Bad Girls

The life of a pony was often extremely long and filled with a rich fullness that emerged from the freedom from fear, want and pain, to say nothing of the many friends and family members that filled that long life. But even with that length and richness, it was ever the lot of ponies to die at the end, saving the Princesses.

The grim reaper at last came to touch one of the grand matriarchs of the locally-powerful Rich-Lode family. All the money and glamor in Equestria, and all the family and love, could not stave off the cut of the reaper's scythe. The signs were there, with a progressive, degenerative nerve disorder giving a final countdown to her end. It did not make it any easier to take, when Silver Spoon finally gave up the ghost.

The funeral was arranged with great expediency by Silver's wife, with her usual aplomb and ruthless efficiency. The Rich-Lode family was drawn in from their slightly-scattered positions to the family land, which had long ago been formed by the merging of the two family properties and the construction of a single, grand manor to replace the two which had been demolished.

Silver would have the strange honor of being the first pony to occupy the Rich-Lode crypt, which rested below a beautiful marble mausoleum that had been embellished with silver bands and diamond inlays. It was set in the rear of the property, behind the previous private graveyard of cenotaphs and beautifully carved tombstones.

Her coffin was, naturally, a silver box, which rested on a bier in front of the open doors to the mausoleum. Chairs were arrayed in front of it, and were occupied by the family members. It was unusual indeed, for the normally self-aggrandizing and self-promoting Diamond Tiara. But the family understood. Her wife was special. She would never make a spectacle out of her death. After all, her whole life had been dedicated wholly and solely to protecting Silver Spoon.

Diamond Tiara strolled up the central aisle between the chairs, passing children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, a pained smiled plastered on her face as she made the effort to appear strong. “Grandmother, you need help?” Her grandson-in-law, Citrine Lode, stood up. He was a sandy yellow, small-bodied Diamond Dog, the current foredog of Lode Mining and Processing. He was one of the family members to live in the manor, given the nature and location of his job. He was there with his wife, first daughter of the first son of Silver.

A gentle smile spread across the old mare's face. She was as saggy and creaky as any old mare, but with long limbs and a much thinner, sere form. “No no, Citrine. But it's sweet of you to ask. You've always been good to us. I'm glad Electra married you.” She leaned in to rest her head against the Dog and receive a hug in return. After the family interlude she continued down to the coffin.

Her hoof hovered above the silver surface of the box, almost seeming afraid of contact. For the usually-unflappable old mare it was unusual. Yet again, it was not. The body in the box had been the love of her life, the reason she rose every morning with a smile, and the reason she went to bed every night with a sigh of delight. But eventually, she not only touched it, she pushed it open.

The inside of the box was aged teak, a pleasant silver-gray color, with white lace trim in the lower portion. Silk lined the inside of the bottom, on which Silver's body rested. She had been placed in her favorite dress, a cream-and-gray pseudo-banishment-era thing that managed to hide the thickness of her squat body without using corsets or bodices. She was on her back, head down slightly, eyes closed. Her semi-ovular pointed-ended glasses were there, the same style she had had since she was a filly. There was an almost-beatific look on her face, her usual look when she was just sleeping. The mortician had done a spectacular job. She scarcely looked as old as she had been. More a grandmother than a great-grandmother.

The entire gathered assembly looked in at the body of one of the family matriarchs, bowing their heads reverently after looking, some of the younger ones peeking up for second looks. Once the looks were done and the heads bowed for a time, Diamond cleared her throat and drew every eye back to her. She looked... unusual nervous. It was not the usual look for the canny businessmare. But nothing was usual that day. The family only took it in stride as she gathered the nerve to speak.

“This is the day... the day we all thought would never come. Silver... always seemed like she would go on forever. We promised as much when we were married, so long ago. And even when we got old and creaky and grody, we were still those mares. And the fillies in grade school. I was her dame in diamond armor, and she was my silver princess. Even when we knew we were going to look like the filly fooler version of Mister and Mrs. Cake, or Snips and Snails, nothing changed. That was what made it so special, so wonderful. Even when everything changed, little by little... nothing changed.

“She was always my Sugarlump Rump. I invented that term when I was a little foal, pretending to insult her. She knew I didn't mean it... and then I meant it. Every time. When it stopped being a silly fake insult and started meaning “I love you and always will.” I never minded saying it, I did it freely, and just often enough. It never got old, never went stale, was always able to put a smile on her face.

“It was our thing and it became part of our day... if you don't want to hear these things about your mother and grandmother and great-grandmother please cover your ears. But it was true... every morning after we were married... I woke her up with a big, soft kiss on that sugarlump rump. I was always up first. I wanted a jump on the business day. So I kissed her, and she smiled because she thought it was cute. Even at the end... when she was sick... I still did it. And she smiled brighter. She said it made her feel alive, and normal. Like nothing was wrong. Just that little thing could make her happy. That was her. She was so easy to make happy, when you really knew her.

“I... don't know how to stop... if I stop this eulogy I'll have to close the lid on her. I'll have to let her go. And I don't want her to go. I can't. This wasn't the plan. Our whole lives were planned and decided a long time ago, and we loved every minute of it. But I always planned... to go first. It was supposed to be me. It was supposed to be me!” She turned to the coffin and cried out into the face of her dead wife. “It was supposed to be me going first! We planned it!” He hoof clopped loudly on the edge of the coffin as she pounded on it, tears flowing freely.

Citrine again came to the emotional aid of his grandmother. He gingerly moved her hooves away with one hand while he brought the lid down slowly and reverently. He brought Diamond around to the head of the coffin and softly patted her side. “Grandmother is alright?”

“I am perfectly well. Thank you. Thank you...” Diamond leaned against her grandson again and put on a small smile. “Pardon my... indelicacy. This is a very trying time. But you understand.” She smiled at the audience, who were wiping their own tears away.

There were a few different spiritual traditions among the four present generations. Diamond Dogs held that the souls of the dead would mineralize and become an enrichment of the earth they had harvested all their lives; the Zaldi present believed the good would walk on a road of gold forever in perfect happiness while the evil would walk on a road of lead forever tormented by Windigoes; Roa thought that souls resided in a moonlit paradise where nopony wandered and there were beautiful things all around; the average Equestrian believed in a pleasant afterlife of ill definition, a warm and gentle area of timeless delight. Diamond believed them all. Not because she hedged her bets or prevaricated to play all sides, but because she found it pleasant to imagine every lovely fate for her bride.

Each tradition also had their own rituals for the pre-internment. The Equestrian portion was in the eulogy and the coffin for burial. The few Roa were playing a soft dirge, as were the Zaldi, one of the Roa playing a slow hurdy-gurdy while two of the Zaldi added rhythm to it with a txalaparta. Citrine gave a deep, low howl, as did his children, and his wife, doing her best to sound right despite her pony throat.

The honors over, then came the grim task. Three of the family members came over. Citrine stood before the head of the coffin and reached behind himself to grasp a long bar. Jolly Rich-Lode, Diamond's youngest son, took up a position beside the rear right side. He was a unicorn, pale blue in color with a dark blue mane. At the other rear edge was another unicorn, a mare. She was a light pink color with a mulberry mane. Cherie Rich-Lode, wife of Silver's daughter Brassy. Citrine lifted on his end, effortlessly lifting half of the heavy box. While he did that Cherie and Jolly lit their horns and pulled on their respective corners, raising the coffin into the air. Once it was up, all three stepped forward into the mausoleum, and set the coffin on a silver bier, on the right side of the inner space. On the left was a marble bier studded with large, perfect diamonds. There was a red carpet running down the center between biers towards a sloped opening which led down into the crypt proper.

The door to the mausoleum was closed with a resounding thud, then securely locked. The three pallbearers moved back down to the rows of sitting ponies, who all looked expectantly at Diamond. She stroked at the namesake tiara on her brow and sighed gently. “Time to... go back to the manor. There's a luncheon set out for everypony in the party room. The... first time anypony but myself and Silver were invited in.”

The assembled gathering moved away towards the house, speaking to one another in low tones, a group moving the txalaparta. One figure lingered back, a young Diamond Pony of about ten. She was a sandy yellow color, with the normal elongated forearms with large hands, hooves at the ends of her legs and a lovely pony head on her shoulders. Her mane and tail, which was Diamond Dog-like but with longer fur, were of a pink tone. “Great-gramma Diamond, can we go play with the peabirds?”

The old mare laughed brightly and fuzzled the head of the little puppyfoal. “No, no Sandy dear. We need to go in for lunch. Just leave the poor things alone for now. You can play with them tomorrow, even if they always chase you around.”

“It's fun!” Sandy grinned at her great-grandmother and scampered off towards the manor. Diamond watched her go with a bemused grin. She would miss the little ones when she was gone.

The funeral reception lasted the whole day. The families that did not live in the manor left that evening to return to their homes which, in most cases, were not that far away. The ones left were very quiet, even the children. They understood that Diamond needed silence and contemplative solitude. They remained on the ground floor, leaving her alone on the fifth floor, which was mostly a landing and the bedroom the two mares had shared for decades.

Diamond slowly combed out her hair, which had long ago ceased to be two-toned. It was pure white, and still somewhat wavy. Beautiful. Silver had always said it was beautiful, even when it was losing its color. It was why she had never bothered to dye it. If it was beautiful enough for her wife, it was more than enough for Equestria in general.

She regarded the room in the mirror, which was a tremendous oval set in a fame of silver with diamond inlays. Their decorating style had grown into a rut, but one which amused and pleased them. The room was paneled in stained hardwoods, with a plush carpet. The walls were adorned with dozens of photographs, from their earliest dates to the births of their children, and marriages of said children, as well as grandchildren. It was practically a time capsule of the most vital moments in their lives. Almost overlooked in it all were pictures of the day they were given control of the business holdings which began very successful careers for them both.

The furniture was all antique, and had belonged to their parents. The large bed, with its multiple-metal filigreed headboard and sturdy iron canopy posts came from the Lode family, while the makeup vanity that Silver was at was all Rich. The chests, the armoire, the bureaus, they were all from the Rich and Lode families. Those objects not used in their own room had been distributed amongst the children.

Another lonely night loomed ahead. That was the thought in the back of Diamond's mind as she set down the silver-handled brush and looked at her wrinkled, withered face in the mirror. The difference was, she had seen her wife settled in a coffin and placed inside the lonely stone mausoleum in the back of the property. When she was still in the hooves and hands of the morticians it was not quite as stark. The bed wasn't quite as lonely. But with the ceremony over...

The opposite side of the bed seemed cold and bare, so much more than before. She reached out for the plump, cheerfully-wrinkled squat mare, and grasped nothing but air and empty blankets. A soft sigh flew out from her mouth and her eyes clamped shut tight. Just faintly from below, she could hear the sounds of the family from below, including a faint indication of cheery music, a common post-burial custom among all the traditions.

A little smile played around on her lips. Her family was happy, and that was the most important thing. They would get on very well, and continue for a long while, exactly as had been intended. They would be fine without Silver. And without her as well.

She could not go on without Silver. Her plans had never included the idea of trying. It had always been a very simple and straightforward thing. She would die first, Silver would go on in her widow's weeds for a while before she finally succumbed to something quick and painless. That was the plan. The way it was supposed to be.

She had never learned to be without Silver. Never had to be. She had always been there. She had promised to be there for her forever. That was one of the things she had actually apologized for. When she realized the illness was going to take her, she had apologized for that. Another of the little things that had made Silver so... Silver.

Now all the plans were ruined. They had worked out so perfectly for well over half a century, very near to a full one. At the very end, tripping at the finish line. She thought it was perfect. Silver had been the sensible one, the calm one. Calm ponies were supposed to live longer. No stress, no worries. Diamond was honestly surprised she had made it so long.

She couldn't bear it. Not one more long, dark, lonely night. Not knowing she was there in the grave. Wrapped up in a box, out lonely in the empty mausoleum and crypt. She needed her protector. The silver princess was lost without her dame in diamond armor. She had said so. All the time. And every Nightmare Night they had the same costumes to show it off.

All the old romantic movies and books and radio dramas talked about lovers who went together. They were so connected and involved that they literally expired without one another. It made for a beautiful conclusion to beautiful stories. That always seemed so... real, possible.

Even though Silver had scolded her once for believing in such things, and making a comparison to Featherweight's inane babbling at their wedding, she still found it possible. And even desirable. She wasn't equipped to go on without Silver Spoon. The dame in diamond armor was useless without the silver princess. She had no purpose.

That was the rub. Even leading a modest corporate interest and being the prime matriarch in a large family, she had had one real purpose in her life. Ever since the day of inventing the 'sugar lump rump' her one goal in life had been to spare Silver from ever experiencing pain like that again. And she had been very successful in that. Her whole being had been consumed with her role as being Silver's shield.

She had nothing to shield anymore. No wife to guard and hold and cherish and adore. She was just an old, old mare, all alone in a house full of family, emeritus corporate head used as a figurehead in the present. She could just fade away and nothing much would change. It would almost be preferable.

She would never take her own life. That was foolishness. It was never the answer. But her will was strong. Her will to be with Silver again, in one of the afterlives... commingled minerals enriching the earth, walking the golden road, celebrating beneath the silver moon, or living in perfect bliss. Her will could take her there.

She laid her head down on the pillow. Resolute. She could will herself to death...

The morning sun rose, bright, clear and on time, as ever. It spread a loving warmth across the face of the land. Even over the mourning manor just outside of Ponyville proper, creating an almost cheerful light from the reflection off of the silver and diamonds on the mausoleum. It slanted through the windows on the fifth floor, falling across the pale cheek of Diamond Tiara. It warmed her still, silent body for a moment before her eyes fluttered open and she winced from the bright glare in her face. Another day. Her will was not that strong. She had another day to live.

A noise from her door grabbed her attention and turned her head. She glanced across and watched it open, allowing entrance to a motley collection of foals and puppyfoals, including Sandy. “Great-gramma! Great-gramma! Come on! You gotta come sit in the chair out front and watch us play with the peabirds!”

“The peacocks will get upset when you bother the peahens again. But who am I to deny you?” A smile spread across Diamond's lips, thinking about another day of what had become a routine. Sitting in the rocking chair, watching the younger grandchildren and the great-grandchildren playing on the lawn, bothering the peafowl. She had done it with Silver for ages. Exactly as they had planned.

The plan had changed. And yet it hadn't. She would just have to take on Silver's role. A big job. But she would manage. For love.