The room was quiet, save for the soft drip… drip… of blood pooling onto the marble floor.

Your heart thundered in your chest as you stood frozen, staring at the scene before you.

Rarity stood tall, dapper as ever in his immaculate white suit — though now, crimson stains bloomed across the fabric like grotesque flowers. His gloved hand held a pair of glimmering designer scissors, their ornate silver edges now soaked in blood.

At his feet lay your friend — unmoving, coated in red, the life long since drained from their eyes.

Rarity’s soft blue gaze flicked up to meet yours, his usual smile painted on his lips, calm and chilling all at once.

“I bet I look horrible right now…” he murmured, brushing a bloodied curl away from his face. “Don’t look, sweetheart.”

He stepped over the body with an effortless grace, like it was nothing more than a misplaced rug. Each movement was deliberate, refined — the walk of someone who had done this before.

“They said things about you, you know,” he whispered, his voice like velvet dipped in poison. “Awful, ugly little things. Lies. Jealousy. Their energy was ghastly. Simply… unfashionable.”

His hand reached out to gently touch your cheek, leaving a streak of red in its wake. “I did this for us. So nothing — and no one — could ever come between us again.”

His smile widened, but there was something sharp behind it now.

“You don’t have to thank me, darling. Just stay by my side. Forever. Where you belong.”