.
I etched into the wall with a bloodied hoof, scratching away up and down, over and over. The insignificant dust gathers at my other hoof in a pile. Year twelve, first month, first day. That’s what the markings on the walls told me. I could have sworn they said something far different yesterday. Something about order - and how it’s good for us. Healthy for us. I faced away, flanks lined up to the grazed markings. In the corner of my home sat my throne. It was a beautiful stool, not much for the eyes of others it seems. The way I see it, jewels were enlaid on the inside, and magic binded to it that provided comfort and power to anyone who took seat there.
Next to that lay the Bed of Nightmares. I don't like that bed. Each night I spent in its grasp, it traps me for longer inside a world of twisted fear and unmeasurable hatred. No, this cell is my true home; not my dreams.
Thump. Thump.
I attempted to break out again today. I thought it could be quite the occasion on account of me succeeding to survive twelve years down here. The event makes me wonder how many times I’ve attempted to see the light of the moss gardens again. I remember I used to love the colour blue. Blue is a nice colour - calm and relaxing.
Calm.
My flanks gave way down against the battered wall. I let them scrape along it painfully as they travelled to meet the numb setting on which my hooves stood. At the very least, I could still feel pain now and then. Producing feeling was a task to muster. The guards would never deliver such brutal mercy to me again after last time; they saw how much I was smiling.
A terrible shame. A terrible fate.
Drip. Drip.
I always hated this emotion. This emotion was not my favourite. This time it conjured memories of a time before I made this place my new home. Civil war resulted in a large portion of my younglinghood sat inside the hibernation chambers, but at least I was permitted to leave once the alarms were over. Silence falls, and then I can trot over to the moss gardens again and play with my friends. The odd tumble with a fellow youngling was common, but at least the ground acted as a cushion to our falls.
Cushion. I could use one of those.
“Hello!? Mommy needs a new cushion!” I stumble over toward the metal bars, hooves dragging themselves on my behalf, “I said: Cushion!”
My voice sounded so frail to my own ears, to the standard it was difficult to keep them open for a response. How long has it been since I’ve had water? I recall owning two meals a day - water comes with it. Outside of the grey bars, the stones and floors gave a more rich brown colour. The earth beneath Equestria was so rich in gorgeous minerals, making fancy dungeons ever so easy to manipulate.
“And a meal, please!” I call to whoever might listen. My thoughts were commanding me to say something different, but I was never one to listen to that silly old brain. I had my home, my throne, my meals, my manners too. Why should I need to listen?
“Oh - SHUT IT, HAG!” a gruff guard yelled in frustration back down the hallway. From my position, I couldn’t spot the culprit of such a rude phrase. How insulting to my good nature! There was another male next to him, muttering something to the rude one. I scrambled over to the very corner, and pressed my ear between the bars. Yet no matter how concentrated on the sound, I was unable to make out the words.
“You, sir! I demand a meal! N-None should ever be t-treated like this!” a shiver took control of my body. What was happening to me?
Clack. Clack.
My body sprung awake, the shiver faded so suddenly as the guard approached my home. My pupils dilate excessively, my hooves grabbed at the free air behind the bars. A weapon came into view first - a rifle of some sort. The red laser glared directly into my left eye, blinding it periodically. I didn’t care! Freedom was at my grasp, surely!
“And I said: SHUT! IT!” The changeling came into full view, unhooking keys that hung from his flankside. His shell and wings were a wonderful shade of blue. I remembered again - I love blue! This has to be a sign! He passed my desperate hooves entirely, but headed straight for the lock. With the clanks of rusty metal, and a deathly screech, my freedom had arrived.
THUNK.
My head bled on the floor. The gate resealed and my saviour had left my presence, as far as my ears could sense. My vision, however, was distorted. Why would my saviour do that to me? That fucking hurt. The vision I still held painted with crimson, and the fury unleashed as a mere thrashing of my hind legs on the stone flooring. I cried out in anguish, hope leaving my side.
Hope. Ancora. Ancora was my name.
“You fucking bastards…”, the whimpering arrived just as swiftly as the tears did, “You… You fucking bastards! Hear me!?” my strained voice echoed through the prison cells until it returned to me. It was then I could tell I was in a bad state. My screams were covered up with incoherent crying and shivering. The ground’s temperature dropped exponentially, my heart rate increased to abnormal levels, and my tears made a pool to dip my hooves into.
“You okay?” A deep male voice crept up on me from behind. Without a single thought otherwise, I bucked my hooves at the sound, only to have the hooves destroying the air behind my body.
“Woah there - take it easy. Breath for a moment.” The voice assured and my body followed instruction. My chest filled with delicious homely air, until I released it from its confines with a mighty exhale. Doing so had mended a wound that had been beneath my skull. I finally spun around.
I was greeted with an odd sight. The right side of my home had a cell next to it. When did that get there? Had that always been there? I had to give this new feature a detailed examination. Being thorough, I had forgotten in all my time here that there was indeed a cell next to mine on the right. And what was even more astonishing was that someone had taken refuge in that very cell. A tall, slightly brawny male, a looker beyond my standards, with a beautiful pair of semi-transparent green wings. The wings extended down the back of his forelegs in such a strange fashion, unlike anything I had ever seen.
I kept my eyes soully locked onto this new face. My mouth hung itself open, but words couldn’t escape. Silence remained in the prison until he spoke up for me.
“Ancora, if I’m not mistaken?” he angled his head slightly to the left, his noire mane tendrils leaning over with it, “They mentioned your name on the way down here. I know exactly who you are. And I’m sorry this has been your fate…”
I wept openly in front of him. I wished to ask an infinity of questions. I wished that I could speak, but my voice wouldn’t allow it. My legs gave way to grief. My body pressed to the floor, my head ducked beneath a tattered mane and my own hooves. The memories arrived again.
Ancora was my name. There was no longer a doubt in my mind. I had forgotten who I was for so many wasted years of my life. I opened my hooves in front of my eyes to see so many cuts that travelled up the inside of my forelegs. I took a long look at myself, or at least, what I could gather. What I saw was a thin, boney, sobbing changeling mare. My wings were no longer present, only stubs that burned with loss. My mane couldn’t be described as a mane any longer, nor my tail. Singular strands hung down in shame and self-pity.
The stallion kept his voice hushed while he watched my sadness unfold.
“I’m going to get us out of here. It will take a while, but I want you to know you aren’t alone anymore, and hope is still here.” my whimpers were still consistent, however, I had regained the ability to speak. With my lips quivering in a mixture of fear and excitement, I had only one question I needed answering.
“W-Who are you?”
“You can call me ‘Arbiter’.”