Broken

by Jade Ring

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Narcotics, Diamond Tiara, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Sad, Drama, Snails, Button Mash, Filthy Rich, Spoiled Rich, Profanity
Length: 7064

It's Hearts and Hooves Day, and Filthy Rich is nursing his broken heart with a bottle. Can the only mare in town who really loves him find a way to save him?

It's Hearts and Hooves Day, and Filthy Rich's life is in ruins. His marriage is over, his wife flaunts her new play-thing, and the only solace he has in the world comes from the depths of a bottle.

As the whiskey burns and the night goes on, the broken stallion may find solace and peace in the arms of the last pony he would ever expect. The question for him becomes this; even if everything else in his life has fallen to ruins... does that excuse crossing a line that can never be uncrossed?

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

First Place Winner of the Hearts and Hooves Heartbreak Contest. Contains incest.

Published 2024-02-12 06:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-02-12 06:30:01 UTC

The Burn

The vodka burned like he needed it to. It was one of the only constants in his world, that burn. That ravaging, tearing, soothing sensation that traveled down his throat and nestled in his gullet. The rush of pleasure that followed raced up the slick path the alcohol had burned and lifted his mind in soothing respite. For a moment, just one, he felt good.

But then the head-rush vanished. Reality soon followed.

So he went to prepare another shot.

The front door swung open, and she marched in like she owned the place. Technically speaking, she did own the place. Half of it, anyway. She was smiling when she entered, but she saw him and froze. The smile slid off her face like an old bandage, and the good humor in her eyes faded to the dullness he had come to expect from her. "Oh. You're home."

"I am." Filthy Rich nodded, his hooves refilling his glass with practiced ease.

"You're supposed to be out of town." Spoiled noted.

"I am." He conceded just before he tipped another burning shot down his throat. "Train got delayed. Heading out tomorrow."

Spoiled Rich's face was stone. "You know what day it is."

Filthy chuckled and tipped his again empty glass in her direction. "Honestly, it's why I'm so surprised to see you home so early. Young stud had to...?" The barb trailed off as his wife (ex-wife, damn it, why was that part still so damned hard) stepped to the side. Standing behind her was a stallion he'd seen only in passing, usually when he was slinking away from his house (and it damn well was still his house, at least half of it) in the wee hours of the morning. Now that he could see him closer, he was able to recognize him. The lanky yellow body, the mop of unruly green hair, the horn that even now was lit just in case Filthy decided to do something stupid... Filthy swallowed the acid in his throat and forced a nod. "Evenin,' Snails."

"Uh... good evening, sir." His voice still sounded as dopey as ever, like the boy was dim. Only the brassy baritone was new.

"Right proper of you to see a lady to the door." It was meant to come out low, but the vodka was already working at him. It came out as a growl instead. "Wouldn't expect anything less from a big time athlete like yourself. Don't worry, I won't watch your kiss good-night..."

"He's not leaving." Spoiled looked down at him past the tip of her surgically modified muzzle. That he'd paid for, but who was keeping track anymore? "He's staying the night. It's Hearts and Hooves Day. It's going to be..." She smirked. "Special."

He felt the anger rising in him. Separated all these months, and still she could get a rise out of him. Rotten bitch. Spoiled rotten bitch. She'd laid a laundry list of faults at his hooves the day they'd called it quits, but his greatest sin? He'd spoiled her. He'd never learned to tell her no. And now? Now she couldn't be told no.

But then, was he any better? Really?

The divorce was locked in a stalemate. Neither was willing to give the other an inch. Hell, they were still cohabitating, for Celestia's sake. And why? Because neither would give up their stake in the house they'd built together. The courts would eventually rule, and they would abide by that. But until then? They would remain, and mutual hatred would be their tenant.

He knew about her new coltfriend. Knew that he liked to stay the night while he was out of town or pulling an all-nighter in the office or sleeping off a drunk at the inn or the Apple family's farm. But that was all. There had been an uneasy truce between them. Unspoken. He didn't cross paths with her new bed-mate. Didn't, until this unhappy Hearts and Hooves Day evening, really know the identity of his... his replacement. But here was yet another boundary broken.

And Filthy Rich found that he was not in the mood for it tonight.

"Snails, would you mind waiting outside?" He tipped the bottle and refilled his glass. "Spoiled and I need to..."

"Snails, dear." Spoiled piped up like he hadn't even been speaking. Typical. "Would you mind terribly waiting for me in the bedroom?" She looked back at her young stud and blew him a kiss. "I won't be long."

"Uh... okay." Snails carefully stepped across the threshold, his corona still alight in case he had to catch some missile heading his way. "You, uh... you have a good evening, Mr..."

"Get out of my sight!" Filthy barked, and the younger stallion was gone, up the stairs in a flash.

"Filthy, there's no need to be rude..." Spoiled started.

"Diamond Tiara is home this weekend." He swallowed the burn and gasped when it went down the wrong way. "Or did you forget?"

"Of course I didn't forget." She scoffed. "I'm not worried about it. She's a heavy sleeper."

Filthy stared at the mare with growing shock and horror. "You don't mean you...?"

"All the time." Spoiled smirked again. "Every night, really. At this point I'm considering just moving him in."

"Over my dead body." Filthy was trying to refill his glass, but his hooves were unsteady with rage. "Have you no shame at all, Spoiled? We're not even officially divorced yet, and here you are sneaking around with a stallion who literally went to school with our daughter."

"Do I detect a trace of jealousy in your voice, Filthy?" Spoiled chuckled as she closed the door and leaned against it. "Envious that I've already found a young lover to help me make up for lost time?"

Filthy knew what she was doing. Baiting him. Trying to get him angry enough so that he'd say or do something he'd later regret. Something she could take to the court to use against him. "Lost time? You act as though I never touched you..."

"How many late nights, Filthy? How many business conferences?" Now she was the one getting angry. Good. "Can you tell me how many times we made love last year?"

"More than five?" Filthy tried to laugh as he finally managed to pour another shot.

"Once." Spoiled growled. "Once." She looked him up and down. "What kind of stallion does that make you?"

"One old enough to not be desperate enough to subject himself to a grand total of five minutes of sex with somepony who won't even look at him in the eyes when they're doing it." Filthy muttered into his glass before pouring another shot down the hatch.

The corner of Spoiled's lip twitched. "Well this mare is old enough to know that isn't what she wants. Snails gives me what I need. Better than you ever did, really. He's not afraid to throw me around a little." She tittered. "He's bigger than you, too." She saw the throw coming but still barely dodged the glass as it streaked into the wall behind her and shattered. "How dare you?! Get out!"

"I will not!" Filthy roared. Inside he was kicking himself for throwing the glass, but the rage was all that filled him now. "This is as much my house as it yours, Spoiled!"

"For now it is!" She yelled back. "Which is why you have no right judging who I bring into my bed and when!"

"Have you no decency at all, mare?!" He could feel the tears in the corners of his eyes and hated them as much as he hated the mare in front of him. "Is there not a caring bone in your body for anypony that isn't you?!" He choked back a sob. "I gave you everything... and this...? This is how you...? You..." He took the bottle in his hooves and took a great swig, letting the burn chase away the tears. He pulled it away with a great gasp and stared at her with red rimmed eyes.

Spoiled's eyes were dull and dead. There was nothing in them when she looked at him. Not even hatred. It was the absence of feeling. That was all she held for him now. "You really should leave, Filthy. That's a fair warning." She started for the stairs. "I wouldn't want you to hear something you wouldn't like."

He didn't watch her go. Couldn't. He stared at the spot on the wall where she'd been standing and listened. He heard her hoofsteps in the hall. Heard the door to the master bedroom open and close. Heard the dull sound of voices talking. Heard her laugh, light and airy, the way she'd laughed with him a long time ago. Heard them start to...

He bolted out the front door before he could hear anymore. He didn't even bother to close it behind him.

He took the bottle with him.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When he was gone, a door at the end of the downstairs hallway opened. Slowly. Tentatively. The room's sole occupant poked her head out and wiped the sleep from her eyes. She winced at the sounds coming from upstairs, flattened her ears in a vain attempt to drown them out. She made her way to the parlor, saw the door left ajar. Saw the bits of broken glass in the carpet. She looked out into the night, and whispered one word.

"Daddy?"

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Filthy Rich finished his vodka about ten minutes after leaving his house. He dropped the bottle somewhere and promptly forgot about it. Somepony else would pick it up. He had more important business to tend to. He could feel he was drunk, and yet the old tiger in his chest was roaring that he was not nearly drunk enough. Not yet. His options?

There was the bar in the Ponyville Inn. But with it being Hearts and Hooves Day, the place would likely be overrun with stallions desperately trying to ensnare a catch from the sure to be dwindling number of single mares in the room.

He could chance a visit to Sweet Apple Acres. The elder Apple siblings had proven to be excellent drinking buddies, but he had a feeling they'd both be previously occupied by their spouses today.

Today. Fucking Hearts and Hooves Day.

No, there was only one thing for it. He always kept a bottle of good apple whiskey in his office above the show floor of Barnyard Bargains. Let the whole of Ponyville's populace drown in pheromones and love tonight. He'd spend his first Hearts and Hooves night in twenty years as a single stallion drinking until he passed out on his desk. As Celestia intended.

He arrived at the store in no time at all and let himself in. The door was open, so he knew that Button Mash must still be in. Sure enough, his book-keeper was still manning his desk, inputting numbers into the new computer he'd designed. "Evenin,' Button."

The young stallion looked up in surprise. "Ah! Mr. Rich! I heard that your train was delayed, but I didn't expect you to..."

"Nevermind nevermind." Filthy tried to sound genial and boisterous, but he was being too loud. Too false. And he knew it. "Just going to look over some things in my office. By all means; keep burnin' that midnight oil. That's why you're the best paid stallion in town."

"Actually, sir, I'm just wrapping this up. I have plans..."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure." Filthy waved him off. He wasn't trying to be rude, but he'd be lying if he said he'd heard a word his employee had said. "Hold my calls, if you don't mind." Before Button could reply, the stallion was already climbing the stairs to his office. He stepped in and took a moment to survey his sanctuary. The huge apple-wood desk, a gift from the Apple Family to celebrate twenty years of doing business together. The velvet curtains, custom made and fitted by Rarity herself. The plush forest green carpet, the tasteful pastoral scenes framed on the walls...

...and the blank space. The empty void where the family portrait had once hung. The outline was still there, like a scar.

He looked away from it and crossed the room to his desk. He settled back in his chair and sighed. He loved the smell of this office. The feel of the air. This was one place his ex-wife couldn't... spoil. He chuckled to himself as he opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a delicately crafted bottle in the shape of a burning apple. Another drawer held a pair of tumblers, and he pulled both out on instinct. He filled one with the amber liquid, saluted his empty office, and downed it in one.

Celestia above, how the burn was wonderful! So full and rich and different than the vodka. He exhaled with pleasure and pain and immediately doled out a second shot. This was what he needed. The devil take Spoiled and everything else. Here was peace and joy and respite. Here was sweet oblivion. With everything she had, with everything she'd taken from him, Filthy knew that he would always have this. His business. His home.

And the burn.

And Spoiled? What did she have?

...well, she had her young lover.

The glass paused halfway to his muzzle, and Filthy snorted as the thoughts slipped into his still damnably conscious mind. Yes, Spoiled had her little boy-toy. But what of it? It wasn't like he was... jealous. No, not jealous. Not... not really. But wasn't it just a little unfair? Wasn't Spoiled and her lack of interest in any kind of physical intimacy that wasn't hard, fast, and dominating a significant reason he hadn't put up much of a fuss when she'd confessed her dalliance with that stallion in Manehatten?

Filthy tossed back the drink and hissed as it burned down. Yes, it was unfair. Unfair how he'd worked himself to the bone to provide for his family, had put up with her snide remarks and callous behavior for years, only for her to have the audacity to blame him for her indiscretion. "Complacent." He spat the word. That's what she'd said. He'd become complacent in their marriage, so she couldn't be blamed for looking for what she needed elsewhere. And now? Now she was likely getting rutted into the bed by the star player of Ponyville's hoofball team.

He could just see her now, her perfect purple mane a mess, the back of it probably wrenched back in the teeth of her young lover. He could see her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her tongue lolling out, wailing into the air as she came again and again...

Filthy went to pour another drink, and hated himself as his penis began to swell under his desk. It wasn't fair, damn it! She was the one who had crossed the line. She was the one who had quit! Why should she be able to move on so easily? So quickly? Yes, he'd neglected her needs. Yes, he hadn't tended to her as often as a good husband should. But didn't he have needs too? Needs that Spoiled had never once even tried to meet? Sex was always about her her her. How many times had he begged her to just touch him, for Celestia's sake? To make him feel wanted for once.

As he finally managed to pour another shot, he came to the stark realization that his own wife had not even kissed him in over five years.

No matter. The whiskey was a much better kisser.

He shifted in his seat and grunted when the tip of his stallionhood brushed the underside of his desk. Why hadn't that gone away by now? Why tonight of all nights was the menace of whiskey-dick not taking it's toll? He considered just reaching down and dealing with it... but a new thought came to his rapidly clouding mind.

Why should Spoiled have all the fun with her young lover? Why shouldn't he get just a taste of what he'd been deprived of for so long?

Filthy reached instead for the intercom button that led straight to Button Mash's desk. "Button? Stop what you're doing for a moment and use the Dragonfire to send a message to Cane. Tell him I'm in the mood for some company tonight." He paused. Considered. "Tell him I'd like her young." He released the button and leaned back again. There was no reply from Button Mash, meaning the young stallion was already at his task. Good boy. Reliable.

The stallion named Candy Cane had more than a few side-hustles in Ponyville to supplement his income from his family sweet shop. Just one of these was acting as a facilitator for Ponyville's small but thriving prostitution business, itself a byproduct of the town's growth over the last ten years. Filthy himself had never strayed, no matter how awful Spoiled could be, but he had used Cane's services on more than a few occasions to entertain visiting business partners. He imagined Cane would be quite surprised at his request, but would eagerly fulfill it. It was always nice to help out your closest and most loyal associates.

Filthy downed another shot and turned his chair towards the wall. His vision was beginning to cloud from the alcohol, but he could still make out the blank space where the family portrait had hung. It was unsightly, that emptiness. Not right. A blemish on the wall of his sanctuary. A reminder of what he'd lost. He'd have to have something new put there, and soon.

He was good and drunk now. He could feel that. The world around him was less defined and more vague, colored shapes. Good. This was what he needed. Everything was dulled. Well... almost everything. He reached down and tapped his now turgid length. The mottled black of it stretched forward from his sheath and stood proudly in the open air. He felt a shiver of anticipation go through him even with most of his external senses dulled. He hadn't been with another mare in almost twenty years. He wondered...

His ears swiveled at the sound of his office door closing. He hadn't even heard it open. He grinned. "That Cane is a prompt one." He called backwards, not wanting to turn just yet. Didn't want to scare the poor thing off, did he? "I'm gonna have to send him a bottle of this excellent whiskey for getting you over here so quick." He took a deep breath, trying to catch her scent, but he could detect nothing besides the smell of whiskey. Speaking of... "Would you like a drink? There's a glass there for you."

She didn't say anything, whoever she was. Good. He wasn't really in the mood for some fake conversation from a prostitute. It seemed like all anypony wanted to do these days was talk. Talk talk talk talk talk. To give their condolences, to offer advice, to commiserate...

He heard the clink of glass on glass, and a moment later the unmistakable sound of a mare breathing out after taking in the burn.

"Good girl." Filthy muttered. "I... I hope you don't mind if I stay seated for the time being. I've had a few of what you just had and I'm afraid I'm a mite unsteady at the moment. But don't you worry." He turned his chair just enough that his hardness could be in her line of sight. "I can still perform."

She didn't say anything, but he heard her take another shot.

"Y... you don't have to talk. But I would like you to listen. I know with it being Hearts and Hooves Day you probably have a full dance card, but I'll tip you well after..." He chuckled drunkenly. "...after I tip you well."

She actually giggled at his bad joke. She did sound young. Good. "You're about to be the first mare I've had in a very long time. I'm div... I'm about to be divorced. She... she's already met somepony else. She..." His voice choked. Damn it all. Booze making him emotional again. It had always been his weakness. "She and I were bad for each other. We were. It's the hard truth of it, but it's there. The one good thing our almost twenty years of marriage produced was our little girl. She's a wonder... and not so little anymore. Off at university these days. Visits when she can..." He sniffled. "She's the best thing I've ever done, that one. And I put up with Spoiled as long as I did for her sake. So she wouldn't have to grow up in a broken home. And when I think of the years I wasted with... with that bitch, I just tell myself that it was all worth it because my little princess actually got to have a decent foalhood. Not like me. Not like..." He let out one hard dry sob. "I'm sorry... I've always been a weepy drunk."

A hoof reached over his shoulder bearing a glass of whiskey. He took it gratefully and drank it down. The burn was good and there when he needed it once again. It evaporated the tears, and he looked back at the appendage that had delivered his momentary salvation. The hoof was pink, the fur on the leg perfectly cleaned and shampooed. He leaned towards it and kissed it. He breathed in her scent; eucalyptus and... something else. The thoughts were being sluggish again. The hoof retreated, and he heard her take another shot of her own.

"I'm not proud that I asked you to come here tonight. But I just... I just need to feel something again. Even if I have to pay for it. Just... just to feel... wanted." He sighed and sank into his chair. "Just to feel wanted." He closed his eyes, and felt the heady rush of tiredness sweeping in. He felt his cock beginning to wilt. Just as well. He'd still pay the mare for her time, but...

He felt someone kiss the tip.

He twitched when they did it again. He didn't open his eyes. They felt too good closed like this. Though not as good as what was happening down below. She moved so quietly, so lightly. He hadn't even heard her come around the desk. The mare was starting to pepper his stallionhood with light, almost chaste kisses. He jumped a little when she threw in a lick. She must have liked that, that little jump, because she did it again. And again. And then a third longer lick up the side. Even in his intoxicated state, Filthy was in heaven. How long had it been since anypony besides himself had even touched him down there, let alone kissed it like this.

He gasped like a schoolcolt when she took the tip into her mouth for the first time. He'd forgotten the simple bliss of this sensation. The warm, heavy heat of the inside of a mare's mouth. He felt her teeth graze his length and vaguely wondered how much experience she had. Was he her first john? She began bobbing then, and the motion of her tongue told him that she had some experience, at least. He groaned as he received his first blowjob in... how long had it been? He couldn't remember. His world was the burn in his belly and the heat around his cock. He groaned again, louder this time, and he felt her try taking him deeper. Receptive. Good. Perhaps...

His hooves reached up and found her mane. It was silky soft to his touch, and he luxuriated in it for a moment before resting his hooves on her scalp. He didn't force her, didn't drive her down. Just went along for the ride as she blew him. He felt her pull free with a gasp and, without missing a beat, wrap her forelegs around him and continue pumping him. Her saliva mixed with his precum and the feel of her soft fur sliding along his slick dick-skin made him grit his teeth.

When she started licking his tip again, he couldn't hold back a choked "Fuck!"

She was good, and she knew it. He could feel that. But there was something else in the way she was treating him. She wasn't picking up the pace or changing things up. She was... tending to him. Just making him feel good.

He hadn't felt so loved in such a long time.

When she took him deep again, he knew he needed to see her. Needed to see this mare's eyes looking up at him as she worshipped him so divinely. Slowly, he opened his eyes...

...and beheld a very familiar pair of crystal blue eyes looking up from his lap.

"...Diamond Tiara?!" He gasped as much in shock at seeing her as the feeling of her running her tongue over his slit. "What...?!"

She pulled off of him with a gasp, panting as she continued to stroke him. "Oh, Daddy, I'm sorry. I should've said something. Please don't be mad?" She punctuated the plea with a long kiss to his cock. "Please?" Another kiss. "Please?"

Filthy Rich's hooves fell away as he looked down at the fruit of his loins and felt an untethered tempest blasting through his alcohol soaked brain. This was his daughter. His own flesh and blood. The young mare he had just waxed poetic about being the best thing he'd done in his life was slathering on his cock like some common whore. The disconnect threatened to short circuit his very mind. But it was the way she was looking up at him that made him pause, made him not push her away like he knew he was supposed to. Those eyes... those mesmerizing, beautiful eyes... the eyes that had always looked up at him with such familial love.

The familial love was still there... but there was something else too. A cloudy, smoky look that all stallions dreamed of seeing in a mare's eyes. It was lust. It was want. "...why?" He finally managed.

"I saw you leaving the house. I followed you here." She dragged her tongue along the underside of his cock before briefly suckling the tip. "I knew she was being mean to you, but I had no idea... You don't deserve to be treated like that, Daddy. She doesn't deserve you. She never deserved you." She took him into her muzzle and pushed farther than before. He gasped as she held her place, her throat muscles constricting and loosening around him. She pulled away with a hoarse gasp, lines of saliva stretching from her lips to his dick. "I love you so much, Daddy. You're the best stallion I've ever known. Let me... let me take care of you? Please?" She stroked him and lightly nibbled his head. "You deserve this. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to be wanted. Let me love you like a mare." She was panting now, and even his dulled senses could smell the tell-tale air of a mare in need. "I want you, Daddy. I want you so bad."

This was wrong. Every remaining rational brain cell in Filthy's head was shrieking to be heard over the cacophony of chaos ringing between his ears. This. Was. Wrong. This was his daughter. This was the one good thing left in his life, and he was ruining her by letting her do this to him. He was worse than the lowest of ponies. He was worse than Spoiled. He was...

Spoiled. He thought of her cutting remarks. Her insults. Her callousness. Her disinterest. Her bitterness. Her greed. Her blatant narcissism.

Diamond. He thought of her laugh. Her warmth. Her kindness. Her sweetness. Her sense of humor. Her honesty. Her growth and change to be the best mare she could be.

Filthy grabbed the bottle of whiskey and tilted it back into his mouth. His world became the burn. It consumed everything but the feel of the mare loving him below and the almost painful swelling of his heart. He almost dropped the bottle on his desk and took a great, cooling breath. The possibility that he might be dreaming crossed his mind.

It made what happened next that much easier.

His hooves reached out and cupped her face. He urged her upward gently, and she didn't resist a bit. His hooves slid down her slender neck, across her chest (he could feel her heart beating a million miles a minute) and finally around to hook under her forelegs. He lifted her like she was nothing, just as he'd always been able to when she was smaller. He swiveled in his chair and swung her around, laying her across his desk in one easy motion. Her ever-present tiara clattered to the floor and was forgotten. He stood on his hindlegs and wobbled for a moment before planting his hooves on either side of her for balance. She writhed on the hard wood, and his own hard wood lay lewdly on her belly, resting comfortably between her teats. He could feel the heat of her on his sack, and when he looked down at her he saw not his daughter but what she was in that moment; a mare. A mare who needed him. Who really wanted him. Filthy swallowed hard at the sight of her heaving chest, at the way she looked up at him. "Diamond Tiara..."

Her response was to grab the bottle of whiskey and mimic his actions, taking a great drink straight from the source. She forced herself up on her elbows so the rest wouldn't spill and set it aside, her eyes never leaving his even as she gasped away the burn. She held out her hooves, an invitation any stallion in his right mind would be mad to refuse.

He was not in his right mind, but Filthy Rich would not refuse.

He'd never been able to refuse his little princess.

"Daddy..." She whispered, and he could smell the whiskey on her breath.

He leaned in and kissed her. His first kiss in half a decade. She kissed him back, moaning with agonized need. Their tongues danced, trading whiskey-flavored saliva like it was pure ambrosia. Her forelegs encircled him, pulling him closer, and Filthy Rich wept on the inside. He wept at the knowledge of what he was doing was so wrong, but wept as well because this was what he'd been missing. Here was touch. Here was need. Here was want. He broke the kiss and pulled away from her grip just enough to line himself up with where she needed him. She gasped at the first entry, then moaned, low and deep, as he sank into her fully.

Filthy Rich grit his teeth. She was so tight, so warm, so wet. But more than that was the fact that she was still looking at him, still staring into his eyes with that same desperate want. With surprising strength she pulled him down on top of her and kissed him again. They moaned together and relished in their mutual drunken pleasure.

Diamond Tiara broke the kiss and brought her lips to her father's ear. "I love you, Daddy. I love you so much..."

He wanted to tell her the same. He wanted to beg her forgiveness for using her like this. He wanted to say so many things, but the words would not come. Instead, he let his body tell her.

There, in his sanctuary, lost in a dream and nightmare both, Filthy Rich made love to his daughter. It was slow. It was sweet. It was tender and passionate and everything it needed to be. They never looked away from one another, not until Diamond Tiara hit her peak and let her father swallow her orgasm in another burning, whiskey-tainted kiss. And when he felt his own end approaching, she held him tight in place so he could not escape. He stared into her eyes as his body locked and filled her with the same substance from which she'd come. Those eyes were filled with such love that he nearly wept again.

Darkness came for Filthy Rich, then, and he welcomed it gladly.

The Morning

Button Mash carefully pushed open the door to his boss' office. The smell hit him at once, and he coughed to clear his assaulted nasal passages. The place reeked of whiskey and sex. He'd definitely have to pay the cleaning mare extra this week. He spotted his boss sprawled across his desk and called out carefully. "Uh... Mr. Rich?"

Filthy Rich slowly opened one bleary eye. "…Yes?"

"Uh... rough night?"

Filthy opened and blinked both eyes carefully. His head was pounding. Thank Celestia for the heavy curtains over the window. He carefully pushed himself up and back into his chair with a groan, then looked around the office. He and Button Mash were the only occupants. "Did... did you just get here?" He asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Yes sir." Button carefully stepped over a spilled bottle of whiskey.

"Did you... see anypony leave?" Filthy rubbed the back of his aching head. He smacked his lips and grimaced. His mouth tasted awful. "Anypony at all?"

"No sir."

"So maybe it was a dream..." Filthy began muttering, but cut off the thought when he saw tell-tale stains on his desk's surface. The smell of the place struck him then, and flashes of the night before became more clearly defined. It definitely hadn't been a dream, then. There had been a mare here, and in his drunken daze she had appeared to him as... as Diamond Tiara. A chill went through him at the thought. Maybe this whole experience was the sign he needed to cut back. Hell, maybe it was time to give therapy another shot. In any case, whoever the mare in question had been? She’d been wonderful. Just what he’d needed. "Button, send another to message to Candy Cane, would you?” A small grin broke through the burgeoning hangover. “That young lady was just what the doctor ordered."

Button Mash raised an eyebrow. "Another message, sir? When did I send the first one? You haven't had me contact Mr. Cane in weeks."

"Last night. You used the Dragonfire to reach out to him last night." A cold feeling began to creep up Filthy’s spine at the look of incomprehension in his employee’s eyes. "I asked you to have Cane arrange for me to have some company last night." He gestured at the intercom. "Used this right here."

Button Mash shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir, but I hit the road literally right after you went up the stairs. I told you; I had plans. I took Sweetie Belle out to dinner for Hearts and Hooves Day. If you had company last night, you arranged for it." Button’s eyes cut to the clock on the wall. “You don’t have long before the train leaves, sir. You might want to, uh...” He sniffed and looked away. “Freshen up.” He turned and started down the stairs. “I’ll head out and see if the cleaning service has someone who can come over right away. This place will look brand new by the time you get back.”

Filthy Rich slumped in his chair. The implications of last night's events slowly began to come together in his mind. If everything Button had said was true… then maybe…

“Good morning, Daddy.”

Filthy started and stared as his daughter entered his office. His first instinct was to panic, to ask her to leave, to beg her forgiveness for the state of his office, to come up with some lame excuse for the mess…

She looked at his desktop and smirked. “Gonna take some serious elbow grease to get those stains out. Sorry about that.”

That was all it took. The final key. The last clue. Everything slid into place. It hadn’t been some drunken delusion. Filthy Rich’s heart sank. “Diamond Tiara…” He whispered.

“I’m sorry I ran out so early.” Diamond Tiara crossed the room and set a small travel bag and a box of pastries on the profaned desk. “I ran back to the house to get cleaned up and brought you a few toiletries so you could do the same. Grabbed you some breakfast on the way back over.”

Filthy stared at his daughter. How was she being so nonchalant about this? Acting so… normal? He’d defiled her, ruined her. Taken the sacred bond between father and daughter and broken it, just like everything else in his life. Why was she still here? And, more importantly, why was she taking care of him? “Diamond Tiara… Princess…” He swallowed hard. His mouth tasted like ashes and whiskey. “Last night…”

“We can talk about last night when you’re not hungover and needing to catch a train.” Diamond Tiara sat on her haunches and straightened her headpiece atop her freshly washed mane. “It happened. That’s all that needs to be said right now.”

“But it’s not.” Filthy felt the distant urge to vomit, but was unsure if it was the hangover or the thought of what he’d done that brought it on. “Diamond, I took advantage of…”

“Daddy, please shut up with that.” Diamond Tiara gave him a pitying look. “I initiated it, remember? I asked you to do it. Practically begged you.”

“That’s no excuse.” He sniffed. “I’m your father, Diamond Tiara. I should have…”

“Yes, you’re my father. And I’m your daughter. And you have spent my entire life taking care of my every need. I haven’t wanted for anything. Ever. And that’s all thanks to you. Certainly no thanks to her.” Diamond Tiara rolled her eyes. “You really should’ve told her to kick rocks ages ago.”

“I wanted you to have a decent foalhood…”

“And I did. I had an amazing foalhood… except for having to watch her treat you like dirt all these years. That part wasn’t so great. And seeing her somehow become even worse to you after the split?” She shook her head in disgust. “Hearing you talk like you did last night…”

“It was the booze…”

“No it wasn’t.” She smiled at him gently. “What we did last night… Daddy, you needed it. And I was happy to do it for you. With you. To show you what you’d been missing all this time.” She came around the desk and put a hoof on his shoulder. “We’re not the first father and daughter to do this in Equestria." She laughed lightly. "And it’s not like we’re gonna be dating now, are we?”

Filthy shuddered. “Of course not. I…” He looked into her eyes. The familial love was there as it always had been, but the lust, the want she’d displayed last night was nowhere to be found. “I love you, Princess. But… but not like that.”

“Same, Daddy.” She stretched forward and kissed his cheek. “So with all that being said… did it help? Did I help you?”

Filthy Rich considered… and then nodded. “I think you did.”

“Good. Then that’s all that matters.” She kissed his cheek again, then paused. "You know... it's true what you said last night."

"What's that?"

Her breath was hot in his ear, and for a single fleeting instant the burn of last night returned. "I really am the best thing you've ever done."

He pushed himself back and gaped at her. "Young lady!"

She laughed as she turned and headed for the door. “You were owed that after the 'tip you well' joke, Daddy. Now eat your breakfast and get to the station. I upgraded you to a sleeper so you can get showered up on the ride into the city.”

Filthy chuckled as he reached for a pastry. “You’re too good for me, princess.”

“No, Daddy.” She stopped and looked back with a smile. “You’re too good. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” He watched her go as he bit into his croissant. The feelings of shame and self-loathing were still there, but they weren’t quite as loud now. His daughter still loved him. What had happened? Well, it had happened. And it was done with. Nothing between he and Diamond Tiara had been changed. Except…

Filthy Rich swiveled his chair towards the wall and stared at the empty space. He was broken, yes… but not everything in his life was. And broken things? They could be repaired. Oftentimes in unconventional ways, as last night has shown him. He hadn't been foolish for pining for what he desired. It was out there, somewhere. Diamond Tiara had shown him that. It would take time and effort, but in the end? He would be okay again. The anger and the bitterness and the self-hatred... they would fade over time. Because there were still good things in his life, weren’t there? His business. His friends.

And the best daughter he could ever ask for.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////

It took several weeks to be completed, but the end result was worth it. The new framed portrait fit over the empty space perfectly, like it had always belonged there. In many ways, it was very similar to the last portrait that had hung there. The same backdrop, the same angle…

…really, the only difference was that now it was two ponies in the portrait instead of three. And one of the subjects was visibly older than she'd been the first go round.

Per Filthy Rich’s request, a small golden label had been affixed to the frame. Emblazoned on it was a single word.

UNBROKEN

Author's Note

I hadn't planned on doing a story like this as my 99th published fanfiction, but life is a funny thing. Writing this was tremendously therapeutic in a lot of ways, as strange as that sounds.

Most of you who follow me know where this story comes from. There are some very real, very raw parts of me in here. Obviously not the parts about plowing an immediate family member, but that should be obvious. To these followers, I just want to say that I'm slowly getting better.

And I love you all. You are my constants.

You help me remain unbroken.

-Jade Ring