Fluttershy was one of those ponies who lived by the sun. She rose when it rose, and when it set she went to bed. As a life-long admirer of Celestia I could certainly understand the appeal of this lifestyle, but I could never stand to wake any earlier in the day than absolutely necessary. And reading by lantern-light was one of my greatest joys.
We got back from Canterlot just as the sun was starting to sink below the horizon. Even through my blindfold and shades I could see the brilliant reds and oranges of the twilight-stained sky, and I spent the last minutes of the train ride staring in unabashed awe at the sunset. Starlight had to nudge me back to the present when we stopped.
“Want me to come with you?” Starlight asked. We’d made a quick dinner of honey-toasted oats with sorrel garnish. Neither of us felt like getting out real plates and setting them up in the dining room, so we huddled together around one of the kitchen counters. “Fluttershy’s cottage is right next to the Everfree. Kind of… maybe a little dangerous, especially with everything going on?”
Yes. Which was exactly the reason I didn’t want Starlight coming with me. She was a powerful sorceress in her own right, of course, and she could handle herself in almost any situation. But these were unusual times, and the Everfree forest was full of monsters. I’d feel less anxiety with only my own hide to worry about.
I wondered, for a moment, what monsters dreamed of.
“There’s no telling how late I’ll be out there,” I said. “And I’d rather have one of us staying on a normal sleep cycle. The next few days might be a bit crazy. Don’t want us both sleep deprived.”
She frowned, and I don’t think she bought it. But she didn’t argue. “Alright. But be careful. If Discord’s there, don’t do anything rash.”
“When have I ever been rash?”
“Remember the time your bathroom had an intact sink?”
“That…” I cleared my throat. “That won’t happen again.”
She set a hoof atop my fetlock. “Just be cautious, okay? Nothing that’s happened so far is worth getting hurt over.”
I nodded. It was hard to argue with that sentiment. We finished the last of our plates in silence.
Flying at night was a pleasant experience. The stars shone with enough light to illuminate the town below. The houses with their glowing windows were too bright to look at directly without my blindfold, but they were few and far between. I took a few lazy laps around the castle, circling wider each time, just enjoying the feel of the cool night air on my uncovered face.
Fluttershy’s cottage was dark when I arrived. The windows were still open, though the front door was closed. I knocked, waited, knocked again, then pushed it open.
Nature had started to reclaim the inside. Tendrils and feelers from the grass roof crawled in through the windows, exploring the soft earth walls and sending down their roots. A carpet of soft, decaying leaves muffled my hoofsteps. The whole house smelled of the forest, and if I closed my eyes I could almost pretend I was standing in some silent grove deep within the Everfree itself. I walked into the kitchen and saw the sink was stoppered full of water; a lilypad floated on the surface.
The same clutter of unused dishes still crowded together on her kitchen table. I spent a few moments stacking them and putting them back in the cupboards. Little eyes sparkled at me from inside the dark places.
Something fluttered overhead. I spoke without turning around. “You can come out.”
A quiet croak answered. A moment later Mister Raven fell from the rafters, his wings extended, and he landed heavily on the wood table. I walked over and held out my hoof for him to tap with his beak.
“Does she leave you here to guard her home?” I asked. Of course he had no answer. But his eyes glittered with intelligence. I set my foreleg on the table, and after a moment of consideration he hopped up on it. He was heavier than I expected, and I carefully transferred him to my withers.
We walked through the dark cottage to the stairs. They curved up toward the second level, and somepony had put out little flowerpots filled with heather on every third step. They added a sweet note to the air, and I paused to check the soil in them. It was still moist.
Not abandoned at all, then. I walked up the steps, knocked on Fluttershy’s bedroom door and pushed it open without waiting for a response.
It was empty. The far window was open, the curtains billowing out into the night. I pulled them in with my magic and secured them with the curtain cord on each side. A few adventurous tendrils from the roof’s grasses tried to come in with them, and I gently pulled them free and tossed them back out.
The raven jumped from my back and flapped over to the bed, perching on the headboard. From the array of scratches in the wood beneath his claws, I guessed he spent a lot of time there. Guarding his master’s dreams, perhaps.
I hopped up on the bed with him. The sheets were rumpled but fresh. I stuck my muzzle in them and inhaled Fluttershy’s scent, of sweat and wildflowers. For a moment it was like my lost friend was there beside me.
“Hope you don’t mind if I crash here,” I said to the raven.
An enormous yawn stretched my jaws. I’d been awake since the fire at Sweet Apple Acres early in the morning, and the day was catching up to me. I needed to find Fluttershy, but I needed sleep too.
Hopefully she wouldn’t mind discovering me like this. I curled up in the sheets, in the scent of her, and closed my eyes.
It is autumn, and I am an old mare.
I feel the decades grinding like sand in my joints with every step. The climb to the highest level of the tower once only took a few minutes; now it takes the better part of an hour, and I pause halfway up the spiraling stairs to let my heart slow to a less frantic pace. My lungs wheeze with each breath, as though my throat were clogged with cotton. In the moments when I stop to consider myself, I recognize the signs of a mare with not many years left to live.
The idea of my death no longer troubles me. I know my place, my insignificance. I have served my purpose, and I think I have done so well. But when a shoe has worn out its tread it must be replaced, and so must I.
I emerge onto the roof in time to witness the sunrise. I can feel the night’s cold give way to the sun’s warming rays. They wash across me, melting the frost in my coat. I turn unerringly toward the rising sun and bask in it. For a time, sitting there atop the tower’s highest level, all my worries flee, and I am as filled with joy as the foal who proved her devotion here all those years ago. The sun sings its song to me, and my only regret is that I cannot sing back.
The tower has become a lonely place. More ghosts share its levels with me than ponies, and every year more of us are given to the fire. It is years since I have become the hierophant, the master of this holy place. And when I die our worship will come to an end.
I hear a shuffle from the stairs. Dandelion, arriving for his own morning worship. He settles by my side, close enough for our shoulders to rub together, and we spend the hour in silence, gazing at the sun as it begins its climb up from the east.
If I listen hard enough, if I tilt my ears in the proper direction and ignore the wheeze of my lungs and the stutter of my heart and Dandelion’s heart, and if the wind dies for a few minutes, I can hear the rest of the world moving without us. The town where I was born, whose name I no longer precisely recall, has grown larger. Almost a city now. I can smell the smoke from its countless hearths and hear wagon wheels grinding on the distant cobbles. Once they visited us every month, to bring a tithe and donations in return for Celestia’s favor. Now they come only rarely, selling us food and taking our gold. It is well that only Dandelion and I remain; we could not afford to feed many more.
My hour in the sun is complete, but all that lies ahead for the day is returning to the tower’s shadows and tending to the banal, animal concerns of this dying body. It must feed and defecate and sleep. I consider the march of days ahead of me, of brief, joyous hours in the sun, and countless more trudging through the dark halls below.
How much easier, I realize, to just stay here. I lift my face high again. I can feel Celestia’s warmth on my cheeks, and as unerringly as a sunflower tracks the sun’s progress I find her. Through fused eyelids and marbled scars, I imagine I can see the faintest spark of her light.
It has been years since I have seen my own reflection. But sometimes, when I am alone, I run the sensitive soles of my hooves over my face. I can feel the ruin left there by the sun. I remember the old Hierophant, the one who tested me when I first came to the tower, and how awestruck he left me. The memory strikes me now, and for a moment I can even smell the sweat and the terror of the foals who failed the test.
I reach out and find Dandelion’s shoulder. He turns toward me, a bit surprised, but makes no objection as my hooves find his cheek, and then the broad swell of his muzzle. I trace up along his eyes, feeling the pebbled, hairless skin where his eyes once were.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper.
I lean against Dandelion, and he leans back into me. Though all is dark around us, I am not lost. Instead I am filled with a euphoric joy as I realize what I have decided. I feel Dandelion’s body shake as his heart beats faster. He has made the same choice.
How wonderful it is to die in the sun.
The mattress shook as something heavy landed on it. For a disorienting moment I was trapped between the dream and the waking world. I flailed with my hooves and tried to rise, but a soft and warm weight pressed me back down.
“Easy,” Fluttershy whispered. Her lips teased my neck just below my ear. She dragged her muzzle up my cheek, brushing it against my horn like a cat. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Fluttershy.” I stopped trying to free myself, realizing who it was. I sank back into the soft mattress. “Oh, thank Celestia. I’ve been looking for you for days.”
“I heard. My animal friends said you’ve been coming around.” She lifted her head, and I followed her gaze to see Mister Raven preening himself on the headboard. He must’ve been watching me as I slept.
I tried to squirm free, but Fluttershy straddled me and sank down, pinning me against the sheets. After some clumsy gyrations I managed to roll onto my back despite her weight, which freed my legs but left us pressed belly-to-belly. It was a more intimate position than I’d ever been in my entire life, and the groggy vestiges of sleep finally vanished.
I swallowed. “Uh…”
She crossed her forelegs over my chest and set her chin on them. Despite the darkness I could see her easily, as though the room were filled with lanterns. Her mane was wild and askew, a halo of loose strands and stray pleats. It gave her an untamed look, like she was as much an animal as her animal friends. I doubted her eyes could see in the dark as well as mine, but she seemed to have no trouble focusing on me. Focusing intently on me.
“What a lovely present to come back to,” she purred. The sound buzzed in our chests. “Sneaking into mare’s beds now, Twilight? Very forward.”
“Well, you know, I didn’t want to miss you. Again. We need to talk.” I carefully lifted her and rolled to the side, sending her for a little tumble onto the mattress. She shook her wings and stretched and gave me a pout.
“Tease.” She flicked my hip with her tail. It was long and sinuous, covered with tawny down and tufted at the tip like a lion’s. She licked her paws with a too-broad tongue and used them to shape her mane back into a bit of order, then reached out to draw her claws through the fuzz of unruly coat running down my chest. Their sharp tips tickled my hide. “So…” Her hot breath washed over my neck. “What brings you here?”
Oookay. Okay. This was just Fluttershy. I could control this situation. I sat up and scooched away to the edge of the bed, leaving a channel of rumbled sheets between us. “I need to find Discord. He has to put a stop to this prank before the world falls apart. Soon we won’t even be ponies anymore. We’ll be…” I licked my lips. “We’ll be monsters.”
“Hm.” She sat up with a fluid grace I could never hope to emulate. Muscles rolled beneath her coat. A liquid in the shape of a pony. “I don’t feel like a monster.”
Monsters never did. I kept that observation to myself. “He’s turning the world upside-down. Part of his parole was agreeing not to change ponies, but he’s doing it to every one of us now. He needs to undo this madness or… Or we’ll stop him. Like we did before.”
She fixed me with her eyes. They were still the same beautiful green as always, luminous like emeralds, but her pupils were wide slits dilated for the night. “Petrify him.”
I nodded. “I don’t want to, but… yes. If he doesn’t fix this, then that’s the only way this ends. If you’re really his friend, Fluttershy, you need to make him stop.”
“What if I don’t want him to stop?” Fluttershy beat her wings, kicking up a gale that tossed the blankets off the bed and shook the curtains loose from their ties. Mister Raven squawked and jumped from one end of the headboard to the other. “What if I like what he’s doing to us, Twilight? I’m not afraid of ponies, now! Before I was always so scared, so weak and helpless, always relying on you or Rarity or Rainbow Dash to stand up for me. Do you think I want to go back to being that sniveling weakling? Having so many hopes and desires in my heart but too terrified to act on them? To do the things I want?”
She stalked closer as she spoke, closing the distance between us. I tried to back off the bed but I was far too slow; before I could take a step she had me wrapped up in her long forelegs and wings, pinned to the sheets again. Her whiskers tickled my cheek. I inhaled and drowned in the scent of wildflowers and sweat and blood.
“Am I a bad pony for wanting that? For wanting this?” she whispered. The heat of her belly was like a coal pressed against my flank. She held me another moment, her fangs just inches from my throat, and then she slowly untangled herself. She flopped beside me on the bed, all her energy seemingly spent, and stared at me in silence as I tried to calm my heart.
It was a minute before I could speak. The gentle sounds of nature intruded from outside, breaking the silence. Cicadas buzzing and trees rustling. I let their rhythms ease my mind.
“You’re not a bad pony, Fluttershy. You’re one of the best ponies I know. But there are ways to become the pony you want to be without this. Without these changes. After… after we get Discord to put things back the way they were, we can talk. We can help you be as confident as Rainbow Dash and as strong as Applejack. We’re your friends.”
She smiled, and for a moment she looked like the Fluttershy I remembered. I could ignore all the changes and just focus on that beautiful face. We could help her do all those things! We would! We could help her be the brave, forthright mare she wanted to be without Discord’s meddling.
“Thank you,” she said. She sat up but kept her distance this time. “I’ll tell Discord to find you tomorrow. He may not want to help, though.”
I sighed. “I know. I may… we may have to threaten him. But he has to put things back the way they were before they fall apart any more. In another few weeks there may be nothing left to fix.”
“Or left to break.” Her eyes travelled down my frame, from horn to tail, lingered there, then slowly retraced their journey. “Soo… if we’re done talking, you want to stay? This bed is so big. Too big for one pony all by herself, don’t think you?”
“Ah. Haha. I, uh… I would, but I told Starlight I’d be right back. You know how she worries, right? And Trixie’s in town, and I need to get ready for Discord tomorrow, and, uh, there’s other stuff too! Things I need to go do now.”
“Mm.” She stared at me, then shrugged. “Okay. I’m going to grab a snack and go to bed, I think. But if you ever change your mind, just sneak back in. You’re getting pretty good at it.”
Right. Sneaking into ponies beds at night. Something to add to my curriculum vitae. I hopped off the bed and walked over to the window, planning to just fly out. I stepped up on the windowsill and spread my wings for flight when a sudden harsh sound grabbed my ears. A flutter of wings, a loud caw cut off abruptly, and a muffled crunch of tiny, hollow bones.
I turned slowly. Shock flowed through my veins like ice water. There, on the bed, Fluttershy was reared up, her paws resting on the headboard. Her jaws worked with another crunch. A dark, feathered fan, all that remained of Mister Raven’s wing, toppled from her jaws to land on the pillow. She tilted her head back and swallowed the rest.
I’m going to grab a snack. I stared at the wing, expecting it to fly off by itself. It was all a mistake. I hadn’t just seen that.
The world started to go dark around the edges of my vision. My head felt fuzzy and distant, like it was floating away from the rest of my body. A hot rush of bile climbed up my throat, and I spat it out the window. I nearly toppled out after it, and only barely managed to cling to the sill.
After a minute, when I no longer felt about to faint, I looked back at Fluttershy. The wing was gone now, and except for a few stray black feathers, nothing remained of Mister Raven. She licked her paws and used them to brush away the blood on her muzzle.
I found my voice, but it was just a croak. “Did you ever find that animal friend, Fluttershy? The one you were looking for?”
She took her time before answering. Maybe there were feathers in her mouth, still. But finally she nodded. “I did. She was always there, Twilight, crouching at the door of my heart. All I had to do was let her in.”
I waited for more, but she was done. She curled up on the sheets, gave me a final long look with half-lowered eyes, then yawned and tucked her head beneath her wing. Her chest rose and fell in the easy rhythm of sleep.
We could still stop this. This didn’t have to be how things ended.
I jumped out into the night.