William tossed and turned all night long, tormented by harrowing dreams.

Over and over again he awoke in a semiconscious terror, desperately struggling to escape the illusions. His nightmares all consisted of patterns in which he was trapped in small rooms that reminded him vaguely of Saint Claire’s, vainly searching for Scootaloo. She never answered, no matter how many times he looked; he only found Silver Spoon behind every door he tried to leave through, staring judgmentally at him in hateful silence.

Sometimes, she barely looked alive; sometimes, Silver Spoon was aflame, reaching out for him with burning hooves.

He finally awoke in a cold sweat, clutching tightly at his sheets as he lay with his head turned toward the opposite end of the bed. William stared at the ceiling for a while, images of his haunting dreams still dancing before his eyes and making his heart pound in his ears. He eventually managed to shake it off, through thorough analysis of his nightmares and their many logical inconsistencies. It helped William reign in his senseless fear, and he repeatedly scolded himself for his childishness before silently dragging himself out of bed.

Uncertain of the time, but sure that it was either very very late or very very early, William snuck wordlessly out of his room and crept down the hall. His bare feet made very little noise as he walked, and he tried to tiptoe toward the kitchen to avoid waking Rainbow Dash.

A glass of water was all he needed, to be sure. He was feeling better already, and a quick wash up would probably leave him comfortably awake enough to have forgotten the dream, meaning that he could fall asleep again with impunity. Or at least, that was the idea.

William was a little surprised to hear the sound of running water the closer he slunk toward the kitchen. His heart raced again, and the irrational fear that Silver Spoon would be waiting for him in the dark made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. William gave himself a little shake, forcing his feet forward to investigate.

To his relief, his fears were completely unwarranted – the only one in the kitchen was Pinkie Pie, leaning over the kitchen sink in the dark.

Once more, however, William’s hair rose up in fear as he felt that something were inherently… wrong. The closer he drew, the louder her insane muffled laughing was, and William’s heartbeat was so painfully loud that it seemed to be lodged in his throat. He couldn’t speak for the intense fear, his shaking growing so violent that it was difficult to feel his fingertips properly. Still he was drawn closer, almost involuntarily.

William’s legs felt like he were standing in jelly, gradually being pulled forward by his own curiosity despite his unexpected and inexplicable fear.

“Gotta get it off, gotta get it off… can’t get it off…!”

“Miss Pie?” he choked, extending a quivering hand out to the madly giggling mare, who was bent away from him over the sink.

No sooner had he done so that Pinkie Pie whirled on the spot, snagging up an uncomfortably large knife from the rack nearby.

William toppled over in terror, scrabbling backwards as he failed to even scream, terrified as he was by the maniacal stifled laughter and unnaturally shaped smile.

Pinkie Pie shakily dropped the knife, hoof over her heart as William was granted a closer look in the dark; Pinkie Pie hadn’t been laughing, she was crying. Her mouth was pulled into a tight grimace, her teeth clenched so tightly that he had confused it for a disturbing leer. She also appeared to be partially coated in suds from washing, and William stared in shock for a long moment.

Instead of picking up the knife that she had grabbed in her own fear or helping William to his feet, she desperately covered her face with the crook of her elbow while turning, using another hoof to wave William away as she tried to muffle her sniffles.

“M-Miss Pie – Pinkie?” William finally managed to ask in concern as she frantically tried to wipe her face with a towel, quietly blubbering a hurried excuse that he was supposed to be in bed before hiding her face in the towel.

Noiselessly, William nonchalantly dropped the knife in the sink and slowly turned off the water, dabbing up the soap and water that had been spread in the confusion with another towel as Pinkie Pie cleaned herself up. He remained silent until she had completely stopped her miserable snuffles, and quietly cleared her throat a couple of times.

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” Pinkie pointed out eventually, uselessly folding and refolding the little towel that she held.

“Are you all right, Miss Pie?” William asked quietly, suddenly conscious that he had not been blinking at all.

“Yeah, yeah!” the familiar plastic smile spread onto her face, though William obviously wasn’t fooled. “Auntie Pinkie’s great. Just had something in my eye –”

“I hate a liar.”

Pinkie Pie found herself immobilized by his hawkish glare, emotionless stare burning a hole in her. She bit her tongue, struggling with herself for a moment.

William bridged the short distance between them, placing a hand on each of her cheeks before carefully forcing her to look him in the eyes.

“Tell me why you were crying, Pinkie Pie.”

She had to refrain from shuddering, thoroughly creeped out by the boy’s behavior. Gone was the concerned look, replaced with that blank, empty stare – like there was something wrong with his eyes. That, coupled with his words. Not ones of comfort, not a single request – it was a demand, and he spoke with an authority that didn’t belong behind the voice of a child.

She opened and closed her mouth multiple times, but nothing seemed to come from it.

Unexpectedly, William hugged her. Pinkie couldn’t help but flinch when he did so, for reasons that she could not ascertain.

“My statement stands, Pinkie,” he spoke evenly in her ear, though she couldn’t seem to find the strength to break away from his weak grip. “Don’t lie to me again.”

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed suddenly, leaning on his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Will.”

“My name is William.”

Pinkie Pie had been on the verge of telling him the truth about what she had done to his father; she knew it, it was practically on her lips. William’s cold insistence upon his name seemed to partially snap her out of her despair, and she violently shook herself.

She could only imagine the unbelievable folly it would be, to tell him.

Within seconds, Pinkie Pie was wiping her eyes again and slowly but gently pushed him away.

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” Pinkie finally regained control of the situation, deeply shaken at just how obviously the roles had been reversed. It was unnatural, how quickly and easily William had been assuming control, like he barely had to make effort in order to exert his influence. To be honest, it frightened Pinkie Pie – but it was quickly buried beneath the mountain of other emotions that Pinkie was attempting to deal with, all of which were steadily pushed away as she nudged the boy back to bed.

“That does not help matters in the slightest,” William crossed his arms crankily as he carried himself back to bed, the urge to sleep falling heavily on him once again. “I do not know how you expect me to assist if you continue to deny your dilemma, whatever it may be.”

“Assist,” Pinkie snorted stuffily, urging him to his bedroom. “More like-”

She stopped suddenly, leaving William even more flabbergasted. He turned to face her in the hallway, his confusion only growing.

“What? More like what?” he inquired, desperate for any kind of information.

“Something else,” Pinkie Pie replied vaguely, softly turning him around and pointing firmly toward his room. “It’s too early. Bed.”

Although he did not show it, William was equally perturbed by the normally cheerful mare’s apparent mood swings. First she was miserable, then she was terrified, afterwards angry, and now cryptic?

She repeated herself, and William silently surrendered to her insistence, regardless of his burning curiosity.

He didn’t sleep, though.

William still found himself tossing and turning from side to side for hours, unable to get the horrible image of a Scootaloo that he could never find out of his mind.

It only bothered him more that he couldn’t determine why it bothered him so much.

“Should have gotten the damned water,” he grumbled inaudibly as he rolled again, jamming the sheets over his eyes in vain attempt to seek the sleep that had so cruelly abandoned the night.

“I dunno,” Apple bloom said uncertainly, her wary gaze cast out of the clubhouse window with scrutiny. “Kinda looks like rain. But just kinda, I can’t really tell…”

“I believe that Miss Dash claimed that a thunderstorm would appear either late tonight or tomorrow morning and into the afternoon,” William stated matter of factly, and the farm pony shrugged.

“Well, that’s sort of helpful,” Sweetie Belle nodded thoughtfully, scratching her horn absentmindedly. “More vague than anything, but at least it’s something to go on.”

“I suppose,” William hummed distractedly, resuming his pacing. It was a little annoying to Sweetie Belle, that he hadn’t been paying attention at all from the moment he found that Scootaloo still hadn’t arrived at their clubhouse yet. He shook his head, attempting to drag himself back to the task at hand.

“You don’t actually believe it though… right, Will?” Apple Bloom asked uncomfortably, the doubt plain on her face. “I-I mean, Silver Spoon wouldn’t actually… well, y’know.”

“That remains under suspicion,” William said offhandedly, not ceasing his pacing. He started to speak again, but only snapped his mouth shut and shook his head.

“That’s still an awfully dark thing to say.” Sweetie Belle frowned, thinking. “But what if… if it’s true?”

“I doubt that pointing fingers will get anyone anywhere,” he stated firmly, walking more fervently back and forth. “But there are a number of things that make me extremely uneasy about the entire affair. I don’t know, but-”

William stopped suddenly, losing himself in thought as he rubbed his temples.

Had Silver Spoon’s parents inadvertently killed her?

Perhaps it wasn’t directly, or maybe not even deliberately. Either way, the mere thought made William feel horrible for even thinking it. However, he couldn’t simply put it aside, and he needed answers.

“Where is she…” he muttered, peering out the window again and disappointed at Scootaloo’s failure to arrive.

“Scoots did say that she had something planned this mornin’,” Apple Bloom proffered, which seemed to help William a little. “Didn’t say what, though.”

He huffed through his nostrils, and marched out the door to travel down the ramp.

“Hey!” Sweetie called after him. “Are you really that impatient?”

“Tell Scoots I said hello,” William called over his shoulder, his mind racing. “I’m going to go see Diamond Tiara!”

And he left both Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom severely confused at that statement, shrugging to each other as he bolted off.

William panted heavily, not used to the exercise.

He cursed his decision to run to the Rich manor, and stood gratefully in the shade of the awning protecting their opulent front doors. A small part of William was actually looking forward to the oncoming rain, as the cool water would at least help with the summer heat.

He gave himself a little bit to catch his breath before straightening his clothes and tidying his hair with his fingers. William cleared his throat self-consciously before knocking heartily at the door, a long silence following it.

He was prepared to knock again when he heard a shuffling within, and an old tan mare with a great deal of lines on her worn face pried open the door. A thinning flurry of pale cerulean and white mane sat atop her head, and she beamed down at William as she opened the door. Everything about her seemed… pristine, almost. Like she was the essence of sanitation, and lead by example.

“Ooh!” she smiled with a raspy voice. “Alloo, young colt! ‘Ere on business?”

William nodded silently, and was a little surprised when the aged mare turned around for a double take to get a better look at him. He felt as if he were being inspected and scrutinized, and suddenly felt even more conscious of every speck of dirt he may or may not have collected on his person.

Thankfully, she eventually turned away from him. William jumped when she shouted up the stairs.

“OI! FILTHY! THE HOOLIGAN IS BACK, EH?”

William could have sworn that he heard an almost inaudible sigh as the door was closed behind him, the aged mare tottering off with a broom in tow.

“Thank you, Missus Pots,” he heard the voice of Filthy Rich shortly before the tired looking stallion began descending the expansive stairs to the second floor. Filthy smiled cheerfully at the sight of William, nodding pleasantly toward the waiting boy.

“Ah, good morning, Mister Klaskovsky!” Filthy said as he stepped from the stairs. He nearly knocked over a small vase on the way, and as he drew closer, William could see that the stallion had bags under his eyes. However, he did not drop his formal attitude, and still managed to stand firmly enough to greet William properly.

“Thank you for allowing me in, Mister Rich,” William shook his hoof politely.

“What’s this about business?” the stallion asked, eyeing the boy closely.

“Actually,” William fiddled with his fingertips. “I actually stopped by to-to speak with Diamond.”

Filthy nodded with a silent and understanding ‘ahh’ before pointing up the stairs.

“Should’ve guessed,” he chuckled tiredly. “I’ve been trying to get her to go outside all morning. Best of luck to you,” Filthy shook his head before trotting slowly off to the left and through a large doorway, speaking with what William assumed were some of the servants in charge of tending to the house.

He stared after them for a while, curious as to precisely how wealthy Diamond Tiara’s family must have been to afford an array of staff, but shook his head. He could focus on that when he had more time.

William silently began to ascend the stairs, one hand on the finely polished mahogany banister as he climbed. On multiple occasions, he barely refrained from stopping and admiring the craftsmanship (craftsponyship?) on several small works of art that littered the place on ivory colored pedestals.

He was halfway down the hall, completely absorbed in the numerous paintings and portraits of what he assumed were ancestors of Filthy Rich before he realized that he hadn’t actually been given any directions as to how to find Diamond Tiara’s room.

He cursed his absentmindedness, the urge to punch himself in the head growing.

Instead, William started back toward the stairs – but changed his mind partway, curiously poking his nose into room after room instead.

Not a single one of the doors were locked, and each one held something different to stare at. Some rooms were filled only with ornate furniture, and others with more works of art – a couple were nearly empty, and some were clearly guest rooms. William grew a little more appreciative of everything to see the further into the house he traveled, and almost forgot the entire reason he came in the first place.

He reprimanded himself for the umpteenth time, no other sign of life around to point him in the right direction. William was considering turning around when he encountered yet another flight of stairs, this one yawning upward just as the last one had done. With a quiet sigh, William consigned himself to more room searching.

Many of the upstairs rooms (and one restroom, he noted) were similar to those on the floor below; albeit, they tended to have much more opulent and grand bedrooms, and other rooms for which he could ascertain no purpose, although they too were lavishly decorated with the same Victorian style imitation artwork that belied high status.

William at last came across a room with a locked door, and he curiously jiggled the handle. All of the other doors had been unlocked – perhaps this one was Diamond Tiara’s.

He knocked a couple of times, listening intently at the door.

“Go away,” he heard the muffled voice of the filly, and he clenched his fist in success. “I’ve told you for the last time, you stupid old bag! I want to be left alone!”

Frowning at her rudeness, William slowly lowered his hand and crossed his arms.

“Very well,” William raised his voice ever so slightly. “As you wish, Miss Tiahh!”

William jumped in surprise, the door blasting open with the force.

“William!” Diamond Tiara breathed ecstatically, eyes as equally wide as his own. “Why didn’t anypony say something to me?”

“Good morning to you too as well, Miss Tiara,” William straightened his hair grumpily, frustrated at having been so easily frightened.

“Don’t bother, I’m fine,” the filly scowled suddenly, turning unexpectedly hostile. She pawed at the floor before her for a few seconds, tracing invisible circles before shaking her head. “… I’m sorry. I should be thanking you for being so nice as to check up on me.”

“Check up o – oh, yes!” William nodded furiously. “Of course, of course. Just-just checking on you,” he shifted uncomfortably, gazing up and down the empty hall.

“… You can come in, if you want,” Diamond Tiara spoke lowly, stepping to the side a little to allow him passage to her bedroom.

“Oh. Thank you kindly, Miss Tiara,” he nodded, clasping his hands together as the gears began turning more fluidly. “Actually, there is something that I’d like to speak with you about, if you don’t mind.”

“I… guess…” she mumbled, quietly closing and locking the door behind them.

“Good. Good,” he began pacing, breathing heavily through his nostrils before turning to face her. Diamond Tiara seated herself on her massive four poster bed, sitting stiffly on the large silk sheets. “I wanted to speak with you about Miss Spoon.”

The filly’s face became downcast once again, and she bitterly rubbed at her forehooves. William felt a surge of heavy guilt, and struggled to pushed it away. There was a chance that she might have a clue to offer that would either put him at ease or confirm his suspicions.

“… Yeah.” Tiara replied softly, staring at her hooves. She carefully pulled a pair of blue spectacles from beneath her bed, the same ones that he had seen her with before. She rolled them over in her hooves gently, simply staring at them. “Yeah, I kind of guessed. Everypony wants me to talk about her for some reason, now that she’s – she’s gone.”

“In all likelihood, due to the notion that you will find some form of solace in speaking about your grief,” William noted thoughtfully, carefully trying to ease the conversation in the direction that he wanted it to go. “And speaking of which, if I might bring up Miss Spoon’s parents…”

“Why?” Diamond Tiara cocked an eyebrow in mid confusion. “Yeah, so they miss Silver, too. Big whoop. Not as – not as much as me,” she finished softly, rolling the glasses over and over. William also noticed that she didn’t cry at all this time; which he was grateful for, but her strangely familiar stare still put him off. Like there was something wrong with her eyes.

“Be that as it may,” William finally said in a quiet tone, sitting on the bed when she patted the spot beside her. “I still have a few concerns that Miss Spoon’s parents might have known something – or, rather…” William caught himself, gripping his hands tightly. There was still the sense of caution, and it grew with his every word.

What if he said the wrong thing, and caused Diamond Tiara to begin crying again?

“What I mean to say is,” William started again before he could become completely flustered, his heart racing at the thought. “I think there might have been something about Miss Spoon that-that was, er… hidden…”

“… So. You figured it out that quickly, huh?” Diamond Tiara asked tonelessly, and William had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping. “I should have guessed that somepony would find out eventually.”

William tried to speak, but at this point, it was difficult to even think properly. The shock was simply overwhelming.

“It’s true,” Diamond Tiara sniffed, and held her head a little higher before clearing her throat. “Spoony and me were-were a thing.”

He almost collapsed in on himself, so great was his relief. For a bare moment, William had arrived at a completely different conclusion, and the idea frightened him.

Badly.

“I-I, um, well,” he spluttered, toying with his fingertips almost apologetically. “I-I-I, um… see.”

“Silver was close to me,” Tiara said quietly, looking back at the glasses. “She was my friend. I… I guess I can say that I loved her. She loved me. I could tell.”

William did not necessarily know how to respond, so he only remained silent beside her as she spoke. There was a sad tint in her voice, and William constantly expected her to begin weeping again; however, she did no such thing, only staring at the glasses that she held limply in her hooves.

“It hurts, that she’s gone…” Tiara whispered, her voice changing a little as a lump formed in her throat. She shook it away, and looked back to William with that same, off putting stare. It made him uncomfortable in a way that he couldn’t quite place. “Like the empty feeling that was there before Silver is back, except it hurts more now.”

It didn’t take long for William to completely abandon his attempts to pry information away from the filly about Silver Spoon’s parents. He was having enough difficulty keeping himself in check at her words.

After a moment, he kindly placed a hand on her hoof, stilling the twirling of the glasses.

“Just know that you aren’t alone, Miss Tiara,” William said softly, forcing a small smile.

“… I really like the idea of loyalty,” Diamond stated suddenly, a smile of her own starting up her face. “Did you really mean it before, William? You’ll stay with me?”

“Of course I will,” he assured her, conscious of her compliment of his loyalty.

“Spoony was always very loyal to me,” Diamond Tiara mumbled, picking up the glasses more firmly. “And I f-felt… things. For her, I mean,” she spoke a little more quickly, but more evenly as well. “She was… put these on.”

William blinked, completely thrown off by her unexpected request.

“… Sorry, what?”

“Put them on,” Diamond Tiara insisted a little more forcefully, softly pressing the glasses into his hands. “I want you to wear them for me.”

William balked at her, both confused and deeply disturbed.

They were Silver Spoon’s glasses.

And she wanted him to wear them.

Diamond Tiara slowly closed his hand around them, her brilliant blue eyes never leaving his own. William clenched his hand to grip them, so tightly that he was afraid that either they would break or that they would begin cutting into him.

And, ever so slowly, William carefully put on the glasses.

For a long and uncomfortably silent minute, Diamond Tiara simply sat and stared at him.

William felt horribly silly, sitting before her in the dead filly’s glasses – they were too large for him, and he continuously had to push them up on his nose. The glasses also distorted his vision, and made everything look strange and alien through his field of vision. He wanted to yank them off… but what if Diamond Tiara wound up the same way as Silver Spoon simply because he didn’t want to look silly?

Bit by bit, Diamond Tiara slipped one hoof around William’s slim waist, another sliding over his shoulder.

“Miss Tiara-” he sputtered, a vibrant crimson flush burning his cheeks. William was cut off when Diamond Tiara pulled his head in for a kiss, mashing her lips heatedly against his own. He felt the glasses slipping a little bit at a time, until they had fallen to the floor. When Tiara pulled away from him, he saw that she was as equally bright-cheeked as he was, although she sported a wickedly large grin.

“There,” she said breathlessly. “It’s about time I gave you a proper kiss.”

“I need to go,” William started to stand, his ears red-hot and one cheek twitching.

“Sit!”

William complied promptly at her barked command, and he stayed shakily on the edge of the bed before clasping his trembling hands tightly before him. Diamond Tiara was breathing a little bit heavier now, and she looked down at the glasses that had fallen to the floor.

“Trying to run off when you told me you wouldn’t,” she tutted, giving him that odd stare again. “That’s awfully bad, William.”

When he didn’t answer, she looked back down at the blue glasses.

“Pick them up for me.”

He complied, and wordlessly handed them to the filly. She carefully placed them beside her and dug in the wooden drawers beside her bed, and withdrew with something else.

“I guess it’s about time I gave you a proper lesson, as well…” Tiara breathed in his ear, and bit her lip before leisurely revealing what she had hidden from him.

Where on earth had she gotten that…?

“Hold them out,” Diamond Tiara nodded at his hands, clutching the riding crop in her hooves. He stared at the length of black leather, feeling as if his mind had shut down altogether. She pushed the glasses back at him with her other hoof, expectantly waiting for him to put them back on.

So, which was she expecting? Did she want him to hold out his hands, or put on Silver Spoon’s glasses?

William opted to grab the glasses to avoid the riding crop, and for good reason.

The moment he reached for the glasses, Diamond Tiara struck him.

William yelped in pain, holding his sore hand defensively beneath his armpit.

“What was that f-” he tried to scowl, only to be cut off by the filly again.

“Put them on,” Diamond Tiara interrupted without raising her voice, somehow managing to still sound just as dangerous. She nodded at the glasses, and William paused before cautiously extending a hand toward the glasses. His heart pounded in his ears, and he jerked his hand away the moment he grabbed them – however, Diamond Tiara made no move to strike him again, and he blushed slightly from the embarrassment of showing that he was afraid of being smacked.

“Put them on for me,” she whispered again, leaning forward until they were closer together. His already mighty blush deepening , William silently complied and placed the glasses back on his nose, his vision warped once again.

“Good,” Diamond Tiara hummed appreciatively. “There’s a good boy. Now, hold out your hooves.”

“Hands,” William couldn’t help but say, instantly regretting it when the riding crop came down hard on his leg.

It stung painfully through his pants, and he resisted the intense urge to jump up and flee.

“Stop doing that!” William jerked away, the oddly shaped form of Diamond Tiara billowing through the glasses after him. “I-I, it…!”

“Does it hurt?” Diamond murmured, and he stared at her.

“Of course it does!” he retorted angrily. “It’s a damned riding crop! Where did you even –”

“Then hold them out,” she nodded toward his hands again, gaining a better grip on the crop.

William hesitated, fearful of being struck again.

“Just hold them out. Hold them out for me,” Diamond repeated herself quietly. Cautiously, shaking, and painfully slowly, William gradually extended his hands out with his fingers clamped tightly in his hands to protect them. Diamond Tiara could see how badly he was shaking, and his blush returned when she grinned at him.

Diamond Tiara lifted the crop in one hoof, levitating it dangerously over one of his hands. William flinched, squeezing his eyes the moment she swung.

Pap.

She gently slapped him with the crop, and William jerked again the moment she did so.

Diamond Tiara giggled suddenly at his fear, and William resisted the urge to hide his face. For some reason, the glasses had begun to mysteriously fog. She patted his hands again with the crop, and he struggled to keep them still for her – at least, before it occurred to him that even considering doing so was beyond mad, it was utterly deranged. She was toying with him.

“You have to keep them still.”

He hissed sharply through his teeth when the crop came down hard across his knuckles, and he winced in pain. He twitched and flinched, but held his hands out for as long as he could regardless. It followed in such manners – Diamond Tiara would slap him softly with the riding crop here and there, making him jolt with the occasional hard smack. He was badly sweating before long, which made him itch horribly but still left him too fearful to scratch.

William’s hands were welted and sore by the time she finally stopped, and the glasses were badly fogged because he couldn’t help the hot tears from stinging almost as badly as his hands did.

“You did really good,” Diamond Tiara whispered softly in his ear as she carefully removed the glasses, but he could see her no more clearly than he could before. “Not as good as Spoony, but really good. I like that,” she kissed his cheek, wiping away some of the tears with her hoof.

William tried to speak, and bolted upright when the knock at Diamond Tiara’s door thumped loudly through the room.

“Diamond?” he heard the sound of Filthy Rich’s voice, which helped drag him back to reality. “Do you have the Klaskovsky colt with you in there? Why is the door locked?”

“Lie,” she said in a hushed voice, putting a single hoof beneath his chin and forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Unlock the door and lie for me, William.”

He wasn’t quite certain what possessed him to do it.

“Y-yes M-Mister Rich,” William croaked, rapidly wiping his eyes with his shirt before opening the heavy oak door, even though it hurt his hands. “We were –”

He struggled to speak, his throat feeling raw. Diamond Tiara’s eyes never left him, and he fought against himself continuously.

“I was merely consoling Miss Tiara,” William lied, standing with his hands carefully placed behind his back as he stood before her father. “There has been… some level of distress that I – that-that I-”

William found himself choking up suddenly, and he could almost feel Diamond Tiara’s eyes on the back of his head.

“Oh, no,” Filthy Rich laid a hoof on his shoulder kindly. “I understand, son. I understand.”

William’s heart swelled unexpectedly, and the sudden urge to cry stung him again.

“I suppose that she was your friend, too, wasn’t she?”

William wanted to scream in that moment. The frustration building so much that his head hurt, his cheeks burned so much that he might as well have been on fire, and Mister Rich didn’t really understand at all. He wanted to fight it, wanted to shout, wanted to shove his hands in her father’s face and make him understand.

Instead, William silently held himself in check and forced his breathing to slow. Since he doubted that he could even speak without his voice cracking again, William nodded furiously.

“Missus Pots just wanted everypony to know that she has lunch finished,” Filthy informed them both. “I thought I’d take the liberty of making lunch call myself today. Would you care to join us today, Mister Klaskovsky?” he asked the boy politely, to which William instantly declined.

“I-I have… I have to be somewhere,” William lied again, feeling as if his falsehood was painfully easy to see through. It was almost like Mister Rich were looking right into him, like he couldn’t even hide anything. It instantly became even more difficult to hide his facial expressions, and William faked a violent sneezing fit to turn away and hide his face for long enough to regain control.

“Bless you. It’s quite alright, son,” Filthy nodded to him, and Diamond Tiara marched with her tail swinging tauntingly back and forth as she passed directly by William. “Do you need somepony to show you to the door?”

Filthy honestly didn’t mean it as condescendingly as it sounded; it was a fairly large mansion.

“I can show myself out, thank you,” William replied curtly, stalking quickly past the stallion and making his way out as quickly as he could without running.

By the time he reached the first floor, though, he had already broken into a sprint.

“Hey, there ya are!”

William twitched at the sound of Scootaloo’s voice, although he did allow himself a small, relieved smile when he saw her skidding to a stop beside him on a shining scooter.

“H-hello, Miss Scootaloo,” William was wary to keep his hands firmly in his pockets, and cleared his throat as he continued to walk. The pegasus tilted her head and hopped off of the scooter, opting to walk beside him instead as he slowly made his way home.

“I wish Sweetie would have told me sooner you were gonna go talk to Diamond Tiara about something,” she rambled, for which William was thankful. So long as she didn’t ask too many questions, and he could just go home without incident. “I totally would have come with you! We could have gotten there super fast, too – like it?” she showed him the bright blue scooter with red painted wheels.

“Oh, yes,” he nodded distractedly. “It’s very nice, Miss Scootaloo.”

She stopped for a beat, darting ahead to catch back up with him.

“… Okay,” she rolled her eyes lazily. “What is it.”

It wasn’t so much of a question as it was a statement.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” William said with his eyes locked straightforward, his back stiff as he walked.

Scootaloo snorted, ruffling her wings.

“Has anypony told you that you can’t lie for minotaur manure?” Scootaloo grinned, pushing him playfully. He flinched when she did so, and she frowned at his actions.

“Sorry,” he replied gruffly, keeping his head down as he tried to walk away from her.

“Sorry?” she stopped him, the scooter rolling to a halt beside her. “… Y’know, Will, you-you don’t look so good,” Scootaloo said with a hint of concern. He was paler than usual, like the color had been sucked from his face.

However, the moment she said it, he began flushing brightly and he sputtered something incomprehensible.

“Calm – calm down,” Scootaloo held him roughly by the shoulders, forcing him to take a breath. “Just take a second, Will. Take a second, calm down. Then tell me what’s eatin’ ya.”

She was a little weirded out by the strange look he was giving her, but she promptly forgot about it a split second later when he hugged her strongly.

“Oof!” she stumbled in surprise, her grin reappearing with renewed strength. “Uh… ‘kay,” she hugged him back, both confused and glad simultaneously.

He pulled away a moment later, a dark expression on his face.

“Miss Scootaloo,” he said dangerously. “Don’t die. Don’t you ever, ever die.”

And with that, William left her in even greater confusion than before.

She scratched her head and watched the boy jog off, his hands jammed into his pockets oddly as he ran.

“Only if you promise you won’t!” she shouted after him, to which he turned slightly and nodded before sprinting even faster.

He was a weird one, to be sure.

But she’d be damned if he didn’t make her smile sometimes.

“Let me see.”

William stood in his room with his hands clasped behind his back, shuffling fitfully. Rainbow Dash quietly closed the door behind her, never taking her eyes off of him.

“Come on, Will,” Dash said softly, but sternly. “I know you’re hiding something.”

When he still didn’t show her what he had been attempting to sneak off to his room for, Rainbow Dash sighed heavily and sat down before him.

“… Will.” She said firmly, giving him a level look. “If it’s something you’re afraid to show me or something that you’re embarrassed about, I promise not to tell Pinkie unless you want me to. It’ll just be between you and me. Just between us, okay?”

After a couple of restless minutes in which neither of them said anything, William slowly and silently showed Rainbow Dash his welted hands.

She frowned, furrowing her brows. Dash stared at his hands for a long while, wordlessly inspecting them.

“… You gonna tell me how you got marks from a riding crop, Will?” Rainbow Dash asked softly, turning his hands over gently in her hooves.

He cringed, and said nothing.

She exhaled with a tortuously long sigh through her nostrils, tenderly placing her wings on his shoulders.

“William,” Dash said quietly, holding his hands up a little. “Please tell me how you got marks from a riding crop, William.”

“How do you know what kind of marks they are?” he tried to deflect it, and her flat stare met him.

“I just know what leaves what kind of mark or bruise, and that’s all you need to know,” Rainbow Dash replied, simply holding him for a while. He refused to speak, and she could see the futility in trying to coerce him into it.

“… Here.” She lifted his hands with her hooves up to her lips, blowing gently over the angry red welts. He winced when her lips softly touched them, brushing lowly over each mark.

“Um… Mother-”

“If you won’t tell me,” she said, opening her mouth wide and panting on the marks before kissing them softly. “I’ll just have to… kiss it and… make it… make it better…”

Dash’s hot tongue fell over his hands, her breathing falling harder and faster in her panting. William whimpered quietly, the stinging growing unbearable – however, perhaps either the heat or the moisture might have helped.

Rainbow Dash tenderly licked her way up his slender arm, working her way up to his neck and leaving a trail of calm, but needing kisses up his cheek. He gasped aloud when her hot tongue slithered over his ear, flicking over his earlobe wetly.

“M-Mother.”

Rainbow Dash recoiled suddenly, coughing into her hoof as William resisted the urge to scrub his ear with his forearm.

“Right, right,” Dash said with a pink tinge growing in her cheeks. “Well. We’ll – we’ll get something for-for that, and-” she ran a hoof over her face a few times, rubbing her cheeks. “-and, just… you know. Um, dinner is ready, Master. William!” she blurted quickly. “William. William. William. Pinkie made us some desert.”

She spoke as if she were in a haze, and repeatedly shook herself with a half guilty, half wild look on her face.

“Yes, Mother,” William answered quietly. “I shall… be along shortly.”

Journal of William Zachariah Klaskovsky

Day 25 –

It has finally happened.

I have been completely broken.

I do not know how, or really even when it occurred – at some point or another, I devolved into this sniveling, obedient troglodyte without my knowledge. My self-loathing knows no bounds.

I believe that I began the day with intent to discover more about Miss Spoon’s parents. Perhaps they knew something about her suicide (which I am still claiming as such until other evidence is produced) and have not come forward with the information. It reeks of guilty conscience to me.

I doubt that I can keep Silver Spoon properly on my mind, since…

Miss Tiara and Miss Spoon appear to have had some form of… extremely close relationship with one another. I find it appalling that the Tiara brat would even insinuate that another could take her place, especially so rapidly, but I now realize that this may be a form of coping. Regardless, I sincerely hope Miss Tiara finds another method of coping soon.

I don’t like her current one.

Moving on.

I do not think that Mother has made any kind of ‘recovery’ that Miss Pie speaks so highly of. She does not seem in any way changed or altered to me.

I will admit that I am slightly fearful of Mother changing, if only because I do not care for change. However, it is clear that her actions and words disturb Pinkie Pie, and I do not wish to see her upset, either.

Speaking of Miss Pie…

I believe that she may be suffering from some form of ailment as well, although for the life of me I cannot identify it. I spent a good portion of my morning delving through previous records in search of any form of comparison, but appear to have wasted my time. I am afraid that if I do not help her soon, her mood swings are going to result in something unpleasant.

I wonder if her own symptoms are anything akin to Mother’s.

Just in case, I shall begin making extra room in my bed.

And on that note, I badly require rest. I shall need it for the following day, as I expect to spend the day with Scoots and the others, followed by Miss Twilight’s astronomy lessons should the rain have passed by in time. I only hope that I can sleep without interruption tonight. I dare say that I do not look forward to any form of dreams which involve Scootaloo.

Again, the pegasus is lurking in my thoughts. If I am not careful, people ponies are going to begin to suspect that I have some kind of infatuation with the girl.

An utterly ridiculous notion.

I mean, it isn’t as if I lay awake at night, thinking about her.