Alone Together

by Cynical

Rating: teen
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad
Length: 2611

Very few surviving ponies came to see Twilight Sparkle's funeral

Twilight Sparkle lived a long and happy life, now there's only the matter of what comes afterwards.

Authors Note: Another story out of the way... let the progress train continue!

Published 2013-11-24 14:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-11-24 14:20:01 UTC

Candles in the Night

Twilight Sparkle died happily at the age of 100; three months, eleven days and thirty-six seconds past her last birthday.

The party had been memorable, if not because of its size and amazing sustainability, then for the pony who had run it. Pinkie Pie, but five months younger than Twilight herself, had planned it with a cheerful demeanour and a wide smile, all from the comfort of the party planning agency. It had been a while since Pinkie had been able to walk unaided; it had been a while since either of them had been able to do everything they could in their youth.

That didn't change the fact that her own time had come at last though. The great mare in the sky had called her and she would inevitably answer.

Not even magic could alter death.

Twilight was not a particularly religious pony… in fact, if anyone had told tried to preach the existence of the afterlife to her, she would have scoffed at them and slammed the door in their face. And yet…

It rained on the day of Twilight Sparkle’s funeral.

The clouds filled the skies and painted the landscape dull and drab. It was impossible to tell whether the sun had risen or was setting as Celestia stood sombre in the graveyard. Behind her, the coffin was laid next to a deep hole in the earth; the pony within left to slumber forevermore.

The rest of the graveyard was occupied by around ten ponies, several of them as old as – if not older than – the pony in the coffin. The head of Canterlot university was one of the few ponies there still in work. He wasn’t due for retirement for another five years and Twilight had been one of the universities best tutors. He’d never actually met her, but his predecessor had sung her praises.

Pinkie Pie was there too, accompanied by her colt and grandcolt. They’d only come because Pinkie had insisted, point-blank, that she was going to come, rain or shine. They’d insisted on coming to make sure that Pinkie didn’t hurt herself or catch a chill. Pinkie’s grandcolt had never met the pony his grandmother mourned for.

Twilight was hid beneath a tree on the edge of the graveyard and saw it all, which was a surprise. She watched the funeral with indifference. She’d known all the ponies at the funeral and was slightly disappointed that there wasn’t more there.

Fluttershy’s funeral had been filled to the brim with ponies that remembered her.

Rainbow’s funeral had been packed with ponies that respected her.

Rarity’s funeral had been crowded with ponies that knew her.

Applejack’s funeral had been populated by the ponies that loved her.

Twilight’s funeral… hadn’t. Even Spike's funeral had had more well-wishers than hers had.

It had been around eighty years since Pinkie, Twilight, Applejack, Rarity, Rainbow and Fluttershy had beaten the last nasty from tartarus. After that, they’d got on with their lives and ponies had gradually forgotten them. From being the ponies that you called when Equestria was being invaded, they steadily went from crisis solvers, to pickle-jar openers as time went by.

Those that stayed anyway; Rainbow and Rarity had left to make it big, succeeding in doing so only until their deaths. Pinkie, Applejack and Fluttershy had never moved away from Ponyville, preferring to live there forever with one another, doing what they loved together. Twilight had travelled around the world, she’d seen so much and done so much, but she had still come back to Ponyville, and she’d still died in Ponyville.

She turned her back on the funeral. She’d already lived through four other funerals that had torn her heart apart; her own didn’t seem that important. There was the whole issue of still being there to sort out first. She was very certain that she was dead. The pony in the coffin was a testament to that, yet there she was. Or, she thought she was anyway.

She looked around the graveyard again, the rain still falling around her quietly. There was no wind; that was the odd thing about today. The leaves remained still and silent even as the rain poured down upon them.

Somewhere out of the corner of her eye, she saw Celestia bow her head and the coffin lift itself into its final resting place. Twilight smiled briefly to herself. It didn’t really seem to matter anymore.

She was dead - God… that felt like a weight off her chest – and mortal life no-longer needed to matter to her. She could do anything she wanted now… hold herself to no deadlines or rules. She was free…

And still here.

Twilight’s smile died slightly. It did seem like quite a large sticking point as catches went. She had no idea what to do now… At a lack of any other ideas, she walked forwards, towards her grave. The ponies present all lifted their heads from their own prayers and nodded a farewell to Celestia, even as the pony within the grave walked between them.

Celestia sighed and headed over to Pinkie Pie, her eyes sliding over Twilight as if she was nothing more than the graves behind her. “Celestia!” she shouted, waving her hoof hopefully, hoping for some reaction even as none came.

Her hoof slowed and fell to the ground soundlessly, her smile dropping along with it. “Pinkie Pie?” she tried, walking over to her only friend in the graveyard. Pinkie didn’t glace over at her… nor did she show any sign of hearing her. Instead, she murmured a few words to Celestia, who nodded, then spoke to her descendants.

They smiled weakly at her before taking the wheelchair and heading towards the exit with Pinkie. Twilight watched after them, her hope crumbling as they all walked past her… then through her.

“No… no…” she muttered to herself, backing up until she met resistance. Glancing back, she realised that the resistance was her own gravestone.

She jumped as if electrocuted and fled as fast as she could. She ran through wood and stone and flesh and metal. The graveyard flashed her by as she escaped the reality of her situation. She was alone. She was left here, where no-one could see her and she could see them.

She slowed her pace to a trot; she was far enough from the graveyard now. She drew in a deep breath, trying to calm down her heart… if she even had one now. Curiously, she moved a hoof over her chest, trying to feel the steadying thump-thump that had been her companion for as long as she could remember.

Steady silence and stillness met her enquiry and she slowly lowered her hoof again, trying not to revert into another panic attack.

Trying to get her mind off the matter and hand, she looked around herself… she knew where she was- she always knew where she was. She was a few blocks from her own home in fact… the Frills and Spills store being just ahead of her. She remembered once, a long time ago, when it had been called the Carousel Boutique.

“I want to go home…”

It was a moment before she realised that the whisper on the breeze was her own… or maybe it was the breeze itself. Nevertheless, she started down the road again, turning towards the house that she’d spent most of her life within. No matter where she went, whether it was the upper-class mansions of Canterlot or the high-rise futuristic flats of Tokyoke, she always remembered her home in Ponyville the fondest.

It was how she remembered it… The great canopy covered the aged tree well… she wondered just how old it was. Grimacing to herself, she moved towards the front door, lending her hoof out to open it before her when it passed straight through.

“Guess I’ve got to get used to that now…” she sighed to herself as she followed after her hoof, passing through the door and into the town library that was her home. Books were scattered across the floor from her previous assignment, her final project, and the library was cold. She couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing living was in this library, that all it housed now was knowledge and herself.

She lit her horn, preparing to send the books back to their proper place on the shelves; no point leaving behind a messy library for the next pony to come wandering in.

Nothing happened.

Twilight frowned, concentrating more and letting sparks fizzle out from her horn as she tried to move the stolid book. Screaming in anger at the unfairness of it all, she moved forwards and kicked the book, sending it rocketing through the library and into the shelves, causing an avalanche of books to cascade down.

Tears in her eyes, Twilight sat down, resting her back against the library walls as the book she’d send careening landed in front of her. Still sobbing quietly, she glanced at the title, Moving On: What Waits For Us After The Grave? She kicked the book away again, sending it skittering across the floor and into the mound of literature that had now joined it.

The tears continued to drip their way down her face as she paused. She looked up from her hooves at the book; now resting in the middle of the room. She lifted a hoof to dry her eyes and stood up again. The book was still sat there inconspicuously. She moved towards it and cautiously prodded it. Her hoof went straight through again.

“Did that really just happen?” she wondered aloud, looking around the library and at the bigger pile of books. “What just happened?” she thought out loud again, looking around for anything that could have caused it. “I got angry and then I hit… the… book…” she tailed off, looking at her hoof in amazement. “I can move things…” she said quietly, “But… how?”

A rustling to her left made her jump and she span around, looking into the deserted library as a lone quill lifted itself up from the desk.

“Hello?” she shouted into the library, her voice quavering slightly, “Who’s there?”

The quill ignored her and dipped itself in ink before it started writing on the paper, still laid out on the desk where she’d put it… just before she’d died.

‘Hello, it’s been a long time since I’ve had company I could talk to. What’s your name?’

“T- Twilight Sparkle,” she stammered out, looking around for whoever had held the quill. She’d heard the rumours about how her library was haunted and dismissed them instantly… but maybe it was… “What do you want?” she asked into the empty space, waiting for a reply.

And she waited, and waited, and waited. No reply made itself known as the quill laid itself in front of the paper on the desk, the ink still fresh on the nib, as if inviting her to write on the paper.

Maybe it is… she thought to herself, Maybe it can’t hear me? Maybe it’s deaf? She bit her lip and approached the writing desk. There was no-one here, no indication that anyone had been there to pick up the quill… so who had?

She leant forwards and tried to pick the quill up with her mouth, only for it to slide straight through her. She frowned and tried again, again, unsuccessfully. She growled in frustration and leant forwards, determined that she’d pick it up this time.

It came as a slight surprise when she felt the quill in her mouth, firm and real. Surprised, she stayed like that for a moment until she remembered why she’d picked up the quill in the first place. Her writing was scratchy and inelegant, having not used her mouth to write anything for a long time. Yet eventually, the words ‘I am Twilight Sparkle, who are you?’ were finally written out on the paper, just beneath the original greeting.

Smiling to herself, she backed away from the desk, quill still clutched in her mouth, and waited. After about a minute of nothing happening, she sighed, letting the quill roll around her mouth experimentally. She felt the quill jolt in her mouth and she started, surprised. The quill jolted again, a light tugging that moved it back and forth between Twilight’s teeth.

She opened her mouth in an ‘o’ of surprise and watched as the quill kept itself in the air. It was shook once, twice, then taken back to the writing desk. Twilight winced… she’d forgotten to leave the quill for the other thing’s use.

Soon enough though, it started writing again, leaving a fine trail of ink from the first letter to the last as it penned the words.

‘I forgot my name a long time ago, Twilight Sparkle. I just remember that I was once a pegasus who lived in Ponyville and was fond of reading. Why did you come here?’

Once again, the quill was laid at the foot of the desk, ready to be used again by Twilight. She picked it up, rolling it around her mouth again and trying to contain her relief that here was someone else who she could interact with.

‘I used to live here. I’m sorry to hear that you forgot your name. How long have you been living here then?’

‘About forty, fifty years. The days tend to all roll into one after enough time. You must be new here then?’

‘Yes; I woke up about an hour or two ago and found myself at my own funeral.’

She dropped the quill again and waited once more. Yet the quill stated static, leaving her words as the last letters on the sheet. A minute passed, then another. Still, the quill remained untouched.

Twilight leant forwards again to pick up the quill and prompt the other pony when it jumped to attention of its own accord. She sat back again as the quill started scribbling again, frantic to get its words onto the paper.

‘I remember… I remember you now. We all came to see you go. There were so many of us packed into that small graveyard, they owe their happiness to you if not their lives… their extended lives anyway. All of us; packed so close that not even the wind could reach the leaves and the grass.’

Twilight shivered as the quill continued scribbling. She felt like someone, or several someones, had walked across her grave. At least it explained the lack of wind.

‘We said goodbye to you, Twilight. We wished you well on your journey. How the wind sang around us… not a one of us was visible yet we all knew we were there. Spike, Rarity, Fluttershy and Applejack all sang you luck. They all wished you well in death. And I sang, Twi; I sang the loudest… the weather was mine to control and I controlled it for you.’

Was that a lump in her throat? She couldn’t tell.

‘We wanted you to remember, Twi… Even though you can’t see any of us and we can’t see you. Even though we might never hear our own voices again, we want you to know…’

‘You are not alone.’

Author's Note

Well that ended up differently than when I thought it up...

For those interested... the original incarceration would have been much more sad and feel-y as she realised that she could have no impact on the world or talk to her only surviving friend.

But... since it wasn't, who cares.

Expanded explanation of the dynamic is Here