The Cost of Life
Twilight Sparkle awoke with the sunrise.
Golden light streaming through the window beat back the pale bluish-white of fluorescent tubes above her. Her eyes, fighting off their weighty lids, immediately set onto the brightest object in the room.
“Good morning, Twilight,” the white stallion greeted with gentle cheer.
“Mmm, morning,” Twilight replied, her thready voice nearly lost beneath the beeps and whirrs of the life-support machinery at her bedside. “How long have you been here?”
“Not long. It was already getting light out when I came in.”
“Good,” she declared with a weak sigh. A satisfying yawn brought forth a smile. “As endearing as it is for my big brother to keep a bedside vigil all night long, it was starting to get kinda creepy.”
Then, she noticed.
“Hey, you’re awfully happy. Like, really happy. What’s going on?”
The other pony turned aside guiltily. “I’m just glad I get to look at you.”
One of the purple mare’s eyebrows gained altitude. “Nuh-uh. I'm not buying that. Last time you were here you could barely keep it together. What’s going on?”
“Well…” The stallion hesitated. “I’m happy because everything is going to be all right. You’re going to be all right.”
“Wh– what are you talking about?” Seeing his reluctance, she prodded further. “I’m going to find out one way or another. Out with it. Now.”
“Twilight, they found a donor. You’re going to get the operation – today. And you’re going to live a long time and you’re going do so much. That’s why I’m happy.” He leaned down and nuzzled underneath a purple ear.
The smaller unicorn struggled to push him away, having barely the energy to lift her own hoof. “Wait, how– how is that possible? They found a compatible donor?” She received an assured nod in reply. “But– but– I read all the reports. The TGLH-1 antigen is this crazy mutation; it’s not in the population at all. Only ponies in our family have any chance of expressing it and even then…” Her eyes went wide. “Wait. Y– you?!”
“Yeah.” Grinning all-too-proudly, he tapped a hoof to his chest. “They ran all the tests. TLGH-1 positive. Compatible donor, right here.”
Twilight’s face pulled back into an expression of unmitigated horror. One of the machines started beeping noticeably faster. “No… no…”
Her previously weak, small voice exploded.
“NO! You can’t do that!”
“Twilight, calm down.”
“No! You can’t do that!” the terrified mare screamed. “Are you crazy?! Do you even know what you’re saying?!” Her attempts to rise from the bed were futile, as the minimal force of the stallion’s hooves easily pinned down her thrashing frame. “You can’t do that! You’ll die!”
“I know. Twilight, it’s okay.”
“No! Shut up! I won’t let you! You can’t!”
“Shhhh…” The stallion took no notice of the purple forelimbs pounding ineffectually against his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Then tell me you’re not going to die!”
His head shook sadly. “I can’t lie to you, Twilight.”
Her momentary burst of energy exhausted, the purple mare’s struggles stopped and she lay limply on her back, tossing out further objections between ragged breaths. “You can’t… I won’t let you… They won’t let you… It’s… it’s a violation of medical ethics. And… and they need my consent anyway… so it won’t work. You understand? …Your stupid plan won’t work!”
A pinkish magical aura brought a cloth to her face and began drying the wetness there.
“You can’t do this…”
“Twilight, you’re more important than you know. Equestria needs you.”
“What? More than it needs you?”
“Yes.”
“Shut up!” Twilight’s horn sparked briefly, only to sputter out. She grabbed the cloth with her hooves instead and pressed it to her nose, blowing fiercely. “You’re not going to kill yourself for me. I’ll let Princess Celestia know, and she’ll have you put under watch, and you won’t be able to do anything!”
“Celestia already knows.”
“You’re lying! The princess wouldn’t allow that!”
“Twilight, I already told you I can’t lie to you. I wasn’t even supposed to say anything in the first place. It’s very bad for you to get stressed like this. I’m sorry.”
“You’re crazy,” she repeated. “You’re talking about suicide. A clear symptom of mental illness.”
The larger pony laughed openly. “You do realise that makes the entire Royal Guard into a nuthouse, right? Every single pony in the Guard has to be willing and able to give their life to save another at any time.”
“That’s different. It’s… it’s not the same thing at all…” Now lacking the energy for both anger and sadness, Twilight settled on the latter and sobbed, punctuating it with a few coughs. The beeping was slowing down. She soon found a pair of powerful forelegs wrapped around her, lifting her upper body just a few inches.
“Listen,” a caring voice whispered in her ear, “because this is important. This is my choice. Don’t let anypony – even yourself – ever tell you different. I’m doing this because I love you. I love you, Twilight, more than you can understand. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t do absolutely everything I could to help you.”
The mare’s voice was barely audible. “What about Cadance… the… the Crystal Empire… you can’t…”
“It’s all taken care of. Believe me.” He loosened the embrace, and met her eyes. Their horns touched. “I know this won’t make sense to you right now, but this… this is my destiny. This is what I was meant to do. My whole life is about this moment. I always knew it… even before I met you. I knew.”
Twilight stared at him.
He was still smiling.
“You are crazy.”
“You know what? I’m not even going to argue with you. I’ve screwed things up enough already.”
She gave an incredulous look. “Not going to argue? Admitting you screwed up? That explains it. You’re not really my brother, are you?”
A chuckle. “Nope. I just look and sound exactly like him.”
Fresh supplies of tears pooled in her eyes. Her weak limbs somehow found the strength to latch on tight. “You can’t do this. I love you. Please. You’re supposed to be my B.B.B.F.F. That last ‘F’ doesn’t count if you just up and die on me! I’ll hate you forever if you do this!”
The stallion’s muzzle rubbed softly into her neck. “Twilight, you’re being selfish.”
“Whuh?”
“You’re thinking it’s going to hurt, knowing that I died to save you. But if you die, it’ll hurt me a lot more. So you want to spare your own feelings and hurt me in the process. That’s selfish of you. Stop it.”
Twilight choked back more sobs. “This isn’t fair… I can’t argue with you now… logic… ethics… I’m an expert. I could beat you any other day… It’s not fair for you to do it now…” Her eyes closed, and her body relaxed as a hoof massaged her withers. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, “I’m going to stop you. Can’t outsmart me, you jerk…”
The white pony’s horn was alight. “Always remember, Twilight, that your brother loves you very much. Don’t get so mad at him, okay?”
The mare reopened her eyes to discover a pink halo surrounding her. “Is– is that…?”
“Good Night Sleep Tight,” he confirmed. “Cadance taught me.”
“Not fair… cheater…”
With that, her eyes shut once more, head lolling against his shoulder.
A final droplet rolled down her cheek.
He laid her unconscious form back down on the bed, tucking in the sheets carefully around her. His lips delivered a kiss – soft and fleeting – at the base of her horn. “When you wake up, everything will be okay. I promise.” He lingered for a short while more, simply taking in the sight of the sleeping pony with marked contentment.
A militarily purposeful trot took him out and down a short length of sterile hallway, to an equally-sterile room distinguishable from the many others only by the number on its door.
Three other ponies waited for him there.
“I’m ready,” he announced, his assured tone interrupting the stark silence.
Two of the room’s occupants – a stallion and mare clad in white doctors’ coats – looked quickly to him, then to the final pony. She stood head and shoulders above them, so they both had to crane their necks upward to see the alicorn’s curt nod giving them permission to leave. Their stares fixed firmly on the floor as they vacated.
The new arrival watched them go with a small frown. “Not very personable, are they?”
“Please excuse them,” Celestia replied, her stoic voice and countenance marred only in the slightest measure by a tinge of nonspecific anxiousness. “I’m certain they do not mean to be rude. I expect that they simply don’t know how to act in this situation and so fall back to cold professionalism.”
The unicorn nodded. “Heh. I get that.” He paused, then smiled. “Kinda ironic, if you ask me. Everypony’s getting so worked up. It seems I’m the only one who doesn’t see it as such a big deal, and I’m the one who’s about to die.”
The princess examined his careless, boyish grin. “Death, when it is known in advance, is often hardest for those around the one who is to leave.” She extended a wing, and draped it over him, pulling closer so that they were now side-to-side, and gave a small, troubled smile of her own. “Although their reactions may seem negative, it simply means that in one way or another… they care for you.”
“I guess… that’s a pretty nice thought.”
On those words, the two ponies stared ahead into nothingness. An uneventful minute passed.
“I really should get on with it now, shouldn’t I?”
Celestia’s wing gently retreated. “A few minutes will change very little for Twilight. Is there anything else you wish to do? Anypony you’d like to speak with? Cadance, perhaps?” Her smile was gone, and her questions had a hint of pleading to them.
“Nah.” He waved of his hoof. “She’d just get upset again.”
“Anything else then?”
“Hm.” He scratched at his chin. “Some hay fries would be nice right about now, but I think the doc said it’s not a good idea to have a full stomach…”
“It cannot be so important. I’ll call the nurse and we can place an order–”
“I was joking,” he clarified, suppressing a chuckle, “I’m not really hungry.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, there’s nothing left,” he summarised. “I’m done.”
Celestia’s eyes desperately searched for something that, for all her effort, could not be found.
A way out.
She inhaled deeply. “Are you certain you wish to do this yourself? The doctors have methods – typically used in cases of euthanasia – but I’m told they would be quite effective…”
“So that I can pass away peacefully in bed, in my sleep?” The unicorn’s head shook, his mouth scrunched as if the idea had physically bitter taste. “It’s just not me. If it’s all the same in the end, I’d rather die on my hooves, with my eyes open.”
The alicorn nodded. “As you wish.” Another pause. Another round of searching. “And you know the spell?”
“I learned it forwards and backwards. It’s not even that hard; basic magic. I’m sure I can manage it.”
“It is painless,” Celestia assured, though she seemed to be speaking more to herself than him.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about that,” he said with sudden focus. “How does anypony know it’s painless? If it’s one hundred percent lethal, there isn’t anypony around to give a first-hoof report of the effects, is there?”
The alicorn’s head pulled back a fraction of an inch, her lips thinning uncomfortably. “I suppose that it is thought to be painless because it is nearly instantaneous. There simply isn’t time to feel pain.”
“Time is subjective, isn’t it, though? Heh. I should know better than anypony.” His gaze turned distant and strangely amused. “What if that tiny fraction of a second is so horrible that it actually feels like years of agony? Guess I’m about to find out.”
He finally took notice that Celestia had the appearance of sitting on a bed of needles surrounded by lava in the middle of a changeling hive.
“Sorry,” he said, his ears sinking apologetically, “I have a problem with knowing when to shut up.”
The mare swallowed hard. “You don’t have to do this.” Even barely above a whisper, her voice was still authoritative and clear. “Despite anything I may have said before, despite what’s at stake, and how important Twilight is to me and to all of Equestria, I can’t – I won’t – order you to lay down your life for her. Know that if you choose to walk away, nopony will stop you.”
This brought forth a smirk. “Getting cold hooves?”
She looked to him with a pained half-smile, her eyes crinkling at the sides. “Just trying to convince myself there is a difference between asking and demanding that you do this… even though I know there is none.”
The stallion snorted. “Ask, demand, order… it doesn’t matter. I knew what I had to do from the start. With all due respect, princess…” His body turned to face her head-on, their muzzles apart by inches, eyes determined. “…you couldn’t stop me if you wanted to.”
He moved away a few steps, planting his legs in wide stance and, with unwavering smugness, threw up a hoof in quick salute. “It’s been an honour to know you, Princess Celestia.”
She mirrored the motion, and added a respectful tilt. “Likewise. Good journey. And… thank you.”
Her gaze found the exit.
“I suppose I will leave you to it, then.”
“Actually…” he stopped her in mid-step, his voice and smile at once a shade softer. “I reconsidered that part. If it’s not too much trouble… I’d like it if you stayed. I don’t think I want to be completely alone.”
The alicorn took her place by his side, and once more he was within her plumage. “Of course.”
“Tell Twilight that I… nah, never mind. She’ll figure it out.”
The unicorn took a deep breath, and, standing no further delay, charged his horn. The aura at the tip grew brighter, progressing gradually from its natural rosish glow into a brilliant, almost viciously blinding white spark. He squinted against the light, but remained true to his word – he refused to shut his eyes.
In an instant, the build-up released, deadly energies surging back to their source. The pony’s every muscle tensed, then immediately went slack. His frame would have toppled over if not for Celestia’s wing still against it. As such, she was able to lower it gently to the ground.
“Doctors!”
Within seconds a duo of physicians, followed by a further three somewhat-awkward-looking nurses pushing a gurney, filed into the room. Immediately they set upon the downed body, placing it on the gurney, attaching various bits of medical equipment, diligently examining it from the core to the extremities, shining light into the eyes, measuring responses to various pokes and prods, and making other sundry tests. One pulled open the jaw and expertly thrust in a breathing tube, which was then connected to a machine pump. Short, informative assertions about heart rate, oxygen level, magic charge, and reflex responses flowed among the group. After several minutes, the pony in charge separated himself from the rest to dispassionately announce their conclusion.
“Time of death: Five twenty-five A. M.”
Celestia reclaimed the space she had given them to work. The announcing doctor turned to face her approach, looking suddenly nervous as he made his report.
“We– uh… We’ve confirmed brain death. The rest is, as near as we can tell, in perfect condition. That includes all vital organs.”
“The constituent field?”
“We measure it stable at point two two. It looks like our theory was correct, thank Celest– uh– thank heavens. We can keep the organs viable for a few days at least, but in Miss Sparkle’s case, we’d like to proceed sooner rather than later. I believe she’s being prepped for surgery as we speak.”
“Very well. Proceed.”
She followed the stretcher out. Her ears twitched at the sound of another pony approaching at full canter.
“Cadance,” she stated somberly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that,” the younger princess hissed. Then, to the medics, “I want to see him.”
“It is already over,” Celestia insisted.
“I want to see him.”
With the smaller alicorn looking ready to do grievous harm to any opposition, and the larger offering no further objection, the white sheet was pulled back. The former stallion’s eyes had been shut, and the slow, rhythmic expansions of his chest produced by the mechanical ventilator gave him the appearance of a pony asleep – ill, but certainly not dead.
Still, nopony could doubt the truth of the situation.
Cadance let out a tiny gasp. Her hooves reached out, brushing the blues of his mane and tracing his cheeks. A few tears dripped from her muzzle to wet the material of the gurney.
A unicorn stallion arrived at her side, adding to the already-crowded hallway. She shrugged off the comforting hoof he tried to place on her.
“This is sick,” she told Celestia through gritted teeth. “You’re sick for thinking it up.”
“Cady, please don’t,” Shining Armor pleaded.
“And you’re as bad as she is,” Cadance snapped back, “going along with it!”
The unicorn’s distressed gaze wavered between his wife and his own deceased double. “It’s... it’s what he wanted. It’s what I would’ve done in his place.”
“It’s much more than that,” Celestia explained. “When Shining Armor looked into the mirror pool, his thoughts were of Twilight, and his desire to save her at any cost. This… pony… is quite literally a reflection of Shining Armor’s love, dedication, and sacrifice for his sister. To die for her was his destiny, in the truest sense.”
“Is that supposed to make it right?!”
Celestia’s regal countenance was tempered steel against Cadance’s fury. “I doubt any of this will ever feel right. I do not claim that it is. But it was necessary.”
“I wonder if Twilight will agree with you. You never even gave her a choice, did you?”
“Cady...”
“Quiet!”
Shining’s Armor’s ears pinned back, and he retreated.
His wife wiped her soaked cheek, thunderbolts still in her eyes. “I love Twilight, too. But I know she wouldn’t want this.” She choked against her own tears, and waved off the doctors, who were all too relieved at the chance to escape with their prize. “When Twilight gets better, you better believe I’m going to help her rip you both to shreds!”
With that, she stomped off.
Shining Armor made to follow, but Celestia held him back.
“Give her time. She will come around, eventually. So will Twilight. We will simply have to be patient.”
Her words had no effect. With no warning, he swung, taking out a chunk of wall with his bare hoof. “Dammit! I should’ve just gone through with it myself! Why in blazes did I let you talk me out of it?!” A few pants escaped his muzzle. “I’m a coward,” he concluded.
“Shining Armor, you are no coward, and nopony can question your dedication. This was a matter of doing what was best for everypony involved. His death is a tragedy, but your death would have been much worse. You have an empire that needs you, a wife and a sister who love you deeply… and from what I hear, a child on the way.”
“So that makes my life more valuable than his,” he mocked.
“You know I cannot say that. But the consequences of his absence are… easier to deal with. I don’t deny that he was a good pony, but he had no past. No future beyond helping Twilight. No responsibilities and no family.”
“No!” Shining Armor countered. “You’re wrong! Maybe he only lived for a few days, and maybe he wasn’t born the same way the rest of us were… but he had a family.”
He turned and walked away, chancing only a single, agonised look back.
“He was my brother.”
