//------------------------------// // The Fields of Elysium // Story: Our Equestria // by Nonagon //------------------------------// The funeral was, despite its scale, a short and simple one. There was no time for a drawn-out affair; there was rubble to clear and homes to build, pipes to lay and streets to sweep, crushed farmland to plough up and fresh grains to put down. A town as practical as Ponyville was not about to shell out on festivities when there were still dozens of families without homes. But in light of the recent events, some words did need to be said, so for just a few, short hours, the town gathered. The event was held in the town hall, or what remained of it. Cleaning up this section of town had not been a priority, so much of it remained rubble, open to the sky with a fraction of the curved wall swaying in the breeze. Bleachers of a sort were made of the larger piles as the crowd arrived and spread out, taking advantage of the extra space. Much-needed rain began to fall in the far fields as everypony drew towards the center of town, leaving the sky overcast. As the herd amassed, smaller shapes began to dart between the larger ones, slipping away from their parents’ sides, finding each other. The pilots assembled near the back of the room, individual groups merging like raindrops swallowing each other. “Are we all here?” Apple Bloom asked once they’d settled in. Sweetie Belle was wordlessly excluded; she’d said she was ‘busy’ with something. For her, under the circumstances, they were willing to make exceptions. “No!” Pina Colada complained, rising up on her hind legs to look around. “Has anypony seen Pinchy? She keeps running away from me.” The others took vague looks around. “There she is,” Rumble said, pointing. A pink shape parted the crowd. Berry Pinch emerged shyly, another pony in tow. Cheerilee approached the group with a tear-stroked expression that could chill sunlight. She looked over them with a shattered sympathy that could only have meant one thing. “My little ponies,” she said, barely audible. “I’m so sorry.” Pina Colada was the first to put it together. “You told her?” she yelled, barging forward. “Aunt Pina, I had to,” Berry Pinch whimpered. She clung to Cheerilee’s leg. “How could you?” Pina fumed. “This was our secret! Do you have any idea what’s going to happen to you if ponies find out what you’ve done?” A few foals bristled at the irony; several adults were starting to look their way. “It’s all right, Pina,” Cheerilee consoled her, slipping into an automatic teaching tone. “I’m your teacher. I won’t tell a soul, I promise.” This wasn’t enough to satisfy the pink filly, who continued to glare at them both. Apple Bloom stepped up to her side. “She was there, too,” she said. “She deserves to know.” “But you don’t deserve to tell her.” Pina swatted a reaching hoof away. “None of you deserve anything.” The others were left staring as she stalked away. “Are we gonna have problems with her?” Tornado Bolt whispered. “She’s getting picky about being in charge. It’s not like she’s one of us, either.” “Isn’t she?” Silver Spoon asked. “It doesn’t matter,” Cheerilee cut in, sensing a fight about to start. “All of us are in this together, and I want you to know that I’m here for each and every one of you.” A regal glow covered them as, without warning, Princess Celestia crested the nearest hill, flanked by guards on each side. “It is good to hear that, Cheerilee,” she said warmly. “I am certain that with you, our new protectors are in safe hooves.” “Princess!” Cheerilee gasped. She dropped sharply into a bow, prompting a cluster of bows and salutes from the others. “Princess, these children were my responsibility,” she said. “What happened to them is my fault. Please, let any punishment for them fall on me instead.” “Hey, that’s not fair!” Spike shouted in her defense. Needlessly, as it turned out. “There will be no punishment,” Celestia reassured her. “These children have had the weight of the world placed upon them already. I know that they did all that they could to limit the destruction of Ponyville, and I trust that they will show equal judgement in the future. I would not wish to punish them further.” This was met with relief, although it did spark a few guilty looks. “Thank you,” Cheerilee breathed. “But I still feel that all of this is my fault. It was my carelessness that let these children be taken. If there is anything that I can do...” Celestia leaned towards her. “If this is the way that things were meant to be,” she said more quietly, “then there is nothing that could have been done to prevent it. Sometimes, even for the most powerful of us, all that we can do is watch and listen... and sometimes, for those with the power to change the world, knowing that someone is watching and listening is all the help that they need. Even if there was a mistake to be made, you have already atoned for it, just by being here. Do not forget that.” Cheerilee nodded, tears coming to her eyes again. “Thank you,” she whispered. Behind her, the Mayor was approaching her podium, moving much more slowly than usual. “It’s time,” Celestia sighed. “Children, you do not have to stay here if you do not wish to.” There were a few squirms in place of responses. “No, we oughta,” Apple Bloom answered for them all. “Even if it weren’t us... we should remember.” “Very well.” The mayor cleared her throat, silencing the collapsed chamber. However, Celestia imparted one last piece of advice before the service began. “And remember, just for today, do not feel that you have to be strong.” --- The list of the dead was long. Terrifyingly long. Each name blurred into the next, a collection of stones becoming an avalanche of fear and guilt that threatened to crush the town a second time. But they survived. Scootaloo’s name was on the list. So was Diamond Tiara’s. After each of these was read out, each of the foals, plus Spike, stomped in unison, just once. They had not discussed or rehearsed this previously. It had just felt, in the moment, like the right thing to do. Peachy Pie’s name was not on the list. Dinky Doo’s was. They did not stomp for her. Speeches were made, by the Mayor, by Princess Twilight, and by a few select ponies from the crowd. Snacks were distributed. A wall of plaques and photographs was assembled. Everypony had a goodbye to say, or often several, and it was only careful organization that kept the event running smoothly. It was hard to tell when the funeral ended. The speeches stopped and some ponies began to drift away, but others stayed and would stay all night, searching for the plaques of their loved ones. The pilots stayed together, mostly silent, determined not to leave until their families dragged them away from each other. Berry Pinch had stayed by Cheerilee’s side the entire time, not letting go of her. Cheerilee periodically stroked her mane. “How are you doing?” she asked as things began to wind down. “Bad,” Berry sniffed. “If we’d just done something... if we’d just said something...” “Hush, now. Hush.” Cheerilee held her close. “It’s all in the past now. Our world is safe because of you. Focus on that.” Berry just shook. “Cheerilee?” she asked, choking. “Where do ponies go when they die?” Cheerilee froze. All her years as an educator, all her time dealing with every little problem a house full of foals could come up with, hadn’t prepared her for this. She glanced around subtly, and realized that all of her students were staring at her, listening expectantly. For the first time since she had seen them, it finally sunk in that none of them had much time left. These tiny lives, so vibrant, would soon be following their friends into nothingness. Behind her, she could still see the glow of the living Goddess, Princess Celestia, but the princess said nothing. Berry hadn’t been asking the princess. She had been asking her. Cheerilee gulped. She took a deep breath, wet her lips, and then answered very, very carefully. “They... they go to Elysium,” she lied. “It’s a vast field far, far beyond the stars, where no living pony has ever been. The plains are made of light, and everypony there is good and noble. And all ponies live there forever in peace and happiness.” “All ponies?” “Yes. Well... most.” She gulped, trying to recollect the fairy tales her old teacher had once told to her. “If a pony was bad in life, they have to pass through Tartarus first. The worse they were, the deeper they find themselves, and the longer a journey it will take. Some never make it out. But if they persevere, and if they truly wish to become good, then anypony can reach the land beyond the stars eventually.” Their eyes were searing her. Cheerilee tried to keep her voice level, like it was just another lecture; she had no idea if they could tell that she was lying through her teeth. Maybe some had had different conversations with their parents already. Some, perhaps, had never thought to ask. Either way, they were all silent, letting Berry Pinch shift against her leg and speak for them. “When I die... will I go to Elysium?” The question was an icy dagger, pressed against her heart. Answering it was sliding it in another inch. “Yes,” Cheerilee said, nodding to hold back tears. “Yes you will.” “Even if I’ve been a bad pony?” “You aren’t a bad pony.” Cheerilee knelt down and held her close. She could feel a tiny heartbeat, counting down the seconds, so close - too close - to its end. “You will go to the good place,” she insisted. “You’ll never have to hurt again.” “Will Scootaloo be there?” “Yes.” “And Peachy Pie?” “Yes.” “And Diamond Tiara?” “Yes.” Cheerilee hesitated for only a second. “Yes, I know she will be. Even if it takes a little longer for her to get there. You will see her again.” Silver Spoon looked like she was about to say something, but glanced at Tornado Bolt and quickly shut her mouth. Berry Pinch was still. “Okay,” she whispered, and craned her neck around Cheerilee’s. A light left them. Princess Celestia, having overseen all of this and said nothing, was turning away. “I’m sorry,” Cheerilee said, putting Berry down. “I need to...” She trailed off and quickly trailed after the princess, leaving her students watching in silence. The streets quickly emptied of stragglers. Despite her graceful, regal pace, Princess Celestia was already some distance away by the time Cheerilee had rounded the rubble pile. The clouds were pinkening as the sun neared the horizon, and the distant rain was getting closer. Cheerilee ran, stumbling as she nearly lost sight of her beloved ruler. “Celestia!” she cried out. Celestia stopped, though only slowly. “It’s all right,” she said quietly, and at first Cheerilee thought she was addressing her until a pair of guards emerged from the side streets and launched themselves into the sky, leaving the pair of them properly alone. Celestia waited as Cheerilee caught up, then simply looked at her expectantly. Cheerilee shivered as she caught her breath. She had never before imagined that she would one day have an audience with a Princess, and certainly not under these circumstances. The faint tilt of Celestia’s head told her that, unlike in her idle fantasies, it would be better to skip any pomp or preamble. “Did I do the right thing?” she demanded. The response wasn’t quite an answer. “I will not fault you for telling your students what you want them to believe,” Celestia said. “But that does not mean that it was what they need to believe. That is something that every pony must discover for him or herself.” “Then was I wrong?” Cheerilee’s breath quickened again. “What should I have told them? Princess, those children are dying. Was I wrong to give them hope?” She almost shrieked. “What should I say?” Celestia moved. She slowly walked around Cheerilee, as though examining her. “I would say,” she said, “to tell them what is truly in your heart.” She sighed. “But I see that it is too late for that now.” Cheerilee felt a chill. “You knew that I was lying?” “You believe that you were?” “I...” Her throat felt at once tight and hollow. “I don’t know.” She looked at the ground. “I was raised to believe that you were the highest power in our world. Anything that surpassed you wasn’t important to us. We could see you and understand you, and we knew that you were looking after us. That was all we needed.” Celestia was stoic, but Cheerilee could tell that something had shifted. “Do you feel that I have betrayed your trust?” she asked. “No! Ye- no.” Cheerilee rapidly shook her head. “This isn’t your fault. You never asked us to place our faith in you.” “Perhaps not.” Celestia looked to the side. “That story. Where did you hear it?” “My old teacher told it to me. She was dying of the Feather Flu, and wanted us to know that she would be safe.” “I see.” Celestia smiled vaguely. “When in doubt, all ponies repeat the words of the ones they call their teachers. That is why ponies like you and I must be very careful with the stories that we tell. I am glad to see that you know this well.” The comparison was flattering, but it was not enough to distract the teacher. “Princess,” she pressed, “is the story true?” Celestia halted. The sound of the storm grew louder as she contemplated. “Do you need to know?” she asked. “Yes!” Cheerilee yelled. She dropped into a pleading bow. “My students are dying. I need to know that they will be safe.” She sniffed. “I need to know that I will see them again.” There was a long pause. There was a loud crunch. Cheerilee looked up and saw that Celestia had knelt down in front of her. The diarch whispered. “I do not know.” Cheerilee gaped. “Y- you...” “I am sorry, Cheerilee. But I cannot answer your question.” Celestia moved away. She looked up to the sky, perhaps in contemplation, perhaps in sorrow. “There are many things in this world that are not within my knowledge,” she said, “and many more beyond. Even now, a force from beyond the stars is moving to destroy us, and my power to stop or understand it is even less than yours.” She smiled, briefly. “But there is not all fear and darkness in what lies beyond. I have seen wonders in this world that I cannot account for, and goodness even in the grimmest of places. I have seen the lives of the dead spelled out in the stars, and heard their whispers in my dreams. And while I cannot know that the ones I love are waiting for me on the plains of Elysium-” Her voice cracked slightly. “-I do not believe that nothing lies beyond the veil of death. I must wait patiently until I know.” She turned back to Cheerilee. “But that is not what you need to hear,” she said. “Cheerilee, understand that I wish that I could tell you that you will see your students again. But I can not. Because whatever comes after, what I need you to believe is that you need to make the very most of what time you have left with them. Because if you do not, it may not be only your friendship that dies with them. It will be all of us.” --- Stitch, restitch. Stitch, restitch. Restitch again for good measure. Stitch? Restitch. Sweetie Belle was getting tired. She had been at work on her new project all afternoon, now turning into evening, and her hooves were moving slower and slower. She had by this point proved too slow for the sewing machine, and her magic faltered as she tried to move the needle herself over and over, fixing her mistakes more often than she made progress. She’d barely eaten any dinner. She was starting to ache, both from sitting so still and working so long. Her head hurt and she needed to go to bed. And, as usual, her big sister was not helping. Rarity fussed around her, making all kinds of dumb faces. “Are you all right, Sweetie Belle?” she asked. “Do you need another glass of water?” “I’m fine,” Sweetie grunted, not looking up. “Well, if you’re sure.” Rarity took a step backwards and cast a carefully tempered eye over the younger pony’s handiwork. No doubt she was inwardly criticizing every mismatched cut and uneven stitch, but she said nothing of this. Instead she stood uncharacteristically still for just a moment and then darted forward again. “Do you need another cushion? That one must be flat by now.” “I’m fine,” Sweetie repeated, then she sighed. Of all the times for Rarity to turn into Mom, this was not the time. Where was the Rarity who would righteously yell at her for making a mess and wasting so much fabric? Where was the sister who would fret around the edges of the room, subtly tsk-ing every time the desk scraped or another spool dropped? Where was the one who would pull her new creation out of her hooves after the second failed attempt, huffing No Sweetie, just let me do it over her feeble protests? That was the Rarity that she wanted to see right now, not whoever this was. Rain rattled the windows. A strong wind was picking up, whispering around the edges of the building. Sweetie Belle looked up as the windowpane shook, once again dropping her needle on the desk. Right away Rarity was there, picking up after her. “It’s getting very late,” the older pony stated gently. “Why don’t you pick this up in the morning?” “Can’t,” Sweetie mumbled sleepily. “I gotta get this done.” As if on cue, the filly slid off of the stool, almost collapsing until Rarity caught her. “Is that what I look like when I stay up late?” Rarity muttered to herself, but quickly refocused. “Darling, you’re clearly beyond your limits. You must get some rest.” “I can’t.” She was getting tired of repeating herself. She roughly shoved Rarity away, hoping for a stern look, a word of condemnation, anything. But all she saw was concern and pride. “This isn’t just for me,” Sweetie argued. “This is for all of us. I don’t even care if I get to wear it.” “Then why are you pushing yourself so hard?” To her growing frustration, Rarity put a hoof on her forehead. “Sweetie, you already have the weight of all of Equestria put on you. This is hardly the time to be making even more demands of yourself.” “But I have to! My fight could be any minute now!” “All the more reason you should be resting!” With a shriek of rage from Sweetie, Rarity lifted her sister up and began to carry her away from the table. “Enough of this,” Rarity snapped, finally letting some testiness come into her voice. “I will not have my sister saving all of Equestria in such a haggard state. You are going to go to bed, and in the morning you and I are going to the spa, and you are going to relax and forget all about this dreadful business until your time comes. And then afterwards, once you’re safe, you can continue working on your other projects. Do you understand?” “No!” Sweetie Belle struggled in her sister’s grasp. “Put me down! You don’t understand!” “What don’t I understand? That I want my sister to survive?” Rarity lifted Sweetie Belle up and dangled her in front of her with magic. “You need to be in tip-top form when your turn comes, and those beastly aliens won’t care what it is you’re wearing. You aren’t on anypony’s deadline but the ones you set for yourself.” “You don’t understand,” Sweetie snarled. In that moment, she didn’t care about sisterhood. She just wanted to hurt her. “I’m going to die.” Rarity stopped. Her eyes widened. “Sweetie,” she started, then rapidly dropped and embraced her sister. “You are not going to die.” Sweetie Belle sat stiffly, her jaw loosening, as sniffles emerged from her sister - sniffles which must have been held in all day. “You’re going to be very strong,” Rarity continued, as though trying to convince herself, “and very brave. And it’s going to be very scary, but every one of us is going to be there with you. And you’re going to beat whatever creature comes your way and send it packing right back to where it came from, and then you’re going to come home to us safe and sound. Do you know why?” She kissed Sweetie Belle on her forehead. “Because you have a sister who loves you very much. And as you’ve taught me many times, when you have one of those waiting for you at home, there’s nothing that you cannot accomplish.” Rarity drew back, forcing a smile onto her face. “So no more talk of dying, all right? Get some sleep. When this is over, you’ll have all the time in the world to finish your cape.” It took a moment for Sweetie Belle to collect herself. Her mouth started moving before this moment was up. “You don’t understand. Even if I win... I’ll still die.” Rarity flickered as she froze, like a reflection shattering. “What?” “That’s how it works.” Sweetie Belle kept her eyes on the ground. Her heart screamed at her to stop, but her mouth kept moving. “Equus runs on life energy. Even if I win the battle, when it’s over, I’ll die.” She looked up at her. “Scootaloo’s already dead. So are Diamond Tiara and Peachy Pie. And now... I’m next.” She waited a long time for a response. There was none. Rarity’s face didn’t change, but slowly, ever so slowly, she lifted one hoof off of the ground and held it over her mouth. In an unnaturally (for her) jerky, uncoordinated motion, she took a stumbling step backwards, then another more rapidly when Sweetie Belle reached out to her. Then she turned tail and fled, covering her face. “Rarity!” Sweetie yelled after her, chasing on leaden legs. She very nearly fell down the stairs and had to slow down, and could only watch helplessly as Rarity opened the Boutique’s door and galloped out into the rain. Desperation filled her. “Rarity!” she cried again, rushing outside, only to immediately trip over the steps and fall into a mud puddle. She lay there, too tired to move, letting the rain beat down on her as night fell.