King and I - 2

 

It’s creeping you out.

 

You haven’t seen another soul during your short stay. Only you and your escort inhabit the empty hallway. Where are all the guards? Why isn’t there anybody outside of the throne room? The King must have some way of keeping you here, if so, running might not be such an easy task.

 

You break away from the sparkling pony’s cold gaze to face the onyx doors. They stand in contrast to the rest of the castle, with intricate and noisy designs engraved deep into the surface. They depict various things, seemingly in chronological order.

 

On the upper left there is a seemingly normal stallion with a rather large build. He’s wearing a familiar cape, but his signature curved horn is oddly absent, being replaced with a normal swirled one instead.

 

On his right lays a crown, his crown, the one that he wears with pride upon his face in the next frame, a jagged throne underneath him and ponies bowing to him left and right. From there it only grows stranger.

 

On the next row down his appearance has changed, he’s become bulkier than before, his horn beginning to form into the infamous blade it would eventually become. A wicked smile of jagged teeth adorns his face, like a shark ready to gobble up his prey. Beneath him lays a battered knight who he easily dwarfs in size.

 

His armor was battered and broken, with dents running down the length of his body. His eyes were closed; you don’t know if he is unconscious or already dead. It’s fairly evident some kind of battle had taken place, and the knight had lost spectacularly.

 

Another engraving of Sombra on his throne followed, larger than the others. He had the full get-up on, crown, fangs, smoke, cape and creepy grin. The ponies were bowing to him again, although there were far fewer than before. Some were held down with heavy chains, bolted to the ground with large metal rings.

 

You’re not feeling optimistic about your chances, but you’ve delayed the inevitable for long enough, time to face the man himself. A lump swells in your throat as you slowly push open the huge wooden doors; they’re very heavy, forcing you to put a lot of weight onto them. With a mighty heave the doors swing open, revealing the throne room.

 

At the end of a long crimson carpet, a jagged black throne cuts through the ground, on it, sits King Sombra. He smiles as you walk down the room towards him.

 

The ceiling towers above you, stretching off into the distance, the hard edges of the varying crystal convening at its highest point. Crimson banners hang from every wall, covering the vibrant crystal with a sea of dark red.

 

Huge windows line the sides of the room, with complex stained glass patterns designed to show off the beauty of the crystal castle. You can’t help but shiver as you notice the metal rings that claw into the ground at each side, the ghostly faces of enslaved ponies looking back.

 

You can only imagine how much has happened here, scorch marks and fractured walls still scar the room, potentially from a recent battle or rebellion.

 

You shake your head and clear you mind, this is no time to get nervous. Out here, below such a powerful pony you feel vulnerable and exposed. You swallow and narrow your eyes, that’s what he wants. To be in that position of power, so he can push you around. He’s all about control, and you won’t give him it so easily.

 

Your legs stiffen, unwilling to get any closer. You drag on, ignoring your natural response’s desperate attempts to make you run away like a little girl. You come to the steps and stand there defiantly. He continues to smirk and stare, waiting for the right moment to begin his speech.

 

His horn is far sharper than you expected. Smooth and wicked, it glints slightly in the light that fills the hall, the tip being the same red as his cape.

 

He’s much more intimidating in the flesh than you imagined. His towering height is only matched by his presence, which upon eye contact sends violent shivers down your spine. He is wide set and bulky, a stark comparison to your new frail female body. Whereas your chest is lithe and dainty, his is muscular and built.

 

It’s fairly obvious he didn’t want you having an upper hand physically; even the escort who brought you here had more meat on her bones.

 

His eyes don’t emit green smoke like you thought they would, instead are two red orbs that pierce your defenses and drag out your weaknesses.

 

His wild black mane is barely held from his face by a jagged silver crown. A matching silver breastplate covers a considerable portion of his torso, along with four metal plates that cover his hooves. A blood red cape is draped around his back, covering his tail.

 

His shark like teeth grin with glee. He’s done this before, intimidating his subjects, bending them to his goals and whims.

 

Everything from the moment you woke up has been carefully constructed, the empty corridors, the ghostly guide and even the long walk to his throne; all in a bid to give you subtle hints towards his influence and power.

 

You don’t need any hints; you know full well what this mad pony can do.

 

He gets up, slowly, before trotting down the steps with powerful hoof falls that ring out and echo through the empty room. You freeze, afraid to move under his scrutiny. He stops in front of you, his gaze somehow growing far more intense than before; you wilt slightly, casting your eyes down left to the floor.

 

He chuckles, a deep baritone laugh that rumbles through your being. His armored hooves trot around out of your vision, before emerging from the right, circling you like a vulture. A bit too close for comfort in your opinion.

 

He makes two more passes before stopping. A plated hoof is placed firmly underneath your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. He stares unblinking for a moment, before turning and heading back towards his throne.

 

He sits there in silence for a few moments, his head casually resting on a hoof. He begins to laugh again. A quiet chuckle at first, but it soon escalates into full blown evil guffaws. You stand there dumbfounded at the uncharacteristic chortles of the dark ruler.

 

Is he laughing at you? What’s so funny?

 

“Hey!” You protest. Suddenly his head snaps to meet yours. You jump slightly at the rapid movement.

 

“Oh, of course.” He mumbles. He coughs into his hoof and clears his throat. “How uncouth of me.” His voice is smooth like marble, but with a deep rumble to it, the voice of somebody who commands the obedience of others. He gestures to the empty space behind you. “Welcome to my little empire, Rose. I’m so very sorry about the cold welcome. But I just can’t stand my staff gawking over a new guest, so I sent them all back to their quarters.”

 

All of them? Why on Earth would he do that? Before you can vocalize your question he cuts you off. “I’m sure you have plenty of questions to ask me… which will be answered in due time.”

 

“Why can’t you answer any of them now? Why did you bring me here?” You shout, outraged at his tight lipped approach to your abduction. He scowls, his lips thinning and his legs tensing.

 

“Do not speak to your King like that.” He warns gravely. “I think you’ll find that I’m very compassionate to those loyal to me and those who aren’t…”

 

You struggle and gasp in vein as his magic grip crushes your ribcage. A black collar floats from behind, clipping itself around your neck. The magic is released and your hooves fly to it in an attempt to pry the tight leather from your neck.

 

“Will be dealt with.” He finishes.

 

“I’m not your pet.” You mutter. There’s no kind of clasp on this collar, you can’t get it off. It’s quite tight, slightly constricting your airway, probably intentionally to make sure you’re always aware of it.

 

“You’ll be whatever I want you to be.” He growls. “I spent a lot of time and energy to bring you here, you owe me.” He sighs as you give him a death glare. “Any of my other subjects would give their lives to receive such attention from their beloved King.”

 

You collapse onto your backside; the cold floor doesn’t bother you quite as much as the reality of the situation hits you. King Sombra, in the flesh, has kidnapped you and turned you into his plaything. A small ember of hope remain however, if he brought you here, there has to be a way back.

 

“Besides, I thought you’d like it here. You enjoyed the story so very much; why not enjoy it in reality as well?”

 

You voice rises again. “Why me? There were hundreds of other people you could have picked! Why did you even need to whisk somebody from an entirely different world here?”

 

“Because I can.” He answers with a growl not apart from a lion’s. “You are here, you will stay here, you will sit and enjoy it like the obedient little mare that you are, and if you ever manage to impress me, I might give you the privilege of polishing my hooves.”

 

The intense hatred in his eyes shrivels your hope down to a wilted flower. “I know everything, I see everything that happens in this castle, do not try to escape or you will be thrown in the pile with the rest of the traitors…” With that he halts. “You may return to your room.”

 

“B-but…” You stammer as you step forwards.

 

“That wasn’t a suggestion.” A black aura surrounds his horn, and with a blinding flash you find yourself back in the same windowless room. You blink and swing around to find the door closed behind you.

 

The sound of rattling armor and clopping hooves indicate some kind of presence, maybe Sombra has decided to put guards on the door now that his little show and dance is over. You trot over and place an ear against the thick wood, but whoever is outside remains silent.

 

You sigh and slide down onto the floor. It’s cold, just like the floor in the throne room. It causes your new fur to stand on end; you shiver and quickly hop back up. You look around until your eyes fall upon the bed. You jump underneath the sheets and cover your head, the stress of the day building up inside you.

 

You stretch and grab one of the large pillows, holding it against your muzzle and letting out a feral scream of anger, swiftly followed by a rain of blows. You can’t help but imagine Sombra’s stupid smug face as you pummel it, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction from seeing him bleed. You hate him. That bastard! Who the hell does he think he is? He pulled you here for no good reason, and then has the nerve to act causal about it!

 

“Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you!” You scream, letting loose a final two hoofed smash. Your chest heaves as you take in big gulps of cold air, your forearms ache as your violent outburst catches up with you.

 

It’s still quiet.

 

The only thing you can hear is the rapid beating of your heart. Something is here, an unnatural silence that worms its way into your head, unnerving you. You drop the pillow and crawl back under the sheets, curling yourself into the smallest ball possible. You sink into the soft mattress, but as much as you hope, you can't vanish.

 

He’s watching, you know he is. Let him, he’s not going to break you so easily.