The Pale Horse is the usher of the souls of the dead. With such a grim job, most would assume the Pale Horse to live up to the moniker 'The Grim Trotter'. But things are rarely that simple, even with something as ironclad as death.
The hippopomorphic ponification of death will meet everypony in time, from the Mane Six to the gods themselves. But an ending need not be a sad affair.
Image altered and used under Creative Commons license from Raw Fusion, whose other works can be found here.
PEOPLE’S WHOLE LIVES DO PASS IN FRONT OF THEIR EYES BEFORE THEY DIE. THE PROCESS IS CALLED ‘LIVING’. -Terry Pratchett, “The Last Continent”
~~~
With practice born of years of flying through the worst storms that had visited Equestria, Rainbow Dash twisted her wings, relegating the sharp pain from that lightning strike to a dull, fading ache, recovering neatly from the uncontrolled spin she'd been thrown into. Hovering, she gave the scene an approving smirk; already the storm, robbed of much of its strength, was dying away.
"What'd I tell you, Scoot? No storm's ever gotten the best of Rainbow Dash!"
"I wouldn't go so far as to say that." The voice that replied to Rainbow's boast was unfamiliar. It had something of Fluttershy's understated warmth, but also the steel core of Applejack in her most uncompromising.
Rainbow spun in mid-air, grateful to find that she'd reached her second wind, and that the aftereffects of the lightning strike seemed all but gone for the moment. Twilight had a big word for it, but all Rainbow knew that she was ready to deal with this interloper, and the consequences could wait until afterward.
The newcomer was pale, her coat as white as milk and mane the same. She hovered far too close for comfort, watching Rainbow with sharp blue eyes that reminded her uncomfortably of Pinkie Pie.
"What do you mean by that?" Rainbow demanded, fluttering backward to get some space between her and this other pony.
The stranger shrugged with too-thin shoulders and gave Rainbow a wan smile. "I mean you hardly escaped unscathed, Rainbow Dash. Mind, one can hardly say the storm came out the better for it, either."
"Now I know you're cracked!" Rainbow snapped. "I've never felt better! Hay, I haven't felt this energetic in years!"
"I can imagine," the pale pony said softly. "Without the aches and stresses of a living body, you must feel very well."
Rainbow glared as best she could at the pony. She wasn't certain exactly what the stranger wanted, but she was talking weirder than Zecora, and something was nagging at her, something Spitfire would probably have been screaming to her about. It had always been the elder Wonderbolt's pet peeve that Rainbow Dash had a tendency to miss what was right under her snout.
"Look, I don't know who you are, but you're going to shut up and tell me where my wingpony is before I buck your teeth in!"
The stranger gave Rainbow the same wan smile before nodding. "Follow me."
The newcomer remained silent as the two dropped down through the remains of the dissipating storm. Rainbow let her be; she knew she couldn't work up anything polite to say, although, oddly, she couldn't feel the frustration she would normally feel. The emotions were there, just strangely distant and muted.
As they neared a familiar orange shape at ground level, Rainbow began wondering if the lightning bolt that had hit her had taken more out of her than she'd thought.
Scootaloo was crouched on the floor of the Everfree Forest. For a moment, Rainbow thought the younger pegasus was hurt. "Scoot!"
The other pegasus didn't reply. However, as she drew closer, Rainbow heard a quiet sniffle from Scootaloo, and she saw that her wingpony was half-leaning on a still, cyan form.
She might not have spent as much time in front of a mirror as Rarity, but Rainbow could recognize what she looked like. Rainbow's realization that Scootaloo was crying over, well, Rainbow, came with a strange sort of relief, as if things were the way they were supposed to be.
"You're the Pale Horse," Rainbow Dash said flatly. "I'm dead."
"Got it in one," the Pale Horse replied placidly. "That lightning bolt was a bit much for your heart. But like I said, you did do a number on that storm, as well."
"Well, yeah. Of course I did." The words came automatically, but they felt empty. She looked at Scootaloo, who was saying something. It was probably important, but the words came as if through a cloud, muffled and distant. Even Rainbow's mane seemed dim and dull. She shook herself and glanced back t the Pale Horse. "Is that it, then? One lightning bolt, and Rainbow Dash is gone?"
The Pale Horse fixed Rainbow with a glare straight out of Rarity's book, as if she couldn't believe how stupid Rainbow was. She took a hurried step back, remembering old stories about what happened to ponies who were bad.
"It is a remarkable thing that you survived as long as you did, Rainbow Dash," the Pale Horse declared, voice taking on an edge that made Rainbow tense, even though she no longer had nerves, or muscles, to do it with. "You have survived many storms. Another Rainbow Dash might have died months, or years, ago. And you are survived by those who love you. But if you insist I assuage your wounded pride, not one pony in a million could have brought an end to this storm. In death, as in life, you have embraced the edge of the impossible."
As the Pale Horse spoke, Rainbow felt warmth, as if somepony had wrapped her in their wings. She gave no thought to the fact that no pegasus pony was large enough to engulf her in their wings. Instead, Rainbow relaxed, and felt even the faint sensations the world made on her spirit fade.
For once in her life, Rainbow Dash let something happen without fighting.
THERE IS NO JUSTICE. THERE IS JUST US -Terry Pratchett, “Reaper Man”
~~~
Granny Smith glared into the darkness of her room. Oh, most ponies would tell her she was just imagining things, but Granny had never put much stock in what other ponies said. That might make her crazy and paranoid, but when you got old, you were pretty much crazy anyway, so a little more couldn't hurt.
"If you don't stop lurking about my bedroom, it'll go poorly for you," she announced. "I may not know any fancy martial arts, but I know enough to kick your flank."
What emerged from the shadows was a frail creature, frailer than even the most book-obsessed unicorns who never saw the sun. The pony was pale, thin, and had no Cutie Mark. The mare looked to Granny, offering the earth pony a smile that nevertheless put up the old farmer's hackles.
“How did you get in here? It’s Applejack’s job to see the doors are locked.”
The pale pony considered this response for several moments. “I have never found locked doors to be a particular hindrance to my movements,” she replied.
“You better not be here to steal anything,” Granny Smith growled. “The silver’s locked up tight.”
There was another long silence. Granny Smith considered poking the other mare with her hoof, but the idea struck her as a very bad one; Granny Smith had not gotten old by ignoring her instincts.
At last, the other pony shrugged. “I have no intention of stealing your silver.” She sighed, letting her head fall. “But I am going to have to ask you to come with me.”
Granny Smith set her hooves and glared at the other pony. “A kidnapper, eh? I’ll have you know, my granddaughter and her friends have beat Discord and Nightmare Moon and a mean old Changeling Queen, so you’re in for a world of hurt.”
The mare’s stance didn’t waver, but there was a sense of wariness in her expression, a worried sense to her sharp blue eyes. “Miss Smith, I apologize for my vagueness, but this is a delicate matter, and I do usually attempt to approach it with some semblance of tact-”
“Oh, I know. Someponies just won’t take a hint.” Granny nodded sympathetically and trotted to her bedside to pick up the fireplace poker.
The other mare’s eyes narrowed “Miss Smith, attacking me won’t get you anywhere. You are dead already; I am here for the, ah, clean-up.”
“I knew that.” Granny grinned back at the Pale Horse, and bit through the handle of the poker, teeth passing through it entirely. “I wasn’t fixing to make things any easier on you, though,” she added matter-of-factly. Before the Collector of Souls could reply, she pushed on, well aware that while mouthing off to the hippopomorphic ponification of death could be done, there were limits, and she approached those limits the longer this took. “After all, I’ve been ready for you a long time. And I don’t think my daughter was.”
The Pale Horse’s expression softened just a hair, and the creature settled itself, sitting on the floor of Granny’s bedroom. She watched the elderly earth pony with careful attention, but Granny kept her expression fixed. She wasn’t going to make this easy; she’d decided on that a long time ago.
“Every living thing is afforded one lifetime, Miss Smith. I do not determine the length of that lifetime. I do not take the life, only the spirit once it has departed. I am, as I have alluded to, a custodian.”
“Horseapples. You can be bargained with. Everypony knows you’ll play a game for a pony’s life.” She hardened the glare she had practiced for this moment.
It didn’t seem to work. That is, the Pale Horse did not stutter and apologize, as Granny had imagined. Instead, she stormed closer, and as she drew near, Granny could see a wild tinge to her eyes and a frantic tension to her face. “What do you want me to tell you? That they did not fight to stay behind with their foals? That I decided to take them without allowing them a chance? Whose fault do you want their deaths to be? What good will it do you to have somepony to blame? What good will that do you now?”
There was no satisfaction in seeing the Pale Horse’s consternation. Granny Smith watched the unsteady movements of the other mare, finding the moment disconcerting. Yes, she had always expected that she could find some explanation for the unfairness of it all. She had hoped for a confession, an admission, an apology, or yes, even just somepony to blame for it all.
She hadn’t expected that Death herself knew no more than her.
“If there ain’t a reason, what’s the point of all this?”
And that question, at least, seemed to reach the Pale Horse, as her movements slowed, and when she turned to Granny Smith, she had regained her composure. In fact, the stiffness and wariness that had marked their interactions was gone. Death’s smile was softer than the first Granny Smith had seen, and her eyes were shining wet.
“Life is the point, Miss Smith. They had lives. You had one, too. No matter how long, or short, it was, you lived it. Just because it ends doesn’t mean it has no point. In fact, I should say the exact opposite is true.”
Granny Smith bent her head at the words, and felt the brush of feathers, surrounding her, warming her, and bringing an end to what, from this side of life, seemed like a very long day.
IT’S UP TO YOU. IT’S ALWAYS UP TO YOU -Terry Pratchett, “Maskerade”
~~~
Outside, the animals howled, roared, whined and cried. Fluttershy sighed and struggled out of bed. She’d left most of the chores to Applejack while she’d been sick, but this sounded urgent. And in any case, it wasn’t fair to drag the earth pony out of her bed this late. She might have been healthier and sturdier than Fluttershy, but she wasn’t much younger, and complained about her aches and pains as much as Rarity did.
Fluttershy must have still been a little feverish, she thought, because the trip outside was something of a blur. There, every animal was in an uproar, scratching at the ground or tearing at their homes.
A pale earth pony stood at the border to Fluttershy’s home, held at bay by the grim faces of Dragon and Manticore, her little reminders of Angel Bunny. The two rabbits, though no larger than Angel Bunny ever had been, formed a clear barrier to the newcomer. At Fluttershy’s approach, however, they turned. Dragon’s eyes widened, and he let out a mournful mew.
“Dragon Bunny?” Fluttershy asked shakily. The rabbit shook his head and turned back to the earth pony, looking up into the stranger’s wide blue eyes.
The earth pony sighed and stepped forward; Dragon and Manticore tensed, and Fluttershy, entirely involuntarily, stepped back away from the newcomer. The earth pony glanced at each of the rabbits, causing them to quail away from her; when she stepped forward again, however, a growl echoed through the forest. She froze, mimicking Fluttershy’s own fear-induced paralysis.
“This is not how I expected this to go,” the other mare murmured.
“I’m sorry?” Fluttershy tried to step forward, but found Dragon and Manticore blocking her way. She stopped, relieved that she didn’t have to approach the stranger. As much as she wanted to keep her friends from upsetting this mare, something about her was unnerving. Somehow, she didn’t seem quite real, and in Fluttershy’s long experience, the unreal was more often than not something terrifying. “Maybe you should come back later, when the animals are less skittish?”
“I’m afraid it won’t do much good,” the other mare replied. “They don’t approve of me. More importantly, they can sense your fear.” She settled down on the ground, sparing no attention to the animals. “And I can’t leave as long as you’re so frightened, Fluttershy. Dying in such a state doesn’t end well for anypony.”
Dying? Fluttershy shied away from the other mare, and Dragon followed, glaring back at the pale earth pony as he moved. She wished, vainly, that anypony else were here - Rainbow Dash, if she were still alive, would be the best, but even Rarity would be a help against somepony who wanted to hurt her.
“I don’t think dying in any state is something I want to do,” Fluttershy replied. She glanced to the right. She’d recognized the earlier growl from one of her bear friends, and hoped he was still lurking nearby to help. “No offense, but it sounds...scary.”
“It’s a little late to worry about that,” the mare replied. “Most ponies manage to die without my assistance. My concern is, and always has been, the transition.”
Fluttershy felt an uncomfortable, albeit faint, twinge of fear. “I...I’m dead?”
“You have been ill,” the other pony replied quietly.
“Oh.” Fluttershy sank to the forest floor and attempted to accept a nuzzle from Manticore; the bunny’s nose, however, passed through her muzzle, and a strange shiver ran from her nose to tail. “Is it alright if I just stay here?”
“No, Fluttershy. There is somewhere you need to go now.”
Fluttershy shook her head. “I’ve lived here ever since I was a filly, and I was terrified to come here. All my friends are here, and-”
“Not all of your friends.” The other mare’s words, though even and quiet, brought Fluttershy to a halt.
She’d never been very religious; that sort of mysticism was usually reserved for unicorns. But she was aware, vaguely, that some ponies thought there was a place you...well, your mind went, after you died. She’d taken up much too much of Rarity’s time talking about it after Rainbow Dash had died; the thought that Rainbow Dash was out flying through Paradise Estates was a comforting one.
Still, the thought of having to adjust to a new home was petrifying...not to mention the uncertainty of what would really happen to her.
“Do you mean Rainbow Dash is going to be where I’m going?”
The pale pony, when faced with Fluttershy’s hopeful gaze, ducked her head away, eyes fixed on the ground. “I couldn’t say. Where you are going is somewhere I cannot.”
“Oh!” It wasn’t conscious, Fluttershy’s movement to the pale pony’s side. It was just that...hearing the tiniest hint of loneliness in her voice had made it imperative Fluttershy comfort her. “It must be lonely, sending other ponies on to somewhere you can’t follow.” She leaned in, wrapping a wing around the other pony’s side.
“It isn’t all that bad. I get a chance to meet everypony, in time. And...sometimes, ponies are glad to be moving on.”
“I...could stay and help you,” Fluttershy whispered after the pale pony fell silent. “You’d never be lonely again.”
The pale pony did not respond for a long time, and as the silence stretched on, Fluttershy began to worry. She’d offended the other pony, and she’d send Fluttershy somewhere terrible. Or maybe she’d leave Fluttershy alone herself. She didn’t realize she was shivering until the feeling of warm wings stretched over her back. Fluttershy started, and looked up, expecting but seeing no wings.
“Miss?”
“It is my purpose to do this duty on my own,” the pale mare replied. “And I think you would come to regret abandoning all chance at seeing your friends again. Your fear of what lies beyond is understandable. And even your...kindness to me. But you are mortal, and I am...not. There are things I am made to bear, and that you are not. And...”
The pale mare turned away, and when she spoke, it was so quiet Fluttershy wasn’t certain she’d heard anything at all.
“Your friend is waiting for you.”
Her heart (or something like it, now that Fluttershy didn’t have any organs) leapt, and Fluttershy felt a sense of warmth at the knowledge there was something familiar waiting for her.
“If you’re sure you’ll be alright,” Fluttershy said quietly. “I don’t want to think you’ll be lonely here.”
“So kind,” the other mare murmured. “But unnecessary. As long as there is life, I am not lonely. Go on. Find your friends.”
“Do you have many appointments?” MORE THAN YOU COULD POSSIBLY IMAGINE. -Terry Pratchett, “Jingo”
~~~
It had been a long time since Pinkie Pie’s days in Sugarcube Corner. Now owned by Pumpkin and Pound Cake, the store had grown beyond its humble origins. And Pinkie Pie had become an even greater sensation, ranging from being Pinkamena Diane Pie, arranger of the most beautiful, elegant parties in Equestria, to being DJPinkz, the awesomest master of sick beats in the Canterlot underground music scene.
But tonight...she had a very special party planned. She’d read about it ages ago in Twilight’s library, and the idea had tickled her, well, pink. The problem was that only a very special sort of pony could have this party, because it was usually more of a surprise party.
Luckily, Pinkie wasn’t just any pony, and a few weeks ago, her Pinkie Sense had told her that tonight was the perfect time for the party. She’d invited everypony she knew, and sent very special invitations to five very special ponies, one dragon, and, after long consideration, a draconequus.
And ponies were beginning to arrive, in ones and twos and threes, all chattering amongst themselves. Pinkie almost never threw her own parties anymore; for her to throw this one, it had to be the party to end all parties.
At some point, Pinkie saw Princess Luna waltz in, opening a path in the crowd as she approached Pinkie Pie.
The party pony grinned and bounced to the night princess.
“Hey! I’m so glad you could make it! Is Princess Celestia coming? I made her favorite!”
Luna tilted her head. “Almost certainly. She has a few things to handle, first. But I came to ask you if you are sure about this. Nopony has done this in...ages, Pinkie Pie.”
“Well, maybe they should!” Pinkie retorted, glowering briefly at Luna before remembering she was supposed to be a good host. She composed herself, but couldn’t help a little bounce. “I don’t want anypony to be sad and mopey. I want everypony to spend all night remembering how much I worked to make them happy. And...I think the guest of honor could use a warm welcome.”
Luna watched Pinkie Pie for a long time; Pinkie lost interest in wondering what the princess was thinking after a few moments and scratched idly at her ear. “Well. I hope you know what you’re getting up to. I am not certain many here will be happy to learn what the purpose of this party is.” A burst of green flame abruptly appeared next to her, and Luna caught the scroll that manifested from it before it fell. “Ah. My sister and Twilight Sparkle will be here shortly with Spike.”
“Ooh! I’m gonna go get them drinks! Talk to you later, Luna!” Pinkie bounced to the drinks table, leaving the bemused princess of the night behind.
When Princess Celestia arrived, it was with a flash of purple light that showed she, Spike, and Twilight had traveled by Twilight’s magic tonight. Pinkie presented them a trio of cups, even though it took a minute to get Spike’s dragon-sized cup to him. She paused at the sight of him.
“Goodness, Spike, you must’ve started growing again!” Pinkie declared. “You’re the size of a house!”
The dragon’s scales darkened in embarrassment as he tried to look at anywhere but at Pinkie. “Ah, well...”
“You look wonderful! And you, too, Twilight! Oh, I’m so glad to see all of you!” She threw her legs around Twilight and Spike, hugging them as tightly as she was able before flitting off to see her other guests.
It wasn’t until Pinkie saw Rarity enter, fashionably late and dressed to the nines, that it struck her how important this party was. She’d invited every friend she had, not just because it was the best party in the history of Equestria, but because some of them she hadn’t seen in years, and she just wanted to see them all again.
So it was with a slightly more frantic energy that Pinkie began making the rounds, greeting old friends and new friends (it was with shock that she realized there were still ponies she’d never met before). And as nine-thirty came around, Pinkie found her energy fading, just a little, until she came to be standing in the middle of the room, and all eyes drifted to her.
She bounced on her hooves, just once. “Good evening, everypony! I’m so super psyched to see all of you here. I want you all to know I invited all of you because you’re so super special to me. I hope you’ve all been having a great time, because...this is the last party I’m going to throw, ever.” Before anypony could reply, she bounced again, all smiles. “I don’t want anypony to be sad. I’ve thrown a lot of awesome parties, and I hope you can all remember how much fun you had at those. And I want you all to remember tonight, because tonight, we’re welcoming a very special guest-”
At this point, Pinkie Pie slumped to the ground in what was either a very poorly timed prank, or a very good reason for Pinkie to not be throwing any more parties.
~~~
“GASP!” Pinkie Pie whirled on the pale equine that had managed to sneak up on her. “It’s really you!”
The pony, whose coat and mane were the shade of milk, gave Pinkie a wan smile. “Guilty.”
“Wow!” Pinkie declared. “You scared me half to death. What’s your secret?”
The pale pony paused, took a step back, and tilted her head. “Well...first of all, I didn’t scare you half to death.” She gave Pinkie an uncertain grin, icy blue eyes wavering momentarily, as if wet.
Pinkie stared at the other mare for a long moment, trying to piece it together. When she finally got it, she fell back laughing, holding onto her sides. “Oh, that’s - oh my - you didn’t - best - prank - ever!”
She heard, rather than saw, the mare, the Pale Horse, approach. When the reaper spoke, her voice was much closer to Pinkie than before. “You’re not angry?”
Pinkie rolled onto her stomach and looked up at the Pale Horse, smiling as widely as she could. “Of course not! I already knew I was going to die. You just...helped things along.” She glanced at the party hall, which was, strangely, muted like a really old picture. “Can anypony see us?”
Faintly, Pinkie heard somepony say, “would’ve wanted to go. And she certainly would have wanted the party to go on.”
“No,” the Pale Horse replied. “I’m sure you realized that the ability to see Death is not common. It is a skill reserved for those who can see what is really there.”
Pinkie frowned at that; she was fairly certain that other ponies thought she was crazy, not super-perceptive. She glanced in the direction she’d last seen Twilight. “Twilight’s a super-duper scientist pony. I think if anypony would be able to see what’s really there-”
“Twilight has a vision of the world that overlays what she sees,” the Pale Horse replied. “It is true of so many creatures...but you look at the world with no expectations. You see it through eyes that...have no judgment in them. It astounds me, that you are so cheerful when you see the truth of things.”
And that was simply ridiculous; Pinkie couldn’t help but start laughing again, something that brought a scowl to the Pale Horse’s face.
“And what is so funny, little pony?”
“You made a great joke!” Pinkie poked the pale pony’s snout and chuckled when her whole face scrunched up in response. “I don’t think anything’s sad about the way things really are. After all, it meant I got to throw all my friends an amazing party to see me off!”
The Pale Horse gave Pinkie a long look, of the sort Twilight did right before she gave up talking to Pinkie. Unlike Twilight, however, it seemed the Pale Horse wanted to see things through. “I meant that you must know that friendship has no magic. That no matter how hard you look, you will find not a speck of harmony in all of the universe.”
Pinkie laughed again, but this time, was aware that the glare the Pale Horse gave her was a little serious. She pranced forward and bopped the avatar of death on the snout. “So? Why should I let a little thing like that get me down? Every day, me and the girls make magic!” She grabbed the white pony by the hooves and led her in a waltz. “So what does it matter that you think it’s fake? Every day, we make it real!”
And, ignoring the shocked look on the Pale Horse’s face, Pinkie skipped across to the next world. She had to plan welcome parties for everypony.
IF WE DO NOT CARE, WE DO NOT EXIST. IF WE DO NOT EXIST, THEN THERE IS NOTHING BUT BLIND OBLIVION. -Terry Pratchett, “Reaper Man”
~~~
Applejack was taking a rest against one of the old apple trees; as much as she hated to admit it, these rests had become a necessity for her old bones. Truth was, she wasn’t certain Applebloom was wrong, insisting she was too old for apple-bucking. But she wasn’t going to go like old Granny, in bed. In any case, Applejack had found hard work was the best way to keep from thinking too much about...well, being old. And what came next.
“Mind if I sit a spell?”
“Eeyup,” Applejack replied. She’d grown laconic in her old age, seeing more in Big Mac’s tendency not to use two words when one would do.
A pale-coated pony sat next to Applejack, leaning against the tree. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Applejack enjoying the quiet, and her companion...well, she didn’t know what. The mare was a stranger to her, something that would have been unheard of five years ago. But then Pinkie had passed, and nopony had the enthusiasm at bringing new ponies into the fold, and Applejack saw more strangers every week.
“So, what brings you to Ponyville?” Applejack asked.
“Business.”
Applejack let that settle for a minute. “What sort of business?”
“Had an appointment,” the stranger replied.
“And you thought you needed a moment to sit?” Applejack asked.
“Nope,” the mare replied. “Appointment’s over this way.”
“With whom?” Applejack asked. She turned to the stranger, eyeing her with a narrow gaze. “You’re a mite young for Big Mac, and you ain’t Applebloom’s type, and I know you’re not here for farm business, else I’d know.”
The mare sighed. “You’ve found me out. I’m here to see you, Applejack.”
“You ain’t with the Revenue, are you?” Applejack demanded. Twilight had insisted she use a whole new accounting system recently, and she’d been worrying about the tax mares ever since.
“Ah...no. I don’t have anything to do with...taxes,” the mare said.
Applejack stared at her companion, and, suddenly, realized there was another pony present. Or, rather, another body.
There was only one orange pony who lived on Sweet Apple Acres.
“So, not taxes, then,” Applejack repeated, feeling dazed.
“Except in very unusual circumstances, I only meet ponies once. And I don’t demand you have any paperwork.”
Applejack chuckled without quite intending it. She’d expected Death to be colder, less friendly. For knowing the Pale Horse had taken her parents when they were still young, had taken Granny Smith from her own bed, the creature should have been harsher.
“Is this how you do all your meetings? Chat me up until I let you drag me off to the afterlife?”
“I-” The abrupt change in demeanor must have shaken the Pale Horse, because the mare seemed unable to settle on an answer. And Applejack, who’d seen good friends and family pass on, felt her anger surge in the only opportunity she’d have to yell at anypony about it.
“Is that how you got my parents to abandon us? Sweet talk and jokes?” The Pale Horse opened her mouth to reply, but Applejack plowed forward, heedless of the mare’s response. “Did you flatter Rainbow? I bet Fluttershy didn’t put up a fight at all, and I’m sure you just told Pinkie how many more ponies she could meet once she was dead!” She threw herself to her hooves and began stalking around the Pale Horse. “You’ve taken too many ponies close to me, and you’re not making it better just by being nice!”
“It’s my duty-” the Pale Horse began, weakly.
“Buck your duty!” Applejack howled. “Nopony with any heart at all could take a pony who’s got other ponies depending on them, loving them!”
And something changed in the Pale Horse. She was no alicorn, but something in her stance gained the majesty of the princesses in their greatest glory. Her blue eyes became as icy and distant as the sky. She looked down on Applejack with the disdain of a creature that was unimaginably ancient.
“Would you prefer I took those who had nopony who cared for them? Took ponies who had never truly lived? When I take a pony who leaves behind those who will mourn, I take a creature who has found a place to truly belong, a creature who has had friends, has loved, and has known the greatest joys in life. If you will accuse me of heartlessness, mourn for those I have taken before they have experienced such joy! Be furious I have allowed death to come to those who have known only anger and jealousy! Because at the moment of death, I see the innermost truth of a creature. Those who have known love celebrate it in that moment. Those who have had nothing...” The Pale Horse seemed to fold in on herself; Applejack found herself wondering how much misery the pony of death had witnessed in her existence. “This is why I am kind to you, and make jokes. It is the only way I can help those who have had nothing pass on with some semblance of peace.”
The Pale Horse glanced sidelong at Applejack before continuing, and her voice, when it came again, was almost inaudible. “Those that have known love are one of the few comforts I have.”
Applejack didn’t have any supernatural ability to know when ponies were lying. But she did have a perfectly natural understanding of sincerity, and while she was aware this could be an elaborate ruse, she didn’t have it in her to let a pony suffer.
Even if it wasn’t technically a pony.
She reached out to the Pale Horse, and felt ethereal wings wrap around her as she did. “I’m sorry for yelling, sugarcube. I just reckon this is a sore subject for me.”
“It always is,” the Pale Horse murmured. “There is no justice in death. Only me.”
“And I reckon that’s why you try so hard,” Applejack whispered. “Thank you. I know not everypony appreciates it. But I think I’m ready.”
“I’m glad,” the Pale Horse replied, and Applejack hoped the sadness in the other pony’s voice was just her imagination. Because otherwise...well, it made her wish she’d been nicer to her, after all.
NO-ONE GETS PARDONED FOR LIVING -Terry Pratchett, “Mort”
~~~
Two voices argued in a place that, technically, did not exist. It was a dim and foggy, despite lacking the necessary equipment for weather. It was, the Pale Horse thought, more drama than she was used to.
“I told you I don’t need an assistant! My schedule manages itself, and, this may surprise you, ponies don’t really mind if I’m fifteen minutes late!”
“So, Trixie will accept a lesser position. Imagine, working with Death Herself! I bet Twilight Sparkle never-”
“Actually-”
“Don’t. Say. A. Word,” Trixie growled through gritted teeth. “Trixie does not care about what Twilight Sparkle has accomplished. Trixie simply wants an opportunity to work hoof-in-hoof with one of the most distinguished ponies in all of existence. Come on, won’t you say yes? Surely it must get lonely. Surely you would appreciate some superior storytelling, entertaining, the occasional massage...”
Trixie trailed off, smiling hopefully at the hippopomorphic ponification. The Pale Horse stared back, uncertain, what with her only fleeting interactions with ponies, if Trixie was flirting with her or not.
Finally, she sighed. “All right. But on a trial basis. You can help...clean the house or something.”
Trixie’s eyes lit up in glee. “And maybe Trixie can come along on some collections?”
“No. No. Definitely...I think your talents are more suited for background work.”
Trixie sighed and tossed her head dismissively. “You say that now. But wait ten thousand years, and see what you think of Trixie.”
The Pale Horse wondered if she’d made a grave error.
THERE IS NO HOPE BUT US. THERE IS NO MERCY BUT US. -Terry Pratchett, “Reaper Man”
~~~
The Carousel Boutique (the New Carousel Boutique, as opposed to the Original Carousel Boutique, which Rarity still only visited occasionally) was "Closed, by Appointment Only". Inside, Rarity was putting the finishing touches on a small tea table. There was an assortment of pastries (delicacies both from the Sugarcube and Sweet Apple Acres, out of respect to the dead), a steaming pot of tea, an elegant tablecloth edged with runes and filled with stars, and, in deference to the occasion, a vase holding a single lily.
Several weeks ago, she'd had a strange premonition, or, rather, a feeling of inevitability. She'd done some careful research, including a book still bearing traces of frosting stains, suggesting Pinkie Pie had been the last pony to read it. The conclusion was, to a romantic and dramatic soul, foregone. Rarity had been surprised to find that, according to all research, this feeling had come to her because she saw what was really there. But she supposed that looking for a pony's inner beauty, and seeking the best way to bring it to the forefront, required the ability to cast aside certain illusions.
In any case, while she was not prone to Pinkie Pie's level of excitability, Rarity knew that bucking with tradition, even one practiced only by a select few (especially one limited to an elite company), was to be done only for the sake of deliberate break.
And in any case, she knew more than anypony how it was nice to be appreciated once in a while.
Rarity picked up her teacup to take a calming sip, only to find the liquid poured through her with no resistance. She took a careful look around and confirmed that, yes, Rarity had managed to miss her own death. It was something of a comfort; she had not particularly been looking forward to the admittedly novel experience of dying. That she had managed to pass painlessly was a relief. It was with a note of satisfaction that Rarity saw she'd made quite an attractive corpse, and had managed to die quite neatly; she'd missed the table entirely in her collapse, leaving no mess. Much better than discovering one had left oneself plastered across an acre of woodland.
"Miss...Belle?"
Rarity turned to the strangely uncertain voice, smile on her ethereal lips. What met her sight was...well, the epithet "The Pale Horse" was entirely, mundanely accurate. What stood before her was a pale, thin earth pony with coat and mane as pale as milk, with sharp blue eyes that rivaled Pinkie Pie's for their intensity, and, Rarity determined, no Cutie Mark.
Correction: what stood before her appeared to be a pale earth pony. She was not so deluded to believe that Death was a pony any more than Time was.
Abruptly realizing she had been staring, Rarity gave a brief bow. "It is an honor, madam."
The Pale Horse took an uncertain step back, eyeing Rarity with some confusion. "Excuse me?"
"You are the Pale Horse, aren't you?" Rarity asked. "Ponification of the specter of Death? Only if you aren't I'm afraid you'll have to wait for an appointment with my assistant, once she cleans up in here. It'll be a few days, I think."
The other mare continued to stare before chuckling, shaking her head. "I am the Pale Horse, as you say. I am simply unused to such...deference."
Rarity sniffed. "It is hardly my fault other ponies have no sense of decorum. You are an important entity, one that does a necessary and, I suspect, under-appreciated job. Such deference is your due."
"I hope you will forgive me for disagreeing," the Pale Horse said softly. "Or at least not enforcing such an attitude upon the spirits of the departed."
Rarity chuckled in reply, part from politeness, and part from relief that the Pale Horse was...softer than she'd expected. The tradition of greeting Death, she realized, must have started with somepony more like Pinkie Pie than Rarity - a kindness, rather than a sign of deference.
"If you wish, we - or, rather, you - could sit for tea for a moment," Rarity said. "I had intended us to share a cup, but I seem to have not considered the side effects of death."
The Pale Horse stared at the table for several long moments before reaching over and snapping the lily off at the stem. At Rarity's expression, the incarnation of Death actually flushed a little. "I like lilies," she said defensively.
It was so utterly absurd that Rarity had to laugh. Not a giggle, not a chuckle, but a full-throated laugh. The Pale Horse seemed to take this as permission to finish her snack, and this sent Rarity into another bout of laughter.
When Rarity finished, the Pale Horse was again composed, watching her with the tiniest smirk on her face. And the moment seemed just right to draw a truth from the unicorn.
"You are kinder than I imagined," she blurted.
The Pale Horse nodded, considering, but then gave the tea table a more careful glance. "If you did not expect me to be kind, why did you provide this to me?"
Rarity sighed. "Because it is tradition. Because I doubt many ponies welcome you into their homes. Because it is polite to offer guests refreshments, especially if they are expected. Because otherwise I wouldn't be me. Take your pick."
The Pale Horse stared at the tea set for a long time, although Rarity personally doubted she was actually looking at the china. Her eyes had the distance of some pony weighing deep thoughts. "There was a time I would not have been so kind. Perhaps..." She gave Rarity a sidelong glance. "Would you mind if I shared?"
"Go ahead," Rarity replied gracefully, taking a seat on what her spirit still remembered as floor. "I don't have any pressing engagements."
"When a world is young, and Death is new, The Duty is all that Death knows. Death is a cold certainty, an inevitability against which life struggles. It would have always been so, I think, had it not been for a Death that took an interest. For...caring, he was retired, and forced into a mortal life.
"For those who are meant to be eternal, to lose that...he thought he understood mortals, now that he knew the terror of mortality. But he did not return to his old life until he had also learned to abandon that fear, to find reasons to risk that life, the last fleeting seconds of existence. And it was after this that he spoke to Azrael, the Great Death, the lesson each Death must now learn in time. WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT THE CARE OF THE REAPER MARE?"
She offered Rarity a gentle smile, as if she had revealed some great secret. And Rarity supposed she had; what pony would have sought out Death and asked her this?
"So when did you learn this?" Rarity asked.
The Pale Horse's eyes went distant, and, Rarity thought, a little moist, as if gazing back upon a long-remembered scene. "It was a long time ago. Suffice to say, the end result was that I have a heart. And that means, wherever possible, I will ease the passage from this life." She looked at Rarity again, expression placid and unmoving. "I think you understand."
Rarity nodded, because otherwise she would have to think of something to say. But she realized as she did that such a response was unfair; she owed the Pale Horse some reply. "Thank you. For sharing. I think...you and I are very much alike."
At that, the Pale Horse chuckled, stepping forward in a deliberate, and final, way. "I come for everypony, Rarity. Why should I not have reflections of all of them?"
It made sense, Rarity thought, and a fitting revelation for one's last moments on earth.
IT IS LIFE THAT MAKES MANY CHANGES -Terry Pratchett, “Reaper Man”
~~~
In every orderly universe, there exists a ritual, a rite, to summon forth the shade of Death. In such universes, they question the purpose of such a ritual, and in the end decide it is because it makes Death answerable, in some way, to mortals. Such researchers imagine a place where Death answers to no one, provides no answers except the inevitability of his coming, and find such a thought hellish beyond belief.
Regardless, in such an orderly universe, a sufficiently motivated scholar can find the directions for the ritual, and may, if brave or foolhardy enough, summon up the specter of Death.
One who is personal student to a sun god-queen knows little fear, and has no concept of things Mare Was Not Meant to Know. And an adolescent, knowing herself to be among the most powerful unicorns in Equestria, would foalishly believe she would be able to handle anything that went wrong.
It is these facts that led to the moment in which Twilight Sparkle first summoned the Pale Horse into her presence.
When the ritual was complete, Twilight stared intently at her guest to ensure she really was the Pale Horse. At first glance, she appeared to be an earth pony, but that was only because she lacked wings and a horn. She knew that the Pale Horse was the opposite of an alicorn, which embodied the creative forces of the universe, and had traits of all three races. By logical deduction, the Pale Horse, which embodied the force of destruction, would possess none of the traits of the three races...or, possibly, only the traits which they shared.
She was certainly pale, as her moniker demanded, with, yes, "coate pale, notte whyte as bone, whyche is deade, but whyte as milk, whyche is alive." And her eyes were "As blue as a glance into the infinite depths of the noonday sky." And, there, on her flank, was, "No Emblem or Mark, for what Sign could describe the Talent of Death, not the Bringing of Death, but the Being of Death?"
She grinned. "It worked!"
The Grim Trotter gave Twilight a cold, fixed glare. "Did you have a reason for summoning me, other than to prove you can?" she asked. "Some of us have duties to attend to." Her eyes narrowed. "As do you. A new life even now depends on you."
Shocked at the casual display of the Pale Horse's divinatory powers, and the casual almost-threat, Twilight shied away from the creature. Something changed in the Pale Horse's demeanor. She seemed to shrink, and her gaze softer. "I apologize, filly," she whispered. "I never had such an age of curiosity. It is hard to truly understand it. What is your purpose in calling me?"
"I just wanted...to know if I could," Twilight replied, terrified that, it being the Pale Horse's accusation, she would take Twilight immediately to the world beyond. "I'm sorry!"
"No, there is nothing to forgive. I...am not often summoned, and usually for a grave purpose. What of you? Surely you have studies, or can take some time for..." The Pale Horse seemed to struggle for a moment, as if looking for a word. "Your brother?"
"Maybe," Twilight replied. "Sort of. He's a baby dragon. I'm supposed to be in charge of him. But...I don't know how! None of the books in the library say anything about raising dragons!"
The admission seemed to startle Death; in truth, it did Twilight, too. She hadn't meant to say that. Certainly the Pale Horse didn't appreciate listening to her problems. Death had bigger things to worry about.
But she looked as flustered as Twilight felt; the flush on her cheeks was easy to see through her milk-white coat. "What do I know of caring for the living?" the reaper mare demanded. "Surely you have parents who can advise you. Teachers, at least? I did not think your people regularly allowed foals to wander libraries unsupervised."
"Ask Princess Celestia?" Twilight's heart hammered at the thought. Celestia was teaching her about magic, not child-care! And besides... "It's not like she ever had foals."
"Still, she has run this kingdom for more than a thousand years. She must have learned something. More than me, certainly." When Twilight hesitated, the Pale Horse sighed. "Go. Try it. If she will not help, she will know somepony who can. It will be a learning experience."
It was hard to argue with the reaper's argument, so Twilight let her head fall in defeat. "All right. I'll let you go. And, um, it was nice to meet you?"
That set the pale horse to laughing as she faded from sight, which made Twilight feel a little better.
The second time she summoned the Pale Horse, it was because Spike had become curious about death, and she thought the best pony to explain was, well, Death.
Spike stared at the reaper for an interminable amount of time. "You're beautiful," he murmured. Twilight started in shock, and the Pale Horse flushed from her ears to her hooves.
"What?"
Spike flushed a purple so dark it was almost black. "I meant-"
"No, don't worry. Few have ever said such a thing to me," the Pale Horse replied with a dismissive wave of her hoof.
Spike seemed to relax, but then he gave the reaper a strange glance, peering at her more intently. "Why are you a pony?"
Twilight could only stare at the dragon in shock. She had never thought to ask such a simple question, when she'd last met the reaper. To realize that already, her assistant was a scholar to rival her, was a revelation. And to think, dragons weren't usually known for their inquisitiveness.
"I know well it is hard to take the form of every life I collect. But why a pony, instead of a dragon? Your kind do not die often, or not quickly," the Pale Horse replied. "It seemed easier to be a pony, for all the ponies that are in the world.”
“Oh.” Spike nodded. “Hey, do you know when I’m going to die?”
The Pale Horse, if anything, grew paler. “Yes...and no. I know when you are...likely to die. But you have the freedom to choose a life different from the one I see. I cannot know for certain when you will die, Spike. But even if I did, would it help you to know it?”
She glanced between Twilight and Spike, eyes wide and watery with pleading. Twilight felt a spike of annoyance at the other mare’s condescension. She was a scholar; what would she lose by knowing when she would die?
Perhaps the Pale Horse knew ponies well, or perhaps she really could read minds (the research was unclear on that point), because she scowled and stormed forward (through the magic circle, some distant part of Twilight’s mind noted) until she was inches from Twilight’s face.
“To know the moment you are meant to die will rob you of your life. Those who have sought this knowledge have killed themselves from overconfidence, or become paralyzed with the knowledge of that fateful moment. But, for curiosity’s sake, tell me: what would you do with this knowledge?”
Twilight opened her mouth, but realized the moment before she spoke that her reply was...to test it. To seek out danger in the hopes of proving that she would last until the day she was meant to die. And if she learned she was to die in a year’s time, or a month, or a day...
“You already said it’s just a likely day, anyway!” Spike retorted. “So why should I worry about it?”
The words, as simple as they were, dispelled the spiral of worry that had threatened Twilight the moment she’d thought for a second about death. And next to her, Death stared at Spike with a vacant expression.
It took a moment for Twilight to work up a coherent thought, and in all that time, the Pale Horse didn’t say a word.
“Twilight?” Spike asked. “Did I upset her?”
“No.” Twilight stepped forward and hugged Spike tightly, a smile tugging at her lips. “I think...she didn’t expect you to be so smart, Spike.”
At that, Spike laughed. “I learned it from the best.”
The third time Twilight summoned Death, she had been called on another dangerous mission for Princess Celestia. There had been too many close calls in the recent past, and she was more nervous than usual. She didn’t even wait for the Pale Horse to fully materialize before she drew close to her (only to the edge of the circle; it still comforted her to have it there, even knowing Death could cross the line any time she liked) and demanded,
“Am I going to die?”
“Yes,” the Pale Horse replied. “Although I suspect I didn’t answer the question you asked me. I told you, Twilight, that what I know is only an approximation. Any one of a thousand things can change the time of your death. And with the possible exception of your assistant, who has demonstrated wisdom beyond his years, I will not share with anypony the moment of their death!”
“Then what good is this ritual?” Twilight snapped. “What can you do for us other than give enigmatic answers? My friends and I are facing mortal danger today. Any one of us may die, and all I wanted was...a little reassurance.” She sat down, hard, outside the circle, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. “They’re my oldest friends, you know. Aside from Smartypants, who isn’t real, and Spike, who’s...family. And every time we have to save Ponyville, or Equestria, I risk losing them.”
The Pale Horse sighed and settled down in the center of the circle. “That’s the risk you run when you come to love other ponies. Anypony can die any day, Twilight. You can’t demand reassurance that they won’t leave you; that’s inevitable. There’s no more help in knowing when they’ll die than in knowing when you will.”
Twilight stared at Death. For all that she’d declared that summoning Death was useless, there had to be a reason Twilight kept calling her. Of course she loved her friends, but having the inevitability laid out for her so clearly changed things.
“You’re right,” she said, feeling a sense of resolve building in her chest. She stood, summoning her bag to her side and turning to the door. “None of us are going to die today. But I won’t forget that they will, someday. I’m not going to waste this chance. Thank you.”
The fourth time Twilight summoned Death, it was...less amicable.
“Bring her back!” Twilight howled, only the sigils of the magic circle separating her from the Pale Horse. Death’s expression was unmoved, and the pale pony stood as still as stone.
“Who, Twilight? Many ponies died today.”
“You know who! Rainbow Dash!”
“She is dead, Twilight. I cannot change that-”
“You can! Legend says you will play a game for a pony’s life! Let me play for Rainbow!” Twilight summoned forth the chess set Rainbow had given her for her birthday five years ago, forcing herself to ignore the twinge in her heart at the thought.
The Pale Horse didn’t even look at the set. Her expression didn’t shift. “There is only one force in Equestria I must obey, and that is the Duty. Anything else is entirely within my discretion.” In response to Twilight furious glare, she clarified, “No, Twilight.”
Twilight lunged across the boundary of the circle, sending the Pale Horse shying away from her. She swung a hoof in the space Death had occupied a moment before, something that earned a narrow flicker of the Pale Horse’s blue eyes. “You don’t tell me no, Death. Nopony tells me no! Tell me, has anypony ever seriously tried to fight you? Seriously tried to hurt you? Because I think nopony ever has, and therefore, I suspect if I try, I can force you to bring Rainbow Dash back.”
“And what if she doesn’t want to come back?”
The Pale Horse’s words were like a slap; Twilight fell back, realizing simultaneously that she had yelled at Death, and that...maybe she didn’t understand as much as she thought she did.
“Doesn’t...?”
“It is my purpose to acclimatize the dead to their fate, to give them what they need to move on. And despite your continual insistence on summoning to solve your problems, I have no obligation to answer to you, or anypony. What transpires at the moment of a pony’s death is not for anypony else to observe. And no one has the right to question the only choice I am allowed.”
“But...” Twilight tried to articulate something, anything, to change the Pale Horse’s mind, but...with the rage fading, the reality of the situation was dawning on her. “I’m the most powerful unicorn in Equestria. I should be able to do...something.”
She was starting to shiver, but the chill eased as the Pale Horse drew close to her. She brought with her an unexpected and indescribable warmth; Twilight leaned into it unconsciously.
“You can remember her. She was a friend to you, and allowing your thoughts of her to hurt you betrays the happiness she brought you. You cannot bring her back, but don’t poison her memory.”
Twilight looked to the side, realizing that the Pale Horse was standing next to her. The attempt at a sympathetic expression was the last straw, and she started crying in earnest. “It’s easy for you to say. I...know I need to remember the good times. But it doesn’t stop it from...hurting!”
“I never told you not to feel, Twilight. The pain will...never go away. But the memories...will make things...better.” The Pale Horse stepped away, looking away from Twilight.
It struck Twilight that, even though she spent most of her time traveling the world, escorting creatures to the next world, the Pale Horse might have been more than a bureaucrat. She’d never asked, simply treating Death as some sort of library book. The Pale Horse had sounded like...she actually understood what losing somepony you cared about felt like.
“Do you need a hug?” Twilight asked hesitantly.
The Pale Horse shook herself and, when she looked back at Twilight, she was smiling. “It is an old hurt.”
Twilight did hug her, then, because even she knew enough to recognize the Pale Horse’s reply hadn’t been a “no”.
“I’m...sorry for yelling,” Twilight whispered. “You...you’ll take care of them...us, right?”
“Yes. Everypony deserves such care,” the Pale Horse replied. “They always have.”
The fifth time Twilight met Death, Rarity had been gone for decades. She didn’t tell Spike about her plan because he’d become jumpy as Twilight grew older, and it became clearer that, barring violence or sickness, he would outlive her by hundreds of years.
The Pale Horse was exactly as Twilight remembered her, eyes as ancient as suns with the body of a pony in her prime. It made her feel simultaneously old and ridiculously young.
Death looked at her, and Twilight saw only sympathy. “Why have you called me?” she asked.
Twilight took a deep breath. “I’m ready. Everypony I ever came to love in Ponyville is dead. I’ve done more for Equestria than any hundred ponies. I’m ready for you.”
“No, you’re not. Your life is not over.”
Twilight stamped at the stone floor of her lab and glared at the Pale Horse. “What more do I need to do before you’ll let me move on?”
Death sighed, and when she looked back up, Twilight could see the same hints of pain she’d found speaking to the Pale Horse when Rainbow Dash had died. “There is no checklist to life, Twilight, nothing you have to accomplish before you’re allowed to die. Life exists for you to enjoy. You should seek the most you can out of every moment you’re given!”
Twilight glared at the Pale Horse, feeling a strange sort of fluttering in her chest. “And do what? Make friends with ponies who I might still end up out-living? Look for ponies who’ll be heartbroken when I die?”
“YES!” The Pale Horse’s voice was like a six-inch-high word cut into stone, striking Twilight like a blow. “What is life for, otherwise? Every friend, every spark of love you can find, the greater your life is! I had forgotten that, only nursing my old hurts, until...”
“What is taking so long?” A pale blue unicorn appeared within the summoning circle, violet eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Trixie understands you cannot ignore the Duty, and the summoning is part of the Duty, but it doesn’t mean you need to jaw about wasting everypony’s time with every yokel who - Twilight.”
“Trixie?” Twilight demanded. “You - I thought you were dead!”
Trixie snorted. “Yes, well, one can imagine how that would preclude Trixie from socializing with Death.” Without missing a beat, Trixie turned her attention back to the Pale Horse. “Are you coming? We’re ready to deal, and you know Lauren doesn’t get much time to herself.”
The Pale Horse glanced at Twilight, something of an embarrassed tilt to her smile. But she was smiling, no hurt visible in her expression. “Yes, I’ll be right there.” Trixie vanished, and the Pale Horse drew close to Twilight. “She will, as all others, leave me in time. But it should not - will not - stop me from valuing the friendship I have now. Until we meet again, Twilight.”
When Death next met Twilight, Twilight had not summoned her. Twilight had been in the hospital for weeks, handling streams of visitors in between check-ups - students, colleagues, the Princesses, and Spike, who had parked himself outside her window and refused to leave. She suspected he knew what was coming, but had been careful not to mention it. He had some time after her, and she wouldn’t have her last weeks with him be sad.
When she heard, at midnight, the sound of hooves approaching her room, Twilight took a deep breath and tried to school her expression into a smile.
The Pale Horse slipped through the door and paused at the sight of Twilight.
“Who gave you balloons?” she asked.
Twilight glanced over at the arrangement of pink and purple balloons, and grinned. “Pinkie Pie’s...great-niece, I think.”
“Goodness. And she sent them because you’ve been brooding in the knowledge that your passing would cause pain?”
Twilight scowled at the Pale Horse, although she couldn’t work up any real force behind it. “You know I kept on making friends. You’ve met some of them, since.”
“Yes, well, I don’t often get the chance to tell somepony ‘I told you so,’ so let me be petty for a moment,” the Pale Horse replied, a tad peevishly. It was unlike the collected spirit she had met before, and she wondered...
Of course, until the last time Twilight met Death, she hadn’t been putting up with Trixie. “Was it worth it?” Twilight asked. “Taking on another friend?”
The Pale Horse glanced up at Twilight, startled, and her expression took the oddest turn. “I feel I should be asking you that. Or maybe not, because we both know the answer to that. Now, I think you and I have spent more than enough time talking in our existences-”
“Wait.” The Pale Horse paused in her approach. “I want to know. Do you have a name? Something to call you other than your Duty?”
The Pale Horse stared at Twilight for what could have been just a moment, or could have been an hour, and then she told Twilight her name. It was...oddly appropriate. She thanked the specter of Death by name, and, having made her final friend, Twilight passed on.
NOTHING IS FINAL. NOTHING IS ABSOLUTE. -Terry Pratchett, “Sourcery”
~~~
Spike had settled down for a short nap a couple of decades ago. With most of his hoard tied up in the endowments he’d set up after Twilight’s passing, he could take some really deep naps, not worrying about anypony taking his stuff (especially as the items of real worth were kept in his wing of the Royal Museum, ha! take that, hoard stealers!).
He was back in Ponyville, curled around the library while Twilight bustled about, working. About mid-day, she’d taken a break and settled next to Spike’s head with a book, reading. And even in his dreams, he just..dozed.
Abruptly, Twilight hurried to her feet before kneeling. “Princess Luna!”
“There’s no need for that, Twilight. This is just a social call. Spike.” Spike nodded at the princess. In the centuries since Twilight had died, he’d become closer to the princesses, both as the few creatures in Equestria at least as long-lived as he was, and because the protection of Equestria was a common goal.
“Evening, Luna. Or...is it morning?”
Luna chuckled. “It’s evening, Spike. I’m surprised you didn’t ask what year it was.”
Spike shrugged. “I’ll find out when I wake up.”
Luna stilled, looking down at Spike’s claws. He raised them, looking at them questioningly. A dragon’s scales intensified in color as they aged, and Spike’s had become dark as midnight, a purple invisible against the night. His claws, though, were yellowing, and his naps had become more frequent.
And Luna usually preferred to wait until Spike’s dreams left his recollections of Twilight before visiting him, unless it were urgent.
Unless she didn’t have much time left in which to say good-bye. “I’m not going to wake up, am I?” he asked softly.
Luna shook her head, and took an uncertain step toward Spike. He recalled that she had, in the months after her release, been skittish about the love others had for her, so reached forward to hold her in a delicate embrace.
“I will miss you, Spike,” she whispered. “You have been a brave and loyal friend to me, and to all of Equestria.”
“A good replacement for the last bearer of Loyalty, right?” he asked jokingly, earning a wet-sounding chuckle from the princess of the night.
“Never,” she said. “You can tell the girls we’ll be along eventually, though.”
Spike pulled back and gave her a curious look. “I thought-”
“Everything dies, Spike. Only Death is eternal, and even she...someday, there will nothing left that can die, and even she must end.” Her smile turned a little sad, and she stepped closer, nuzzling Spike. “It has been an honor, and a pleasure, Spike, and I thank you for all you have done.”
“Heh. Just thank me for being a friend, Luna,” Spike replied, patting her head. “The rest is just...part and parcel of it.”
“Hello? Hello? One might argue that making me wade through your dreamscape to find you is impolite at best.” The call that echoed through the dream was familiar, but not overly so. Spike remembered, far more than a millennium ago, meeting a pale pony who had asked him a very important question.
When she appeared, she was exactly as Spike remembered her. She, apart from any other creature, would not change across the ages.
But that wasn’t quite true. She looked...easier, happier, than Spike remembered. He hoped maybe she’d made a few more friends in the intervening time.
“I’m sorry,” Spike said as Death drew near. “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
“Really?” She seemed honestly surprised. “You seemed the type to have been able to expect me. I suppose you must simply have too good of an imagination.” She smiled at him before noticing Princess Luna. At that, she settled into a wary stance, fixing the princess with a steady gaze. “You are not here to interfere, are you? I had enough trouble with your sister’s student without you taking it into your head to meddle.”
Luna shook her head. “No, my dear. I am a moon goddess...I know well that every day must end, every life must die. I, too, will see you one day.”
“Not for a long time,” Death replied with a chuckle. “Not for a long time.” She looked back at Spike, easy smile still on her face. “But you, my dear, are coming today. I trust you lived well, as you promised me?”
Spike reached out and brushed the back of a claw along the Pale Horse’s head. “Yes. I never worried about what I knew would happen someday. I made sure that when you came, I’d have good things to remember.”
Death preened at the touch, or maybe the attention, and then stepped up, and up, until she was face-to-face with the ancient dragon. He felt something, like wings made of silk and flame, wrap around his body. He stared in wonder as the Pale Horse pressed her forehead against his own, and then...the dream came to an end.
The sun was dying, red and swollen and fading with every passing hour. It was just as well, as there wasn’t anypony left to enjoy it, anyway. Three figures stood on a craggy peak, where a palace had stood, millennia ago.
At last, one of them spoke. “Are you ready?”
“No,” another replied peevishly. “An eternity of peace and harmony? It doesn’t sound much like a paradise to me. Why can’t I just keep things going along for a while more?”
“The end will come, Discord, no matter how you wish otherwise. Struggling against it will only make the moment more painful.” A dark equine figure leaned to the second speaker, a strange amalgamation of parts that looked like it shouldn’t be able to stand. The second, Discord, weathered the affectionate touch, presumably because no other creature had existed for close to a thousand years.
“Well, maybe, but sitting here waiting for it seems like a waste of time. I could-” Discord broke off and glanced back to the dark pony. “Well, or...you’re right. This is boring. At least there’ll be other ponies to pester in the afterlife.”
The first, a pale pony, interjected. “Not too harshly, Discord. It’s meant to be a good place to be.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Celestia. I’ll be a good little abomination, I promise.” Discord rolled his eyes at the dark pony. She snickered.
“This isn’t a time for joking, Luna,” Celestia said sternly. “It’s serious.”
“We had plenty of laughs over the millennia,” Luna, the dark pony, protested. “I think it’s perfectly acceptable to have them now. If Pinkie Pie were here, she’d have thrown a party.”
“Yes,” Discord said wistfully. “Do you remember that last one? I’m pretty sure it was a going-away party. She seems the type to have picked up on the tradition. Shame nopony else noticed the guest of honor; it might have been less awkward.”
That brought a snort from Celestia. “Okay. Fine. Still, I don’t think we’ve got much time left, for laughs or otherwise.”
Luna nodded, and stared at the swiftly-fading light of the sun. “Well. It’s been fun, everypony. More than I’d hoped.”
“And you two aren’t nearly as uptight as I always thought,” Discord added.
“I’m...glad I knew you two,” Celestia said.
“Do I need to wait for the rest of the goodbyes, or are we done?”
The Pale Horse smiled weakly at them when they turned to see her behind them. She even waved. “Celestia. Luna. Discord. Are you ready?”
“No, I’m just dying to hang around an empty universe with nothing to do,” Discord drawled. “Come on, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
“Just one moment,” the Pale Horse said, and focused for a moment. A pale blue unicorn appeared next to the nigh-immortals. She shook herself, scowling at the Pale Horse.
“I told you to warn me before you do things like that - your highnesses!” Trixie Lulamoon froze. “I...Trixie would have dressed herself better if she’d expected to be meeting your eminences...and yourself,” she added gracefully to Discord.
“There’s no need for formality, Trixie,” the Pale Horse said gently. “You’re to be travel companions. They are dying today, and that means it’s time for you to go.”
Trixie’s elegant expression froze and reformed into a furious rictus in a moment. She stalked to the pale pony, eyes blazing. “You cannot do this! I told you, I promised you I would stick around forever. Not just until you tired of me, or until-”
“Trixie.” The Pale Horse’s voice was quiet, and even, but still fell like tombstones. “This is the end. I am taking Celestia, and Luna, and Discord. There is nopony after them. It is the end of the Duty, and that, by definition, is forever. I...cannot thank you enough for all you have done for me. You have given me more than I could have ever imagined, and...no matter what, no matter that I must say good-bye to you now, it was worth it.”
Tears gathered in the Pale Horse’s eyes, and Trixie herself seemed to be fighting against them, as Death stepped forward to nuzzle her delicately. “You will always be in my memories and my heart. But the time has come for all of you to go.”
“Nuh-uh,” Discord said. “Not dressed like this. This is the end of everything. We ought to go out looking like ourselves.”
Luna gave a small smile at that. “Yes.” The alicorns stretched their wings and seemed to fold outward, growing and shifting until their appearances reflected the powers they embodied. Flame and growth, the creative force that nurtured the planet. Darkness and chill, the passion and emotion that drove others to create.
Discord’s draconequus form melted back into the madness that made up the true embodiment of chaos, the shifting form and twisting colors that would have driven a lesser creature mad. But the alicorns were as strange and powerful as he, the Pale Horse had visited stranger creatures in her time, and Trixie was already dead.
The Pale Horse nodded, and stretched out her raven wings, the night-colored feathers shaped of night and the inevitability of the coming darkness. She had spent untold ages shaped like a pony, because Death is not something most can gaze upon. But she was Death, a fragment of Azrael, a creature shaped of night and of a shape beyond description. It was right that at the end, she should face it as her own form.
The wings could span the universe, stronger than steel or spider silk, but gentle enough to cradle a soul. Death stretched these wings around the last wayward souls of the world and carried them on to their destination.
As she did, the sun died, the world cooled, and slowly, the universe began its journey to the end of time.
I REMEMBER WHEN ALL THIS WILL BE AGAIN -Terry Pratchett, “Reaper Man”
~~~
Death stood in the void, watching the lights of the universe go out one by one. Untold eons passed as the world continued its inevitable march to death. She wished, every once in a while...
But there had been no way to explain the timelessness of the world beyond the living, or how Death was meant to be alone, and that at the end of time, she must be alone by herself. It had been a little lie offered to her companion, but one that still weighed on her. The knowledge that Trixie likely would have forgiven her, or had received some compensation for this absence, was only a small comfort.
Life had come to an end, but all things strive. Stars were a life, of a sort, and contained potential to birth life again. Even specks of dust, if gathered enough, could create stars. And so it was that Death waited until the end, when all hope that life could ever be, had gone.
She waited in her true form, because there was no creature to be driven mad by the sight of Death, and a shape other than her own was confining, restricting. There was something exhilarating about reaching out to either end of the universe with her wingspan, one of the few joys she was left.
Time passed, as it was wont to do, both impossibly quickly and maddeningly slow, impossible to explain to a creature that lived and died in a mere ten thousand years. And slowly, the stars died, and the dust drifted apart, and Death came to all corners of existence.
At last, there was nothing left, and then Death folded her wings around the universe and allowed it to die.
She stared at the emptiness left afterward; how long she spent was a concept that no longer had meaning. Eventually, she realized there was something wrong. She knew everything had died, but there was the strange, nagging sensation that she had missed something, that somewhere there still existed something that needed to pass on.
The eons passed (or perhaps only a moment did), and Death mused upon the strange feeling of wrongness. She looked back upon her existence, but found her mind lingered on the moments of kindness she had been shown, the friends she had, however briefly, made, instead of the source of the disharmony.
When she found a thought fixed on Trixie, who had been, after all, her longest friend, Death almost laughed.
To have a personality was to have an existence, a life. And all life must end.
Indeed, as she looked closer, Death found the part of her that had known and loved the creatures that had lived in Equestria. It was a strange sensation, to fold up a part of herself with her wings, like trying to look at one’s own eyes without a mirror.
But it was the Duty, to bring an end to everything that must die, and so in time, she sent on the fragment of a spirit, that had earned a heart and given her name, that had shared a life of sorts and experienced the magic of friendship.
And once that spirit was gone, Death felt a shift in the balance of the infinite emptiness, and a speck of dust floated from nothingness to being. She smiled, as best as a manifestation of primal forces can, for this was her purpose. To clear the way of the old, so the new could come.
She wondered if it would be ponies again. She had quite liked the ponies. But so too, had she been fond of those little girls, and that house full of humans’ imaginings...
In the end, the fun was in discovering what, exactly, would come next.
Death crouched and watched the dancing of newly-born motes of dust, waiting for the world that was to come.
