-Author's Note-

Be warned – this is a mature fanfiction and contains lots of swearing, violence and sex. It's also best not to read this if you're a die-hard fan of Ember and would be offended by chapter after chapter describing her graphic death.

But if you're not, please enjoy. This is set in a universe where all the Spyro Universes are mixed-together. Expect a reference of Warfang, the Dragon City, and then another of Magma Cone in Avalar.

Ten Ways to Kill Ember

Chapter One

Death by Suffocation

I hate her.

I fucking hate her.

I hate her so much I could kill her. I hate so her much I could just sink my teeth into her delicately polished scales, savouring the taste of blood as I tore through her muscle until my teeth met bone. I could rake my claws along her small yet shapely body, relishing the rip of flesh beneath my paws, the wet sensation of blood as it ran down her pink hide and coated it with red. I could chop her tail off and rip her wings out and beat her until her pretty little face was a mess of cuts and burns and bruises. And then I could set her alight and scatter the ashes all over the realms.

I want her dead, I really fucking do. She ought to be on the floor right now: a screaming, bloodstained heap of slut - not standing here, in front of me, living, breathing.

She isn't dead.

But she will be.

"So, I was wondering if we could, like, go out shopping at the mall or something, right?"

Ember the Dragon: adolescent whore.

"And then like, after, we should go to a club or something..."

"Ember." Steam wafts out of my nostrils as I take a deep breath. In. Out. Through gritted teeth I say, "What in our ancestors' name makes you think I would come out shopping with you?"

"Your jewellery." I look blankly down at my steel choker and bracers. "You need new jewellery. It looks like shit."

I clamp my mouth shut to stop myself from tearing a chunk out of her – or worse, incinerating her. She's staring at me, blue eyes wide as saucers, and I wonder if she's finally twigged that I want to rip the life right out of her body.

"We should give you a makeover!"

No, that would be too much to ask from someone as stupid as Ember.

"Oh, it would be so fun! We could go to the Dragon City, try on some clothes – and jewellery, of course – then have our scales rubbed down and polished, and then we could have a manicure..." She babbles on and on, her eyes glazed and distant as if she is imagining it. I contemplate having my claws done – they are getting rather long, and it might be easier if they were all varnished and short and filed to a rounded point – then decide against it. How am I supposed to kill that whore of a dragon with blunt claws? "And you might actually look pretty for once!" she adds, smiling, oblivious of the fact that she's just insulted me. "I mean, if you look really different, people might think that you're not actually Cynder, you know – the 'Terror of the Skies'" - the chuckled at the title as if she couldn't believe that I could ever be terrifying - "and they might stop, like, hating you."

That fucks me right off.

She's the reason they all hate me.

She's the reason I'm in this mess right now.

She's the reason my life is in goddamn shambles.

It all started when she stole my boyfriend. It was after we'd saved the world, and people were just starting to actually trust me again after I was possessed by the Dark Master when I caught the two of them fucking. Of course, I wasn't very happy about that. I battered the chick; beat her until she was black and blue. I was just doing what any other dragon would have done if they'd caught their boyfriend cheating on them, but the Dragon Kingdom didn't take too kindly to that.

The Dragon Kingdom doesn't take too kindly to the saviour of the realms harming 'innocent' civilians.

The Guardians tried to help me, naturally – mumbled some shit about me not 'being in control', that I was 'under the Dark Master's influence' when I attacked her – but that made it worse. People didn't just treat me like a criminal; they treated me like scum. It was even worse than they'd treated me before, because they hadn't been around when the Dark Master attacked; they'd all been hiding, like the little fucking cowards they are. But now they had a living, breathing example of what I was capable of.

It's lucky they left me alive, but I wish they hadn't. I can't even go out and take a dump without someone looking at me as if I'm something disgusting they wish they hadn't seen.

Naturally, I crawled back to the Dark Master with my tail between my legs. I didn't think he'd welcome me, but I suppose he had to. When Spyro and I defeated him we trapped him in a crystal prison. He couldn't do anything but talk, really, so he needed someone to carry out his dirty work.

If I knew I'd end up working for Malefor, I never would have bothered to fight him in the first place.

"Um, earth-to-Cynder? Are you even, like, listening?"

The thing that pissed me off most, though, was that it was all for nothing. She didn't even have a proper relationship with him – it was just a few weeks of sex and then she chucked him because he was 'boring'.

But because she isn't going out with him any more, she's under the stupid impression that we're friends. No matter what I do or say to her, she never leaves me alone. She's like some rabid fangirl; a borderline stalker.

She calls it being a 'BFFL'.

"Cynder!"

"What?"

"So, I was wondering if we could, like, go out shopping at the mall or something, right?"

X

"Fuck off!" I hiss as a duo of dragonesses barge past me, glaring and whispering.

How that little pink pain managed to drag me here is beyond me.

"I'm so glad you decided to come with me, Cynder," Ember announces cheerfully. She's walking – almost skipping, really – beside me, gazing around Warfang as if she's never been here before. Her eyes glitter with excitement as she takes sight of the overpriced trinkets as well as all the male dragons around, like a child in a candy shop.

I suppose she is like a child in a candy shop when it comes to males, though. She could have any male here – any male at all. All she has to do is swing her hips a bit when she walks and bat her eyelashes at them and they all flock to her like bees to honey.

More like flies to cheap meat, I think as I feel a pang of jealousy. If any males ever look at me, it's with fear or disgust.

My thoughts turn to reality as a group of dragons walk by, all carrying bags of worthless shit. They slow as they see Ember, then immediately quicken their pace again when they catch sight of me next to her. Ember frowns as they walk away; then her eyes lighten up again as they wander over a jewellery stall.

"Ooh, we should definitely stop by that stall! Or should we keep on walking to see if we can, like, find a cheaper stall? The stall here is run by Moneybags, so it's, like, guaranteed to be expensive. Gosh, that bear is, like, so greedy! And he's fat. I could never let myself get that big. His necklaces are better quality, though. Higher prices, but, like, better necklaces. Oh, Cynder, what should we do?" She stops babbling and pauses stupidly in the middle of the street. Then she throws back her head and gives a squeal of shrill, high-pitched laughter. It's like someone dragging a fucking nail across glass. "Oh, why am I asking you? Like you know anything about necklaces! Your choker is so ugly."

I want to choke her.

"Just keep walking, slut."

"I'm not a slut!" I stomp away from her and she has to scurry to catch up with me. "Is it because I, like, called your choker ugly? Sorry, but it is. Well, I guess it's not that bad. Maybe if you had a silver one instead of steel, and, like, stuck a few gemstones on it, it might look almost pretty."

I whip around to face her. "No, Ember, I did not call you a slut because you said my choker was ugly. I called you a slut because you're a dirty little whore who likes to fuck anything with a pulse. You get attention because you're pretty" - it pained me to say it - "and then you piss away all that potential by misusing the benefits. Perhaps if you didn't constantly fucking irritate my by insulting my fashion sense, or end up fucking just about every dragon you talk to, then maybe – just maybe – I might not call you a slut."

Ember stares at me, gormless.

Then,

"Let's go and check out the scarves!"

By the fucking ancestors.

X

"Oh, yes, very nice!" approves the bear when Ember drapes one of his scarves around her neck. It's obviously one of Moneybags' sons; he's fat, he has an Arabian accent, and the scarf is far too expensive.

Ember frowns, staring at her reflection in the mirror. "I'm not sure about the colour," she mutters, half to herself. It looks fucking terrible; it's so long the end of it is in a crumpled heap on the floor. The scarf itself is so big it dwarfs her and makes her head look tiny. You can barely see her snout above fold after fold of silk.

She looks like a slutty Egyptian mummy.

"It's... It's just..."

"Too jazzy?" the bear suggests.

"Yeah," she agrees, wriggling out of the folds, "too jazzy. You got anything else?"

She winks at him, and I feel a surge of anger. I want to gouge out her eyes but I try and keep my voice sweet and steady as I murmur, "How about I choose a scarf for her?" I smile at the bear and add, "I'm her best friend. I know what she'll like."

The bear nods and allows me to rummage through the racks. I pick out a scarf - a beautiful, glittering blue ribbon of silk – and take it back to Ember.

"Oh, yes – very, very nice," smiles the bear, and then goes back to sorting through his scarves.

"It is, isn't it?" the pink dragon glows as I drape it around her neck.

"Mmm, definitely," I say. "Brings out your eyes."

She admires her appearance in the mirror for a while, and then frowns.

"Cynder? You're putting it on me too tight."

I ignore her and carry on wrapping it around her neck, like a silk cobra ready to constrict. She shakes her head around as if uncomfortable, and I continue to wring it around her neck, one fold going over her snout.

Tighter...

Tighter...

Then pull.

She doesn't look too bad at first.

And then the scarf tightens and she makes a little choking sound.

She takes a deep breath and I pull the scarf tighter – viciously this time. She splutters, and with every breath she takes I pull it tighter, strangling her, smothering her. She thrashes around but the more she moves, the tighter it gets – like a dog on a collar. "You like that, bitch?" I mumble through a mouthful of silk.

Her little pink tongue protrudes from her face; her face begins to turn blue; her blue eyes pop out and roll back in her head as she begins to lose consciousness. "Take it, you bitch. Take it."

I can feel excitement rising in my chest with every second that passes. I can imagine the headlines of the Dragon Times: '20-year-old dragon killed in tragic scarf accident'. And if they find out it was murder... Oh, what does it matter? They all fucking hate me anyway.

Just a few more seconds and she'll be out of it for good. It's a shame I had to kill her by strangling her, though – I quite fancied ripping her throat out with my teeth and claws, or sending her up in smoke.

Just a few more seconds and she'll be dead...

Dead...

Dead...

"Oh dear - I think you've tied that scarf a little too tight!"

Fuck.

I fucking hate bears.

"Whatever. Didn't like that tacky piece of shit anyway."

"Too jazzy?"

"Oh, fuck off."

-Author's Note -

The last part of the chapter is a reference to the Inbetweeners.

Now, before you review with some abuse-filled comment about me being an Ember-hater...

I'm really not. Honestly, I actually love Ember. And I don't like Cynder - hate her, in fact. I just thought this story would be fun to write.

Please do review if you have any ideas on how Ember can die. :)

Scarlet x