Hey! It looks like you're new here. You might want to check out the introduction.
Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
Reconciliation
Equestria’s greatest villain gave birth in the prison hospital. The staff shackled her to the bed while she labored and washed her clean with a hose.
She never held her child. After one final push, followed by a newborn’s cry, the doctor hustled the foal away. The duty nurse mentioned in passing that it was a colt.
The prisoner, a mare whose name ponies once whispered in fear, who rediscovered the lost art of necromancy and returned it to the world, who stole all the long years of her life from the young and witless and brave, asked if she could name her son.
The nurse said she would check.
They both knew it was a lie.
Oubliette set her coffee on the desk. She pressed her hooves against her eyes, let out a long breath, and counted to ten before speaking.
“She’s what?”
“She’s pregnant,” Sand Dollar, the prison doctor, said for the second time. “I just got the blood tests back from the lab.”
Oubliette stared at the manila folder laid out on her desk. It was filled with the prisoner’s medical files, scribbled all over in Sand Dollar’s illegible hoof.
They had to be wrong. “That’s impossible.”
“And yet she is. What should we do?”
“No, no. Back up.” The warden pushed the folder back toward Sand Dollar. “She spends 24 hours a day locked in a cell, by herself, watched by a team of mages through a thick layer of glass. Even if you could find a stallion who wanted to touch her, they’d never have a chance to knock her up. All the stallions on staff know I would personally geld them if they even thought of trying. She’s not pregnant!”
“I’m pretty sure she is.”
“No!” Oubliette took another breath. “Okay, how?”
He shrugged. “Magic?”
“Magic! That’s all you unicorns ever say. Magic!” Oubliette stomped around the desk and burst out the door. “Come on, we’re visiting her.”
The prisoner – they never used her name – lived in a cozy little cell in the deepest level of the prison. It held a shelf for her books, a small desk with some writing tools, and a comfortable bed, all of which were bolted to the floor. The lights never turned off, though they did dim at night. It wasn’t a bad place to spend eternity, or however many years she had stolen.
Oubliette tapped on the thick glass pane that comprised one of the cell’s walls. Inside, the prisoner looked up from her bed and the book she was reading. A small smile appeared on her lips when she saw her visitors.
“Welcome, welcome.” She closed her book and stretched, then walked over to the window. “So many visitors today. Tell me, have you heard the good news, warden?”
“I heard.” Oubliette fought back the nausea she always felt when speaking to the prisoner. “How?”
“Well, when a stallion and a mare love each other—”
“Shut up!” Oubliette smashed her hoof against the glass. “You know what I mean. What are you up to?”
The prisoner shrugged. “I simply desire to be a mother.” The sly grin returned, showing teeth this time. “Surely you know the feeling, warden.”
Oubliette’s breath fogged the glass. “This is funny to you? Whatever magic or trick this is, it won’t get you out of here. No one escapes.”
“It’s not about escape. It’s simply something I have wanted for years and decided to make true.” The prisoner held her hoof against her belly, which looked normal to Oubliette. “It’s a wonderful feeling. I wish I could share it.”
Oubliette felt a sneer grow on her face, and she longed to reach through the glass, to pummel that smug witch, to give her what she deserved. Her hoof inched toward the cell’s release mechanism. The prisoner’s eyes followed.
Sand Dollar’s stopped her with a hoof on her shoulder. “Don’t let her get to you,” he whispered.
She wanted to snap at him, but he was right. With a final growl at the prisoner, she tromped past the guards and back up the stairs.
Sand Dollar caught up with her in the hallway. “I can do some tests, you know. And there are specialists who can—”
“I’m fine.” Oubliette took a moment to compose herself. “Come on. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Oubliette filled out the colt’s birth certificate. She spent a while mulling over his name.
She settled on Hope.
She never held her child. After one final push, followed by a newborn’s cry, the doctor hustled the foal away. The duty nurse mentioned in passing that it was a colt.
The prisoner, a mare whose name ponies once whispered in fear, who rediscovered the lost art of necromancy and returned it to the world, who stole all the long years of her life from the young and witless and brave, asked if she could name her son.
The nurse said she would check.
They both knew it was a lie.
Oubliette set her coffee on the desk. She pressed her hooves against her eyes, let out a long breath, and counted to ten before speaking.
“She’s what?”
“She’s pregnant,” Sand Dollar, the prison doctor, said for the second time. “I just got the blood tests back from the lab.”
Oubliette stared at the manila folder laid out on her desk. It was filled with the prisoner’s medical files, scribbled all over in Sand Dollar’s illegible hoof.
They had to be wrong. “That’s impossible.”
“And yet she is. What should we do?”
“No, no. Back up.” The warden pushed the folder back toward Sand Dollar. “She spends 24 hours a day locked in a cell, by herself, watched by a team of mages through a thick layer of glass. Even if you could find a stallion who wanted to touch her, they’d never have a chance to knock her up. All the stallions on staff know I would personally geld them if they even thought of trying. She’s not pregnant!”
“I’m pretty sure she is.”
“No!” Oubliette took another breath. “Okay, how?”
He shrugged. “Magic?”
“Magic! That’s all you unicorns ever say. Magic!” Oubliette stomped around the desk and burst out the door. “Come on, we’re visiting her.”
The prisoner – they never used her name – lived in a cozy little cell in the deepest level of the prison. It held a shelf for her books, a small desk with some writing tools, and a comfortable bed, all of which were bolted to the floor. The lights never turned off, though they did dim at night. It wasn’t a bad place to spend eternity, or however many years she had stolen.
Oubliette tapped on the thick glass pane that comprised one of the cell’s walls. Inside, the prisoner looked up from her bed and the book she was reading. A small smile appeared on her lips when she saw her visitors.
“Welcome, welcome.” She closed her book and stretched, then walked over to the window. “So many visitors today. Tell me, have you heard the good news, warden?”
“I heard.” Oubliette fought back the nausea she always felt when speaking to the prisoner. “How?”
“Well, when a stallion and a mare love each other—”
“Shut up!” Oubliette smashed her hoof against the glass. “You know what I mean. What are you up to?”
The prisoner shrugged. “I simply desire to be a mother.” The sly grin returned, showing teeth this time. “Surely you know the feeling, warden.”
Oubliette’s breath fogged the glass. “This is funny to you? Whatever magic or trick this is, it won’t get you out of here. No one escapes.”
“It’s not about escape. It’s simply something I have wanted for years and decided to make true.” The prisoner held her hoof against her belly, which looked normal to Oubliette. “It’s a wonderful feeling. I wish I could share it.”
Oubliette felt a sneer grow on her face, and she longed to reach through the glass, to pummel that smug witch, to give her what she deserved. Her hoof inched toward the cell’s release mechanism. The prisoner’s eyes followed.
Sand Dollar’s stopped her with a hoof on her shoulder. “Don’t let her get to you,” he whispered.
She wanted to snap at him, but he was right. With a final growl at the prisoner, she tromped past the guards and back up the stairs.
Sand Dollar caught up with her in the hallway. “I can do some tests, you know. And there are specialists who can—”
“I’m fine.” Oubliette took a moment to compose herself. “Come on. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Oubliette filled out the colt’s birth certificate. She spent a while mulling over his name.
She settled on Hope.