The next morning, as I’m filling out my own discharge paperwork in the hospital lobby, a runner clad in Luna’s colors arrives. The young mare passes off a ribbon-bound scroll to my ever present guard. I observe the exchange from the corner of my eye, noting with great satisfaction that Wind Whisper does not seem at all amused to be receiving new orders bearing Luna’s seal. She’s nothing but professional in addressing the mare, but she doesn’t bother to hide her rolling eyes once she’s gone.

“Not good news?” I ask, tapping my hoof onto an ink pad provided by the hospital staff and pressing it onto one corner of the last page in the document. The sergeant smirks and shakes her head as she unfurls the scroll. “What’s happened now? A new draconequus has appeared, laying claim to the throne?”

She blinks repeatedly as she mulls over my comment. “What? No!” Shaking her head, Whisper glares back at the door. “It’s only a request from the princesses for you to join them at Helping Hooves Clinic for the Criminally Insane.”

Her words draw a flinch from me, and the quill I’d been using to sign myself out with drops to the ground. “They want me to go where?” I shrill as I whip my head around to stare at her in wide-eyed horror. “Run that by me again.”

The guardsmare doesn’t make eye contact with me; rather, she seems very intent on staring down the receptionist’s window, instead. “They just want to talk, Silver.” After rewrapping the scroll in the ribbon, she tucks it into her armor. Rubbing her temple anxiously, she adds, “Nothing is going to happen.”

My jaw clenches as I snatch the quill back up from the floor. She can’t seriously fucking believe that, can she? “You’re telling me the princesses just want to have a talk.” I snort dismissively as I start signing my name. “In an asylum.”

“Yes,” she says as the final pen stroke goes onto the paper.

“An asylum for the criminally insane,” I reiterate through gritted teeth, just to make myself clear on the issue. “A place where just talking ends with me in a long-sleeve jacket that fastens in the back. A place where I am at the complete mercy of ponies who may or may not be just as bad as the prisoners there. Let’s not forget that I’ve already basically been held on a psych hold!”

“Firstly, Helping Hooves is a very reputable facility; they would never employ any staff that might mistreat their patients,” she answers firmly. “I know your trust in everything official is practically non-existent right now, but I want you to trust in me that they do not want to commit you. Rather, I get the impression they wish to speak to you about what happened yesterday.”

Really? What do they think they’re playing at? “Why, then, do they want to meet me in the nuthatch?” When she doesn’t answer, I smirk back at her. “I don’t see them just handing off control of Equestria to Twilight or Cadance and then committing themselves; do you? No, I thought not.”

It occurs to me that handing off control to somepony might actually be on the agenda at some point down the line, but with Princess Cadance tied up in running the Crystal Empire, and Twilight too inexperienced in the realm of politics, it is rather unlikely to be either of them. Instead, Celestia’s either going to have to figure out a presidential or parliamentary system and urge ponies of like minds to form their own political parties, or she could just state that neither she nor her sister are fit to rule any longer, abdicate, and let her little ponies flail about on the severed apron-strings. While I admit that the inevitable anarchy that would arise from the latter sounds fun, I doubt that Celestia would allow such a thing to happen. Fuck what Luna thinks, for that matter.

For whatever reason, Wind Whisper doesn’t have an answer to the question previously put forth. Instead, she smiles and shakes her head once more. “I give you my word that if they have been dishonest, I will not allow anything to happen, as I am still bound by my word that you will come to no harm while you are under my watch.”

I raise an eyebrow as she walks forth, placing a reassuring a hoof on my shoulder. “Speaking of that, how long do you plan on watching over me like you have?” I glance momentarily at the receptionist on the other side of the pane of glass, and, pushing the paperwork forward, give the window a little tap. “Not that I don’t enjoy the company, but surely you’re getting bored of watching over me.”

Her smile fades slightly, and I can see something in her eyes. “I’ve actually been considering retiring. I’ve put in enough years for a full pension, so it’s not like I’ll be hard pressed for money. I could also transfer into OCS’s training division and make sure another Cutlass never happens again,” she says.

It finally strikes me that the look in her eyes is one of apology. “That being said, I am bound, too, by my oaths as a member of the guard and am still required to follow direct orders from the princesses.” Her hoof’s grip on my shoulder—still a disturbing prospect, these pony hooves—tightens, as does her face. “Trigger.”

A blinding white light fills my eyes, and for the second time in recent history, my atoms are scattered to the wind. I really hate teleporting, now that I think about it.

I brace myself for trouble before the teleport blindness even wears off. She says there’s no reason to expect trouble, but on the same strand of logic, she also said no harm would come to me—that she wouldn’t force me to go somewhere I don’t want to go. She knows that I don’t trust the princesses as far as I can throw them by this point. To force me to see them in a place like this... with magic, no less! The conflicting loyalties are driving me crazy.

Without warning, something is slipped around my neck, and I prepare to lash out if the whatever tightens. Thankfully, the item does not cinch tight around my neck like some sort of restraining collar. Instead, a reassuring hoof comes down on my shoulder, and I hear Whisper’s voice. “Relax, Silver. It’s only a lanyard with your visitor’s pass. You’re safe.” Even though by all rights her voice shouldn’t be soothing, her tone does help calm my nerves. “I simply activated a return spell in the letter, for faster transit, by the way.”

I look down at the card hanging from my neck, and sure enough there I am smiling in prison oranges with the word visitor stamped in bold. “It’s no ‘hitchhikers may be escaping convicts’ sign, but I suppose it’ll do,” I say in a half-joking tone. That gets me a look from the orderly standing in front of me. “Oh hey, I didn’t notice you there. Thanks for this. At least I have a ‘get out of hell’ free card, now.”

Okay, I know it’s a bad idea antagonizing employees of an asylum when I’ve clearly been through multiple traumatic ordeals and arguably belong in such a place, but in my defense, the thought of being in an asylum is my idea of hell for me. For others, it might not be the worst possible outcome, but a place like this is the end of the line as far as I’m concerned. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel at all apologetic as the orderly glares at me.

Regardless of any hurt feelings, an employee of the ‘clinic’ leads us through the winding corridors of this asylum of the damned. We pass through a checkpoint every so often as the level of security increases from wing to wing, repeatedly subjecting us to magical searches. You know, ‘cause clearly I’m going to smuggle a hand grenade inside my vagina. Granted, there are one or two ponies I can think of who might deserve a cunt-bomb.

Eventually, the orderly stops us just past a door following a search at the checkpoint for the wing called ‘Lessons in Mourning’, as if that’s not an ominous place or nothing. Given that we just passed through the ‘That’s not Yours’ wing, I think I have a good idea what sort of pony is housed here. Unsurprisingly, there are two Royal Guards and two Night Guards posted outside the door. The same can be said for the next one down the hall, for that matter.

The door in front of us has observation stenciled on the frosted window, and I’m fairly certain the other door has interview on it. All the pieces settle into place, and suddenly I really don’t want to finish this puzzle. “Nope,” I say firmly, backing up a step. “Not going in there.”

Beside me, my escort sighs. “Silver Script, please... Princesses Celestia and Luna are going to be here all day, and will have even less time as the days go on.” She actually looks pretty anxious. Maybe she recalls her last interaction with Luna. “Certain elements are pushing them to bring Aqua Regia to trial. Before any of that happens, they have no choice but to ensure she’s fit to even appear in court.”

“I do not want to see her, unless she’s being drawn and quartered,” I hiss, taking yet another step back. “She robbed me of my dignity, my self esteem, and most importantly, the pony I love. I may have been merciful when I was half-dead and full of rage, but now, when I’ve had almost a month of living in denial, that mercy is gone.”

Surprisingly, my answer comes not from Whisper, but from the doorway. “Then you will be pleased to hear that Aqua Regia’s assessment has not yet begun,” Celestia says. “Do come in, Silver. We have some time yet before she is to be interviewed.”

Something about her tone tells me that it would be foolhardy to say no. With much unease, I follow Celestia back into the room, noting sourly that Wind Whisper isn’t following. I don’t wait for prompting to take a seat across from Luna. Despite the one-way window into the other room, it’s rather clear that they set the room up for a small meeting between the three of us, and the chairs have been set in a neutral square. It occurs to me that there might be a fourth joining us, given the fourth chair, but any worries are quickly forgotten as Celestia takes a seat.

“Now then,” she says, casually conjuring up some tea, as if she doesn’t see me ready myself for fight or flight. I don’t understand why they continue to use magic around me despite everything that has happened. Is it really so difficult to accommodate a justifiably thaumaphobic mare? “Before we actually begin, I’d like to ask why you think you are here.”

I look cautiously from one to the other, reminding myself that while I have every right to be wary of them, they cannot just make me disappear after taking a stance against corruption and making my very existence public knowledge. “Frankly, my first impression upon hearing the name of this place was that you wanted me locked up,” I say, turning away an offered teacup with a trembling hoof. “When you look at it, it makes sense.

“When I lost my shit before, I tried to murder somepony I respected.” Both royals cringe at my vulgar mouth, but make no indication to curb my vicious tongue. “That’s strike one. I also recall venting rather furiously inside that bubble, causing myself a fair bit of physical harm. That’s strike two.”

I look Celestia directly in the eyes. “Then, after Aqua Regia raped me, murdered Ice Blossom, and desecrated her remains, I viciously beat her. I could have stopped when I gave that bitch a keratotomy, but I had to make sure she’d never forget. That’s strike three. In light of that, I probably belong here.”

Celestia and Luna exchange a worried look. “Then it is both good and bad that it is not the reason we have asked you here,” Luna answers apologetically. “Tell me, did you happen to see Prince Blueblood during the funeral yesterday?”

“Can’t say I remember seeing him.” I look her right in the eye as I say this. I note that they aren’t bothering to run a lie detection spell. Curious, do they not actually care? “What, did the slimeball show up to spread some false sympathy after I left?”

“Blueblood claims that a mare dressed as a unicorn guard assaulted him for no reason at all before he could offer his condolences to the family.” She raises an eyebrow and inclines her head toward the door. “It’s a description that matches the uniform requisitioned by Sergeant Whisper to allow you to leave the hospital unseen, and he seems to think it was you.”

I give her a nasty scowl before looking to Celestia as she sips whatever tea it is she’s drinking. “It sounds like that no-name showed up somewhere he wasn’t wanted and got what he deserved when he ran afoul of a bereaved mourner.” With a shrug, I incline my head back to Luna. “If he’s trying to pin this on me, I’d like to get that bastard locked up for harassment. His family has done enough.”

A curious look lights up Celestia’s eyes. “Why do you think he deserves it?” she asks, emphasizing her interest in my opinion. Her horn lights up with that familiar golden aura, nearly sending me scrambling for cover beneath my chair. When nothing happens, I realize that only now is she testing for honesty. What are they playing at?

Frowning, I look down at my hooves. “He deserves it because he and the rest of his ilk are responsible to some degree for the monster Aqua Regia became,” I say weakly. “When Aqua was... when she was raping me, she kept going on and on about how a mare born into the Blueblood family was only as useful as her connections, that she was just to be another pawn in the political game, without a claim to power.”

“So you blame him for the way that she was raised?” Luna inquires.

“That’s right.” My forehooves grip the edge of the chair as my body begins to quake. “That’s probably the most honest thing she ever said to me, and it had to have been when she... Just how bad was it for mares in that home that would lead her to an all or nothing mentality about changing their family? Was it really bad enough to cause her to become a complete psychopath just because she fucked up?”

“She’s not lying Luna,” Celestia says, turning to her sister as the glow surrounding her horn diminishing. “Or at least she believes it.”

“Indeed,” Luna replies in a whisper that I don’t think is intended to actually be heard. “It even confirms some of our suspicions. But she almost sounds like she pi-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” I growl, the pure hatred in my voice startling the princesses. “Make no mistake. I blame her no less for what she did, but House Blueblood, regardless of whether or not the disownment was at all legitimate, is just as much to blame for her actions.” What I don’t say is that if I don’t see that noble house removed from any sort of power, I have half a mind to see their house up in flames. Literally.

“I-” Whatever Celestia intended to say dies in her throat as I catch sight of movement in the next room. The door opens, and in steps a brown earth pony stallion in a lab coat, followed by a brawny looking unicorn mare in an orderly outfit, and a face I really don’t want to see. Try as I might, though, seeing is no longer a choice. “We were supposed to have another five minutes before the interview began.”

I’m not listening. When Aqua Regia walks in, I have to do a double-take when I see her, to make sure this is the same pony I remember. There’s not even a sign of the damage I did to her horn, which honestly isn’t all that surprising; the whole thing is fucking gone, as though it’s been filed down from the point where I broke it. That’s not the biggest difference, though. Clutched against a light-pink patient’s gown by one of her forehooves is a ragged-looking stuffed rabbit. Puffy-eyed and pigtailed, she looks less like a murderess than she does a frightened child.

“I dun like dis place,” I hear her say through a one-way intercom, and I flinch at her childish tone. “It’s scary. Can we go to da gawden?”

The doctor frowns and shakes his head. “Not right now, Aqua.” His voice isn’t scolding, but there is a displeased edge in his voice. “Remember, we’re here to answer a few questions.” Plaintively, Aqua takes a seat and hugs the rabbit closer to her chest. “Now, do you remember why you’re here today?”

“It’s cuz I snuck a cookie after bedtime, right?” She looks pleadingly at the doctor, glancing anxiously at the orderly every few moments, before bursting into tears. “I pwomise not to do it ‘gain! I dun wanna go o’phanage!”

I scream.

I jerk awake with a start, almost falling out of my bunk on the sleeper car. My throat is parched, and I imagine that is, in itself, a small blessing. After all, the other passengers in this train car would hardly be happy to be awoken with a shrill scream. Ain’t fair of me to torment the other passengers by waking them in the dead of night when it’s so hard to fall asleep on a train to begin with.

Still, I’m on a train out of the fucking madhouse that is Canterlot. Just can’t take that place anymore. Ever since that day, I simply can’t get any sleep. Always reliving that same day in my dreams, night after night. Waking up screaming just wears thin after a few days.

Seriously, though? Why the fuck did they have to have me meet them there if they wanted to ask me whether or not I punted Blueblood? What could they possibly have gained from showing me just how fucking broken Aqua Regia is? Am I supposed to feel bad for my rapist because she was incapable of reconciling what she did and regressed to the mental state of a tormented young filly? For all I know, it could have been a show, and Aqua’s really just trying to buy herself time before going to trial.

I personally don’t know why they were so surprised when I told them to take their money and shove it, telling them never to contact me again. I mean, lately, all I’ve gotten from them is shit. They keep treating me like one of their little ponies, who seem to be able to confront their issues just like that, but they seem to keep forgetting that I wasn’t always a pony. They even know from prior experience that my coping mechanism is to run away from my problems until I’ve had time to come to terms with them—and that was when nothing worse than a life-altering transformation and what was technically rape on the part of Lyra, and Bon-Bon, had affected my life. They should remember what happened the last time I confronted something too soon, so I don’t understand at all why they did that.

It doesn’t matter to me that, just days after that colossal cluster-fuck, House Blueblood was formally dissolved by the crown on grounds of massive corruption, with all proceeds going to charity and Blossom’s family, or that many of the elders of that house are facing child abuse charges, or even that Blueblood himself is being retroactively charged as an accessory to rape. I don’t even give a shit that some of the proceeds from the dissolution ended up in my bank account; I’m just fucking done. All I want to do is get to Ponyville and try to live a normal life.

Groaning, I slide out of my bunk and creep toward the door. It’s late, but I imagine the commissary car is still open for those of a more nocturnal nature, or simply ponies looking for a nightcap. I just hope that there’s a bar in there. It could be very helpful in getting back to sleep. Heck, if memory serves me correctly, while alcoholic beverages can make it easier to nod off, they also impede REM sleep. In other words, no dreams, no memories, and no turncoat Luna.

At least fate has the decency to make my trip to the food car an uneventful one. With all that’s happened—from the very beginning when Lyra raped me and my life—it’s a small miracle that a changeling hasn’t burst out of my vagina, robbed me of what little love I have left, and taken my place. I could even imagine it going undetected for some time, its missteps dismissed as PTSD.

Stepping into the food car, my gut clenches. Lyra... Man, I did not think this through. Maybe it won’t be so bad though. I mean, what happened with her and Bon-Bon was gentle and tender, even if it was nonconsensual. It’s not like either of them would do anything to me now; they have a daughter to take care of. There’s nothing to worry about.

“We’re closin’ up fer a few hours ma’am,” an older earth pony behind the food counter says, as she wipes the surface down with a wash-rag. “Clean-up before the mornin’ rush, ya know?”

I frown and glance back at the door. “So, I wouldn’t be able to order a quadruple shot of scotch?” I ask morosely. “I was rather hoping to get back to sleep without much trouble.”

“If’n yer payin’, cain’t rightly turn ya away.” Smiling, she inclines her head toward one of the stools around the counter. “Pull up a chair ‘n stay awhile. Ya sound like ya need a drink or two.” I half-smile at her demeanor and, climbing up onto the indicated stool, take her up on her offer. “Ya sure ya want straight-up scotch? Ah can whip ya up a cocktail that’ll put a warmth in your belly all the same, without none of the hangover come morn’.”

Eying her apple cutie mark as she pulls a decanter of my chosen poison from a cabinet behind the counter, my smile becomes an honest one. “If it’s an Apple family recipe, you have me sold.”

“Well shucks, almost sounds like ya know a cousin or two.” She begins mixing a beverage, which tastefully includes some apple juice and cordial. “Got some in Ponyville, but it’s a shame Ah cain’t disembark to say howdy.”

“Anypony who doesn’t know an Apple doesn’t know what they’re missing.” The mare mirrors my smile as she slides me a beverage. “Apples are good folk who do right by their kin and their friends, and that’s something you don’t get in a lot of places.” That’s right; even if it doesn’t work out with Lyra, Bon-Bon, or Honeydew, I’ve still got choices. So long as I keep this in mind, I’ll never have to be alone. “I can pass on a greeting to Applejack and them if you want.”

“That sure would be swell, friend,” she replies, returning to her task of wiping down the counter. “So what brings ya down Ponyville-ways, if’n you don’t mind me askin’?”

I give her an appraising glance as I sip at the cocktail before me. Holy shit, that’s strong stuff! I flinch slightly as the overly strong bite of the beverage burns my throat, and I realize that I am way too used to low alcohol per volume beverages like cider for this. Either that, or she mistook vodka for the scotch—one of the two.

Noting my flinch, she eyes me warily. “Ya don’t have ta if’n it brings ya pain,” she says softly, seemingly jumping to the wrong conclusion. “Ah know how hard it can all be when ya have somethin’ ya just want to run an’ hide from, but mah pa always used to say talkin’ does wonders for ya.”

“What would you like to hear?” I ask almost bitterly, staring at my drink. “I could say that I’m running away from an abusive relationship to return to the closest thing I have to a family or herd and leave it at that. Wouldn’t be a lie in the strictest sense, either. What I’ve been through, though...” Returning my gaze to her face, my eyes grow steely. “What happened to me, I wouldn’t wish anybody to have to hear about, never mind have happen to them. Still, it is easier to talk to someone who isn’t knee-deep in everything... Just, what I have to say, it’s going to be horrible, and it could very well haunt you to the end of your life.”

The apple mare behind the bar smiles at me as she gets a glass and a bottle of cider. It’s not a condescending smile or one with the implication that there’s nothing I could tell her that could faze her. Instead it’s a tired, world weary one that says that she’s carrying a number of such stories with her. “Ah don’t doubt it,” she says, pouring herself a bit. “Ya look like ya could use a talk more than Ah could use sleep.”

So I tell her everything, from the very beginning with Lyra changing my life. I just talk while we drink. There’s no emotion in my voice at all through my retelling, given how tired, angry, and genuinely numb I feel over this all. It probably helps that the alcohol kept my mind unfocused enough that I didn’t immediately devolve into hysterics. The entire time, she just listens, a horrified look never leaving her face, even as she pours us both refills.

The sun is already rising by the time I’m finished, and my listener is even more intoxicated than I am at that point. When we pull into the station, I stagger back to my bunk in the sleeper car to get my things; not my chest of belongings and supplies—those are being shipped to me later—just my saddlebags. When I finally step out onto the train platform, a heavy thought occurs to me.

“Feels like home, but I s’pose time’ll tell,” I whisper.

Author's Notes:

Is it really home? See the next chapter for details!

Thanks to Fourpony, Refro, E3gner and of course NightmareKnight for the help. Sorry it took so long for your help to be publicized on this one.