Broken

Broken: Prologue

"Out of the Deluge"

The rain poured outside, coming down in rampant sheets that pummeled the window before his eyes. He took a sip of the coffee he had made, giving a faint sigh of relief at the warmth that flooded into his numb body.

"Whatever the weather team is thinking is insane." He muttered to nopony in particular, watching a passing carriage headed to Luna-knew-where this time of night. A silver glow enveloped the coffee mug, keeping it at his side and ready whenever he felt the need for another warming sip. As it stood, he'd need more than just one to get through the night. The bitter liquid bit into his tongue, surely leaving behind a minute burn. He was more used to them than he should have been.

The rain continued unabated, and the lonely stallion stood watching it come down. It was a strange relationship the two of them had. He would remain inside, away from its chilling touch, and it would stay outside, where it could not soak him. He would often grumble about how much he hated the rain, how it made the air muggy and was a nuisance if ever he got caught outside in it, but in all truthfulness, he loved the sound of it. The static, relaxing melody the drops played as they drummed against the Study window were a balm on nights like this, when sleep was as fickle as a wanton mistress of the night with other better-looking suitors after her.

So there they were. A lonely stallion and the rain. She was a wonderful partner to have on such a night, and he found myself wondering what secrets she concealed. It was damnably difficult to see far in the rain, but through the distorted surface of the window pane, he tried to delve deeper into her trove of delicious secrets. 'What wonders would this rain hold for me? What would I see out there, in the murky night lit only by the solitary street lamp burning resolutely away, as if to spite the liquid that would spell that fickle flame's doom were it not for the protective cover immediately over its head?'

The night had her secrets, and Lavender Sky had his. They seldom shared them out of mutual respect for one another's privacy, but every now and again, the night volunteers information. Sometimes that particular tidbit is an unsolicited invasion of privacy that takes weeks if not months to forgive. Others, it may be a passing interesting note; something to be mentioned in casual conversation with someone at market.

Every once in a while, the night throws something into Lavender's lap and says 'Here. It's your problem now.'

Tonight was one of those nights.

The pounding at the door came so unexpectedly he almost dropped his coffee. The light-brown liquid froze midair as Lavender's horn blazed to life, freezing the cup and its contents mid-fall. Taking a soft breath, he scooped the static liquid out of midair and into the cup, saving both carpet and hooves from a scalding avalanche of stains.

"Who in the blazes could that possibly be...?" He grumbled, setting the still-full mug of coffee on his nearby desk and leaving the office. "Honestly, pounding on doors at-" He consulted the clock in the foyer. "One in the morning. Shameful." The pounding came again, though unless he was mistaken, the sound of a hoof scraping over the aged mahogany punctuated the cascade of blows. 'Now they're scraping their hooves on my door!' Angrily, Lavender threw the door open.

"Now who in their right bloody mind-"

Into his lap came the biggest problem of Lavender's.

And she was gorgeous.

Soaked, but gorgeous. An Earth Pony mare with a grey mane and a beautiful, shiny blue coat tumbled through the door, sprawling at his hooves. A look at her flank betrayed the absence of a cutie mark. Panic set in as the unconscious mare lay on the floor of Lavender's foyer, a rapidly-growing puddle of rainwater accompanying her. Her chest rose and fell with deep, steady breaths, but her eyes were closed, one hoof twitching spasmodically.

She was incredibly shapely, full flanks and a well-proportioned barrel all attached to four muscled (but not grossly so) legs. There was no telling how well-kept she was, considering her legs were caked with mud and her mane hung around her neck and face in an not-entirely-unattractive way...

Many things crossed his mind in that moment. Phrases, words, and questions; half-formed thoughts of outrage, shock, and love-at-first-sigh sentimentalities... All of it summed up rather brilliantly in one short word.

"Fuck."

"Uuhn..." The strange waterlogged mare responded to Lavender's curse with a moan, her eyes flickering faintly. She fixed one of them on Lavender, her half-lidded gaze nevertheless burning with desire. What those desires were had yet to be seen, but nopony in their right mind would deny her the chance to voice them.

"Yes?" Lavender advanced cautiously, the edge of his hoof falling in the ever-growing puddle of water around the poor thing. That one eye still pierced into his own, aflame with desire. Whatever that desire was remained to be seen, but there it was, alive and intense.

"He..."

"Go on, old girl, say it." Lavender encouraged her, stepping ever-closer.

The words that came out of her mouth sent chills down his spine.

"Help me."

Her eyes, like the flame of the streetlamp, lost the light and all fire fled from them, leaving an unconscious mare in the middle of a pool of rainwater, and one very confused, suddenly very scared stallion whom could only muster one word to summarize all that had happened.

"Fuck."

Lavender was nothing if not a courteous pony. His colleagues and coworkers would often praise him for being forthcoming, if a little curmudgeonly. He accepted their praise readily, though never outwardly. He disliked helping others, but it went against his nature to allow ponies to suffer. At least, suffer at the ministrations of something that wasn't his own doing. In the world of journalism, one often had to maneuver in ways that left other ponies floundering.

Lavender was no stranger to suffering. Be it his own, or one of his career moves to put him in a more opportune (and comfortable) position. But seeing the mare collapsed on his foyer sparked something in Lavender, a feeling he hadn't felt in a while.

Sympathy.

And a fair bit of arousal, but that was besides the point. Actually, it was nestled right up next to the point, pressing its shapely flanks right up against his. And damn it all if it didn't take every bit of fortitude available to the belabored stallion to not take advantage of the poor thing. Thankfully enough, he managed to haul her into the bathtub for a nice, long, hot soak. That seemed to rouse her enough. She didn't speak, and hardly looked at him, but she nevertheless took the soap and rag offered her and weakly began scrubbing her body clean.

For that bit, Lavender let her be. It was only when the soft sounds of splashing and swishing stopped that he re-entered the bathroom to help her out of the tub. She hardly even moved when his magic wrapped around her, almost as if she were somewhat used to being handled like that. She stood on unsteady hooves while he fetched a towel, but dried off well enough.

"Are you hungry?" He finally asked, breaking the silence between them. The mysterious mare didn't speak, but nodded weakly. "Very well, come with me. Can you walk?" Again, she nodded. Lavender left the bathroom, taking her to the guest bedroom across from his own. Another shock was delivered as soon as they crossed the threshold. The mare immediately brushed past him, leaping up onto the bed with a sort of energy he hadn't expected to see from the seemingly weakened girl. She nosed her way under the covers, curling up comfortably and looking at him.

Again with those eyes. Her green irises burned like jade, penetrating past his own weak defenses and closing his throat. She set her smoldering gaze on him, though it was a different brand than earlier. Her lips were split in a grin, completely out-of-ordinary for the scenario. She looked at him like that, and Lavender froze.

"Eer, miss...?" He choked. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I feel fine, master."

He froze.

'Master.'

She said it like it meant nothing. Like she had practiced saying it, was used to it, like it was habit.

"E-excuse me? Master?"

She cocked her head to the side, her eyes immediately moving from 'lusty' to 'inquisitive.'

"Do you not wish me to call you that, master?"

There was that word again, and said with such easy innocence, the same way any other pony would say 'and' in a sentence. Lavender swallowed past the lump in his throat, taking a hesitant step closer.

"You don't need to call me anything, ma'am... My name is Lavender Sky. Most call me Sky, or Lav, or Lavender... Take your pick, but you don't need to call me m-... That."

Again, she cocked her head to the other side, her bright eyes inquisitive.

"But you asked me if I was hungry, Lavender. I don't understand, don't you want to feed me?"

"I... Well, yes, I would feed you. What do you want to eat?"

The smolder was back, and in force this time. She locked eyes with him, her lips spreading in another grin.

"What I always eat." She purred, pushing the blankets down and off. She lay on her back, haunches out, and as he watched, she spread them with a practiced slow ease that would make any consort jealous. Lavender froze as she bore herself to him, her delicate pink marehood glistening already.

"I'm hungry for cock."