When I Consider How My Light is Spent

by Cynewulf

Rating: teen
Tags: Main 6, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Rainbow Dash, Big Macintosh, Fluttershy, Twilight Sparkle
Length: 8758

Fluttershy's life is changing.

Fluttershy's life is changing, and she can't stop that change. But perhaps she can decide what it means.

Thanks to RazedRainbow for pre-reading, and to Monochromatic for the idea. Whether you wants it to be true or not, technically I wouldn't have had this form of the story without you!

Published 2016-06-27 01:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-06-27 01:30:01 UTC

'Ere half my days

The hardest part, strangely, was finding places for all the animals. Many of those that hung about the cottage made their true homes in the Everfree, and when she was no longer there to act as a beacon for them they would simply turn around and vanish into it again. But there were many that could not survive in such a way, and they needed a home to replace the one they would soon lose.

Some were easier than others. The chickens were the easiest. Applejack had happily accepted them. It was Angel that she'd been unsure about. But, she'd relented and the coop was already built.

Fluttershy hummed softly to herself and yawned as she walked the suddenly lonely halls of her little cottage.

Another thing that had been surprising was the sheer business of ending things. There was so much to do. Ponies to inform, addresses to change, things to clean. The cottage wasn’t hers, not really. The old mayor had given it to her shortly after she arrived, so she would have somewhere to sleep other than the inn’s common room, in exchange for doing work for the town. One thing led to another.

She shuffled into the kitchen and put on some tea. Tea was good. Rarity had said more than once that it was the proper fortification a Lady needed to face a host of troubles. Fluttershy took Rarity’s advice on most things. She’d seen a bit more of the world, or so it seemed. They’d actually seen much of it together, but Fluttershy was honest: she’d spent a little too much time hiding behind the thick curtain of her own mane to have it count the same.

But that wasn’t really important. She stood in front of the kettle stiffly, strangely, waiting. Couldn’t go sit down, because then she’d have to get back up. Couldn’t stand here too long, or her legs would hurt. But she didn’t want to move.

Moving was getting harder.

She leaned against the counter and sighed softly.

The kitchen. She’d miss the kitchen.

Twilight had offered--more pleaded than anything--to let her keep the cottage. It belonged to the town, but things had changed and Twilight was a princess now, with Ponyville and Everfree for her personal domains. There were rules about such things, but the mayor had agreed to not oppose Twilight’s annexation of the property for a small sum. Fluttershy could live there for free, even be appointed as Twilight’s official wildlife advisor or whatever title she would like. She could live forever in her little cottage by the treeline.

No, she’d said, smiling. She’d shook her head and told a sputtering, confused Twilight: no, somepony should live here when I am gone. It’s a nice house.

It really was a nice house.

Making tea took twice as long, as much from her own caution as any actual weakness on her part. She set tea for one at her little table and sat quietly as birds sang. The birds hadn’t left, and probably wouldn’t until long after she was gone, probably.

She liked birds. You didn’t have to see birds to appreciate them. You could simply listen.

This World Dark and Wide

The cat mewled as it leapt free of her embrace, and Fluttershy let it.

A great sigh welled forth as she put the soft-edged syringe away and capped the little bottle of medicine. It was important to give Rascal the whole prescription and she was absolutely committed to doing what it took to ensure that the animals in her care were taken care of, but sometimes that meant doing things that were just unpleasant.

But that was part of the job, as Dr. Polychrome had told her gently. She had to become enduring without becoming numb. Life was not always pleasant, and sometimes in order to preserve the things that were one had to wade into what was decidedly not. And, really, inoculating a squirming cat was hardly the worst thing she had done as the closest thing to Ponyville’s resident veterinarian.

It had started out much simpler. Odd jobs, at first. Delivering things for the mayor, pet sitting. Babysitting foals in town. And then the old veterinarian had retired and moved along.

She loved animals. This didn’t mean she’d known how to care for them when they were hurt or sick. The first year or so had been chaos, trying to pick up what she could from books and the doctors at Ponyville General, and looking back… she was glad that there hadn’t been anything too serious. Not until after she’d found Dr. Polychrome and taken classes.

Rascal was just a housecat from town. Carrot Top had been worried about him, but he really was doing much better. She was sure he’d be back after he’d sulked for a while. Such a good kitty, she thought to herself as she put the bag away and stretched out on her couch with a great sigh.

She heard Macintosh in the kitchen and smiled faintly. A quick grab in front of her brought a pillow to snuggle with and in her drowsy state it was wonderful.

The days felt longer now because she did less and less. Macintosh had made her dinner last night as well, and probably would again. Her friends visited often. But even with the company, most of her time was spent alone.

She’d insisted on it. After a week of constant hovering, Fluttershy had politely and quietly insisted that she wanted most to feel like life was normal. That if they would be of service to her, they would not put their lives on hold.

Reluctantly, they had stopped their constant hovering. Well, to an extent.

She heard somepony knock lazily on the door and she lifted her head. “Come in.”

The door had already opened before she’d finished speaking. “Yo, Shy. What’s Big Red makin’ us tonight?”

Fluttershy giggled. “Stew. Nothing fancy tonight. We both had long days. How was yours, Rainbow?”

“Meh.” Rainbow trod loudly through her house.

Fluttershy’s ears followed her. She was a quiet pony, and quiet ponies learned how to pick up on the subtle variations in sound--be quiet and listen long enough and soon you know one friend’s steps from another, one’s breathing from another’s. Rainbow’s had been the easiest to learn.

She sat up and smiled aimlessly. “Come sit and tell me about it.”

Rainbow plopped down beside her on the couch and sprawled. “Just a lot of work today. Weather Service is riding my ass again. They forget I’m working with volunteers and part-timers. I mean, I’ve only been full-time for like, what, a year?”

“You’ve done a wonderful job,” Fluttershy said, grasping for her. Her hoof rested on Rainbow’s shoulder and Dash rubbed her cheek against it with a sigh.

“Yeah. Thanks, Shy.” Rainbow Dash leaned over and nuzzled her cheek briefly. “Generally, we get a lot done because my team is motivated. Ponyville may be a groundpounder town, but it's our groundpounder town.”

She heard Macintosh snort with laughter from the kitchen and repressed the urge to smile. “If you say so.”

“Yeah, but even motivated teams have off days…”

She continued. Fluttershy listened with rapt attention to every minute detail, seeing them in her mind. Thunderlane and Blossomforth lagging behind an impetuous Rainbow Dash. Pegasi pushing clouds laden with rain across the fields. Riding the wind and feeling the touch of frost.

Macintosh called them for dinner. Fluttershy smiled and tried to stand, only for Rainbow Dash to rush to help her up.

Fluttershy shook her head even as she accepted the uncalled for aid. “It’s fine, really.”

“It’s not,” Rainbow said quietly, strangely. “Besides, I’m here, I might as well help.”

She didn’t answer. Instead she let Rainbow help her into the dining room.

Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?

The cart bounced lightly on the old dirt road.

It bore no apples today, nor great casks of finest brandy or bubbling ales and ciders. Its only cargo was a slightly frail pegasus, yellow like a child’s drawing of the sun, faded pink mane covering over her face and hiding her eyes and the little crate by her side.

As always, it was Macintosh who pulled the cart. He had been pulling it for years, and would pull it for years yet, until it broke beyond repair and was rebuilt. But few trips had been quite like this one.

Fluttershy hummed, mostly to fill the silence. It wasn’t that she disliked silence in of itself. Or, she hadn’t, but she was beginning to wonder if that would change. So many other things were.

Her impromptu song died away and she was quiet again. There was only the rolling wheels and her own thoughts.

A lot was changing, wasn’t it? Everything, in fact. A new home, a new routine. A new bed and a new table, a new set of sounds in the morning. Would the birds sing on the Acres? Surely they must. Would the crow of the rooster wake her before dawn, startling her to a dark awakening?

Half of the time, she was terrified. The other half, she was almost curious. What would it be like, when all of this was over? That was a loaded question. It would be awful, objectively awful, but it wasn’t as if she would be alone in her affliction. Perhaps the origins of her condition were a bit irregular, but…

Ponies lived fulfilling lives under all sorts of afflictions, didn’t they? She was sure they must. It was hard to imagine that she lived in a world where they could not. But still she feared what no longer being whole and sound of body would mean. Not only for herself but for others.

A plaintive mew emanated from the rate as the cart jumbled again.

Fluttershy reached out for the crate and found it, not looking away from Macintosh and his loud, confidant pace.

“There, there. It’s alright, Rascal,” she said. “You’ll see momma soon! She’s back from her trip.”

Rascal continued to mew. She didn’t blame him, honestly. She would be stressed too, were she his size. It was a bit scary to be helpless and unable to see where you were going, and unable to change it. She cooed softly at him.

Being able to talk to animals had been the beginning. It was a rare trait, often misunderstood. True communication was something of legend, but empathy and communication-by-suggestion were typical earth pony talents. The ponies in town hadn’t believed her, at first, but she’d shown them how the beasts of the air and field trusted her soft voice.

She supposed they would still trust her. She wasn’t losing her voice, after all. So her talent, her life's mission, was more or less intact. If she tried not to think about it, thinking so was easy.

They rode into town. All around her, the streets of Ponyville bustled, and then they did not. As they passed, ponies quieted. She felt them watching her, and she cowered, her hair shrouding her, tickling her nose. But then she shook her head. No, that was what old Fluttershy did. Old Fluttershy was afraid. New Fluttershy had to be brave. Or at least, she couldn’t cower. Cowering was out. So, with a deft motion, she brushed her mane out of her eyes and put on a little smile, as if she were merely enjoying the day.

Macintosh brought her by Carrot’s house in town first. She waited while he unhitched himself and came around the side to help her ease down. She fluttered her wings, hovering slightly until her hooves gently landed on the springy grass beside the dirt road.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, and leaned forward for him. They kissed softly, chastely, and then Fluttershy retrieved the cat crate while Macintosh knocked on the door.

“Coming! Give me a moment!”

Fluttershy waited before her door, the cat crate’s handle in her mouth’s grip. She could feel little tremors as the cat moved about in his cage, unhappy with his predicament.

The door opened with a creak.

“Oh! Fluttershy, and Rascal. Oh I hope he… wasn’t a bother,” her voice hitched as Fluttershy placed the crate by her hooves.

Fluttershy smiled at her. She knew why Carrot Top had paused. She knew very well why, but nothing would deter her from smiling and acting as if she did not for as long as possible. “Oh, he was just wonderful. Now, I finished most of his medication, but you’ll need to give him the last two days. Twice a day, half of the syringe. I’ve been giving it to him before lunch and dinner each day.”

“Y-yes. Yes, okay. I… I hope he wasn’t… I mean,” she tried to form some sort of response.

Macintosh would say something if she went on to long. Fluttershy didn’t want that. She kept smiling. “It’s alright, Carrot. He was an angel, really. It’s okay, I know it looks a little weird.”

Carrot Top was silent for a beat too long. “I… I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay.”

“Is there… Does it…”

“She’s fine,” Macintosh said.

Fluttershy reached out and touched him on the foreleg. “It’s fine,” she parroted. “It really is. Don’t worry about me. I would stay a bit longer, but I have to go see Twilight. Remember to give Rascal his medicine, alright?”

Macintosh came closer and helped her back towards the cart. As she steadied herself and lifted up with her wings, she heard Carrot Top behind her say a quick goodbye, which she returned warmly while making herself comfortable again. Macintosh bid her good day, and they continued on.

Neither of them said anything until they stopped again.

“Please don’t be upset with them,” she murmured as he held out a hoof for her to find and use as leverage. Her wings flapped, she touched to earth again. It was such a nice feeling, landing.

“I’m tryin’.”

“I know you are, love. They don’t mean anything by it. They’re upset too. We have an awful lot of friends, you know.”

“I know.”

The castle had been hard to navigate even before her illness. It had so many hallways, and she hadn’t learned how to get much of anywhere besides the throne room and the main hall. She guessed it would be even harder to learn the twisting corridors now, but she didn’t mind. Twilight could help her. Or Spike. Or maybe even Starlight. It would be an excuse to chat, and that was always good.

“I wonder how Twilight is doing?” she asked the air.

Macintosh didn’t answer. Sometimes he didn’t, and that was alright. Her Macintosh was a quiet pony, but his mind was always working, and she loved that about him. Some ponies liked to announce their presence or make an impression, and that was okay, but he never needed to. Mac simply was, and being was often enough.

They walked together, closely, and Fluttershy listened to the echoes of the their twinned steps. She had much preferred the library, but she would never say so to Twilight. Mostly because Twilight would agree with her, and there wasn’t much they could do, was there? Some things just changed.

Twilight was waiting for them in the throne room. She fussed and fussed over Fluttershy, which wasn’t so bad, and talked a lot. Honestly, she didn't really understand a word of it, but she nodded right along with Macintosh, automatically and in all the right places.

Finally, after a plethora of very, very gentle and careful hugs and lots of talk, Twilight seemed to settle into a deep weariness. She sighed.

“Well, I guess… come on with me, you two. We’ll lay you out on that guest bed again. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

Mac helped her there while Twilight led the way, asking questions. Her steps were uneven, as if she were struggling to hide her own failing consciousness.

“How have you been feeling? Any other symptoms?”

She shook her head. “No. Just the usual. I’ve been a little lethargic… but I think that’s from moving around less. Moving is a little difficult. I’m sorry. I know I should try more, probably, but…”

“No, no that’s fine. It’s probably some of the residue still working through your system as well. We’ll purge it all. I’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you, Twilight. I’m so very grateful. How have you been?”

There was a pause.

“Me? Well, that’s an odd question.”

“It’s a good one,” Fluttershy insisted.

“Maybe. I’ve not been sleeping well,” Twilight said. “Probably need to cut back on caffeine again. I blame the new alicorn body.”

Which was an absolute lie and Shy knew it but she didn’t say so because sometimes it was better not to state the obvious.

“You should get more sleep,” she said gently.

“I’ll be alright.”

“Of course. What about the others? I suppose I’ll see Rarity tomorrow at the spa, but I haven’t seen Pinkie yet this week.”

“Pinkie. Pinkie’s…” Twilight hummed. “I forgot what she was up to, but she packed her bags for the rock farm on Friday. I really should write her and see how that’s going. Oh! That’s it. Some cousin or other was having a baby.” She chuckled, and the sound was music in Fluttershy’s straining ears. Twilight had a lovely laugh. “Maybe I should offer an official royal blessing? It’s archaic, but they might appreciate it.”

“Oh, I wonder what the new foal’s name will be!”

“Probably something-pie,” Twilight grumbled. “Ponies are kind of uncreative, actually. That occurred to me the other day.”

“Oh, but what about Rarity?”

“Rarity’s an exception,” Twilight said. “Also, I really meant naming conventions. You know, in their own language, Zebra names… oh, here we are. Let me open the door. You, um, know the way to the bed.”

Fluttershy carefully, gently crossed the floor with minimal help. She put her hoof on Mac’s chest when he moved to aid her, shaking her head as she walked alone for the first time since she’d left the farm that day.

She bumped into the bed and managed to not fall over just long enough to make it look intentional when she fell onto the soft plush. Another sigh, this one a bit happier. Even Twilight’s guest beds were magnificent! It really was a palace.

“Could you lay on your side for me, Fluttershy?” Twilight asked, moving closer. “Look at me, as well.”

“Okay.”

She obeyed and waited.

Twilight’s magic touched her first in her hooves and tingled. She tried not to squirm as the feeling continued up her legs. She imagined she could feel Mac’s warmth from the bedside, though she couldn’t know for sure he was there. He was standing still, after all.

The magic touched her chest and stomach, ran over her withers and everywhere else, leaving her feeling a little embarrassed. Twilight never made her feel uncomfortable, though. It was always just routine when she made her visits.

“It’s certainly improved,” she heard Twilight murmur as she worked. The magic touched her face and her eyes, and she heard Twilight let out a shaky breath. “Except for that, of course.”

Her examination ended and Twilight was quiet.

“Well, um, doctor… what’s my prognosis?” Fluttershy asked.

She hoped Twilight smiled. “Well, the obvious elephant in the room is still both an elephant and in the room. They’re still deteriorating, Shy. But the rest of your body is doing much better.”

“Oh, that’s good, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes.” Twilight coughed. “Yes, it’s good.”

Fluttershy smiled. “Thank you, Twilight.”

“You shouldn’t thank me.”

“Whyever not? You’ve done so much good for--”

“For Celestia’s sake, please don’t,” Twilight said hoarsely.

Fluttershy shrank back. “Twilight, I told you that it wasn’t your fault…”

Twilight sniffed. “Whose else could it be?”

“No one’s.” Fluttershy tried to rise and find Twilight.

Her sight was so dark now. Everything was strange and half-formed, like shadows, and yet still she recognized Twilight hunched over beside the bed. She wrapped around her and held on like a mare clinging to a sinking ship. She cooed and shushed, saying nothing more as Twilight began to cry.

But Patience to prevent that murmur, soon replies

She was wearing a blindfold over her stricken eyes when Apple Bloom asked her what it had been like.

There really ought to be a better word than blindfold. It sounded… vulgar? No. Unhappy? Maybe. She wasn’t sure. Twilight would know how to describe the feeling she had. Twilight’s vocabulary was large and she’d read so many books. Most of Fluttershy’s reading had been for the job. Or the books underneath her mattress which she had absolutely made sure Mac did not see. Or anypony else for that matter. Well, except for Rarity.

“Miss Fluttershy?”

“You can call me Shy, if you’d like,” she said, as Apple Bloom led her across the house.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“I think you already did,” Fluttershy said, and giggled. “It’s alright.”

“Did it hurt? I mean, the thing with your… um, your eyes.”

Fluttershy bowed up slightly.

“Not at all,” she lied. "And Twilight deadened the nerves, so it's not uncomfortable now."

It hurt a lot.

The weeks after her first encounter with the cockatrice had been unpleasant for her and Twilight alike. The aftereffects of the beast’s magic were harsh. But they'd recovered.

When the newly minted princess had visited determined to find and study the creature in order to work out some sort of cure that didn’t involve finding the original cockatrice, Fluttershy had agreed happily. It was always wonderful when her talent with animals came in handy for her friends.

They had spent days in the Everfree, searching for a cockatrice, to no avail. Twilight had taken precautions, of course. There were magical wards that would buy them precious seconds to look away and retreat if caught in the open. At least, she'd thought they would.

It was sudden. One moment, she’d been talking to Twilight, and the next, Twilight was panicking.

Her eyes had gone wide, her jaw slack, her body rigid as a statue. And then she was, in fact, a statue. Fluttershy watched in muted, unbreakable horror as her friend struggled to move, to look away, and then she felt the creature on her back and she bucked it off and screamed, narrowly avoiding knocking Twilight over. She turned by instinct, looking for it, looking to run--

And then she’d seen it, bigger than the last, hissing at her. She felt the familiar cold numbness in her hooves begin.

She stared it down. She willed all of her talent into a single command.

“Stop.”

It did not stop. It hissed again.

She could not feel her legs.

“You stop this, right now. You stop. Stop!”

Every syllable was firmer than the last, and they fell on the monster like hammerblows. Every stop she muttered as her eyes bore into its gaze and her lips sputtered and her wings petrified and her body screamed--every single one seemed to do more to break the hold it had.

Until it snapped. It looked away, whining, and she commanded it firmly to release her and Twilight. It was all she could do. The only part of her not solid stone was her face.

It hurt. It hurt so badly she cried and as soon as her legs were flesh again and the creature was gone she rolled on the ground and sobbed like a newborn foal because everything hurt so much.

They wouldn’t notice anything else wrong for another two weeks.

Who best bear his mild yoke, they serve him best

She sat in the sun. She knew that she was in the sun for she felt it dance with light upon her back as she dozed.

The saddlebag was laid aside, and so was the cloth damp with sweat that had laid over her eyes. She was thankful to be rid of both.

It had been a long day. She’d insisted a week ago when they had finally moved her in that she would help as much as she could. Applejack had been reluctant, to put it mildly. But Fluttershy’s gentle tenacity had won out. She visited the chickens in the mornings, and brought eggs back. Simple, or it would have been.

She learned, little by little. Angel helped her when Mac was working, and he was impatient as always. But he had changed a bit, like everything else.

When it was time for work to stop, she carried water to Applejack and her brother and whatever helping hooves were working, once again guided by angel. When she walked, her wings would spread out from time to time and touch the trees lightly as she passed, and so in a way she still saw them.

The last of her sight had gone the day she moved. Mac had been there early, ready to wake her and make a nice breakfast. She’d heard his voice and opened her eyes to be greeted by an endless black.

Denial had been her first response, naturally. It was still night time, and she’d dreamed her love knocked upon her door. But then he knocked again, and called for her with that wonderful voice she loved. Then she tried to rise. The covers caught her, wrapped around her, and she had fallen to the floor, weeping more in panic then grief.

But that was then, and this was now. She’d brought water for the hired ponies and her wouldbe sister-in-law and collected the eggs and played with Winona and now it was time to doze.

Except that somepony was trying to get her attention.

“Miss Fluttershy?”

She murmured, then looked around and sighed. “Yes? Apple Bloom? That’s you, isn’t it?”

As Fluttershy stretched and yawned, the filly answered. “Yes’m. Were you nappin’? Aw, shoot, didn’t mean to be a bother.”

“Mm, not at all. Come sit.”

Apple Bloom did so, sitting on the new porch her siblings had built only a few weeks ago. Apples handled stress in strange ways, Applejack had told her once with a wistful smile. Some ponies dealt with stress by crying or eating or fretting. Apples dealt with it by working. Mac had built most of that porch himself. And repaired the house. And started work on the one he would share with her. And fixed a few carts in the market for free.

Apple Bloom was a good filly. She sat close, already having accepted Fluttershy into her little family, and leaned against her side.

“How was school?”

“School was okay.”

“You sound tired.”

“It’s hot,” Bloom replied plaintively.

Fluttershy hummed. “It is. It’s not so bad. Napping in the sun can be nice. Do you know why cats do that?”

“Why?”

“Well,” Fluttershy began slowly, lazily, “they lie in the sun to make up for the slight drop in body temperature when they sleep. And sometimes they’ll move to follow the sun. Isn’t that fascinating?”

“Seems kinda slovenly, as my sister would say.”

“That’s a good word.” Fluttershy chuckled. “Cats nap because they’re hunters, and they need to expend all of their energy at once. So, they store it up.”

She briefly considered leaning over to nuzzle Apple Bloom, but then thought better of it. She’d always wanted to be more open with her affection, like Pinkie, and it wasn’t as if Bloom would mind, would she? It was the eyes. The blindfold was somewhere else. She tried to turn head best she could away from the sound of Apple Bloom’s quiet breathing.

“So, I, um… I made ya somethin’. But I’m worried you might not like it.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Fluttershy said, smiling. “What is it?”

“Well, y’know how you’re always wearin’ that bandanna over your eyes?”

Fluttershy hummed a little affirmative.

“I just thought you might like somethin’ that weren’t so… boring, I guess. But I guess that’s kinda silly, now that I’m really thinkin’ ‘bout it and I--”

Fluttershy chuckled. She ducked her head so that Apple Bloom couldn’t see her useless gaze and nuzzled her cheek. “That’s very kind.”

Bloom stammered, but to Fluttershy at least she sounded proud. “Well, I just sorta painted on one a bit. Sweetie and Scoots gave me some ideas, but it’s got a grass an’ trees an’ butterflies, all nice like, and there’s a bright yellow sun almost the color you are…”

Fluttershy listened, but she hardly heard. She was too busy smiling.

Thousands at his bidding speed

Twilight was on her right and Mac was on her left. Rainbow stood before her.

“Okay… if you’re ready, we can start. Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“Okay. I’ve kinda only heard about this secondhand, so…” Rainbow sighed. “But we can make it work. I’ll make it work. Right, Twi, you’re gonna hold this thing up with your magic. It’s this thing, Shy. I’m holding up a… stick. Thing. It’s a stick thing, I don’t know. But Twi and Mac are gonna keep it level. Rarity, you ready?”

“I’m here, dear.”

“Be ready to trade in if Twilight gets tired. Or if something happens.”

“Of course.”

“So Rarity is gonna spot you, and I’m gonna guide everypony, and Applejack is gonna watch I guess--”

“Well, ain’t much else I can do. You can do it, Fluttershy. Right eager to see you airborne again.”

“--and Pinkie--”

“I’m over here!”

“Pinkie’s gonna make noise, I guess.”

“I’m cheering, duh!”

“Right.”

“So, I’m placing my hooves… on the ‘stick thing’.”

“It’s more of a bar than a stick,” Twilight cut in.

“Ugh, it doesn’t matter. Yeah,” Rainbow said. “You push on it and try to sorta hover-fly. It’s gonna feel wobbly, but you’ll manage. It’s like normal hovering but more… awkward, honestly.”

“You’re not helping, Rainbow,” Rarity said from behind her.

Fluttershy smiled. “It’s fine. Ready?”

They were ready. She stepped forward and felt for the bar. Deep breath. Twilight and Mac moved away to give her room to flap her wings, and she did once, twice to test them. Another deep breath.

She rose off the ground, her forelegs coming up to touch the bar before she leaned on it. Visions of flight camp danced in her head but she pressed on. Whether it was tactful or not, Rainbow had been right: it was awkward, trying to hover but in a way she was not familiar with.

“There you go, Shy-shy! Awesome! You’re flying again.”

“Y-yeah,” she breathed.

Minutes passed. Her wings were sore from lack of use, but she pressed forward. Even in Fluttershy, there sang the old blood of Hurricane, and the sky was as much her inheritance as any Rainbow Dash.

“So, what does this do again?” Mac asked.

“Pegasi hover,” Rainbow said. “You learn how to do it when you’re small, so it’s second nature. Problem is, Shy can’t see to navigate, right? Well, until she manages to do it by air and sound, which takes forever, she can get started learning to hover again in a safe way.”

“What was that, with the wind and the sound?” Applejack inquired from somewhere behind her. She wondered if they were following on hoof. She wished she could see them.

“Blind pegasi can learn to navigate by air and sound,” Rainbow said. “It’s complicated, I can’t even do it well yet. You know how they have that way you can read with the bumps and you feel it with the frog of your hoof? It’s kinda like that. Not precise, either, but it gets you from point A to point B.”

“Seems… suspect,” Rarity said.

“Eh, it’s magic, don’t really understand it. C’mon, Shy, you’re doing great. Okay, the point here is to keep yourself going slow. You gotta be more cautious now in the air. Can’t fly freely like you used to, because you’re gonna run face first into Applejack’s barn and she’ll get pissy ‘bout it.”

“Har de har har.”

Fluttershy giggled. “That sounds unpleasant, so I’ll try not to do that.”

“First step is to learn how to be slow. Then we can try to learn how to be free again, okay?”

“Okay.”

And post o'er land and ocean without rest

Pinkie ran. She didn’t need to see to know--Pinkie ran because she was Pinkie and she never changed, come Tartarus or high water. Or blindness.

And Fluttershy? Fluttershy flew.

It was not like the flying of her youth, nor was it the way she had flown when still she lived in her cottage by the forest. It was a little of both--cautious, unsure, and yet not overly worried. Simply testing. She couldn’t read the wind or tell where she was by sound up in the air just yet. And perhaps she never would.

But for now, she could fly, and she could hear Pinkie calling to her below.

Fluttershy banked to her right, just a bit, and then evened out again. She thought Pinkie was right beneath her, but it was hard to tell.

She flew a little every day now, whenever she could find someone to spot for her. Sometimes, it was Twilight, a little nervous and half-flying herself. Rarity, who helped her land with tingling magic and fussed over her mane as soon as she had hooves on the ground. Often, it was Pinkie. Pinkie liked to run.

Sometimes, Mac would watch and she would lazily, if awkwardly, land in the grass beside him and giggle as he knelt to nuzzle beneath her chin and kiss her neck.

She came down to land, and called out below to ask if the way was clear. Pinkie yelled that it was, and she put her legs out, ready for the shock of impact. Not that she landed heavily, because she never worked up enough speed for that.

Her hooves touched the springy grass and she trotted to waste the rest of her momentum before Pinkie hugged her from behind.

She yelped, almost taking to the air again. “Pinkie! Don’t do that!”

“Sorry!” Pinkie hugged tighter. “It’s habit and stuff. I’m just so happy to see you flying for real, Flutter-butters! I didn’t think you would.”

“I didn’t think so, either.”

Fluttershy nuzzled Pinkie and then slowly freed herself. “Thanks for spotting me. I know it’s a hassle, and I’m very grateful.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just doin’ what friends do! And ‘sides, like I was gonna miss out on helping my favorite yellow pegasus fly!”

Fluttershy chuckled. “I think I may be your only one.”

“Nope! There’s like three!”

“Oh.” Fluttershy would have blinked in another life. Twilight’s spells had shut her eyes permenantly before they froze over as well as kept her from feeling stone on flesh. “I was going to head back into town. Would you mind helping me?”

“Not at all! Want somethin’ from the Corner?”

“Always.”

They walked together, leaning against one another, and Pinkie talked and talked. There was always something to talk about in a town like Ponyville, always some small innocent scandal.or goings-on. It was a small town, yes, but a lively one. A vibrant one. She loved it dearly, all of its walks and thatched roofs and its happy ponies who called greetings as they passed. She answered them all in kind, and Pinkie kept a running commentary.

Her friends had all adapted as she had. Pinkie described everything. Rarity and Twilight would use their magic to make small tasks easy. Rainbow would go flying with her, slowing down and keeping in tight formation, calling out turns and keeping her flying in nice straight lines clear of trees or birds. Applejack made sure she was comfortable at home.

They arrived, and Pinkie led her into the bustle of Sugarcube Corner. There were others here, and so didn’t hear anypony approach until they were already talking to her.

It took her a moment to identify the voice, and she fumbled, blanking for a moment.

“Sorry, Mrs. Cake,” she said, grinning sheepishly. “Could you say that again?”

“Oh, dearie, I was just asking if I could get you anything.”

She felt a brief spike of shame. Noise echoed here, and it distracted her. How could she not recognize Mrs. Cake right away? “Oh, I’m alright. But, um, tea would be lovely. And perhaps a nice seat outside, so I can feel the breeze.”

“Sounds perfect to me. I’ll get that right out to you. Pinkie, could you help her find a table?”

“Yupperooni!”

Pinkie led her back out, but once she’d been brought to the table, Fluttershy found her own way to the little seat.

“I gotta go inside and go back to work. I’ll come check on you later, okay?”

Fluttershy looked towards the sound of her voice. “Of course. Thank you for coming, again. It was very kind of you.”

Pinkie touched her lightly on the foreleg. “I was happy to.”

As she left, Fluttershy was struck by how soft her voice had been. It was easy to forget Pinkie had ways of speaking that weren’t ebullient shouting, sometimes.

She waited and enjoyed the warmth of the sun and occasional light breeze. It was a wonderful day, whether she saw it or not. Even if the heat made her blindfold a little sweaty, and she looked down as she moved it and wiped her brow.

“I have your tea, dearie!”

Fluttershy didn’t jump, but she did freeze for a moment before sitting back up, cover in place. “Oh, thank you.”

“No problem. I brought you a scone. It’s blueberry, your favorite.”

She perked up, and smiled widely. “Oh? That sounds wonderful. I am a bit hungry after flying.”

“I bet you are. How have things been?”

“I’m surviving,” Fluttershy answered. She found the cup with both hooves and gently brought it up to her lips to blow on. “Everyone has been wonderful, and the house is almost done.”

“That boy still holding off on the wedding until he finishes that house?”

“Yes ma’am. He said it was traditional. Applejack told him he was being foolish, but I told Mac he should do it if it was important to him. It’s just a little cabin, but it’s very comfortable.”

“I bet it is. And I just know the wedding will be a sight. You’re managing alright? Pinkie keeping you safe when you fly?”

She nodded. “Yes. Pinkie’s been wonderful.”

“I just worry she’ll be a bit too much sometimes… but I know she means well. You know, if there’s anything you and Mac need, Mr. Cake and I are always happy to help.”

Fluttershy sipped from her tea and sighed happily. “I know. Thank you. I promise I’ll come to you if Mac and I need anything.”

When she was alone again, Fluttershy nibbled on the scone and listened to Ponyville for what felt like hours. She really had nowhere to be but here, after all, and she had world enough and time.

The sounds you hear in the street are myriad and sometimes unexpected. Some are natural and obvious--the muted tramp of hooves in the dust, the bright good mornings and the fast banter of the stallholders in Ponyville’s square. But then there would be new things to discover, if a pony were careful and took the time to notice. You could hear laughter, like the thin tinkling of far-off bells as someone came home from work and scooped up a foal. She heard the foal giggle as someone tickled them. She heard Scootaloo streak by, with a quick hello and her signature buzzing wings as she propelled herself along. Distant birds as they chattered above. And the whistling wind, always the wind. She was listening to that most of all these days, hoping for a day when it would mean more than a bit of reprieve from the heat.

And, all of a sudden, a feeling came over her as she nibbled on her scone and drank her tea in peace. It shattered her peace.

She wanted to see, and that was never going to happen.

It didn’t matter if she could read the wind well enough to glide from place to place, or if her magic made up for what that cockatrice had stolen from her. Because even if she could read the books they’d bought her or the winds that Rainbow tried to teach her, even if it were possible to navigate solely by sound and memory, none of it would be seeing. She wouldn’t ever see her cottage again, or Angel, or Macintosh, or her friends, and if she had a foal she would--

She set the cup down just in time to avoid dashing it to pieces.

It was never going to be the same. She could never do the work she had done--her gifts were useless now. They hadn't kept the cockatrice from robbing her of light. The place that she had made, that had been hers irrevocably and sacred, was gone forever because she’d failed.

The sheer desire, the need, the want, whatever you wanted to call it, in that moment Fluttershy felt it like claws tearing at her chest from the inside. She bent over, gasping softly as she began to shake.

And it just got worse and worse and worse. Because stone eyes couldn’t cry. She was unnatural. They looked at her with pity, yes, and she could bear their pity but not their revulsion. She had to cover her eyes not to disgust them. Even with Mac, she couldn’t bear him to see her beneath the cloth that bound her eyes, closed shut, covered with cracks in the stone that was her new skin. What must he think, so close to her, those times when his breath was hot where her shoulder and neck met and presented themselves for his attentions? Would he look at her and one day no longer be able to bear it?

She might have gone on like that for longer, were it not for a voice breaking into her spiralling thoughts.

“Yoohoo, Fluttershy! Darling, and here I thought I would be early.”

Panic. Rarity would notice something was wrong as soon as she came near. If anyone would, then she would, and then Fluttershy would have to explain everything and…

She almost reached for her eyes before realizing there would be no tears there to wipe away, and then let her foreleg fall awkwardly. Summoning up her best smile, she listened for Rarity’s steps.

“Oh, it’s alright. You’re still early. I’m just early too, if that’s alright. Pinkie and I were done flying.”

Rarity’s hoofsteps were much lighter than Rainbow’s, but surprisingly heavier than Twilight’s. She wondered why, or some part of her not worried about being caught mid-panic wondered why. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide from her friend, it was just… it was just that sometimes sharing things didn’t help at all. It just made everyone equally sad. There was nothing that could be done to change or fix any of it, and while talking could help for awhile, talking was like putting a weight on her friend’s backs. Every conversation, every reminder that Fluttershy was a burden to them made her more of a burden.

She wasn’t a burden. That was what Applejack had told her the first day, when she’d apologized for being one. She wasn’t a burden. It was just a matter of remembering that she wasn’t.

“Fluttershy?”

Fluttershy sat up straight. “Yes?”

“Ah, you seem to have lost track of me for a moment. I was just saying, that we had just enough time for tea before we walked over to the Spa. Would you mind? I might have a bit to snack on. I had to skip breakfast this morning and I’m a bit, ah, peckish.”

“Oh, why did you do that?” she chided.

“Customers, actually. Permit me but a moment to acquire some victuals and I’ll regale you with the tale, hm?” Rarity chuckled and then she was walking away again. She bumped a chair on the way to the door, as she navigated among the tables.

Rarity hadn’t noticed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Well, beyond mere relief.

By the time her friend returned and sat at the table, Fluttershy was fully in control. She was composed. Calm. She had never panicked in public at the prospect of… of herself. In fact, that never happened ever and she was going to not think about it. Because if she did, then Rarity really would notice.

And it seemed to work. Rarity told her about pulling an all nighter, only to be interrupted a little after the store was supposed to be opened by a confused customer hoping to get something mended. She laughed at the right points, and expressed concern with a soft little, “oh dear!” as she was wont to, and they passed the time in warm contentment.

It was time to leave, and Rarity helped her in the road. She had noticed that her friends all took a different approach to helping guide her. It matched their personalities, or at least she thought so. Rarity wasn’t quite as hesitant or worried as Twilight was. When she was with Rarity, they walked and talked as if nothing had ever changed, and Fluttershy was grateful.

“You know, dear, I was just thinking the other day… when we were with you, and Rainbow Dash was showing you how to fly using that bar?”

Fluttershy murmured an affirmative that was more sigh than word.

“Well,” Rarity continued, rising slightly from the bath. “Unicorns, when they lose their sight, tend to use canes. They’ll feel out a path in front of them, you see.”

“How do they know what it does?”

“Magic. You can touch with your magic, in a way. So what the cane touches…”

“The unicorn ‘sees’,” Fluttershy finished softly.

“Yes. It would be awfully hard to do without telekinesis. I just remembered it.” She sighed. “Now, I believe we’ve both relaxed enough.”

“Enough?”

“Yes, enough. You seemed distressed earlier.”

Fluttershy froze for a moment, and then wilted, sinking into the mud.

“Yes.”

“Well, out with it. Come now.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Balderdash. Honestly, Fluttershy, this is the entire purpose of having a spa--unburdening. You tell me, and it does us both good. Gossip, comfort, the news. It is all conversation of some sort, and it’s all rather good.”

“Er… I guess.” Fluttershy chewed on her lip a moment. “It was just… Please don’t be upset, okay?”

“I’ll promise to try my hardest.”

“I was just… upset. About how this isn’t going to change.” She touched the blindfold, still on even now when it was just the two of them. “How it’s never going to get better. I want to see again, Rarity… I’m not going to. Unless years from now Twilight works some miracle--”

“Which is certainly her modus operandi,” Rarity said, just loud enough to hear.

“I can’t rely on that,” Fluttershy said, and then shook her head quickly. “It’s not because I don’t have faith in Twilight! I do. I trust her.”

“You can’t hang your life on something that may be illusory, you mean.”

“I think so, yes.”

Rarity hummed. “What brought this on?”

“Nothing. Just… it just happened.” With every passing second, Fluttershy’s voice was softer and softer. “I don’t know why. I was doing so well, and it was such a good day, and then…”

“It’s not shameful to feel sorrow,” Rarity said. “Fluttershy, this has been a trying time. It is a tragic event, and you have borne it with dignity and optimism that I simply cannot fathom.”

“I just don’t want to be a burden.”

Rarity huffed, and her tone was heated. “Burden? Utter nonsense. If anything, you have bouyed our spirits. I daresay at times it seemed that you among us all had taken this the best.”

“I, um--” She felt Rarity’s hooves on her foreleg. “If you, uh, if you say so. Sorry.”

“I do say so. You’ve no need for apologies.”

Rarity stayed close to her the rest of their visit. It was nice to feel a near constant reminder that she wasn’t merely alone in some loud place.

They also serve who only stand and wait

When she’d lost her sight, Fluttershy had adapted. She’d begun to adapt even before the process was complete. It became easier and easier to trust her nose and her swivelling ears. She didn’t think she heard more now that the light was gone. Perhaps she did. Twilight would know, or the nurse who helped Twilight sometimes when Fluttershy visited. Rather, Fluttershy felt it was simply that her nose and her ears had always been telling her what they told her now, and that she had simply not paid attention until the world had forced her hoof.

Her nose was telling her many things. Mac was wearing cologne, which was silly of him, but endearing. There were candles… she actually wasn’t sure what the scent was. She would have to ask. Pine, fresh and wholesome.

Mac’s steps, heavy and so emphatically present, were on hard wood now. He helped her stand beside him, and she took a deep breath. “Is this?”

He hummed. “Eeyup.”

She wanted to see it. She wanted to see the house that he had built, and the wedding dress, and the cakes. She wanted to see the sun between the orchard’s trees at dusk. She had wanted to see Rarity lose all of her decorum in desperate pursuit of the bouquet. She’d wanted to see all of her friends at her side as she locked gazes with her… Husband, she thought, tasting the word. What a strange thing.

She wanted to see all of these things. It hurt. It hurt so much that she couldn’t see them.

She sniffed and leaned against him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I suppose. I’m livin’ here too, y’know.”

She giggled. “Oh, I know. I’m counting on it.”

“Counting on it? Well, I’ll be damned, and here I thought it was all a surprise.”

She pressed her face into his side and felt the fabric of his coat against her cheek and nose. “I can’t believe I missed you dressed up.”

“You seen me that way. Remember the Ponytones concerts?”

“Mmm, that’s different.” She nuzzled up towards his neck.

“Not so different.”

He led her into the house, describing it all. Every part of it, he’d made himself or had some hoof in. Friends had come in secret to help him build furniture and raise the roof. She wondered, then, how much of her own home had been built as she sunned on the porch.

“I wish I could see it,” she said at last, as they lay on the bed. He’d helped her out of the flowing dress. “The dress, the house.”

“They’re both wonderful.”

“I know.”

He kissed her neck.

She continued, softly. “I just wish I could see them.”

Mac didn’t answer, and she liked that about him. He knew that sometimes there was no answer that worked, or was right, or applied. So he didn’t say anything. He waited and he watched.

Stretching out in front of her in the dark--and she somehow knew it must be dark--she knew what would fill her days in the coming week. She would learn this house and its dimensions and peculiarities. The world had become strange and tactile, a thing to be felt and explored intimately, and she had become an adventurer simply to make her way.

It was a more difficult world and sometimes a frightening one. It was big, and full of noises that she couldn’t identify fast enough and voices that blurred and ponies who were probably staring at her blindfold.

It was a kind world. She had spent so long waiting for its kindness in the birds singing at morning and in the cool air of night. She had heard it singing each to each in spring through the calling birds and through the foals playing in Ponyville. And she heard it still in the voices of her friends, light denied.

“I wish you could see it too,” Mac said at last.

She turned over and fumbled for his mouth but found it at last. She kissed him.

“I’m happy,” she said when she pulled away to catch her breath.

“It’s all I hope.”

She paused, and smiled. “I am.”