The first of many park lamps flickered on with the fall of night, directing a moth or two to flitter about the golden glow. Below, on a lone bench, two mares lingered in solemn conversation.
"And as you can see..." Rarity sniffled as she rubbed her cheek dry. "I am far from a generous mare, especially since I am apt to withhold all of that."
Pinkie Pie blinked, shaking her head sympathetically. "I don't think you're being anti-generous, Rare-Rare. After all, you just told me, didn't ya?"
"Yes, but with you it's different, darling." Rarity gave her a fragile smile. "You're my friend, and to be perfectly honest, I'm certain I expressed myself simply to get the weight off my shoulders."
"And did it help any? Huh?"
Rarity winced. "Only partially..."
"Awww..." Pinkie's ears drooped. "And here I thought I was being a merciful mare-do-winner."
"Don't be silly." Rarity smiled. "Well, sillier than usual." She patted Pinkie's hoof and said, "You know, you can be a great deal calm and receptive when you put your heart and mind to it, Pinkie."
"Well, of course!" Pinkie fluffed her mane with a worrisome expression. "I care for all my buddies! Especially when they've lost their buds!"
"I just..." Rarity hid her face in her hooves. "Mmmmfff... I simply do not know what to do about it all. It's piled on and on throughout the years, and now I feel as though I might burst apart at the seams." She sniffled. "Figuratively, m-mind you."
Pinkie looked down at her squirming hooves. "Uhm... actually, Rarity? I kinda sorta think you do know what to do about this."
Rarity peaked at her through her pale forelimbs.
"I just think you're a bit of a scaredy cat about it... about bringing it up to Sweetie Belle, I mean." Pinkie cleared her throat as a glazed expression fell over her blue eyes. "Just like I'm... sc-scared to talk to my Mommy and Daddy."
"Your parents?" Rarity lowered her hooves completely. Her face stretched with concern. "Whatever for, darling?"
"You know how I'm annoying around you and the rest of the girls some of the time?"
"It... has come to my attention on occasion." Rarity tried not to smirk.
"Well, back at home, I used to be annoying all of the time." Pinkie shrugged. "At least, I guess so, because my family kicked me out of there—rocks and all."
Rarity let loose an airy chuckle. "Oh, Pinkie, they did not!"
Pinkie stared at Rarity.
Rarity blinked.
Pinkie continued staring.
A shudder ran through Rarity's body. "Oh dear."
Pinkie gulped. "They don't like to talk about it. Then again, they don't like to talk about much of anything. Mrs. Cake tells them all that they need to know about me, but she does it through letters and gift packages n’tuff. Sometimes, it's as if she thinks I don't know about it. But I do. I just never thought it was a big deal. But then, I realized that I was beginning to annoy her and Mr. Cake. Big time." She bit her lip. "And then you and Twilight and the Mayor..."
"It's simply the death of Miss Hooves, Pinkie Pie," Rarity said. "It's gotten us all out of sorts. Quite frankly, we haven't been in the mood for the usual levity. That's all."
"But what if it's more than that?" Pinkie tilted her head up with a quivering lip. "What if—like—you guys want nothing to do with me anymore?" The edges of her eyes glistened. "What if you all decide that I'm just a nasty noisy nuisance and want to kick me out of Ponyville?"
"Pinkie Pie..."
"J-just like my family d-did?"
"Darling, look at me." Rarity grabbed Pinkie's hooves and forced the two of them to sit face to face. The fashionista's eyes were solid as sapphires. "You are a treasured part of our lives, a joy to our each passing day, and the very last thing we will ever want to do with you is throw you away like some piece of rubbish. You're more than that; you're more precious than diamonds."
"But, when you guys shoo me away like I'm a buzzing bug—?!"
"Friends are still ponies, and ponies are far from perfect." Rarity smiled softly. "You think I would continuously strive to embody grace and beauty if I already mastered such qualities?"
"Uh... sure...?"
Rarity chuckled. "I am always seeking to improve myself, Pinkie Pie, and I'm not alone. I have friends like you to help me, to humble me. Are you truly annoying from time to time? Well, that cannot be denied, but I suspect that you are seeking to improve yourself too, and as bumpy a road as it may be at times, this is still our journey... one that is taken together. And I do deeply apologize for selfishly wanting to bump you off the wagon from time to time."
Pinkie smiled. "And I forgive you for letting me fall over the edge of this sudden magical thoughtcoach!" Her face twisted. "Wherever it rolled in from!"
"Heheheh..." Rarity stroked Pinkie's hoof. "I suppose I should throw in less metaphors when I am engaging in a heart-to-heart conversation."
"No! It's totally okay!" Pinkie chirped. "See?! We're being honest with each other! That's totally a nifty thing!" She sighed. "If only that was what Mrs. Cake and my parents wanted."
"Yes..." Rarity nodded solemnly towards the blossoming stars overhead. "I suppose that would most definitely improve things in your household."
"Yeah..." Pinkie Pie said. After a few seconds, her eyes darted towards her friend. "Rarity?"
"Hmmm?"
"I really think you should try being honest and upfront with Sweetie Belle too," Pinkie Pie said. "And not just because it's super generous, but because it will make things better in your household. After all, you're my friend, and Sweetie Belle is the adoracute squeaky little sister to my friend."
Rarity bit her lip, allowing her gaze to fall.
Pinkie Pie leaned in. "And I think it will make things better for the both of you. Especially since..." Her face grimaced. "And I really, really don't like being a deep downer downpony, but, what happened to Miss Hooves could happen to any of us... at anytime." She gulped. "So... uh... Canter Diem?" She grinned with bright teeth that reflected the stars.
Rarity smiled weakly, reaching forward to fluff Pinkie's mane. "You know, darling, you're a great deal more mature than you let on."
"Huh?"
"I mean anypony who ever compares you to a 'baby filly' should be hung, if I may be so bold."
"Well, duh!" Pinkie Pie rolled her eyes. "I don't wear diapers anymore!"
"Heheh... there you go..."
Pinkie blushed as she gazed over her shoulder. "Most of the time..."
WEDNESDAY NIGHT
A cold wind blew over the moonswept leaves of endless apple trees. Atop a hill overlooking Sweet Apple Acres, Applejack lay in a disheveled heap. The shadows of a sorrowful day hung off every hair of her body. She stirred every now and then, if only to wipe off flakes of grass that had randomly decided to cling to the edges of her tearstained muzzle.
At last, something shifted, slowly plodding up the hill with crunching hoofsteps. It was the first semblance of noise Applejack had heard in hours. She opened her eyes, almost startled to discover that it was already nighttime. Pivoting about, she squinted down the grassy knoll, relieved to see a sheen of wrinkled skin in the moonlight. Nevertheless, a part of her fumed, then muttered, "Granny? Huh. I thought y'all had forgotten about me."
The old mare came to a stop. "Reckon ya wanted us to, darlin'."
Applejack immediately winced. With a sigh, she slumped back down, resting her chin on her forelimbs.
Granny Smith limped over to the tree and stood beside her. "Ya left us there at the breakfast table, AJ. Ya left yer family, ya left yer porridge cold, and—most frightenin' of all—ya left yer hat." She plopped the brown article in question down beside Applejack's red cutie mark. "I gotsta stay, that's mighty worryin', don'tcha think?"
Applejack sniffled, smiling somewhat as she dragged the hat over in front of her and gave it a light squeeze. "Thanks, Granny. I... I-I don't know what got into me."
"Well, that's a shame." Granny grunted breathily as she rested her weary bones and slumped down at Applejack's side. "Cuz I was hopin' ya might fill me in a bit."
"T'ain't nothin' to it." Applejack shook her head, growing misty-eyed once more. "I was a bad sport this mornin', Granny. I snapped at you and Big Macintosh and Apple Bloom... like y'all were timber wolves attackin' the livestock. And what for?" She shuddered. "Nothin', that's what. I'm so sorry. Can we just pretend like it never happened?"
"You know that it weren't nothin', AJ," Granny Smith said. "Shucks, you know better than the rest of us, which is what brought me up here. I reckon you have plenty of things t'say."
"I don't, Granny! Really!" Applejack sniffled and fidgeted with her hat, trying to put it on her head in the dark, but suddenly forgetting how to. "Just give me a minute and I'll help your weary legs back to the house. It's probably gettin' close to bedtime anyways and tomorrow's the big funeral for—"
"Applejack, be honest," Granny Smith chided.
Applejack bit her lip. She dropped the hat, and then her face, sighing into the springy grass below. "I can't hide anythang from you, Granny. I'm a big ol' sad mess."
"Well, I know my eyes are failin' me these days, darlin', but anypony can certainly see that."
"What do you want from me?"
"Well, what do you got to give?"
Applejack stirred uneasily. "I’ve got everythang to give, Granny. I have given everythang." She flung her moist gaze towards the old mare. "And I love it! I've made a life doin' all I can for this family! And I'd do it all over again if I had to! It's... it's what makes me what I am, I suppose."
"Then why the sad eyes, darlin'?" Granny Smith leaned in and rested a bony forelimb on the mare's side. "What's eatin' you up somethin' awful?"
"I just..." Applejack gazed back down the hilltop. "I get so wrapped up at times. And then I have these... these wakin' moments when I look at all I've done. And while it's all so special, sometimes... well... sometimes it's not..."
"Do you regret workin' on the farm all your life?"
"No! I mean..." Applejack winced. "No, I don't think so."
"'Cuz we gave ya an opportunity, darlin'," Granny Smith said. "When you was just a little sprout, we let you visit yer Aunt and Uncle Orange in Manehattan."
"And we know how well that worked out," Applejack muttered. "Don't we?"
"Well?"
Applejack blinked, then gazed softly back at her grandmother. "When I first found out about Derpy dyin', Granny, I was doin' farmwork. I was buckin' and harvestin' apples, just as always. But when the news hit me, somethin' just... felt off about it all. I reckon it was 'cuz I found out so sudden-like, and after every other pony in town already knew about it. It seemed... it felt wrong to have been the last pony to know. After all these years, I've come to respect and care for the ponies of Ponyville. And suddenly, I was the last pony to be bothered with such sad and tragic news. And why? Because I was wrapped up in apples? I'm always wrapped up in apples! This farm is my lifeblood! This land is in my blood! It's..." Her voice trailed off.
Granny Smith watched her patiently, weathering a gust or two of cold wind.
Applejack gulped. "And then..." She murmured, "Apple Bloom and Big Mac: they just shrugged the news off like it weren't none of their business. But shouldn't it be important to them? Shouldn't it be important to all of us? When Tuesday mornin' came, I galloped straight to Twilight's home. I didn't really know why at the time, but I rambled to her like a haybrained idiot. I wanted to offer something—anything—to the sad situation, but as I stood there at the Princess' doorstep, I realized that I didn't feel bad about Derpy's death. Only, I wanted to feel bad... as if to be concerned was a job, a chore... just like harvestin' apples or tendin' to the livestock are chores. Why couldn't I make myself genuinely concerned? When did I... j-just stop feelin', Granny?"
The elder held her head, sighing slightly. "I reckon it's my fault, darlin'."
Applejack flung her a confused look. "You? How could it be yer fault?!"
"I'm the oldest in the Apple Family, Applejack. You know this. It's my job to see that the household prospers, not just the farm."
"Granny, I was the one who stood there by Ma and Pa's deathbed!" Applejack sniffled. "I was the one who promised to be strong for the family and make the orchards bloom!"
"And who was with ya every step of the way, girl?" Granny Smith's wrinkled brow furrowed. "Who was lettin' ya keep yer nose to the plow?"
Applejack's mouth hung open, but she was temporarily speechless.
Granny Smith filled the moment instead. "Apple Bloom's too young to remember the way the farm was before her folks passed, and she can't rightly tell how well it's done afterwards. And Big Macintosh—bless his kind heart—he took the deaths way harder than you or even I ever did. He's easily the strongest of us on the outside, but his insides are all bunched up and tangled. Ya don't need me tellin' ya how quiet he's become, how gentle and pensive and downright full of butterflies his stomach gets around other ponies half his size. He's capable of so many things, but he needs guidance, just 'cuz. And you?"
Granny Smith took a shuddering breath and reached forward to caress her granddaughter's muzzle.
"Precious, sweet 'lil Applejack, the star of her mother's eye... and of mine." She sniffled. "Such a dainty, silly little pony. And yet, overnight, you turned into something greater. Somethin' amazin'. Somethin' stronger than I've ever been in my life or any Apple Family mare in a dozen lives previous. Darlin', I never wanted you to become the farm's packhorse. I could tell from an early age that you had the selfless heart of an angel, and when yer folks died, it broke my heart, because I knew that your future was already spelled out for ya, and there was nothin' I could do to stop it. Though, Celestia knows, I should have tried... at least tried harder than havin' ya visit Manehattan when ya only wanted to be home, grievin' over yer folks."
"Granny..." Applejack stammered, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I took over this farm because I wanted to! For Ma and Pa! Because I wanted to!"
"I know that, darlin'. But I also know that when you set yer mind to somethin', yer heart and body are bound to follow. And in all the years that have gone by, none of it's let up. T'ain't healthy; I don't care who you promised what. You were meant to live a bright and happy life, not just the shadow to ponies who are long dead and buried. I loved my son and daughter-in-law. I still do. I cherish their memories each and every day, but I know that yer livin' as more than a memory now, and I wanna help you while I can, before I up and leave to go to the same place yer friend Miss Hooves did."
"But we're doin' alright for ourselves!" Applejack exclaimed. "Our apples, our farm, our finances! We're doin' better than we've ever done before!"
"Applejack..."
"What I've done, I've done for this family! And... it sh-shows, doesn't it?"
"Applejack, I know you've sweat and bled and labored yer legs off for the rest of us," Granny Smith said. "And there's nothin' wrong in bein' proud of that. But just because somethin' is plum painful don't make it righteous." She gulped. "I know you've been the very model of a strong and dependable pony, AJ, but I also think you've found yerself a wicked little comfort zone."
"Comfort... zone...?"
"And it's a familiar place we've all snuggled up to, I reckon," Granny said in a remorseful tone, her eyes reflecting the distant moonlight. "Plowin' this land, buckin' the apple trees, pluckin' the fruit day in and day out. It's easy to make our concerns our concerns and Equestria's concerns Equestria's concerns. And, sure, we give it a gab with our neighbors every now and then, help raise barns, visit with friends and attend festivals. But in the end, we're still holed up here, all turtle-like, as if our front door is open just for show. That's why I'm so glad you've made these really sweet mare friends over the past few years, darlin'. It's given me hope..."
"Hope?" Applejack squinted at her. "Hope for what?"
Granny looked back. "That even though you've made this land what it is, you won't let the land make you. Yer a young, beautiful mare, AJ, but you won't be forever. Take it from me. There comes a time when all you ever do is look back, and I don't want you reachin' that point like I did, treatin' each death of a friend like a thunderclap that grows more and more distant with age, that clears and is gone like a cold spring evenin', like there was nothin' ever there to begin with."
"I..." Applejack gulped. "I-I never realized it was like that for you..."
"And I never felt like relatin' it," Granny Smith said with a bitter smile. "Mostly because yer my ray of sunshine, d-darlin'." She sniffled, and her voice wavered. "You and Big Mac and Apple Bloom. You make each day worth livin', and I love y’all somethin' fierce." She bore a teary frown. "But that's just plum selfish to keep to myself. After all, you got more of a future than me."
"Oh, Granny—"
She pressed her hoof firmly against Applejack's forelimb. "And I think it's time you asked yerself what it is that you want. What it is that you really want, beyond just the farm... beyond just the day to day routine. Beyond yer comfort zone, darlin', what do you want to gain from this life?"
Applejack's mouth hung open. She turned to gaze at the heavens as another tear trickled down her cheek. "I... I-I want to start a family of my own, Granny..."
The elder nodded, patting Applejack's shoulder.
"I..." Applejack rubbed her cheeks, crying. "I want t-to raise foals. I want to give th-them a life of happiness and promise. I want to g-give them what my folks wanted to give me, but c-couldn't. I want to be a part of other ponies' lives, so I can give them the bounties of all that this farm has given us. I-I just... I just want to feel with them... and through them. I can be strong and do that at the same time, can't I-I?" Applejack stared back at Granny Smith with a quivering lip. "Is that too much to ask?"
"Oh darlin', it's never too much." Granny Smith smiled and leaned in to nuzzle her. Applejack embraced her with shaky limbs, through which the elder murmured, "Ya silly pony. Yer the last soul I'd ever call selfish in this dag-blame'd town."
Applejack buried her face in Granny's wrinkled coat. "I'm so sorry. I'm not givin' up on you and Big Mac and Apple Bloom! I promise! I just... I-I just need more. I want to feel m-more..."
"And I reckon we'll all get a chance to feel too, darlin'..." Granny Smith sniffled as a tear rolled down her smiling, proud face. "We've always followed yer example, haven't we?"
Applejack chuckled—with laughter that turned into a weightless giggle as she sobbed happily into the cold night, made warm by Granny Smith's dear hug.
"There there... let's get you inside so you can wash this lonely off ya, shall we?" Granny Smith pulled Applejack to her hooves and led the mare gently down the hill. "After all, a home should be all about healin', don'tcha think?"
"Yes... I reckon so, Granny," Applejack smiled weakly as she took charge, lending her weight for Granny to lean on. "I reckon so."
THURSDAY MORNING – DAY OF THE FUNERAL
"There." Twilight pointed at a diagram, then at the open space of the Town Hall interior that had been cleared away by several workers. "The podium and the casket should be placed in that spot. The chairs should be at a distance, closer to the south wall, so that when the eulogy has been read and the ponies have filed up to pay their initial respects, we can then move the chairs to the side for the rest of the wake. We'll have reopened the doors to Town Hall by that point."
"Very well done, Yer Highness," the Mayor said, adjusting her glasses as she gazed over the alicorn's shoulder. All around her, mares and stallions were dressing the place up with black velvet curtains and modest floral arrangements. "Uhm, about the other part of Miss Hooves' will, didn't it say—?"
Twilight nodded. "There'll be... erm... refreshments for those in attendance. For the extent of the wake, that is. Uhm..." She glanced towards the coffin-sized space in the center of the building. "I just made a slight adjustment. I don't think the ponies should be smelling baked muffins at the start of the ceremony. Something about it wouldn't... well... wouldn't be right."
"And who's baking them? Seems like a tall order."
"Mrs. Cake is," Twilight said. "At no expense too."
"Wow. That's incredibly gracious of her."
"I agree." Twilight nodded. "It's remarkable how so many ponies have stepped up to the plate, and all for the memory of one single mailmare."
"Your contributions certainly won't go unnoticed, Your Highness," the Mayor said. "You've researched the deceased pony's will, followed through with her funeral arrangements, managed this entire undertaking, and are even delivering the eulogy."
"I simply wanted to make sure that no detail got ignored."
"I know that, Your Highness, but even still..."
"Huh?"
The Mayor squirmed slightly. "Well, I don't mean to come across as forward—"
"In what way?"
The older pony gulped, adjusted her collar, and smiled nervously. "Well, with all the planning and all of the stressful preparations, have you... h-have you... uhm..."
"Have I what?"
"Have you... f-found time to mourn, yourself, Your Majesty?"
Twilight squinted at her.
The Mayor jerked back, wide-eyed. "Oh! That was out of place, wasn't it? I'm so sorry, Princess. I won't ask such a thing again—!"
"No no no, it's fine. I'm just confused a bit by the question," Twilight Sparkle remarked. "What makes you think I'm not mourning?"
"Well..."
"I've been working around the clock trying to get everything in order!" Twilight gestured towards the modest decorations being hung around them. "I mean, obviously I care very much about what happened to Miss Hooves!"
The Mayor smiled and nodded... nodded.
"I mean..." Twilight winced slightly. "R-right?"
The Mayor sweated slightly, but before she could open her mouth—
"Twilight!" Fluttershy blurred in through the open doors on gliding wings. "There you are!"
"Fluttershy!" Twilight spun about with a grin. "You're here!" She blinked. "And you're flying. Fast."
"I have to speak with you! It's urgent!" Fluttershy blinked, then sagged towards the floor with drooping wings. "Er... I-I mean, if that's alright with you, Your Highness—"
"Fluttershy..." Twilight sighed. "We've been through this. There's no need for—" She froze in mid-speech.
Fluttershy's eyes were teary. Her muzzle threatened to burst with a sob at any second.
Twilight blinked. "What... wh-what's happened?"
Fluttershy gulped. "Twilight, it's Dinky." She motioned out the door. "Please. You have to come see." She flew the same way which she came.
Twilight Sparkle levitated her clipboard of diagrams to the Mayor. "Here, ma'am. I have to tend to this."
"But of c-course!"
"I'll be back well before the funeral goes underway this afternoon. I promise." And in a bolt of magically-induced flight, she followed her pegasus friend towards the far end of town.
The Mayor watched with a lonesome gaze, hugging the clipboard to her gray chest.
Mrs. Cake trudged down the steps of her home, yawning. "Mmmff... Thought... Th-thought I set the alarm for two hours earlier. Nnnngh..." She rubbed her eyes as she reached the bottom floor to Sugarcube Corner. "Oh well. I still have plenty of time before... the muffins... must... be ready?" She froze in place, her face scrunching up as she sniffed at the air. "That... that aroma? Is that? Is that...?!"
A gasp ran through her body like a knife. Her pupils shrunk.
"Pinkie!" Dashing on blurred hooves, Mrs. Cake rounded the corner and burst through the swinging doors of the kitchen. "Pinkie, no! What have you—?!" She froze in place.
The kitchen was cluttered, thought it was anything but a mess. Besides two steaming ovens, rows upon rows of golden-brown muffins lay toasted in neatly arranged sheets. The entire body of Sugarcube Corner brimmed with the pleasant scent of blueberries, cinnamon, and glazed sugar. Trotting across the tile floor in an exhausted limp, Pinkie Pie carried a freshly baked tray of muffins onto a tabletop with a mouth mit. Upon seeing Mrs. Cake, she didn't jump or cartwheel or sing. Instead, she placed the tray down, spat out the mit, and smiled dazedly across the thoroughly used bakery.
"Good m-morning, Mrs. Cake." Pinkie Pie said with a cute yawn before clamping her mouth forcibly shut with two bright hooves. "Erm... s-sorry if I woke you up. I promise that I didn't mean to." She glanced demurely down at her legs. Every other inch of her coat was covered with the splatter of bread dough and baking powder. "It was the smell, wasn't it? I'm surprised. I always thought your dreams were scrumptious enough."
"Pinkie..." Mrs. Cake trotted the rest of the way into the kitchen, gazing wide-eyed at the massive arrangement of baked goods all around her. "This... this is... is..."
"Pleasedon'tbemad!" Pinkie Pie waved her forelimbs, her blue eyes round and soft. "Mrs. Cake, I know that it's probably a big mess and you're probably wanting to yell at me in such a way that would wake your handsome husband and adorably bouncing babies but please—pleasepleasepleeeeease—hear me out for one single, measly, super-squeezy-tiny little second, pretty please?"
Mrs. Cake stood dead-still, her mouth agape. "You... you were up all night doing this?"
"Mmmmhmmm." Pinkie Pie gulped, clasping her hooves together in a "praying" fashion. "You see, I know that I can be really annoying and... uhm... ram bunnies at times."
"'Rambunctious,' Pinkie."
"Yeah!" Pinkie nodded and pointed. "That! But, uh, I kind of know why that is. It's because it feels better to be doing stuff all the time. But that's okay for me, y'know? Cuz I like being busy. And happy. But... it's okay to feel sad too. I just don't quite get it like other ponies do, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. So, I thought 'Hey! Why not do all of Mrs. Cake's work for the funeral so that she can spend all day feeling sad like she wants to!' And, to be perfectly honest, it didn't make a yummy lick of sense to me, but then again a lot of things don't, so I decided to just go with my gut... instead of... uh... j-just filling my gut, which is what I usually do when I'm baking, b-but not this time! Honest!" She finished her speech with a flinching expression, clenching her teeth hard beneath folded ears as she braced for the unthinkable.
Mrs. Cake made a few more trots closer. "Pinkie, this was... very thoughtful of you. As odd as it may seem—"
"I didn't do it just to be thoughtful! I did it for the muffins! And the ponies who will be eating the muffins!" She stretched a forelimb outrageously far to the side, snatched up a golden treat, and hoofed it to the older mare. "Here! Try it out! I promise that I put all of my baking skills into it! The good skills, I mean!"
Mrs. Cake looked at the treat, at Pinkie, then at the muffin again. Nervously, she picked it up in her hoof, lifted it to her muzzle for a little sniff, then gave the thing a nervous nibble.
Pinkie Pie watched, rocking back and forth on her rear legs.
Mrs. Cake blinked, then narrowed her gaze. "Why..." She gulped and murmured, "It's delicious."
"Aaaaaaaaand?"
"Not... not very sugary, though."
"Righto!" Pinkie Pie wagged her eyebrows. "Cuz it's a funeral, right? And—uhh—too much sweetness wouldn't be a very proper thing, now would it?"
Mrs. Cake was silent.
"But, like, I-I made another sample that's sweeter!" Pinkie fumbled tiredly over a nearby table, trying to grasp one particular tray of muffins from all the others. "And I promise that these don't have exploding or re-lighting confetti candles! Just try them out and lemme know if you want me to ditch all the rest that I made—"
Mrs. Cake placed the half-eaten muffin onto the table, trotted over, and gave Pinkie a fierce hug.
"Eeep!" Pinkie flinched, then fluttered her eyes at the mare. "Mrs... Cake...?"
"The sweetest thing is having you around, Pinkie Pie," she said, nuzzling her closely. "Thank you for doing this. You didn't have to, but... I thank you."
Pinkie Pie smiled delicately. "You mean I didn't mess things up this time?"
Mrs. Cake chuckled, shaking her head as she lifted her face to smile at Pinkie. "Not at all, darling."
Pinkie was biting her own lip. "Aaaaaaand you're not gonna yell at me?"
"I admit that I have been on edge this week, Pinkie," Cup Cake sighed. "But it's no excuse for you to guard yourself with every single thing you say or do, especially when you're only trying to help the situation."
"Well, that's kind of good! Because... y'know, I..." Pinkie winced slightly. "I really enjoy making you and Mr. Cake proud of me." She gulped and stared dully to the side. "It's not like I can do the same to Mommy and Daddy anymore."
Upon hearing that, Mrs. Cake's mouth fell. Her eyes turned glossy as she turned to the side.
Pinkie saw the change in her expression. "Mrs. Cake...?"
Cup Cake trotted down the rows of baked muffins. "Your father is... is far from perfect, Pinkie. But he's not alone." She gulped. "I took on the responsibility of bringing you here, to Ponyville, a town far more suitable to your energy and attitude. But..." She leaned against a piece of the kitchen counter as a shudder ran through her body. "I've made a lot of mistakes too. Selfish mistakes. And I'm sorry for that."
"Oh, I forgive you, Mrs. Cake!" Pinkie bounced towards her side with little hops. "I could never be mad at you!"
"That's just it!" Mrs. Cake spun about with a teary expression. "You're always so... so kind and gracious and forgiving, Pinkie!" She sniffled. "And I... I-I've taken advantage of that! I've never treated you like the adult mare that you are, but instead used your foalish energy and enthusiasm as an excuse to dismiss you time and time again!" More tears fell as she shook her head. "And that's been downright cruel of me! I know that I'm capable of more patience with a pony like you! I... I've had no excuse..."
"Mrs. Cake..." Pinkie stammered, her mouth hanging open. "Nopony can... Nopony should have to feel like being around me is a chore!" She gulped. "I know I'm pretty good at making ponies smile, but that doesn't mean everypony wants to smile all the time! I..." She winced slightly. "I can't quite wrap my fluffy head around that, but I'm starting to... because I want to."
"And I want to understand the well of energy you've magically tapped since birth, but most of the time—I can't, Pinkie Pie," Mrs. Cake said, rubbing her cheek dry. "But, up 'til just recently, I've not understood the cost that's at stake."
"I don't get it. What changed?"
"Pumpkin... Pound Cake..." Mrs. Cake sniffled again, although this time she smiled. "They've come into my life and filled me with so much meaning and purpose. And I realize now that what I've done will directly affect their future, because I'm able to witness them grow. And you..." Mrs. Cake shuddered. "Even if you've grown, you still have a future too, Pinkie Pie. And I don't want to mess that up any." She swallowed and frowned. "And most certainly not in the way that my brother has. You've given this town so much to be joyful for. You deserve more."
"I'm happy, Mrs. Cake."
"Pinkie..."
"I'm happy." Pinkie Pie trotted forward and gently clasped the mare's hooves with her own. "But what would make me even happier is to know that you're happy too." She smiled gently. "And that I've had something to do with that, without messing things up!"
Mrs. Cake fidgeted guiltily. "I... I don't know if I can make that work on my own, Pinkie. Celestia knows I've tried, and I feel like the one who keeps messing up..."
Pinkie tongued the inside of her mouth, then gasped. "Hey! Why don't we just be honest with each other, huh?"
"Be... honest..."
"Yeah!" Pinkie upturned her nose with a sly grin. "The most generous thing a pony can give is her heart, and it makes for a happy and healthy household in the end! And Sugarcube Corner should be the happiest and healthiest healthy household of them all? Huh? Huh?!"
Mrs. Cake nodded, smiling weakly. "Yes. Yes, it should be."
"How about this..." Pinkie leaned in and nuzzled her. "I'll start. I know that deep inside, I feel like a big foal at heart. But I also know that I'm not a little filly, aren't I?"
"Well, the jury's still out on that one."
"Mrs. Caaaaaake..."
"Heheh..." The mare nodded. "That's bold of you to admit that."
"Nah, I think it's another b-word."
Mrs. Cake thought, fumbled, then blurted, "'Belated?'"
"Yes!" Pinkie pointed. "That's the one! Buhleeted!"
Mrs. Cake rolled her eyes and chuckled.
Pinkie gazed at her with a sincere expression. "How about you show me how to act like an adult, and I'll show you that it's okay to not act like one from time to time." She smiled with misty eyes. "Does that sound like a deal?"
After a few seconds, Mrs. Cake caressed Pinkie's mane and nodded. "Okie Dokie Lokie..."
The Aunt and Niece shared a laugh, hugging each other inside the forest of baked sweets, adding more warmth to the toasty morning.
And then the oven vomited smoked from burning two dozen muffins all at once.
Pinkie Pie's blue eyes bugged. "...shoot!"
"She... she knows?"
Fluttershy gazed aside. "She's always known, Twilight. Only, as of last evening, the truth finally hit her."
"How?" Twilight asked from where the two gazed through the window to Fluttershy's cottage. Dinky lay on a sofa inside, her little face scrunched up as her body twitched in fitful sleep. "I mean, what changed?"
Fluttershy sighed, hanging her head shamefully in the morning light. "I... I-I accidentally broke her stone."
Twilight's eyes darted left and right in thought. At last, she gasped. "Her mother's ‘sound stone?’"
Fluttershy winced. "It was an accident! I had placed the stone up on a high shelf, hoping to get it out of Dinky's mind. But while I stepped out momentarily to speak with Rainbow Dash, Dinky imagined she heard her mother's voice, and she built this... tower of random objects to try and climb up to the stone! When I came back inside, she was falling! I managed to catch her in time. But her stone...?"
Twilight looked back through the window. "The poor thing. She must have been devastated."
"I know." Fluttershy hung her head again. "And it's all my fault."
"Oh, Fluttershy..."
The mare quivered. "And after all I did to try and help her." She sniffled. "I was j-just being selfish! Having her here at the cottage was only making me feel better! Not the foal!"
"Listen to me." Twilight trotted over and hugged the pegasus. "You've done nothing but sacrifice your own time and commitment to Dinky's care. You could have spent these days mourning or exclusively looking after your animals instead. But you didn't, because you're kind and generous and selfless! And besides, Dinky's in one piece thanks to you."
"I... I-I was so scared for her..." Fluttershy trembled, gazing back through the window. "If she fell and cracked her precious little skull, I don't think I would have ever forgiven myself!"
"And now that the sound stone is shattered..."
"She thinks that she can't reach her mother. She was a sobbing mess, Twilight. I... I felt that was the best opportunity—"
"To reaffirm the truth?"
Fluttershy nodded. "I'm not certain if it's done her any good. She's insisted on sleeping all this time." She shuddered. "She's even refused to have breakfast. I think she's mad at me—at all of us—but isn't willing to raise her voice. Such a sweet, gentle, but confused soul..."
"Well, it sounds to me that the breaking of the stone was a positive thing," Twilight said. "As horrible as that sounds."
Fluttershy turned to look at her. "How so?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Twilight gestured towards the restless figure inside the cottage. "She's turned to anger. It's the second stage of grief, after all, following denial."
"Oh..." Fluttershy's wings flexed and unflexed. "I guess that does make some sense." She squirmed. "Doesn't it?"
"Either way, she's making progress," Twilight said, turning about to trot the long distance towards town. "Maybe she'll even be willing to attend the funeral this afternoon."
Fluttershy turned to gawk at her. "Dinky's going to be there?!"
Twilight paused to look back. "Well, we certainly can't force her, Fluttershy, but it would be a healthy part of the process. She needs to move on, don't you think?"
"But... but..."
"We don't want the rest of her life to be defined by her mother's passing," Twilight said. "It's best that she deal with the grief sooner than later, and a memorial is just the thing for that."
"I... I just don't know..." Fluttershy sat on her haunches. "I mean, would it really help Dinky? I know it would be helpful to me, because Derpy was my dear friend. But she wasn't my mother."
"I suggest you spend plenty of time with her," Twilight said, preparing to flap her wings. "Maybe having you around will... uh... soften her up a bit so she can move past her current stage."
Fluttershy bit her lip. "Are you leaving so soon?"
"I've got a million things to oversee, Fluttershy," Twilight sighed from where she hovered in the air. "Why do you ask?"
Fluttershy stirred nervously, her eyes glossy.
Twilight's face stretched with concern. Paling a bit, she coiled her wings and dropped back down. "Oh dear. What's wrong with me?" She trotted over and squatted beside Fluttershy's side. "Please, Fluttershy. Take all the time you want. Tell me what's on your mind."
"It's... it's not me that I'm worried about," Fluttershy stammered. "It's Rainbow Dash."
"Oh yeah? What about her?"
"She... sh-she's not going to be at the funeral, Twilight."
Twilight's eyes bugged. "She's not?!"
"That's... that's what she told me last afternoon. I don't think Dinky is the only pony who needs help with the grieving process."
"You can't be serious!" Twilight exclaimed. "We are talking about our Rainbow Dash, right?"
"Mmmmhmmm."
Twilight sighed, running a hoof through her bangs. "I know that Rainbow's been through a lot lately, but to not attend the funeral? It's just... nnngh... I thought we could all be an example for Dinky! This is ridiculous!"
"Don't be so hard on her, Twilight."
"Why not?!" Twilight frowned. "After all that's happened, I would have expected more from the mare! She's the element of loyalty, isn't she?! She should be helping us all out, not treating this situation like any other day! Not acting as if Derpy hasn't even died!"
“Your life has blessed and honored us all, oh Harbinger of Bubbles!” Atop a tall pyramid structure glowing with effluent light, a gnarled creature in a cloak approached Derpy with a wreath of bioluminescent alien flowers. “The demonic fel reaver has been defeated, and all the Broken Ones are now liberated from demonic tyranny.” He hung the floral arrangement over the smiling pegasus’ neck. “We owe it all to your bravery, your tenacity, and your courage in the face of merciless evil.”
Hundreds of thousands of figures stood along the lower steps of the massive stone ziggurat, and they all bowed low while bursts of spectral fireworks launched into the air, followed by epic chants and fanfare.
“Glory to the Harbinger of Bubbles! May her name be shouted in the halls of the holy forevermore!”
“Thank you all, scrunchy faced guys!” Derpy waved her hoof in the wrong direction. “Whoops? Where’d ya go?” She pivoted about, her eyes rotating. “Oh! There you are! Ahem.” She waved again. “I only did it ‘cuz that robot was super mean and everyone was just wandering aimlessly around in these villages with nothing better to do!” She grinned wider. “Where I come from, we call such poor souls ‘nowhere pony citizens.’ I’m sure there’s a way to shorten that, but I forget at the moment. Heheh! Oh well!”
“We owe our entire civilization to you.” The elder before her bowed low. “Surely, your wisdom and valor will usher in an unprecedented dawn of joy and enlightenment.”
“And that’s for you guys to discover on your own! You seem to have the legs for it, after all!” Derpy flapped her wings. “But I must go now. My Muffin needs me!”
The elder sniffed, wiping his wrinkly face dry with a bony wrist. “We will never forget what you have done for us today. May the Light shine on your path, where it may take you!”
“Well, that’s just super!” Derpy flung the bag of void rocks over her shoulder and flew higher. “Bye bye, everyone! Try not to get any more big robots mad at you! Or orcs! Or big blind demon guys who like to grab skulls and give monologues!”
“May the Light bless the Harbinger, now and forever!”
“Zoop!” Derpy slammed the bag of stones against the peak of the pyramid. In a burst of aquamarine light, she was gone.
The crowd wept her departure. The elder slumped to his knees and sighed with a weary smile. “That was the best raid leader ever…”
"Rainbow Dash doesn't need us punishing her, Twilight," Fluttershy said assertively as the two stood outside her cottage in the morning light. "After all, I think she's doing enough of that on her own."
"Still, it's no excuse for her to be downright rude and unsympathetic!" Twilight said with a frown. "I didn't say anything earlier, but I've had at least three or four villagers on separate occasions ask me what's eating her. Apparently Rainbow's been biting the heads off ponies all over town these past few days! Aren't we dealing with enough grief as it is?! It's inexcusable!"
"We all deal with grief in our own separate ways, Twilight."
"But Fluttershy, does that mean we shouldn't be nice to others who need their own space to grieve as well?"
"I think Rainbow is used to dealing with a lot of things," Fluttershy said. "But sadness isn't one of them."
Twilight frowned at that, but after the course of a minute, the rigid lines to her face softened. She sighed and slumped back on her royal haunches. "I just... can't wrap my head around it..."
"Around what?"
"Rainbow needing help in a situation like this." Twilight gulped. "I mean, she's always there for us. And then something like this happens—Derpy's death—and it's as if she's completely unreachable. How fair is that?"
"She came to me yesterday afternoon," Fluttershy said. "I think the fact that she wanted to talk it over—if even for a brief moment—is a very good sign."
"Doesn't change the fact that she's stubborn as a mule," Twilight muttered.
"She's still our friend, Twilight," Fluttershy said, resting a hoof on her shoulder. "She knows that all things are capable of changing with the right amount of love and attention." She brushed her forelimb against Twilight's wings. "Even defying all odds."
Twilight looked at her own feathers, then back at Fluttershy. "You always know how to put things in perspective, Fluttershy." Her cheeks went rosy. "It's... humbling. Thank you."
Fluttershy smiled. "Just don't be too mad at her when she shows up this evening," Fluttershy said. "It wouldn't be nice to make a scene at Derpy's memorial."
Twilight's face scrunched with confusion. "But I thought Rainbow Dash said she wasn't going to attend," she droned.
Fluttershy smiled. "Somehow, I doubt that. Just you wait and see."
Twilight was silent for a while. With a sigh, she rested her muzzle on her forelimbs. "Sometimes I think the tiara was put on the wrong pony."
"Oh?"
"Face it, Fluttershy. I've never been much of a pony-person. All I've ever known about society or common etiquette, I learned from books." She then gazed sincerely at her friend. "I was friendless most if not all my life, but then I met you girls, and... and it changed everything about me. There are times when I feel—deep down in my heart—that all of my virtues are things I've simply borrowed from the five of you."
"Well, that's rather appropriate." Fluttershy smiled. "Don't you think?"
"But now that I'm a princess, I feel like I should be exercising these qualities as if they're my own! But they're not! They're... attempts to mimic the things that I've learned from each of you! Sometimes I feel like it's all just a silly ritual." She sighed through her nostrils and gazed off. "I feel as if there's no sincerity to it all at times. It worries me."
"So..." Fluttershy kneaded the ground with her hooves, thinking aloud. "You feel... alone?"
"Detached," Twilight blurted. "I feel detached, Fluttershy. Heck, it's the only thing that's helping me set up this whole funeral for Derpy without collapsing like a nervous wreck."
Fluttershy glanced towards the distant treetops, then looked back at Twilight. "Perhaps detachment is a good thing in such a case."
"Huh?"
"Well, you've learned all the qualities of friendship," Fluttershy said. "Perhaps in knowing how to feel, you also know how to not feel. There can... uhm... be a lot of strength in that."
Twilight chuckled. "That's an interesting point, Fluttershy. It's just not something I would expect to hear coming from you."
"Why not?" Fluttershy calmly leaned her head to the side. "It's true, isn't it?"
"It's... debateable."
"I wouldn't mind a certain degree of detachment from time to time," Fluttershy said. "I mean, I do live in a cottage far away from the center of town and all."
"You practically bump elbows with animals every other second, Fluttershy."
"Mmmm. Yes. But still, I sometimes think that a lot of that has to do with the fact that I'd rather not deal with ponies in general." Fluttershy bit her lip. "Or with pony emotions."
"Where... where's all this coming from?"
Fluttershy nervously ran a hoof through her mane as she said, "I've been thinking a lot about what Rainbow Dash asked me when she visited yesterday. She asked me what it felt like to be 'weak and helpless' all the time."
Twilight raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's... a weird thing to ask."
"But also pretty accurate about me, don't you think?"
"Uhhhh..."
"I told her that I used to be a great deal more afraid than I am now," Fluttershy said. "And believe it or not, Twilight, it's true. I used to be... uhm... rather obsessed with death." She gulped as a pale sheen fell over her features. "It used to consume me each waking hour of the day. I'd fret over every single body twitch or ailment, like a hypochondriac. I'd be afraid of stepping out of the cottage, because then I'd be attacked by every phobia in the dictionary. The fear would become so thick, so heavy at times, that I would collapse in my room—literally paralyzed and unable to move."
"That's... that's horrible, Fluttershy..." Twilight stammered with a painful expression.
"Just... the very thought of death..." Fluttershy gazed calmly into the morning breeze. "It's so natural that it's easy to forget, and yet it follows us like a shadow. Every day we wake up in the morning, and it would be just as simple to not wake up instead, for we will one day lay our heads down for the last time, embracing a great blackness without dreams or dawns. At what point does the blackness overtake us? When do we switch from being to not being? Would it be simpler to say that we have n-never really been anything to begin with?" She gulped a lump down her throat and gazed at Twilight with cold eyes. "I tried to find warm things in life that I could appreciate, ways in which I could spread joy and love and kindness. For the longest time, I only did it with animals, because somehow it soothed me. It made everything simple. Looking back on it now, I realize that it's likely because most animals don't live as long as ponies, and by filling their lives with as much comfort as I could, I was coming to terms with what I would be filling my own life with over the scant years I had left." She smiled with a flutter of her wings. "But then, you came into my life, Twilight. And Rainbow Dash came back. And I got to know Applejack and Pinkie Pie and... a-and Rarity." She breathed warmly. "And now I realize that there's no point in focusing on all the bleakness, because I'm here to enjoy the days that I have and to enjoy them with you. It's all so very simple, and the only way to waste time is to question it all. Don't you think?"
Twilight opened her mouth, but faltered. Her eyes moistened as she let her gaze fall to the ground.
Fluttershy pursed her lips. "Twilight...?" She breathed with concern, leaning over. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"I... I don't know what to think anymore," Twilight said. "I used to think that it was all simple, like you do now. But... I'm not sure..."
"Why not?"
Twilight winced. "It's just like you said, Fluttershy. Death is natural. It's like falling asleep, really. When it comes a pony's turn to die, what's the point in kicking and screaming? The body wants to relax, after all, and the spirit is really no different, even if it's frightened enough to feel otherwise from time to time. I mean... death is rather blissful, if you think about it."
"Is that how you feel about it?"
"I don't know. When I joined Rainbow Dash in telling Dinky about her mother, I was a sobbing wreck. I was so distraught over the poor foal. Heck, I still am. But... the more I look at it, and the more I work on arranging this funeral..." Her wings coiled tightly by her side. "The whole thing just feels like a regular ritual. The funeral's just a mechanism, organized so that we can remember something or somepony better, when in fact our hearts are already built to do that enough on its own." She gulped. "The Mayor asked me if I had chosen a time for mourning Miss Hooves, and—well—she may be onto something. I like to think that all the work I've been doing has been my own personal way of mourning, but that's a cowardly excuse. I think all of this has... given me a reason not to bother with feeling, as if I have to practice being so detached. Like it's my job."
"Why would it be your job?" Fluttershy asked. "Because you're a princess?"
Twilight's face suddenly winced in pain.
"Twilight...?"
"I... I have to go. Uhm... really." Twilight sniffled as she stood up. Rubbing her cheek dry, she sighed towards the rising sun. "I'm sorry, Fluttershy, but I'm no good here. I have to practice the eulogy and oversee the casket delivery and... and... s-so many other things..."
"I understand..." Fluttershy said, her ears drooping.
"And Fluttershy?"
"Yes... Twilight?"
She turned to gaze gently at the pegasus. "If Rainbow Dash comes to visit her again, tell her... t-tell her I'm no longer mad. I understand why she wouldn't want to be at the funeral." She sighed, then flapped her wings. "In fact, I almost envy her."
Fluttershy's brow furrowed in confusion as she watched her friend fly away.
When Twilight was beyond earshot, she flew up high, leveled up with the clouds, and let out a loud sob. She wiped her eyes dry again, took several deep breaths, then put on an air of seriousness before diving towards the center of town... and resuming her work at Town Hall.
"Rarityyyy?!" Sweetie Belle whined, waddling on short hooves to keep up with her big sister. "What are we doing out here?! Huh?" Huffing and puffing, the frowning filly fluffed her mane in the noonday light. "I'm gonna get all sweaty, and the funeral for Dinky's mom is just a few hours away! Don't we still need to get dressed and stuff?"
"There will come a time for making ourselves presentable, Sweetie Belle," Rarity said calmly. She wore a sunhat and shades, levitating a bouquet of lilies by her side as she trotted down a path that led towards a green field full of white stones. "As for now, I have something to show you."
"What?" Sweetie Belle craned her neck, squinting. "At the cemetery?" She nervously trotted after Rarity as the two made their way through the front gate and began trotting down the rows upon rows of granite slabs. "I don't get it. What are we doing here? Are... are we going to see Miss Hooves' grave or something?"
"It's far too early for her burial, Sweetie Belle. And besides, there is no remains to be put in the ground." With a shuddering breath, Rarity shook her head and trotted a bit slower, counting the rows and paths with expert precision. She took a right, then a left, then shuffled down a dozen spaces. "No, this isn't about Miss Hooves. Not right now."
"Rarity...?" Sweetie Belle bit her lip, squirming with each hoofstep. Her shrunken pupils reflected the passing tombstones in a pale sheen. "I... I-I don't think we should be here."
"There is nothing to be afraid of, Sweetie."
"No, it's not that. I once played in the nearby park with Scootaloo and Apple Bloom. Mom and Dad got mad. I don't think they want me to wander in here."
"There are... many things that Mother and Father do not want," Rarity murmured. "And do not worry. We are not wandering anywhere. I know exactly where we need to be." She came to a stop, taking a shuddering breath as she unraveled the bouquet of flowers and laid them at a small stone before the two. "Here. This is the place. Nice and peaceful... as well it should be."
"Rarity, please, wh-what are we doing here?" Sweetie Belle trotted into her, gazing around with a slight shiver. "It's so... quiet out here. And..." She squinted at the flowers. "Are those lilies?"
"Mmmhmmm. Indeed they are."
"I don't get it. You always said you hated lilies!" Sweetie Belle glanced up with a scrunched face. "Why would you bring those of all things here?"
Rarity lifted her sunhat and shades, lying them by her side. "Because... b-because they were his favorite. He adored them s-so very much. He adored everything."
Sweetie was silent with confusion. The filly's lips pursed as—curious—she shuffled forward, squinting at the stones directly in front of the two. "H-hey! Uncle Eloquence. Aunt Felicity." Her eyes bounced from grave to grave. "Look it! Grandma and Grandpa!" She gawked up at Rarity. "So this is where they were buried?"
Rarity quietly nodded. She looked straight ahead like a sentry.
"How c-come Mom and Dad never brought me here before? Their gravestones look so nice and shiny!"
"They've... h-had their reasons, darling."
Sweetie glanced at her sister upon hearing the address. Her eyes fell back to the tombstones, and she squinted specifically at the granite slab where Rarity had placed the lilies down. "Huh... 'Golden Mean.'" She smiled. "That's a pretty name."
Rarity breathed, "I'd venture to say it's a rather handsome one."
"But... I don't get it..." Sweetie Belle glanced at the larger slabs that sandwiched the tiny stone. "What's it doing here between Grandpa and Uncle Eloquence? Did another pony buy this plot?"
"No, Sweetie Belle," Rarity murmured. "This is where Golden Mean deserves to rest."
"Oh? Why's that?" She trotted a few steps forward. "Did the family know him?"
"Knew him, loved him, and cherished him," Rarity exhaled. "But most certainly not f-forgotten him." She gulped and turned to gaze down at the filly. "He was your brother, Sweetie Belle."
Sweetie's jaw fell agape. She looked at the grave, then back at Rarity. "My... br-brother?" her voice cracked.
Rarity slowly, slowly nodded.
"I... I-I..." Sweetie Belle's face tensed anxiously. "I d-don't understand. I had a brother?" She squinted at the years marked on the grave. "An older br-brother?!"
"He loved lilies. He delighted in the way the sunlight reflected off of them in the windowsill." Rarity spoke aloud, "If he could have... only moved his forelimbs more, he would have frolicked in them. I kept the flowers at his bedside. I promised him that we would go out for walks in the park some day. But... we n-never did." She swallowed hard, her features paling. "We never did..."
"Rarity, you're..." Sweetie Belle seethed, shuffling backwards on trembling hooves. "You're sc-scaring me! Why are you acting th-this way? What's going on here?"
"The last thing I want to do is scare you, darling. But I'm sorry... I'm so... so very sorry." Rarity stifled a sob, her jaw growing tight. "Mother and Father will be terribly mad at me for this, but that is something I will have to live with. I am tired of this banal charade, and I can play my part in it no longer." She turned towards her sister with a tear rolling down her cheek. "I love you far too much to continue lying to me."
"About... about wh-what...?!" Sweetie Belle's lips quivered as her eyes darted back to the stone. "Who is he?! Wh-who is Golden Mean?"
"The only precious thing to have ever come into my life, or so I had thought." Rarity swiftly shuffled over and squatted before the filly. "But I was wrong, Sweetie Belle." She grasped the foal's hooves with her own. "You are here, and you are alive, and I need to make amends before it is too terribly late. I have to be honest, because so far I haven't been very generous."
Sweetie merely stared at her with a gaping expression.
Rarity sniffled, gazing back at the grave as another tear trickled down. "I was only five years old when mother gave birth to him. He was... such a tiny, fragile thing. The doctors told us from day one that it would be a miracle if he made it past his third month. And yet he did. He was so strong, and yet so gentle. Not a day went by when h-he wasn't sm-smiling..." She briefly held a hoof over her muzzle. After a few seconds, she regained enough composure to squeak forth, "But sickness caught up with him, and over the next two years, his muscles dwindled. His lungs could barely work, and every unicorn physician from here to Stalliongrad lent the best skills they had at their disposal. And despite all of their efforts, Golden Mean only got worse. But... his face didn't show it. He loved life. He loved lilies in the windowsill. And... and he l-loved me. I know it... I-I just know it..."
Sweetie watched as Rarity collapsed before her. The adult weathered a few heavy heaves, practically bowing before her little sister before lifting her teary face once again.
"I spent every waking hour with him. I-I felt it was my duty, because Mother and Father..." She winced briefly, but continued. "They were wiser to Golden Mean's fate than I was, but at the time I didn't feel like that excused their glaring absence. I did what I could to fill Golden Mean's hours with happiness. I bonded with him in the way that an older sister should. I... I only wanted to be generous with him. And I was. By Celestia, I was. I wanted him to get better, to build muscles in his legs and trot like the other normal, healthy colts his age. I wanted it more than I wanted my own cutie mark. But... it never happened." She bit her lip before sputtering forth, "He died in his sleep one morning. I was seated in a chair beside him. I... didn't even notice it happen. There wasn't a cry, or a moan. It was like any other passing second, but... he was gone..."
Rarity sat back on her haunches, rubbing a hoof over her tear-stained face as a heavy shudder gave an echo to her voice.
"Father and Mother buried him here. But that wasn't all they buried. They were... beside themselves in grief. They were worse off than myself, or at least... they didn't treat the tragedy with the same emotional flexibility that I did. They wanted to... erase all memories of him." She choked on a sob and blurted, "As if Golden Mean didn't exist! As if every precious thing he did, every smile he gave, every tear he shed as he looked out on a world he could never enjoy d-didn't happen! And at first, I was so very confused, and so very angry. The household became a miserable place, full of shadows and sighs. Mother and Father nearly separated, and there are times when I think it would have benefited them greatly if they did. As I found my talent and I grew older, the only way I could cope with it all was to dr-drown my thoughts out with work, with creativity, with producing materials of flair and distraction. My skills should be something of pure generosity, Sweetie Belle, b-but they're not! They've only given me a poor and cowardly excuse to distance myself from something I should have otherwise coped with."
Her breaths calmed, giving way to a pained expression as she clenched her teeth. At last, she continued:
"But then, you were born. My parents had somehow found a way to carry on, and you were the product of it... a very beautiful, gorgeous gift of life. They rejoiced in your arrival upon this world, Sweetie Belle, and they were thankful beyond belief that you came into our lives so healthily and full of vibrance. But I?"
She gazed at Sweetie Belle directly, and then the tears doubled.
"I... I-I could not rejoice, Sweetie Belle. I r-refused to. I d-did not want to risk investing my heart in another thing so small, so gentle, so precious. I was t-too afraid to, because my own talents and my own craft was so comforting, do distracting, so familiar. I-I didn't want to give it up. I didn't want to give my heart to somepony like you. I refused to be a generous older sibling, and as the years went by and I saw the extent to which Mother and Father selfishly forsook the legacy of Golden Mean, I used that as an excuse to mask my shame in anger. I grew distant, haughty, indignant. And all that b-baggage, all that remorse and distaste, I... I-I heaped it upon you, darling. I punished you all these years, and for what?"
Sweetie Belle blinked, her breaths panting in shocked little bursts as her eyes reflected a distraught mare. She almost jumped when Rarity's hooves clasped her shoulders.
"You are a beautiful, intelligent, and finely gifted young mare, Sweetie Belle!" Rarity hiccuped between sobbing exclamations. "You deserve nothing less than the best guidance this life can afford you! And between your parent's deception and your sister's apathy, you have not gotten that, darling! For years you've bounced between our households like some... some pitiable pet that none of us know what to d-do with! And that is not fair! It is not fair to you! You have a chance to cultivate your strengths and talents in such a way that Golden Mean never could! And I-I want to be there to help you grasp what is rightfully yours! But I've been a failure all this time! But not anymore! Do you hear me?! Not anymore..."
"What... wh-what are you saying, Rarity?" Sweetie Belle stammered.
"I'm saying that I am ready to be generous to you, sister," Rarity said with a firm expression. "For the first time ever, I am willing to shrug off this cowardice and be perfectly generous with you. Because life is such a fragile, fleeting thing, and any one of these days you or I could be plucked from this earth like mere flowers! And I am not about to let you live life alone like Derpy's darling little daughter. I want to take care of you from now on, Sweetie Belle. I want to be there with you when it's time for you to shine, and maybe—together, hoof in hoof—you can show me how to be a better mare to those around me, for I am utterly tired of this coldness. Please... I beg of you. Will you give me a chance to be the sister you always needed?"
Sweetie Belle stood stock still, her breaths coming out in tiny vapors. She gulped and murmured in a squeaking voice. "All this time... you... y-you really cared about me? But were too afraid to b-because of what happened to Golden Mean?"
Rarity bit her lip. "There is no excuse. No excuse, I just..." Rarity clenched her eyes shut, wincing. "I just can't pretend anymore. I don't want to bury you like I did him. It would be too painful... too horribly, terribly painful. And you deserve—"
Sweetie Belle suddenly flew into her with a tender hug.
Rarity gasped, her wet eyes wide.
Sweetie Belle nuzzled the mare's shoulder, tears running down her smiling face. "It's okay, Rarity. I promise, you won't ever have to bury me."
Upon hearing that, Rarity's face practically melted. She hugged Sweetie close with two soft forelimbs and buried her face in her mane. "I love you, darling. Thank you. Thank you for this. I promise, I will fill your life with purpose and wealth that n-no diamonds could b-buy..."
"Rarity...?"
"Y-yes, Sweetie Belle?"
The filly sniffled. "I-I really like it when you call me 'darling,'" she murmured.
Rarity blinked, then chuckled hoarsely. As Sweetie giggled, Rarity collapsed into breathy sobs of joy. She held the filly close as the two rocked back and forth between the graves of countless souls.