I. I Wish You Would Die
“How dare you track filth all over my pristine carpets!”
“I didn’t meeeeaan it!”
“Do you even KNOW how much time I spent with Twilight? That dusting spell nearly knocked the poor thing out!”
“I didn’t-“
“Oh, for Celestia’s sake, all of that work, ruined! Because you couldn’t use the mud mat, right?! Ugh! You can be such an awful, filthy degenerate sometimes, Sweetie Belle! These things cost me a small fortune!”
“I-“
“Argh! And you ruined them with those little, dirty feet! Ugh! Mud! Hideous mud, everywhere! By Celestia’s mane, Sweetie Belle, however am I going to-“
“I… I… Shut up! Would you shut up! Just shut up!”
“…I’m sorry?”
“It’s like this every single time I go into the house! ‘Oooooh, Sweetie Belle, you’re a filthy degenerate dumpsack, look at the mess you made!’ There’s this girl in my class just like her. All she ever does is give me and my friends grief. I’ve gotten enough of THAT today, I REALLY don’t need a reminder of my uselessness, and I so DESPERATELY want that twit Diamond Tiara to die!”
“Sweetie Belle!”
“What?! It’s true! She’s vile! She’s awful! She deserves nothing more than to die! Alone! Friendless! Without that laughing crowd of sheep that follows her! And you know what?! I wish she would die! I wish everypony that has ever made my life the living hell that I try to eke an existence from would just curl up, sad and alone, and die! I wish you would die!”
“Sweetie Belle! Wait! You get back here! That’s a horribl-“
+-+
But at that point, she had retreated into her room, a sobbing wreck. And all Sweetie Belle did that night was cry. Tears streamed down her face, sobs shocked through her body, even in her sleep, which was scattered, uneven, restless. She cried, for once she had crossed into the bastion of the Boutique, she had felt safe enough to do so. Away from public sight, away from where further teasing could escalate.
+-+
And yet when she awoke, Sweetie Belle felt refreshed. Her eyes felt raw, scratchy, but oddly, she enjoyed the sensation, similar to how one would enjoy the swollen feeling of stretched joints. She felt satisfaction that her feelings had finally been allowed to pour out, rainclouds of tears that had now kept her pillow damp, smelling of tearful agony. In a strange way, it was therapeutic.
It didn’t help that it was simply so silent. The usual morning in Carousel Boutique was fairly noisy. Rarity either worked herself the entire night through, her eyes sunken from lack of sleep and her pupils dilated by the sheer amounts of caffeine she needed to simply stay conscious. Failing that, she was generally fixing breakfast for both herself and Sweetie Belle. Sweetie Belle felt a twinge of guilt. Her words the night before had been more than a bit strong. Begrudgingly, Rarity was right- It was an awful thing to wish death upon anypony.
It was so silent.
Why was it so silent? The outside was equally absent of sound. Not a bird or a squirrel gave chirps, squeaks or sing-songs. Not a buzzing bug to be heard. The hustle and bustle of Ponyville’s center was, at least as far as the auditory went, completely barren. The laughter, the bartering, the happy chaos of Ponyville’s marketplace was gone. That was truly unusual, especially with Ponyville being more “modern” with its recent influx of a zebra population.
Something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.
Sweetie Belle slowly willed herself out of bed. She was shaking. What was going on? What could possibly have silenced all of Ponyville? Had she gone deaf? Oh please, she mused to herself, I better not be deaf. Something inclined her to whisper.
“Rarity?”
She could hear the sound of her own voice. Good. So she wasn’t deaf. But bad. It made the fact that it was so silent even more punctual. She began to shiver. It was ninety-eight degrees outside.
“Rarity? Sis?...”
Slowly, she trotted to the door. Pushing against it, however, Sweetie Belle found that it refused to budge. Frowning, she pushed against it again. And again. It refused to move more than an inch, and Sweetie Belle could hear the swish of a form moving across it.
“Big sister? Rarity?...”
She gave the door a big push, and Rarity’s limp form flopped in front of the door.
I wish you would die…
Sweetie Belle screamed.
+-+
She screamed at the top of her lungs, her vocal chords seeming to rip from inside her throat. She let out all of her breath and didn’t stop, her lungs seeming to crush themselves inside her chest, squeezing for all it was worth. Her scream rang out, and echoed across the empty streets. Rarity didn’t move. Her form stayed where it was. And Sweetie Belle was mere feet away, looking upon it, dumbfounded.
I didn’t meeeeaan it…
She had to make sure. Maybe the workload had finally gotten to poor old Rarity. Sweetie Belle began muttering under her breath. “I didn’t mean it, oh my Gosh I didn’t mean it, I swear on Celestia’s mane oh please Rarity don’t be dead…”
She jammed her head up against Rarity’s cold breast. Her ear was not greeted with the steady beat of a heart, instead treated to cold silence.
Rarity had done as she was bidden. Sweetie Belle sat back on her hauches, stunned, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Oooooh Celestia, Rarity, I really, really, really, really didn’t mean it, and this isn’t funny and just stop, stop, please, please don’t be… Don’t…”
For the second time in twenty-four hours, Sweetie Belle began to cry. Except this time, she was cut short, as the bell of the Boutique’s door rang. The filly froze, her muttering continued. “Ooooh no, oh no oh no oh no…” If someone was to find her up here with a dead Rarity, she would go to Rider’s Island for a very long time, wouldn’t she? Where all of the terrible ponies went, all of the truly terrible people, and she did not want that fate. She grabbed ahold of one of Rarity’s forehooves as the mystery customer seemed to...
“It's different now I think
I wasn't older yet
I wasn't wise, I guess…”
He was singing. He didn’t sound much older than a schoolyard colt, and yet he voice seemed… Tired. Overworked. Sweetie Belle thought of Applejack in the evening. She seemed to do so much work for a pony that was hiring so much labor. Sweetie’s thoughts wavered back to the voice. It was a soothing voice, a voice with a whispery quality despite the volume it was being projected with. The colt had a subtle vibrato that brought his entire voice together, gave it a wavering quality that was lovely, vulnerable almost. Yet the rough, gravely undertones of the voice gave it a more masculine twinge. It reminded Sweetie Belle of several colts she knew on the playground. But none of them sang. Certainly none of them sang so beautifully.
She seemed to calm down for a moment, until she realized that he was coming up the stairs, still singing. Sweetie Belle’s eyes went wide, and she grabbed Rarity’s forehoof again, pulling feverishly.
“To you, don't get it wrong, don't get excited
I wanted so much to be at rest
Now that I'm older
So be it so of love…”
Sweetie Belle had yet to see the colt to whom the amazing, fantastic voice belonged to. That could wait. For now, she had to hide her deceased sister. Her head tilted slightly. She had never thought that she’d be doing this. Ever. She was vaguely aware of the fact that Rarity, being the elder sibling, would most likely be the first to go. She never thought that she’d be pulling the corpse.
The voice simply kept getting closer, Sweetie Belle now even able to hear the hoofsteps. Every third step, there was a slight pause, and then a wooden clunk upon the floors. Good. If he was disabled or something, Sweetie Belle had some more time. She willed herself to work faster despite the hypnotic voice filling her ears. It was almost romantic in its tone, really, a slight jovial tinge, but mostly, the soulful melancholy of the song really shone through. Sweetie Belle was impressed. Maybe he sang choir. Hopefully he looked more like Rumble and less like Snips. She shook her head. Focus, for Celestia’s sake, I can’t be found with this, oh Celestia I can’t…
“You I thought I was so in love
Some say it wasn't true
Now that I'm older
Now, now that I'm older…”
She was too late.
He was right there, singing the last part of his song, muffled behind a most peculiar mask, a pale white thing with a bird’s beak seemingly stretching his face to almost comical lengths. He had a small black hat on, which went over the comically oversized black cloak he wore, which was draped a gray-furred frame that seemed almost skeletal, malnourished. But the most striking part about him was the massive scythe, several times his size, that was slung over his shoulder, held in one hoof. He seemed to be quite capable of lifting it, although movement was a bit slower as a result. Sweetie Belle froze, having dropped the forehoof of her sister, her mouth agape.
“There's so much travel
And now that I'm older
Someone else, can see it for myself
So much travel, yeah
Now that I'm older…”
He sighed, pulling the mask down. His face was sunken in, gaunt, also malnourished seeming, but his eyes twinkled in a peculiar way. He looked like a delivery pony on his first day, or a certain delivery pony on every day of her life. They were dark blue, the color of the sea and the night sky, and seemed to pierce into one’s soul rather easily. When he spoke, his voice was tinged with a slight accent, which slathered over his words like frosting on a cinnamon bun.
“Aaah, Hoofjan Saddlens. I do try to stay contemporary with my musicians, despite the almost nil free time of my duties. Och, dear, look what we have here.”
“I didn’t mean it-“ Sweetie Belle began, but was cut short by the colt speaking.
“Oh, you did nothing, me’dear. This is entirely me fault.”
“But you just came in he-“
“Oh, why yes, I did,” the colt said, “but the work I have done-“ Here he gestured to the prostate and unbreathing form of Rarity- “Was here long before I. Such a real shame. I should have kept a closer eye on me scythe. This is just the sort of stunt that Conquest would pull if he got his hooves on it. Conquest is a dick.”
Sweetie Belle gasped at the vulgarity, and took a few steps back. “You can’t be serious. Somepony has been murdered, and you’re not even… You’re not scared?!”
The colt tilted his head. “In my business, I see a lot of this sort of thing. Oh! Oh my,” he said, shaking his head. “Do forgive me manners! Here I was, barging into your home, singing underrated, underexposed alternative folk music, and I never introduced myself! Well…”
He gestured to his scythe and gave his cloak a slight flip, causing it to shimmer a bit about his gaunt form.
“I think that you can probably garner from the attire who exactly I am. Also I was complaining about Conquest. Kind of a big hint.”
Sweetie Belle’s face was the epitome of confusion, frustration, and fear combined into a single expression. The colt sighed.
“Well… I am become Death, destroyer of worlds. Normally this would be the part where one would extend a hoof, but I’m afraid that anything that touches me dies. And you being the last living thing in Equestria, I say I would not throw away my life for such formalities.”
“Wha… Wha… What?”
Death repeated his previous statement. “I am Death. Do not shake hooves with me, you will die, and I do not want you to die, because you’re the last thing that’s alive in this entire country, perhaps even the world.”
“Wha… H-how… So all of my…”
Death nodded slowly. “Yes, I am quite afraid that everpony you know is quite deceased. Fortunately, so are the flies, the grubs, the worms, and the birds of prey, so their corpses should be pretty fine."
“H… Why did you…”
“Oh,” Death said, giving a dismissive lip twill, “I certainly didn’t mean to do it. It was a clerical error. Conquest, my eldest brother, told me that the apocalypse was at hand, and I went down to exact the souls that our brothers War and Famine would have left behind. Well no such luck, because Conquest is a dick, and the apocalypse was not, in fact, this morning. He had taken my scythe, which I was sure I wouldn’t need, and used it as a staff for my powers.”
“A-a-and he killed everypony.”
“Except for you. Because Conquest didn’t know what he was doing. Because Conquest isn’t just a dick. He’s the worst kind of dick. A stupid dick.”
Sweetie Belle sat on her haunches. She was talking to Death. Death being an admittedly cute, but frightening colt. Who she couldn’t get too near to lest she wished to surrender her life. Her head tilted. “So… So you’re here to… Kill me too?”
“Oh! Heavens no! Why would I kill the last living thing in Equestria?! My, what do you think I am?!”
“Well, you’re kinda the pony that everyone… Well… Meets. Before they die.”
Death sighed. “Well, I suppose I am, am I? Though really, I’m not even the worst of the bunch. War is a violent sociopath, Famine is an annoying asshat, and Conquest… Oooooh, Conquest, I must tell you, he is Major Dickface McDicklover MacGee. I hate that guy. And I’m told ‘oh, he’s your brother, you must love him’ to which I reply, no, for, and you can finish this for me…”
Sweetie Belle was morbidly entranced in the colt that seemed so full of life despite how much he took. It got her thinking, and she had to stop for a moment, waking herself up. “Erm… Conquest is a…”
“A monumental, incredible, absolute and total dick. I really hope that we don’t have to meet him. He is not nice.”
“S-s-s-so why did you… Why did you come to me?”
Death smiled widely. He was missing several teeth, although those that were left were all pristinely white. “You screamed. I came to see who was going to be my traveling partner.”
“Travel… Where?”
“Canterlot. Now, don’t you ever go thinking that we immortal, timeless demigods go about our business without a backup plan unless Conquest decides to be… Well, you know...”
“O-of course,” Sweetie Belle replied, shakily. “Why me?”
“Well, my dear, a living thing is rather integral in a life spell. I cannot cast it, as I am not a unicorn, but you… You have the horn for it. And the life. We will travel to Canterlot, revive the Princess, and then activate the life spell upon a larger scale, reviving all of your friends and-“ Here he gestured to Rarity- “Well-loved family. To them it will feel like they’re waking up from a nap, and they will be none the wiser to our celestial clerical error! You will have much pride in yourself for having saved Equestria, and you will go down in history as the legend who walked alongside Death as they went to Canterlot.”
He gave a small grin. "And besides, the loneliness, isolation and poorly-placed guilt gets to some ponies, and they go completely insane within hours. I am here to ensure that does not happen."
Sweetie Belle sighed. Normally, she would have turned down the offer. But if everypony was truly dead…
“Ooooooh Celestia above…”
She thought of the limp, lifeless forms of Applebloom and Scootaloo. Of their families (in Scoot’s case, her adoptive family and honorary sister). Of everypony in town she admired. She had no choice. She had to do this for them. It was unfair that their lives had been taken from them because Death, despite having a brilliant singing voice and good looks for being so unhealthily thin, also happened to be a bit of a gullible idiot. Which was a bit cute in Sweetie Belle’s book, but that barely registered, considering the magnitude of what she was going to be asked to do.
This wasn’t for the personal glory of a cutie mark. This was for her friends. Her first real adventure. She wondered how Rarity would react.
“That Death character is sooooo ghastly! And that beak is several hundred years out of fashion! Ooooh, the horror!”
Well, if it would have shut Rarity up, better to take the chance. Sweetie Belle sighed again, looking up at Death, tears in her eyes.
“W-we can really-“
“Oh, no, please don’t cry, Miss?...”
“Muh-muh-muh-my name’s… Sweetie Belle…” She burst into tears, the words “everypony is dead” sinking in at full significance, like daggers into her heart, mind, body and soul. Death recoiled. He could not comfort her physically, as that would kill her, so he settled for the next best thing.
“There, now, let it all out, Ms. Belle. We shall leave when you are ready, but erstwhile, I shall leave you alone. Meet me in the kitchen. I’ll make sure you don’t bump into me on accident. For that would be… Well, fatal, y'know...”
He nodded to her, turning around, leaving Sweetie Belle to contemplate on the floor.
+-+
Three hours later, the tears stopped. The thinking had not.
Sweetie Belle got to her feet. This was going to be a trip for her friends. For Rarity, to apologize for the words that had condemned everyone else. For the personal responsibility she most likely had. For Death, in order to help him clean up a serious mistake. For Equestria, because she couldn’t help but appreciate her nation’s history of saving the day.
Now was the time to go. Everypony was dead. But not her.
And now she only had one purpose as the last living thing. To bring life back, kicking and screaming, to those who deserved it.
It was time to go.