Something isn’t right, I realize with a start. There are clear memories in my mind leading up to a certain point—punctuated by a blinding pain radiating from the base of my skull—but beyond that, there’s just this empty feeling in my mind. No, there’s something else too—dread.

I can remember going back to my dorm room to get prettied up for my birthday date with Blossom. That much is clear, because I’m still surprised by how eager she was to be my stallion tonight. If all I had to do was throw together my Safe Eros potion... why can I remember nothing but pain?

Perhaps a better question right now might be where the hell I even am, and who the fuck locked me in here. I mean, this kind of looks like some kind of place out of a horror game. The room is dusty, musty, and dark, yet there’s this vague familiarity about the place. All of the stone walls but one are lined with scorched bookshelves, their contents burned beyond recognition. The one bare wall looks as though it once bore a door and two windows before being bricked over. Hauntingly enough, the way the door and windows are bricked in reminds me of a screaming face.

Almost contrary to physical laws, there is a sourceless beam of light permeating the darkness in the center of the chamber, placing great emphasis a black stone—no, that’s definitely obsidian—dais. The only thing occupying the dark slab is a single unburned tome. Looking at the heavy book, I feel as though there is some sort of trick of the eye about it; whenever I look at it, my eyes almost beg to look elsewhere in the chamber, as though whatever that book contains should not be viewed by mortal eyes and should instead be quickly forgotten.

With nothing else in the chamber worth my attention, however, I find myself paradoxically drawn to the object my mind insists I should leave be. Closer inspection of the tome reveals to me what my subconscious had long ago picked up on: this book is bound in a gray, fuzzy skin—most likely a pony’s, if the cutie mark is any indicator. Just a glance at it betrays the suffering catalogued within, filling my heart with a dread unlike anything I’ve experienced before.

Wait a second! Isn’t that my cutie mark? Sure enough, a second glance at the mark on the cover of the tome reveals an alchemy flask over a crescent moon, its u-shaped points aimed in the same direction as the top of the flask. What in the fuck is going on here? This can’t possibly be mine! Mine’s still attached!

Without giving a thought to what might happen, I move to open it. Almost immediately I regret it; when my hoof touches the edge of the cover, my entire nervous system is wracked by the sudden onset of pain. It’s so all-encompassing that I can’t even separate it all and determine what’s sore and why. Given the sudden burst of agony and just how intensely my body aches, it’s no wonder that I collapsed onto the dais mere moments after touching it.

The strange part is, that the very instant my hoof breaks contact with the cover, the pain ceases. If I had to guess, the book is enchanted—or cursed—to force a very specific number of sensations onto the reader... but why would anypony make something like that? That’s just cruel. It’s even more cruel to lock some poor sod in a room with it, when in all likelihood the only answer to getting out is in that book.

Sighing in resignation, I pull myself completely onto the obsidian dais before lowering myself into a prone position in front of the book. Maybe if I can just flick the pages with a primary feather I can discover the contents of this book and find a way out of here. If I’m lucky, the pain might not even transmit through feathers. Getting out of here could be easier than it looks!

Not wasting any more time, I extend my wing forward and touch it to the cover of the book. My hypothesis is unfortunately not correct, however. Much like before, my entire body seizes up in pain, only this time, a lot of it is centralized in my wing, close to the base. Anypony who has ever had a broken bone recognizes the pain of trying to utilize that limb, and that is most definitely the sensation I’m feeling right now. Drawing back my limb, relishing in the vanishing pain, I allow myself to wonder if it is contextual to how the body is posed.

Turning the pages to this book is going to be a literal pain. Why would anypony make a book like this? Maybe... maybe the pain is intended to be context for the contents, but if that’s the case, why would this help me any? I want to curl up and cry like a little filly after only touching the book twice, and I can’t understand why this is happening at all.

I take a deep breath before firmly affixing my resolute stare on the artifice of agony. “Somepony wants me to understand something,” I whisper to myself, realizing for the first time how hoarse I am. My entire throat feels like I’ve been screaming for hours. “It’s time to find out what this book is all about.”

Again I place my hoof on the cover of the book, and allow the pain to flow through me. Past the initial blinding torment, the sensation dulls slightly until it feels like my body. Wincing, I shut my eyes and begin taking stock of the sensations throughout my body. Somepony went through a lot of trouble to hard-code their pain, so the least I can do is share in it.

The first suffering I sample is the anguish radiating from my muzzle. It’s almost as if I’ve been bucked in the face by a horse. Almost subconsciously, my tongue moves to prod at my teeth. With a squeak of distress, my teeth feel changed—broken—as though every tooth in the front of my muzzle has been shattered like glass. The surprise is too much for me, and my hoof twitches off of the book, returning my teeth to a sensation of normalcy.

It’s a devious little enchantment that not only shrouds the reader in woe, but tricks their very senses into living through what they experienced. A stray memory comes to me, reminding me that Twilight once tried explaining illusion magic to me. I can remember how horrified I felt when she told me that a sufficiently powerful unicorn could convince somepony they were dead. That is why higher tier illusion magic is for the most part restricted. This book is like the magnum opus of some ranking unicorn studying that art, or worse, one of the princesses during a dark, dark time. Nae, it has to be an alicorn; how else could my wings ache as they did?

Shaken, but not dissuaded, I once more dive into this author’s misery. Working my way back from the shoulders, her injuries slowly but surely become apparent. Her wings are both broken at the bases, and she has a few broken ribs, as if somepony had stretched her wings out and then stomped them into her sides. Various other bruises and cuts cover her abdomen, but what surprises me most is the internal suffering. Many of her internal organs feel battered, and I worry that she might have been dealing with internal bleeding when she made the book.

Oh yes, this pony is very much a she. When you have owned a vagina for any length of time, you know what one feels like. If the searing agony of her torn vagina and anus are any indicator, she is definitely the recent victim of sexual abuse. Luna preserve me! This mare... It’s almost as though she were beaten, raped, and left for dead.

I pull my hoof off of the book quickly, choking back a hoarse sob. Is it the pain that’s getting me? Am I empathizing with her because of what... Aqua Regia did to me? Why does my heart ache so much? “No, stop, Silver. You need to take a moment to rest!”

Sometimes, my voice isn’t strong enough to reach my own ears. How simple it would be if I could listen to myself all of the time. I might save myself some hardship if I just accept this place, whatever it is. “Somepony will come for me! They have to! Ice Blossom wouldn’t just let me vanish. She loves me!”

Ignoring my own voice, I plunge my hoof forward and flip the cover open.

“Oh?” a voice calls out in the darkness. It’s... male, but vaguely familiar. Who is this? “You’re finally awake, are you?”

A feeling of dread fills me as I open my eyes. I’m sprawled out on the floor in my room, and a strange unicorn stallion is here, standing over me and grinning victoriously, as though I’m some hard-won prize. Between the light-red coat, the golden mane, and those piercing blue eyes, I have a pretty good idea who this pony is, but I really, really don’t like it. Aqua Regia—somehow a stallion—is here in my dorm room, staring at me like a piece of meat.

A number of things begin to click into place in my head. Ever since Aqua’s expulsion and concurrent repudiation from House Blueblood, it always feels like somepony has been following and watching me, looking for something. Things keep going missing—from little mementos to important things kept locked away in my chest here in the dorm—without any explanation. Hell, if I remember correctly, somepony broke into the professor’s office and stole all of my submitted research. Even my dreams are haunted by an ominous feeling of being watched. That one event is the start of it all... but then...

“How wonderful! You figured it out without ever having asked a question,” he says with a pointed glare. “This gives me so much more time to enforce your penance for your crimes against me.”

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, Aqua,” I growl, pushing myself up off the floor with practiced ease. “Go. Fuck. Yourself.”

“I’d rather exact my thrills from your... admittedly pleasing form,” he purrs mellifluously. “I will, however have to do something about that awful mouth of yours.”

I stare at him in disbelief. He can’t really be so desperately stupid to do this in the dorm room, can he? “Are you some kind of m—” That’s as far as I get before, with blinding speed, his hoof collides with my muzzle in a vicious left hook. The sensation of teeth shattering nearly causes me to white out, and I certainly would have if not for the fountain of blood, vomit, and teeth following soon after.

“You’re thick!” I cry out, cringing at my newfound lisp. Every breath and splash of blood is like raw acid poured upon my exposed dental nerves, but still I force myself to speak. “You’ll nefer get away with thith!”

With a sibilant chuckle, he ignites his horn in that sickly green glimmer of his magic. “You make it sound as though I care,” he growls, wrapping my throat in a magical vise. Using his magical grasp, he leverages my head down to give me a clear view of the glistening black mass bobbing beneath him. More terror fills my heart as I look at the thing. It’s fucking huge! “The most dangerous creation of any society is a mare who has nothing to lose.”

If I could, I would gurgle out some placatory words, but it’s for the best that I can’t. If Aqua Regia is this sick in the head, he isn’t going to listen either way. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll kill me first and then rape my body. That might be preferable to whatever he can do with that massive monster cock he’s so eager to wag in my face. A stray thought imploring me to bite his cock off crosses my mind, but fear and logic are quick to point out that he’ll just crush my larynx anyway.

“Mmmmyes, I think you’re getting the picture nicely,” he whispers into my ear with faux sensuality. “Don’t fight it, and you just might live.”

He pulls away suddenly, and the aura surrounding his horn increases. With just as much warning as his sudden retreat, my wings flare out against my will, and quickly drag me down to the floor. Stretched painfully, my own limbs pin me precariously to the ground. “Unfortunately for you, I plan on having some fun either way.”

That’s all the warning he gives before rearing up and slamming his forehooves—and the entire weight of his body—down on the bases of my wings. A sickening crunch makes itself known to me as the fragile bones in my wings shatter and the not-so-fragile ribs beneath give way beneath his heavy-hooved blows. If he feels it, he certainly doesn’t make it known. There’s certainly no way he heard it with how loud I’m screaming in pain. He seems too distracted by the fact that in my agony, I momentarily lost control of my bladder.

The screaming—my screaming—lasts for nearly ten minutes. I scream until I’m completely hoarse, and even then, I find some way to scream some more. It’s a wonder that I haven’t torn anything inside my throat, or that I’m not choking on my own blood right now. Even more worrisome, Aqua Regia doesn’t even seem bothered that I’m screaming so loudly or so much.

Rather, my screaming has the worst possible effect on him. The black mass of stallion-flesh bobbing beneath his belly throbs once, before leaking a steady stream of pre-seminal fluid. The thing looks impossibly larger too—easily the length and circumference of my entire arm. “Scream all you want, you worthless wretch,” he purrs coldy. “Nopony is going to hear anything through my sound-proofing talisman.”

Whimpering, I drag myself away from the maniac stallion, his steadily pulsating erection, and the puddles of blood, vomit, teeth, and urine. He knows he can’t get away with this, right? Somepony will find us, and he’ll be stopped. Aqua’s on probation and is under a restraining order, so somepony has to know where he is. He can’t not know this, unless he does know, but doesn’t care whether he lives or dies. “You’re really going to kill me! On my own birthday!” I whine, the hopelessness of my situation finally settling in. Before I can stop myself, I foolishly ask, “Why?”

His nostrils flare in anger, and for a quick moment, he has me convinced that he’s about to crush my skull for my impudence. “What do you want me to tell you,” he says, sighing and sagging. “Do you want me to tell you that I’m doing this simply because I have nothing to lose? You already know you’ve taken everything from me.” He stomps his hoof in anger, thudding loudly against the flooring. “You have no idea what that even means, do you!?”

Striding forward once more, he places himself firmly in front of me with a glare that, by all rights, should be capable of killing. “You have no understanding what being a mare in the Blueblood family even means!” He all but screams this in my ear before lighting his horn and grabbing hold of my body. Unlike the paresthetic sensation of magic that I’ve received every other time a unicorn has ever used magic on me, I’m treated to sensations not of numbness, but pain. Just the touch of his magic burns with the agony and hate he feels for me. “As a mare, I am only as useful as the connections I make. I will never have importance in the family. Mares are just pawns in political marriages and resource acquisition, purposely kept stupid to the true ways of the world. Oh sure, I was pampered and spoiled by my brother, because he was grooming me to sell me off to one of his business partners. All they taught me was that money and political clout equaled power.

“Getting him to allow me to go to the university was a small victory in and of itself,” he snarls, wrenching my body around with his magic, lifting my hips. “My hopes—my dreams—were of finding a way of proving my worth to the family. If only I could make the right connections and learn the right things, I could have turned House Blueblood on its horn. I could have challenged my brother and become the first mare to become head of the family. The right to choose who I love—who I marry!—would have been mine! You. Ruined. EVERYTHING!” He throws his hooves around my flanks, positioning himself for what I know is to come. “I have nothing, now. You’ve taken away my name, my money... I’m not able to have foals now! All because of you!

“How ironic it is then, that the one bit of research that could have helped me was found by you?” he asks gravely, holding his behemoth genitals mere millimeters from my marehood. Much to my disgust, Aqua nibbles gently on my ear. “You could have been the pony I was looking for—the one to help me change House Blueblood for the better!”

“Do you even lithten to yourthelf?” I mutter, once again cringing at my lisp. “You prattle on and on about the thingth you’ve lotht, acting like you’re thome kind of fictim in all thith! Thith ith nothing but clithed fillain bullthit meant to make the protagonitht feel bad for them. ‘Oh no, I’m not efil; I’m jutht mithunderthtood!’ You’re no fictim, Aqua Regia! You’re fucking thick in the head!”

Biting down on my mane and tugging it fiercely, he snorts. “Oh, I know,” is all he says before he shifts himself upward ever so slightly before thrusting into me, cackling madly all the while. “Hold on, now, darling! I’m going in dry!”

Screaming in agony, I slam the book shut. “What the fuck was that?” I screech, smacking the book off of the dais with one hoof. That is the most disturbing thing I have ever seen, bar none. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” a long forgotten voice asks. That voice... I know it, but it can’t be... “Of course it can be. I’m you, or at least a part of you, sorta.”

I turn my glare from that disgusting book to look for the source of the voice. At first, there’s nothing there in the darkness, but after a few moments of staring, a tall, bipedal silhouette becomes tangible at the edge of the dais. “So, Soren, why am I here?” I ask in a wavering voice, as more and more familiar features resolve themselves from the dark form. “What’s happening to me?”

“There’s no gentle way to say this, Silver,” he says, toying with a lock of brown hair with ashen-white fingers. “You’re dying.”

I stare at the spectre in confusion. “I can’t be dying,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I feel fine!”

His hauntingly familiar blue eyes stare at me pityingly for a few moments before he turns away, frowning. “Think—really think—about it, man,” he pleads, strolling around the dais to join the unseated book. “How can I be here? You know humans can’t exist in Equestria in their natural forms. So what am I?”

I take a few agonizing minutes to ponder this as he reaches down and picks up the tome with his bare hands. “You’re... a figment of my psyche,” I guess, earning a solemn nod from my human counterpart. Looking around at the room once more, I shudder. “I’m locked inside my own mind again, aren’t I?”

Frowning, Soren crawls up to join me here on the dais. Placing the tome beside him, he stuns me by pulling me into a tearful hug. “What we’ve been through... We’re on the precipice of life and death, Silver,” he sobs into my mane. “We’re trying so hard to just shut down and block out what has happened. What we’ve witnessed, it makes us want to die, but we can’t. I won’t let you.”

“So, what,” I ask, eying the book at his side. “You’re the part of me that wants to live?”

Aside from placing the book before me once more, he sighs. “If you delve into your memories once more, there will be no returning here,” he says flatly. “You’re going to be confronted with your worst fears, and this is where you will have to make a choice. One is to live, but throw me away, costing you everything. Another is to keep me and do nothing, ensuring our deaths. The final choice will be the hardest of all.”

Slamming a hoof on the obsidian, I glare at what I can only assume is the manifestation of my bloodlust. “Quit being so fucking cryptic, Soren,” I growl, feeling the results of the screaming done in that vision, nightmare, or whatever it is. “I’m not one hundred percent convinced that this isn’t all just one great big mindfuck, and that you aren’t who you say you are!

“For all I know, you’re some batshit insane changeling who gets his or her kicks from agony instead of love!” I stare Soren in the eyes for a good few moments before continuing. “Why should I believe anything you have to say?”

If looks could break your heart, the way Soren’s face contorts in sadness would leave an entire village mourning. Tears begin streaming down his spectral, ash-white cheeks in earnest. He points his hand toward the brick face in the wall. In a hitching voice, he says, “You can still save her, Silver.”

Watching at the wall part like two opening eyes is a haunting experience for two reasons. First, the sensation that I am indeed staring out through my own narrowed eyes courses through me. I really don’t like what I see, and I’m fairly certain that I’m going to be haunted by it for the rest of my life. On the other side of the viewports is Aqua Regia’s lower half, hunched over Ice Blossom’s face, furiously pumping away, plunging his stallionhood further down her throat.

With the wail of a banshee, I tear my eyes away from the scene before me, making a mad grab for the book. Tears streaming from the corners of my clenched eyes, I whimper, “No, I won’t let this happen. Not to Blossom!” Disregarding the pain, I throw the book open and plunge my hoof down on a random page. “I’m coming, baby!”

As the pain engulfs my body and mind, I can just hear Soren speaking his voice changing with every syllable. “I am so sorry, my love; I never meant to lie to you, but it must be this way,” the sentence ends with Blossom’s voice. “I love you, Silver Script.”

“Back for more, are you?” Aqua Regia purrs in my ear, before biting down hard enough to draw blood. I feel his member pulse against my back in enjoyment of his cruelty. “That’s good! You’re so much fun when you’re conscious. When you were unconscious, it was like rutting a corpse.”

I cringe away, pointlessly attempting to pull myself from beneath him. At the first sign of struggle, he places one hoof on my side, just above my broken wing and ribs. It’s not a threat, but a promise that if I make things difficult for him, he will make my death long and drawn-out. At this very moment, I’d like nothing more than to black out once more, before he can get back to raping me.

“Now, you’ve gotten me absolutely filthy,” he says in a very manic tone. “You’re going to lick me clean before I continue my fun.” At that, the domineering stallion pulls himself off of me, walking around me to place himself perpendicular to me. “No teeth though, or I’ll crush your head and leave you at your lover’s doorstep.”

The thought of Blossom finding me in such a state is terrifying enough to ensure I don’t do anything rash. It’d break her heart. How can he be this cruel? Surely what I did to him isn’t worth casting aside his equinity. I mean, he’s likely to be sent to Tartarus for this. He can’t possibly be right in the head.

“That’s not the sound of you cleaning my cock, you worthless whore,” he growls, raising one hoof to my head. “Do it, or I’ll help myself to your precious Ice Blossom, too.”

Grudgingly, I drag myself closer to his penis. The black, veiny length is absolutely glistening with my blood, but it’s unfortunately not the only thing coating his flesh. Choking back a sob, I extend my tongue, and gingerly drag it up his length starting from the medial ring. Immediately, the acrid taste of shit and blood fills my mouth, causing me to retch violently. No, I can’t, but if I don’t he’s going to take it out on Blossom too.

Up and down I run my tongue up his shaft, openly sobbing. Each time I cry out, his length twitches in excitement, bouncing off of his chest in lustful abandon. Somehow, I think I should be comforted in the fact that he seems to be getting more satisfaction out of my suffering than he does from my ministrations, but really? It only scares the fuck out of me.

A frightening thought crosses my mind, then. He wants something out of this, clearly, but he’s receiving no pleasure from the contact. That means he’s a sexual sadist, right? I gulp down air in fear, careful not to swallow the vile mess in my mouth. He’s only going to get off by making me suffer.

“You’re not doing a very good job, you guttersnipe trash!” Enveloping my head in his burning corona of magic, he drags my face toward the very end of his shaft, positioning me right in front of his urethral opening. “Clean me completely, and then swallow. You’ll do it unless you want me to hurt everypony you’ve ever loved.”

With a whimper, I lick at the head of his penis, once more exposing my palate to the disgusting sludge of blood and feces. Almost immediately, his glans begins to flare out, marking just how close he is. Please, not in my mouth. I lick once, twice, and then once more for good measure, and then he’s clean. I look up at him pleadingly, silently begging him not to make me do this.

“You’re going to do this, wastrel,” he says, his hateful tone betraying just how aroused my suffering makes him. Lighting his horn once more with magic, his acidic aura surrounds my muzzle, crushing my mouth and nostrils shut. “You don’t have a choice.”

With no other choice, I screw my eyes shut, and swallow my own filth, praying desperately that I don’t become ill while he holds my mouth and nostrils stuck. As much as I might want to die right now, choking on my own regurgitated blood and shit isn’t what I have in mind. I would rather suffer heart failure or blood loss, depriving him of any more fun.

Almost immediately after I swallow, he forces my eyelids open with his magic, leaving me with no option but to watch as his urethra opening parts. The very instant the first stream of semen shoots forth into my eyes, he viciously drags my mouth open with magic, nearly unhinging it. I honestly can’t tell which hurts more at this point, the burning sensation of the semen in my eyes or my near broken jaw.

Sobbing weakly to myself, I just sit there in agony as he paints me with a near unending amount of cum. It’s in my mane, my fur, my eyes, and my nose. Worst of all, it’s in my mouth, and try as I might, I can’t ignore the bitter saltiness of it all. I almost welcome the acrid taste of my own crap to this bastard’s fluids.

My suffering doesn’t end there, though. Once he’s covered me in his semen like some common whore, he grins down at me, his horn still lit. Almost giggling like a school-filly, he gathers as much of his vile product as he can in a bubble of magic—not once caring as he tears out some of my mane in the process—and holds it in front of my mouth. “Eat.”

I shake my head, glaring up at him. “I hate you.”

“Wrong answer, commoner filth!” He slams his hoof against the side of my head, knocking me flat on my side. The moment my head strikes the floor, the bubble of cum and fur is in my mouth, and once more, he holds my mouth and nose shut. I don’t reward him by swallowing this time. No, instead I choose glare at him out of the corner of my eye, watching hatefully as I begin to black out.

My entire body aches. Why is Aqua doing this? How can she blame me for any of what she said? Is House Blueblood really that terrible to mares? Did her upbringing deny her any of the social graces required to actually make friends—real friends? Am I really such a bad pony for wanting to live my life the way that I am? Maybe I’m the crazy one after all... Maybe I do deserve this birthday present.

No matter how long I lie here, trapped in my own thoughts, I keep coming back to those questions. There’s no reason for her to hate me this much—to go as far as to turn herself into a stallion to rape and probably murder me—unless I deserve this, right? How could I ever have thought that I could come here to Equestria and interfere with the lives of its citizens? I’m an aberration—a mistake. All I do is ruin the lives of those around me—those better than me. I’m a monster that Celestia and Luna should never have set loose on their ponies.

This must be what Aqua Regia is trying to show me. My very presence is a corrupting influence—a blight—on Equestria, and now I’m being punished for it. This is what he meant by penance. My penance is to be shown the error of my ways before purging me from existence like I should have been so long ago.

My hope and resolve shattered, I slowly open my eyes and draw in an aching breath. A gentle shift of my body weight allows me to roll relatively painlessly onto my belly, a comfort I don’t deserve. My eyes never leave the floor, though. “I’m ready,” I whisper in a hitching voice, taking great care not to lisp in spite the terrible dentistry enacted by Aqua Regia. “Do what you must, and rid Equestria of me. You’re only doing what you think is right for Equestria...”

Whimpering fills the room, as well as dark laughter. “Oh, isn’t that precious, darling?” Aqua Regia’s still-male voice booms with raucous laughter. “I think I broke her!” A whimper and a muffled sound replies to his jibe. “What’s that? Play with her some more? What a lovely idea!”

Despite my hesitance to look upon Aqua Regia any more, the presence of somepony other than Aqua in the room is too important to ignore. Slowly, I begin to look up to the source of the whimpering, praying it isn’t Ice Blossom...

“It’s funny, really,” Aqua chortles in a manner that scares me more than anything. My eyes lock on him in an instant and my blood goes cold. There, bound and gagged beside him on my bed, is Ice Blossom, crying and whimpering. She looks so desperate to get away from him, and I can’t blame her. “I could have sworn I locked your door in addition to sound-proofing it, but I guess I was mistaken. Oh well, I took care to make sure of it this time.”

He drags his tongue slowly up her cheek, wiping up a stream of tears, before hopping off of the bed. “Honestly, this couldn’t have worked out any better!” he croons cheerfully. “You went and blacked out on me, and I was convinced that you weren’t going to respond to any stimulus I could possibly provide, and then she just walked right in without a clue in the world!”

“Don’t hurt her, you bathtard!” I scream wildly. “Thee hath nothing to do with thith! Thee doethn’t detherfe any of thith!”

Trotting across the room toward me, he smiles at me coldly. “Oh, I know. That’s what makes this all the more sweet.” He glances over his shoulder, quickly using his magic to ensure her legs are completely bound. “I could make you suffer before you die without ever touching you.”

“You don’t hafe to do thith! Jutht let her go!” I sob, burying my head in my hooves. I don’t want her to see how pathetic and worthless I am. “Itth between you and me!”

“We’ll see,” he says in an oddly placatory tone. Is that... regret? Fear? “You know what comes next, though.”

I nod silently beneath my hooves. There’s nothing else to do but count the seconds before he begins his assaults once more. Each step he takes is like an earthquake to my ears, causing my stomach to clench in fear. Maybe... if I cooperate he’ll be gentler? It’s stupid to think the apparent sexual sadist would somehow be gentler now that he has my marefriend captive as well, but despite it all, I find myself rising to my hooves—assuming the position, as it were.

Even so, I don’t remove my gaze from the floor. It doesn’t take a genius for me to figure out that watching me is breaking Blossom’s heart, either. The moment my hips are raised and my tail is flicked aside, a new stream of sobs and muffled screams erupt from her, and with every sob and smothered syllable, a new torrent of tears streams forth from my eyes.

When the assault doesn’t come, I begin to tremble. What if he’s going to go after Blossom instead? Is my cooperation no fun for him? “Go ahead! Get it over with,” I sob, trying hard once more not to lisp in spite of my shattered teeth. “This is what you wanted, right? You wanted to ruin me in front of the one I love—to make sure she could never love me again, because you’ll never have love yourself, right? Well?”

The goading seems to do the trick. With a snarl of anger, he mounts me, slamming his forehooves down on the bases of my broken wings. Newfound furor invigorates him, and it doesn’t take him long to find my marehood with his monster. It’ll never rightly fit, but he doesn’t care. A few moments of mindless battering are all it takes before I feel something tear.

I would like to think I didn’t scream as agony like I’ve never felt radiates from my torn vagina, and truth be told, it isn’t a scream at all. Instead, I jam my forearm into my mouth, biting down as I scream. The resulting sound instead resembles the impotent, strangled growl of a furious mare, only, I’m not furious; I’m hurt, scared, and wish this all to be done with.

“Don’t you talk about me like you know me, you ungrateful mongrel!” he screams, battering my dock and buttocks with his hips on every syllable. Each time he does, I scream impotently into my leg as I feel my womb being crushed against my diaphragm and my birth canal stretched almost to the breaking point. Looking between my forelegs, my fears are realized when I see my belly distending beneath me with every thrust. “All I’ve ever wanted is a chance to live like a normal pony—to have friends and feel love; to be free of politics. I wanted to give the mares of House Blueblood a chance to live as more than tools! You took all of that from me!”

Again with this? “Stop being so fucking delusional, Regia!” I growl into my foreleg, the fur and flesh of my leg preventing the air of my breath from whistling through my broken teeth. “You did this all to yourself! I didn’t make any of this happen! You did it all on your broken lonesome! You’re getting the death penalty for this, you know. You’re beyond help, so they’re going to put you down like the rabid dog you are!”

“ENOUGH!” he screams, slamming my head into the floor once more. “ANOTHER WORD, AND I’LL SLIT YOUR DAMN THROAT!”

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” The scream from Blossom catches the both of us of guard. Try as I might, I can’t bring myself to not look at her, and to my shock and sorrow, she’s chewed through her gag and bindings. She’s off the bed, and slowly approaching the two of us. “YOU LAY ANOTHER HOOF ON HER, AND SO HELP ME CELESTIA, I WILL TURN YOU INTO PASTE!”

I look her pleadingly in the eye and shake my head. “Blossom, please get back,” I whimper, feeling my legs going limp beneath Aqua Regia’s bulky stallion form. “He’s not right in the head! He’s not thinking straight! He’ll—”

My eyes go wide, quickly filling with tears. In a flash of acid green magic, the head of Ice Blossom—the pony I love more than all else and would willingly bear foals for—soars across the room, severed cleanly at the neck. There’s no sound—no scream, no tearing of flesh, nothing at all. One moment she’s there, poised to strike Aqua Regia, and then... her head is just sitting there on Gale’s bed, blood already pooling on the griffon’s bedding.

That’s when it gets infinitely worse for me. Before my beloved’s body realizes that her head is no longer attached and goes limp, falling to the floor, her heart beats steadily for a few seconds, showering both of us with blood. I blink repeatedly, trying to get her blood out of my eyes. I close my mouth and open it again, upon finding her blood on my lips.

Even though I know what I’ll see will hurt, I find myself looking back to the bed and her head. Just when I thought I couldn’t be subjected to any more horrors this night, I make eye-contact with her. For just a fleeting few seconds, I watch the remaining life drain from her eyes as she blinks repeatedly in confusion. It’s as though she doesn’t yet understand that she’s...

Blossom, the only pony—the only person—I’ve ever considered loving more than my family or even myself is, dead. Killed before my eyes, she’s just gone. My beloved is just... No more. Gone. Deceased. No longer living.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. This is all just one great big nightmare. I’ll just close my eyes, and this will all end. She can’t be dead. She isn’t... No. No. No. No. NO!

Tearing my eyes away, I scream in grief, rage, fear and self-loathing. “ICE BLOSSOM!”

It’s then, at the apex of my scream that I feel his penis flare, wedging inside me, painting my insides with his fetid seed. As more and more of my womb is pumped full, and my distended belly swells further, a familiar feeling—one that I dread—starts to radiate from my aching and bloodied vagina. Heat. Of course he would have used the original Eros potion and not the safe modification in my research papers.

When I feel Aqua Regia’s member slowly pull out, I slump to the floor, joining the mixing puddles of Ice Blossom’s blood, my own, and semen. There isn’t a shred of hope in me left. Knowing that I’m soon to follow, and seeing the death of my beloved behind my clenched eyes, I can’t bring myself to care about how dignified I am before I die. Blood and cum or squeaky clean—it doesn’t matter! Not... not... not without Blossom alive!

“I love you, Silver Script.” Blossom’s voice echoes throughout my mind, wrenching my heart, and bringing fresh tears to my eyes. Why did this happen? She deserves better than this! She was only trying to defend me, so why does she have to be the one to die?

“Stupid, stupid mare!” I hear Aqua Regia muttering, his voice wavering, but tinged with anger nonetheless. “I never planned on touching you, never mind killing, so why did you have to interfere?”

Opening my eyes, I see Aqua Regia perched on the edge of the bed with Blossom’s head. He not just sitting there with her, talking angrily to her, though. No, that would be too simple. That bastard... he’s fucking violating her. Like some cheap onahole, he’s just holding her there, thrusting into her mouth. Crying.

“I never wanted to kill anypony, you stupid, stupid pony,” he cries, clenching his eyes shut. “I didn’t even want to kill her! All you had to do was sit there and w-watch me ruin her—to make her feel as helpless as I did when she took everything from me—but n-n-no! You j-just had to ruin everything! Now I have to kill her too, and there’s no way they’re not going to know it was me! Life in p-p-p-prison I could take, but I don’t want to die!”

He doesn’t want to die? HE DOESN’T WANT TO DIE!?

With the fury of a lunar impact, I fight back the agony wracking my body and force myself to my hooves. Each step I take toward Aqua Regia is engulfed in pain, but the fire crackling in my heart is almost tangible, filling me with untold strength. My entire body feels of fire, and it’s not hard to imagine that my mane and tail—hell, even my wings—are engulfed and replaced entirely by surging flame. The room even seems somehow brighter—hotter—in my anger, but Aqua doesn’t even notice my approach.

“YOU DON’T WANT TO DIE?” I roar, dislodging the flesh and hair from my teeth as I rear up to slam my forehooves into his face and horn. He cries out, and beneath one hoof I feel a strong crunch. When I draw back for a second strike, I see a massive crack on his horn, radiating from the point of impact. Grinning the almost fanged-smile granted by my broken teeth, I slam down again, breaking it clean off. “HOW DO YOU THINK THEE FEELTH?

“THEE NEFER WANTED ANY OF THITH!” I hiss, smashing him in the face with a wicked backhoof. Releasing Blossom’s head, he falls across Gale’s bed. Streamers of blood fly from his mouth, painting the alcove in his blood. “THEE JUST WANTED TO HAVE A NITHE EFENING OUT—TO THPEND THE NIGHT WITH HER LOVER.

“THEE NEFER ATHKED FOR THITH.” I smash his muzzle with a solid kick. “THEE NEFER ATHKED TO THEE THIS.” I punch him repeatedly in the ribs. “AND THEE NEFER ONCE ATHKED YOU TO FIOLATE HER DEAD BODY!”

I stare smugly down at his bruised and bloodied form, heaving from exertion. Curling himself into a ball, he sobs weakly like a foal. He looks so defenseless, now, robbed of his horn, beaten and bloody, wracked by the guilt of killing a mare. He’s so pitiful looking now, and I hold all the power. I could grant Blossom vengeance!

“Go on then! Kill me!” he whimpers. “If anypony has the right to kill me, it’s you. Celestia knows it’d be better than what’ll happen when the guards get me.”

Frowning, I look down at Ice Blossom’s severed head. Her pupils, dilated fully upon her death, are already slowly, agonizingly contracting in rigor mortis. It’s haunting, really. She’s just staring in the direction her head pointed when she fell, but it feels like she’s still somehow here with me—judging me.

“There’th a fery real part of me that would like nothing better than to end you, Aqua Regia,” I intone in an almost neutral, but wavering voice, staring with all the hatred I can muster. In spite of myself, tears begin streaking steadily from the corners of my eyes. “Thee wouldn’t want that, though.”

I look down at him, trembling with anger and grief. Turning away, I shake my head. “Blothom ithn’t the type of mare who would want my hoofeth thtained with the end of your damn life,” I whisper. “You’re thick—mentally ill, efen—but thee would not wish death on you. Perthonally? I think death by my hoofeth ith far too good a fate for you.”

With that said, I grab her broken horn with one hoof, and flip him onto his back, revealing his penis no longer hidden by his curled form, but hiding away in its sheath. “W-wait!” he simpers, bringing his forehooves up to cover his face. “You just said you weren’t going to kill me!”

“I’m not,” I whisper sadly. That being said, I bring my hoof down, pinning him to the bed by his scrotum with his own horn. With some somber satisfaction, I feel one of his testicles pop beneath the horn before it continues through into the mattress and the wooden slab beneath. The pseudo-stallion begins screaming. “I’m making thure you’re not going anywhere.”

My rage abating, I stagger to the door. Try as I might, though, the door is firmly held in place. Upon further inspection I see the locking mechanism is actually melted. No! I need to get help! You have to open! I slam my hooves uselessly against the door, accidentally knocking the soundproofing talisman free of the door. Taking note that of the fallen talisman, I once more pound at the door. “Thomepony, anypony! Help!”

Much to my surprise, I hear a voice right away, and it breaks my heart to hear it now—Chill Beat. “Silver? What’s going on?” she asks, a tone of fear in her voice—no doubt from hearing the still-screaming Aqua Regia. “Where’s Blossom? Where’s my baby sis?”

“Beat... I...” I can’t bring myself to say it. “Please... Call the guardth. The lock is futhed, and I need medical athithtance.”

“Silver,” she asks again firmly. “Where is Blossom?”

“Don’t make me thay it, pleathe!” I scream, trailing off into sobbing.

Just barely, I can hear her on the other side. “No, no. Please, no...” She’s crying; why shouldn’t she? The only reason somepony would say what I said is if it is something too terrible for words. Her next words, with how empty they sound, hurt almost as though my very soul is being raped. “I-I’ll be back soon, okay? I’ll bring the guards. T-take care of my baby sis...”

The receding sounds of hooves and crying is all the assurance I need that help is coming. With that taken care of, I return to Blossom—or at least her head. I don’t know how long I stand there, just looking at her lifeless head. There are no sounds in the room beyond Aqua’s fading screams of agony, and my own whimpering. I’m just so tired…

With all hope and happiness dead in my heart, I cradle my beloved for the last time. Like she once held me, never willing to let go, I do the same. I want to protect her from this terrible nightmare, whatever the cost. That’s what this is, after all: a nightmare!

That’s the only way any of this makes sense. This is all one bad dream. That is why in the gloom of the room, it feels less like I’m sitting in a puddle of blood and other fluids, and more like a rain-soaked forest glade. I can even see it in my mind’s eye. With the rain, like falling teardrops pelting my forelegs and Blossom’s lifeless form, this scarcely feels like reality at all.

“Thith ith all just a nightmare, Blothom! You’ll thee! I’ll jutht wake up and you’ll be okay!” I whimper. “Pleathe... don’t leave me here alone!”

By the time help does come—in the form of Shining Armor and a file of unicorn guards blasting the door apart—they find me sitting in the middle of the room, rocking back and forth as I cradle and sing to Blossom’s severed head like a foal, sniffling all the while. “Huth now, quiet now; it’th time to lay your thleepy head. Huth now, quiet now; it’th time to go to bed...”

“Oh no... Silver.” The prince consort’s whisper is the last thing I hear before succumbing to my grief, trauma, and blood loss.

Author's Notes:

Alright, so I know by this point you all probably hate my guts. Hell, I wrote this entire chapter back in the beginning of September, and I still hate myself every time I've had to look in my story folder an see this chapter. To tell the truth, I've had all of this more or less planned out since the very beginning. The when and who dies had been the only major variable up until about August. It was around that time that I more or less decided in what way the story would end and had to create an 'anchor point' to which I could build up to. On September 10th, I began writing this chapter. After a few days of depression, this chapter came to a finish.

This is easily one of the darkest, most depressing, and painful/traumatic things I've ever written. The thing is that after a certain point, you become attached to a character. Even knowing what ultimately happens to this character, you can't help but begin to cherish them. That in itself is part of the reason I wanted to make Silver's time with Blossom go 'so well'. I wanted this chapter to have the sort of emotional impact that I'm hoping at this point that it had.

As cruel as it all is to do this to the mare who has already been through so much, I really need Silver Script to be in a certain mindset for what is to come. Even though the characters are my children to a certain degree, they are also literary tools, for the use of conveying a story. Yes, it hurts to do these things to your characters, but isn't it the pain that makes things worthwhile?

Regardless, with this, the big reason for the dark and tragedy tags has passed. Things aren't going to be 'easy' for Silver just yet, but now that the hurt is out of the way, the healing can begin.

Finally, I must apologize to you all for what has come to pass. This was not an easy choice, and it was plain as day that many of you would hate me for this, yet I went through with it regardless. I hope that you will all continue to read this story to the end.

Thanks go to Refro and Fourpony for helping edit this last night. Truth is this was pretty much a cram session in terms of editing. The three of us pretty much 'sat down together' to get this all done the same night as the previous two chapters. Plan was to release those two last night and this one today.

I also owe a friend from deviantART's #Bronies chat, 'Tamikimaru', thanks. When I wrote this chapter, I asked him if he ever drew dark stuff. We ended up having a conversation, and I gave him a vague description of a scene. The illustration included in the chapter was the end-result. It wasn't exactly dead on because I was incredibly vague, but I realized that the illustration itself could be made into words to project Silver's emotive state.
If you liked the image, make sure to swing by the deviation and comment. http://tamikimaru.deviantart.com/art/To-Kill-An-Ice-Flower-401985670

Sorry again, guys.
~Seven