Mittle stood in front of the dungeons, watching prisoner after prisoner be relocated out of the lit basement structure and to a different smaller holding cell within the castle. The guards expressions told a very clear hatred for how they’d have to personally babysit them now, but Mittle’s eyes were focused into Cadance’s mane as his mind wandered further and further away from the material world around him. The Crown was kind enough to make arrangements for him immediately.
Though Mittle hated these rituals, he knew it would be necessary to gain more access to abilities that were not inherently his. Using them wildly and harshly at the Crystal Empire made him pay another price, it would be a large one especially so to overtake Sombra by himself. An army was out of the question, Sombra would enslave them all himself. Mittle was lucky enough that he was already ‘owned’ by something.
“Okay, that’s the last one, Princess Celestia,” a guard addressed her while she looked to Mittle.
“Thank you, dismissed,” she mumbled out and the guard took his leave after bowing to her, “Mittle, there is a bucket of water and a bucket for ahem waste already in the dungeons for you.”
Cadance looked up to him, wondering just how long he had been staring at her before watching him test the thick solid iron door, “stable. Do not interrupt me for an entire week. Do not deliver me food, do not deliver me anything else. Do not open this door or you’ll be gone.”
Both the ponies nodded at him, “are you sure you’ll be okay?” Cadance pipped her concern.
“I will. May I speak with Princess Cadance alone?” He addressed to Celestia who left a bit despondent without another word, “I have a request.”
Cadance nodded, “I’ll do it if I can.”
“Hold onto them,” Mittle began taking off armor piece after armor piece until he was left only in linen briefs. It was incredibly unusual to wear metal directly on the skin without a fabric padding layer underneath, Cadance could only imagine how uncomfortable it could be.
Though Mittle was exceptionally muscled underneath all the scars and fresh scabs on his arms, “I...I’ll hold onto them,” Cadance barely meeped out her words. Her pink coat hid her flushed cheeks somewhat well, but not completely while her eyes stayed focused on the floor. She still caught glimpses of the unnatural warping symbol on his chest.
She lifted the armor with her magic, ready to leave herself. His linen briefs fell at her hooves, stained red in many places. Her jaw slackened at the sight. Who knows what she would see if she looked up.
“Return them when you come to unlock me,” he spoke and shut the iron door behind him.
Cadance stood in the entryway to the dungeons astonished before she used her magic to lock the dungeon door with a key and levitated his belongings up. She trotted off from the dungeon, her face still bright red as she began to guess what he looked like.
She looked to the pile of equipment she kept levitated, noticing his ivory sword was not among his armor.
Mittle went about, moving the bucket of water and the empty bucket into a singular cell in the dungeon. He gently blew out candles and snuffed torches as he went, ensuring pitch blackness everywhere else before he came to the cell he moved the water and empty bucket to.
“Nightmares, horrors, abominations...”
He mumbled to himself as he blew out the last candle and then sat in the center of the cell, waiting for the orange glow of the wick to fizzle out completely. The Vehement would begin soon and time would be lost.
The very next day, Cadance checked on him before meeting Princess Celestia and Princess Luna to discuss a plan. The two sisters were already there, staring at the bottom of the door with curiosity. As Cadance drew closer, she could see a black liquid slowly seeping out from the bottom of the door. Though it had no fluid motions that proved ti was moving, it was spreading across the floor sluggishly.
“Aaahaahhhhaaaaaahhhh, aaahhh, eeuuuaaaaaah,” inhuman screams clearly from Mittle screeched through the door, rattling the confidences and fortitudes of all three princesses present who quickly skittered off after the sound.
Within the pitch blackness, Mittle was standing, pacing, walking everywhere. His eyes were shut, his hands constantly bumping into walls and iron bars. Physical touch was the only thing he had to assure himself that he was in this world and not dragged elsewhere.
Screeeek
Something scraped on one of the walls.
Screeeeeeeek gaaaah
And accompanying the second scrape was the exhale of something. They were here.
Mittle’s mind looped in circles. Who would he see this time? What would they want in exchange? What powers would he obtain? Could he just recenter his abilities without much of a cost? Was there more power than the mighty Blood Thunder to wield?
”Mittle.”
In his head, he heard a voice. He could have also heard it projected into his head, or Mittle maybe hallucinated the entire voice. That was the hardest part of talking and conversing with these entities. One could never know if they were real or fake or if they were only real inside the mind.
Mittle heard the unmistakable sound of rocks falling, stone crumbling. In this pitch blackness, he swore he could see gangly humanoid shapes walking around, solid black and darker than dark. The silhouettes looked like a poor imitation of human anatomy, as if on purpose to mock his form or to just simply unnerve him as much as they could.
Tssss
The hiss of metal, of sharp utensil scraped along the ground fled into Mittle’s ears. The sparks from whatever it was lit the cell for just a brief moment. Shadows cast from unseen silhouettes in the black that ran darker through and eventually seamlessly melded throughout the blackness. Mittle let out a small breath as a blue light slowly faded into his view in front, shadow limbs flitted between it and him, obfuscating his vision while they danced around the new illumination.
Haaasssaaaasst
A slow breathe and the grind of sharp teeth exhaled into his ear. Fear overtook him again and he was paralyzed while a second and third blue light lit the cell.
“Blood.”
A voice with no sound projected into his mind. A chorus perfectly united in timing and harmonization to sound exactly like a single entity, a feat no living creature could pull off. When one could communicate with them, they knew secrets, they didn’t have any questions for the universe and eventually they would arrive to a new inquiry. An investigation they would never delve to. Nobody knew if any of these things were alive.
Mittle split open his right arm with his ivory blade, the crimson fell and then ascended. It pooled in the air before it exploded in exact diagrams and sigils all over the walls. More blood was forcefully pulled from his hand, a sign of favoritism, and was painted over more walls of the dungeon. Mittle, however, didn’t feel weak. He felt empowered by the beings putting up their symbols to draw their existence closer to his.
Proactive meant that he was useful to them, it was the only bargaining chip he would have and he still didn’t understand what that meant. Not that he had ever successfully negotiated with these things. He couldn’t even utter a word on all the other Vehements.
”Blood Thunder Knight Mittle,” a name was ominous, terrifying that they actively used it, ”what do you seek?”
Mittle paused for a moment, what did he want? Instant respite to rejuvenate his powers? More power?
“Permancy,” he spoke in haste. They could interpret it however they pleased, but it was the only word he could manage with all the hands digging at his brain, dissecting each thought before his eyes and implanting new ones.
The entities were gods to Blood Thunder Knights, but he and all the others were only experiments. It didn’t leave a bad taste in his mouth like it did before, it was how things were. He could never scale to their height. If he gave them everything, they would grant him power befitting of their lowest minion.
A purple pupil appeared from a black bubbling pond on the floor of the cell, it stared deep at him. Mittle could feel the smile in his thoughts, he knew that it could see what he really desired even if he could not state it.
But he would never be free and they would never let him go, so they would offer something else. This specific rare otherworldly creature would offer him much more than he knew, but much less than others would value.
”Bargain.”
That was not a question.
”Thief is there, you will become a beacon for my balance, my wrath.”
Spoken again in a language he didn’t understand, but projected into his mind as a way he could interpret. This time it lacked images, except for a small cyan heart crested with gold on both sides. Thief was not a noun, it was proper. They, rather it, labeled something in Equestria a thief so much so that it dubbed it a new name. They were implanting their intent for him into his thoughts.
And the image of red eyes, a cursed horn, and corrupt magic was put at the front of his mind.
”Permancy, complete. Within reason.”
Mittle knew what came next, permanent access to their powers without making these visits would leave something lasting on his mind. That was the price, that and usually investigating how a human worked as all of the bodies they had seen differed in ways he or any other human didn’t understand.
The ivory blade split with a black line in the center of the white sword, growing to make a hole filled by a closed black eyelid. The sword lifted without control while the purple pupil, missing a sclera, observed. It in one swift strike, leading from head to toe in a vertical slash and barely cutting Mittle.
”Eeeeuuuuaaaaaaah,” he screeched, but not a soul was around to hear him.
Then the blade slashed in a blinding speed, perfectly like cutting a pizza. Mittle continued to cry out in agony while his skin was peeled back piece by piece. The purple eye watched and lines rose, optic nerves, touching and feeling his muscles as they twitched. Despite his flesh falling back into a twisted pile of flesh attached at his spine behind him, no blood fell. It swirled in the air like it was being held for him.
The sword flashed at incredible speeds again, cutting a little deeper and flaying him alive. Muscles were next, only around his torso and chest. The entity studied and studied his organs again and again as they functioned.
His flesh was not put back, it was kept tied and knotted up behind him while the pupil rose, observing silently while horrifying visions of the destructive visions it entertained spilled into Mittle’s mind. Minutes and minutes of agony all over his body wracked him beyond vocal ability unless the eye forced him so it could study. Hour and hours of deliberation occured in front of him, not that he could understand what was being said between the entities. Not that he could even comprehend or count how many were there either.
Mittle only knew that the price was worth it, they had never told him it’d be a bargain before.
He lost track of time. Lost track of pain. Lost track of light and dark, creature and shadow. Mittle was lost while they continued to torture his mind with showcasings of their earliest sins and earliest divine achievements.