Rarity picked up the Manehattan newspaper, the Star, from the table as she sipped her morning tea at the breakfast table. Across from her, Sweetie Belle chattered on about cutie marks and her plans for the day. Try as she might, Rarity couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness and regret whenever her sister had brought up cutie marks. The filly of course had picked up on it, but Rarity had never explained why the topic had become depressing for her. She was honestly wondering if Sweetie hadn’t come to the conclusion that it was her obsession with cutie marks that worried her older sister.

It had been almost six months since she’d burned Flora and sent her away to Manehattan with the magic of the Amulet, and she still was unsure what to think. Almost automatically, she felt her gaze drawn to the top of the refrigerator, where a small box was safely out of the sight of curious fillies. The Amulet had been something she’d picked up in a curio shop on a trip to Canterlot, and had been the whole basis for coming up with the idea of Flora’s Gala.

She knew she’d been a fool to ignore the shopkeeper’s warnings of a corrupting influence. Not only had she allowed the trinket to skew her thoughts and become obsessed with revenge, she’d even gone as far as to commit some of the most heinous crimes known to Equinity: mind control and tampering, rape, forced impregnation—murder even. No matter how her corrupted mind had tried to skew it as generosity, she knew nopony would see it the same way. Her selfish and petty desire for revenge had lead her to become a monster.

She’d been so sickened by what she’d done that night that after sending Flora away, she’d torn the Amulet from her neck and hid in her room for three days straight, turning away any visitors. Eventually she’d calmed down enough to clean up the scene of the crime, but the amulet had sat untouched for a further week. Every time she looked at it, she was reminded of what she was... and her parents trusted her with Sweetie Belle!

“So why do you always read that Manehattan newspaper now, Rarity?” Sweetie Belle—sweet, innocent Sweetie Belle—asked, noting her sister’s dour countenance.

“Oh, Rarity is—” she faltered. “I’m just checking for news of a friend.” It was a lie that would be obvious to anybody but a foal. She’d subscribed to the newspaper almost immediately after her depression out of guilt, hoping for any news about her. “She moved out to Manehattan ages ago, claiming she was going to make it big.”

A curious look crossed her younger sibling’s eyes. “But... surely I would have met her before, right?” Sweetie prodded, unconvinced. “I mean, you had to have been super close to be that eager to hear news... and if that’s the case, why wouldn’t you just write her a letter?”

A feigned smile creased Rarity’s face as she silently cursed her sister’s brightness. She’d definitely need to watch what she said around Sweetie. The poor girl was too innocent to know just how badly her sister had fallen. “She’s a friend I met while in Canterlot, dear. You wouldn’t know her,” she explained. Raising an eyebrow, she glanced at the clock. “Don’t you need to be getting to school, darling?”

“Oh no! I’m late!” Sweetie squealed, ignoring the rest of her breakfast.

The little white filly scampered out of the kitchen, and a few moments later, Rarity heard the front door slam shut. Allowing herself a sigh, she shook her head. “If her daughters are anything like her, I don’t envy Flora.”

Without her sister to distract her, she turned her attention to the newspaper in front of her. “Manehattan Foalnapper Caught!” she read aloud. So the headline was an update on the string of foalnappings plaguing Manehattan for almost a month. “It’s about time! I can’t imagine what it would be like for Flora if that predator were still active when she’s due.”

In a bizarre twist of fate, the Manehattan Foalnapper, already being called the ‘Broodmare’ by police, was arrested yesterday when she was caught leading one of a number of missing foals away from a playground, back to a warehouse in the seedy part of town. The ‘Broodmare’ was in fact a heavily pregnant unicorn mare [see section A2 for mugshots] with no prior criminal records, or even registration with the city of Manehattan. Police are already sending information requests to other cities, but are not hopeful.

Rarity’s stomach sank as she read the words ‘pregnant unicorn mare,’ and quickly leafed through the newspaper to section A2. Upon seeing the photographs printed on the page, she let out a small scream. Those burns—those cloven ears—were unmistakable. There on the page was Flora, a disconcerting smile gracing her face. “This has to be some sort of mistake!” she told herself, flipping back to the article. “A bad dream, even.”

When approached by peace officers, the foal cowered near the mare, afraid not of her, but apparently of the police. According to the officers, the foal hid behind her, calling her mommy. Indeed, all of the foals—seventeen fillies and colts all under the age of five—recovered from the warehouse seemed to believe her to be their mother.

Currently, she is being held on eighteen charges of foalnapping, possible charges of mind tampering, and—if rumors of the foals all smelling of milk and arousal are to be believed—numerous counts of aggravated foal molestation. When arrested, her only response was ‘Please don’t take my babies from me!’ Given the mare’s apparent psychological state, she has been remanded to the high security wing of the Clearwater mental institution pending assessment, trial, and further investigation.

“Oh no,” Rarity moaned, burying her head in her hooves. There was going to be an investigation! She’d been so certain that she’d tied up all the loose ends, but what if they found something she missed? It would only be a matter of time before they found her. Her family and friends would be disgraced... and her sister... Sweetie would hate her forever, and rightly so.

She knew then that she would rot in prison while they tried her—not just for rape, mind control, and assault with the intent to maim, but possibly treason and attempted regicide—before sentencing her to death. The trial could possibly go on until she was a gray old mare. The supposed ‘best years of her life’ would be spent in prison.

Strangely, none of this bothered her. She’d come to this realization on the second night of her depression all those months ago, and come to terms with it just as quickly. She was upset because she realized that she hadn’t just ruined one pony’s life; she’d ruined the lives of eighteen—nineteen if they even allowed Flora to carry to term—foals... and that said nothing of how she’d ruined Flora so. She’d made her into that crazed foal abductress, and made her addicted to caring for children.

Rarity glanced at the top of the fridge again before levitating down the little wooden box. She set it down on the table and stared at it for a few heartbreaking moments. Pushing it aside, she summoned up a quill and ink, and wrote.

Dear Sweetie Belle,

Something’s come up, and I am unfortunately required to leave Ponyville for a time. Please take the box and the letter attached to it straight to Twilight Sparkle. She will know what to do with it. In the meantime, be a good, strong filly and do what Twilight tells you until Mother and Father come back. I love you so very much, Sweetie, and Mom and Dad too. I’m so sorry I had to leave on such short notice.

~Rarity

P.S. Please take good care of Opal for me.

Contented with her letter to her sister, she quickly wrote out her confession to Twilight, sparing none of the details, and then another note, instructing her to go to the police with the box and her confession. She knew then that Twilight and the rest of her friends would hate her for what she’d done, and even more for the way she went out. She accepted that openly. She was a monster that deserved to die.

With only a cursory glance at the knife block on her kitchen counter, Rarity went upstairs and drew up a hot bath. She was going to Tartarus very soon, so she may as well get used to the heat.

Author's Note

"Seven, why did you write this vicious piece of literature?"
I suppose an explanation is necessary here.

I hang out in a Skype group populated by a number of popular authors as well as those who have their hands in a number of stories via editing. Needless to say, many of them have written or are known for writing clop. For a pervert like me, it's easy to find myself coming up with all sorts of perverse ideas for clopfics. It's the place that lead to me coming up with Buttonette, Button Mash, and it's the place that lead to me writing this. They just help get my juices going, yeah? Okay, yeah, that's pushing it.

For many people, rape is an uneasy subject. It's a serious crime that has serious ramifications on people's lives, so why then have I written no less than two stories involving rape? I suppose in part it's a bit of fascination with the things that leave their scars on people's psyches, and what leads people to doing things like that. It's why I enjoyed Kaidan's "Carnage Murder Crew" story. His story was about the why, whereas my story is about the endgame of a serious obsession. I do not make light of rape victims; indeed, I feel nothing but sympathy and respect. What they've gone through, I can only begin to imagine. In fact, that's why I write it: to better understand.

As for this 'Happy Ending', I wrote the ending this way because it seemed to work best. The way Rarity had reprogrammed 'Flora' left opening for a lot of outcomes because of vagueness in wording. Rarity killing herself? Sometimes, I just really hate that mare. Especially when she reprograms ponies and turns them into crazed broodmares who get sexual release from nurturing children, y'know?

I hope this story was as much an adventure for all of you as it was for me to write.