Princess Celestia: The Fall of Canterlot (MLP AU)

Chapter 15: The Journey to Isolation

                        The sun hung low in the sky, casting an amber glow over Canterlot as Obsidian Crest stood before the royal palace's gates, his hooves bound and his magic sealed by the enchanted shackles that clung to his legs. The weight of the restraints was nothing compared to the burden of his thoughts. His decision, while necessary, had left him with an overwhelming sense of finality.

The royal guards surrounded him, their expressions cold and emotionless, as they prepared to escort him to the boat that would carry him to the remote prison island. The island, once home to Princess Celestia, now awaited its newest occupant: a rebel who had once sought to challenge the very foundations of Canterlot's rule.

Obsidian took a deep breath, steadying himself as he prepared for the journey ahead. He could feel the stares of the citizens as they gathered along the streets, watching with a mixture of awe and disbelief. Word had spread quickly of his surrender, and now ponies who had once cheered for him stood silent, unsure of what to think.

"Move along," one of the guards barked, breaking the silence as they prodded him forward.

The procession moved through the winding streets of Canterlot, passing markets, homes, and the once-vibrant squares where Obsidian's speeches had inspired hope. Now, those same streets were lined with ponies who whispered in hushed tones, their eyes fixed on the former leader of the rebellion. The air was heavy with tension, the kind that hinted at an unspoken understanding—this was the beginning of a new chapter, one that few could predict.

As they approached the harbor, the distant sight of the prison island came into view. The rocky, barren landmass was shrouded in mist, a solitary place that symbolized the kingdom's power to isolate and suppress its enemies. The very idea of living there, alone and without purpose, weighed heavily on Obsidian's mind.

The boat waiting at the docks was a modest vessel, manned by a small crew of royal guards. Its simple design spoke to the utilitarian nature of the mission—it was not meant for comfort, only to serve as a transport for prisoners. As Obsidian was led aboard, he cast one final glance back toward the city. Canterlot, with all its towering spires and sprawling streets, seemed so distant now, both physically and emotionally.

Cosmos and Galaxia had not come to see him off. Their absence was telling. This was not a moment they wished to commemorate, nor a gesture of mercy they sought to celebrate. For them, this was simply a necessary step to maintain their grip on power.

As the boat pushed off from the docks and the oars dipped into the water, the city slowly receded into the horizon. Obsidian sat at the bow, his eyes fixed on the island ahead. The mist surrounding it seemed almost impenetrable, a shroud that symbolized the unknown fate awaiting him.

Hours passed in silence, the rhythmic sound of the oars the only thing breaking the stillness of the journey. Obsidian's mind wandered back to the choices that had led him here—the speeches, the rallies, the confrontations with Cosmos' guards. He had once believed that revolution was the only answer, that violence was a necessary evil to dismantle the tyranny of the crown. But now, as he faced exile, those beliefs seemed hollow, like echoes of a younger, angrier pony.

Was this the right choice? Surrendering himself, allowing the rebellion to fade? The question gnawed at him. He had told Cosmos and Galaxia that his decision was for the good of the kingdom, to ease the unrest and bring about peace. But deep down, he couldn't help but wonder if he had betrayed his cause.

The boat crested a wave, and the mist began to thin as the island drew nearer. The jagged cliffs and rocky shores came into focus, a foreboding sight that sent a chill through Obsidian's spine. This would be his home now—a place of solitude, cut off from the world he had fought so hard to change.

The guards disembarked first, their hooves crunching against the rocky shore as they secured the boat. They moved quickly, their expressions still impassive, as they prepared to escort Obsidian to his new prison. The island itself was barren, devoid of any life save for the few guards stationed there. The wind howled through the empty landscape, carrying with it a sense of isolation that weighed heavy on Obsidian's heart.

"This way," one of the guards said, motioning toward a narrow path that led up the cliffs.

Obsidian followed, his hooves dragging slightly with each step. The climb was steep, and the jagged rocks beneath him made the ascent slow and treacherous. As they reached the top of the cliffs, a small, stone building came into view—a solitary cell, much like the one that had held Celestia before her escape.

The door to the cell was heavy and reinforced with iron, its darkened wood worn with age. The guards opened it with little fanfare, revealing a sparse interior: a single bed, a small window overlooking the sea, and nothing else. It was a place designed for one purpose—to keep its occupant isolated and powerless.

Obsidian stepped inside, the weight of his decision fully settling on him as the door creaked shut behind him. The sound of the lock turning echoed through the small space, final and absolute. He walked to the window, staring out at the endless expanse of water that stretched before him. The waves crashed against the shore, indifferent to his presence, a reminder that the world would go on without him.

For the first time in a long while, Obsidian Crest was truly alone.

He sat on the bed, the silence of the cell pressing in on him from all sides. There was no grand speech to deliver here, no crowd to rally or inspire. Here, he was just another prisoner, left to face the consequences of his choices.

But despite the solitude, there was a strange sense of peace that settled over him. Perhaps, in this isolation, he would find the clarity he had sought for so long. Perhaps, in this silence, he could reflect on what peace truly meant—for himself, for Canterlot, and for the future he had once dreamed of building.

As the night fell and the stars emerged in the sky above, Obsidian Crest closed his eyes, letting the calm of the island wash over him. The journey to the prison island was over, but his journey toward understanding had just begun.