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Description
It lied before the throne. A king’s weapon. Gazing onto the dorsal plate acting as the axe’s head, Kong snarled fiercely, raising the weapon high above his head and pounding his chest. His roar was ferocious, daring and dangerous to all those who foolishly enter the last home of his people. His roar shook the very foundations of the temple, and everypony flinched back from it.
Twilight, especially, cringed at the sound of Kong’s roar. If Ghidorah didn’t know they were there before, he definitely knew now.
But Kong showed no apprehension, no fear. He approached the throne and stared upon it. Stared upon the bloody handprint—the same as the mark on the front gates, and on the mountains of Black Skull Island—now on the face of the empty throne, and he took his place there. The last king of his people, with not one left to witness his self-declaration.
None except the equines, and Kong stared down at them, planting the axe firmly beside him. His eyes settled on Fluttershy, the Pegasus gazing up at him in wonderous awe.
Kong stared back at her, lips pursing and a gentle mumble reverberating in the back of his throat. She may have been wrong about his family being down there, and yet he was not angry. In fact, he had never felt closer to his family since the day he lost them.
And that alone he was thankful for.
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