Roshambo trudged through the thick frigid snow which lined the streets of every interweaving district and hidden passageways of the Crystal Empire. He wore a coat too heavy for a yak, and far more heavy for someone of such weak and frail stature as himself. He hid his identity, a stranger to those who would hate him, not for who he is, but what he is. They would hate him with every fiber of every being, bearing a heart colder than the blizzard the ponies had brought upon themselves. The Crystal Empire, once mighty and magnificent, once rich in culture and influence, once a dominant power to every living being, now crumbled like the ruins of the fabled Two Sisters. The Crystal Empire once known for its luminosity was gone, and in its place, a shell of a populous too lazy to clean the sidewalks.
Roshambo was an umbrum. Much like Sombra of old, Roshambo was bullied, isolated, and treated as lesser by all who identified his weakness, not through personal interactions, but merely his existence. They did not know who he was nor what he was, but like Sombra, it mattered little. There was something about umbrum that attracted the ire of anybody present.
He was not sad for this. He had become numb to the torment he endured. He prevailed, and he hoped for a better tomorrow. Though it bothered him deeply the disrespect and irony of the crystal ponies, he could not stop himself for loving the city which sat above the grave of the umbrum prison his ancestors called their home.
Despite everything, Roshambo stayed in the Crystal Empire. He knew the love that he craved so desperately for, as it sickened him every year of the festival. Though umbrum like him were hated throughout the world, nobody could hate his form more than himself. Every year, he wished to be with the ponies, celebrating the unity and perseverance of the empire. Every year, he sat before a toilet.
But things were different today.
Roshambo had been planning this venture for years; he would present himself to her majesty Princess Flurryheart and beg for his assistance. He knew what was to come where nobody else knew. He was desperate, he was scared, and he shivered to his bones. It wasn’t the frostbite, but rather his nerves. This meeting, he claimed, would define the future for all.
“Come in.” Princess Flurryheart sat tired at her throne. Bags pulled her tired eyes down, and she sprawled in a rather majestic way. To anybody unfamiliar with politics, Princess Flurryheart could be considered lazy. Perhaps they would be right to believe so. Roshambo forgave those who thought the same. “Be quick,” she uttered, “I tire of bad news.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose. A nap seemed to be in order.
Roshambo bowed. “I’m sorry for disturbing your peace, my liege. I come in a time of desperation.” He ripped his coat off, and his saddlebag spilled on the ground, scrolls drifting across the wide open and dirty room. He rushed to collect them, racing rather silly in his weird show. “As I’m sure you’re aware, the populous is, well…” he thought about his words carefully. “Lazy.”
“Have you come to insult me?” Princess Flurryheart said. “You may be gone.” She waved him away with a hoof.
Roshambo stuttered. “My apologies, my liege.” There was no table, so he sprawled his scribbled notes and sketches on the floor. “I fear for what is to come. The Crystal Heart is weakening--I can feel it cry in pain. But I have a plan. Please, if you would just hear me out.”
Princess Flurryheart, without so much as a nod nor a shake of her head, motioned to the guards sleeping at their posts. They awoke by a stomp of a powerful hoof, shaking the dreary dreams from their reality. Roshambo grabbed his scrolls and papers, hurrying before they could be trampled over, and he cried. “Princess, you have to believe me! The life of the Empire is coming to an end! Please, listen to me!” Yet she did not. She cared little for the babbling of the doomcaller, like a flea in her mane. Roshambo was whisked out of the court, and into the same frozen streets he trudged through to get here.
Panic rose in him. He felt the shattering coming. He recollected his belongings, and fell into Plan B. The Crystal Heart would explode. He knew this, and it seemed he was the only one to know.
He rushed by the ponies with their heads down, some miraculously falling asleep on the streets covered by snow. He was not pursued, as there was nothing to pursue. He was another pony, and that was all he was.
He reached the Crystal Heart, shaking and glowing. He looked every which way, frantically looking for something, anything. He knew not what it was he sought. Plan B wasn’t so much of a plan as it was a ‘figure it out’ improv act.
Everything has a final straw. For the Crystal Heart, it was the two ponies by the failing bakery, door boarded up from the inside and windows covered by blankets. They argued. Roshambo couldn’t grasp what it was they argued over, but it was likely something petty and pointless. He wanted so badly to stop them, to beg for harmony, but he couldn’t. He stood frozen. The snow drifted around his hooves. He stared at the Crystal Heart, knowing what was to come. An explosion of hatred.
~~~***~~~
The shattering of the Crystal Heart was felt in every street. A new artificial blizzard blanketed the already tall piled of snow which covered windows and doors. In a fraction of a second, everything shattered; the lampposts illuminating the dreary streets, the walls built of stones thousands of years old without compliance to new building codes, and even the cobblestone roads itself. In an instance, before anyone could comprehend the tragedy that was to unfold, the Crystal Empire, in the blink of an eye, had become ruined. Any traveller returning would not be able to recognize the city as it was a mere moment ago. It was sudden, and then it was over. Now, nothing remains.
Roshambo was an umbrum. The shock of the Crystal Heart rippled right past him, as he expected, as he knew. The two ponies lost their balance and had been swept up far away out of sight. The world around him lacked the mob that had once prevailed over hatred.
Roshambo grabbed the several pieces of the Crystal Heart which laid shattered all across the floor, buried in snow, and some embedded in the walls. He uselessly pushed the pieces together as if a magical force could tape and glue the heart back together. He cried, for it was only him who he felt could care. He was lost, abandoned, and now without hope. He clutched the pieces he could find to his chest. It was all over. The very disaster he tried to prevent had taken place, and the world was no more.
He sat with his back to a pillar, now empty of a roof. He lost himself in his stupor. Time moved on like it had forgotten him, and hours turned into weeks. He, like the Empire, was lost and broken. There was nowhere to go, and he did not move. He lived like this, now a part of the ruins itself.
~~~***~~~
“Roshambo?” A quiet yet majestic voice asked. It had been months now, and Roshambo was hardly present. “Is that you?”
Ice had glued his eyes shut, and so he had to pull his lids open to see. The world was dark, as there was no sun to reflect off the snow. “That is me.” He said, a voice forgotten even by himself.
The pony before him sat tall. If there was shade to cast, he would be underneath. They both waited in silence, not knowing what words to exchange, nor what words could be said. But she spoke. “I’m…sorry.”
Roshambo, vision restored, looked the Princess up and down. “You’re…sorry?” He felt as if he had been lost in a dream. “What is there to be sorry for, your Majesty?”
Even in the face of death, the Princess sat tall. “Even now, when the world we both know is ruined, a kind soul like yourself still seeks to amend.” She smiled and, with a long hoof, lifted his chin up. “I know who you are.”
The words sunk deep into his chest. He had no tears to cry, yet he cried. “What is it you know, Princess?”
“I know you. And I’m sorry.” She bowed her head, shame casting through the ruins. “I should have listened to you. I should have known. I know not the words to say, as words cannot heal the destruction that I and our people had brought upon us.” She motioned around the pair. “I pushed you away, like everypony else had. I knew not why, but I now know.”
“What is that?” Roshambo asked.
“You’re like that of the former King Sombra himself. I remember the stories–the umbrum who cried in despair and isolation. The prison we live above.” She rubbed her foreleg and, in a rather unmajestic fashion, shed the tears he could not. “We were all wrong to outcast you. My Mother and Father would disagree, as would many of the ponies now gone. But I see now–I see far too late.”
“I’m…sorry.” Roshambo said. The thoughts in his head formed no words appropriate for life. “I’m, well…I’m sorry.”
“Even now,” said the Princess, “you seek forgiveness. But it is not you who should apologize.” She wept, and her voice cracked. “I was unfit to wear the burden of my family. There is nothing I can do now.” She hung her head in shame. “I wish to ask for your forgiveness, as the only soul who knows us best, but I do not expect anything but vitriol. I understand if you wish for my unsafe return. There is nothing more I can do.”
The two creatures sat in silence for a time rivaling that of the months past. Roshambo then interrupted the present, and he hugged the Princess. He clutched his ghastly hooves around her frail form tight, and now, finally, he shed his tears. “Please don’t apologize, Princess. I forgive you, as I have forgiven all the ponies of the Crystal Empire. I always have, and I always will.”
The Princess, though seemingly frozen, broke. She clutched the only pony who could understand her, wishing she could never let go. “You are loved.” She said. “Though it is too late, I wish you could know how great you are. We needed you. I am so sorry.”
That was how the day went, both frozen, scared, but finally, once and for all, illuminated by the warm embrace of mutual love.
~~~***~~~
It had long gone past, and the Crystal Empire had been reborn. Roshambo had left his umbra form, sacrificing himself with all the love of the world, as an umbrum could. The mere love of two seemingly opposite lost lives was all that was needed. The pieces of the Crystal Heart found their unity together, and with the absence of the much-hated umbrum, and the power that which he invoked on the world, the heart became one. The Crystal Empire would never be the same, but it would survive. The once lazy ponies, comfortable in disharmony, found love once more.