“There’s cake, if anypony wants some.”

Everypony else seated around the table—a small gray pegasus mare, the Changeling, Lady Chrysalis, and the speaker’s twin brother—all shook their heads. It was the first cake any of them had seen in years, brought to the Justices Flim and Flam’s courtroom by some admirers, and none of them were hungry for it.

“I thought not,” said Justice Flim.

“But we thought we’d ask,” added his brother.

The light of a glorious summer full moon slanted through four stained glass windows, replicas of the small ones in the former King Sombra’s private chambers, casting multi-colored shadows on the floor. The Justices sometimes quipped that they liked the stained glass window of themselves (“Pictures of us!” “Weakness of ours!”), but the presence of the other three windows with their friends in them put the lie to this. The windows belonged together, a visible sign of their friendship with each other, and with another friend, who was now out of the picture and out of their lives.

From outside, the four at the table could hear ponies celebrating. Fillies and colts squealed in delight, grown ponies danced, complete strangers grabbed each other and kissed, and impromptu parades and carnivals sprung up on every street corner. “Heartless,” said Justice Flam, shaking his head and refilling the glass in front of him.

The Grey Scholar slid her glasses down her nose. “They’re not celebrating his downfall,” she said. “They’re celebrating because the land is beautiful again. Their children aren’t starving. You can hardly blame them.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Justice Flim said. “At the courthouse, I’ve been hearing that King Sombra put a curse on the land. He put a curse on the land!—and the princesses lifted it! Stupidity. It’s enough to make you tear your mane out.” He levitated the bottle of apple brandy in front of his brother and refilled his glass, too.

“And question what the hay we’ve been doing all these years,” his brother added. “Justice, my left hind hoof.”

A sky blue alicorn burst through the door, blowing hard.

“I’ve been trying to break through to him all day!” she gasped. “All day! I’ve tried everything, everything he taught me. Nothing works.”

“Defensive shields were his specialty,” said the Lady Chrysalis. “I suppose they still are.”

The Gray Scholar looked at Princess Trixie sharply. “Is he protecting himself from us, or us from him?”

“I . . . I think it’s both,” she said, still breathing heavily. Justice Flam courteously pulled a chair out for her, and she dropped into it. “He’s sent all the guards away, all the servants away—and he’s pulling up the walls. He’s all by himself in there. There’s . . . there’s ice growing up the shield, too. Do you think he’s trying to—to die? He said he hoped that no one would shed tears for his death if he ever became like that other Sombra.”

The older mare shook her head. “That’s easy for him to say, isn’t it? But you do make an interesting point, Trixie.” She pulled over a small pile of books. The rest of them stared.

“How did you get those?” said Trixie. “Those were in his private library! I can’t get anywhere near that!”

“Perhaps not now, which is why I borrowed them shortly before that confrontation with the princesses. I’ll be certain to put them back when it’s possible to do so. Hmmm.” She flipped through her notes. “As you know, there is another world, another Equestria—and we’ve been speaking of it as though it were a mirror of ours, but that’s not strictly true. There are some important differences. They have the Elements of Harmony. We do not. We have science that they do not. Our Sombra cannot simply have turned into theirs. For one thing, their Sombra was a usurper who took over the Crystal Empire.”

All the others at the table looked blank.

“What’s the Crystal Empire?” said Flim.

“I’ve never heard of it,” his brother said, levitating the bottle back and refilling his glass.

“Exactly,” said the Scholar. “As far as I can tell, we don’t have one. And his Majesty has ruled Equestria ever since the Three Tribes asked him to, well over a thousand years ago. The other Sombra enslaved and tortured his ponies. Does that sound like our Sombra?”

The Justices looked at each other. “No, of course not,” said Flam.

“He was always fair,” said Flim. “It’s . . . well, it’s one reason why we loved him. Flam,” he added, coughing, “pour me another glass while you’re at it, will you?”

“The other Sombra was greedy. Was ours?” she said, looking over her glasses.

“No.” Trixie shook her head. “The castle always had the poorest food. He saw to that.”

“The Sombra in these books cursed an Empire and had a ‘heart as black as night.’ Our Sombra sacrificed himself and saved the mare he loved, another mare who had done him and his ponies nothing but harm, and two universes,” said the Gray Scholar.

“And his heart was clean,” said Lady Chrysalis softly. “I am sure of that. I know.”

The Scholar snapped her book shut. “He may have turned himself into the villain,” she said, “but our friend could no more turn himself evil than red could turn itself into blue.”

“But he took in all that dark magic,” said the alicorn princess. “He cursed himself. He taught me that dark magic corrupts. It’s why he made me that protective amulet. It’s why he wanted nothing to do with dark magic—he knew what it would do to him. And I’ve tried and tried to get through!”

“Yes,” said Lady Chrysalis. “Dark magic does corrupt. It will eat through the heart in time.”

“The question is, then, what can we do?” said the Scholar. “What does he need?”

They all gazed down at the table, as though it would provide an answer.

“A reformer?” said Trixie, hesitantly.

Flam snorted. “Reform. You can’t reform a pony who doesn’t want to be reformed,” he said.

“We know,” his brother said. “We’ve tried.”

“Dozens of times,” added Flam. “Community service, thirty days, programs. . .” He hiccupped.

“‘Thanks for the second chance,’ she says, ‘only it’s the, the fifty-sixth . . .” said Flim, “only it’s sort of nice to see her in court again. ‘S’comin’ up again Monday. Petty larceny. Almost like she cares.” He rubbed his eyes. “Sorry. What was this about?”

“Yes, well,” the Scholar said acerbically, “whether it works or not, he can’t be reformed, because in point of fact, he hasn’t done anything. And he certainly doesn’t need a new love when what’s left of his shattered heart is full of her. He doesn’t need to be reformed; he needs to be healed. If he were to do what the other Sombra did, we would have to follow his wishes. He would rather die than harm anypony: so be it. But he hasn’t. I won’t let him banish himself into the ice. I am his friend and I will not give up on him.”

“I can’t bear to think of him living for thousands of years with only his own dark thoughts for company,” said Trixie. “It seems so unfair.”

“Fairness,” Flim said bitterly. “Fairness is for suckers. Look where it gets you. If he’d done as we asked, he might be with his Princess and happy today, but oh, no, he just had to save everypony and her worthless sister.”

“He should have looked out for himself,” agreed Flam. “Bugger justice, it can look after itself, ‘cos that’s what I’m gonna do. ‘Cept for you, of course,” he said to Flim.

The small gray mare rose, trotted to their side of the table, and slapped each on the face. She did not slap them hard, but water stood in their eyes.

“Listen to me,” she said firmly. “You are going to go upstairs and go to bed, and tomorrow you will get up bright and early and get down to the courtroom. And you will play that organ and sing and dance, because. . . ?”

“The show must go on,” Flim said dully.

“What was that?”

“The show must go on,” they repeated.

“There’s my good colts,” she said. “Give me a hug.”

They rose and hugged her, one on each side. They towered over her, but she held them down tightly to her. “There’s my good colts,” she said softly. “Now off to bed. Tomorrow will look much brighter. You’ll see.”

They left the room, leaning heavily on each other. The remaining three could hear crashes and thumps upstairs as the Justices made their way to bed. “Poor boys,” said Lady Chrysalis. “They must feel their Element is worthless.”

“It hit them hard,” agreed the gray pegasus. “Fairness requires a certain level of optimism, and they’re all tapped out. They’ll bounce back by tomorrow, you’ll see. They always do—you can’t keep them down. And they know that justice doesn’t happen all by itself.”

Trixie sniffed. “Trixie is far better than that,” she said. “Trixie would not lose faith in her Element so quickly.”

“Trixie just did,” the Scholar pointed out, and Trixie slapped her hoof to her mouth in horror. “And we can’t allow that to happen. It would make his sacrifice pointless.” She sighed. “I’m just a bookworm, and I really don’t know anything about magic. It will have to be up to you two.”

Trixie shook her head. “I’m not powerful enough to expel all that darkness,” she said, “and we don’t know where it would go. I think that’s why he took it all into himself.” She sighed. “And you know he would be happy with all this,” she added, waving her hoof at the celebrations outside. “His ponies well-fed and healthy again, flowers growing. I’ve always wanted that, too. Containing and imprisoning dark magic is the first thing I’d think of, and that’s what he’s done. If there’s a force overwhelming enough to obliterate it in our world, I’m sure he would have used it before.”

“Darkness does not have to be imprisoned or obliterated,” said the Lady Chrysalis. “It can be Changed.”

She saw the looks of confusion on her friends’ faces, and continued. “That is what I and my people do. We feed and transmute. We Change. Few beings are dark or evil in themselves, and Sombra certainly is not. The darkness in him can be broken down and turned into what is good. I have done this for him for years.”

“Can you do that now?” said Trixie eagerly.

“No,” Chrysalis replied. “I took only small amounts from him at a time. There never was very much,” she said, shaking her head. “But our friend has swallowed thousands of years of dark magic built up in two powerful beings. I and all my people could not remove it without risking poisoning ourselves. The process often leaves the patient weak. Sucking away so much at a time might kill him. And then he was willing. Now he will fight us all off, believing that he must remain evil in order to protect everypony, and Sombra’s defenses are powerful, even when he is not angry. And he must be very angry. He certainly will be angry at us for trying to help him.”

“And time is not on our side,” she continued. “The dark magic within him has already begun to eat him away. We would have to move quickly.”

“But we must try,” said the Gray Scholar.

“Yes,” Chrysalis said, nodding. “We must. Although you must make the decision, Princess.”

Trixie shook her head. “No longer a princess if he is not King,” she said. She rose from the table, and an expression of intense pain flitted across her features.

“Are you trying to un-princess yourself? Well, good luck with that,” said the gray pegasus, snorting. “I think you’ll find you’re stuck that way. You’ll be needed. You were Sombra’s student, and Celestia has no experience ruling a country in a benevolent way, only in trying to destroy it. You must offer to help, even if that offer is rejected.”

Trixie looked up sadly. “Do you think my help would even be acceptable?”

“It will,” said a new voice, and they all looked up to see Princess Luna framed in the doorway. All of the others sank into a deep bow. “None of that,” she said. “Come here, child.” Trixie ran towards Luna, who folded a wing over her. “I mourn for him, too.”

The gray pegasus stood straight, head up. “We intend no threat to the lawful rulers of Equestria. We want only to help our friend.”

“As do I,” said the moon princess. “He was like a brother to me. I know him far better than I know my own sister. He saved my life several times over. Of course I will help.”

She dropped the wing encircling Trixie, and moved to the center of the table, placing her right hoof on it. “The last favor his Celestia asked of me was to look after Equestria and to look after him. I shall do both. I shall not permit his memory to suffer,” she added, looking towards the gray pegasus.

“That will please Flim and Flam,” she said. “The injustice of that hurts them deeply.”

“Thank you, Princess Luna,” said Lady Chrysalis, a smile lighting up her odd face. “He thinks he is alone, but he is not. That in itself is powerful magic.”

“He will never see his Princess again,” said Luna, withdrawing her hoof and bowing her head, “and for that, I am partly at fault.”

Chrysalis hesitated. “I do not like to say ‘impossible’ where love is concerned, and they both may have thousands of years to live yet. They must both know that they will probably never meet again, but that doesn’t mean love dies. Like anything else, it merely Changes. But he can be healed, and he has the love of his friends, and friendship . . .

. . . Friendship is worth something.”

Author's Notes:

This simply required an ending, or at least an epilogue. And as this chapter title suggests, this is only the beginning of the next stage in the Mirrorverse. There is so much more to know—about the Justices Flim and Flam, Princess Trixie and her amulet, the Gray Scholar, the Other Mane Six (or as they’re described in a Wanted Poster, the Erroneous Equines), and most certainly about Good King Sombra. And his heart remains Good. I am sure it does.

I don’t have an overall arc planned for this, but I didn’t for my CheesePie stories, either, and you may have noticed that there are quite a lot of them. So I do intend to keep exploring the Mirrorverse, and I hope other artists and writers do, too.