No title yet, but will figure one out

>Relaxing in the bar, you slowly drink your cider, watching the ponies and listening to the karaoke in the background.
>An enjoyable day off, and you have a sitter for your daughter
>At least, it would be, until a pair of ponies walk into the bar.
>A white unicorn with two-toned blue mane, and a pink alicorn.
>Being at the back and out of the way, they don't notice you, which you are thankful for, though your day has already been ruined by just the sight of "her".
>The current karaoke singer finishes and nobody else goes up to sing right away, while you get an idea.
>Downing the last of your liquid courage, you step for the stage, a bunch of eyes focusing on you.
>While in this land of ponies and magic, you've learned how song magic works, since it's available to anyone and everyone.
>Not that you've needed it much, but right now, every detail of how it works is on your mind.
>The strength of the emotion behind the song increases the scope of what the song can produce, both musically and visually.
>Effects brought on by the song cannot manipulate the real.
>Only those who you wish to feel the secret messages in the song will feel them, others won't.
>Underneath you, the well trodden wooden stage creaks slightly, and you pick up the microphone.
"I'm singing this song for a mare here tonight. She knows who she is, but I swear I won't say."
>You can almost feel her gulp, which brings a touch of a smile to your lips.
>Drawing up the song magic, the image of a big bright red heart floats in front of your chest, and a bow forms a distance away, loaded with a heart arrow.
>The bow fires, the arrow shooting and embedding in the heart image, and you start singing.
(For those who need it, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KrZHPOeOxQQ)
"Shot through the heart,"
"And you're to blame,"
"Darlin' you give love a bad name..."
>Guitar's start playing, illusionary pyrotechnics flashing up behind you.
>A few repeated riffs play, before the music sinks to just the bass, and you open your mouth again.
"An angel's smile is what you sell,"
"You promised me heaven, try nine months of hell,"
>A calender in the background flips past 9 months.
>9 very particular months.
"Your chains of love, they can't hold me,"
>Bright pink chains wrap around you as you sing, before falling off and dissipating.
"My daughter's my heart now, I'm finally free."
>An image of your daughter appears behind the heart, the arrow falling out and to the ground.
"Oh, oh, you're a loaded gun," you sing, the bow fading, being replaced by a revolver which loads itself.
"Oh, oh, there's nowhere to run,"
"It's too late to save me,"
"Your damage is done."
"Shot through the hear,t"
>The sound of the gunshot drowns out the music, but not your voice, the bullet tearing a hole through the image, leaving a gaping hole with blood dripping from it.
"And you're to blame,"
"You give love a bad name,"
>"Bad name,"
"You played my heart,"
"And you play your game,"
"You give love a bad name,"
>"Bad name,"
"Yeah, you give love a bad name."
>In the interim riffs, you can feel the pressure building in the bar, this kind of music being nearly unheard of in public song.
>You can also see how it is affecting her.
"Paint your smile, on your lips,"
"Fake from your head down to your wingtips,"
"A school boy's dream, you act so shy,"
"Your first real kiss was your first kiss goodbye."
>With the chorus coming back, you can see ponies already cringing and turning away, but not her.
"Oh, oh, you're a loaded gun,"
"Oh, oh, there's nowhere to run,"
"It's too late to save me,"
"Your damage is done."
>You catch a momentary wince from her before the next line, and the next shot, ring out.
"Shot through the heart,"
"And you're to blame,"
"You give love a bad name."
>"Bad name,"
"You played my heart,"
"And you play your game,"
"You give love a bad name."
>"Bad name,"
>A guitar solo starts, giving you a moment to breathe, and you just stare out at the crowd, watching the seeds of anger settling in them.
>It slowly builds to a crescendo before all instruments save a steady beat on the drum stop.
"Shot through the heart,"
>The third and final shot rings out, straight down the center, causing the crowd to gasp.
"And you're to blame,"
"You give love a bad name."
>"Bad name,"
>The guitars return full swing, amplifying the energy of the room.
"You played my heart,"
"And you play your game,"
"You give love a bad name."
>"Bad name,"
>Each rendition looks like a psychological blow to her, as you sing, walking across stage slowly
"You give love a bad name."
>"Bad name,"
"You give love a bad name."
>"Bad name."
>After the last time, the music starts to die, and the illusionary daughter in front of you drops the bleeding chunk that was a heart, before hugging your chest.
>"Kicking" the heart over the crowd, it bursts and vanishes, your "daughter" phasing into your chest.
>The ambient magic dissipates, and you give a short bow, setting the mic back and walking back to your spot, ordering another cider as you go.
>To say the crowd erupted would be a good analogue, as a quiet persisted shortly after your song, but bt the time you reached your spot, the pressure released, and shouting and threats filled the air, all directed at the unnamed mare of the song.
>A psychological army unknowingly assaulting one of their princesses as they rage against a sad song.
>Your drink arrives quickly with a soft smile and a gentle pat from the waitress before she moves on.
>Slowly mentally droning out the room, you let your mind wander to your daughter, the one you thought was dead before she could live, removed by an uncaring mother.
>Nine months you were stuck in a deep depression while She was off for "Exchange classes".
>You woke one day to a basket on your doorstep, and at that point, your life was thrown for a loop.
>Now, though, everything is nice and stable, you're making enough to support the two of you with no problem.
>Enough so that you can spend nights out like this once in a while, though most turn out better.
>Starting the new mug, you notice a pony approaching your table.
>One eye focuses on them, while your body reflexively handles the cider.
>Nearing, they pause a moment, before taking a seat across from you.
>"You're the one who sang that, right? Is it true?" a soft female voice asks as she looks up at your eyes,
"Yes, though it's from the past. And you are?"
>"Pardon my rudeness, My name's Fleur de Lis, I'm a model with Canterlot's biggest agency."
"If you're hoping to hire me for my singing or whatever, fuck off now, and save yourself some trouble."
>"Nothing of the sort. Besides, not many would like your brand of music, it's quite dangerous."
>Gesturing around, she indicates the near riot in the bar, before letting out a chuckle.
>"Well, not that it concerns me, I just figured I'd say hi to an old classmate, see how you were doing, though by the sounds of it, not well."
"Hmn? I don't remember you, though because of circumstances, I did have to quit a year early."
>"I'm not surprised, I was all legs back then, and my mane was always a mess so I tried to hide in the background."
"Ah, I do remember you now. Time has certainly worked in your favour, it seems, I can see why you're a model."
>Your comment gets her to laugh again, though she suppresses it swiftly with a hoof.
>"Time's been quite kind to you as well; you've filled out nicely, and truth be told, you're more attractive than before."
>"Still, it's not exactly like you had to be hot back then, you were the dimensional alien who was dating the hottest pony in school who was also a princess."
"All the guys wanted to be me, and all the girls wanted to be with me," you say, making air quotes with your hands and rolling your eyes.
>"Yes, it was stupid, but unfortunately, true, for the most part."
"Lemme guess, you were one of the girls lusting for me?" you ask, a small smile forming.
>Rose hue rises in her cheeks, and she nods, saying, "It was more of a dream back then, being one of the least popular girls in school, but yes, I've had fantasys of you."
"TMI, Fleur, TMI. So, how was school after I left?"
>"Well, Cadence came back from her exchange classes not long after you left, and she started dating a unicorn named Shining Armor not long after that. They ended up married a year or so ago."
>"What about you, why did you leave?"
"I can't tell you that, but I can tell you I found a job right after, and have been working since."
>"And your daughter? Do you have a wife, or did you break up or something?"
"Another thing I can't tell you, but she's growing up well without a mother, wait, how'd you know I have a daughter?"
>"The song, remember."
"Right," you say, smacking your forehead with your palm.
>She lets out a laugh, before waving over a server to order a drink.
>"Bring me three mugs of cider, nothing fancy."
"Trying to get me drunk?" you ask as the server walks away.
>"No, one's for you, the others are for myself. That is, if you'll have my company for the time being."
"Sure, I don't see why not," you say with a shrug, taking a sip of your drink.
>The drinks arrive soon, and the two of you chat, mainly reminiscing about school, and how different it was from your varied positions.
>Soon, it's late, and you get up from your spot.
"Sorry I can't talk any longer, I have to be home to pay the sitter soon."
>"No problem. Hopefully we can do this again some time, it was fun."
"Sure, but how will we get in contact?"
>From nowhere, she flicks out a business card, holding it out for you.
>"Drop a letter or stop bye, I'll make sure you get in."
"Sure," you say, taking and pocketing the small strip of card stock.
>Paying your tab, you step out the door before a realization hits you.
>You just agreed to basically go on a date.
>Shrugging, you think, 'what's the worst that could happen.'