What Hath Joined Together

Chapter 6

                                                                           Habeas Corpus — Part II

In the innards of Canterlot Castle, down several levels of stairs, through a series of dark, twisted corridors, and behind multiple sets of heavy, guarded, triple-locked steel doors, laid the dungeon. The stallions who were assigned to guard this prison often joked to one another that it laid in the bowels of Canterlot Castle for good reason, given the inhabitants there.

While torture belonged to a much darker time in Equestrian history—before the founding of the nation itself, during which the three tribes waged war against each other—the punishment criminals met here in this enlightened and modern age wasn't much better, Orion thought. A dark, lonely cell, furnished only by a single desk, chair, rock-hard bed, and toilet, coupled with meals of oats and hay (complimented perfectly by the most tepid water he'd ever drank), made for hard times indeed.

And that wasn't even getting started on the squeezing limiter around his horn, or the snickering Royal Guards who hoofed him meals, or the draft. Oh, Celestia, the draft.

Although he'd only been behind bars for two days, he had already become an expert on the dungeon. Along with Orion, four others were currently imprisoned: two Canterlot art thieves, whose zest for rare paintings was unmet with a competency in crime; a Manehatten counterfeiter, who made bits in his basement, and would've gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for "those damn foals"; and an attempted arsonist from Appleloosa, who had been caught trying to set the local salt-bar on fire. This last criminal had pled guilty by reason of insanity, but his thick accent and slow wit weren't proof enough.

While the four others were true criminals, Orion refused to believe that he was deserving of living amongst these scum. He spoke to them only when spoken to, and refused to humor the smug guards with any conversation. He kept to himself, waiting, biding, thinking of Clover. This passed the time sufficiently enough, not that he would be able to keep time, anyway.

Like the finest of Las Pegasus casinos, there were no clocks down in the bowels of Canterlot Castle, and no windows to show the exchange of princesses and their stars. Not that he found anything lovable about the sun or moon anymore, anyway.

As he pushed away his second offered meal of the day—another bowl of hay and oats—Orion's monotony was interrupted by another Royal Guard arriving to "greet" him. This one—sporting purple armor and even more pride than the rest—he recognized as the Captain.

The Captain bucked a hindhoof against the bars of his cell, drilling a loud rattling into Orion's ears. "Wake up! It's time, scumbag."

"Time?" Orion snorted, meeting the Captain's steely eyes. "Time for what? More verbal abuse? My name is Orion, not 'scumbag' or 'slimeball.'"

"Anypony who raises hoof or horn against the Princesses is a scumbag." Ironhoof clapped his forehooves. Two white pegasi guards trotted up to join him, along with a hulking brute that Orion recognized as one of the dungeon guards. All four stared daggers at the prisoner.

"I am innocent until proven guilty," Orion said flatly, "and you are not the judge of either."

Ironhoof flared his nostrils, sparking his horn. He directed his aura towards two pairs of hoof-cuffs hanging from nails on a nearby wall. "Pleading innocence will only drag out your misery, slimeball. We have four witnesses. You have nothing."

Ignoring this, Orion leaned up on his hindhooves against the bars. "That is what you believe," he said, unflinching from the Captain's gaze. "I am entitled to a fair trial if I so please, and that is what I shall receive."