The dying candle did little to illuminate the bedchamber. Its diffuse orange aura tinged the canopied bed, and barely reached far enough to paint the pale walls with light. A six-pointed star-shaped crest was proudly hung above the headboard. Innumerable bouquets lay half-wilted at the foot of the bed. Various pill bottles were strewn about the nightstand and floor. A pole supporting an IV bag was propped up against the corner of the room.
Three picture frames were propped up on the nightstand. They stood proudly amidst the crumpled petals and the scattered capsules. The first, in a simple little worn-out frame, was a photograph of a young unicorn colt and filly. The colt’s foreleg was wrapped around the filly’s shoulder.
The second was in a far more ornate frame. It depicted the male unicorn, the colt now stallion, beside a gorgeous mare. Their horns were crossed, with rings placed upon them. In the background were numerous others, all brimming with joy.
The third depicted the same two, alongside a colt and filly. They all wore candid smiles. The stallion’s face and frame showed the years elapsed. However, the mare showed no signs of the passing of the decade or so between them.
The only sound was the labored breathing of a stallion tucked beneath the covers, with only his face exposed to the dim light. His white-streaked gray mane was delicately combed behind his head. His face retained solely an insinuation of that remarkable strength it once had. Though his once azure eyes had grayed, and his well-sculpted cheeks now sagged, there still was some fight in that old stallion. At least, that is what the doctor told his significant other.
She sat beside the bed, overlooking her beloved. Each gravelly breath he took elicited from her a silent sob. Her lengthy colorful mane was nearly sodden with tears. Her wings were pressed tightly to her sides. She coughed, choking on the immense lump in her throat. She swallowed hard but it was to no avail.
He shifted slightly beneath the covers. His glazed-over eyes slowly focused on the eternally young bride beside him. She lifted her head and brushed her mane out of her face with her hoof. She nodded her head once and blinked contemplatively. He returned the same expression.
It was known between them. It was all evident, it seemed. With each breath and each weak little flicker of the candle, the sparkle in his eyes dwindled. With each drip of hot wax onto the nightstand his body shuttered. It was almost time.
From the very moment the two rings were placed on their horns, they had envisioned this moment. They mutually thought of their whole lives imagining every move they could make, and vividly pondered the end. There was no way that it could have been anything but what it was. It would always have to be a wrinkled shell of a warrior releasing his last few breaths while tucked beneath the comforter and the tears of his ageless bride. Neither had spoken this sentiment to the other. It was expressed in the creaking of old, worn out and wearied bones, and in the drying of the stallion’s throat. The moment that now was between them was always looming, approaching its apex ever closer with each graying hair and each forming wrinkle.
She raised her head and opened her mouth to speak. She could not muster a sound. He slipped a hoof out from under the comforter and placed it on hers. She managed to make a slight mumble. Silence began to feel oppressive. One word desperately wanted to make its way beyond her lips. It struggled frantically as if gasping for breath. It took form in the air.
“Shining?”
The stallion lowered his head slightly in a weak nod.
“I know this probably isn’t what you want, but…”
His irises quivered as she spoke.
“Can I just… feel you again? One last time?”
A tear rolled down Shining Armor’s face as he gave another slight nod. She lifted herself off of the chair and climbed into the bed, slipping under the comforter with her beloved. She caressed the side of his face with her hoof, brushing a stray lock of gray hair away. He managed to lift his hooves up and wrap them around her. She shifted close to him and pulled her face close to his.
She gave him a delicate kiss on his wrinkled leathery cheek and pulled him towards her. She felt his sandpapery muzzle against her marble-smooth cheek as she nuzzled against him. She lifted herself above him and kissed his thin neck. She rubbed his shoulder lightly, feeling the jagged bone beneath with her hoof.
Her hind legs wrapped around what remained of the stallion’s once-muscled thighs. She leaned slightly to the side, pulling him down gently so his flank pressed against the plush mattress. She gripped him tightly, pulling herself as close as she could to him. She draped her head over his neck, tickled slightly by the lengthy grey locks that formed a curtain around her eyes. She brushed her muzzle against the back of his head.
He inhaled shakily as he attempted to return the gesture. He exhaled, coughing heavily, his scratchy throat releasing a nauseating cacophony. Cadance gasped and pulled her head back. Shining Armor shook and jolted forward, jerking the comforter out of its place and tumbling its edges onto the floor.
His coughing eventually ceased. He looked up to Cadance, the tears rolling over the wrinkles in his visage. He looked into her amethyst eyes, his lips creased in a tiny smile. She held her body above him, with her hooves pressed hard onto the mattress around him. Tears dripped onto his tired face, and locks of her hair brushed them away as she shook her head, trying to force the same expression. She lowered her shoulders and kissed his wet cheek.
The aegis had long since lost its luster. With one last tender kiss the last of its sparkles washed away. His head tipped back and rested on the pillow. The sound of skin-wrapped bone striking cushion, though nearly silent, made the alicorn wince. She pulled her forelegs back and pressed them tightly against her sides. She shivered and rolled the edge of the bed. Her limbs were disheveled and bent around her body, her wings were splayed beneath her body and pressed against the tile, but she could not feel the pain of her twisted joints. She lay as she was.
Love wept that next morning.