Let It R.I.P.

by Aragon

Rating: everyone
Tags: Comedy, Slice of Life, Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 27521

One day, just like that, Twilight decides she's going to die.

One day, just like that, Twilight decides she's going to die.

Edited by Pearple Prose, MrNumbers, and Themaskedferret.

Published 2017-07-03 22:30:06 UTC
Last updated 2017-07-03 22:30:06 UTC

A Tisket a Tasket

“What is death to an immortal?
A sigh of relief.”

—Princess Celestia, Thoughts to Make Myself Sad, Vol. VIII

The seed of mayhem was planted exactly twelve hours and forty-three minutes before the funeral, and twelve hours and fifty-one minutes before the explosion.

The most important place in Twilight Sparkle’s Castle in Ponyville was the Map Room. Its name was, literally, “the Map Room,” because it had a Map, it was a Room, and Ponyville was a rural town that regarded originality in the same way it regarded higher education.

It was also the only place in the entire Castle that had something akin to a throne: Twilight Sparkle’s personal chair. One among equals, of course, but still—if the Princess sat on it, then by the legal definition it was a throne.[1]

[1] Princess Celestia herself had written this law, because in spite of her appearance, she greatly enjoyed toilet humor.

So that’s where Rarity sat that morning.

“Of course, I’m not saying I deserve the throne more than Twilight ever did,” Rarity was saying at the moment, filing her front hooves with a concentration one usually reserves for open-heart operations. “But, well. Now that she’s gone, why, I’m certainly the most fitted for the role, don’t you think?”

“Uh.” From the corner of the room came the sound of bureaucracy being paused. Spike popped his head from the mountain of letters and scrolls he’d been buried in, quill in his hand. “Of course!”

“Exactly.” Rarity gave him a sweet smile, then went back to her hooves. “Plus, I do think I am the one who deserves it the most, being the organizer and so on. I have to say, it’s horribly stressing to take care of every detail like this. I can’t help but admire how easy Twilight made it look.”

Spike squinted. “Right.”

It’s at this point in the tale that Spike’s Corner must be described.

The mere existence of Spike’s Corner was impossible, at least geometrically. The Map Room was perfectly circular. Nevertheless, there it was, all sharp angles and straight lines, a pulsating non-Euclidean mess of raw power.

And it was entirely made of paperwork.

Mountains, of scrolls, letters, clauses, maps, official petitions, and legal forms stood tall around Spike, sometimes going all the way up to the ceiling. The dragon himself, quill in hand, was running around in circles, grabbing whichever document grabbed his attention, trying to make a sense of what was going around him. He wasn’t as much “busy” as he was “facing the bureaucratic equivalent of the seventh circle of hell.”

And the content of those legal forms were even worse. Most of them referenced each other, half of them contradicted the other half, and at least twenty percent were written in a completely made-up language that consisted entirely of words with over seven syllables. And they just kept coming, no matter what.

This is why Spike’s Corner had gone from a mere pile of letters to unholy mess of a paper golem: Hellspeak may be scary, but no language will ever be as eldritch as legalese.

Spike had been trapped in his Corner, battling paperwork like a rock fights a river, for the last four hours.

Rarity, on the other hand, had arrived thirty minutes ago, looked at the list Twilight had left for her, and then she’d started filing her hooves.

“And make sure to invite every noble worth their title, dear,” Rarity added once Spike went back to work. “Don’t just send letters to the princesses. This is a special occasion.”

“Every…?” A tinkle of panic made it to Spike’s voice, and he looked at Rarity with a restrained face. “But… But that’s over a hundred ponies! And if I have to follow the proper etiquette, that’s at least three letters each!

“Oh, dear.” To add emphasis to her words, Rarity changed hooves, and started filing the left one. Oh, yes. Looking good. “I know you’re busy. We all are! But if we work together, and if we work as a team, I am sure there’s nothing we can’t do. Each of us has to play their part, is all!”

“…Right. But, Rarity, I don’t think I can do this on my—”

“Shush!” Rarity sat straight on the throne and looked at the door. “Somepony just knocked, didn’t they? The door is open, dear!” She took off her reading glasses [2] and smiled. “You may pass!”

[2] Sewing glasses, actually. Rarity had perfect vision and could read and sew just fine without them, but she absolutely killed the bespectacled look. And taking the glasses off to clean them with a handkerchief was the perfect gesture when one wanted to look smart.

Defeated, Spike went back to his corner, to sulk and suffocate in the paperwork.

The door opened, and Rarity blinked in surprise. “Why, Fluttershy, dear,” she said with a sing-song voice. “What are you doing here? And you, Pinkie Pie?”

“Hi, Rarity!” Pinkie said, bouncing all the way to her throne and waving her hoof in the air. “I’m done with cooking! Hi, Spike. Are you managing with that paperwork?”

“I don’t even know what most of these say!”

“Great! I knew you could do it!”

“Half of these papers aren’t even addressed to us! I’m pretty sure this is supposed to be for Mayor Mare’s office!

Rarity relaxed her back a little. “Pinkie Pie? You said you’re done?”

“I think I just outlawed something nationwide and I don’t know what!”

“Yeah! Wrapped it all up ten minutes ago. So, can I do something else? I’m bored!”

Rarity frowned. She put her glasses on, only to take them off and clean them with a handkerchief. [3] “Pinkie Pie,” she said. “We are hosting a public funeral, and seeing how this is our dear Twilight who died, this will be a huge event. Are you sure you are done with the preparations?”

[3] Totally worth the four hundred bits they’d cost.

And Pinkie just kept on grinning with absolute confidence. “Yeah!” she said.

“You’ve prepared enough food to feed over a thousand ponies.”

“I’m good at cooking!”

“In…” Rarity looked at the clock on the wall. “Less than two hours.”

“I’m really good at cooking!”

Rarity sighed. For some things, one simply learns to stop trying lest they do something they regret, and arguing with Pinkie Pie—or questioning Pinkie Pie, for all that encompassed—was one of them. If the Pink Thunderclap showed up at your house, handed you a baseball bat, and pointed out that there was a meteor rushing to town, you didn’t ask questions. You just put on a helmet and got to stretching.

So Rarity just shrugged, as one does, and accepted Pinkie’s words as a fact of life. “Well, I’m sure I can find something else for you to do, Pinkie Pie,” she mused as she looked back at Twilight’s list. She couldn’t help but ask one last question, however. “Out of curiosity,” she said. “Did you have enough ingredients or…?”

“Not really!”

“But you still managed.”

“Yep!”

Silence. Rarity looked at the list, then at Pinkie Pie. Pinkie was still grinning.

Rarity sighed. “Let me guess. You managed because you’re good at cooking.”

And Pinkie gave her a wink. “You’re learning!”

“I’m trying.” Rarity tapped the list. “Well, Pinkie, dear, I have some good news you’ll love to hear. Twilight left another task that I believe would be perfect for you.” She gave Pinkie a warm smile. “How would you feel about taking care of the decorations, darling?”

Pinkie Pie blinked at this. Her grin didn’t move in the slightest, but it still managed to somehow express confusion, now, instead of unadulterated glee. “The decorations?”

“Why, yes. For the funeral.” Rarity made a gesture with her hoof. “This is Twilight Sparkle herself who has died, we can’t just let the funeral come and go without leaving a bit of an impact, don’t you think?”

“Oooooh.” Pinkie nodded. “Oooh.”

“Indeed. ‘Oooh’.” Rarity took her glasses off once more. “That is the reaction we want everypony to have. I’m thinking something sober, something proper—nothing outlandish, but still memorable. Do you follow? This has to be everything but boring, Pinkie Pie. We want ponies to remember the day.”

And Pinkie saluted Rarity, with all the seriousness of a bright pink mare who’s also grinning. “Gotcha. Balloons.”

“…Well, actually, Pinkie Pie, this is a funeral. Balloons might be a little too cheery for—”

“Gotcha. Sad balloons.”

“Um.” At some point during Rarity’s conversation with Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy had sneaked her way into the room and ended up at the other side of the throne. “Rarity, I don’t want to interrupt, but I have a little problem, and…”

“Ah, Fluttershy!” Rarity flinched when the pegasus seemingly appeared out of thin air. [4] “Yes, yes, of course! I’m here to help in whatever you need.” She cleared her throat with a cough, and tried her best to regain composure. “What is the matter?”

[4] Fluttershy was naturally quiet, and her shyness had made her extremely adept at hiding her own presence. The only reason why she wasn’t the perfect assassin was because she always apologized before stabbing anyone.

“Well, um.” Fluttershy looked down, and hid behind her own mane. “I asked the birds to sing at the funeral, just as you said, but they only like to sing happy songs.” She fiddled with her hooves. “And I don’t think The Happy Sunshine Polka is appropriate for the funeral.”

Rarity made a face. “Hmm,” she said. “The title does not sound promising, I must admit, but maybe it will fit, if we try? What is the song about, anyway?”

“It’s about how happy the birds are because none of them are dead,” Fluttershy said.

“…Oh.” Rarity frowned. “Well, that’s… That’s no good. Is that the only song they can sing?”

Fluttershy shook her head. “They also know Ode to Joy. It’s about how the birds love being alive, and how horrible it is to be dying.”

“Somehow I feel like I’m starting to notice a pattern here, Fluttershy.” Rarity frowned. “Can’t they sing about something, I don’t know, miserable?”

“Well, they can only sing about happy things. Winter Wrap Up is tomorrow, and that always cheers them up, because they can stop dying.” Pause. “You know, because of the cold.”

“Oh.” Rarity frowned. “Wait, they didn’t fly south?”

“Not these. They wanted to practice their singing.” Fluttershy looked down, face grim. “There were a lot of casualties.”

“Dear me.”

“But tomorrow we wrap up winter. So they’re really happy!” Fluttershy said, looking back again, daring the tiniest of smiles. “Only, well, now they can only sing happy songs.”

“I can’t help but admire the degree to which their sacrifice achieved absolutely nothing, then,” Rarity muttered.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, dear, there’s no need to…”

“What if I bring a scarecrow?” Pinkie chimed, poking her head from behind Rarity’s throne—and startling Fluttershy ever-so-slightly. “Maybe that’ll spook them! Then they’ll sing different songs, right?”

Fluttershy looked at her. “Oh. That could work.”

“Pinkie Pie.” Rarity looked at the pink pony, stern face on. “We want them to be sad, not to be scared.”

“But I get sad when I’m scared,” Fluttershy said.

“Yeah! I also get sad when Fluttershy is scared! This is a great idea!”

“Yes. Yes, we all get sad when Fluttershy feels startled.” Rarity took a deep breath,“She’s a wonderful pony, and we all love her. You are still missing the point of this conversation.”

Fluttershy blinked, and for the first time since she’d entered the Map Room she stopped hiding behind her mane. “You think I’m wonderful?” she asked, looking at Rarity, blushing a little. “Wow. Thank you, Rarity.”

“Aaaaaw.” Pinkie pressed her chest with both hooves and looked at Fluttershy like a kid looks at a puppy. “Now she’s not sad anymore! Gasp! And neither am I!” She smiled. “Rarity, you’re really bad at funerals!”

“...Right. Sure. Pinkie Pie, honestly, I have to say…” Here Rarity looked at Fluttershy, seeing her face for the first time—and she shut up. Then she frowned, and she looked back at Pinkie. “Pinkie Pie?” she asked. “Mind doing me a favor?”

“Is it about sadness? Or Fluttershy? Or the decorations?”

“Yes, no, and yes.” Rarity flashed her horn, and Twilight’s list rolled itself back into a scroll, which she promptly put aside. “I just remembered we haven’t sorted out the wreaths yet, and that simply cannot be. I am far too busy to go out at the moment, so would you mind fetching Roseluck and company and bringing them here? I’d love to select the flowers myself.”

“Sure!” Pinkie nodded enthusiastically. “Is that all?”

“It is, yes.” A pause, and Rarity frowned. “Also… would you mind coming here with them? As much as I pride myself in my bargaining abilities, I’ll have to admit Roseluck always gets the best of me. I don’t know how she does it, but she does.”

“It’s the twinkle in her eye!” Pinkie said. “And the accent. And the way she looks like she could murder you!”

“Probably, yes. So I’d rather get it done as soon as possible, as you can surely understand?”

Pinkie just nodded a second time. “Sure! Again! I’m extra sure. Be right back, girls!”

And she left.

The moment Pinkie Pie went out the room, Rarity took off her glasses and looked at Fluttershy. “Well then, my dear,” she said, voice soft and gentle. “What is it?”

Fluttershy’s ears perked up as she looked at her. “Huh?”

“You look dreadfully anxious, darling. Like you wanted to ask me something.” Rarity smiled, and hopped off the throne. “It’s written all over your face. I figured, perhaps you didn’t want to talk in front of Pinkie Pie?”

“Oh.” Fluttershy blushed once more, this time a darker shade of pink, and then she looked to the side. “I, uh. I don’t want to be a bother. I know you’re busy, and…”

“I am busy, yes. Horribly so.” Rarity made a vague gesture towards her hooficure, which wasn’t completely perfect yet. In the distance, Spike let out an eldritch shriek. “Why, I’ve been forced to close Carousel Boutique this morning, doubtlessly ruining the day of many possible customers. But,” and her tone here was severe, “I’m never too busy for a friend. And you know that.”

Fluttershy gulped. “I’m sorry. I, it’s not like I don’t… I mean, you could have let Pinkie Pie stay, too. It’s just… It’s a little embarrassing how…”

She didn’t say anything else, but Rarity didn’t need to hear the rest of the question. “You don’t quite get all this, do you?” she asked.

Fluttershy shook her head. “No.”

And Rarity smiled harder. “Oh, dear, there’s no need to be so bashful. Really! I assumed you wouldn’t understand this entire business. Quite frankly, I’m surprised that you followed along like that, without ever asking any questions. I admire your loyalty to Twilight, yes I do.”

“It’s just…” Fluttershy took a deep breath, and looked back at Rarity. “Isn’t this… a little weird? Twilight comes to us one day and says she needs to die, and now she’s up there in her room acting as if she was dead, and—”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Rarity tapped Fluttershy’s forehead. “No, no, no, darling. Remember: she is dead. She’s not acting. You must think that she’s dead.”

“…Right.” Fluttershy frowned. “But… But she’s still alive. She’s breathing, and, and her heart is beating, so why are we doing this?” She looked down, and her frown became somewhat of a worried expression. “I don’t understand it. Is that bad?”

“Oh, not at all, dear. Not at all.” Rarity shook her head and let out a small chuckle. “In fact, I can assure you that Rainbow Dash is asking Applejack this very same question, as we speak.”

“Really?”

“I’m positive, yes.” Rarity then reached with a hoof and patted Fluttershy, softly, the same way one pets a cat. She didn’t necessarily need to do this to continue the conversation—it’s just that Fluttershy was eminently pettable. “You’re both equally inexperienced in the matters of death, aren’t you?”

“Um. I guess.” Fluttershy let herself be petted. She knew her place in life. “I mean, animals die all the time, but ponies are… not the same. Aren’t you the same?”

Rarity smiled. “Me? Oh, dear, I suppose it’s just that I’m an artist. All artists know about death. It’s what inspires art, is it not? The thrill to make something that will outlast you.” She looked into the horizon [5] dramatically, and even though there was no wind, her mane flapped behind her. “The act of doing something that defies death, that stands the test of time, that screams to the heavens: Rarity Once Lived!”

[5] Well, they were indoors, so she looked into the wall. But she was really dramatic about it.

Fluttershy looked at Rarity. Rather non-dramatically, to boot. “Rarity. You make dresses.”

“I make art!”

“But you don’t think about death whenever you’re sewing, right?”

And Rarity made a face. Her mane went back to normal, and then she jumped back to her—Twilight’s—throne. “Well,” she said. “My needles are rather pointy, I suppose. One always, ah, wonders. Does she not?”

“…That’s a little creepy.”

“What I’m getting at, my dear,” Rarity said, waving a hoof, “is that I was bound to understand Twilight’s… predicament, let’s call it? But it is no surprise that you don’t. It is quite simple, really.”

“It is?”

“Hmm.” Rarity nodded, lost in thought. “Twilight Sparkle needs to die, Fluttershy. She’s doing this for her own sake. I think she’s been toying with this idea ever since she became an alicorn, and seeing how tomorrow Celestia is coming to Ponyville for Winter Wrap Up… Well, maybe she just wanted to start anew. Get this over with.”

“Oh.”

“As I said, it’s normal that you don’t understand it. Dash won’t, either. She’ll even admit it—I must confess, that mare is growing more and more self-aware by the day. It’s a little unnerving.” Rarity shivered. “But I digress! It is an important matter, Fluttershy.”

“Hmm.”

“Important enough, in fact…” And Rarity gave her a little smile here, one that could have been described as roguish if the need ever arose. “That I think you should understand it on your own, dear.”

Fluttershy frowned, and looked down. “I am not sure if I can.”

“Oh, just trust me on this. Death is a delicate matter, but it creeps up on you.” Rarity shrugged. “If I explained why Twilight needs to die, then part of that reason would be lost, you see? So just… go along for the ride. Help us with the funeral. And you’ll eventually get it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Oh, I’m positive! There’s nothing simpler in life than death, dear. You just need to wait for the end. Just ask Applejack about it.”

When it comes to the matter of death, experience is invaluable – and nopony was as experienced as Applejack. Running a farm alone was already an exercise in the cycle of life, but on top of that, she had buried so many members of her family [6] that Granny Smith was starting to feel threatened.

[6] Most of them after dying, but the Apple Family was so numerous there was bound to be at least one statistical deviation. AJ was getting better at checking twice before burying them lately, though.

She was, in short, a scholar in the mortuary arts; if you were dead, you wanted Applejack by your side. Nothing could faze her. Nothing could surprise her. Nothing could stop her.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the gentlecolt at the counter said. “As I said, dying is illegal today. There was a pulsating legal form that arrived earlier this morning and outlawed death.”

Enter bureaucracy.

Ponyville was a small town, with a small Town Hall – but a Town Hall nonetheless. Even the humblest of businesses needed to be made official, and Applejack walked into the old building expecting a pleasant chat with Mayor Mare, and maybe some condolences. It was exactly ten hours and thirty minutes to the funeral.

Applejack did not find Mayor Mare in the Town Hall. Instead, she found herself in front of a closed door and a stallion she’d never seen before. He sort of looked like the planks Applejack had used to build her barn: wooden, straight, and probably cathartic to hit with a hammer.

“…Beg your pardon?” she asked, resting her elbow on the counter between her and the plankwood stallion.

“Dying is currently considered illegal,” the plankwood pony repeated, “according to recent changes in Ponyville’s public pre-posthumous policy.”

Pause. “Pre-what?”

“Pre-posthumous.”

Applejack nodded, understanding dawning on her. “Mister.”

“Yes?”

“That is the dumbest thing Ah’ve heard in a long time.”

Pause.

“And Ah’m friends with Rainbow Dash.”

Plankwood [7] tried to keep it cool, but it was clear just by his face that the comment had hurt him. “The law,” he said, irritation evident in his voice, “clearly states that any or all activities starting with, caused by, or fueled by one’s or a loved one’s death is completely and absolutely forbidden, and there are no exceptions allowed.”

[7] There was actually a small plaque on the pony’s desk that stated his name was Red Tape, but Applejack liked to be honest with herself in this kind of situation.

“Also,” AJ continued, as if Plankwood had never spoken, “Ah ain’t no expert on grammar, but Ah’m pretty sure pre-posthumous ain’t a word. Doesn’t sound right.”

“It predates the posthumous date, ma’am,” Plankwood said. “Hence…”

“Nah, nah. That ain’t how words work.” Applejack talked with utmost confidence. “What you mean is, uh. Is…”

There was a small pause, here.

It is a common thread among civilized societies that scientists laugh at writers, writers scoff at scientists, and they both think farmers are idiots. This, however, has no basis—farmers aren’t stupid. They’re just simple.

And simplicity, like anything that makes your life easier, is severely underrated. A simple pony won’t have an existential crisis; a simple pony won’t be haunted by crippling self-doubt. A simple pony sees a problem, looks for the most logical solution, applies it, and goes on with their business.

Applejack was a simple pony. And she was the best at most logical solutions.

“…Humous,” she eventually said, and she punctuated the word with a smile that could have outshined the sun. “Yeah! That’s the term. My friend’s humous.” Then, another pause—smaller, this time. “Wait, no. That doesn’t sound right.”

Plankwood, at this point, wasn’t as much staring as he was actively trying to strangle Applejack with the power of sight alone. “Ma’am.”

“Humous. Humoused. Humid?” Applejack smashed her hoof on the table, and Plankwood flinched away. “Humid! That sounds like a word. So, my friend’s humid!”

Plankwood took a really deep breath. “Your friend is humid,” he repeated.

“Yeah!”

“So she’s wet.”

“Yeah!” Not a moment of hesitation. Applejack tipped her hat up, in an exquisite show of southern charm. “‘Cause she’s dead!”

“…Well, ma’am. I’m glad your friend is, er.” Plankwood cleared his throat with a cough. “That she’s confident enough in her, uh, preferences that she can share them with the world like this, but quite frankly, I don’t know what to do with this information.”

“You can give me a grave,” Applejack said. “Ah need the cemetery for this evenin’. We’re havin’ a funeral.”

“No,” Plankwood said, with the kind of voice usually reserved for barking. “Due to recent and, I’ll admit, somewhat drastic changes in our policy, Mayor Mare has outlawed death and the act of dying. There is no mistake.”

“What?” Applejack frowned. “Mayor Mare can do that?”

“Yes. Apparently. I had my doubts too, ma’am, but the paperwork checks out. Somepony exercised absolute authority less than two hours ago, and the effects are immediate.” Plankwood crossed his legs. “I’m assuming it was Mayor Mare, because whoever signed the paperwork writes like someone trapped in a cathedral of dark ancient magic.”

“…And that describes Mayor Mare?”

“That describes most politicians, to be honest. And, as you can see,” and here Plankwood pointed at the door to Mayor Mare’s office—locked, of course, “Mayor Mare is now gone. This change was made from outside Town Hall. I’ve no idea where she’s disappeared to, but she’s the only one that can help you, so—”

“Hey, Applejack!”

Government workers don’t feel such terrestrial things as “hope” [8], but still, in that moment, Plankwood dared to dream. The voice that came from the main door was female and somewhat bossy—and if she was Mayor Mare, if his superior had finally crawled back from the hole she’d fell into, then he’d be free of this misery named Applejack.

[8] Some people wonder how is it possible for politicians to disappoint their voters like that and never feel guilty. The truth is, when you’re dead inside everything else becomes a walk in the park.

But as it always happens, daring dreams draw disappointment. The mare walking down the main hall towards Plankwood’s desk was not Mayor Mare. She was…

“Rainbow Dash.” Applejack looked at her with surprise. “Why’re you here?”

“The entire Weather Patrol is on guard making sure everything is ready for Celestia tomorrow, so I’ve nothing to do, weather’s great,” Dash replied, frowning slightly. She poked Applejack lightly on the side when she arrived to the desk. “So why are you still in here? You told me it would take you a couple minutes, tops!”

“Not my fault.” Applejack nodded towards Plankwood. “Apparently dyin’s illegal now.”

Dash arched an eyebrow. “What?”

Plankwood put on his best neutral face. It wasn’t really neutral. He was showing all of his teeth, despite the lack of a smile. “There’s a reason for this, ma’am. I’m afraid it’s just—”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Rainbow Dash said. “And I’m friends with myself.”

AJ blinked. “Hey, you’re growin’ self-aware.”

“Yeah, Rarity hates it. It’s hilarious.” Dash grinned. “So what are we doing?”

“Ah think Ah’ve got an idea.” Applejack rested her elbow on Plankwood’s desk, and looked at him. “You talked ‘bout authority, right?”

Plankwood squinted. “I’m sorry?”

“You said Mayor Mare can outlaw death—”

“Dumb,” Dash added. “Also, since when does Ponyville have laws? Aren’t we, like, a town? Town have laws now?”

“—‘Cause she’s got authority,” AJ finished. “That’s all you need to change the law, right?”

“Uh. Well.” Plankwood nodded, slowly. “Yes. That’s how… that’s how civilization works, yes.”

“Great! Then Princess Twilight can do that, right? She’s got authority.”

This one hurt Plankwood, because now the farmer was making sense, and the moment the government starts seeing eye to eye with the ponies who work the land is the moment something very fundamental in the universe stopped working.

Still, he was a professional. “Yes,” he said. “Princess Twilight is indeed, an authority. If she rules so, I suppose we can allow somepony to die after all.”

“Then everythin’s solved!” Applejack said, and she smiled so hard she actually closed her eyes. “’Cause Princess Twilight’s the one who’s dead. So obviously—”

“Wait.” Plankwood raised a hoof. “She can’t, then.”

Applejack blinked. Dash stared. “What?” they both asked.

“The Princess must be alive to change the law. Dead ponies tell no tales. So she can’t die.”

Applejack frowned. “But she’s dead!”

“No, she’s alive. Legally.”

Dash cocked her head to the side. “But if she’s alive she can rule that she’s dead, right?”

“Yes.”

“But she can’t!” Applejack said. “‘Cause she’s dead!”

“Then she can’t.”

“But if she can’t,” Dash said, “then she’s alive. Also, Applejack.” Dash poked her shoulder. “I mean. You know Twilight’s not really dead, right? So…”

“No.” And here, Applejack talked with finality. She looked at Dash, and her eyes were as serious as they’d ever been. “This is important, Dash. She is dead. You gotta remember that.”

Rainbow gulped, then nodded.

Plankwood was pressing both hooves against his face, by this point. “Okay,” he said. “Then, is Princess Twilight dead, or alive?”

Dash looked at Applejack. Applejack looked at Dash. They nodded. “She’s dead,” they both said at the same time.

“Then she can’t change the law,” Plankwood said. “She doesn’t have the authority. So she’s alive.”

“But then she can change the law!” Dash said, frowning harder now. “I mean—”

“No. If she wants to be dead, she needs to be alive. Otherwise she’ll just be alive, because she’s dead.”

Pause.

“Because,” Plankwood explained, “she’s dead. So she can’t change the—”

“Okay.” Dash looked at Applejack. “Why are we arguing with this guy again, AJ?”

“Mayor Mare’s out.”

“No, like—why are we arguing with this guy?”

“Oh.” Applejack shrugged. “We gotta use the cemetery. Need permission to organize the funeral and whatnot. Twi needs a grave.”

Dash nodded. “Gotcha. Give me a couple hours.”

And then she flew away.

Applejack and Plankwood followed her with their eyes, all the way till she was out of sight. Then, they turned around and looked at each other.

And Plankwood talked with absolute honesty. “Please,” he said. “Please go away, too. Please make my day and get out of my life forever, ma’am.”

“No can do. Twi’s dead.” Applejack sighed, took her hat off, and pressed it against her chest. “Why’d you outlaw death anyway? Sounds like a mighty dumb thing to do. Say, can we start over again? Ah think Ah have an idea. You said dyin’s illegal, right? But what if Ah told you she’s already dead?”

Plankwood tasted copper on his tongue.

It’s a little over seven hours to the funeral now, seven hours and eight minutes to the explosion, and Spike’s Corner has done nothing but grow in size, grow in power, grow in paperwork.

Legends from another world talk of a Tower so tall it angered the gods, and caused thunder to come down and split the heavens. These are the Tales of Babel, so immeasurable its size defied understanding and brought chaos to the land. There is only so much a mortal mind can take.

Those stories were reduced to a joke after Spike’s Corner came to be.

Because it truly was a wonder in the worst sense of the word. It was a jungle in epistolary form, a thunderstorm made bureaucracy. The scrolls, the letters and documents, they moved up and down, in and out, like a million heartbeats at once. The words shone with red light, the ink smelled like the blood of kings.

Dragons are ancient beasts—they live so long, they barely count as mortals—and that’s the only reason why the mere existence of Spike’s Corner wasn’t enough to drive Spike completely crazy. He stood in the middle of it all, quill in hand, not so much moving as twitching in specific directions. The air tasted purple.

Fluttershy hovered around the mess, averting her eyes from the most unholy points in the heretic hellscape that was all that paperwork. Ghostly voices muttered legal formalities as she walked by. She was reminded of the sins of past lives, of past universes.

And then she noticed Spike. “Uh,” she said. “Spike? Are you…”

Pause, here. The word “busy” had been dancing around her mouth, but that would have been like asking the sea if it feels wet today.

So she reworded the question. “Spike? Are you okay?”

“Yes!” Spike didn’t reply as much as he jumped at the word, jerking his hand so hard he tore one of the letters in half. He noticed, threw it away, picked a blank scroll, and started scribbling in it. “What? Yes? Anything happ—oh.” A quick look at her, and then Spike went back to the letters. “Oh, it’s just you, Fluttershy.”

“Hi.”

“Hi! Sorry. It’s been a crazy afternoon!” Fluttershy noticed Spike wasn’t as much moving as he was twitching in specific directions. One letter finished—poof of green fire, sent away—and he picked up one more. “Did you hear Twilight died?”

“Yeah.” Fluttershy looked around. There was a small pile of scrolls right next to her that almost looked like a bunny, although the ears were wrong. She poked it. “I’ve been helping with the funeral. But then I ran into trouble and I came to see Rarity again, but she’s arguing with Roseluck outside and I didn’t want to interrupt them.”

“Right!”

“And Roseluck is scary when they’re negotiating. She looks like she could murder you. It’s that twinkle in her eye—”

“Cool! I’m writing letters!” One of the piles of scrolls by their right tumbled down. Spike looked at it with desperation, then his eye twitched, and went back to his work. “It’s crazy! Princess Celestia won’t stop sending letters, and then there are the invitations; half of Ponyville is writing back because Rarity added an RSVP and they want explanations!”

“That sounds like a lot of work.”

“It is! And I keep hearing voices in my head. They talk about democracy and referendums. About a State in which the three major powers are separated.” For a split second, Spike looked at Fluttershy dead in the eye, and the grin that made it to his face was that of a corpse. “They talk about the power of the law.”

Pause.

Fluttershy squinted. “…Congratulations?”

“Thanks! Twilight is dead, Rarity is busy, and I’m the only one who can send letters! So there’s no other way!” And back to the letters he went.

Fluttershy’s ears perked up. By her right there was a scroll, still sealed, that looked perfect for that pile that looked like a bunny. She picked it up and put it in place, then looked at Spike. “Um. I see.”

“I think I’m going crazy!”

“Oh.” Now the Bunny Pile had one ear, but Fluttershy couldn’t find a good candidate for the second one. So she just looked at Spike and gathered some courage. “…Spike?”

“Yes?”

“Do you… understand this?”

“Understand what? Why the nobleponies keep asking me to describe the coffin so their clothes match with the theme of the funeral?” Spike signed three letters in a row, then sent them away with some fire. “Because I really don’t. Also, what is the theme of the funeral?”

“Uh, sad balloons. And I meant more like…” Fluttershy took flight and hovered above Spike, rubbing her forelegs and hiding behind her mane. “Like, the funeral. And Twilight dying. Do you know why we’re doing this?”

Spike shot her a look. “Wait, you don’t?” Then he grabbed five scrolls from his right, opened them, and glanced over them. “I thought you were helping with the whole thing!”

“Rarity told me to do that.” Fluttershy scratched the back of her head. “So I tried to get the birdies to sing at the wedding, and helped Pinkie Pie scare them with the scarecrow suit.”

Spike nodded. “Did it help?”

“They got intimidated and called on their eagle friends.”

“Oh.”

“And now the eagles are terrorizing the town. Pinkie Pie is out there trying to get them to go away, but they keep pecking at her eyeballs.” Fluttershy sighed. “So in the end I didn’t understand anything.”

Spike stopped reading, blinked, then looked at Fluttershy. “At her eyeballs?”

“At her eyeballs.”

“Wow. Is it painful?”

“It’s her eyeballs. I don’t know how that could not be painful.”

“Well. Good point! So you didn’t understand anything?”

“No. Not really.” Fluttershy grabbed one of the white scrolls and passed it over to Spike, just as she’d been commanded to do. She was good at this, she thought. She could make a living out of handling paperwork. She was so talented. “I know Rarity means well. And she’s really smart.” Fluttershy made a face. “Maybe I’m just not trying hard enough?”

“Oh, no, that’s probably not it.” Spike bared his teeth, in what was probably not a conscious gesture. “I mean, it’s not like Twilight told us why she wanted to do this anyway, right? I think she just expected us to know. Or to teach you and Rainbow Dash! This can be a learning experience.”

Fluttershy nodded. “So you get the funeral?”

“Yeah!”

“Um. How come?”

“I’m a dragon!” Spike showed off his claws at Fluttershy and stuck out his tongue, hissing like a snake. There was an almost manic quality to his movements. “Death is in my blood, right? Apex predator!”

“Oh. So you can tell me what is going on?”

“Geez. I guess?” Spike scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, Rarity told you you’d pick it up on your own, but I suppose giving you some help won’t hurt.” He shrugged. “Twilight just wants to die because… Well. It’s kind of pretty!”

“What? Dying?”

Spike nodded. “Yeah! Well, not dying, but more like… When you die, others get sad. Right? That’s kind of pretty, I think.”

Fluttershy landed just so she could take a step back in a more poignant way. Flying backwards lacked the punch she wanted to give to the gesture. “Pretty? I… I don’t think dying is pretty. That sounds…”

“No, no. I don’t mean it that way!” Spike shook his head, went back to his scrolls. “It’s just—wait.” He frowned, and looked up. “Fluttershy, can you see a scroll with a golden seal? I need it.”

“Um.” Fluttershy looked around. Soon enough, she found it—it was right behind Spike—and she went to grab it…

And then she gave it a better look. Hey, it had the perfect shape to become the Bunny Pile’s second ear.

So she grabbed the first random scroll that came to her and gave it to Spike. “Here,” she said.

“Thanks!” Spike didn’t even look at it, he just opened it and kept working. “Anyway—it’s not that Twilight likes dying. Nobody likes that, I think. Just that… have you ever thought of why ponies get sad when somepony dies?”

Fluttershy picked the scroll with the golden seal, but when Spike turned to her she just hid it behind her back. “Ah. Uh. Because they’re dead?”

“Yeah. But that doesn’t really mean anything.” Spike smiled at her, and looked back at his scrolls. “We get sad because they’re gone, right? Which is pretty cool! We think death is the saddest thing ever.”

A frown. Fluttershy placed the scroll on the Bunny Pile. Now, it was complete. “And… that is good?”

“Well, not good. I just said it’s sad.” Spike shrugged. “But I guess it’s kind of pretty. Because it’s the saddest thing we can think of! And it just means that… Well. You can’t see that somepony whenever you want anymore. It’s not death that’s sad. It’s goodbyes.”

“Oh.”

“So ponies being sad when others die is just… Well. It’s just because there’s a lot of love going around. So they miss each other!”

Fluttershy looked down. She turned to the Bunny Pile—it was perfect, beautiful, her masterpiece—and thought about Twilight.

Twilight, who was quite clearly alive as far as she was concerned.

“I don’t think I understand it,” she said, voice soft. “Is that why Twilight wants to die? Because she wants to know if she’ll be missed?”

“A little? I guess. But that’s not what really matters.” Spike sent some more scrolls, and picked up others. “It’s just that… well, the dead pony is never the one affected, right?” There was a pause, and then Spike spoke a little slower, a little more carefully. “It’s everypony else who gets sad. You only fear death when you’re left alive after it happens. And funerals help with that!”

“What? How?”

Spike shrugged. “You get sad all of a sudden, and then you say goodbye, and then you’re not that sad. You get it off your chest. Twilight wants that.”

Fluttershy sat down, right next to the Bunny Pile. “You seem to have thought a lot about this.”

“Told you. I’m a dragon!”

“Apex predator?”

“Yeah.” Pause. “Yeah! Apex predator. It’s because of that.”

Dragons are ancient beasts. They live so long, they barely count as mortals.

Both Fluttershy and Spike knew this. He was probably going to outlive them all, sans maybe Twilight. If he was lucky.

None of them said another word for a while.

“Hi, Mayor Mare!”

Mayor Mare turned around, her face deepened in a frown. “Pinkie Pie.” she said. “Good afternoon. You’re just the mare I wanted to see, this is highly unprof—uh. Pinkie Pie?”

“Yes?”

“What…? What happened to your eyeballs?”

“Eagles!”

Pause.

Mayor Mare frowned. “Eagles happened?”

“Eagles happened!”

“Can you… elaborate, or…?”

“Fluttershy asked me to make her sad!” Pinkie said, and the smile in her face could have brought a puppy back to life [9]. “Because we need the birds to sing. But that annoyed the eagles, so now they’re pecking at me whenever I come close to Town Hall!”

[9] This was not an exaggeration. Pinkie Pie’s puppy pre-posthumous powers were both a proven fact and the main reason why the Apples hadn’t buried Winona yet.

“Oh.” Mayor Mare was still frowning; a perfect reflection of Pinkie Pie’s smile. Put together, they looked like theater masks for a classical drama. “Well, at least you sound like you’re okay. I take it it’s not as bad as it looks?”

“Hahah. You’re mistaken!” Pinkie Pie blinked at her, her smile never faltering. “I’m in agony!”

“I see.”

“So, why are you all frowny, Mayor Mare? It doesn’t look good on you! Today’s a great day! You should smile in days like these.” Pinkie pointed at her own face, here, and somehow managed to smile even harder. “See?”

“Hmph.” Mayor Mare, in contrast, pouted even more. Then she blew upwards, to get a flock of hair out of her face, and snorted. “Well, you’d be the first to think that, Pinkie Pie. So far, today has been terrible.”

“Aaaaw. What?” Pinkie bopped closer to Mayor Mare and cocked her head to the side, sitting on the ground. “Why? What happened?”

“Well.” Mayor Mare sighed. “This and that, I suppose. Where to even start, really…?”

Five hours to the funeral. Five hours and five minutes to the explosion.

This conversation—and everything that followed—was, of course, taking place in Ponyville. But Ponyville, small as it is, is not specific enough: Mayor Mare and Pinkie Pie were talking right in front of Carousel Boutique.

Rarity’s store.

Which was completely and absolutely closed, a sign reading I’ll be back in five minutes! hanging from its door.

“My schedule is terribly busy, and the one day I take an afternoon off, this happens! I worked terribly hard to get some free day today, specifically for this. And the store is closed!” Mayor Mare half-knocked half-kicked the door. “For no reason!”

Pinkie Pie looked at the door, then at Mayor Mare. “Actually, there is a reason!” she chirped.

“Oh, I am so angry at Rarity right now,” Mayor Mare went on. She wasn’t even looking at Pinkie, she was just gazing into the horizon. “She knew I was coming today! We scheduled it so she could fit me for a dress, and she just disappeared without notice! I need that dress, Pinkie Pie, and that’s a matter of utmost importance!”

Pinkie cocked her head to the other side, now. Her big eyes were full of questions. She voiced one of them. “And what is that dress for?”

“Why, Winter Wrap Up, of course!” Mayor Mare said. “Princess Celestia herself is coming to Ponyville this year. It’s a great honor, I must look presentable! I was assured that Carousel Boutique had just what I needed, and I trusted Rarity to help me with this. But now she’s gone!”

“Oh.”

“And Princess Celestia comes tomorrow! She won’t have any time to make my dress if she doesn’t appear immediately!” Pause. “And she’s not appearing immediately! I’ve been waiting in here for three hours, Pinkie Pie. Rarity assured me that she’ll dedicate her entire afternoon to me, and only to me. And now she’s gone!”

Pinkie nodded. She looked at the sign on the door. She looked at Mayor Mare. “She is!” she eventually said. “Gone, I mean. From the store!”

“Yes. Yes, Pinkie, I know. I just told you.” Mayor Mare sighed, here, but it wasn’t a tired sigh, or a dishearten sigh. It was the sigh of a pony who’s ready to chew on some eyeballs. “Rarity better have an excuse for this. It better be the most urgent of emergencies, something that nopony could have seen coming, or else…”

And here, Mayor Mare shut up, and she never actually got to finish the sentence. But the silence that followed wasn’t just threatening. It was the silence of somepony who’s been trapped in otherworldly hellscapes of bureaucracy before. The silence of somepony who has dealt with magic too dark to speak of.

The silence of a politician.

It is a testament to Pinkie Pie’s intelligence that she didn’t actually go on a flashback after hearing these words. She merely remembered, which wasn’t as visually interesting from a purely storytelling standpoint, but it was more efficient and saved a lot of time.

Here are the two things she remembered, in no particular order:

A) Mayor Mare was the mayor of Ponyville, and as such, the second most powerful pony around. Only now that Twilight was dead she had actually become the first.

B) Twilight Sparkle had scheduled her own death heavily, and they all had known this was coming with more than a week in advance.

Now, because Pinkie Pie was a party pony, she understood that sometimes things just catch you off guard, and you forget some important things, and so nopony could blame Rarity for forgetting all about Mayor Mare, seeing how she was the one planning Twilight’s funeral.

But, because Pinkie Pie was a party planner, she also understood that Rarity had known about the funeral with more than enough time to think about Mayor Mare, and she was totally the one to blame for this.

So Rarity was guilty but also completely innocent, Pinkie figured. At the same time [10]. This caused a surprisingly complicated moral dilemma regarding what to do and who was going to take responsibility.

[10] When your entire personality can be defined as “mature childishness,” you’re sort of forced to become an expert on doublethink. This only went on to cement Rarity’s theory: if Pinkie Pie had chosen to become a cult leader, Equestria would’ve been doomed long ago.

But fortunately for everypony, Pinkie loved Rarity a lot, so she just up and lied.

“Well. I have no idea where Rarity is!” she said, and the honesty in her voice would have offended Applejack to her very core. “But I’m sure there was an emergency. An unexpected one. A really unexpected one!” She got up, now, and waved both front legs in the air, eyes the size of plates. “Like, something huge! Gigantic! Equestria is probably in danger!”

Mayor Mare blinked at this, and took a step back. “Oh. Geez, really?”

“Yeah! Why else would Rarity leave the store? This is probably something she would have never seen coming. She could have never prevented this, oh no.” Pinkie nodded, sorta getting convinced by the strength of her own argument. “She’s far too smart for this!”

“Hm.” Mayor Mare rubbed her chin and looked down. “You might have a point, Pinkie Pie.”

“Right? I totally do. I’m so good at this!”

“Indeed, you are,” Mayor Mare said. “Of course, I’m still going to wait for Rarity. I’m sure her excuses will live up to my expectations.”

“Yeah! They probably will.”

And after this incredibly deep chat both mares simply stood there in silence, enjoying each other’s company and reveling on the beauty of Ponyville and its inhabitants. Such is the charm of small towns—they let you enjoy the silence, the company of your neighbors, for they are also your friends.

It was a pleasant silence, the one they shared.

Until Mayor Mare went and ruined it all.

“So, Pinkie Pie,” she said, in the tone of someone who’s not completely sure if she should be talking but won’t let that simple fact get in their way. “I can’t help but notice you’re dressed as a scarecrow.”

“I am!” She was. Pinkie Pie could out-lie a politician if she had to, but here she was saying the absolute truth. She was, indeed, dressed as a scarecrow. “It was Applejack’s costume, but she gave it to me. It’s really comfy!”

“I see.” Pause. Mayor Mare tapped a hoof on the ground. “And… I’m sorry to ask, but—is there any reason why you’re wearing this?”

“Yeah! To scare off the birds!”

“Oh.”

Pinkie Pie saw this explanation was not enough, and so she made an effort to clarify her situation. “Because I need to make Fluttershy sad,” she said. “That’s why the eagles attacked me!”

“Right! Right, of course. Of course.” Mayor Mare nodded. “It explains everything.”

“Yeah!”

Pause.

“Pinkie Pie?”

“Mayor Mare!”

“That doesn’t actually explain anything.”

“I know! I was testing you.” Pinkie Pie punched Mayor Mare’s shoulder and gave her a giggle. Mayor Mare didn’t giggle back, but Pinkie knew she was laughing in her heart. “Fluttershy asked me to make her birds sad, because otherwise they can’t sing sad songs. They can’t sing polka at a funeral!” Here Pinkie Pie looked to her left and right, to make sure nopony was near, and then she got closer to Mayor Mare and whispered. “It would be improper!” Then she went back to her normal voice. “So I dressed up as a scarecrow. That’s scary to birds!”

“A funeral?”

“Yeah!” Pinkie said. “Twilight’s dead, and we’re taking care of everything. It’ll be fun! In a sad way.” She thought about this. “Well, actually, it will just be sad. But in a fun way!”

“Well, y—wait.” Mayor Mare’s ears perked up. “Twilight? Twilight died?”

“Yeah!”

“You mean Princess Twilight Sparkle?”

“Yeah!”

“But…” Mayor Mare took off her glasses, if only because she couldn’t really show as much confusion as she wanted to with them on. One really needed to show the entire face to pull off the kind of expression she was making. “But—she’s a princess!”

“I know!” Pinkie replied. “She can’t die. That’s why she’s dying!”

“I mean, she can’t die! It’s impossible! There’s no way to…!”

And here, Mayor Mare stopped talking, and she closed her mouth.

Then, she looked at Pinkie Pie. Really looked at Pinkie Pie, scarecrow costume and all. She tried not to look at her eyeballs too much—that couldn’t be healthy, no matter how you looked at it—but still, she took in the full picture.

The thing about Pinkie Pie is, she’s sort of like a professional boxer two weight categories above you. There are many ways to face her. Some fools will say you can stand a chance, if you really try. But in the end, there are really only two options—either you roll with the punches, or you die.

Mayor Mare, while an acquaintance of the pink revolution herself, wasn’t quite used to her yet. Still, in that moment, she caught a glimpse of Pinkie’s true personality. Of the terrible, terrifying thing hiding behind that big bright smile.

It was a bigger, brighter smile.

So she just squinted ever so slightly, and asked: “Is she… dead?”

“Yeah!”

“Like, really dead? Forever?”

“Yeah! At least for today.” Pinkie shrugged. “She’ll be fine tomorrow, though. Just in time for Winter Wrap Up! Twilight is really good with details like this. If she dies now, she’s got her schedule all cleared up for when Celestia comes, see?”

“…Of course.” Mayor Mare nodded. “So she’s dead.”

“Yep!”

“But tomorrow she’ll be alive.”

“Yep!”

“So she’s not really dead.”

“Nope!” Pause. “Wait. Yep? Uh, she’s dead.” Pinkie made a face. “I don’t know how to answer that question! But she’s totally dead.”

“Rrrright.”

“And we’re organizing the funeral! We knew it was coming, but it’s still a lot of work!” Pinkie pointed at her clothes. “Right now I’m scaring the birds away—and failing! Hahah. Horribly!—but I’m supposed to be decorating Town Hall!”

Mayor Mare arched an eyebrow. “Decorating?”

“Yeah! This is going to be a huge funeral. So, like a party, but with a dead pony.” Pinkie winked at Mayor Mare. “And everypony knows I’m the best at parties! And decorating. Mostly parties! Everypony else is helping. Applejack is getting a grave, Spike is writing invitations...”

“Well.” Mayor Mare frowned. Dying was illegal, but she supposed nothing had been said about funerals. “I suppose that does sound like a lot of work, yes. Funerals are hardly easy to go through.”

“But we’re managing. Twilight planned it all in advance!” Pinkie grinned. “She’s the best at organizing things.”

“I’m sorry. Wasn’t Princess Twilight dead?”

“She is! But she left instructions for Raaaaaaaaa—”

Mayor Mare arched an eyebrow.

Pinkie Pie’s pupils turned into two tiny dots.

“—aaaaaaaaaa—”

Both mares locked eyes, Pinkie’s mouth still moving, her brain racing.

“—aaaaaaaaaa—”

Mayor Mare coughed. “Um. Pinkie?”

“—aame!” Pinkie yelled, springing back into reality, her ears suddenly twitching up. Mayor Mare flinched. “Me!” Pinkie repeated. “I’m the one organizing everything. Yes! Because I’m good at planning parties! I mean, it’s pretty much the same, right?”

And then, just like a wave cleans of the shore of the beach, the shadow of suspicion abandoned Mayor Mare’s face. “Oh, of course, of course. You’re more than capable for the job, I’m sure of it, Pinkie Pie.” Pause. “Although I find it strange that you didn’t ask Applejack to do this, seeing how she’s so knowledgeable about the matters of death.”

Pinkie’s smile became strained. “Yes! That. Would have made a lot of sense!”

“But she’s not the organizer.”

“Apparently not!”

“Well, I am sure Princess Twilight knew exactly what she was doing when she selected you as her stand-in for this matter, Pinkie Pie. You’ll do a great job.” Then Mayor Mare looked at the door of Carousel Boutique—her face darkened for a second there—and then back at Pinkie. “Do you need any help?”

Pinkie didn’t move. “What?”

“With the funeral? I have nothing to do, and today is my day off, after all. Seeing how your friend left me hanging...” Another death glare at the Boutique. “I figure I might be of assistance with the funeral.”

“Oh.”

“Surely Princess Twilight would appreciate my participation. After all, I am the mayor.” Mayor Mare stuck out her chest here, with maybe a little bit of pride. “I can always get more ponies to help, or—ah! Of course! I could give a speech!”

“A… speech?”

“Indeed! Oh, that would be just perfect, yes. A speech at the ceremony—as a friend, and a fellow governor, I’m sure I can give some interesting insight on the burial of Princess Twilight Sparkle.” She smiled at Pinkie Pie. “Don’t you think?”

“Uuuuuh…”

“Of course, of course. I don’t mind taking that weight off your shoulders, Pinkie Pie. After all, with Rarity gone, you need as much help as you can get. I’m already bursting with ideas! Something forgettable. This is a somber occasion, and it needs to be boring. Everything to do with death has to be boring, that’s why politicians exist. Oh, and what if…?”

And then Mayor Mare went on and on, making suggestions, offering advice, and sort of kind of taking over Pinkie’s role as the organizer of the funeral. Because this wasn’t exactly a party as much as it was a formal event with political undertones, and that was Mayor Mare’s field of expertise after all.

And as this happened, Pinkie just kept smiling and nodding, although her mind was somewhere else. Boy, she was musing. That had been some quick thinking. She had really saved Rarity’s life back there!

Hahah.

Rarity was totally going to kill her.

“Now, Rarity. Before you kill me.” Applejack raised a hoof. “Ah’ve got an explanation for this all.”

“Darling.”

Less than three hours to the funeral (plus eight minutes to the explosion), and Rarity’s “darling” sounded like a knife being sharpened.

But let it never be said that the Apples can’t compete with the Flower Trio when it comes to bravery, now and then. Applejack took a deep breath, and gave her excuses.

“So, dyin’s illegal now.”

“Darling.”

That one hadn’t been the sharpening of a knife. That had been the cock of a gun.

Applejack swallowed. “And, uh. Um. Well, Ah couldn’t find Mayor Mare to ask her to change this. So Ah told the stallion that was guardin’ her door—have you met him, by the way?”

Rarity thought about this. “Boring guy?” she asked. “Feels like he’s got flour instead of blood?”

“That one! Ah call him Plankwood. ‘Cause Ah feel like hittin’ him with a hammer. Anyway—Ah was outta options!”

“Out of options.”

“Outta options!” Applejack tipped her hat. “So. He told me that dyin’s illegal, and Twilight ain’t dead. And Ah said she was. And he said she wasn’t.” And here Applejack made the kind of face one usually reserved for talking with Pinkie Pie. “And there was a really long argument ‘bout it. But then Ah thought, hey! Ah’m the Element of Honesty!”

“Hmm-hmm.”

“And if you can’t trust my word, then what can you do? So Ah went to that Plankwood stallion, right? And Ah looked him dead in the eye.” Applejack got closer to Rarity, here, and she locked gazes with her. “And Ah said, you can trust my word here: Princess Twilight is dead. Never mind the law, there ain’t a pony around who’s as sure as me of Twilight’s passin’!”

Rarity did not take a step back. Instead, she just looked at Applejack right back. Then, she sighed. “Well, I presume that’s true,” she said. “You do know about death. And?”

“And that’s why police’s after me!” Applejack said, bright smile on her face. “Ah’m bein’ persecuted for murder.”

“FOR THE LAST TIME!” came the booming voice from outside the palace. It made the windows rattle. “COME OUT WITH YOUR HOOVES IN THE AIR, AND NOPONY ELSE WILL GET HURT!”

“So we can all call this a really silly misunderstandin’, Ah reckon. Do you mind if Ah tell them you’re my hostage? Makes things way easier.”

Rarity’s eye twitched.

Applejack took it as a ‘no’.

There was death in the air.

Surprisingly, this was not due to Rarity—while she was indeed considering murder, Applejack would not die that day. It wasn’t due to the thousand soldiers outside, either. They were out for blood, but they were professionals.

There was death in the air, but the source was much, much worse. For the third and final time, we must address the abomination in the room.

We must look at Spike’s Corner.

It is almost impossible to explain to what lengths the Horror had grown. It deserved a capital letter now, for it was not just a mountain of scrolls and letters anymore—it was a sentient, living being, made entirely of formal greetings and the blood of a young dragon.

Fluttershy had long gone away. No mortal could stand the pressure of Spike’s Corner. Colors that didn’t exist shone across the million clauses and legal forms. A legalese apocalypse of burning minutiae. In the midst of it, Spike, getting lost in time, lost in space, lost in the labyrinth of his own madness.

The Horror had been born out of mere paper, out of the need to declare the extinction of an immortal. Nothing but words in paper, piled on top of each other, saying a million things at once.

Because there is magic in words, that’s why it’s called spelling, but there is also death. That’s why it’s called a sentence.

“Huh.” Applejack looked at Spike’s Corner after the dragon shrieked in terror and finally collapsed, and arched an exquisite eyebrow at it. “Rarity? What’s up with that?”

Rarity didn’t even bother a glance. She was sitting at the table, massaging her temples. “You mean Spike?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, let him be. He’s just feeling a bit overdramatic, is all.”

“Is that a bunny statue he’s made with scrolls?”

Rarity hmm-ed. “Seems so.”

“Doesn’t quite fit the whole ‘heretic dimension’ theme he’s goin’ for, Ah think.” Applejack shook her head. “Kids these days don’t appreciate thematic consistency. So, what are we gonna do with the guards? Do you have any plans?”

Rarity massaged her temples even harder. “No. Not yet. I wasn’t really expecting you to become a wanted criminal in the middle of the funeral, Applejack, dear, so you’ll have to excuse me.”

“Aw, shucks.” Applejack chuckled at this and trotted to Rarity, big smile on her face. “Now, there’s no reason to apologize! This ain’t your fault, is it?”

Rarity glared daggers. “I,” she said, speaking slowly, “was being sarcastic.”

“Well, no need to apologize for that either. We’re all friends in here!” Applejack just smiled a little more, and then patted Rarity’s head with the kind of affection that feels like mockery. “There, there.” Then, she looked around. “Also, why are there so many roses in here?”

And Rarity made a face, and she let herself be patted, just like Fluttershy had done before. For it is the fate of the hunter to some day become the hunted. “Ugh,” she said. “You don’t want to know. I asked Pinkie Pie to bring them here and discuss the decorations together, but then Pinkie never arrived, and I was left alone with Roseluck, and—”

Applejack smirked at this. The Map [11] was barely visible—its entire surface was covered by bouquets and bouquets of roses. AJ estimated at least a hundred flowers in there, if not more. “And she got you to buy all her flowers. Again.”

[11] The table. The Table? Map Table? Table Map. Applejack wasn’t sure what to call it. The table that sometimes was a Map. The Map that became a table when you weren’t looking. The Maple with a ta—The thing between the thrones.

And Rarity just groaned. “I have no idea how she does it! It feels like she could murder you! It’s the accent, I’m positive it’s the accent, or maybe something in her eye that—”

“WE CAN RESOLVE THIS PEACEFULLY!” The voice came from outside again—once more, the windows rattled. Spike’s Corner wavered, but didn’t fall. For you can’t kill what is eternal. There is no end to the horrors of hell. “JUST COME OUT AND EVERYTHING WILL TURN OUT RIGHT!”

Applejack winced at the sound, but once she saw Rarity made no comment, she relaxed her shoulders and picked up one of the roses. “…They’re really pretty, though. You’ve got good taste!”

“Well. Thank you, I suppose.” Rarity sighed and grabbed one of the roses with her magic. “I must admit, they are beautiful,” she muttered as she inspected the flower. “And I do have a wonderful taste. I just wish I’d had more of a voice in the matter of which flowers to pick. I was thinking perhaps chrysanthemums would look good…”

A flick of the wrist, and the rose went straight to Applejack’s mouth. She chewed it, enjoying the flavor, and then went on patting Rarity’s head. “Chrysanthewhat?”

“Mums.” Rarity kept twirling the rose in place with her magic, kept massaging her temples, kept being patted. She was a natural-born multitasker. “Chrysanthemums.”

Applejack frowned. “That ain’t right.”

“THERE’S NO NEED TO BE VIOLENT!” Windows rattling. The voice was louder than ever. “THIS IS WHAT PRINCESS TWILIGHT WOULD HAVE WANTED!”

“Oh. You think so?” Rarity blinked at this, and looked at Applejack. “Well, then maybe Roseluck was right after all. Twilight will look wonderful surrounded by these, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah! And Twilight ain’t a mum. She ain’t pregnant. She’s just really wet.”

Pause.

“Applejack?”

“Rarity?”

“Sometimes I can’t tell if you have no idea what I’m talking about, or if you understand me perfectly. And I don’t know which idea is more terrifying.”

“Heeeey!” Suddenly, a scream from above. Rarity jerked up from her chair, eyes wide. Applejack looked around and held her hat. “Watch out down theeereee!”

Then there was a crash, and a loud noise.

Being friends with Pinkie Pie makes you afraid of the dark; being friends with Rainbow Dash makes you look up when you get scared. There was a whirlpool of color and a blur of light blue, and suddenly broken glass was raining in the room and Applejack and Rarity were darting to the side to avoid being cut.

Then a thump! and Rainbow Dash landed in the space between them, mane covered in shards of glass, cocky grin in her face.

She took a second to look at her friends, to make sure they were okay—and then she winked at them. “Hi there!” she said. “Sorry for the window. Door was locked. Did you know you’re being sieged?”

A pause. Rarity and Applejack looked at Dash. Then, at the broken glass. Then, again at Dash.

Then Rarity spoke. “Did you just burst through a window?”

“Door was locked.”

“Second question,” Applejack said, walking towards Dash and brushing some of the glass out of her mane. “Did you burst through a closed window?”

Dash thought about it. “Short answer or long answer?”

“Short.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Rarity frowned. “Long answer?”

“Yes, and also it was pretty sweet.”

A sigh, and Applejack, who had finished cleaning up Rainbow, tipped her hat. “You know what, Dash? Whenever Ah think Ah know you like the back of my hoof, you still manage to surprise me. Never change.”

“No. No, no, no.” Rarity stepped up, now, and she proceeded to fix Dash’s mane. “By all means, you are perfectly free to change forever, and as soon as possible. It would be a great thing, and we would all be happy.”

“Right.” Dash tried to move away from Rarity, but a flash of the horn and a good yank kept her in place, so she just made a grumpy face. “Well. I have good news and bad news. Also, you’re being super sieged. There’s, like, an entire army out there.”

“PLEASE! WE’RE HERE TO HELP YOU! YOU DON’T NEED TO DO THIS!”

Rarity finished up Dash’s mane, but then she just kept going. “Yes, dear,” she said. “Somehow, we managed to notice.”

“You’ve got bad news?” AJ asked, arching an eyebrow. “‘Cause Ah doubt things can get worse.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Then Applejack stuck out her chest and pointed at herself with pride. “Ah’ve killed Twilight, for example.”

“Woah!” Dash tried to rush to Applejack—and then Rarity yanked again. She stood in place, glaring with huge eyes. “No way! Really? Why?”

“Needed her to die.”

“That is so cool!”

And Applejack just smiled. “Yeah. Ah get things done. Ah’m ice cold.”

Rarity puckered her lips as she gave Rainbow’s mane the final touches. “Applejack, darling, I don’t think you should be having this much fun, seeing how you just committed murder. Seems rather, ah, tasteless?”

“Aw, Rares. It’s the little things that make life worthwhile.”

“Tell Twilight that.”

“Gagh!” Dash jerked, and finally managed to get away from Rarity’s grasp. She immediately took flight and hovered away from her friends reach, her mane now a pompous froufrou mountain of non-aerodynamic elegance. She tried to fiddle with it, failed, grumped, then looked at her friends. “Well, murder aside,” she said. “So, good news. We’ve got a grave!”

“Woah!” Applejack beamed at this. “We do?”

“Yeah, I just dug a hole right next to that shed your brother uses to store his shovel. I’m sure it’s what Twilight would have wanted.”

“…Woah.” Applejack beamed slightly less at this. “You… did?”

“I know. I’m great.”

“Well, this is just perfect,” Rarity muttered, squinting. “We’re going to bring the crème de la crème of Canterlot so they can witness us throw the Princess of Friendship into a ditch right next to a shed.”

“Yes. Exactly.” Dash nodded hard at this. Her mane almost toppled. “Now, uh. For the bad news. So, remember how Winter Wrap Up is tomorrow? With Celestia as a special guest?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

“And remember how the weather is supposed to be perfect all week? And we have the entire Weather Patrol on guard to make sure of that?”

“…Yes.”

“Ah don’t like where this is goin’.”

“Right.” Dash nodded. The mountain that was her mane almost toppled. “So. About that.”

Fifteen minutes to the funeral. Twenty minutes to the explosion.

“The birds aren’t singing,” Fluttershy said.

“Mayor Mare just took over the funeral!” Pinkie Pie added, accentuating every major beat in her sentence with a jump. “She said my decorations were too good, and that everything should be a little more formal. And she’s prepared a speech! It’s two hours long!”

“I tried to talk to the birds, but they’re too busy trying to attack everypony’s eyeballs. They, um. They talked with the eagles, and I think they are not a good influence.”

“And the town is full of Royal Guards. And they’re all looking for you, Applejack! And for you too, Rarity. Because they think you’ve disappeared! I had to tell them, because otherwise Mayor Mare was going to kill you. You forgot about her dress!”

“So I tried to look for some substitute, but, um. Well, the Ponytones aren’t available, because you and me are here.” Fluttershy rubbed her forearm. “So I asked the TrebleMakers, but they only do doo-wop or yodeling. One of them has a bagpipe.”

“And it’s super raining. And we still don’t have a grave, because Mayor Mare thinks this is some kind of party. Which it is! Also dying is illegal now.”

“I don’t understand why one of them has a bagpipe, when they sing acapella.” Fluttershy was frowning. “But, um. That’s good for funerals. Right? Bagpipes are traditional.”

“And Spike has collapsed in the middle of what is probably a compressed Armageddon!” Pinkie said. “Also, there’s a compressed Armageddon, like, right there!”

“Oh.” Fluttershy looked at Pinkie, who nodded, and then looked at Rarity once more. “And the guests have arrived.”

“Yeah! There are, like, a million ponies out there. Most of them are super important. And they’re all looking forward to see you!”

It was around this time that Rarity started screaming, more or less.

Spike’s Corner had grown in size once more—it stood tall and black, like a tumor festering Ponyville’s Castle. The Royal Guards were still screaming at the doors. The Map Room was full of roses and yet nopony was being currently ravished.

Everything was doomed

And then Applejack brought peace.

“Okay,” she said, and she put on her Serious Voice, the one she reserved for important matters, the one she used when burying a member of her family. “Girls. Calm down.”

“I’m calm!” Pinkie chirped.

“Oh.” Pause. “Then good work, Pinkie. You’re ahead of schedule.”

“Hah!”

“Now, to the rest of you.” Applejack gave them a stern look. Rarity was still screaming. “Don’t worry. We can manage. We just have to think about it.”

“Are you sure?” Dash was the first one to rebel against AJ’s authority. “Because this sounds like a total screw-up so far. I mean, you can’t even get out of the Castle!”

“Well. We can fix that, Ah think.” Applejack frowned. “We just need somepony with enough authority to call the Royal Guards off, Ah guess. See? Every problem has a solution!”

“And, um. What about the eagles?” Fluttershy looked around. “I can’t really talk to them. They won’t listen.”

Dash scoffed. “Can’t we push them away or something?”

“I don’t think so!” Pinkie said. “They will eat your eyeballs!”

“Oh. Ew.”

“Well, you can always move them around with magic, I suppose. They don’t like magic, so they wouldn’t get near you.” Fluttershy frowned. “But you would need a lot of magic. There are a lot of eagles.”

“And Spike’s collapsed in there!” Pinkie pointed at Spike’s Corner. Even she had to look away eventually. “We need somepony to take him out, but you need to be really powerful to do that! Or immortal. We need somepony who’s immortal and powerful!”

“And then there’s the guests,” Fluttershy continued. “And, um, Mayor Mare. I guess, if you’ve got enough charisma…”

“Right. See?” Applejack sounded way less confident now, but she still pushed through. “Ah mean, sure. It’s complicated. But we just—Ah mean, we just need a lot of authority, a lot of magic, and a lot of charisma.”

“And immortality!” Pinkie said.

“And immortality,” Applejack added.

“A lot of immortality!”

“A lot of immortality. Whatever.” Applejack looked at Rarity. “That can be done, right?”

Rarity’s eye twitched. “Applejack, dear,” she said. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but everything is ruined!” Her voice got louder. “There’s no time, there are a thousand problems, we don’t have a single solution available, and even if we had them it’s impossible to micromanage so many things at once!”

The yell was followed by silence, and an utter sense of defeat.

Then, Fluttershy spoke.

“We need Twilight.”

And that’s all it took.

In the end, you only fear death if you’re left alive afterwards. Death is scary, and mysterious, and painful—but death is also inevitable, and another part of life.

They understood this, in a sense. Some more than others, but they understood this.

Twilight was going to have a funeral, come rain, hail, or snow. She was going to die today, and rise tomorrow, just as planned. If there were problems, then Rarity and the rest would wing it—but Twilight herself would do nothing but lay dead.

Fifteen minutes later, the funeral started. The explosion was yet to come.

All according to schedule.

Twilight's in a Casket

They had doubted Pinkie Pie. Oooooh, they had doubted her so much.

It made sense to be wary. There were a lot [1] of angry ponies outside the Castle, yelling and crying and yelling some more—a Princess dying was a big deal, even if she had only died for one day.

[1] Wait, scratch that, Pinkie thought. Not a lot. There were a loooooooooooot.

And also, because Applejack was a murderer now. Which was pretty fun! But also pretty bad. But in a fun way!

So they were all going to jail. Never mind that Twilight had been the one killing Twilight – the Royal Guards never cared about who had actually committed the crime – it was all about who looked better in the dungeons!

And Pinkie was not going to survive in prison. Hahah, wow. No. No, just, oh Celestia. Nary a balloon in there. Perish the thought. Yikes.

So there she was, now, climbing up to the roof of Twilight’s Castle. It was five minutes to the explosion—although Pinkie herself didn’t know that yet—and three minutes into the funeral, and Pinkie was running fast, to get up there as soon as possible.

It was at this point that Pinkie allowed herself to have a flashback, instead of just remembering. It took a lil’ bit longer, but it was more visually interesting, and Pinkie liked to spice things up now and then.

”All right,” Applejack had said, Serious Face on. Pinkie could tell that was a Serious Face because it looked exactly like Applejack’s normal face, only now it was more Serious. “So, the Guards. We gotta take care of ‘em. And the nobles!”

Rarity eyed her. “You sound awfully happy for the situation we’re facing.”

“Ah’m not. Look at my face.”

“Handsome as always, dear.”

“Thanks! Ah think so, too. Anyway!” Applejack tipped her hat and looked out the window. Dash was just a dot in the distance now, so only Rarity, Pinkie, Fluttershy, and AJ herself remained. “How angry’s the crowd outside?”

“Very!” Pinkie chirped.

“Great. Well, we gotta take care of business anyway.” Applejack just shook her head and looked at Rarity, still Serious. “Say, you’re the leader while Twi’s dead. Outta the four of us, who’s the most suited to go out there and deal with a bunch of uppity nobles and angry Royal Guards?”

A small pause, as Rarity looked at them all thoughtfully.

“Literally anypony but Pinkie Pie,” she said.

“Gotcha. And outta the four of us, who can actually go out there and deal with a bunch of uppity nobles and angry Royal Guards?”

“Literally nopony but Pinkie Pie.”

And Applejack just shrugged at looked at Pinkie. “Well,” she said. “That’s that.”

...And that was that! Because Rarity had to hide from Mayor Mare, and Applejack had to hide from the Royal Guards, and Fluttershy was Fluttershy. So now, Pinkie Pie had to take care of business!

Oh, but could Pinkie Pie take care of business? That was the real question.

(The answer was yes.)

(She totally could.)

Ponyville was quite a sight to behold at that moment. Pinkie had seen big cities before—Manehattan, Canterlot, you name it—and she was no stranger to large crowds, but this one here?

This one was a doozy.

The Royal Guards were yelling:

“JUST STEP OUT OF THE BUILDING, AND NOPONY ELSE NEEDS TO GET HURT!”

And the nobles were muttering:

“I have to say, this is not nearly as classy as I thought it would be. If we were commoners, I’m quite certain we would be rioting already.”

“Quite so.”

“Wonderfully put, my dear.”

It was chaos. Pure, unadulterated chaos. And then Pinkie stepped out and stood on the Castle’s rooftop.

And the world stopped in its tracks.

The Pink Messiah herself stood tall, a stark silhouette against the sun. Glorious, brilliant, breathtaking. She took it all in, and stuck out her chest, eyes roaming over the horizon, and taking in the crowd.

Yeah, one could see why Rarity had been so wary. But one could also see that Rarity had wildly underestimated Pinkie’s abilities.

She walked up to the very edge of the roof of the tallest tower, and her hoofsteps echoed like cannonfire. You don’t become the premier party pony of Ponyville without learning a trick or two. You don’t befriend every single pony in town without an understanding of crowd mentality.

There was magic in the air, but it wasn’t arcane in nature, oh no. It was much stronger than that.

It was pure raw charisma.

“THE BUFFET,” Pinkie yelled, “IS OPEN!” She pointed vaguely towards Sugarcube Corner. “FREE FOOD OVER THERE!”

Pause, so the crowd could think. A moment, so they could look at each other, and try to understand what the correct course of action was. After all, a noblepony’s day mostly consists of standing around, looking snotty, and eating cheese, so this was a tempting offer.

Pinkie saw the doubt in them. Well then. Let’s give them a nudge.

“ONLY OPEN TILL SEVEN O’CLOCK!”

The crowd rushed towards Sugarcube Corner—most of them, if not all. They moved as one, in an unstoppable stampede of pure cheese hunger. Anything can become a party when snacks are involved; that was Pinkie’s philosophy, and so far she’d never been proven wrong.

There were still some Royal Guards at the doors of the Castle, true, but it was a start. A really good start. Pinkie just kept on smiling, never wavering. “I am,” she said, “so good at this.”

And then the Castle exploded.

It was three minutes into the funeral and five minutes before the explosion, and Rarity and Fluttershy were still inside the building. More specifically, they were still inside the Map Room—which was growing increasingly claustrophobic by the minute, at least to Rarity. She blamed Spike’s Corner, which was pulsating eerily in the background.

“Do you think she will manage?” Rarity was whispering as she peeked out of the windows. The curtains were supposed to be drawn—no reason risking Mayor Mare seeing her in there, or any of the Royal Guards, for all that mattered—but Rarity had opened them anyway, for the just cause of judging Pinkie Pie’s performance. “Ooooh, I don’t know if she’ll manage.”

From behind Rarity came Fluttershy’s voice. “Ggggggh,” it said.

“Oh, dear. I don’t think this crowd is going to move.” A pause. “My. Is that Fancy Pants I’m seeing over there in the crowd? With a pony who is not Fleur de Lis?”

“Gggggggh.”

“Why, it is him! He’s with a Wonderbolt instead! Goodness me, Rainbow Dash needs to hear about this.” Rarity made a beckoning gesture without looking away. “Fluttershy, look! This is the biggest social event Equestria has seen in, why, what must be ages! And Fancy Pants didn’t bring his fiancé! Ooooh, do you think they had a fight?”

“Gggggggh.”

“Oh, I know, I know. We don’t know if she’s his fiancé. But really, what else could they be?” Rarity frowned. “They aren’t siblings, that’s for sure. I’ve seen Fancy Pants when he’s had a couple of extra drinks, and you do not rub yourself like that against your sister.”

“Gggggggh.”

“I’ll let you know that Sweetie Belle is an exception, and we recently hired a professional trainer who might finally get her to stop that, thank you very much.”

“Gggggggh.”

Patience really only gets you so far. Rarity rolled her eyes, let out a sigh, and stepped away from the window. “Fluttershy, dear, might I get a reply out of you that isn’t a wheeze, for a change?”

Fluttershy tried to reply, but no words came from her mouth. Instead…

“Ggggggggh.”

She wheezed.

And Rarity rolled her eyes again. “Oh, please, there’s no need to be so dramatic. You can just ask for help with the casket.”

With the funeral officially starting, it was time to bring the casket to Ponyville Square, where the wake would take place. This meant that Rarity and Fluttershy had to carry Twilight’s dead body all the way through town, and Fluttershy in particular was finding herself overwhelmed by the emotional weight of the situation.

And the literal weight, too. Twilight’s casket was seven times the size it needed to be, and also made of solid gold.

Two minutes to the explosion.

“Why—huff.” As soon as Rarity helped her put the coffin down, Shy sat on the ground, red-faced. She swallowed, tried to get some air. Failed. Choked. Coughed. “Wheeze.”

“Take your time, darling.”

“Oh gosh. Oh dear.” Fluttershy swallowed again. “I am not fit for this. Wheeze.”

“Can’t quite tell if you’re wheezing or just saying that, sweetie, but by all means, take a minute if you need to.” Rarity looked at the golden coffin—it was, and thank Celestia for that, big enough to stand between her and Spike’s Corner, and take that abomination out of sight—and then back at Fluttershy. “Are you alright?”

“It’s—it’s a very.” Fluttershy paused, and took another deep breath. This time, she didn’t choke on it, and when she spoke again her voice wasn’t trembling anymore. “This is a heavy coffin.”

“Hmm.” Rarity tapped the golden box. It went ‘bonk.’ “Solid gold,” she said. “Our little Twilight deserves the best, doesn’t she? And certainly there’s nothing more fit for a princess.”

“This is a really heavy coffin.”

“Yes, yes, I heard you the first time.” Rarity shook her head, then looked back to the window—with the curtains drawn, she couldn’t peek from this far away. She pouted. “But there’s nothing we can do to fix that now, is there? You’ll just have to endure.”

“Why did we order such a heavy coffin.”

“Because Applejack was supposed to carry it to the wake, mostly.” Rarity’s pout turned into a frown, in an amazing feat of facial flexibility. “But I assumed a wanted criminal shouldn’t go around carrying the dead body of her victim in a giant golden box, so we’ll have to make do with just the two of us, I’m afraid.” And here Rarity just petted Fluttershy again. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“…Do we have to? I mean, can’t we just go outside and ask—?”

“I can’t go outside yet, Fluttershy, dear.” Rarity sighed. “Not until Pinkie Pie clears the crowd, at least. Mayor Mare is out for blood.”

“Right.” Fluttershy shook her head. “Then why can’t I just go out and ask Princess Celestia to solve all this? She can talk with the Royal Guards, and Mayor Mare, too. Maybe even the eagles will listen to her.”

And here Rarity just arched an eyebrow. “Well,” she said. “I suppose, if you’re willing to fly all the way to Canterlot—but you’d miss the funeral, and it has to happen today.”

“What? Why?”

“Because tomorrow is Winter Wrap Up, and Twilight wanted—”

“No, not that.” Fluttershy took another deep breath, and then she got up from the floor, standing right in front of Rarity. She used this new, more dignified position to cock her head to the side and look like a lost kitten. “Why would I need to fly all the way to Canterlot? You said that all the nobles are out there, right? Isn’t Celestia in the crowd?”

It took Rarity a moment.

“Wait,” she said. “You mean—you thought Celestia is in Ponyville now?”

“…You mean she isn’t?”

Rarity could have been really condescending here—but she loved Fluttershy as a dear friend, so she chose not to [2]. Instead, she just shook her head and offered Shy the politest of smiles. “She isn’t,” she said. “This is not for her.”

[2] She was totally going to condescend to Rainbow Dash later, though. It’s not healthy to bottle up this kind of thing.

“Oh.”

“Princess Celestia is immortal, after all,” Rarity said. “And a Princess. She knows, better than anypony else, what Twilight is going through, now that she’s… Well.” She looked at the coffin. “Now that she’s Princess Twilight. She doesn’t need to say goodbye, seeing as how she always knew this was going to happen. And besides, I don’t think Princess Celestia likes funerals; she’s been through enough of them already.”

Fluttershy blinked. “Spike said something similar.”

“Oh?”

“He, um. Well, he said he understood why Twilight wanted to do this,” Fluttershy said. “Because dragons live really long, and he’s probably going to outlive us all. So…”

Rarity nodded. “Yes, of course. It’s the same principle. Princess Celestia, Spike… They understand death. Life does that to you, if you have enough of it.” She patted Fluttershy’s head one last time. “I’ll admit, however, that Princess Celestia could indeed solve all our problems right now, if she were here. But it’s not as if we can go to Canterlot at the moment, in any case.”

“I guess Spike can send her a letter.” Fluttershy looked to Spike’s Corner, then cringed, and hid behind Twilight’s coffin. “Um. As soon as Applejack gets him out of there.”

“Yes. Whenever that happens. However, we can’t risk missing out on the funeral just because Spike is trapped in there—let Applejack be, she’ll manage.” A pause. “I hope. Say, don’t you think you could ask Discord for help? Spike’s Corner looks tailor-made for him, actually.”

“Oh. Um.” Fluttershy hid behind her mane. “Well… I suppose. But unless I ask Spike to send him a letter, the mail always takes a little bit to arrive at his place, and…”

“…And we can’t afford the waiting, of course.” Rarity rolled her eyes. “It’s amazing how we have two of the most powerful living beings that ever existed at our disposal, and yet they’re never here whenever we need their help.” She smiled a confident smile. “But we don’t need them! The moment Pinkie clears the crowd, we’ll be free to take Twilight to her wake.”

“Right.”

“All we need, Fluttershy, is to be careful and take no risks. As long as we do that, I am perfectly sure nothing will go wrong.”

The Castle immediately exploded.

Applejack’s mission had been simple: walk into Spike’s Corner, grab Spike, walk out of Spike’s Corner. Easy as apple pie.

“WHO DARES TO ENTER MY REALM?” boomed the Voice of the Endless. “WHO DARES TO DEFY MANIPHESTOPHELES?!”

The walls shifted; the world turned upside down. Light became dark, black became white. Applejack felt her hooves were not touching the ground anymore – she was floating, now, in an all-consuming void.

She sighed, and massaged the space between her eyes.

“Oooh, boy,” she said. “One of those Ancient Demon thingies, aren’t ya.”

“INDEED!”

This was going to be one of those days that neeeever seems to end, Applejack thought.

“Aw, shucks,” she said, crossing her legs and frowning in the general direction of the booming voice. “How in tarnation did an Ancient Demon even appear in here? We didn’t do anythin’!”

“YOU FOOL!” the voice cried. “I AM NO MERE DEMON! I AM MANIPHESTOPHELES! I AM THE MEMOGORGON, THE KING IN RED TAPE!”

Pause.

Applejack blinked. “The what, now?”

“THE SOUL DRAINER! THE NEVERENDING ENNUI! I AM THE RECURSIVE AND THE REDUNDANT! I AM THE SOUL BINDING IN THE STAMP LINKING!”

“You’re the…?” And here Applejack’s eyes widened. “Oh, Celestia,” she whispered. “Oh, sweet Celestia above. You’re an Ancient Demon of paperwork.”

“MY FLESH IS THE SAWDUST OF A THOUSAND TREES! SLAUGHTERED IN AN ORDERLY, EFFICIENT MANNER, AND PULPED IN THE TEARS OF A MILLION MIDDLE MANAGERS!”

For the first time in ages, and amidst all the exhaustion, AJ felt truly, genuinely scared.

Now, Applejack was a brave mare. She was best friends with Twilight Sparkle, she ran an orchard by the Everfree [3], she had faced demons, chaos incarnate, and even—on one terrifying occasion—Roseluck. And, in spite of it all, she had never once faltered. She was, by all accounts, one of the greatest heroes Equestria had ever seen.

[3] This, in particular, sounded far more dangerous once you realized an orchard is a forest, tamed and humiliated. Farmers love nature, they really do, but theirs is a special kind of love. The kind that involves lots of leather.

But no farmer worth their salt will ever look at a bureaucrat and feel anything but pure, unadulterated fear. Applejack didn’t mind the ‘Ancient Demon’ thing so much, and she wasn’t exactly terrified of the whole ‘floating in an endless void’ business either. But fighting the hellish manifestation of paperwork?

She was out of her league. Completely lost. So she did the one thing she always did whenever she was pressed against the ropes. The last ace under her sleeve, her most desperate tactic, the one thing she would never admit out loud to her friends, not even in a million years.

She asked herself, what would Rarity do?

“Right, flail around and be useless. OOOH SPIIIKE!” She took off her hat, pressed it against her chest, and did the ‘Oh-Celestia-I’m-fainting-somepony-hold-me’ pose. “SAAAAVE ME. SAAAAAVE ME!

“YOU FOOL!” The force of Maniphestopheles’s words ruffled Applejack’s mane and sent her stetson flying. “THERE IS NO ESCAPE! YOU CANNOT RUN FROM YOUR TAXES! YOU CANNOT RUN FROM YOUR LEASES! I AM THE FORM THAT CAN NEVER BE FILLED! I AM THE SMALL PRINT AT THE END OF THE WORLD!”

“Whoa, there!” Applejack caught the Stetson in time, but only just. “Whoo-wee! Ah ain’t goin’ hatless around this void, no siree. ‘Cause, uh. Uh. ‘Cause Ah care about my mane.” Yeah, that sounded Rarity-ish enough. She was so good at this. “Ahem. SPI-I-I-IIIKE! SAAAAVE ME!”

“HAH!” Mephistopheles’s laugh sounded like a papercut felt, multiplied by a thousand. “THIS ‘SPIKE’ YOU SPEAK OF IS THE ONE WHO SUMMONED ME IN THE FIRST PLACE, MORTAL! HE WILL NOT SAVE YOU NOW!”

“SAAAAVE MEE—wait.” Pause. Applejack stopped channeling her inner Rarity and looked in Maniphestopheles’s general direction once again. “Spike?” she asked. “Spike did this?”

“INDEED!”

“How in tarnat—all he had to do was to write some invitations! Maybe a couple letters to Celestia! And he summoned an Ancient Demon by accident?”

“INDEED! AGAIN!”

“Boy. Ah knew he was useless, but this is a new low.”

“YOUR MIND CANNOT COMPREHEND THE DEPTHS OF MY POWER, MORTAL!” Maniphestopheles said. “DARK TONGUES BRING FORTH DARKNESS! OLD MAGIC BIRTHS OLD POWERS! AND LEGAL FORMS SUMMON LEGAL ENTITIES!”

Pause.

Applejack squinted. “Say what now?”

“YOU TRIED TO USE THE LAW TO KILL AN IMMORTAL!” And here, Maniphestopheles’s voice was so loud that the Stetson wasn’t the only thing that suffered—the entirety of Applejack went flying backwards, like a leaf in a hurricane. “YOU USED LEGALESE TO BRING AN END TO THE ENDLESS! THERE IS POWER IN WORDS, BUT THERE IS ALSO DEATH! AND FROM DEATH, I RISE!”

“Oh. Wait.” Applejack frowned, and raised a hoof. “Wait, wait, wait a moment here. You talkin’ about Twilight? You’re here ‘cause of Twilight’s funeral?”

“I AM TALKING ABOUT THE IMMORTAL! THE PRINCESS! THE BRINGER OF MAGIC AND POWER YOU SEEK TO UNDO AND—”

“Yeah, okay, so you’re talkin’ bout Twilight.” AJ waved a hoof. “But then, why are you sayin’ we tried to kill her? She’s wet already!”

A pause.

Ancient Demons don’t usually hesitate, and Mephistopheles in particular was just a disembodied voice in an endless void of inverted colors, but in that pause, Applejack could somehow see him blinking in confusion at least once.

“SHE’S… SHE’S WHAT?”

“Wet! And Ah’m the one who got her like that, apparently. Otherwise it ain’t allowed. That’s why Ah’m here!”

Another pause. Slightly longer.

“WELL. I’M GLAD YOU’RE CONFIDENT ENOUGH IN YOUR, UH, PREFERENCES THAT YOU WOULD SHARE THEM WITH THE WORLD LIKE THIS, BUT QUITE FRANKLY, I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THIS INFORMATION.”

“What?” Applejack frowned. “No! Ah mean she’s dead already!”

And here, Maniphestopheles’ voice changed. It became deeper. Quieter.

Darker.

“WHAT?”

“Yeah, Ah mean, she can’t really have a funeral without dyin’. It’s the whole point, really. See, she turned into an alicorn recently, and Ah reckon she figured she might as well—”

“WHAT?!” Louder, this time.

And Applejack blinked. “Oh. Wait, you’re not askin’ me, are you? You’re just sorta exclaimin’ that in, like, surprise or somethin’—”

“WHAT?!”

“Yeah, okay, you’re exclaimin’ for sure now.”

“HOW DARE YOU?!” And the tremor from his screaming was enough to distort the void itself, bringing forth visions of the very depths of Hell itself. Children screaming. Villages burning. A single law taking over five years to pass. A letter explaining you did not fulfill all the forms correctly and so your scholarship has been denied. “I HOLD CONTROL OVER LIFE! I AM THE ONE WHO CHOOSES WHO COMES AND WHO GOES! I FORBID THE ACT OF DYING ITSELF, AND YOU TELL ME THAT YOU FOOLED ME?! THAT SHE ESCAPED MY GRASP?!”

Silence.

Applejack blinked. “Yeah. Ah guess?”

Maniphestopheles didn’t answer properly; he was too angry to form any coherent sound. Instead, what escaped his throat—if he even had one—was a wordless scream, composed entirely of anger and raw power, of fury and legal forms.

He screamed, and screamed, both in hate and frustration. Applejack was sent flying by the sheer strength of the noise, but that was just the beginning. The scream seemed to last for an eternity. It seemed to elongate time and space themselves.

And it was still not enough to express even a millionth of what Maniphestopheles, the Memogorgon, the King in Red Tape, was feeling. So, in a show of absolute strength, he let it all out in one burst.

Spike’s Corner alone, non-Euclidean or not, was not enough to contain it.

And that’s why the Castle exploded.

It’s not easy to be part of the Weather Patrol.

There was danger in there, sure. You can’t really, say, face an entire thunderstorm by yourself with nothing but your hooves and some attitude, and not end up questioning your life choices at least a little bit. But it was so much more than that.

It was the pressure, knowing that Ponyville’s well-being, at its most fundamental level, depended on you doing your job. It was knowing that if you mess up, you’ll make every pegasus look bad, not just you. It was knowing that if you don’t time the rains correctly, you might actually run out of food.

And above it all, it was the fact that every single time you talked about those hardships, some idiot would make a “We’ll just have to weather the weather!” joke. Every. Single. Time.

So when Rainbow Dash got to the storm front, twenty minutes before the funeral (and twenty eight before the explosion) she wasn’t smiling. She was wearing her Weather Patrol face, and her Weather Patrol safety goggles [4].

[4] On her forehead. Looked sweet.

The storm hadn’t made it to the Castle yet, but everything south and east of that was Eagle Territory. That meant the pegasi couldn’t get in, and that meant clouds roaming freely, straight out of the Everfree Forest.

Rain wasn’t enough to describe it. Hailstones the size of Dash’s head came crashing down. The wind was loud, and strong, and pushing against them, like a drunken sports fan in a kiddie game of hoofball. The thunder was loud enough to shake one’s heart in their chest. Kinda chilly, too.

The Weather Patrol was there, waiting for Dash right at the edge of the storm. Flitter, Raindrops, Thunderlane, Sunny Skies… The whole gang.

“So what’s the situation?” Dash yelled. “Has somepony been able to communicate with the eagles yet?”

“Depends on your definition of ‘communication’!” Raindrops responded, saluting at Dash.

“Literally anything that is not trying to eat your eyeballs!”

“Oh!” Raindrops frowned, and rubbed her chin for a second or two. “Then no, we’ve been completely useless so far!”

“Awesome! At least you’re being honest!”

“Is Fluttershy coming?” Flitter asked. She was flying slightly to the left of Raindrops, and the wind had not been kind to her hairdo. She looked like a chicken fresh from some crazy party at the coop. “She’s the only one who can speak to those things!”

“No, she’s not!” Dash said, and she shook her head to make sure they got the message. “She can’t fly in this weather! Her wingpower isn’t strong enough, she’d get hurt!”

“Oh, come on!” Flitter made a huff. “The one time we need her, and she’s too useless to even fly? She’s a pegasus, for Celestia’s sake!”

“Hey!” Dash pointed a hoof at Flitter, who flinched. “She might have a pathetic wingpower, and she might be entirely useless, but she’s still a valuable member of the Elements of Harmony! And one of my best friends! So don’t you forget that!”

“Uh.” Thunderlane raised a hoof. “How is she a valuable member of your team, if you just admitted she’s useless?”

“Well. I mean.” Dash waved a hoof. “Like, she’s relatively useless. She’s not really there when we’re, I don’t know, fighting monsters—but she’s the, uh.” She cleared her throat. “You know! The kindhearted teammate who knows a lot about animals and always tries her best? Every team needs one of those!”

“Right. But I thought Applejack was the kindhearted teammate who knows a lot about animals and always tries her best?”

“Yeah, but Applejack just committed a murder, so there goes that idea. Anyway!” Dash took a deep breath, and flew closer to the storm front. The others followed. “Where are the eagles?”

“Right in front of you!” Raindrops yelled.

“You mean they’re inside the storm?”

“Yeah! They’re tiny enough to fit between the clouds!”

“Right. Well, Fluttershy couldn’t come, but she tried to teach me how to speak to the eagles instead!” Dash pushed back against the wind. It hurt a little. “We didn’t have time to go through the whole thing, but at least I got the essentials down! Body language and so on!”

This made the rest of the gang open their eyes in surprise, and—maybe—hope. Flitter was the first one to speak. “Do you think you can convince them to stop attacking us?”

Dash thought about this. “Do you want the short answer, or the long answer, Flitter?”

“Short?”

“No!”

“Oh. Well. Long?”

“No, not at all!”

Raindrops hissed through her teeth. “I better start saving up for some eye patches, then.”

“Hey! Nopony will lose any eyes today!” Dash said, patting Raindrops’ shoulder. “I mean. Probably! Not as long as you’re careful! I mean, Pinkie Pie didn’t go blind, did she?”

“Yeah, but she’s Pinkie Pie! Does she even count as a pony at this point?”

“Legally no, but she doesn’t like to talk about it!”

“Well then.” Flitter made a pout, and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “I guess we’ll just have to do whatever we can with whatever we got. Seriously, the one time we need Fluttershy…”

“Oh, come on! Don’t be like that!” Thunderlane smiled at Flitter—it didn’t reach his eyes—and then shrugged. “Sure, it won’t be pretty, but we just have to square up and weather the wea—”

“Thunderlane, I get you have, like, a really low self-esteem, but there’s no reason to do this to yourself.” Then Flitter turned to Dash. “Captain?”

“Flitter.” Dash made a point of not looking in Thunderlane’s direction, though she could still hear the heavy sobbing.

“You’re going to try to speak to the eagles anyway, right? Even if you don’t think you can convince them to stop attacking us?”

Dash didn’t even bother to reply. She just put on her best cocky smile, and everypony understood. Then they pushed on.

“Well, eagles don’t use words,” Fluttershy said. “They’re all about, um, well, they use body language to communicate, really.”

Dash frowned. “Wait, so they don’t talk?”

“Not really.”

“Why on Equestria wouldn’t they talk?”

“Uh.” Fluttershy scratched the back of her head. “They don’t really have lips.”

“Oh.”

“Or a functional throat, really. They just scream.” Fluttershy squinted. “Or go ‘bacaw’ if they’re in the mood, but—you don’t want them in the mood. That’s when they peck at your eyeballs.”

Dash winked at her. “Gotcha. So I just gotta pantomime something, and then they’ll listen to me and go away?”

“They’ll… let’s say they’ll at least understand what you’re saying. That’s a safe bet.” A pause. “Somewhat. They’re not good at recognizing faces, though, so you’ll need something shiny, or they won’t tell you apart from the rest. Do you still have those goggles?”

“Captain!”

Dash blinked. “What?”

“The eagles!” Thunderlane yelled from the vanguard. “They’re here! They—OH CELESTIA MY EYES.”

Thunderlane hadn’t been lying. Less than a second later, thunder roared, and the skies were suddenly full of birds of prey.

Early pegasi blades are said to have been based on an eagle’s talon. Entire schools of flying were based around the idea of imitating the way they move to achieve great speeds—even Dash’s own flying style was named “the Falcon”. Some pegasi, like Fluttershy, had pet eagles—but it was well-known that they only obeyed orders while perched. Once they took off, they listened to no-one.

Dash put on her goggles.

Thunderlane kept screaming.

And Dash raced to greet the biggest eagle she could find.

The clouds were big and scary, the wind was simply too strong in some places, and the hail hurt Dash whenever it hit her, which was way too often. The rest of the Weather Patrol hung back, not because they wanted to, but because they couldn’t follow—they were the best fliers Ponyville could offer, but they weren’t good enough.

And yet, the eagles were not bothered by the weather at all. They looked as majestic as always.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Dash mused, as she finally found the eagle she’d been looking for—a beast of a bird, with a white patch on its chest. That was the thing: eagles were majestic, eagles had majesty.

Because pegasi controlled the sky, but it was eagles that ruled them.

“Hey there!” Rainbow twirled like a drill and managed to squeeze between two stormclouds and meet the Alpha Eagle. [5] It tried to peck at her eyes, but the goggles protected her. “I want to talk!” she yelled, ignoring the attack. And then, remembering Fluttershy’s advice, she pointed at the eagle, then at herself, then crossed her hooves.

[5] Which Rainbow Dash, who had spent way too much time hanging out with Applejack lately, immediately dubbed “Alpheagle” in her head.

The Alpheagle seemed to understand, and it stopped.

Then they locked gazes, still racing through the skies, and this marked the start of their dance. With body language alone, Dash had to articulate rather complex ideas. Authority and power, but not enough to make the Alpheagle feel intimidated. A peace treaty, but not peaceful enough to show weakness.

A petition for the eagles to go away, stern enough not to be ignored, but gentle enough not to be read as an attack.

Truly, this would take time and finesse. Some ponies—mostly Rarity—would have assumed Rainbow Dash was not the right mare for the job, but Twilight’s funeral would be ruined if she failed. She was going to give it her all. If diplomacy was the only way to do this, then she would talk to the Alpheagle and—

Behind her, Twilight’s castle exploded.

Pause.

The Alpheagle looked at Dash, unfazed. To the eagle, this was just another test. A chance for Dash to show how willing she was to palaver with the birds of prey.

Dash looked at the Alpheage, also unfazed. To her, this was a chance to prove herself. A chance to show that she’d matured as a mare, to show that she was fit to talk to the—

“Oh, can it,” she said. Then she punched the bird.

PLOMPF.

“BACAW!”

Right in its stupid bird face.

Then she flew away at top speed, back to the Castle—leaving a screaming Weather Patrol hovering in the air behind her, and a knocked-out Alpheagle plummeting to the ground below.

And, like, hundreds of eagles on the hunt, screaming bloody murder.

It was Fluttershy’s weakness that saved their lives.

Well. That, Rarity’s extravagance when it came to coffins, and also the strange nature of the explosion that shook the Castle.

The thing about eldritch detonations is that it’s not really the shockwave that kills you. Everything else is much, much worse. Corrupted magic? Touch it and you melt. Cosmic radiation? Consider yourself lucky if it just makes you explode. Burning heat? Poisonous. Don’t ask.

So Fluttershy and Rarity, who were right next to Spike’s Corner when it happened, should by all means have died the very moment the place went up in flames. But they didn’t!

Because Twilight’s coffin was also there. That gigantic monstrosity of gold and overblown aesthetics (with a dead alicorn inside) proved itself to be the most valuable tool they could have asked for in this situation.

So the explosion happened, and it wasn’t pleasant—a loud noise, a sudden burst of piercing light [6] and then Fluttershy felt like somepony was tackling her. What followed was the smell of roses, the sound of breaking glass, Rarity hugging her really, really hard, and—

[6] Which due to its otherworldly nature was, at the same time, both extremely bright and dark as pitch, just in case this wasn’t disorienting enough.

“Eeep!”

The ground, approaching her at top speed.

Now, the situation was actually rather confusing—simply put, Fluttershy had no idea what was going on—but the way she saw it, meeting the ground face-first at that velocity was probably not a good thing. It felt rude, somehow, and also chances are it was going to kill her.

So she opened her wings and flapped them as hard as she could.

Later—much later—she would learn what happened. In layman’s terms: while Maniphestopheles’s explosion had been terrible enough to send pretty much the entire Castle flying, Twilight’s coffin had stood between Rarity, Fluttershy, and Spike’s Corner.

That alone had shielded them from the worst things the explosion could throw at them, which had left only the shockwave to take care of. Again, the coffin here did a lot, but not enough, so they were all sent flying through one of the windows and straight out of the building. Like popcorn out of a frying pan.

But of course, at that exact moment, Fluttershy didn’t know any of this. All she knew was that Rarity was hanging from her, the coffin was flying next to them, and Celestia so help me we have to stop oh dear Fluttershy flap your wings flap your wings flap your wings oh my goodness if you don’t make it we’re done for OH MY GOODNESS WE’RE GONNA HIT THE—

“Aaaaand we didn’t make it,” Rarity managed to mutter.

BLAM!

Well, at least they didn’t die. That’s all that mattered.

The ground hit Fluttershy right in the face. Then she tumbled two or three meters like a doll thrown down a hill. Still on her face. Kinda hurt.

Inertia could only carry you so far, though. Eventually, she stopped, dust settling around her. She raised her head and looked around, just to—

BLAM!

“Oh.” Fluttershy blinked, and shook her head. The grogginess went away, and she rubbed her eyes. “Rarity, there you are.”

“SWEET CELESTIA MY BEAUTIFUL FACE.”

“Are you okay?”

“I THINK I BROKE SOMETHING.”

“Yes, but are you okay?”

Rarity took a deep breath—probably to add something insightful to the conversation, Fluttershy mused—but then Twilight’s coffin landed slightly ahead of them.

BLAM!

And the dust that it threw up was enough to make everything blurry again, and both Fluttershy and Rarity devolved into coughing messes.

By the time everything became visible once again, Rarity was already stood up. Shy approached her. “What… What just happened?” she asked.

“Ugggh.” Rarity was rubbing her muzzle. It looked reddened, and slightly swollen. “Ouch. Do you think this is going to leave a mark?”

“Um.” Fluttershy looked. Yes, it was. It definitely was. “I don’t think so. Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better, dear.” Rarity rubbed her muzzle once more, and then coughed. “You?”

“Good. My face hurts a little. What happened?”

“I haven’t got the slightest idea.” Rarity coughed, the dust still settling around them. “I think Spike’s Corner exploded?”

Fluttershy nodded.

“Was it bad?”

“Well…”

They looked at Twilight’s Castle.

It was bad.

The Castle was barely recognizable—where a proud house made of crystal and magic had once stood, there were now mostly ruins and smoking pieces of blackened glass. It looked like an explosion frozen in time, like a modern art exhibition designed by Rainbow Dash.

And in the middle of it, perfectly intact, stood the Map [7]. And right next to it...

[7] Technically right now it was just a table, but Fluttershy always referred to it as “the Map,” because, unlike Applejack, she didn’t want to fight a losing battle.

“Oh, dear,” Rarity said, biting her lip. “Of all the things that could have survived this, Spike’s Corner had to make it.”

“I had no idea funerals could explode.”

“Neither did I, if you want me to be honest, darling.” Rarity frowned. Her horn glowed, and she began fiddled with her mane, fixing the damage her sudden trauma had caused. “If I had suspected it might happen, I wouldn’t have helped Twilight to die.”

“Hmm.” Fluttershy closed her eyes when Rarity started working on her mane next. “This is gonna raise a lot of questions.”

“Oh, of course it will, but nopony can ever hold us accountable for this.” Rarity clicked her tongue as she gave the Castle another look. “You know, I have no idea what happened here? But personally, I blame Applejack. This has her name written all over it, don’t you think?”

“Het-hem,” came a third voice from the left.

And Rarity’s pupils contracted into two little dots.

Explosions, be they eldritch or not, are no laughing matter. Neither is greeting the ground with your face at near-terminal velocity, for that matter. Maybe it’s the pain, maybe it’s the loud noises, maybe it’s the fact that you almost died twice in just a handful of seconds—whatever it is, ponies don’t think straight after those kinds of things happen to them

So one could hardly blame Rarity and Fluttershy for not noticing their surroundings until this very moment.

The explosion at Twilight’s Castle had been severe. It had sent them flying through the window and almost all the way to Sugarcube Corner, where an entire crowd of Royal Guards and nobleponies had barely had time to get out of the way before Fluttershy, Rarity, and Twilight’s coffin had crash-landed like beautiful meteorites.

But now nothing else seemed to be falling from the sky. So the crowd had returned, like vultures come to the dog that stops barking at them in the middle of the desert to take a nap.

And the one het-hemming was…

“Het-hem,” said Mayor Mare, voice as cold as breaking up with your boyfriend on Hearts and Hooves day. “Rarity. I see you’re back in town.”

Rarity didn’t reply. She just stared at Mayor Mare, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“You’re back in town, I might add, just in time to not get me a dress for tomorrow’s celebrations.”

“Uh.” Rarity swallowed. “Um.”

Fluttershy said nothing. She just quietly hid behind the coffin again, and hoped for some kind of miracle.

“But it’s funny.” There was no stopping Mayor Mare. She looked as deadly as a politician could get—she’d taken off her glasses, and was now squinting at Rarity. “Because from here it almost looked like you came from Twilight’s Castle. Almost as if you’d been in town all this time.”

Rarity licked her lips and nodded. “Right. Right, of course. And I see you’re, uh, surrounded by the Royal Guards, and look like you’re not pleased with my services.”

Mayor Mare nodded back. “Hmm-hmm.”

“Did you just say,” one of the Royal Guards voiced, not so much speaking as yelling every single word, “that you helped Princess Twilight die?!”

Rarity blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Are you admitting the fact that you’re an accomplice to her murder?!”

Another pause. Rarity coughed, and looked to the right. “Right. Well, then. Fluttershy?”

Fluttershy popped her head from behind the coffin. “Yes?”

“It seems like I’ll be busy for the next couple of minutes. I have to run from the authorities, you see. From…” she gave everypony a nervous glance. “Why, from all of them at the same time, apparently! Ah, hah, hah… Do you mind taking care of Twilight’s funeral in my place?”

“Uh.” Fluttershy glanced around, too. The Royal Guards looked livid. So did Mayor Mare. “Um. Okay.”

“Oh, thank you so much, darling.” Rarity smiled at her. “Remind me to pay you back one of these days. How does a cup of tea by Sugarcube Corner sound? My treat.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“Perfect. I can’t wait. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to run away screaming, okay?”

Fluttershy nodded. “Okay.”

“Well then. Ahem. AAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“GET HER!” the loud Royal Guards screamed.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“Hey, AJ!” Rainbow Dash said, flying so fast she was more blur than pony. “How’s it going?!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“You okay?! Did that explosion hurt you?!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“I’m taking that as a no!”

She probably shouldn’t have taken that as a no.

Given the logic-defying nature of Maniphestopheles, the explosion had happened in the castle before Spike’s Corner had went up in eldritch flames. Which had been sort-of good news for Applejack, actually.

Good news, because it meant that she really only had to care about the shockwave—the deadly bits would be gone by the time she had been pushed back to the real world. Sort-of, because she had been sent flying anyway.

So at the moment, AJ was soaring through the skies, at a perfect 45º angle that would have made Twilight proud. Inertia was still carrying her, which was pretty neat, but judging by the fact that she was way above the clouds and still climbing, she guessed that the moment gravity caught up with her she would be in a bit of a pickle.

Hence, the screaming.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“Stop screaming!” Rainbow Dash—flying parallel to AJ—grabbed her with one hoof and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “See?! I got you! You’re not going to die now!”

“AAAAAH! ARGH!” AJ immediately hugged Dash as hard as she could with both her hooves, and made a point of not looking down. “OH MY GOSH!”

“Yeah, yeah! Calm down!”

“AH WAS NOT EXPECTIN’ THAT!”

“I can tell!” Dash smirked at her. “You’re kind of freaking out! Take a deep breath?”

“AH’M BREATHIN’! AH’M BREATHIN’ OKAY! NOT DYIN’ ANYMORE!”

“And maybe don’t scream in my ear, too! That would be nice!”

“YES! SORRY! Sorry!” Applejack cleared her throat with a cough. “Whew! Sugarcube, thanks for comin’ back. You saved my life! Did you see that thing?!”

“What, the explosion?” Dash smiled at AJ and kept on flying, as fast as ever, with no clear destination. “Yeah! I figured you were going to sorta plummet to your death otherwise.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“So what happened?”

“Well,” AJ said, frowning. She hugged Dash a little tighter, just in case. The explosion had sent her hat flying far away from her, and she was missing it already. “Ah’m not really sure! There’s an Ancient Demon in Spike’s Corner, and Ah think it got mad at me ‘cause Ah murdered Twilight!”

“Wha—what? An Ancient Demon?” Dash arched an eyebrow. “Why is there an Ancient Demon in the Castle? Who brought it?”

“Spike, apparently!”

“And why on Equestria would Spike bring a demon here today of all days?!”

“Ah have no idea,” AJ said, shrugging. “But if you ask me, this is all Rarity’s fault. It’s got her name written all over it! So you just came back to save me?”

“Yeah!” Dash changed direction all of a sudden—flying midwest. They were pretty far away from Ponyville now, flying over the other side of the Everfree. “I saw the Castle exploding, and I saw how you were sent flying, so I came as fast as I could. Rarity and Fluttershy were also there, but I saw Shy take care of it. Kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“I think Rarity broke her face.”

Applejack wrinkled her muzzle. “Ouch, dang. Really? That’s a real tragedy right there.” Pause. “Don’t tell her Ah said that.”

“Nah, nah, she’s pretty, I’m with you.”

“What ‘bout Pinkie Pie?”

“Well.” Dash made a face. “I didn’t see her amidst the explosion, to be honest, so she probably jumped off in time to avoid it.”

“Oh. Well, Ah’m glad to hear that.”

Minutes passed. Dash kept flying, slightly faster now. Applejack just kept hugging her, trying her best not to enjoy the view.

Eventually, though, she broke the silence. “So. Dash?”

“Yes?”

“Why are we still flyin’?”

“That one’s easy.” Dash nodded to the side. “Look over my shoulder there for a second.”

Applejack did. “Oh, hey. Lotta eagles chasin’ us right there,” she muttered.

“Yyyyep.”

“Why are there a lotta eagles chasin’ us right there?”

“I saw the explosion, panicked, and punched their leader.” Dash showed her a grin. “Didn’t work. So I think they’re looking forward to eating me alive now?”

“Ah see. Funny, that.”

“Yeah.”

AJ gave her a maternal squeeze. “And Ah don’t suppose you can keep this speed up for much longer.”

“Hmmm.” Dash flapped her wings slightly faster. It hurt, so she slowed down. “Not really. I’d say we have around five minutes or so, and then they’ll probably catch us.”

“And then it’s certain death?”

“Yeah, certain death sounds about right. I mean, I could throw these goggles away so they can’t tell it’s me?” Dash pointed at the goggles hanging from her neck. “But then they’d just get confused and attack whoever’s in sight, and we’re right next to Ponyville. So, yeah.”

“Hmm-hmm.”

They kept flying in silence for the next thirty seconds or so.

“Say, Dash?”

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t really think this whole rescuin’ thing through, did you.”

“I really did not.”

Pinkie Pie was having the time of her life.

“Ahah! Ahahahahahah! Yippeeeeee!”

She was also totally going to die.

“Weeeeeeeeeeeee!”

The eldritch detonation that had destroyed Twilight's Castle had sent AJ flying on a perfect 45º angle—but that’s because Applejack had been inside Spike’s Corner. Pinkie Pie had been on the roof, and as it is, she had just happened to be standing right on top of the explosion’s very center.

So Pinkie Pie wasn’t sent on an angle. Pinkie Pie was sent flying in a perfectly vertical line, not even a degree off the center, and the only reason why she didn’t immediately die was because all that Castle between her and the explosion had acted as a makeshift shield of sorts.

Which was super neat! It meant that the view was incredible, and no matter how much time she spent in midair, she remained within Ponyville’s borders. No way was she getting lost once she landed!

But it also meant that she was sent way, waaaaay higher than she’d ever been before. And she was still climbing! The shockwave had apparently been less of an explosion and more of an eruption, because boy, this was a doozy!

So, yeah. She was totally going to die once she came back down.

On the other hoof, though, seeing how fast she was going, it was going to take her a while to fall down. And in the meantime, hey, this was pretty fun!

“Yaaaaaaaaaaay! Hahah! The clouds look so small from up here! I wonder if my funeral will be this fun, too. Yahooooo!”

“Hey, Fluttershy!” Dash whispered as she took a seat right next to Shy. “I finally found you. Did you make it out the explosion okay?”

“Yeah,” Fluttershy whispered back, smiling at her. “Did you manage to speak with the eagles?”

“Eh, kinda.”

It was ten minutes after the explosion, and the wake was finally taking place.

Seeing how the entirety of Ponyville’s southeastern side was going through the storm of the century, having the ceremony there was only an option if you were comfortable with the idea of hailstones clobbering you to death. Knowing this—and not feeling particularly suicidal that day—Mayor Mare had instead opted for having the whole thing right by the ruins of Twilight’s Castle.

It was a perfect solution, really. For starters, the place held a lot of significance, and it was symbolic in a way that completely missed the point; the mark, in Mayor Mare’s opinion, of a true official event. Plus, the coffin was already there. Talk about efficiency.

So Mayor Mare had gotten a bunch of foldable chairs and set them up in neat rows. The street was bursting with nobleponies—the créme de la créme of Canterlot, every single pony with a name worth its salt [8]—and soon enough everypony had a seat. A clear path was left in the very center, at the end of which lay the coffin.

[8] It rounded up to around three hundred ponies and seven brain cells.

Next thing everyone knew, Mayor Mare had built an impromptu podium out of boxes, and asking everypony to be quiet, please, we’re starting, and then bam! On with the speech she’d prepared.

And what a speech it was!

“She was a joyful child, oh yes, Twilight Sparkle,” Mayor Mare was saying with a perfectly monotone voice that could have made a lively child fall into depression. “I noticed this the very moment I laid my eyes on her. Ponyville—at least under my rule as a Mayor, don’t forget to vote for me in the upcoming elections this spring—has always celebrated the ideals of generosity, friendship, and loyalty to your politicians of choice...”

“Um, yeah,” Fluttershy said, once Rainbow Dash settled down in her seat. “Mayor Mare has been speaking for a while now. It’s actually pretty nice. I think she’s enjoying it.”

Dash’s eye twitched. She looked around—everypony was completely silent, seemingly paying total attention to the speech. She squinted. “For a while, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“How long is that, exactly?”

Fluttershy gave this a little bit of thought. “Well,” she said. “Almost as soon as Rarity left, actually. So around… forty-five minutes?”

“And she’s still on the first day.”

Fluttershy’s ears perked up, and she paid attention to Mayor Mare’s droning once more.

“…And yes, I knew, from the very moment I laid my eyes on her, that Twilight Sparkle would be an exceptional pony. Later on she would fight Nightmare Moon and save us all—but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Thirty-five seconds after her first steps in town…”

“Yeah,” Fluttershy said. “This is not going to be over soon.”

“Oh, Celestia. I should have stayed with the eagles. Wait, is that Fancy Pants? With a Wonderbolt? Oh my gosh, Rarity needs to hear about this.”

Dash and Fluttershy were sitting almost at the very last row—which meant they could listen to Mayor Mare, if they really wanted to, but seeing the coffin was pretty much impossible with so many heads on the way. Which meant a lot of privacy, but also nothing to look at to pass the time.

So Rainbow Dash just slouched in her seat, and idly wondered if it was possible to take a nap right there without snoring too much. Then a thought came to her. “Hey,” she whispered to Fluttershy, who was still looking at Mayor Mare with a pensive face. “Shy?”

“Yeah?”

“You said Rarity left?”

“Hmmm.” Fluttershy made a so-so gesture. “Kind of. The explosion messed up our plans a little bit, and she said she was busy.”

Dash blinked. “Busy?”

“Busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“MA’AM, EVERY MINUTE YOU KEEP RUNNING FROM US ONLY MAKES EVERYTHING WORSE FOR YOU!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“Busy,” Fluttershy repeated.

Dash’s eyes widened, and her ears twitched. “Ooooh. Yeah, okay, gotcha. So, sorta like Applejack, then?”

Now it was Fluttershy’s turn to blink in surprise. She gave Dash a look. “Applejack?”

“Yeah. Remember how the eagle thing didn’t work out?”

Fluttershy gave a weary nod.

“Well, I couldn’t outrun them while carrying AJ, and I wanted to check on you and Rarity.” Dash waved a hoof. “‘Cause the castle exploded and all that, right. So we reached a compromise.”

“A compromise?” Fluttershy cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I gave her the goggles.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“BACAW! BACAW!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“Yeah, she’s going to be busy for a while.” Dash leaned back even harder, and rested her back hooves on the chair in front of her. There was a noblepony sitting there, but Dash didn’t mind it—she was generous enough to share. “But hey, she’s a farmer. She can probably take care of a few birds, right?”

“Dash, she’s an apple farmer. I don’t think she can tell an eagle from a parakeet.”

“Well, sucks to be her, then.”

Fluttershy was going to reply to this—she had already taken a deep breath to compose her comment, even—but then she thought better of it. Dash was looking half-asleep already, and Mayor Mare’s monotone speech was strangely relaxing, as long as you didn’t pay any actual attention.

To be honest, the idea of sitting there in silence for the remainder of the funeral was quite alluring. Fluttershy liked some peace and quiet, and you had to hand it to boring formal events—it made life so, so much easier when you had social anxiety. Dash was going to doze off in a moment, and then it would just be a matter of waiting it out and going home after the wake.

But just because an idea sounded good didn’t mean that it was the right thing to do.

So Fluttershy squared her shoulders and gave Dash a poke. “Rainbow?” she asked, her voice still soft, but firmer now. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm?”

Shy took that as a ‘yes’. “Do you mind explaining why Twilight needed to die?”

Rarity had a really strict policy when it came to running—she avoided it at all costs, and in exchange, the world slowed down to match her pace. Running was for barbarians and ponies without class. At their best, ladies walked with a swing of their hip, and at their worst, they trotted. [9]

[9] But only after the wedding.

But of course, you couldn’t really be as heartbreakingly beautiful as Rarity was without being a bit of a hypocrite. So, class and all, she’d been running for the last forty-five minutes without a pause.

“YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE FROM JUSTICE!”

And the Royal Guards were still not giving up.

Now, there are two main sides to running. You might run towards somewhere, and you might also run from something. Rarity had started this horrible race with a vague direction in mind, because she was not that stupid… But then again, that had been forty-five minutes ago. Forty-five minutes she’d spent running without pause.

Rarity didn’t have the foggiest idea where she was.

Ponyville? Probably? Gosh, she hoped so, this didn’t look like Manehattan at all. Ponies and houses dashed past her in a blur, Royal Guard hot on her tail and oh sweet Celestia have mercy it’s been forty five minutes AND THEY’RE STILL—

Plaf!

“Ah!”

It wasn’t as hard as it could have been. Rarity had just survived an entire eldritch explosion—crashing into a pony wasn’t exactly going to feel painful after that. Nevertheless, she tripped, and was almost sent sprawling to the ground.

Almost. The mare she’d crashed into was quick on her hooves, and grabbed Rarity before she could make a fool of herself. Rarity would have thanked her—what’s a lady without her manners?—but she was too busy catching her breath.

Big mistake.

“AH-HAH! WE GOT HER!” yelled a voice behind them, and Rarity turned with a gasp—still held in the arms of her savior—to see the entirety of the Royal Guard looking back at her with murderous eyes.

A lot of murderous eyes.

And, hey, were those spears? They really did look like sp—

“Oh, dear,” Rarity wheezed, as her ears went flat against her head. She turned back to look at her savior, praying for some kind of miracle. “Oh, you have to save me!” she said, putting on her best damsel-in-distress expression, the kind that goes on the cover of an R-rated book. “I’ve been wrongly accused of a crime I didn’t commit! Saaave me! Saaa-aaa-aaaave meee—”

“Why. ‘Ello, Rarity. Fancy meetin’ cha again, ain’t it.”

The words died in Rarity’s mouth, and suddenly she forgot everything about the Royal Guard. Her throat became really, really dry.

It was something about the eyes, really. There was a glint of something in there, something that scared the beating heart out of anypony who dared to look into them. Or maybe it was her accent…?

Rarity swallowed.

“Well,” she said. “Hello, Roseluck.”

Maniphestopheles wasn’t surprised, per se, but one could very well say he was slightly baffled when he felt another pony entering Spike’s Corner so soon after his explosion.

There were two reasons why this was the case. The first one was the pony’s aura—it was unmistakably that of an equine, for sure, but it didn’t feel quite right. It was greater, somehow. It was almost scary.

The second one was more geometrical than anything: the pony hadn’t walked into Spike’s. It had fallen into it. At quite the speed, too. If they had crashed into the ground, they would have surely died—but Spike’s Corner was an endless void where gravity did not apply, so, weirdly enough, the pony’s life had been saved because they had fallenl into the Ancient Demon’s realm.

Which was, well, not how things usually went. So Maniphestopheles, feeling a bit insecure, spoke slightly louder than necessary. “WHO DARES ENTER MY REALM?!” he said.

And a small, soft, sweet voice replied. It said four words, four simple words, but they managed to give Maniphestopheles, the Memogorgon, the King in Red Tape, the shivers.

“Hi!” the voice said. “I’m Pinkie Pie!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“BACAW! BACAW! BACAW! BACAW!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Applejack punched one of the eagles out of the air.

There were still, like, seven hundred more of ‘em.

“BACAWBACAWBACAWBACAWBACAWBA—”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“Why did Twilight need to die?”

Rainbow Dash straightened her back, and shot Shy a cocky smirk. “I thought you’d never ask!” she said, patting her shoulder. “What took you so long?”

“Uh, I was trying to learn a lesson by myself. I think.”

“Bof. Bad idea, never works.” Dash shook her head. “Anyway, yeah, it’s because she’s an alicorn now. Princess Celestia ascended her, but I think Twilight isn’t exactly sure if she wanted that yet. Or if anypony knows what being an alicorn even means, really.”

And that’s it. That’s all it took.

Sometimes you hear something that makes you feel like your stomach is dropping out from under you and melting. Something so obvious, so final, so unavoidable, that there’s no way around it. And then you get it, and life is never the same afterwards.

And usually Fluttershy only felt like this whenever her brother talked about his love life. But this time, Zephyr Breeze was not around, and so the feeling felt more real than ever.

So she nodded, and stared at the ground. “I see,” she said.

“I mean,” Dash continued, not looking at Fluttershy. “We don’t really know if she’s immortal, but she might be, right? So it’s not like she’s going to get an actual funeral if that happens. Applejack told me chances are she wanted to give us a chance to say goodbye, and…” The words trailed off.

Fluttershy didn’t notice—she was still looking down—but she did feel it when Dash grabbed her shoulder. “Hm?”

Rainbow had looked at her, and had now a worried expression on her face. “Shy? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I… It’s just…”

“Because you’re making that face you make when Zephyr starts talking about his love life.”

Fluttershy nodded, her face clouding over as the thought of her brother returned—but she shook it again until the sunshine came back. “I’m okay,” she said, forcing a smile. “It’s just… I think I understood it.”

“Well, sure. I just explained it.”

“No. Um, I think there’s more to it.” Fluttershy was fidgeting in her chair, now. She risked another look at Twilight’s coffin, aware now of what it meant, and not quite pleased with it. “I think Applejack was right, but… I talked with Spike earlier, before his Corner grew and swallowed him, and—”

“And so!”

The sudden change in Mayor Mare’s voice made both Fluttershy and Dash flinch. Mayor Mare had gone from absolute monotone to something that sounded like an excited squeal, more fit for a child than an adult politician.

“We bid adieu,” Mayor Mare continued, smiling brightly at the crowd, “to Princess Twilight Sparkle!”

“That’s wrong,” Fluttershy whispered.

“Yeah, kinda creepy that she’s this happy.”

“I don’t mean that.”

“Pride of Ponyville!” Mayor Mare said. “Hero of Equestria! But, more important than anything else, Beloved Friend!” Then she lowered her head, and pressed a hoof against her chest. “May she rest in peace.”

And the crowd muttered in response: “May she rest in peace.”

“May she rest in peace,” said Dash, slightly out of sync, and then she arched an eyebrow. “Not like I’m complaining—but wasn’t this a little too fast? It takes her ten minutes to explain three seconds of Twilight’s life, and it’s over already?”

Fluttershy bit her lip, looked at Mayor Mare, and then at Dash. “Well,” she said. “Maybe—”

“Then again, I guess Twilight and Mayor Mare never really hung out together. So it makes sense that she made the speech. If I had to explain every moment we were together, it would take me a lifetime.”

“I don’t think that’s how speeches—”

“Oh, hey.” Dash poked Fluttershy in the side to shut her up [10]. “Shy, get up. We’re supposed to go and check on Twilight now.”

[10] Entirely unnecessary. You could shut Fluttershy up by aggressively blinking in her direction. Dash just liked poking Fluttershy, because she was soft, squishy, and squeaked like a chew toy.

Fluttershy snapped out of it just in time to get up from the chair at the same time as Dash. “What?” she asked.

Rainbow hadn’t lied. Everypony was getting up and shuffling in the golden coffin’s direction—they were at the end of the wake, after all.

“Ugh,” Dash said, making a face. They were at the end of the line. “This is going to take forever. You were saying?”

“Oh. Uh.” Fluttershy shuffled next to Dash and got in line behind two nobleponies. “I was saying that I don’t think that’s how speeches work. Also—”

“And now!”

Again with the sudden happy squeal, and Dash and Fluttershy flinched once more. The nobleponies in front of them also reacted to Mayor Mare’s vocal outburst, though their gasp sounded far more sophisticated.

“In honor of Princess Twilight Sparkle,” Mayor Mare continued, “the Treble Makers will sing a song for her, so we remember her the way she would have wanted us to. Thank you very much.”

Then she stepped down from the stage, and the crowd muttered something unintelligible to wave her off.

Dash raised her eyebrows at Fluttershy. Four stallions, each one slightly shorter than the next, were at the stage. “Hey, isn’t that the band you got because of the eagles? I mean, I guess they look the part, but I don’t know if a capella is… A good…” Pause. Blink. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Is that a bagpipe they’re carrying?”

Fluttershy opened her mouth, ready to answer...

…but then the Treble Makers started singing.

OOOOOOOOOOH—

This is the happy sunshine polka,

we’re just so happy we’re not dead!

There ain’t no fire if there’s no smoke-a

If life brings you trouble, look ahead!

Da-di-da-di, da-di-da-di-da-da,

da-di-da-di, da-di-da-da-da!

OOOOOOOOOOH—

The song had a melody chipper enough to be annoying, and a rhythm catchy enough to be obnoxious. It was the musical equivalent of brain freeze—but not the kind you get from eating too much ice cream. It was the kind you get from getting your teeth knocked out against a pile of dirty snow.

And the Treble Makers were giving it their all. They were seemingly working under the impression that passion was what really mattered in the world of music, and so, they had never distracted themselves with minor things such as rhythm, tone, tune, or harmonics.

In a world like Equestria, where cosmology and faith were confusing at best and nonexistent at worst [11], this was truly a religious experience.

[11] You try living under an immortal ruler who switches between being all-powerful and completely useless seemingly at random, and see what kind of theology you can come up with.

And the song went on, and on, and on, and on, with no end in sight.

This is the happy sunshine polka,

we’re just so happy we’re not dead!

This is the happy sunshine polka,

Fate might have scissors, but life is not a thread!

“Fluttershy?”

“Yes?”

“The eagles were definitely the lesser of two evils in this situation.”

“I agree.”

The coffin was golden, complex, and wonderful. Now that Fluttershy wasn’t carrying it, or using it as a shield, she let herself admire it for what felt like the first time.

She didn’t like it, not one bit.

It was beautiful, sure, but it was maybe too beautiful. Something more sober, more ordinary, would have fit the situation better. As it was, the golden coffin was suited for a princess… and that missed the point entirely. Twilight Sparkle would’ve been buried in a box of dark wood, surrounded by just her closest family and friends. This was wrong.

The words burned in her throat, so she said them. “This is wr—”

“Oooooooh—this is the happy sunshine polka! BAGPIPE SOLO!”

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

“…Okay, as a member of an a capella group myself, this is just insulting.”

“I’m going to punch that guy at some point,” Dash muttered, glaring daggers towards the stage. “I’m going to walk up there, grab the bagpipe, and hit him with it.”

“That wouldn’t be nice.”

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

“…But you know what? I’m not going to stop you if you do.”

“And this is just stupid,” Dash continued, kicking the coffin. “I can’t say goodbye to Twilight if I can’t see her. Why didn’t they open this?”

“Um. I think it’s a sign of respect.” Fluttershy took a step back from Dash after seeing the kick, her face the picture of mild disapproval. “And also, it’s really heavy.”

“Dumb.” Dash stood on her hind legs and pressed her front hooves against the side of the box. “Help me open it!”

“No, you don’t get it. It’s really heavy.”

“Whatever! I can’t say bye to Twilight like this. We’re her friends!” Then he pushed, and her face got all red. “HNNNNNG. Oh, wow, you weren’t kidding. HNNNNNNG.”

“Um.” Fluttershy took another step away from Dash, her heart beating like crazy. “Uh, I don’t think—that is not how—”

“HNNNNNNNNG we’re the last ones in line nopony’s waiting we can take our time come on it’ll be better than this HNNNNNNNNG.”

“No, uh, that’s not—”

“HNNNNNNNNNG.”

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

“Oh, dear.”

The lid moved, just enough to show Twilight’s face.

Fluttershy looked at her.

It struck her like lightning.

There is something indescribable about seeing the face of a dead friend. It’s not easy, for mortal ponies, to understand what happens when somepony is truly gone, when you can’t see them, ever again. Sometimes all you need, however, is to face them one last time.

That’s what happened to Fluttershy now. It was like a hammer to the face, a punch in the gut—Twilight was dead. It was the realization of the fact that she was simply never going to hang out with Twilight Sparkle again. Those days were only a memory now, something she could look back at and reminisce about… but that was it. Nothing new was ever going to come out of that. It had ended.

“Wow,” Dash said by her side, and her voice sounded a little bit like she was choking. Fluttershy looked at her—Rainbow didn’t look good. “This is…”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, maybe I’m getting a little too into this whole charade thing? I know she’s okay, it’s just that…”

“No, no. I’m the same right now.” Fluttershy smiled at Dash, stepped closer to her, hugged her by the shoulders a little. “This is not easy.”

“No.” Rainbow Dash swallowed. “Okay. Goodbye, Twilight. You were really cool.”

Fluttershy’s cheeks burned, so maybe she was crying. A little. “Goodbye,” she said.

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

“Celestia on a—I’m going to set that guy on fire.”

Fluttershy giggled, and wiped away the tears. “Close the coffin first,” she said.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Dash shook her head, glared at the bagpipe pony one last time, and then grabbed the lid. “Let me just—HNNNNNNNNNG. HNNNNNNN—”

Ploc.

Pause.

“Um.” Fluttershy frowned. “Dash? Did the coffin make that noise?”

“...So it seems!” Dash threw her a sheepish smile. “I’m just going to—”

Ploc.

Another pause.

“Okay! Okay. Okay, I can do this.”

“Dash.”

“Nothing is wrong here.”

“Dash.”

“Look.” Dash squinted at the coffin. “So the lid is a little stuck. Nothing I can’t take care of. I just gotta push a little harder, like HNNNNNNNNNNG this, and then I’ll HNNNNNNNNNG.”

Ploc.

“Dash.” Fluttershy looked at the coffin. It was very much still open. “Dash, you’re not closing the lid. I don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re not closing it.”

“HNNNNNNNNNNNG.”

“Um. Maybe there’s something inside that doesn’t fit? And it’s blocking the lid?” Fluttershy got behind Rainbow, crouched down, and took a peek inside the coffin again. “I think that—oh my gosh!”

“HNNNNNNNNNNNG.”

“Dash oh my gosh Dash stop IT’S HER HORN YOU’RE PRESSING THE LID AGAINST HER HORN!”

“HNNNNNNNNNNNG—WHAT.”

“TWILIGHT HORN IS POKING OUT OF THE COFFIN THE LID IS STUCK AGAINST IT THAT’S WHY IT’S NOT CLOSING STOP PRESSING OR—”

Crack.

The coffin closed.

The heaviest of silences followed. Fluttershy stared. Dash blinked, and looked at the coffin. Then, slowly, veeery slowly, she got back on all fours and stepped out of it.

Then she coughed. “So. Crazy weather, huh?!”

“Dash.”

“Really fit for the day, if I say so!”

“Dash I don’t think we can smalltalk our way out of this.”

“Yep, real crazy day! Lot of stuff happening, none of it my fault!”

“We clearly heard something crack in there and it wasn’t the coffin.”

“I mean, hey!” Dash was pretty much looking everywhere but Fluttershy. “First Twilight fakes her death, then her Castle explodes—really, I guess it’s just a string of bad luck, better not to blame anypony for anything that might have—!”

“Ex-cuse me?!” came a third voice from behind them.

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

And suddenly, Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash noticed something they’d quite forgotten about:

They were not alone at the wake.

Nobleponies as far as the eye can see, but now they weren’t idly chatting amongst themselvesone another in groups of four—they were all huddled together, one single mass of fancy ponies, all staring at the same time. Mayor Mare was among them.

Nopony looked particularly happy. In fact, they looked mighty angry, in a way that made Fluttershy just a little bit uncomfortable.

“Did you just say,” the one noblepony at the front—a pink mare, with eyes that could set fire to an orphanage—said, “that Princess Twilight Sparkle faked her death?”

Fluttershy’s heart dropped.

Dash’s eyes went wide.

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

“Whoops,” Dash eventually said. “Um. I mean, it’s not—”

“Because I’ll let you know, young filly,” the noblemare continued, poison in her words, “that I am a very busy pony! I do not have the time to waste my entire evening rotting away in this little town of yours, if Princess Twilight hasn’t vanished from this world!”

“Yeah, look, this is not—”

“What kind of mockery is this?” The noblemare scoffed. “We were promised the funeral of a princess! A social event the likes of which Equestria has never seen! I threw away my entire schedule to attend this, and now you’re telling me it was all for nothing?!”

More voices joined from the crowd.

“I had other places to mingle!”

“The trip from Canterlot was mildly inconvenient!”

“Are you telling me we can’t be smug about attending anymore? I already alienated my closest acquaintances!”

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

“I did not sit through this farce just to entertain some kind of overblown gothic fantasy!” the noblemare at the front yelled. “I demand to speak with the Princess in person! I deserve an explanation!”

“Yeah!”

“Let us see the Princess!”

“Let’s open the coffin!”

“Let’s!”

“Whoa, whoa, wait, what?” Dash sprung into action—she got between the noblemare and the coffin with a single jump, and held her hooves up. “No, no, stop right there, that’s a really bad idea!”

“Out of my way!” The noblemare shoved Dash to the side and went straight towards the coffin, the crowd moving behind her as on cue. It was less of a race, and more of a stampede. “Princess! Open up!

“Open up!” came the voices from the crowd.

“Yeah open up!”

“We demand your time!”

“And your attention!”

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

“Argh!” Dash tried to fly towards the coffin, but the nobleponies had swarmed it—they were climbing on top of it, slamming their hooves against it, yelling. “No, stop! Don’t do that! Shy!”

“This is not how this is supposed to go,” Fluttershy whispered, trembling in horror. “This is terrible.”

“Open up, Princess!”

“Get out!”

“Get out and admit you’re alive!”

“Stop wasting our time!”

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

“Stop,” Fluttershy said. “Stop!”

“Get out!”

“You’re not dead!”

“You were never dead!”

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

Mayhem. Pure mayhem. The funeral was in shambles, Mayor Mare was screaming somewhere in the background, the nobleponies were smashing the coffin.

The coffin was trembling, as if somepony inside had given up and was trying to open it.

And that’s what did it.

“STOP!”

Everypony stopped.

There are screams, and then there are screams. Folksy wisdom talks about the fury of a good mare, and how it’s to be feared—but that pales in comparison to the screams of a quiet pony.

Fluttershy was both of those things.

It was a surprise to nopony when the nobleponies backed off, ever so slightly.

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

“She… Princess Twilight is not dead,” Fluttershy said, flying high enough for everypony to see her. She was looking at the coffin. “That’s true. But that doesn’t mean this funeral is fake, because… Because it’s not for Princess Twilight. It’s just for Twilight Sparkle.”

Seeing how the crowd was still silent and listening, Fluttershy risked a landing—right in front of Twilight’s golden casket.

“Shy?” Dash asked from behind her.

“Hmm.” Fluttershy looked at her, and smiled. Then she faced the crowd once more. “It’s okay,” she said. “I understand why you’re angry. I didn’t understand it at first, either. But I talked to Rarity, and to Spike, and…” She took a deep breath. “Death doesn’t matter to those who die. It’s only important to the ones who are left behind.

“And Princess Twilight is still alive, but Twilight Sparkle died the day Princess Celestia turned her into an alicorn. Because… Because she’s not the same pony.” Fluttershy swallowed. “She has a new body, and, and new powers, and new responsibilities, and… A new life. Her old life went away. She died.”

Some whispers from the other end of the crowd, but so far, still relative silence.

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

So Fluttershy took it as a good sign, and kept talking.

“Um, I don’t think Princess Celestia did a bad thing. And I’m happy for Twilight! But the old days, when Twilight was just Twilight, a simple librarian, and we could hang out and live normally… Those days are gone. They’re only memories.” She looked at the coffin, something heavy in her throat. “And they are never coming back.”

“Hmm.” The noblemare talked, and everypony around her flinched. Her voice sounded so much rougher, now, in contrast with Fluttershy’s. “And why, exactly, does that matter at all?”

“Well, um. Because.” Fluttershy took another deep breath, and she met the noblemare’s eyes. Her own gaze was twice as hard. “Because this is not for us. Or you. Or anypony here.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Fluttershy pointed at the coffin. “It’s for her. Funerals are for the ones who need to live on. They’re a way to say goodbye. And I think the one who needs to say goodbye to Twilight Sparkle the most… I think that’s Princess Twilight. So, please, don’t force her to get out yet. She’s mourning. And I think she needs it.”

And after saying this, Fluttershy closed her mouth and looked down, not quite sure what to do next. But she knew this hadn’t been a mistake, not at all.

Because even though she couldn’t see it, she could feel it. Behind her, inside the coffin, Twilight was smiling at her.

And that’s all that mattered.

“Well. That was, without any doubt, the single most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard,” the noblemare said.

…Or not.

No, definitely not. The crowd looked quite angry again. Fluttershy blinked. “Uh. I mean—”

“I mean, great speech, really emotional, but we stillll wasted our time to attend the funeral of somepony who’s clearly still alive!”

“Yeah!”

“Exactly!”

“This has been stupid and we all hate you!”

“And I don’t know what you’re on about, but that is not how funerals work, young lady,” the noblemare said, sneering. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I think we were about to riot, so—”

“Y’know what?” came a voice from the side, an entirely new voice. “Y’all might be right! Fluttershy there knows nothin’ bout death, if Ah say so!”

They all turned around.

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

Applejack was standing there, ragged hat on her head, broken goggles hanging from her neck. Her mane was disheveled and full of leaves. Her fur was dirty, and there were cuts all over her.

And she was smiling the happiest of smiles.

“But y’know what else?” she continued, looking at the noblemare—and every single noblepony still crawling over Twilight’s coffin. “Ah sure do know everythin’ when it comes to funerals. Ah’m an expert on the subject. And what’s the very first thing you gotta learn ‘bout death?”

Then Applejack pointed up, the nobleponies looked…

And their eyes went wide with horror.

“It comes from above,” AJ said.

“BACAW!”

Everything went really quiet, really fast.

Hundreds of eagles, flying in circles, all of them looking at the noblemare with eyes as sharp as needles. Their beaks looked strong as steel. Their talons glinted like razor wire.

And the moment Applejack gave a high-pitched whistle, they all came down, landing on the buildings and trees nearby, eyes open and unblinking.

“So,” AJ said, as she made her way to Fluttershy and Dash. The crowd parted to give her a way without protest. “Maybe you shouldn’t yell at my friend like that, ma’am.”

The noblemare backed up, very slowly.

“You tamed the eagles?” Fluttershy asked, looking at Applejack with newfound respect. “How did you do that?”

“Ah dunno. Ah just punched ‘em till they listened to me.”

“Uh.” Dash frowned. “I tried that. The moment I punched one, the rest came after me, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“So?”

“So Ah punched every single one of ‘em.” AJ squinted. “It wasn’t easy.”

Dash frowned. “There are over seven hundred eagles up there.”

“It wasn’t easy.”

“Hmmm. So you’re not the only one with an army, now?” Rarity asked, fluttering her eyelashes at Applejack. “I say, that is quite impressive, dear! We make a perfect team, don’t we?”

Pause.

Everypony looked at Rarity, who was standing right next to Fluttershy at the moment.

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

Plaf!

“Ooof!”

And Dash shook her hoof to cool it off and flew back to Flutterhsy’s hide. “Told ya I wasn’t kidding.”

“Thanks. It was giving me a headache.”

“Now, Rarity?” Dash looked at her friend, gave her a bit of the stinky eye. “Where exactly did you come from, again?”

“Oh, I was always here, dear.” Rarity smiled, and nodded towards the crowd. “I blend in seamlessly among the nobles, don’t you think? Oh, I was born to be a Canterlot mare, if I say so.”

“So you were here the whole time.”

“Indeed!”

Dash nodded. “And the idea of helping us never really crossed your mind, or…?”

“Oh, no, no, no, dear. Of course it did!” Rarity giggled, then hugged Dash by the shoulders. “But I was, ah, waiting for the perfect moment, you see? For dramatic effect.”

“You know they were walking over me, right?”

“You do things to unnerve me, I do things to unnerve you. Let’s call it even.”

“Ah’m sorry.” Applejack frowned. “Ah get not helpin’ Dash, but—did you say you had an army, too?”

“Right, of course. Where are my manners?” And, with the smuggest grin a lady could give, Rarity raised her hooves and clapped twice. “Soldiers, please?”

“YES, MA’AM!”

The eagles had been bad, but Rarity’s reinforcements didn’t just make the nobleponies stop and stare—it made them run away in terror.

The entirety of the Royal Army poured in towards the coffin, coming from every possible direction.

And every single one of them was carrying a huge bouquet of roses.

“Attention, darlings!” Rarity yelled, somehow making it sound ladylike. “This is a formal event, after all!”

“YES, MA’AM!”

“Well.” Fluttershy blinked. “Um. That’s new.”

“That’s awesome!” said Dash. “Oh my gosh! You have an army now?”

“A lady has to be resourceful to survive in this world, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity said, winking at her. Then she fixed her mane, and looked at the soldiers, standing guard by the sidelines. “I encountered my worst fears while running away, you see? I faced them.” There was a glint in her eye. “And I won.”

Pause.

“You bought all those roses so Roseluck would tame ‘em for ya, didn’t you,” Applejack said.

“She got them wrapped around her hoof with, like, one word. I think it’s her accent? I don’t know. But I have an army now!” Rarity said, making a broad gesture. “And they’re all fabulous, aren’t they?”

“YES, MA’AM!”

“Well.” Fluttershy smiled shyly. “So now we just need to find Pinkie Pie, and—”

“I’m here!” Pinkie yelled from a distance. “And Spike is with me!”

And for the—hopefully—last time, they all turned around to look at Pinkie, who was carrying an unconscious Spike on her back.

Pinkie Pie, who was walking out of the ruins of Twilight’s Castle.

“Hi, girls!” she said. Her left eye was completely black, no iris or pupil in sight, but she looked as cheery as always. “Did I miss something?”

“AJ and Rarity are cool now,” Dash said. “And I punched a dude.”

“Why?”

“He was playing the bagpipes.”

“Haha. Cool! I think?”

“You rescued Spike!” Rarity said, smiling at Pinkie. “Oh, thank you very much, Pinkie, dear. Is he okay?”

“Yep! He’s just a little sleepy.” Pinkie wiggled her butt, and Spike groaned. “See? I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“So wait, you were in Spike’s Corner?” AJ asked. “What did you do with that demon thing? Did you sneak past him?”

“Nu-uh! I just talked to him!” Pinkie said with a giggle. “Now he’s my friend! And my liege. I COMMAND THE LEGIONS OF HELL.”

Pause.

Fluttershy squinted. “…What was that?”

“I’ve no idea! But I can’t wait to find out,” Pinkie chirped. “It’s probably really dangerous!”

“Right,” Applejack said, tipping her hat at Pinkie. “Well, then.” She turned towards the noblemare. “Ma’am, we’ve got an army of eagles, an army of soldiers, and… What was it again, Pinkie?”

“THE LEGIONS OF HELL.”

“Right. Whatever that is. So.” AJ arched an eyebrow. Behind her, every single one of her friends stared at the noblemare. Around them, the eagles and the soldiers stood to attention. “Y’all were sayin’ you had issues with the funeral?”

The ceremony went on without any further incident.

They buried Twilight at Sweet Apple Acres.

The hole Dash had dug was big enough, and simple enough. It didn’t fit a princess, but that was kind of the point, so they were all fine with it.

(Except for Rarity.)

(But the rest just ignored her.)

The Royal Guards, carrying roses, worked as a fine funeral procession, following them with ominous coordination. The eagles roamed the skies, and their cries were oddly appropriate for the ceremony.

“Beats the bagpipes,” Dash remarked.

And then they got to the grave, and they settled Twilight down, and Applejack took up the shovel one more time. Spike woke up just in time to say his goodbyes.

The rest followed.

It wasn’t easy to accept Twilight was gone.

What happened then would remain a mystery forever. Nopony asked Pinkie Pie if she had done it herself—pacts with Ancient Demons were strange, after all—or if it was just the wind. After all, Twilight’s Castle had exploded while being completely full of roses, and eldritch detonations don’t burn.

Maybe it was both. They didn’t want to know the why, truly.

But when they buried Twilight Sparkle, and looked at her for the very last time, roses fell from the sky all around them.

Not as good as rain to hide your tears, but at least Rarity stopped complaining about the roughness of the grave.

“Look, all I’m saying is,” Dash was saying along the way, “you have an army, right? And that’s awesome.”

Rarity nodded. “Yes.”

“And AJ and Pinkie have their thing. And Spike summoned an Ancient Demon of Paperwork. And Fluttershy understood the meaning of death and faced an entire crowd of angry nobleponies by herself.”

“Indeed.”

“But I’m the one who punched that dude with the bagpipes, right?” Dash said, pointing at her chest. “So I feel that I’m the real MVP today.”

Rarity frowned. “I have to say, as a member of an a capella group myself, Rainbow Dash? I absolutely agree.”

The crowd had long since dispersed. Some nobleponies had gone back to Canterlot, some were dilly-dallying around town, and all of them were trying to keep away from the eagles. The soldiers were walking with them at a distance [12], still in perfect formation, still carrying roses.

[12] Rarity was aware that at some point she’d be forced to return them to Canterlot—but in the meantime, this looked like a perfect opportunity to ruin the day of anypony who dared make a “fashion police” joke around her.

And the girls were going back to town, to settle down and maybe get a drink for the night.

“Oh! And speaking of MVPs!” Rarity said all of a sudden, her ears perking up. “Rainbow Dash! Did you see Fancy Pants at the funeral? He was with—”

“With one of the Wonderbolts! Oh my gosh, yes, I saw!” Dash jumped in glee so hard that she started flying in circles around Rarity. “They were together, right? Fancy Pants and one of the Wonderbolts! Oooh, I can’t believe it!”

“We must talk about this in-depth, dear. We simply must. Your house, or mine?”

“Yours. I’ll bring the wine!” Then Dash giggled. “This is going to be great!”

“So what went on with Spike’s Corner, then, sugarcube?” AJ was asking Pinkie, some distance behind them. “Is that still there, or…?”

“Did you really name that thing after me?” Spike asked, poking his head from behind Pinkie’s head. He was still riding on her back. “That thing almost killed me!”

“Hey, your fault for being so bad at paperwork.”

“Oh, it’s going away,” Pinkie Pie said, bouncing. Her left eye was still completely black. She didn’t seem to mind. “Maniphestopheles says he’s bringing it to my room! It’ll be like a sleepover, only for all eternity!”

“Right. Can’t wait to see how that affects our lives, really.”

“Well, I think he might be useful,” Fluttershy said, giving Pinkie a happy nudge. “Maybe he’ll help out whenever there’s trouble in Ponyville.”

“Eh.” Applejack made a face. “Ah don’t know. He’ll probably be like Discord and vanish whenever we actually need ‘im.”

“Hmm. Well, at least he is nice.”

“So, Fluttershy!” Pinkie PIe returned the happy nudge. “Did you find out the meaning of death in the end?”

“Uh. Yeah. I gave a whole speech about it.”

“Oh, sweet! I was battling the legions of Hell when that happened, sorry. Then it all ended well! A happy ending!”

Fluttershy nodded. “Twilight died.”

“Aside from that!”

“Hey, that can still be a good endin’, if you give it time,” AJ said, with a maternal tone. “Trust me. As long as you can move on, it’ll all be okay. Life goes on.”

“Yeah!” Pinkie said. “In a way, this isn’t the end of an old adventure! It’s the start of a new one!”

“Right.” Spike raised a finger. “About that.”

“Hmm?”

“I kinda didn’t want to ask this back there because I thought it would be awkward, and we were all so into it? But, like, uh.” Spike scratched the back of his neck. “Did we just bury Twilight alive?”

They all stopped dead in their tracks.

Even Rainbow Dash and Rarity, who weren’t even walking with them, went silent.

“Um.” Fluttershy blinked. “Uh. Did we?”

“…Well,” Rarity said, frowning. “I mean, she has her magic, doesn’t she? She can just teleport herself out.”

“I sorta broke her horn, actually,” Dash said. “I think? Geez, I hope. But maybe she can still cast some kind of—”

“Ah’m gonna get the shovel. Again.”

“Yeah, you do that.”

“Haha!” Pinkie turned around mid-bounce, and Spike almost fell from her back. “We’re going to rob a grave! This is so cool already!”

“Pinkie,” Fluttershy said, as they all followed Applejack. “We’re rescuing Twilight.”

“We’re robbing a grave and rescuing Twilight! Even better!”

“She’s not going to be happy when we take her out,” Dash mused. “You know, her horn and all that. Just a heads-up.”

“Also, her house went up in flames,” Rarity added. “For the second time in a row.”

“Yeah, also that.”

“And Winter Wrap Up happens tomorrow,” Rarity said. “Princess Celestia is coming to visit, and Twilight won’t have any magic. Or a house.”

Dash thought about it. “Well, that sounds stressful.”

“We’re not going to sleep for two weeks after this.”

“Nope.”

“Oh.” Fluttershy, who was fluttering right next to Pinkie, looked at her friend. “Looks like you were right,” she said.

“Yeah?” Pinkie said.

“Yeah. This is just the start of a new adventure.” Fluttershy scratched the back of her neck. “Do you think Winter Wrap Up will go well tomorrow?”

“Fluttershy, Fluttershy, Fluttershy.” Pinkie shook her head and gave Shy a smile. Her black eye reflected the sun like a mirror. “This is Ponyville! Everything that can go wrong will go wrong! And I wouldn’t have it any other way!”

And Fluttershy laughed at this, and they just kept walking, all the way back to Sweet Apple Acres, to fetch the shovel and get Princess Twilight out of her grave.

She wouldn’t have it any other way, Pinkie had said.

And now that Twilight Sparkle was gone, and the old days had become memories, and she had been forced to go through this mayhem of a funeral… Well, Fluttershy thought as they all rode into the sunset. She couldn’t help but agree.