You hear the knock upon your chamber door. It was nice after over fifty years of service to still get woken up before dawn.
Oh, wait, no it wasn't, it was awful.

Your face tenses as you slowly open your eyes. That damnable knocking keeps going.
“I'm old! Not deaf!” You shout, rubbing your eyes of sleep, your facial wrinkles wobbling as you do so. The knocking, happily for you, ceases. The door opening all of a sudden however is somewhat less welcome.

Her Majesty Celestia, she of some fucking titles give me a break it's not even five in the morning, barges in. You roll your eyes, not even sparing her more than a second's glance as you reach out of your bed for the pills by your bedside. Heart pills, cholesterol pills, Iron and vitamins. Fibre, Calcium and the all-important breath mints.

God being old sucked.

As soon as you swallowed these pills down with some water you leaned up out of bed to look at the goddess of daylight.
“You do remember I sleep naked right? This was funnier years ago, but now I somehow doubt you want to look at this?” You ask, raising a single eyebrow. To prove a point, you slap your chest, your liver spots and old man boobs jiggling.

Celestia rolls her eyes, having seen and heard this enough times before.
”It's nothing I haven't seen before Anonymous. I just thought I'd spare my servants of that sight today,” She remarks dryly, glancing up and down your body with a slight smile. Well, a smile to hide a wince.

Today? Damn, what was today?

You try to push through the mental fog, try to remember what today's date even was. It's little use, as you figured it might be, so you turn to the calendar beside your bed.
June first.
Oh
Your birthday. Your eightieth birthday, to be precise. How fun.

“You always did care about protecting them from such horrors,” You say, trying to continue her conversation and ignore the thoughts that come, unbidden, when you think about today's date. You stretch, clicking your aching back as you did so.

”I care about all my subjects Anon. Even you,” She replies, her voice growing quieter on that last word.

Even I.

“So. It's just a small event, right? I didn't want anything big this...” You say cautiously.

Celestia blushes. You sigh, knowing exactly what that meant. Celestia sighs as well before opening her mouth to speak.
”I'm afraid you're still officially the head of the Royal household. And as such, decorum...” She begins to explain. Or maybe to plead with you.

“Fuck Decorum. It's been years since I officially served as head of the household. It's been ten since I've ever been involved in hiring new staff,” You begin to list off. All you wanted was to stay in bed till midday, maybe share a small cake with her in the afternoon and go back to bed after that.

”It's not... You deserve a decent celebration,” She explains.

“Won't get many left I suppose,” You mumble darkly.

Celestia growls. A low thing deep within her throat. She never liked your talk of mortality.
”Don't. I don't know exactly how long humans live for, but you still have...”

You hold up your hands in appeasement, not really wishing to have this kind of conversation first thing in the morning.
“Sorry. Look... I've got to get out of this bed. Unless you wish to see old man penis your majesty I need you to leave,” You jape, hoping to quickly move the topic on before she starts... Talking about your... Well, you aren't too comfortable discussing with her either.

She sighs, trotting slightly where she stands.
”You will be there? Four o'clock?” She asks, unable to keep that all too familiar hopeful tone out of her voice.

For a moment, you consider not going, but you don't have the strength to leave the castle to flee from your own party. And frankly, you owe her this. For more reasons than one.
“I'll be there. In as good a condition as possible. All things considered,” You force a smile, the edges of your mouth turned up, but you can see from her own expression that she sees through it. Celestia smiles awkwardly back, aware of the deception, but accepts that as an answer and moves to leave.

You make sure she's gone, before grabbing your arm support and dragging your aching body out of bed. Stumbling into your en-suite, gripping the porcelain basin in a death grip as you catch your breath from the early morning exercise.
And you look into the mirror.

Wrinkles, silver hair, liver spots and a single scar from decades ago make up your haggard face. For a moment you look at what you had become. How the years had taken their toll on you, same as everyone else. But yours was a uniquely aged face. One of a kind.

It hadn't always been like this. You remember...

You stare into the mirror and touch the few silver hairs on your head. You couldn't care less, they look good on you. Dignified. Well, maybe you cared a little, but it worked for you.
“Starfall. What's on the itinerary today?”

Starfall, your personal assistant, the unlucky mare a butler to a butler, looked down at her list. As you began to clean your teeth she rattled it off.
”The Grand Galloping Gala still needs its decorations picked up from Manehatten. Prince Artemis is expecting dinner with Her Majesty today. Lord Prima Noctis has a petition that must not go through or be brought before Her Majesty, but must be at least heard by her Royal household.”

You nod and grin through the toothpaste, aware of what the stuck up noble bastard wanted to suggest, and aware of what Celestia might do to him if he were to say it.

”Normal activities otherwise. Sunrise in an hour, court from dawn till midday,” Starfall explains, rolling up the rather short list with her magic. You finish cleaning your teeth and spit out, before shooting yourself a prize-winning smile.
Literally prize-winning. It had won you a prize in some high society magazine last year. Mares loved the smile, and were usually a little flustered at a professional male in such a high and respected position. Well, all but one. Most assumed that was why Celestia hired you two decades ago.

You... Could not confirm that. She had been very weird about why she hired you with no servant experience and with a standing mob hit on you in Manehatten.

“And of course, Her Majesty will require a run to Ambrosia's cakeshop will she not?” You ask your assistant as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

”Of course sir.”

You shake your head, smiling at your boss' vices. You share one last look into the mirror, checking out your slim physique that honestly took up much of your free time to maintain. If you were hired all those years for eye candy, you had to maintain it.
“Am I looking acceptable today Starfall?” You ask, glancing to her from the mirror.

Your young apprentice finally looks up from her notepad, checking out your shirtless body as you smile into the mirror.
”Y... You look acceptable, sir.” She replies, the same as she did almost every day.

You chuckle, shaking your head.
“Acceptable huh? We shall have to try better than that. Come on, perhaps I ought to put some clothes on?" You ask rhetorically, glancing down to confirm you were still naked.
Smacking her on the rear, you leave the bathroom and make your way towards your wardrobe.
It was going to be a good day.

You stare into your haggard reflection.
Starfall was dead. The one person you had been training to replace you died surrounded by her children and grandchildren. You, the beast out of place, lingered.

You had outlived them all. All your old bosses, most of your colleagues. Most of your protégés and employees.
Only Celestia had remained a constant, even now at the end.
You coughed into the basin, and blood dripped into the pipes. And you kept coughing, splattering the basin in blood. When at last your lungs could give no more, you gasp, gripping the basin as you crouched on the tile floor.

Slowly you pulled yourself up, looked into the mirror, and wiped the blood off around your mouth. Your hollow green eyes can barely remain focused, or perhaps merely wish to save you from looking back at yourself.

You turn on the tap to wash the blood away, then get to work cleaning yourself. When at last that laborious task was done you shuffled your way towards the closet inside your room. For once you'd put on more than some sweater, shirt and pressed trousers. Like or not, today demanded a certain level of class.

And you reach for the hand... Hoof.
Hoof-made suit. Black as onyx, with a white shirt and naval blue bow tie. A gift from an old friend, Mirror Gleam. Mirror Shine? Reflection? God, you can't even remember her name.
As you put on your trousers, you realise you've been losing far too much weight again, and sigh as you reach for your suspenders. Being old sucked. It'd be over soon enough.

For some of them, it was the first time they had ever seen their nominal boss. That wasn't to say you were completely absent from the job you claimed to have, but you'd long ago passed on the day to day running of the household to your second in command. Occasionally you'd step in for disciplinary matters, or to meet old foreign ambassador friends you'd met over the years.

Indeed, to your surprise, it was one such Minotaur you were meeting now.
”Anon! Old friend!” A familiar bellowing voice shouts out from the opposite end of the dining table.

“Silvertouch!” You shout back, genuine glee and joy in your voice. The two of you hobble towards each other and shake hands.

Once, your meeting would've been mutual slaps on the back, maybe some thrown punches, and certainly plenty of Cactus juice to drink into the wee hours of the morning. But time had its way with us all, and your drink of choice had changed to a light camomile tea. The punches gave way to friendly hand/hoofshakes. And the wee hours now only fifteen minutes.

“How are you old thing? It's been a while,” you ask.

”Oh, fine. They're speaking of finally sending me back to Labyrinthia if you can believe that?” Silvertouch replies, chuckling at the mere suggestion of leaving this place.

“Well. You are old,” you point out hypocritically.

”So are you, Anon, but they keep you here. I swear, there's no respect for my bloodline anymore," He replies.

You roll your eyes and try to stop him before he starts to rant about being a descendant of Nergüi, the minotaur that created their modern nation a thousand years ago.
“The young are want to be disrespectful. I can hardly blame them. I hate old people,” You reply with a shaking shrug and a wry smile.

Silvertouch laughs out, before shakingly grabbing his cup of tea. Parkinsons, or some Minotaur derivative, had afflicted him. You know, and likely he did as well, that his ambassadorial career was coming to an end, whether he wished it to or not.
”They prefer the tales of Khuchtei the strong or Gaikhaltai the charming. No respect for the best of the three brothers.”

You sigh and shake your head, taking a sip of your own mug of tea.
“I wouldn't know. I've never been to Labyrynthia," You admit after a brief sip.

”Oh, you must visit sometime!” Silvertouch exclaims.
You wince slightly.

“I don't know. I don't think I've got the will to make the trip,” You quietly admit to your old friend. Silvertouch's own expression darkens.

”It has been sapped from you. From both of us. I shall die here, that I have no doubt,” He also admits as he shakingly reaches out for a cup of his own.

“I know the feeling. A stranger in a... Once strange land,” You reply.

”I dream of it sometimes. The warm sands. Home...” He explains quietly.

“As do... It's difficult to remember that place. I am grateful for everything I was able to become here. But I cherish what little I remember of that world,” You explain. You so rarely talked of that place you can scarce remember. It was... both painful and refreshing to speak of it again.

”I suppose, at least, I shall be buried in the sands, in the tombs of my ancestors,” He says, forcing some excitement and joy into his voice, slapping himself weakly on the chest. He could, but you could not push aside the regret from your voice, or the thoughts in your mind.

“I will be here. As far from home as I've always been,” You explain, lifting your mug of tea for emphasis.

”Do not fret Anonymous. We've both lived long, fruitful lives,” He says, patting the tablecloth. Once, that would have been a punch to the shoulder. But you could no longer take those, and he could no longer give them.

You shake your head.
“You may have been 'fruitful'. I on the...”

You cough.
The fine china drops from your hand and cracks against the floor as you hold up your hand to your mouth. And you just keep coughing. You feel your energy leave you as you keep coughing, unable to stop.

Silvertouch leaps up to try and help you, but with your free hand, you stop him. After nearly a solid minute of coughing, finally, you stop.
“Sorry. Ahem. Sorry about that.”

You glance at the table. The tablecloth near you is covered in blood. Some has splattered onto the cakes you were about to eat as well, ruining them. As this damned cough always did.

“My apologies. I shall get the servants to fetch us some new...” You plead, moving to stand up and waving over the watching servant. You haven't quite the energy to stand, falling back into your chair.

”Anon... You don't look too well,” Silvertouch says quietly.
Understatement of the century there.

You check your suit is clean, then wipe your mouth.
“I haven't long left. I figured I have to go one way or another, so I've been keeping it quiet,” You explain.

Silvertouch shakes as he places one of his hooves on your back.
”That's... What is it?” He asks, his eyes staring into your own, searching perhaps for the answer there.

You shrug.
“Doesn't really matter. Hurts like a bitch.”

”Anon. You need to go to a horsepital. You need to...” Silvertouch begins to command.

“I'm eighty years old Silvertouch. You and Celestia herself are all I have left in this world. I'm not like you, I don't have legions of kids and grand-kids,” You interrupt.

”That doesn't mean...”

“I'm not afraid. Not really. I've been ready for this for years. Y'know, I outlived my grandparents? I might have outlived my Parents. I don't know. Home is... so far away,” You whisper. You wipe the tear from your eye. “Way I see it, the only reason to hold on is to keep... Losing myself to the fog.”

You tap your head.
“So long as I die as myself I'll be happy. Proud of a life long lived, even without a decent legacy,” You admit, forcing yet another smile, blood staining your teeth ever so slightly.

Silvertouch is silent. He keeps his hoof on your shoulder, but he's at a loss for words.

“Go on. Let's have tea together,” You command, in order to change the subject, to move past this. You wave him off, moving off his hoof from your shoulder. Slowly and cautiously he stumbles his way back down to his seat as a servant replaces your shattered teacup and fills it.

“You will keep quiet about what we discussed here, won't you? Please," You beg of her.
The servant, not one you knew, nodded.

Your party had started. You grip the bannister of the Grand Staircase as you thank a bunch of ponies you barely remember for coming for what was essentially a free party for them. Some you did remember. Old Lords and Ladies who'd look at you with sympathy. Others were sprightly young things that remembered the last time you actually did your job properly. A number of retired Servants, Maids and Butlers that greeted you like you were their father. That showed you to their children, who looked pretty bored being here.

It still warmed your cold heart to see old friends, and their children, as bratty as they were.

Despite being a formal occasion for a butler, the rest of the household was hard at work moving between attendants, filling up glasses, passing out hors-d'oeuvres. It had been under your explicit instruction three decades ago the name was changed from Horse-d'oeurves, and you hadn't regretted that one bit.

After some red wine, some cakes and nibbles, and a brief, meandering speech thanking them all for coming, wishing them well and promising, perhaps falsely, to see them all next year, you left the party for the younger ponies. People able to stay awake. People not quietly hiding to cough into a flower pot or behind a marble pillar. People whose chests didn't hurt quite as much as yours did.

As you leave the party, you know exactly where you wish to go just before you head to... Well.
In the hallway outside the Grand hall, you stand before an ancient painting. You've done enough today, and you need to rest for a while.

It's a grand thing, twice as tall as you are, of some explorer from two hundred years ago. You had always taken a moment out of your day to look at it, even when you came here over fifty years ago.
It was striking. A male unicorn wearing a truly outstanding amount of clothes for a pony.
But it was its eyes. Deep green and piercing, the same as yours, that made you look upon it.

As you stare back into its eyes you hear the familiar sound of metal upon marble and smile softly as your employer approaches you.
”One of the few males to get far in life. Farseer was quite a... Pony,” Celestia explains, though you did know his name from the plaque on the frame.

“Do you remember him?” You ask as you turn to face her. You knew why you needed to know if she remembered him. You just hope she would not yet work out why you were asking.

She turns to you.
”I remember them all. Everyone. You shall be...” She replies. She did know why exactly you were asking. Even after all these years, you still couldn't hide from her that easily. You smile at her, then turn back to the painting.

The two of you stand there, quietly, for a few moments. You take one of your hands off your cane and place your right hand against her back
“I'm going to go out to the balcony. I know you need to set the sun soon. It's been a... Lovely party. Thank you. For everything,” You say, breaking the silence. You hold back a cough in your throat, hoping desperately she needs to go.

”Anon... I...” She says, only to stumble on that last word.

You smile as you turn to her again, looking into her eyes. She shakes her head.
”I suppose it's too late for that?” She asks, tears forming in her eyes even as she stares ahead at the painting.

“I suppose it is," You admit, holding back your own tears. "Perhaps one day Celestia. Until next time.”

You fight the tears and the cough, holding them back from her. It'd only upset her. She had others to look after. She had the 1000th summer sun celebration. That unicorn mare of hers. All the little ponies. You were only one man.

She finally leaves after a few more seconds. Perhaps she knew what was about to happen. You were always bad at keeping secrets from her Majesty. You spare one final glance towards Farseer. How long had he lived for? Did he pass on his greatness to the next generation?
Or was he like you?
Ultimately... Alone.

Your next coughing fit starts. Worst than usual, you collapse to the floor. You feel something snap within you. Blood drips from your maw. You desperately try to hold it back. Someone had to clean this.
You knew how to get the stains out... You knew how to... You can't stop yourself. You place your shaking fingers small puddle of blood on the marble. It would stain the floor. Linger, even after you were... After you were gone.

You stumble to your favourite balcony in the castle. It wasn't the one attached to your room, nor the grand one beside the court. No, this was a small one at the edges of the castle.

Staring west, towards the setting sun. From here, you swore you could almost see all of Equestria. There was a cool wind blowing from the north. Another reason you liked this balcony so much. And the final reason...

There was a small bench, just ready to sit upon.

Shakingly you almost fall into it, your aching bones screaming as you do so. You try to move to sit more comfortably, and sit upright as years of etiquette training had taught you, but...
You cannot find the energy.

You wince as you taste the iron on your mouth. Rubbing it with your hand, your fingers are caked in blood.
Looking up and taking in the majesty of the sky, you whisper and admit something to yourself;
“I don't think I'll be getting up.”

You try to smile, and close your eyes as the last rays of the sun warm your face one last time. As prepared as you were for this moment, it's strange for it to finally come. You... You had been... You weren't afraid.

“This is good."

You try to open your eyes again, but your eyelids are quite heavy. Your breathing slows, and your throat constricts a little. It isn't...
It isn't too painful.

You'd quite like to look towards the mare in the moon.
But maybe you should just get some rest.
There's always next...

You awaken. And fuck, does everything fucking hurt.
“Fuck me!” You roar, squeezing your eyes shut before punching the ground.

You try and stand up, and nearly fall down onto the floor again.

”What the!” A woman's voice exclaims in shock. You try and turn to the voice, your eyes squinting through the pain. At best, you can make out a vague purple shape screaming at you.

”What are you!?”

What?
“What?”

”You can talk?” That same voice asks.

What?
“Of course I can talk. I'm a god-damn human being you...”

Your vision clears, and you cannot help but notice you are talking to a small purple unicorn. That... That was a tad unexpected. Of course, there's only a single way to put words to such an observation.

“Holy shit. A talking horse?”

Author's Note

Yeah, figured I'd repost this green but as prose for the One-year anniversary. You can read ahead to get spoilers if you didn't before, but if you don't know what's going on it should all become clear in the next few chapters. Hope you enjoy!