Author's Notes:

Quick word of warning: This chapter's the edgiest in the story so far. Have fun reading.

My hand rested on the doorknob for a small hesitant second before I finally nutted up and twisted it, opening the door and stepping inside. Whatever I was expecting, it was most certainly not what rested on the other side. My eyes widened in fear as I gazed upon the bruised and bloodied form of Mr. Blanca, the beaten stallion resting upon the table with a spilt wine glass at the far end of the room, before a voice cut through my stupification.

“Ah, so nice of you to join us, L.” I turned to find Q calmly sifting through the pages of a book as he sat in an armchair off to the side. I noticed there was a cloth damp with blood resting on the stand next to him, along with two glasses filled with questionable substances. I felt the hairs gracing my neck stand up on end.

“Go ahead, mi amigo,” he motioned to the seat across from him. “Sit, if you would be so kind.”

I cautiously approached, looking at Mr. Blanca in worry. I may not have known the guy for long, but it was through his kindness that I was able to rest my head, if only for a day. “Oh, worry not, Ladarion, mi papi is still alive.” I looked at Q, a grimace on my face. “Well, alive in the sense that he is still breathing, at least. Now, sit. We have some things to discuss.”

I sat down, looking intently at my "friend" as he continued reading. “What the hell did you do, Queseque?” I asked.

“What have I done? If I so wish, I can make all of this,” he gestured toward his semi-conscious father, “your doing.”

“Listen here you little-” he snapped the book shut, cutting me off.

“Would you like a drink, L? A drink between amigos?” he asked, placing it down on the stand.

“We ain’t amigos, Queseque,” I grit my teeth, trying to burn a hole through him with my eyes. “And don’t call me ‘L’ no more.”

Queseque grimaced, the pony breathing in deeply before speaking. “Well, I suppose that’s fair. However,” he reached for a wine glass filled to the brim with a red liquid, “I urge you to take a drink, Ladarion. Who knows, perhaps it will save your life.” He sipped at his own glass, letting out a wistful sigh. “They don’t make anything quite like this anymore. And for good reason, I would wager. Like the drink we shared yesternight, the Gharfield Groves’ Grip, I recall, this separates the stallions from the foals; unlike it, however, this is reserved for special occasions as opposed to silly shows of friendship.”

“And what ‘special occasion’ would this be?” I asked.

“Oh, just the day I became the head of La Casa Blanca, assuming the leadership role of the single most affluential family of the Savage South.”

“Well, good for you! You done tricked me into believing that this property would serve as a spot of safety long enough for my pursuers to catch up with me, rubbed elbows with the prince of an empire to expand your influence, and destabilized the town of Sauna Pai and possibly the entire region of this damned country when you ousted your daddy and openly condoned the illegal activities of a foreign entity on your soil. Where the hell is the Norwegian Nobel Committee, ‘cause you are most certainly in the running to be the next recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize!”

Queseque narrowed his eyes at me, which I found to be a very odd expression considering the fact that I had up until this meeting seen him smile nearly all the time. Nahive groaned from his spot on the table, and I broke eye contact with Queseque to look back at the poor bastard.

A moment of tense silence passed before I asked a question that had been plaguing me since the beginning of this meeting. “How many lies?”

Queseque regarded me in bemusement, his eyebrows knotted. “What?”

“How many lies have you told me since we’ve met, Queseque?” I repeated.

Queseque chewed on his cheek, leaning back into his chair as he breathed heavily out of his nose. “Too many.” To think such a simple response would hold with it so much regret.

I bit back the anger building up from being so easily fooled, grabbing the armrest of my seat so hard that my knuckles turned pink. “Yeah, I shoulda known.” The words tasted as bitter as they sounded. I tapped the armrest of my chair impatiently. “Since that’s outta the way, what did you mean when you said this,” I motioned to the wine in front of me, “would probably end up saving my life? And I want the truth, if it ain’t no bother.”

Queseque swirled the wine left in the glass, looking off to the side. “The truth? Fine. It’s the least I could offer you at the moment, I suppose.” Turning his gaze back to my eyes, he adopted a stare of stone. “The alcohol I gave to you during your first stay, it was poisoned.” I was at a loss for words, a snarl being my only response to such knowledge. I would have likely beaten Queseque within an inch of his life the same way I assumed he had Nahive if it weren’t for his next carefully chosen words. “As was mine.” Now came bewilderment.

“I saw something in you, Ladarion. Something I have not seen in any other in these accursed badlands. I could tell from the moment I first met you that we were similar, even if we bore no resemblance to one another. You hold within you a flame, something that keeps you alive; something that gives you a meaning, a purpose. Benevolent or no, I was uncertain, but I needed to make certain that my impression of you was not without born of some misguided naivete. Fortunately, I was correct in my presumptions, and you were indeed an oddity in a manner past exterior dissimilarities. This concoction, Ladarion? This concoction can only be imbibed by the Chosen.”

“And those who aren’t ‘Chosen’? What would happen to them if they were to down this stuff?”

“Their insides would slowly but surely liquidize in an agonizing, irremediable process. After a few days, all that would be left would be a husk depending on how concentrated the poison was.”

“Sounds pleasant as popping off my fingernails with a corkscrew.”

“It is much worse.”

“Now how do you know so much about this here poison? And just why would you poison me simply to confirm whether or not your idea of me wasn’t unjustified?”

“Let’s just say that I have a certain guardian angel whom I believe to be watching over me and leave it at that. On to your second question… well, I at first figured that you were more than meets the eye the moment I saw that… determination in your eyes. I just had to ensure the inferno I could feel wash over me was not some form of deception.” I gave the pony a withering glare that carried with it just how crazy and stupid I took that explanation to be.

Another moment of silence reigned before Queseque sighed. “This is not how it was meant to happen.” Queseque’s once steely expression held an inkling of sadness. “We were meant to be amigos, Ladarion, this I know, but circumstance has pitted us against one another. If only, if only you weren’t the transaction Prince Yahguul had been so eagerly speaking about. If only you had arrived a few months before, or perhaps a few months after this mess. If only I could have stalled for more time! Then none of this would be happening. You and I, Ladarion, we’d be family, inseparable.

Another sigh escaped him as he vented, me listening intently with furrowed brows. “But, as fate has it, none of that will really be possible with the way things transpired. You were the transaction that Yahguul so badly wanted; you arrived just in time for all of this… shit to sully you; and I was not able to stall for any longer once the kind boluk-bashi standing just outside that door brought news of your escape. My hoof was forced, Ladarion, do you understand this?”

I thought back to that little conversation I had with Hawkeye, telling her of how she could free me and there’d be no hard feelings, telling her of how I didn’t believe in the hands of fate forcing people to make decisions. Honestly, a good chunk of that was bullshit in my mind. Hell, I’d been forced to act out without thought many a time since I’d gotten here, and when things went south, I never blamed myself so much as I did forces completely out of my control. So I guess I’m a massive sodding hypocrite, then. What a world, huh? Welp, like I also said in that little argument, it’s best to just roll with things.

I wanted to bring up that same argument with Queseque, but my morality was fucked the moment I got here; I had no right to tell other people what was right and what was wrong when I personally got a depraved kick out of others’ suffering.

But that didn’t stop me from trying. “This was all set up a little too perfectly to be an accident, wouldn’t you say, Queseque?” The diminutive pegasus looked at me in confusion. “I mean, there were the bandits, and the transaction, and finally this meeting we’re having right now. Something tells me you’re not forking over all the information you know in an attempt to seem as though you had no power over the way things turned out.”

“Ladarion, that was because with my father in charge, I truly didn’t have any power to-”

“Then explain to me why you stalled! You stalled both me and Yahguul for whatever reason, yet you make it seem as though this meeting shouldn’t be happening!”

“Well, if you’d give me a moment, then-”

“And afterward, you try to be all buddy-buddy with both me and the Prince to make it seem like you’re everyone’s friend!”

“Just let me get a word in, and I’ll be able to tell you why-”

“No, fuck you, Queseque! You fucked me! Alright?! You have singlehandedly ruined any possible chance I had at being a free man tomorrow, all for power! You’ve been telling Yahguul about me and allowed him to walk onto this property to seize something from me that is not, nor ever will be, his! Do YOU understand!?” I stood up, pushing my chair back.

“NOT EVERYTHING I DID WAS FOR POWER, YOU MORONIC CREATURE!” shouted Queseque, his formerly businesslike, if somber, demeanor tossed aside as he too stood up, eye to eye with me as he was atop the armchair he sat in. “This plan was too long in the making, and I could not allow the opportunity to pass! But then you came along and nearly destroyed it! The transaction was supposed to be for some mindless animal, not an intelligent, captivating being!

Queseque looked down, a small tear trailing down his face. The fact that he was crying served to only add to my confusion. “I pleaded, pleaded, Ladarion, for Prince Yahguul to allow you to stay! I saw you not as an animal, nor a sum of bits, but as a kindred spirit! And all it took was one night for me to realize that you, more than anypony else, could fill this empty, pleasure-seeking life I lead! I’d never met a pony such as you and wanted so desperately to befriend them! But the Prince refused, and I could not do any more than allow him to take what he wanted so that he, in turn, would not turn this town into a battleground! I feel so close to breaking from all of the pressure, from all of the awful things I’ve done! So what I got something out of it!? In this filthy world, you were something that went untarnished by the deserts! You were my redemption!”

“Well, that goes to show just how little you know about me, Queseque,” I said coldly. “I’m about as sullied as it gets, and I’ve already got plenty of blood on my hands. That you’re blind to it truly shows that I ain’t the only naive person in this room. And as touching as it is that you tried, knowing that you didn’t succeed doesn’t very much help anything. Now those ponies outside are gonna chain me up and make some kind of circus freak outta me. No amount of excuses will change that. And you can blame the lovely Prince as many times as you like, but you had just as large a hand in this as he did, far as I’m concerned, probably even larger.”

Queseque looked crushed for a moment upon hearing that, tears still flowing freely as he let loose a small sniffle. He placed his face in his hooves and quivered. I simply watched, some fleeting sense of satisfaction coming to me out of making him feel the weight of his actions.

After a long while, he released an unsteady breath while his face contorted into something… malicious. It was as though my little tangent caused something within him to snap. Queseque wiped clear his face before hopping off of his chair, approaching the table on which his father lied. “You’re right. Rightrightright, you are very, very right. So right, in fact, that my end of the bargain was made all the more simple due to just how right you are."

I warily backed away from the manic pony as he continued his ramblings, starting when he reached into his collar and pulled out my knife. “You know, from the moment we met, you have always had such a way with words, Ladarion. You’re like that eccentric reptile from way back when, Drakespeare! Haha! And I absolutely loved his work! I mean, if anypony else were to stomp on my heart in such a way, I would hardly care, but you? You’re special, mi amigo. This blazing furnace that burns inside of me? Something must be done to quench it."

Queseque approached his father, gently lifting his head as the stallion let out weak, pitiful breaths. “Mi hijo…” he coughed, spilling blood as red as the wine on the table. “I know I did not treat you well, that I was not the father you wanted me to be, but I implore you, end this insanity before its blaze consumes all of Equus. That is all I ask of you.”

Running a hoof through his father’s hair, Queseque smiled down at his old man. “Oh, you needn’t concern yourself with the problems of the future, dear Papi. Leave that for the living, eh?” He then leaned in, brushing his nose against his father’s ear, yet speaking just loud enough for me to hear it too. “The wine. The wine was meant to take your life, Nahive. As I’ve stated, only the Chosen can drink its contents. My hooves weren’t supposed to be dirtied with your blood, but as Ladarion over here says, I should take responsibility for my actions."

A glow emanated from Queseque’s chest as he said this, causing me to gape at the display. No. This can’t be right. “So I will not tell you that my hooves were forced. Instead, I will tell you that I did this because I wanted to. For every time you called me runt or bastard, for every promise you made to grant me nothing after your passing, for every moment you ripped me away from my sisters and my true mother, I only wish I could give you a longer, more proper repayment for all of your transgressions against me, this family, and the town of Sauna Pai. But for now…” He lifted his head away from the trembling form of his father. “For now, I must say adios, padre.” With that, Queseque took my knife and plunged it deep into Nahive’s neck, the pony weakly flailing about as more blood poured from the wound.

Queseque, still smiling, twisted the sharpened steel before tearing it from his father’s throat in a savage display of crimson-colored rain that lightly spattered everything in its arc, including me.

I let loose a horrified scream, having never witnessed such a horrific deed, before backing up and falling flat on my ass as I forgot in my shock how to properly walk.

I found myself sickened to the stomach at the sight, having to fight back bile as I took in every detail of Nahive’s twitching body, my own heart glowing just the same. The pony let out garbled, syrupy noises as he suffocated, me still unable to wrench my eyes from the disgusting sight.
It was at that moment that I realized that no matter how many violent movies I used to watch, they would never prepare me for seeing someone murdered in cold blood in reality. At least in TV, there’s a separation between me and the characters. They were relatable in the best of works, but at the end of the day they were all fictional. Here, though, in this land, however different from my own, everyone was real. There was no separation, only truth. And the truth was that I had just watched a living, breathing being get his throat torn in twain in some demented show by an insane pony. Funny how many curveballs life throws at you.

Queseque patted his father’s head, shushing him. “It will all be over soon, Papi. You will soon be free of sin.”

I sat there as I got my breathing under control before I heard the doors open, the clip clopping of hooves clacking against the floors as someone approached. “So I see that you have held up your end of the bargain, Mr. Blanca. Your father was something of a… hitch in the plans, you see.”

Queseque walked back to the stand, retrieving the already dirtied cloth and wiping his hooves free of the blood. “My father, Bolukbasi Sarif, was a simple pony who held close the antiquated values of his home. He was honorable, caring, and all around a good pony. However…” he turned to me, his eyes icy, “he was killed, murdered barbarically by a wild animal whose existence is unexplainable.” He placed the cloth and the knife atop the stand before trotting toward me. “YOU TOOK HIM FROM ME!” he bellowed, causing me to jump and cover my face, a small whimper escaping me. Queseque drew in a deep breath before continuing. “I can find it in my heart to forgive you, though. Still, I think it best that you take this dangerous creature from my property, Captain. As you can see, my maids are going to have quite the clean up ahead of them thanks to him. Now begone, I wish not to see anypony at the moment.”

“But of course, sir,” said Sarif as two other guards walked in. He looked down to me, smiling. “You will make a fine addition, creature. You along with that trifling griffon.” And with that, he binded me, me not finding the strength or the will to fight back. With a command in his language, Arib and a Blanca Guard trotted inside. Soon enough, I was pulled to my knees and pushed through the door out of the study. I turned back to take one last look at Queseque, seeing him already back to reading wherever he left off.

I again faced forward as the door to the study was shut, still trying to shake the scene that had just played out before me from my mind, but to no avail.

What a crapsaccharine world.