Memento Mori
Applejack breathed.
It was a simple task that had recently become far more difficult. Every breath was slow, ragged, uneven. Sharp bolts of pain shot through her chest when she inhaled, as if her lungs might burst, followed by equally sweet relief when she exhaled. It was a wet, rasping rattle of a noise, and that was when she wasn't having a coughing fit.
The bedroom door creaked as it opened and shut. She'd always meant to have Mac fix that blasted thing. Not much point in it now. “Are they gone?” she asked. Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Not gone,” came the answer. Twilight's voice, so unlike her own. Strong, regal, authoritative, like usual. She hadn't always been that way, but that was before she wore a crown. It all seemed so long ago. “They're waiting downstairs.”
“Waitin',” Applejack repeated, dryly. “Waitin' for me to die.”
“They're your friends, Applejack.” There was no amusement in Twilight's voice.
“Ah know,” Applejack sighed. “Best Ah could ever ask for. Just don't seem right, standin' around, waitin' for the end to come. Should be off doin' somethin' more important.”
“Nothing is more important than this.” Twilight's tone was gently chiding.
“Says you.” If she had the strength, Applejack might have felt like arguing the point. But she didn't, so instead, she laid her head back upon her pillow, lifting her eyes to the ceiling, and staring at nothing. “Do they know what it is?”
“Yes.” Twilight moved closer to the bedside. Applejack could hear her wings rustling in the darkness, and the clomp of her hooves upon the floor as she moved. “Cancer, just as we thought.”
“An' I thought an apple a day would always keep me healthy.” Applejack chuckled; it left her lips in another burst of fitful coughing, leaving her hunched over the edge of the bed. She heard Twilight approaching, and held up a hoof to ward the princess off. When she had sufficiently recovered, she slumped back into bed, gasping for breath. She didn't feel feverish, but her hair was damp with sweat. “Anythin' we can do?”
Twilight shook her head. “No,” she said. “I'm sorry. It's too advanced for surgery.”
Applejack nodded weakly. “What about magic?”
“The procedure is very delicate,” Twilight said. “We can't just wish it out of you. The tumors have to be removed carefully, one at a time, or else we'd risk accidentally teleporting out one of your organs, like your heart, or your stomach. It requires a great deal of precision, too much for unicorn magic.”
Applejack regarded the ceiling of the bedroom with a kind of fascination. White was such a boring color. Rarity wouldn't like to hear that, she was sure, but it was true. She remembered hearing somewhere that it wasn't even a real color, anyway. If she had the time, she would paint it a more interesting color. Red, maybe, like apples. “But not for alicorn magic,” she said.
Twilight was silent. “No,” she replied, after a moment, “not for alicorn magic.”
Applejack gave another wry chuckle. This time, at least, she managed to avoid coughing her lungs out. “They won't let you do it,” she said.
“I begged them, Applejack.” She could hear the emotion creeping into Twilight's voice. It was unusual, coming from one who tried so hard to be disciplined. “I swear to you, I threw off my crown and begged them on my hooves. They refused outright.”
Applejack smiled faintly. That certainly sounded like her luck. “Did they say why?” she asked.
“Oh, some garbage about not interfering in the natural course of events,” Twilight groused. “If it was an illness we knew how to treat, they'd just give you medicine, but since it isn't, they choose to do nothing. What good is having the power of an alicorn if you aren't going to use it to help anypony?”
“S'okay, sugarcube,” Applejack sighed. “Like Granny used to say, 'Horseapples happen.' Ah guess she was right.” She was unable to keep herself from laughing, and that was a mistake; the sensation caused her to bolt upright in bed, hacking and coughing violently. She pressed an arm against her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound, and felt one of Twilight's wings pressing against her back. After a long moment, she straightened her posture, looking down at her arm. There was fresh blood upon her hoof.
Applejack turned her gaze to her friend. Moonlight streamed in through the open curtains, casting its glow upon the princess's face. Judging by her expression, Applejack supposed that she must have looked even worse than she felt, if that was possible. “How long?” she whispered.
Twilight frowned. “It varies from one pony to the next,” she said, “but given your condition, I think it'll happen tonight.”
“Good,” Applejack muttered. “No sense in drawin' it out. M'tired. Tired of feelin' weak. M'not used to it.” She leaned back against the head of her bed with another sigh, drawing in a deep breath, and then letting it back out again. It was the first one she had taken in a long time that didn't hurt. “Y'know, Twilight, it's funny,” she murmured. “After all we've been through, Ah always thought it'd be a changeling invasion, or a dragon attack, or the sky fallin', or whatever the buck else that'd do me in. Ah have to admit, Ah never thought it'd end like this.”
“It doesn't have to.”
Both Twilight and Applejack abruptly turned to face the new speaker. Neither of them had ever heard the window open. Fluttershy hovered outside it, her leathery wings beating in the cool night air.
“Hello, girls,” Fluttershy continued, her crimson eyes glowing in the darkness. “May I come in?”
“You're always welcome here, sugarcube,” Applejack said. “You know that.”
Fluttershy smiled warmly, a gesture that exposed her gleaming fangs. “Sorry,” she said. “Old habits die hard.” The batpony glided in through the window, alighting upon the floor without a sound. She drew up to the bedside opposite Twilight, looking down upon the orange mare. “You're looking well.”
“Can't lie to Honesty, darlin'.” Applejack mused. “Ah was startin' to wonder if you'd show up. We missed you.”
“Well, I would've been here sooner,” Fluttershy said, lifting her scarlet eyes to Twilight, “but I wasn't entirely sure if I'd be... wanted.”
Twilight scowled. “I never said that you couldn't be here,” she said.
“No,” Fluttershy admitted, “but you didn't invite me, either.”
Applejack lifted a hoof. “No fightin', girls,” she mumbled. “Mah house, mah rules.”
Twilight had been preparing to offer a retort, but at Applejack's prodding, she fell silent, although her scowl deepened. Fluttershy merely nodded.
“No fighting,” she agreed. “Do you know why I'm here?”
“To see me off into the great beyond, Ah imagine. Same as everypony else.”
The batpony canted her head to one side. “Not if you don't want to go,” she said.
Applejack narrowed her eyes. “What d'you mean?”
Fluttershy bowed her head forward. The soft strands of her long, pink mane made a whisper of a sound as they pooled upon the bedsheets. “I am here to offer... an alternative.”
“No,” Twilight snorted. “Absolutely not.”
Fluttershy turned toward Twilight once more. “It is her choice to make, not yours.”
Twilight grimaced. “The other princesses do not approve of that,” she said, “and for the record, neither do I.”
Fluttershy sneered, exposing her fangs once more. “Says the immortal,” she snapped. “When was the last time any of them had to stare the Grim Horseman in the face? When did you?”
“No fightin',” Applejack whispered. Silence fell once more. She turned toward the batpony. “What choice?”
Fluttershy paused. Applejack could see that she was considering her words carefully. “You can become like me,” she said. “No more sickness. No more pain. Only strength, and vitality, and a kind of freedom that you have never known.”
Applejack nodded slowly, then turned to face the princess. “Twilight?”
Twilight bit her lip. “It's unnatural, Applejack,” she said. “You'd be substituting one disease for another.”
“It is not a disease!” Fluttershy hissed. “I am still the Element of Kindness! Have I ever once failed in my obligations to you, or to Equestria?”
Twilight grit her teeth together. “No,” she growled.
“Then let me save our friend,” Fluttershy replied, her tone softening. “Please.”
Twilight squeezed her eyes shut. She was trembling upon her hooves, whether with grief, or some other emotion, Applejack could not tell. After a time, her eyes opened again. “As she said, Applejack,” Twilight whispered, “it is your choice.”
Applejack turned to Fluttershy. She hesitated, for a moment, and then nodded. Fluttershy nodded in turn, and bowed her head closer. Her breath was warm upon Applejack's face.
Applejack lifted a hoof, as best she could manage, giving the batpony pause. “What'll Ah tell mah family?” she whispered.
“Tell them the truth,” the batpony murmured in reply. “Tell them that you chose life over death.”
Fluttershy tenderly nuzzled Applejack's neck, and bit her.