• Published 11th May 2016
  • 2,701 Views, 40 Comments

Bring Them Back - somatic



They are all gone, but Twilight prays that they will not be gone forever.

  • ...
2
 40
 2,701

I Thought He’d Last Forever

She was five thousand years old, but the Everfree still terrified Twilight Sparkle. Her wings huddled close to her body as she struggled across the uneven ground, eyes shifting about for predators.

The forest had always been dangerous, but not like this. Trees grew tall as towers, their trunks clad in iron-hard bark. Thorns sprouted from every crack in the earth, every poisonous plant, every creeping vine, drawing blood from Twilight’s legs as she clambered past them. The place seemed designed to repel visitors—it was.

Trails of lilac magic led Twilight on, tracing a path through the tangle. There once was a road that ran this way, through the streets of Ponyville, across a bridge over a calm river, but that was many years ago. The Everfree engulfed it all now.

The princess came upon an impassable wall of thorns, focused a spell, and blasted a way through. Her horn went haywire, sputtering off sparks of lavender as raw magic surged around it. Twilight took a deep breath and turned off her pathfinding spell. She wouldn’t need it anymore.

A mighty force had warped this place. Above her, the trees grew in thick layers, curling inwards in a cavernous dome around a clearing. Sunlight trickled through holes in the dome as if they were windows in a castle wall. Thorn barriers, quicksand moats, and vine traps guarded the land, grown by wild magic.

The forest had become a fortress, an impenetrable sanctuary meant to protect one very special place.

Impenetrable to all but a certain very powerful, very desperate alicorn.

Before her stood a bulbous cottage, all covered in moss and leaves as if it too had sprung out of the earth. Everything around it had decayed; the rains had washed away the road, the flooded river had swept away the bridge, but the cottage remained, untouched, unaltered.

Fifty lifetimes ago, it had been the home of one of Twilight’s closest friends. Now, it was her crypt.

Taking a deep breath, Twilight knocked on the door.

Another old friend answered.




“Do you like what I’ve done with the place? I’ve even kept it the right way up this time. No, my days of turning buildings on their heads and blessing Ponyville with chocolate rain are behind me, dear Princess Twilight. Would you like some tea? A scone?”

Twilight said nothing.

“Perhaps one of those cucumber sandwiches?”

No response.

“What, come all this way to visit your old pal Discord, and you can’t even say a word? Cat got your tongue?” The draconequus pulled open Twilight’s mouth. “Nope, still there.”

Twilight closed her eyes.

“You know, it’s been ages since you last dropped by.” Discord glanced at the clock on the wall. The hands spun wildly. “I think. I’ve never been good at reading these kinds of clocks. The short hand is the minute, right?”

A slow tear puddled above Twilight’s cheek.

Discord’s antics ceased. “I’m sorry. You’ve come to see her, haven’t you?” He hesitated, then laid a warm paw on her withers. “I’ve kept the tomb clean. Put some flowers on it every once in a while.”

Soft whimpers. Twilight shuddered, her belly rising and falling in uneasy rhythm. She could barely stand.

Discord put his arms around her, held her, and led her to the grave.

FLUTTERSHY
Here Lies a Dear Friend
There never was a soul she could not save
Rest in Harmony

The headstone, first laid five thousand years ago, had not crumbled, and the thorns would never cover it. Only flowers grew here.

“As long as my magic holds out, the grave, the cottage, all of it will last forever.” Discord looked back at his first friend’s old home. “You know how hard it is for the God of Change to make things stay the same?”

They stood there, the two immortals, and watched the daylight trickle through the branches. With defenses like Discord’s, this grave would remain undisturbed until long after the sun burned out.


His arm still rested on Twilight’s back. Discord hoped this was the right way to comfort a friend. It was more complicated than this, he was sure—maybe he should say something? Fluttershy hadn’t stuck around long enough to explain what to do in these situations.

It took a moment for Discord to realize Twilight was crying. His fur slowly soaked through with tears as the alicorn pressed her face into his chest, no longer able to look at the grave.

“There, there,” the draconequus said, softly stroking her back. There, there? I sound like I’m talking to a foal who stubbed her hoof! This isn’t right, these aren't the words to say! What do I do?

“She… Fluttershy…” Discord never struggled for words before, not when he was cracking a joke or insulting the Princesses. “She has an alicorn, a god, and a dragon to remember her.”

Before Discord could speak again, Twilight muttered something, muffled in his fur. Discord pulled himself back so he could hear.

“He’s gone. Spike… he’s gone.” Twilight’s throat throbbed and her voice wavered. “I did all I could, renewed the youth spell every day, but it…” She remembered the smell of his burning body, consumed by his own dragonfire. A natural funeral pyre. “It fell apart. I couldn’t hold it forever, and now he’s…”

Her knees buckled, spilling the princess across the forest floor. She didn't have the strength to stand. "He's gone. All at once, five thousand years caught up to him.”

Discord conjured a handkerchief and tried to mop Twilight’s tears off her face. “It turns out…” She fought to speak between her sobs. “Not even dragons live that long.”

They sat there, Spirit of Chaos coiled around the Element of Harmony, till the sun set.




“What did her voice sound like, Discord?” The first words Twilight had spoken since the moon rose. Cold light fell on Fluttershy's grave.

“You were a closer friend to her than I ever was. Your memories will be better than my imitations.”

He felt Twilight shake her head against his chest. “I meant to tell you earlier. Turns out memories don’t last forever, even though I do.”

Discord raised an eyebrow. “You mean…?” Twilight’s horn ruffled his fur as she nodded.

“Even alicorns forget.” She pushed herself up, taking all her effort not to collapse again. “I gave the eulogy at the funeral, Spike’s funeral, just four nights ago. I talked about his first day in Ponyville, about being the first baby dragon Fluttershy ever saw. He encouraged her to start the Dragon Sanctuary. He encouraged all of us.” She drove her muzzle into Discord’s fur, trying to gather what little strength she could from him.

“And Celestia…” She hadn’t gathered enough. “And Celestia…” Her body quivered. “And Celestia had no idea who I was talking about. I talked to her after the service—Fluttershy meant nothing to her. Just a name from five thousand years ago, a random pony she doesn’t even remember. For all I know, she forgot her to make room for some other hero.“ Discord stroked her back in slow circles. “Just another dead mayfly.”

“And I realized… I can’t remember the sound of Fluttershy’s voice. I only recalled that bit about their first meeting because I wrote it down, but it’s just words on a page to me.”

“I had to look it up to recall our first day in Ponyville. I had to look up the events of one of the most important moments in my life. Like I was writing a history paper.” Again, her head sunk into Discord's fur. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. “Because that’s all it is to me now. History. A story written by some other pony, some other Twilight, with friends I can barely remember.”

Discord tried to speak, but his words fell flat in his mouth before they ever left his lips.

“I don’t blame Celestia.” Twilight's voice interrupted his attempts at a response. “If I had to remember the millions of ponies I saw die, I’d go insane. I probably already am. I spend all my time trying to hold on to them, but they’re slipping away. I can feel it.” Her tear-stained face slowly wrenched itself into a determined grimace. “And I’m sick of it.”

She looked up into Discord’s hollow smile, and the draconequus was stunned to see steel behind the tears in her eyes. “Discord, I want them back.”

“Twilight, are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

“Yes! I want them back from the grave, from the afterlife, from Heaven or Hell or Tartarus or Nothingness or wherever it is we go when we’re gone, I don’t care! I want them back! I want them here, because this alicorn blood means I will never be able to go them!”

She battled to keep her voice from cracking, and for a moment, it seemed like she was winning. “I want them back. I want to see the Rainboom again, I want to question my own sanity as I see Pinkie do the impossible.”

Twilight’s anger melted together with her sorrow. “I’d trade everything, every one of these damned court outfits, and… and every jewel in my golden crown just to feel the stitches of Rarity’s dresses again.”

“I want to…” She could barely breathe now. Her words battled tears, coming slowly and weakly from her mouth. “I want to see…” Deep breaths rattled her rib cage as she fought for air. “I want to walk to Sugarcube Corner again, with Spike on my back…”

As she spoke, her voice dwindled to a whisper, till Discord had to crane his neck closer to hear her. “I need to see their faces. One more time. Give me one more time, Discord.”

Finally, the God of Chaos spoke. “You know, I tried to offer immortality to Fluttershy, to keep extending her life forever, must have been a thousand times. Refused, again and again as she withered away. Even on her deathbed…”

“I don’t care.” Twilight still had to choke back tears, but her voice had a shred of iron in it again. “I don’t care what she said, and I know that makes me a bad pony, but I don’t care. She can curse me when I drag her back to me, as long as it means I can hear her voice again. As long as I can feel anything again. I know Fluttershy always loved nature, but I don’t, not if that nature takes my friends away from me.”

“I don’t care if they hate me, I just want…” Sobs racked her body, and for a moment the princess looked just as she did five thousand years ago, a lost little pony without color in her mane or hope in her heart.

That time, Discord had taken her friends from her. This time, she prayed, he would bring them back.

“Discord, if there’s any of the old you, the chaotic you, the spirit that made a mockery of the laws of nature and turned the world upside down on a whim, I beg you. Do it again. Cheat death for me.”

Discord tried to think of a witty reply. He failed. In the end, all he could do was wrap his arms around the weeping princess. Tears ran off his scales and soaked into his fur.

“Some things are beyond even my power, Twilight. I can lengthen life, stretch it out, but once it’s gone… You know it doesn’t work that way.”

Twilight sunk deeper to the forest floor, Discord’s arms the only things holding her up. She was spent. Once, many centuries ago, there was fire in her, fire that would burn through forests and boil away the ocean to save the ones she loved, but that flame was flickering, and now Discord’s words had finally snuffed it out. Only ashes remained.

She lay there, too tired to cry or shudder or even breathe, for what seemed like eternity. Then the corners of Discord’s lips slowly curled upwards. The old jester might have one last trick up his sleeve, one last chance to make the princess smile and flip Equestria on its head. It would cost him. But who ever liked a cheap gag?

Twilight heard his voice, his old voice, like it was the first time they met, the voice of a trickster god, full of playful malice, content to mock the universe like it was nothing.

Discord spoke. “Twilight, it seems you’ve misheard me. It’s beyond my power, princess. And it’s certainly beyond yours, or else you wouldn’t come running to me, inconsolable as a kicked puppy. But…”

Discord’s words hung in the air—quite literally, for he had conjured a speech bubble right out of Spike’s cartoons. He hadn’t joked like this in millenia.

Twilight breathed in. Was he…? Surely he didn’t mean…? “Discord, please, if you…” The words caught in her throat again. “If you remember any of the mercy Fluttershy taught you, tell me—” She could barely speak, couldn’t bear to ask for what she thought was impossible. “If you are lying, I swear I will destroy you.”

But she had to know. “Discord, please.”

Discord smiled broader than ever. “Dear Princess Twilight, I never said it was beyond our power.”

And in an instant, Twilight’s fire burst back to life. “You mean…?”

“Twilight, you know I love you, but you’ve got to stop with the dot-dot-dots, it’s breaking the flow. But yes, I mean it.” A long claw brushed Twilight’s disheveled mane out of her eyes. “Let’s do this.”

Her face broke into a smile. “I’ll get my books.”

“No need, they’re already here.” A snap of Discord’s fingers, and the forest suddenly shuddered under the weight of a million codices, scrolls, grimoires, and treatises on the darkest of magic.

Another snap, and herbs from distant lands, potions drenched with power, and every manner of reagent, amulet, ingredient or hieroglyphic engraving that could possibly help filled Fluttershy’s cottage.

One final snap, and an elephant fell from the sky into the seat of a twelve-foot unicycle.

“I don’t think we’ll need that, Discord.”

“Ah, ah, who’s the master of chaos here?”

Twilight sighed.

“Come on, say it.”

The princess put her hoof to her face. “You are.”

“And don’t you know it, baby.” Discord pulled a lab coat and thick goggles from his conjured wardrobe. “Twilight, it’s time to raise the dead.”