Game of Ponies: Frozen Ashes

Get out of here, were the only words coursing through her mind, her rainbow mane matted and wet, sticking to her head. Her eyes glazed, half shut, staring almost lifelessly at the pitch darkness in front of her. The air thick and moist, almost a substance. Its entirety enveloping whatever poor soul was locked up in this dungeon, encasing them in heavy wetness that both burned and slowed the body, draining it of all its fluids. The stone floor damp with liquid, whether it was water was unknown.

Her fore hooves shackled by thick iron clamps, hanging off chains a meter or so above her. She sat on the floor with one of her hind hooves spread, and the other one slightly curled, pointing upwards, her body felt depleted of any of the left over energy she had after the battle. The images of the stallions she ruthlessly ended were flashing through her mind, the first one decapitated from a lethal swing of her blade, he attacked her first she thought, it was a necessary move. The second, stabbed through the neck, streams of blood spewed from him as he sputtered blood on her armor, it was his fault for not being quick enough she told herself. The last stallion, this one defeated by the hidden advantage of being a Pegasus. She cut his stomach open like a butcher would fillet a fish. His guts and gore gushing forth, coating the dusty ground. The look on his face, of shock, of terror... of brutal, undying pain of watching, with your one working eye, a warrior slice you open.

He asked... no, begged, for a mercy killing, to go out like a true warrior. She lowered her head, pondering why she did what she did, quickly realizing that it was for show. She needed to, she needed to impress the king, his guards, the hundreds of spectators. This was what she needed to do to live, for the king to let her free. No, that is not what happened, she's back in the dungeon, darkness enveloping her mind as it dwells inside this room.

A sudden creak of the door somewhere in front of her disrupted any ongoing thought encompassing her mind. A loud metallic clank bounced around the solid stone walls before settling. A sudden flash of light emerged a few meters in front, it blinded her completely causing her to look away shutting her eyes tightly. A black outline stood tall at the entrance, his body clearly padded with some sort of armor. Dash rattled her cuffs, trying lightly to tug on them before the door shut, an abrupt pitch blackness overcame the room once more, however, not for long.

A torch was lit at the dead center of the room, the face of the tall stallion being illuminated by the bright flame. He made his way to the right of the stone wall, placing the torch into what seemed to be a crevice. He hastily lit another, walking to the opposite side, placing the other torch down into the left crevice. The flames burning brighter than she's ever seen, her eyes taking more than a few moments to adjust. The entire room, lit, dimly, but lit.

As her eyes adjusted, she noticed a wooden bench just a few steps to the left of her chained up body. Her fore hooves hanging limply, the only thing keeping them up were the cuffs. She looked at the figure, his entirety much clearer now. It was that same stallion, the one who stood next to the king during the battle in the arena. A flash of anger coursed through her body, but she steadied herself and looked down at the now visible ground. He had greyish-white coat, his black mane combed back, making his entire face visible. It wasn't scarred or beaten, not a hint of strife in his eyes. He wore an ornate leather vest, a pin on the right side of his chest glimmered. It was a hoof, a lightning bolt going through it, made from delicate white gold. He sat down on the bench, and slowly turned his head to observe the cyan mare in front of him, weak, deprived, and hungry.

"I am Rodrick Ordarion, of House Lazirus. I am the king's hoof." He stated, bluntly, while looking at the back of Dash's mane. She raised her head slightly, turning it to her right observing the stallion seated next to her.

"Is that..." She croaked, she stopped herself and swallowed whatever saliva she had left in her mouth, "is that where I am?" she asked.

Rodrick nodded, "Yes" he replied shifting on his uncomfortably rock seat. "House Lazirus," he began, "the house of the god of thunder." She peered up at him wearing a slightly confused expression.

"We follow him." He added, as she gave a brisk nod and turned her head back down to the stone floor. Her hair dripped onto the ground, making the only noise emanating through the entire room. Rodrick leaned back and sighed, his eyes facing the closed doorway.

"What are you doing here, foreigner?" He asked, eyeing her once more.

She didn't respond, looking at the wet ridged surface of the floor. He asked again, "Why are you here?"

"I'm not a foreigner." She responded, her voice cracking as she exhaled and gave a coarse cough. Rodrick gave a light chuckle, "Clearly, you are." He responded, almost jokingly.

"What makes you say that?" She peered at him, eyeing his body, trying to see if he was armed.

"Either all you outlanders are dumb bitches, or you are just a special case." He responded, giving the back of her head a light tap. She jolted forward and strained herself against her cuffs, rattling them as he gave a smirk. "You... ponies, all of you are so... colorful."

Her rainbow mane stuck to her face, almost completely covering her eyes. She flicked her head sideways, trying to move it out of her face so she could see better. He leaned down, placing his hoof on her face and moving it out of her eyes. "There" he said, giving a minor smile. She closed her eyes and leaned against the walls, staring at the flames.

"What do you want?" she said, not even giving him a glance.

"You foreign mares never live long..." he said, his voice trailing off.

"Try seven years." She said, turning her head, looking and examining him.

"Ahh, yes, you were with the fleet all that time ago, what happened?" He asked, a genuine curiosity in his voice. His hoof reaching down and lightly stroked her mane.

"Why does it matter?" She replied pushing her head away. She tugged at her cuffs again, the bolted in chains dripping water, flakes of rust from them drifted to the floor.

"Now now... no reason to be hostile. I've heard, tales upon tales of you foreigners, some say you came here to start a war... others say the foreigners came to make peace, for what? I'm still not sure." He exhales heavily, awaiting a response. Dash just stared, bluntly, unemotionally, at the floor. The silence filled the room, the flames crackled and popped quietly.

"There's this one..." he started speaking, his hoof placed at the back of her head," her story spread across the land like wildfire. Have you heard it?"

"I have. No. Idea. Who you are talking about." Dash responded, trying to move her head away from his hoof.

"Ahh... well I thought you would!" He exclaimed, "after all, rumors say she came on your ship!"

"You believe in rumors, no wonder you are just the kings hoof." She replied, shocking Rodrick.

"The king’s hoof is a very honorable position in house Lazirus, you shouldn't show disrespect." He answered, almost slightly feebly.

"Go fuck yourself you pathetic prick." She uttered, just loud enough that he heard every stinging word.

"Watch your tongue bitch, before I cut it out and make you swallow it." He gazed down at her, giving a light smirk at the chained mare.

"What the fuck do you want?" she blurted out once more.

"This mare, from the story, she came on your fleet, captured the moment she set her hooves on the ground. Snatched up, right away by the Order of the Dragon. Those miserable fuckers... if we took her, we would have treated her well."

"Like you treat me?" She snapped.

"With respect, and dignity," he continued, ignoring her comment, " Not like those Ysellian's, I’m telling you, they may worship whatever-the-fuck dragons pop out of their heads, but when it comes to treating a pony, they are brutes."

Dash tugged at her chains once more, and peered up at him, his eyes were on the flames to the left. "What did they do?" she asked, a transparent tone of how little she cared showing visibly.

"Well, tale has it that they locked her up in a cellar hundreds of meters beneath the ground, starving, sick, and weak, she somehow convinced the guards that she was not a foreigner, but in fact that she was a resident of a small island off the southern coast." He chuckles under his breath, "well, next thing she knows she's being dragged in front of the king. But the king... that dumb bastard falls for anything. He buys her little story, apologizing like the gracious cunt he his." He flicked his hoof, "Next thing you know, they are fucking each other’s brains out like a bunch of yearlings.

"So, neither of them were seen for the next few days, and when they finally came out, the king remembering that he has a kingdom to rule, walked out onto the terrace of his enormous palace to meet his followers with his new mare. Silence, complete and utter silence. Almost as if time stopped, the entirety of the kingdom, their mouths agape at what they called the most beautiful mare they have ever seen."

He paused for a moment, Dash still looking, unblinking, at the floor below her. Yet her ears more open than ever, as she was invisibly eager to hear more.

"Twelve days later she announced she was pregnant, but, here's the interesting bit, the king, as all the medics in his kingdom have told him, is unable to produce children. But before their very eyes, ten months later, she started giving birth." He leans back sighing lightly, "The sterile king just produced his child. But rumors had it he was taking the Essence of Polin, so the foal came out deformed, ugly, the king could not bear to have him present. Right in front of this mare, he slit the babies throat.”

Dash clamped down at her tongue, resisting the urge to speak as he continued. "Not killed, but exiled from the kingdom, getting thrown out like a used up ragdoll. Only a couple hundred loyal followers stayed at her side, one in particular she took a liking too. With him, for years they searched and gained more followers, the story is she didn't leave one town, village, even brothel un-approached by the saying 'You bow to no one.'."

"Isn't that the line of the Free Kingdom?" Dash asked quietly.

"No," he turned his head back to her, "they are a much different story... but anyway, after what had to be three years of searching the south, she went to a trade city by the name of Vallake. There she finally showed her gift of trade, to this day it remains a mystery on how she bought forty thousand armed soldiers, some even trained in Velerus." he exclaimed. "It's unimaginable, her beauty, and mind is something worth fighting for."

"Is she still alive?"

"Is she still alive?" He repeats, slightly taken back before giving a brief chuckle, "have you heard of Esics? The richest kingdom in all of the land." He says, his voice raising. "Is she still alive... she's their empress."

Dash sighed, scanning her eyes across her tightly bound hooves. "Why are you telling me this?" She asked.

"They say, she has not slept with a stallion since the king tore open her foal's neck." He responds, ignoring her question again. "That's my dream..." His voice trails off.

"Your dream is to become the hoof of foreigner pony?" Dash replied insultingly.

"No, my dream is to find her, and fuck the living shit out of her before I slit her throat like the foreigner dog she is." He stood up from his bench, before kneeling down next to her and lifting her head so their eyes meet. "What about you?"

"What?"

He leans closer to her, sniffing around her neck and whispers into her ear dryly, "have you ever seen a real stallion, let alone been fucked by one?" The pace of his breath increases, his eyes darting all over her, hungry with lust.

She looks up at him, directly into his eyes, "No, but when I do i'll send him over so you can take notes." She snapped back through her gritted teeth. Rodrick's eyes widened as he stepped back slightly, only after a few brief moments of shock, his expression changed to anger.

He vigorously cocked his hoof back, throwing blow after blow at her right cheek letting out grunts of anger. After four consecutive shots he stared her, her face turned sideways, a slow stream of blood leaking out of her mouth. A cough broke the silence, then another, and then another. She spat down to the floor as she looked at him again, the same expression on her face, "maybe he could teach you how to punch too." she uttered.

She saw it coming, but was still caught off guard, a fist as hard as rock smashed into her stomach like a rogue freight train. Letting out a guttural groan she coughed up more blood, gasping for air, yet the oxygen eluded her grasp. She sputtered, heaving heavily as she felt her organs shifted upwards.

He didn't give her time to breath, with a single swift motion he sprang at her crippled being raising her against the wall with his hoof to her neck. He pressed his muzzle onto her hers, looking angrily at her. "I could fuck you right now, and no one would ever know." he said through his teeth.

"They'd know..." is all she could sputter, throwing a few specks of blood onto his face.

"Why? Are ya loud?"

"Fuck. You." She uttered, her eyes half open.

His smirk didn't fade this time, it only widened as he was bloodshot with rage and lust. "Let’s find out." He blurted out, without pausing he thrust her lower and hit her face against the stone wall turning her body so her back hooves were standing, flank facing outwards.

"Get the fuck off me..." she voiced, her voice slightly trembling. He threw his hoof at her rib cage, it bashed into her a few cracks shattering the rooms peace. She let out a shriek of pain and writhed against her chains as she felt razor sharp edges of her cracked rib cage dig into her organs. "Get the FUCK off me she howled, her voice echoing throughout the cellar. He wrapped his hoof around her chest crushing her splintered rib cage more. Through her agonizing shrieks blood rushed out of her mouth splattering against the wall.

She recoiled her right hind hoof back, before straitening completely as hard as she could bucking anything behind her, she felt it impact something hard, the angry grunts of the stallion perched up on her back, his body pressing against her's, went silent. She felt a few warm squirts of liquid spray against her hoof as she turned her head behind her. Rodrick let go of her chest, placing his fore hooves on the wall, his eyes bloodshot and wide as can be. She looked down, a bloody stump where his stallion-hood should be spurted dark crimson all over the floor. His breathing was quick as he plainly looked into her eyes, another silence enveloped the room.

He straightened his fore hooves, the ones against the wall, and fell to the ground. Those split seconds while he was falling, the silence felt quieter than a graveyard... his mutilated member laying peacefully at rest a meter or two from her, covered in a dark layer of blood.

The second he hit the floor, the silence was destroyed, a blood curdling wail erupted from his mouth, veins jutting out visibly through his thin coat. His back arching forward as he hit his hoof repeatedly against the ground, his horrifying scream seemingly unending. She just stared at him, his entire body in sight as he kicked and yelled, not able to pronounce a single word through his harrowing pain. The sound tore through the light and back again on to the point where it began, it was angry and filled with fear and rancor towards the mare before his eyes. Her gaze was only interrupted by the thunderous banging at the door.

"What the fuck is going on in there?" A vehement shout emanating from behind the door, but not for long. It flew open colliding with the wall causing dust and small rocks to pour from the ceiling. Two heavily armored guards ran in and picked up Rodrick by his fore hooves. His screeching didn't stop, a trail of cardinal fluid followed from below him as they dragged his kicking and writhing body away. Just as quick as it opened, one of the guards slammed the door closed causing the right torches flame to extinguish.

With a single light brightening the room, she lowered her body, and gently sat down in the position she was in before, groaning in intense pain. She thought about letting her eyes pour, but stopped herself, she looked at the only barely visible door, the screams of the stallion no longer heard.

"Fuck you! No longer a REAL fucking stallion are ya? She screamed at the door, before leaning her head back and panting, every breath drawing blood up her throat and a torturous flinch of pain. She let out another shriek, this time in anger, in weakness, yelling as loud as she could onto the floor trying to restrain the tears building up at her eyes. She exploded with another one, and another, and another, gritting her teeth and yelling. She felt her heartbeat at her temple, as her muzzle leaked a string of blood.

"Fuck you..." She mouthed one last time, and stared blankly at the door, the images of what just happened running through her mind, clouding her judgment.

Fluttershy lay on a crimson blanket to the very right of the room, the tent she was in was much larger inside than what it looked on the outside. The residence of Gregor Bloodfury, the Juht of the Clan of Chaos, more barbarian than civilized, more nomadic than settled, more beast than stallion. He lay on the other side of her, staring blankly at the drawings painted on the inside of the tent. Between them, three load-bearing wooden bars, some tribal decor, and a single dwindling fire. The neutral coloring of the walls caused the flame to reflect dancing shadows on them.

"You need sleep," his rough voice echoing throughout the tent. Fluttershy simply covered her face with her hooves, and whimpered lightly, the reply he was waiting for was surely not coming. He turned his head to her, "You need sleep," he spoke up, making sure she could hear him. A quiet squeak came from her corner, he glanced over, looking at the balled up pile of fur to his left. He briskly stood up and made his way over to her, towering over her looking directly at her hoof-covered eyes.

"You are not going to survive." He stated, his expression stern. Fluttershy balled up tighter, trying to avoid his gaze. "Listen," he began, "I'm not here to rape you, to kill you, I’m here to sell you." He stood for a few more moments, awaiting a response. Nothing. "Do you want to survive?" He asked her, his brow furrowing, an expression of annoyance starting to spread across his face. Fluttershy nodded lightly before putting her second hoof over her eyes, as if one wasn't enough. "Then let me tell you, out there, once the sun rises. If you do not keep your eyes open, your lips closed, at whatever you might see, I cannot guarantee your safety."

"I know..." A voice, high pitched, soft, and full of fear spoke.

"Good, now sleep." He responded.

The morning sun dawned over Wyverncliff, its beams cascading across the barbarian encampment, almost making the place seem warm, comforting, and peaceful. Gregor stepped out of his tent, scanning the outside, eyeing every single stallion and mare bustling around and shouting. He signaled Fluttershy, who was standing frightened behind him, to step forward. His plated leather armor glinted in the sunlight, its cracked skin beaten and worn in the countless fights it has seen.

As they walked, many of the inhabitants eyed Fluttershy, staring at her petite physique. Her head was constantly staring at the ground, trying her best to avoid the gaze of the hundreds they were walking past. Gregor was walking at a steady pace a few steps in front of her, his demeanor stern and angry. A few of the onlookers called out, yelling harsh words at Fluttershy, half of which she did not even understand. Each one still piercing her soft skin like a spear, making her leak tears instead of blood. Gregor has done this countless times, finding a slave mare, one he could sell for a few marks. It was the Juht's job after all, to provide his population with what they needed. Growing up in the Clan of Chaos, they needed two things, Food, and weapons.

As they arrived at the southern edge of Wyverncliff, Gregor scanned the lush green fields of grass that lay before him. His eyes slowly moving from left to right trying to find the oncoming merchant. The sun covered half the land in a blanket of light, so bright that no ponies eyes could stand to look at it. However, the other half was perfectly lit, a remarkable vibrant color emanating from every section of land. The ripe verdant grass, the monochrome sapphire ocean, even the soil, had a certain beauty, a certain effervescence that made it seem peaceful. Shrouding the unimaginable amount of blood the land drank under all this beauty. Gregor stood tall, his brow furrowed, his eyes unwavering, set on making this deal. His hooves planted firmly into the ground, the cowering yellow mare behind him looked feebly at the allure in front of her eyes neglecting to even glance at the frightening war-scarred stallion.

His eyes locked onto the approaching chariot, its body made up almost of complete pure gold. Surrounded by eight soldiers, donning gilded krotanium chest pieces, sat the merchant. He wore a noblemen's outfit, a finely embroidered tunic, trimmed with gold. His heavily product infused hair stood still, its pale blue ocean-like waves extending backwards. Unlike his mane, his small twirled mustache blew in the wind as his chariot, getting pulled by two of his guards, moved towards Gregor's position. Stopping a few meters in front of Gregor, the golden chariot let out a slight screech as its jewel encrusted wheels stopped.

The merchant signaled one of the guards, and got out of the chariot. His eyes, a mesmerizing azure, as he proceeded to make his way to Gregor, whom was clearly unimpressed. With a light grin, the merchant stopped, and eyed the one mare standing gingerly behind Gregor.

"Gregor!" The merchant exclaimed, "How's barbarian life? Murderous, frightening, filled with death, blood, and rape I assume?" He said sarcastically not expecting a response. "Is this who you brought? Well, she is clearly not the usual filthy bitch you drag me out here to gaze at. Impressive," he looked at Gregor quizzically, "now have you just gotten lucky... or have you finally started sifting the gold from the dirt?"

"We found her on a beached ship, by the tendrils." Gregor responded coarsely, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

"Ahh well then... isn't she just precious? “He signaled Fluttershy to stand, "Your compatriots haven’t raped her yet have they?" He asked.

"No... She’s clean."

"I would think! If they would have, she would be dead by now! Anyway, I’ll give you five hundred marks for her Gregor, that's more than twice what I give you for the usual filth you bring me."

"Watch your tongue, or you may not leave with it." Gregor snapped back at the merchant, his stare penetrating the white-coated merchants.

"Always the cynic aren't you Gregor? Now, where are you from sweetheart?" He asked Fluttershy, who was now on her hooves, looking down at the floor pawing at it softly. She paused once she heard the question, and shut her eyes. The merchant smirked, "Isaac!" he yelled back, and one of the guards stepped forward.

"Yes, M'lord?"

"Where are you from?"

"Redgate, M'lord."

"Aha! Fantastic!" He looked back at Fluttershy, "See? Nothing to be afraid of, where are you from?" He asked once more. She looked away, letting out a high pitched squeak before responding.

"Equ-Equestria."

The merchant's grin faded, as he looked at her, and then at Gregor. "I-i... let me introduce myself," He began, "I am Franz Willard, one of the few lords of Esics, the richest kingdom in all of the land!" He exclaimed, regaining his composure. He looked back at Fluttershy, "So five hundred marks yes?"

With a slight nod to one of the guards behind him, he reached into his tunic, pulling out a single coin. Its color was changing as he moved it around on his hoof, first pitch black, then bright orange, yellow, green, blue. "This is the coin of Atremidius, also known as the god of trade. I give it to everyone whom I make a bargain with, as a token of my gratitude." He told Fluttershy, before flicking it over to Gregor who just peered down at it. "I'm willing to bet that Gregor here, keeps all of them since we are such good friends." Franz told Fluttershy jokingly.

"Each one sharp enough to slit a prick stallion's throat." Gregor replied bluntly, before stomping his hoof down onto the ground crushing the coin.

Franz nodded, "I see... well anyway! Come on Fluttershy, let’s go." He motioned, and turned around beginning to walk over to the chariot. Gregor's stern expression curved slightly up, his mouth revealing a slight smirk as he stepped forward.

"Ten thousand!" He called out to Franz.

"Excuse me?" Franz stopped and turned around.

"You will give me ten thousand marks for her, no less." Gregor said, more commanding than asking.

Franz did a double-take before responding, "Has the sun finally gotten to you, Gregor?"

Without hesitation or warning, Gregor rushed over to Franz, almost knocking him over and leaning in, "She didn't say her name did she?" He roared through gritted teeth, sending chills down Franz's spine. Just as quickly as he approached, Gregor turned back around and began walking away, pushing her back with a hoof telling her to follow him. Franz, in shock, hesitated for a moment, staring at the stallion walking away.

"Fine!" He called out, "Ten thousand! I'll need time!"

"You have five moons!" He yelled back at Franz before stopping, and turning back around completely, "If you are not here by then, don't bother searching for her." He said, his tone threatening and as brusque as sandpaper. Franz didn't respond, he only looked grimly at the now trotting away barbarian.

"She's valuable cargo!" He yelled at Gregor, who just disappeared into the cluster of huts and bustling tribesponies.

As quick as ever, he galloped back to his chariot, the guard opening the door for him. "Take me back, now!" He commanded the stallion he called Isaac.

"Yes, M'lord" Isaac responded.

"Don't call me that." Franz shot back, "I've been called many names, Franz, Fancy pants, but lord... that will never sit right with me. Now let’s go, the empress would want to hear about this."

The heavy door creaked open once more, shining blinding light through it. Dash shielded her eyes as much as she could, her body still bruised and beaten. The unbearable stench of already decomposing flesh filled the room, its air already thick and moist. Spending... however many days had past, in this cellar was something she never thought she could endure. The constant pain, coursing through her body, getting strung up on chains, the fur on her hooves shredded off where the iron clamps lay. Her shattered rib cage caused splinters of bone to impale themselves into her organs, she coughed up blood often, every time with a deafening cry as the agonizing pain shot through her body causing her to spasm uncontrollably. Her sweaty coat, mixed with her own blood and Rodrick's, was unkempt. Its wholeness being stained, smelling of bile and gore.

"Kill me... do it..." She croaked, her breathing staggered and short. The blood around her mouth dry, and her cheek swollen with infection.

A guard entered the room, donning pitch black armor, "The king requires your presence, unshackle her." The guard said, another one stepped into the room from behind him. He walked over to Dash's body, it's being fetid. He slowly unclasped the first chain, letting her right hoof dangle loosely, and then the second one. Her body collapsed onto the floor, she shrieked in excruciating pain, letting out whimpers every time she coughed. Her voice had gone twice over, only wheezing and coughing noises came out of her raw, dry, and scratched throat. The guards picked her up by her forehooves, dragging her limp body out the door, shutting it in front of her.

Her entirety was drained, almost as if every single feeling and emotion was ripped out of her body, leaving only the torturous pain that seemed to deteriorate her body from the inside. Her vision was blurry, nothing was clear, wherever she was going, to see this king who locked her up in this hellhole... she knew one thing. She was going to slit his throat.