Rookwood stood in a small but comfortable apartment. Thankfully, it wasn’t the dungeon. Or the moon, he reflected. There was a bed, a small study with a desk, a bathroom, and a closet. It was much nicer than his bedroom at home.

He plopped himself down in a chair and sat back, feeling rather miserable. He had his cutie mark. He was now living in a castle. He was about to be a father. He didn’t know why he was miserable, but he was. He was going to have to write to his parents and try to explain why he wasn’t coming home.

A clock on the wall ticked. It was past midnight. He rose from his chair and resumed pacing.

Back and forth through the room he went, pacing. It was a nervous habit that he had acquired when he was young. He stared at the clock. It was a quarter to one. He had magic now, Luna had mentioned that. She suspected shadow magic. Rookwood had no idea how to make it manifest though. His hooves tapped on the floor as he paced in a line.

There was a soft rapping on the door. He froze. He stared at the door.

“May I come in?”

The voice belonged to Celestia. She was here to do him in.

“I thought I heard you pacing as I passed.”

Rookwood said nothing.

The door clicked, opening slowly. Celestia stuck her head in.

“Might I come in?” Celestia asked. She looked tired. Her eyes were red.

Rookwood nodded. He certainly couldn’t stop her.

“We have something in common.” Celestia said, her face blank and difficult to read. “It seems we both pace.”

Rookwood nodded again.

Celestia was in the room now. Rookwood waited. For something. Anything. He just wished it would be over with. He felt like he was about to piss himself, right here before Celestia.

“I wanted to offer an apology.” Celestia said. “I may not have been my usual self this day.”

Rookwood stood there, dumbfounded.

“You must understand, I love my sister a great deal. The news, this situation, it has left me somewhat confused and befuddled. I was angry. And I may have taken it out on you inappropriately.”

Celestia stood there, waiting for some kind of reply. Which did not come.

“As I have stated, I am sorry. I will leave you in peace. Try to get some sleep. You are expected at breakfast tomorrow. A guard will be sent to wake you and collect you.” Celestia’s face was still an unreadable mask as she retreated out the door. It closed with a click.

Rookwood rushed to the bathroom to relieve himself, thankful that he had not pissed himself right there in front of the princess. He straddled the toilet bowl, releasing a flood of stress hormone filled urine that filled the bathroom with a terrible stench.

He flushed and fled the small room.

He laid down in bed, exhausted, scared, tense. He needed some sort of relief, but he was too tired to clop himself to sleep. He stared at the ceiling, the room now dark, worried that sleep would not find him.

He should have been more worried about what would happen when it did.

Rookwood drifted through a starry sky. He had wings. They were made of smoke it seemed. He flapped them. He could see through them. Almost. If he squinted the right way. He didn’t seem to need them to fly. He just sort of drifted though wherever he was.

In the distance, on the horizon, he saw the moon. He began to drift towards that. Above him, stars twinkled. Below him, there were clouds. He flapped his smoky wings a few times, picking up speed. The air was cold.

He angled upwards, towards the moon, delighting in the sensation of flight. Below him, the clouds began to swirl. He looked down, watching the swirling clouds. Lightning crackled in the black writhing mass.

He flapped harder, wanting to gain elevation.

The moon seemed close now. Below him, the storm raged.

He was quite alarmed when he looked down and saw a wispy face swirling in the clouds. It gazed at him with hate filled turquoise eyes. He could hear booming laughter. Horrible hideous laughter. It was just as much inside of his head as it was outside of his head. It felt like something striking at the inside of his skull, a sharp painful repeating blow.

“You show promise.” A voice boomed. It crackled within the thunder.

Rookwood continued to try and fly away. A shadowy tendril shot up from below. It wrapped around one of his hind legs, causing exquisite agony. He suddenly felt weaker, it was a struggle to draw breath.

“Ah, yes, after all this time, life…” The voice was pure madness inside of his head. It ached. “You’re not the alicorn body that I crave, but you have so much raw potential. You will have to do.”

The tendril continued to writhe around his leg, climbing upwards. The seeking tip brushed up against his testicles, causing searing pain, as though his balls had just been shoved into a bed of white hot coals.

Rookwood screamed, struggling to get away from the tendril and the terrible black clouds below him. It had a good hold on him though, gaining a better hold with each passing moment.

“Life…” the voice rumbled, “virility. I was not aware that males possessed so much essence.”

Rookwood’s screams were now only audible to bats and other animals that heard noises in the ultrasonic frequency. His precious balls were being pulled from his torso, he just knew it. He could feel the tearing tug. His lungs ignited with flames. He could feel a tight tearing yank just below his plothole, in his taint.

“Do not resist me, allow me to feed a little longer. I need to restore my strength.” The voice bellowed. “I will not destroy you or what you hold so dear, down there between your useless little legs. But I need life!”

Rookwood’s body fell apart, turning into a cloud of shadowy smoke. His consciousness drifted. Inspite of the voice’s promises that he would not be destroyed, Rookwood knew he was dying. His body was gone. And now he began to drift through night.

Rookwood was shaken awake. A large bat winged guard was shaking him violently. Rookwood was still screaming. He had a body. And he was drawing breath. His balls were still somewhere, sitting on a bed of coals however, so he continued screaming, a keening wail of the damned. As long as his balls were burning, secured somewhere, perhaps in the middle of the sun, he was prepared to scream for all eternity. Every second was a thousand years on the moon, his balls on fire, hidden in the sun.

A hoof slapped him so hard that he felt his eyeballs slosh back and forth in their sockets.

He saw Luna, her hoof still raised.

He cringed, not wanting another slap, his breath caught in his throat. The fire in his balls now gone, though the pain continued to linger.

“Do I need to slap you again?” Luna said, her hoof still raised, ready, and her expression she was more than willing.

Rookwood shook his head no.

“What happened? We felt a disturbance, all of us attuned to shadow. When we entered, you were in shadow form above your bed. I had to pull you out.” Luna looked concerned.

Rookwood drew in his breaths in ragged bursts.

“Do you need another slap to focus?” Luna said, raising an eyebrow.

Rookwood shook his head no. He didn’t want the distinct sensation of his eyeballs sloshing in their sockets ever again. His head was still ringing from the last slap.

“I had a bad dream.” Rookwood heaved.

“More than that I’d say.” The bat winged guard commented.

“Why did you slap me so hard?” Rookwood said, nearly crying.

Luna and the guard both began to chuckle slightly. “That was a gentle tap.” Luna said, now smiling faintly. “I had to wake you. Now tell me about your dream or I will slap you for disobedience, and this time, I will not be gentle.”

Rookwood whimpered.

“It was dark. I… I… I was in the sky or something. I had wings made out of smoke. I was flying. I have lots of dreams about flying. The clouds turned into a storm or something. I heard a voice. It laughed at me. Something in the cloud grabbed me, the same smoky stuff my wings were made out of. It wrapped around my legs. Said it needed my life. And then my balls were on fire.” Rookwood said.

Luna looked concerned, scowling. She then vanished, simply gone, all that was left was a cloud of smoke. The smoke began to move towards Rookwood, seeking out his ear. He wiggled and squirmed, but he was held in place by the bat winged guard.

He felt a tickle in his ear and then suddenly, he was no longer alone in his own mind. He was distinctly aware of Luna being in there. Somehow, he knew. He could hear her thoughts.

Get out! Right now! He thought, as hard as he could.

Ouch! Luna’s thoughts echoed through his brain painfully. You can feel me? Sense me? And you can talk to me while I am in here? You can hear my thoughts?

Yes. Now GET OUT! Rookwood shrieked internally.

Argh! Damn you! Be gentle, or I shall slap you from inside of your own head Luna warned.

Rookwood silenced his mind, fearing that Luna would make good on her threat. The slap from the outside had hurt. From the inside, who knows what harm might befall him. He could feel her poking around in his mind. Prying. Pulling. Looking through everything.

What are you doing He demanded.

Seeing what you saw. ‘Tis most interesting. Luna replied.

So you can see my thoughts?

There was no reply.

Rookwood resented this intrusion. He began to pull up the few torrid images that remained of the dream, including the aftermath when he was awake, blowing his load in his bed.

He felt an odd sense of arousal that was not his own. Something feminine. It sparked his own arousal. A tiny fire ignited deep within his brain.

Something thudded into the inside of his head, right behind his eyeballs, nearly causing them to squirt from their sockets and be ejected from his skull. He cried out and whimpered from the agonising pain. It somehow hurt even more from the inside. He could actually hear the hoof impact somewhere in between his ears.

Stop being clever Luna’s thoughts demanded. Distract me like that again and incur my wrath.

Luna exited from his head, trickling out of his ear. She stood looking at him, her cheeks flushed, her dark blue pelt now a dark ruddy purple.

“You are full of surprises.” Luna stated. “And my nemesis as well. Which does not bode well for either of us.”

Rookwood waited for her to explain. She didn’t

“Nemesis?” He asked.

“Remnants of Nightmare Moon, whom I once was. She exists in dreams now, plaguing my subjects with nightmares. Except for you.” Luna said. “She wants you. And given your odd abilities, I can see why. I would want you too.”

Luna paused, blushing even more. “I mean, from her perspective.” Luna corrected.

Rookwood simply nodded, not wanting another skull thudding slap. Those hurt. And there had been two of them. He was not sure if he would survive a third. His skull hurt. The bone actually hurt.

Luna smiled. “I guess I am left with no choice but to kill you.” Luna sighed. She and her guard faded from reality. Rookwood was alone in his room. He ran to his door, trying to open it, but the door handle was gone completely. He kicked and thudded on the door, but it made no sound.

No no no no no… He drew in ragged painful panicked breaths, cold terror flooding his body.

Rookwood pondered his life. He was going to die a virgin, even though he had bagged a princess in his dreams. He had fathered exactly one foal, and would never father another one. There was no point in screaming he figured. Nopony would hear him anyway he suspected. All he could do now was wait for the end to come. He doubted he would be going to breakfast in the morning.

He sank down to the floor and began to weep.

Many hours later, how long he could not tell, because his window had gone missing as well, he heard hoofsteps outside his door.

“Rookwood?”

It was Celestia’s voice.

“Help me!” Rookwood shouted.

“I am terribly sorry for the fate that must befall you.” Celestia’s voice was filled with genuine regret. “It is for everypony’s benefit, including your own, that this fate must befall you.”

“No! No! No!” Rookwood demanded, hammering away on the door.

“Such a pity. One so young and full of promise. There is nothing I can do for you.” Celestia said.

Rookwood heard hoofsteps as she began to walk away from his door.

He lay on the floor, feeling too pathetic to even attempt one last clopjob. He collapsed into sobs.

Author's Notes:

Wait for it...