The sound of thunder crashes through the sky, awakening Falcata abruptly with a jolt. The pegasus coughs, twice, and finds herself shivering in the fierce downpour. I feel awful. Oh, gods. What was I doing? In fact...uh, where am I? Having just taken a look round, she is certain of one thing: she's never seen this place before in her life. The ground is barren, with dead, grey soil and the only vegetation being a few, wilting plants barely a few inches tall. Above her, the sky is dark and dull, water pouring from the foreboding blanket of cloud at a phenomenal rate. Other than the occasional boom of thunder and the constant patter of falling rain, she can hear nothing but the sound of her own panicked breathing.
Falcata gets unsteadily to her hooves, trying to keep her growing distress and fear under control. Nothing looks familiar; no matter which direction she looks in, the vast expanse of wasteland continues unbroken until the horizon. She couldn't even take to the air to have a look around or even just to calm herself down with the familiar sensation of flight, not with the weather so bad.
Fighting a mounting sense of dread, she takes a step forwards, and the world explodes into a bloody, sanguine light. The pegasus begins to fall, spiraling downwards through the shapeless void, her wings refusing to work as she plummets faster and faster. Far above, growing smaller and smaller, she can see a hole in the endless expanse of red, through which Glaive is peering down at her. As she drops further and further away from him, she begins to cry out, but jerks to a sudden stop before she can finish-
"Glaive!" she yells, surging up from the hospital bed, eyes wide and filled with fear. A flicker of movement to her left startles her, and she whirls her head around to identify it, coming face to face with the real Glaive, who is wearing an expression of deep concern and worry.
Glaive had not left Falcata's side since the accident. All the time while Panacea and Wool had been working, he'd been there with her. After what he’d done, she had blacked out. She didn't yet know the extent the crime Glaive had caused this day, and he dreaded having to be the one to tell her, but he also could not bear to let it be anyone else. When Falcata awoke and shouted his name, the best response he could manage was to merely hug her and whisper, “I'm here, Falcata, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
"Sorry?" she whimpers, pupils dilated in fear. "Why are you sorry? Why am I in hospital?" She raises a forehoof to her head, investigating the bandage she discovers there. "Ow..."
Glaive frowns as he releases Falcata and takes his seat. ‘She doesn't even remember me hurting her. This will be even harder than I thought.’ “You don’t remember the accident? Do...What was the last thing you do remember?” Glaive asks cautiously.
"Uh...I remember- I remember you and I, we were sparring...axes at first, then wrestling, and then- then..." she trails off, confused. "I can't remember, did you buck me in the head or- or something? Feels like it..." she mumbles, still in pain but feeling a bit less panicked, now that everything seems to be making a bit of sense. "You know I forgive you anyway, right?" she murmurs, placing a forehoof on his in a gesture of support.
Glaive squirms in his seat. “I...I didn't buck you in the head, w- what happened, was- well you got on top of me and I- I kicked you off of me, you fell backwards and hit your head on a rock.” Glaive looks at Falcata, guilt and a bit of fear in his eyes, “You were out cold and there...there was blood - a lot of it - but... but not just from your head. I- I carried you to the hospital as fast as I could and Doctor Panacea and Wool looked you over. I- I never left your side. Panacea told me that you- you were pregnant, but when- when I bucked you, I...I killed the foal.” Glaive looks at the ground unable to look her in the eyes. He knew they both had been ignorant of that fact beforehoof, but that knowledge did little to assuage the guilt he felt. “...I’m sorry.”
Falcata blinks slowly, still very confused and disoriented and not really taking in the full meaning of Glaive's words. Things were back to making no sense, it seemed. "But, I- what? I wasn't- I wasn't pregnant, Glaive. I- we would have known! Panacea, Wool, they must have been mistaken. That can't be true!" she stammers, the expression on Glaive's face worrying her far more than anything he could ever have said.
’She doesn't want to believe it. I can’t blame her, I wouldn't want to believe this either.’ Glaive hangs his head and shakes it back and forth slowly, “No, Falcata; it is true, or rather it- it was. You- you were pregnant, and I, I hurt you, I hurt our foal. I..I was here during the whole...process.” Glaive stares into space as if remembering a bad dream, “Just- just please believe me when I say that I know it was true.”
The pegasus shrinks back from Glaive, only now fully comprehending his words. She can hardly believe them, her mind rejecting them outright as hurtful and horrifying untruths, but Glaive's expression is so distraught that she finds herself unable to disbelieve him. Tears begin to roll down her face as she backs up against the bed's headboard, pressing herself against it as if trying to use it as a shield from the sickening truth.
"No," she whispers huskily, her voice breaking. "No! You're wrong, you're wrong, Panacea is wrong, Wool is wrong, you're all WRONG!" Her voice rises to a distressed scream, giving voice to the desolation she feels. "You have to be wrong..." she sobs, suddenly quiet again, shaking with anguish as her tears continue to flow freely.
Glaive looks up from the floor, tears in his eyes as well. “I’m sorry Fal, it’s true.” ’I don’t know what else I can say. Maybe...’He silently approaches his wife and tries to wrap her into a hug.
She makes no move to respond to the unicorn's embrace, continuing to sob quietly, slowly rocking back and forth. Part of her wants to push him away, wants to scream and wail and holler and blame him for everything, to call him a murderer twice over and to reject his attempts to comfort her. Part of her wants to hug him back, to cry on his shoulder and to grieve with him, perhaps even forgive him. Most of her, though, is in a state of shock and is in no position to decide anything, and so she chooses to do nothing other than whimper with sorrow.
Glaive silently holds his dear wife. He wanted to tell her that everything would be okay, to apologize again and again, to beg her for forgiveness, but no words came to his mouth, no words felt right. He holds her tight and sheds his tears in silence.
After a short while, Falcata reciprocates the desperate hug, clinging to her husband like a drowning pony would cling to the riverbank. She tries to speak, but only manages to splutter something incoherent.
"How- how will we get through this? I-" she chokes, almost inaudibly.
Without letting go of his wife, Glaive says, “You’ll be okay, we’ll both be okay. Panacea has said that you will fully recover, and we can get through this together.” Glaive looks down at his wife. “With time, the two of us can conquer anything, even this.”
The words felt hollow even as Glaive spoke them. He was trying to be strong for her, but in his heart he felt nothing but guilt and shame. Even if he didn't know she was with foal, he had still hit her hard enough to cause all this. He was still a horrible husband, and would only be a worse father. If it wasn't for his own selfishness he would like to run and hide before he risked hurting anypony else.
“But- but I don’t want to “conquer everything”...I just want my foal...” she cries softly, burying her face in his chest and beginning to sob again. With her world turned upside down, Glaive’s words seem almost artificial, as if spoken by a character out of a fairy tale. Even as sorrowful and distressed as she currently is, she still feels slightly disconnected from the situation, as if she were watching something horrifying happen to somepony else. It wouldn't fully sink in until later.
“I know Fal, I know. It’s okay.” Glaive continues to offer his platitudes while holding his wife tight, knowing that they were just that.
Somewhat suddenly, Falcata releases her grip on the unicorn. Eyes still tearful yet slightly vacant, all she can feel is a sickening, heavy weight of grief and loss, and all she wants is to escape back into sleep. Even dreams about barren, empty worlds were better than this. Anything would be better than this.
“I think you should go,” she whispers, her voice thick with barely restrained heartache.
“I- I...” Glaive did not want to leave her side, but he understood why she would want him to. Glaive steps back from her, and says only. “I love you Falcata, please remember that.” before solemnly walking out the door. In his despair he knew not what to do or where to go, or who to see. And so as he wandered he found a barrel of the strongest drink in the fort and began to drink alone in silence, save for the occasional sob that escaped him, until all the world all went black around him.
Falcata, for her part, slides slowly back under the bed-sheets, wrapping them tightly around her, staring vacantly at the blank wall nearest her bed. She feels empty, save for her intense feeling of loss and wretchedness. Bit by bit, the lingering bewilderment and fog-like disorientation caused by her head injury begin to melt away, and she at last feels the full impact of the day's events hit her like an emotional sledgehammer.
My child...our child...gone.
An indescribable mix of emotional suffering, hatred both at herself and at Glaive, and deepest regret wells up inside her, and she gives voice to it, howling a raw cry of lamentation and misery without care for whosoever might hear it. Grabbing her pillow, she plants her face firmly into the soft, comforting fabric, allowing it to muffle her wails of mourning until she eventually cries herself to sleep.