Rookwood lay in his bed. It had come to this. He wasn’t going to graduate school. He wasn’t going to have a life. Not that he had much of a life to begin with. He was practically invisible in school. He didn’t belong to any clubs, he barely had any friends, just another group of losers that he played games with and sometimes hung out with. All of them were socially inept, just like he was. It was fun playing Grottos and Goblins though. Enough fun that it was worth tolerating them. Almost.

He had been here for what felt like hours. He was exhausted, but didn’t want to sleep. Not his last few hours. He had tried to clop a few times, but couldn’t get himself past half mast. The fear wracking his body was awful, his head hurt after having been slapped outside and inside. And now, he couldn’t even wank.

He resigned himself not to sob, just like all of the other times he had resigned himself not to sob over the past few hours. The waiting was the worst. He wished they would just get it over with. Why wait? Where they building a scaffold? Was he to be hung? Beheaded? Drawn and quartered? Fed to rabid griffons?

He rose up off the bed and went over to the door, banging on it halfheartedly. There would be no answer, just like the last few times he had tried it. He continued rapping.

Nope, nothing. He returned to the bed.

At some point, he must have dozed. He awoke, hearing something outside his door. Guttural grunting. Somepony laughing. Laughing! He certainly had a different view of the monarchy now.

He rolled out of bed, onto his hooves, not intending to go quietly.

The door open, and he charged. He ran as fast as he could, as fast as his weak legs would allow in the small room, his head lowered, his horn forward. His horn was sensitive, but he was a dead pony anyway.

A hoof clipped him in the head and sent him sprawling back to the bed, colliding painfully with the wall. He saw four, no wait, ten to twelve bat winged pegasi in his room with him. He tried to rise, but could not. His legs failed to respond to any mental commands.

Rookwood went quietly, being dragged down the hall, a rope tied around his four hooves, being drug along the floor. He didn’t bother kicking or struggling. There was no point. He had thought about killing himself before, he had thought about it a number of times in fact. So this was probably the best end he could hope for. He had been too much of a coward to actually go through with it the last time he attempted it.

He felt cool night air and opened his eyes. He saw the moon. He shivered. He couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or seeing the moon, or just knowing that he was going to die. There was snow on the ground. He choked back tears.

No, not now. Not here. Not when the end was so close.

He was drug before a corridor of bat winged guards, all standing still as statues, unmoving, not shivering, none of them looking down at him as he was pulled along. He heard voices ahead. Familiar voices. He opened his mouth to protest, but his tongue would not work. It flailed and squirmed in his mouth, unwilling to submit to his control.

Now, he could not even protest his treatment or curse his killers.

He looked up and saw Celestia.

“I stopped by your door once my sister told me what happened. I tried to talk to you. I tried to console you, but you did not respond. I guess you must have been asleep.” Celestia looked sad.

“Are you sure this course of action is wise Luna?” Celestia said, looking heartbroken.

Luna nodded, and gazed downward at Rookwood. There was a faint teasing look hidden in her face. Her mouth was almost smirking. Her eyes focused on him, almost looking like she was mocking him. And still, his tongue would not work.

And he suddenly understood why. Luna’s horn was glowing.

Rookwood tried to scream. Something seemed off.

He kicked and squirmed, to no avail.

“I suppose this will be what is best for him in the long run.” Celestia said, turning her gaze away from Luna, looking sorrowful.

“This is the only course of action my sister.” Luna said, her voice a flat careful monotone.

Confusion flooded through Rookwood. Celestia hadn’t heard him through the door. Something didn’t seem right. Nothing felt right. The cold snow made him shiver. He felt himself hoisted into the air and dropped upon a large stone table. It was cold. The ropes were gone, but he could not move. He was bound with magic, helpless, unable to stop what was happening.

Luna stood on the table with him, but she had changed. She looked darker. Shadowy. Her lips pulled back, revealing long fangs. “Alas poor Rookwood, such a regrettable fate.” Luna said, gazing down at him. Her head lowered, her face now near his. “And now, I must end you.”

Luna’s head snapped forward suddenly, her sharp teeth clamping down upon his windpipe. He felt her fangs break the skin. Cold, real cold, seeped into his body through her fangs. His legs kicked to life with cold fire. He could feel a heart beating in between his ears. He began to sprout an erection, rising slightly out of his sheath, before he felt himself retract and pulling back in, the cold spreading through his lower abdomen.

He tried to scream and could not.

He felt his own heartbeat slowing down now. He could no longer feel his frogs, or his fetlocks.

“It will be over soon.” Luna whispered. She lay down beside him, pressing her body up close to his, wrapping a wing over his barrel, pulling him close, he could feel her warmth, but only briefly, and then he couldn’t feel her at all. He couldn’t feel her rub her cheek against his neck. He didn’t see her now sad expression.

He couldn’t see at all.

“Almost over.” Luna said, her voice now far away.

He could still feel the four ragged holes in his throat. He felt precious air whistling in and out of them, causing the dangling bits of skin and flesh to flap and dangle in the breeze.

His heart had slowed greatly. It thumped once every few seconds now. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Thump. He counted again, trying to force his brain to keep working. This time, he counted to eleven.

“Hush now, quiet now, time to rest your sleepy head… Hush now, quiet now, it is time to go to bed.” Luna’s lullaby seemed distant, far away, he could barely hear anything at all now. “Just a moment or two more, father of my foal.”

Rookwood felt his heart beat for the last time. It thudded halfheartedly, and then stopped with an aching sense of finality. He lay there, completely paralysed, his chest feeling empty and still. There was nothing inside of it. He did not draw breath. He was blind.

He existed on the edge of the void.

For a moment, everything was blackness.

Thump.

There was a dull aching thud in his chest.

Thump. The void was still close. It wouldn’t take much to shove him over and send him in. He was more dead than alive at this point. He felt an odd warmth on his skin. Like being in the sun.

Thump.

Pain wracked his body. Terrible pain. He feared for his sanity. His mind couldn’t handle what he was feeling. It was like the summer that he had almost drowned, when he had ran out of air underwater, and had tried to breathe against his own will, drawing water into his lungs.

Thump thump.

There were painful pinpricks of white light in his vision now. He existed in a new universe, one where the primary element was not hydrogen, but agony. His body was constructed from his new element. He wanted to scream so badly, but nothing happened.

Something whacked him hard on his barrel. “Breathe damn you! Don’t tell me you forgot how to do that during the short time you were dead!” There was another bone rattling thump.

He sucked in one ragged breath, creating new stars in his vision. The holes in his throat were gone. His heart thudded painfully in his chest now, frantic, like a caged animal trying to escape.

He could feel Luna’s body against him, or so he thought. He couldn’t be certain.

Something warmed his skin. He opened his eyes, the world was strangely well lit. The night sky was filled with a soft silvery glow, a gentle soothing light. He could see every naked tree branch outlined against the black sky.

He took another ragged breath. And then another.

Life flooded back into him. He could feel the cold stone of the table. His tongue wiggled in his mouth. His nostrils flared. He twitched his ears. He celebrated the delightful feeling of drawing breath. He heard weeping. It wasn’t from Luna, so he concluded it must be Celestia.

“Why am I alive?” He gasped.

He saw Luna’s face inches above his own, looking down upon him, her eyes wide with wonder, watching him, studying him intently. She was standing over him now. She seemed to be taking in every detail of his experience. His blood was still on her lips, her fangs still pink. And shrinking. They weren’t as long as they had been.

“You are alive because I willed it.” Luna said, her starry mane whipping about. Rookwood thought he must be hallucinating. He could see the things that caused her mane to whip around. Silver streaks, motes, slivers of silver light zigzagged through the air, colliding with her mane, causing it to wave and waft to and fro. The air was filled with those silver motes. One collided with his horn, causing his entire body to jerk painfully. As his body sprang back to life, he was filled again with a powerful sense of arousal. He felt something wiggling down on his belly. Another mote collided with his horn. Something bulged from his sheath.

He had needs. An almost mindless need. His forelegs shot upwards, catching Luna by surprise. He pulled her head down and tried to kiss her, banging his snout into her muzzle, causing both of their lips to be crushed between their teeth. He tasted blood. His legs pulled tighter. He drew his tongue over Luna’s lips, licking away blood, feeling an odd electric tingle from her flesh. For a moment, her own tongue flicked out from between her lips, touching his only briefly. Her legs trembled and she lost her balance on the slippery table, her legs splaying outward. The brief tongue contact had made him quite hard. Not fully erect, but enough that he could feel the cool air on his fevered shaft.

Luna landed upon him a moment later. He could feel the warmth of her belly, her smooth flawless flesh, tight, taught, and supple, all of it pressing down upon him. He still had his legs around her neck. She wriggled and writhed in his grip, not using her strength, trying not to hurt him.

Her squirming body rubbed against him the wrong way and he exploded, bucking his hips upward, driving himself into the soft flesh of her belly. He fell back and went limp.

“You just cannot help yourself, can you, you just keep taking liberties with my sister’s body!” A voice shouted, seething with rage.

He lay there, now limp, still spurting seed against Luna’s belly. She lay there, in shock, her mouth open in a wide “O” of horror.

Rookwood felt her hips grind downwards once, rubbing against him, before she rose up, regaining her hooves, his seed dribbling from the velvet coat of her belly.

“I’m alive.” Rookwood gasped.

“Not for long!” A guard warned. There was an uncomfortable amount of heat in the air, and all of the snow was melting. Rookwood could hear dripping.

Rookwood no longer cared about dying. He’d already been dead. Plus, he had almost just had sex. It at least counted as a good dry humping at least. Whatever afterlife awaited, he could go, knowing that he had finally touched mare flesh with his now flaccid pecker.

He let go of Luna’s neck, causing his head to drop sharply and strike the table, knocking him out cold. He went under with a broad grin.

Rookwood’s head ached dully, throbbing in time to his heartbeat. He was clean, at least he felt clean, and he was in a bed. His own perhaps. He opened his eyes. The room was exceptionally well lit, one lamp on in the corner flooding the room with light.

“It took all of my skills in persuasion to keep my sister from murdering you.”

Rookwood sighed. He wasn’t dead. Time to face the music.

Wait, why face the music? Hadn’t Luna tried to murder him? What had just happened?

“What did you do to me?”

Rookwood felt his head lifted in the warm tingle of magic and a glass was pressed to his lips. It wasn’t water as he expected, but wine. Strong. He sputtered, and then drank greedily, something in his body now on fire.

The wine made his head feel dizzy.

“What did you do to me?” Rookwood repeated.

“Oh, I killed you.” Luna replied.

“Why am I here?” Rookwood asked.

“We all ask that question. Go take a philosophy class.” Luna said.

“Why did you grind your filly bits against me when you were getting up?” Rookwood said.

Luna didn’t reply for a long time. “Reflex I suppose.”

“I am still alive.” Rookwood stated.

“You are most observant.” Luna quipped. “Would you like a cookie?”

“Yes, actually.” Rookwood replied.

“Well, too bad. That was sarcasm.” Luna said.

“Look, stop playing games with me.” Rookwood said.

“Very well then.” Luna sighed. “I may have played a little prank you on when I told you that you were going to die. It was a half truth. My sister did not know of my ruse. I performed a ritual upon you that has fundamentally changed your nature. My sister knew of my intentions involving the ritual, but not that I had told you that you were dying. I had to keep you silent. She came by to console you, and I would imagine that you had yourself some tense moments, believing that she was dropping by to console you over what you believed was your coming death. You should be thankful, you have faced a terrible fear and have been made stronger for it.”

“Ah, well, thanks then.” Rookwood said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“You will no longer draw power from the sun. I have ripped away your solar nature. A creature with shadow magic cannot function under the power of the sun. You now have the night’s gift. Like I do, and like the lunar pegasi are born with. Your shadow magic will begin to manifest itself now, it will be much easier for you to summon it. And I intend to teach you.” Luna said.

Rookwood tensed, feeling a painful jolt.

“And that would be the sun dawning. Felt it, did you not? I saw your reaction. There is much we must discuss, but for now, we must be going to breakfast very soon. Celestia will be most upset if I am not there. Of course, she will be most upset if I bring you along, which is why I must do it. She’s been a trifle overbearing and treating me like a filly once again.” Luna frowned. “I am NOT a filly.”

Luna paused for several moments. “By the way.” She added. “If you ever do that again, you and I will have a fun trip to Gelding Grotto, father of my foal or no. Since I am already pregnant, it isn’t like I need you to have your colt bits to be a father.”

Rookwood gulped.

“And you are a lousy kisser. Turn your head to the side next time you nitwit.” Luna heaved a sigh. She gazed him, her eyes blinking a few times.

“I thought you said that if I did that again…” Rookwood’s voice trailed off.

Author's Notes:

Next comes the most awkward breakfast ever.