Written by: Aurora
“The usual, ma'am?”
“Please,” Rarity told the proprietor of Ponyville's Finest Floral Shoppe, with a polite little dip of her horn.
The usual bouquet was, unfortunately, quite heavy; in fact, it seemed to be getting heavier every time. Rarity would have loved to have simply kept the massive collection of roses, lilies and carnations afloat in front of her with her magic, instead of having to strain the muscles in her poor jaw and neck by having to carry it herself. But the last thing she wanted to do was tarnish those pristinely white flowers by – perish the thought! – accidentally dropping them when, almost inevitably, her increasingly unreliable magic would briefly sputter out.
It was quite a relief when she finally arrived at her destination and, after a bit of searching and near-sighted squinting, managed to spot the familiar cutie mark. Even after all these years, those three butterflies still managed to bring a smile to her face. So many fond memories...
“Here we are, darling,” she said, more than happy to finally be rid of the excessive floral arrangement, not to mention sit down on her haunches for a bit. “I think they'd look lovely over here, wouldn't you agree?”
Rarity didn't wait for a reply, but carefully placed the bouquet on what, to her, was undeniably the most aesthetically-pleasing spot. Then she took a moment to patiently arrange, and subsequently rearrange, a few wayward petals and stems. A number of stray, dirty old leaves, just laying around and cluttering up the place, were also quickly dispatched. (At the very least, when it came to such menial tasks, her magic still served her well enough.)
Then, at last, she turned her attention back to Fluttershy.
Or what remained of her, at least.
“I miss you, darling,” Rarity said softly, her voice wavering slightly. It always did, no matter how many times she said it.
With a melancholy smile, she ran a well-worn hoof over the cold stone below which her beloved slept.
She recalled how, the first few times she had come to visit this place, she had actually been embarrassed to speak, afraid that other visitors might think her a batty old cat lady – a stigma she was now quite fond of applying to herself, albeit with tongue firmly in cheek. These days she spent most of her time chatting to herself anyway...
“I think I shall swing by Sweetie Belle's later on, after a spot of tea,” she mused. “Her daughter is coming over, and I'd love to see how she's getting on with the new foal.” The old mare shook her head wearily, chuckling to herself in a cheerfully-curmudgeonly sort of way. “I suppose I shall soon be expected to sit for that little grandcolt, too, given how my dear little sister and that good-for-nothing husband of hers are far too busy travelling all over Equestria again, like they used to do in their glory days.” She tsked. “And that at their age!”
She paused, then, as a particularly heavy gust of autumn wind blew by, toying with the wispy strands of gray that had somehow escaped the tidy knot in her mane and chilling her to the bone. Shivering, she drew her fashionable-but-functional scarf a little closer around her withers.
“Where would they be without me...”
She stood and stared at the beautiful grave a little longer, lost in thought, before getting up and turning to trot away.
“Well... see you again in a little while, my love.”
But 'little whiles' could last for years upon years, of course – Rarity knew this all too well.
And later that day, after tea had been sipped, and newborns had been cooed over, and sagely advice had been dispensed, and a dwindling collection of cats had been taken proper care of, the retired fashionista once again found herself standing in the bedroom of the now-far-too-large old cottage, facing yet another night of fitful sleep in that big, two-pony bed.
Alone.
“Sleep tight,” she told the empty spot beside her, before closing her eyes.
But in the middle of the night, a strange smile played along her white, withered lips, lighting up her lined face. It was smile of recognition, of joy.
One last sigh of relief escaped her, as of one who had completed a long and arduous journey and was now, at long last, allowed to rest.
Rarity had finally gotten her wish.