Death's Terrible, Horrible, Very Bad Day

Death stared out at the great field stretched out in front of him...well, technically, it was a small courtyard in the middle of Canterlot, but at the moment it could have been the largest field in Equestria, for right at its center was one of the things he loved most.

"Chocolate!"

The red stallion behind the counter of the concession stand was mocking him with his cries of "Chocolate! Fresh chocolate here!" Death could just tell. The only thing Death wanted right now was some of the sweet, nutty, unfortunately tooth decaying decadence known as chocolate.

He remembered when ponies had first discovered how to make chocolate. It was like they had hit gold. Dark, brown, delicious gold. Everypony started trying to make it, so long as they had nothing more important to do. It was heaven for ponies like Death, who simply craved the stuff.

Unfortunately, it came to a rather abrupt end when almost every foal in Equestria had dentures. Wooden teeth, really, with springs in them. And the things had a nasty habit of snapping down on their own, often times cutting off lips and tounges in the process.

But none of that mattered, because now he was on the job, and, due to the enormously long line in front of the concession stand, did not have time to indulge himself in that sweet, melty candy.

It was all a bunch of horseapples.

And so continued Death's terrible, horrible, very bad day.

As he walked through the square, trying desperately to keep his mind off of the treat he was missing out on, Death thought about why he couldn't snack. Fate had, once again, screwed him over with one of her mistakes. A molasses factory had somehow been set ablaze. That made three horrible incidents in one day, possibly counting. Death had always known that Fate had it in for him. He just never knew the extent to which she was willing to go. Massacring dozens of ponies a day just to make his job harder was unacceptable. What was worse was that the Elders seemed to believe her when she shrugged them off as accidents. It was just terrible.

Trotting out of the square, he looked to the skies. He knew that Fate's brother, Destiny, had scheduled a fly over by the Wonderbolts. It was an elaborate advertisement gig, but an effective and fun one, at that. Sure enough, five ponies dressed up in the trademark Wonderbolts jumpsuits flew overhead, the crowd gasping as they spelled out the name of their troupe in trails of smoke in the sky. It was a magnificent display, really. Destiny had done a great job planning it out.

Once the show had finished. Death trotted on, cloaking himself as he drew nearer to his destination. It didn't take long for him to see the hulking, blackened husk of the factory in front of him. It was teeming with spirits, all complaining, whining, and just being miserable. Understandable, considering that they had all just burnt to death.

"Excuse me," shouted Death, stepping into what was left of the building. "If I could have your attention, please?"

The ghostly workers all turned to him, wondering just who this strange cloaked stallion was. To most of them, he looked like some kind of sad renaissance fair reject.

One of the spectres stepped forward. Unlike the rest of the ghosts, who were wearing face masks, hair nets and stark white uniforms, this stallion wore nothing but a faded green baseball cap, although it could have been a very light blue, as all of him had gained a somewhat transparent green tinge.

"And who are you?" asked the stallion, looking somewhat peeved. "'Cause I'm not happy right now, and I don't feel like talking go strangers."

Awry stared at the pony in front of him, contemplating whether or not he should talk to this ghost or just send him on his way.

"Well," he said, holding out his hoof, "you can call me Death."

"Oh!" said the stallion, a sudden look of rage coming over his face. "So all this is your fault, huh?!"

"Sir please, I-"

"I had a family, you know! Almost all of us did! And now we aren't going home to them, thanks to you. How do you even sleep at night? What did you just wake up this morning and say 'oh, gee, let's burn a few ponies alive today'? Is this your idea of fun? Is it? Because that is bucked up, mist-"

"SHUT UP," Death boomed, his voice resounding throughout the factory. The stallion, who he had guessed was the factory manager, clearly had plenty to say to him, but he was hardly in the mood to hear it. "You clearly do not understand my job, sir. You can blame all of your untimely deaths on my colleague, Fate, who is angry with me right now. I just send you off to the afterlife, where you can all be happy, and have a great time waiting for your loved ones to follow you, or maybe you can get reborn, if you don't like making a sweet, sticky condiment for a living. However, should you so choose, I could just leave you here, to walk Equis for all eternity, alone, maybe having fun scaring the living hay out of living ponies. Now, do you have any questions? No? Then let's begin."

A few hours later, Death was finished sending all of the disgruntled workers into the afterlife, with the exception of a few who were obviously crazed sadists who decided that they wanted to stick around and buck with superstitious ponies. None had caused as much trouble as the manager, so it had gone rather smoothly. In fact, everything had gone better than expected.

As he rounded a corner, Awry was met with the sight of somepony that he really hadn't wanted to run into today. He would have tried cloaking, but she would have been able to see him anyways, so he didn't bother.

The cream colored mare turned to look at him, her dark maroon mane swinging in her face, its slight curls bouncing in the air. She wore a maroon cape that matched her mane, and was trimmed in gold embroidery. She was really beautiful, but that didn't matter right now. What mattered was that she had a bone to pick with Death, and he was about to hear a lot from her.

"Hello, Death."

"Hello, Fate."

The two ponies stood in the street, staring at each other. Neither was too happy with the other, and this probably wouldn't turn out well

Another event to add to the list of Death's terrible, horrible, very bad day.

Fate was the first to break the silence.

"So, Awry," she said, unmistakable ire in her voice. "How has your day been?"

"Oh, you know, Sunny, terrible...mostly because of you."

If looks could kill, then the Elders would be looking for job applicants already.

"Can we take this somewhere private, Fate?"

"We could simply cloak and have all the privacy we needed.

"The novelty of talking in a room hasn't faded over the years."

"True," Fate replied, grinning. "Too bad one can't same the same for your personality."

"That is also your fault, Fate. Now, if you don't mind..."

With a stomp of Death's hoof, the two ponies found themselves in a small office. It had a desk, an empty bookshelf, a chair, and a lone window, through which snow could be seen twirling madly through the air.

"Impressive," said Fate, looking around the room as Death took a seat. "It seems that somepony has been learning, for once."

Death looked at his colleague from his desk, watching her every move. He had learnt not to trust Fate a long time ago.

"Well," fate said, leaning herself against the desk. "You wanted to talk to me, right? Shoot."

"It's about several recent incidents..."

"Dear gods, Awry, are you upset about the molasses factory? That was an accident. I already told the Elders that."

Death sighed. Fate could be a real pain in the behind sometimes.

"That isn't true, and we both know it," he said, glaring at the mare in front of him. "I understand that you're angry, but two thousand years is a little long to hold a grudge, Fate."

At this Fate turned, the smug look that she had adopted before replaced now by a look of pure hatred.

"Angry? Angry!? I'm sorry, Awry, but angry doesn't begin to cover it. You crushed me, along with all of the dreams I ever had of living a normal life. That, I refuse to forgive you for."

Awry frowned. He knew what Fate was talking about, and she was right. What he had done had destroyed Fate, and he still hadn't quite forgiven himself for doing it. But what Fate was doing was wrong, too, and this time the ponies that they were sworn to protect were being caught in the crossfire.

"Sunlight, I'm sorry. I am so sorry. But I cannot allow you to keep killing innocent ponies just to get back at me. We can settle this some other time, but not now. Not like this."

Awry looked his colleague in the eyes, and he no longer saw hatred there, nor contempt. Now all that was left was sorrow, pain. Pain that he knew he had caused.

"Fate, I-"

"No, Awry!" Fate screamed, tears flowing from her eyes. "I don't need your pity. I don't want it. You were my best friend. You were everything. And then you wouldn't let me go. You were too selfish to see me go! I wanted out, I didn't want to be some estranged, supernatural being anymore. I wanted to live a normal life, Awry. And because of you, I was denied that."

Memories flooded Awry's mind.

He was in the main hall of the Cerrerium, standing in front of the Elders, his employers. Their frail, bony bodies stood upon mahogany pedestals, and they peered through slitted eyes at the scene in front of them.

To his right, he saw Fate, her shining, beautiful mane flowing in an unfelt breeze. Next to her stood her brother, Destiny, his unkempt orange mess of a mane jutting out in all directions, his thick glasses leaning askew on his muzzle. To his left sat frail Tragedy, who was curled up on the floor, asleep. He had already given his testimony, and did not see any point in staying awake for the rest of the ceremony.

Suddenly, the Elder to the farthest left spoke, his surprisingly deep, throaty voice echoing through the hall.

"Awry Dusk, Death. What is your say? We must have an answer, in favor or against. This must be a unanimous decision in favor for this action to be taken, Sir Death, and that cannot be the case without your vote."

Death gulped, searching desperately around the room. When his eyes settled on Fate, he saw her silently pleading, hope filling her eyes.

He continued to stare at his friend, thinking about how this decision would effect both of them. This was her last chance to appeal. It was an extremely important occasion. Finally, he turned to the Elders' pedestals.

"I have come to a verdict, O Mighty Ones."

"And...?"

Death inhaled deeply, thinking about what he was about to do.

"I, Awry Dusk, Sentinel of Spirits..."

He looked once more to Fate, oh beautiful, wonderful Fate. His colleague. His friend.

"...cannot advise the release of Dancing Sunlight from the office of Fate."

He heard Fate and Destiny gasp, and Tragedy stirred in his sleep. Even the elders seemed shocked with his verdict.

"W-well then," said the leftmost Elder, stammering. "W-we will respect your decision, Sir Death." With this, he turned to Fate, frowning in sympathy for her. "Miss Dancing Sunlight, your request to be relieved of office has been denied. Adjourned!"

As the Elders enveloped themselves in magic, preparing to return to their meditation, Death turned, just in time to see Fate running out out of the hall door, slamming it behind her. She hadn't said a word, but he knew the damage was done.

Snapping out the memory, Death looked at Fate, who was still crying.

"Fate," he said, stepping toward her. "I'm sorry. I was afraid."

"Of what!?"

Death looked at the floor, frowning in shame.

"I...I was afraid of losing you. Forever. That...I just couldn't bear the thought of it. I wouldn't have admitted it, but I needed you, Sunlight. You kept me going."

Sunlight looked up, walking to the window. The storm was still buffeting the cabin, and the entire window was now frosted over.

"Y'know, I've never understood why you live here, Awry. It's so cold, so lonely..."

"Heh," Awry chuckled, joining Fate at the window. "It fits me, I guess. Besides, I like it here on the mountain. It's beautiful, in its own way."

"Yeah, it is...I suppose it really does fit you, Awry."

Death stared out the window silently, breathing slowly.

"Sooo," he said, stretching his neck. "We done talking?"

"Yep."

"No more 'accidents'?"

"No more accidents."

Death turned to face Fate, holding out his hoof.

"Truce?"

Fate looked at him, smiling. Suddenly, Death found himself trapped in a hug, the likes of which he hadn't been the recipient of for millennia.

"Absolutely, Awry."

"Uh, well...um...that was actually a lot easier than I thought it would be."

"Oh, believe me, I'm still angry with you. I just miss...I missed you."

Death sighed. He had missed her too. He had run into Fate several times over the years, but it had never felt like her. But now she was back.

"Yeah...you can let go now...please?"

Fate removed her forelegs from around Death, turning toward the door.

"That felt good. I'll show myself out."

"Bye."

Death watched as Fate stepped out the office door, closing it behind her as she walked into the cramped hallway outside. He smiled, returning to his seat. His day had just taken a good turn.

Suddenly, another report materialized over his desk, appearing in a plume of green flame and floating in front if him. This wasn't a job, though.

It was a wrong number.