Seconds to last

                                                ~       ~       ~

 

 

       

        When they'd all gone to bed last night, they were so sure of it  —  every single one of them just knew. They'd lain their weary heads onto comfortable pillows, soft as clouds and they'd drifted into a peaceful sleep, dreaming of grand aspirations and days in which the sun's glory shone its brightest.  Nothing special would happen tomorrow.  Why would it?  Things weren't like that anymore.  In the past special things had happened; so many wondrous things, edging on the impossible, deciding to become a reality in the very last moment and they'd been there for them, for every single one of them.  And they'd resolved them all, willingly and unwillingly becoming their centerpieces.

 

        The return of the Night Eternal and the birth of a new friendship; one that would lead in an era that would go into history books, depicting them as ponies of pure brilliance, flawless in their every aspect.

 

        The Creature of Chaos and its attempts at driving them all apart  —  so very close to its success.  But they persevered, the six friends, and they brought down the beast and the madness it had cast forth.

 

        The Forgotten Folk and their Queen, seeking vengeance for a matter long forgotten in the ages that since past.  And again, they drew so close to victory, only to have it taken away by a single, distrusting unicorn.

 

        The resurgence of the Crystal Empire and with it, the King of Forbidden Magic and His enslaved subjects.  But they learned to see the light again, their oppressor defeated once more as He fled into the shadows that had held Him close for so many decades and would continue to do so for many, many more.

 

        Lastly, the Human's arrival.  For once, they could breathe in relief.  This creature sought not to wreak havoc in any way or form  —  merely, its fondest wish was to return home.

 

 

 

        The six had surpassed many trials, their abilities always tested to its fullest extent, but they'd always come out the victors.  Together, there was no force that could possibly try to stop them.  Though  —  if they were to be completely honest with themselves  —  five of them wondered whether their aid was even needed.  They'd always claimed their strength to be rooted in the ties of their friendship, but there was no point in avoiding the fact that one of them had always carried a little more weight than any of the others.

 

 

 

        Twilight Sparkle had always been somewhat of an odd pony.  None would ever deny that  —  provided said unicorn was not present, of course.  It was hard to really nail down what made her so...  so like her and so unlike any other.  Foremost, there was the devotion to her craft.  Undeniable.  Ever since Twilight had been taken under the wing of her mentor, she'd made one promise to herself, one she would never, ever come to break in the entirety of her existence.

 

        She would impress Celestia.  That, she'd promised herself.  And as time passed by, her promise grew more and more into an irrevocable truth.  The immortal could not recall a time where she'd seen another like Twilight.  There were those dedicated to their work, great minds like Starswirl and Lightchaser, but they seemed to have eyes only for what they'd acquired at the end of their trials.  To Twilight, a failed experiment was a thing that simply did not exist.

 

        ʻI tried to learn something,ʼ she'd say. ʻNow I learned this wasn't the right way.ʼ

 

        The unicorn's spirit would never falter.  Instead she'd apply herself more; she'd seek for the error of her ways and she'd work her way past them.  Whether she actually succeeded or not, Celestia would have to admit one thing about the filly she'd taken under her care.

 

        She was willing.  Willing to learn and willing to grow.

 

 

 

        It still came as a surprise. None of them had ever known it to be a possibility, much less one that'd happen to them.  Though, if they were to stop for a moment and look back  —  look back on all the things they'd accomplished; on all the great they'd done for this world; all the monsters they'd stopped and all the times they'd been the heralds, claiming the world safe yet again, they wouldn't have been surprised.

 

        But when their friend became of royal statute they were, in fact, very surprised.  All of them, save for one.  Taken aback, even.  They knew  —  then, too  —  that things would no longer remain the same.  Despite all the promises they'd made at first, all the reassurance they'd given one another that nothing would change, they all knew those promises were false.  Their only intent was to maintain a certain peace of mind for just a few moments longer.

 

        And they hadn't been surprised when the tiny cracks began to show in a promise that had been made years ago by six young and restless mares, a promise about friendship, that would soon near its end.

 

        At this point, they could no longer tell who had been the first.

 

 

       

        It was Rarity.  Rarity had been the first to started drifting away, her focus gradually shifting towards her craft.  She'd never been one to enjoy adventure very much  —  far too messy.  And as Twilight's ascension had slowly become common practice, so the lack of adventures had too.  It simply seemed as if they'd all given up: the villains and the monsters.  Maybe they finally realized it was pointless going against princess Sparkle and her friends.  Rarity cared not for their reasoning.  She contented herself with the fact that for the first time since she'd met the royal student, she'd be able to keep to her schedule.

 

        And strangely enough  —  despite what the luscious unicorn had grown used to  —  her newest line of summer dresses wasn't met with utter apathy by Canterlot's high society.  Here and there, small articles popped up, describing Rarity as ʻ...a rural talent using sophisticated patterns and cuts, with a daring edge to them...ʼ.

 

        Seeing her own work paired with the words ʻtalentʼ, ʻsophisticatedʼ, and ʻdaringʼ sent the unicorn into a working frenzy, much akin to her former-unicorn friend.  Whereas her inspiration room had been an overly glorified storage closet for the past several months, Rarity found herself driven to the little white room more often after seeing more and more of these little, nondescript articles.  Chances were high that nopony even bothered to read the magazines Rarity had found those little publications in, much less the far corner of the last page where they resided.

 

        But she cared not for that, either.  Her craft was being talked about.  Not her; not ʻRarityʼ; not even a single mention of ʻvenerated Element of Generosityʼ.  Instead: her dresses, her skills as a seamstress, were being put under the lens.  And they were positive about it, too.

 

        More and more time was spent in her Boutique, and less and less with her friends.  Weekend trips to Canterlot turned into three, four, and five day visits.  The world no longer seemed to have a need for the element of Generosity.  But the world of haute couture finally seemed to have found an opening spot for Rarity of Ponyville.

 

 

 

        Despite their contrasting personalities, Rarity and Rainbow Dash had always had one thing in common.  They both possessed drive: Rarity in her designs  —  Rainbow Dash in her training.  And seeing the unicorn beginning to succeed in her lifelong dream, taking her first steps into truly being part of a society she'd watched from afar for years on end, had woken up Rainbow Dash.  Quite literally at that.  The first time Rarity had made her way into some sort of small-time magazine, she'd been beyond herself.  She'd ran outside her Boutique and she kept running until she'd found the first pony she could talk to, sleeping on a cloud just outside of town.  Rarity had shrieked, causing Rainbow to fall off her temporary bed and she'd began rambling.  

 

        There were a lot of words being spoken at a very high tempo, many of which Rainbow didn't know the meaning of.  But she got the gist of it and congratulated the unicorn, albeit a little forced.  At first, Rainbow had just regretted choosing that spot to fall asleep but as time passed by, she found herself more and more drawn to that moment where the fashionista had disregarded any sense of common decency and rudely awakened her instead.  There had been something in the way Rarity had stood there, rambling on and on and on that reminded Rainbow of somepony.  That drive, that devotion shimmering in her eyes, had just been too familiar for Rainbow Dash to forget about it.  

 

        Later, much later, she'd found out that she'd been thinking of herself the entire time.

 

        Somewhere along the way of becoming a hero, Rainbow had lost part of herself.  She knew that, ever since she'd seen them for the first time, her biggest dream ever was to become a Wonderbolt.  Then why hadn't she been training anymore?  Had she forgotten who she was?  Did she no longer deem herself good enough a flyer to join the ranks of her foalhood's heroes?  

 

        That last question had been the final proverbial slap in the face the pegasus needed.  Some called her rash when she made her decision, but they just didn't understand.  At least Rarity was supportive when Rainbow renounced her job at the weather station and instead devoted every waking moment to her flight training.  And her every waking moment, too, received a make-over.  The time for lazing off and taking naps had passed  —  Instead, the pegasus adhered to a scheme, so strict, not even Twilight could've squeezed things together tighter.

 

        And for all the efforts Rainbow put into her training and herself, all the bruises and the aches and the cramps, she got rewarded tenfold.  Eventually.  Her first appliance letter had been met with utter silence.  Not even after the designated period of ten weeks did she get a rejection.

 

        But the eleventh week, screaming and shouting and hollering and cheering could be heard over Ponyville as a crazed pegasus drew dozens of rainbow trails, flipping and twirling and spinning across the sky as she clutched a letter to her chest.  A simple mistake in the post system had caused Rainbow Dash one of the grayest weeks in her entire life.  But after a sincere apology from Ponyville's Post Central, Rainbow Dash could officially call herself a ʻJunior Wonderboltʼ.  Not just any Junior Wonderbolt, for that matter  —  No, Rainbow Dash would start her official training, precisely three weeks later, as ʻJunior Captain Dashʼ.

 

 

 

        Applejack had gotten lucky.  That's pretty much all there was to it and the honest farmer wouldn't go out of her way to change that truth either.  She'd been made an offer she could not deny at the time.  The farm was not doing too well and the Apples all knew.  Applebloom's packed lunch would grow a little smaller as the weeks went by and Granny's medicine cabinet hadn't been refilled for a long time, either.  They'd tried so very hard to put off the inevitable a little longer, but they found themselves running out of time sooner than they'd anticipated.  They were going to have to sell the farm.

 

        The farm Applejack's parents had once owned.  The idea alone had broken the hard-working mare before it'd even happened.  Maybe that's why she was so eager to accept the offer mister Wealthy  —  ʻno relation to the Riches,ʼ he'd said  —  had made her.  There was one thing the Apples had no other orchard in Equestria could provide.  

 

        Zap apples.  Not enough to keep an entire farm running, of course.  But enough to attract investors, and that's all Applejack could ask for.  She never cared about being rich.  As long as her family was safe, happy, and provided for and she could keep the farm to herself, she'd do just about anything.  Like selling her farm to mister Wealthy so she could buy slightly over half of it back with long-term, monthly payments.

 

        She'd been scared at first, when the realization of just what she'd done came setting in, but mister Wealthy had been right in two things.  

 

        He most certainly was not related to the Riches in any way.  He gave the Apples a lot of freedom over how to run their orchard.  The business-end of matters, on the other hoof, now belonged to him.  The first months were still shaky and Granny's medicin cabinet remained as dusty as it'd been for weeks.  But whether he'd gotten lucky too, or he actually knew what he was doing, sales started to go up.  And up.  And then, even further up.  New land had to be bought and prepared for cultivation as orders kept growing bigger and bigger.

 

        Applebloom's lunchbag had grown heavy again and Granny could finally walk all the way to the center of town again without the aching hip.  Applejack had been scared out of her mind when she'd decided to sell her farm.  But now, months later, she couldn't be happier that she gave mister Wealthy an honest chance.  And together, they made a lot of bits, just like he said they would.

 

        With the farm booming as it did, Applejack found little time in her schedule to go on wild and daring adventures and inwardly, she was glad she could leave all of that behind and instead focus her time on doing the one thing she loved doing most.  

 

        Working hard and making her parents proud.

 

 

 

        And so, another fell, drifting away from being just a part of a set, instead following her own ideals, setting her own hoofsteps in the arduous task that is life.  

 

 

 

        When Fluttershy got offered the chance to take over the veterinary clinic from old miss Tenderhooves, she just couldn't resist.  To know she could help even more animals than she already did was a feeling the pegasus couldn't even begin to describe.  For her, there was little change in her life.  Instead of waking up at seven and tending to the animals herself, she'd head out towards the clinic at that time, leaving her animals in the capable hands and care of the human who'd been living with her ever since he arrived.  Her work was tiring at times, but to know a warm meal and a house full of equally warm smiles was awaiting her when she got back made it worth the effort.

 

 

 

        Pinkie Pie never had any trouble filling her time.  If the world would stop giving her adventures, she'd simply go find her own.  She'd travel into the Everfree with Zecora at night to gather rare herbs.  She'd hop on her gyrocopter and peddle her way towards Cloudsdale and visit the bakeries in the sky.  She'd party, play with Gummy, help the Cakes with the little Cakes, learn to play the triangle so she could upgrade her one-pony six-instrument band to a one-pony seven instrument band, party more, grow tomatoes, and learn to set up a tent.  No, Pinkie Pie didn't notice the lack of adventures.  She simply never had one.

 

 

       

        Princess Sparkle had her occupations, perhaps now even more-so than before.  All the things she'd been through, alone and together, seemed to pale now in comparison.  If she'd known what it'd all lead up to, she'd have done things very differently.  But if Celestia deemed this to be the right way, she would shed any iota of doubt that filled her mind and body.  Twilight had made a promise.  And under no circumstances would she come to break it.

        It saddened her, seeing her former friends make their own decisions, all of them separating them from her.  But she knew that with her blessing came a curse.  And still, she would not break her promise.

 

 

 

        But despite all the odds pointing the same way, striving to break them apart, they somehow did not.  Though all that bound them together were a string of distant memories of times where monsters sauntered the world and adventure seemed to hide in every corner, the group still made time to meet with each other.  The spontaneity of their relation had died, and though it all felt a bit wooden and forced at times, the laughter they shared every once in a while was still as heartfelt as it had been every day in the past.

 

        And they all had a certain human to thank for it.  Through him, they had more than just memories that held them together.  Unwillingly and unknowingly, the once invisible rope that had tied the friends together, had now found its anchor point.  The Human, last common denominator of the Bearers.  It was he who'd supported them all in their personal endeavors, and it was he who still saw to it that the friends would remain to be as such.  If not for their sake, then for his own.

 

 

 

        And thus, their worlds came crashing down, when after all this time, he claimed his leave  —  the cracks that had shown in their promise, now being strained, preparing themselves to become the fracture lines of the world itself.

 

 

 

        “D-d-did I do something wrong?!” she wailed. “I'm so sorry, please—” The library was in utter disarray — what was supposed to be an afternoon most like any other had somehow turned into this.  The Creature of Chaos would've felt at home here, now.  All the signs were there too: the anger, the fear, and in one even acceptance.  All of them, shouting at him with anger and venom and desperation in their voices.  And one that remained utterly silent.

 

        In time, he'd comfort them all, but he felt like she deserved it the most.  After all she'd done for him, how could he not.  He crouched down and wrapped his arms around the shy pegasus, holding her close as she lied her head on his shoulder.  “God, Shy, no no. You didn't do anything wrong. Please don't cry.”  He stroked her mane and placed a kiss atop her head.  It made her whimpering stop, or diminish, at the least.  “Please, don't cry,” he begged again.  “Don't be sad.”

 

        “DO YOU EVEN HEAR WHAT YOU'RE SAYING?!”  He looked up at the boisterous pegasus, but remained silent.  He watched her beat her wings, so full of fury, and watched her struggle not to gain altitude from the motions.  She was seething and let it out the only way she knew how.  He'd let her, waiting until a better time.  He'd expected as much to happen.  And he refused to leave like this.  That, he had to promise her.  “YOU CAN'T TELL HER N—”

 

        “Rainbow Dash, please stop yelling indoors.”  It shut her up.  It shut them all up.  Them, for their reasons; he, finding himself unable to speak, saddened to hear her dying inside.  There's things to be learned about immortality that only time can teach.  But lessons about proper monarchical demeanor can be taught in little more than months.  She sounded every bit like her mentor.  But unlike Celestia, whom had no one to remember her anymore, they all still had memories of Twilight Sparkle, their unicorn friend.  And whatever stood inside Ponyville's library was not her.  And it didn't came close to her anymore, either.  “It's his choice.  Try to talk him out of it all you want, but if I can't do it, I've got slim hopes to see you succeed either.”

 

        “So you're just going to let him?”  Rainbow had dropped onto the library's floor, inching her way towards Twilight with her wings held high and rigid, like a predator creeping its way towards its prey.  She didn't respond.  It'd be uncouth.  Instead, she just cast a glance at the human, her expression even blanker than her voice.

        “Only if he wants to.”

 

        “Y-You should have told me about this,” the voice on his shoulder came.  “We could have talked first.”  He pushed her off, gently.  It was just a soft nudge, asking for some room, but its intention lost on her, Fluttershy almost felt her heart break at the motion.

        “No, Shy. I didn't.”  He looked at her, tears brimming in her eyes and already his resolve became weary and uncertain.  The others seemed to have bottled their emotions for now, their sole focus lying on the two of them.

        “B-but wh—”

“Because you would have asked me to stay.”  Ever so softly, she nodded.  Just the smallest amount of hope seemed to show on her face, that perhaps, he'd consider. That maybe, he'd stay for her. “And I would have said yes.”

        She lunged towards him, wrapping herself around his neck.  Her sorrow was cold to the touch, rolling over his skin slowly, accusingly slowly.  “Please, I p-promise I w-won't sleep in your bed anymore.  A-anything y—”

        His hand brushed down her neck, shivers rolling down her spine at what might the very last time he'd touch her.  “Hey, you don't have anything to do with this, okay? You were just s—”

        “I'm not actually scared of lightning!” she wailed into the nape of his neck. "Please, please...  please don't go."

 

        “Anon?”  Fluttershy still hung on his neck, hoping that, if she could just stay where she was right now, that he'd have to stay.  He looked up, as much as his hindrance allowed him.  In front of him, Applejack stood, her expression troubled but most of all, betrayed.  “Don't you like us anymore?  I...  thought you liked us.”

 

        She'd told him.  That they'd all try to make him stay.  He'd been bold and confident, claiming he'd explain it to them all properly, making them understand why he had to.  But now, in the moment itself, that confidence seemed to have found a most excellent hiding spot, unable to be found anywhere by the human.  He let go off Fluttershy with one arm, holding it open for Applejack to come.  “Come here.  All of you, just...  just come here.”  Far sooner than he'd expected, they'd all found a spot to cling to him.  All, but one.  “I love you.  All of you, I love you.  You need to know that before...  before I—”

        Again, the southern drawl came, though this time decisively sounding hurt, crackling as she spoke, “If you loved us, if you REALLY loved us, you'd stay.”

        “I thought at least you'd understand me, AJ.  I thought you'd get it.”

“Well, I don't.”

 

        The way he sat there now, all of them united again, though trough worrisome means, only made it harder on him.  “This isn't home.  And I love you, I really do.”  He felt the meek pegasus whimper and sob against his chest.  Every fiber in his body screamed at him to comfort her, to make her feel safe by any means necessary.  “But I don't belong here.  I've been living here so long now, but I haven't been living here.”

 

        He felt a shove in his sides, her hooves kicking against his ribcage as she had to pump her wings again. “THAT'S—”  She couldn't stifle her sob, almost as if she were being choked.  But through her tears, through those bloodshot eyes of hers, through her strained throat, she had to shout. “THA—”  Like a punch to the guts it came, time and time again.  “TH—”  And again.  “TH—”  The anger in her voice had long since left, as she struggled to fill her lungs.  Rarity rushed to her side, stroking the pegasus's back, telling her to ease her breathing.  Rainbow slumped through the ground, a steadfast pool growing underneath her. “Th...th... that's... n-not true,” she whimpered.  

 

        “She's right and you darn well know it,” Applejack added, refusing to break away from him as well.  But whereas Fluttershy would collapse if he were to let go of her, Applejack already had.  She couldn't be seen like this, not even by her friends. “You've always been welcome here.”

        “You've always been welcome with your aunt and uncle.  But you left them, didn't you?”  The farmer pushed herself of him, her shame and inhibitions suddenly forgotten, leaving only a frighteningly quiet Pinkie resting her head in his lap and a Fluttershy who'd adopted the skill of crying without sound.

        “Those two haven't gotten the faintest to do with each other!”

“I think they do.”  He didn't wait for her retort, knowing that in her fit, there'd be no reasoning with her. “You love your aunt and uncle, I'm certain of that.”  A quick nod, her mane disheveled.  “But you came back to Ponyville, back home.  You don't belong with them, even if you care for them.”  He turned to look over his shoulder, at the alicorn of amethyst, unmoving.  “I've been thinking about it for months.  Ever since I knew she could make me go b—”

 

        “YOU ASKED?!”  There's only one pony that could shriek that high.  Only one pony that might just have even more poise and grace than Princess Sparkle.  Effortlessly at that.  And that one pony could make the alicorn take a frightened step back as she paced towards her.  “YOU ASKED HIM TO LEAVE US?!  WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?!”

        “Rarity.”  All of them were quieter than statues, fearing for what stood in front of Princess Sparkle.

“I DON'T KNOW WHAT CELESTIA DID TO YOU—” “Rarity!” “—AND I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU DO IN YOUR FRILLY LITTLE CASTLE WEARING YOUR FRILLY LITTLE CROWN!”  Poise and grace both seemed to be forgotten entirely by the enraged fashionista, as her accusations hit the alicorn in the face. “BUT I WILL NOT LET MY FRIEND BE TAKEN AWAY FROM ME BY SOME JEA—”

 

        This time, his nudge wasn't nearly as gentle as he rose to his full length, rushing his way in between both mares.

                                        “WILL YOU SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY!”

 

        Panting, they stood opposite one another, anger burning readily in both their eyes. “Don't you dare.”  His words dripped out of his mouths, laced with daggers.  “Don't you dare say another bad word about your friend.”  Her mouth already opened, her retort eager to jump of her tongue and strangle the alicorn behind him.  “I won't hear another word of this.  You're supposed to be friends, goddammit!”  He pointed at Twilight. “She didn't do anything wrong!”  Then at Fluttershy.  “You didn't do anything wrong.”  Applejack.  “You didn't do anything wrong.”  Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Pinkie.  “None of you did anything wrong!  If you're looking for someone to be mad at, be mad at me!”  He looked back at Rarity, the stern look in his eyes causing her to shiver.  “She didn't ask me to leave.  She told me she'd found a way to send me back, almost half a year ago!  I've been thinking about going back every day since.”  The anger now rose steadily in him, though he knew he'd only regret it, were he to let it take control over him.  “I haven't seen my family for almost four years.”  He looked around the library, halting at the blonde mare, her coat matted and her eyes strained.  “And I've known I could go back for almost half a year.  I could've gone back a long time ago, Applejack.  But I stayed.  Look me in the eye and tell me I don't love you all.”  His anger dissipated, and hers too.  Instead, they both found sorrow.  “I want to go home and see my family.  And I'm sorry for thinking you'd understand that.”

 

        “What about us?”  The fabric of his shirt vibrated with her voice.  He looked down and brought his hand atop her head, her curls gradually falling flat in his touch.  “We're family too.”

        “Pinkie...”

        The earth pony sniffled, once.  “Will you come visit us sometime?”  He cocked his head towards the alicorn.  The first display of emotions crossed her features as she shook her head.

        “I've found the leyline that brought you here.  But once you go back, it'll shatter and the chance that you'll ever come back...  none.”

        Pinkie didn't answer, she didn't want to.  There had to be a way...  He stroked her mane, and she cried.

        “I'm sorry I wasn't good enough, Anon.  If I'd make you smile more, you'd be happy here, too.  But I d-don't want you to be sad, because then I'd b-b-be ev-v-v”

        He fell to the ground; there was no other way to put it.  The fastest way towards her would be to let himself fall on the floor and so he did, the hardwood trying its very hardest to crush his tailbone on impact.  He dragged her in his lap and she nuzzled his face.  “You are THE best friend I could think of and you are without a doubt THE coolest auntie I've ever had.”  He felt her giggle into the nape of his neck.  “Don't apologize for anything, Pinkie.  You're wonderful.  I'm just too selfish to appreciate what you all did for me.  And I'm sorry for that, but I made my decision.”

        “I'm going to miss you, mister Spacemonkey.”  He opened his eyes and looked at the scene in front of him:  Applejack desperately trying to get Fluttershy to sit up, Rarity trying her best to comfort Rainbow Dash who didn't seem to have the strength to move at all, and the alicorn standing next to him, her eyes closed in grief.  He looked at the scene in front of him.  The six of them, closer than they'd been in a long time.  

        “And I'm going to miss you calling me mister Spacemonkey,” he said, tightening his hug with the pink pony.

 

        There was a gentle pressure on his shoulder, opposite of Pinkie's head and in his peripheral vision, strands of purple and pink danced. “I don't want you to go.”  She sounded old, worn even.  Life at the castle hadn't done her well.  She'd grown taller, yet having lost weight, she looked famished.  Where once her smile had been a beautiful piece of art, now it seemed to be something of nonexistence  —  Instead replaced with a tired look in her eyes and matching wrinkles to show for it.

        “You could keep me here.”

 

        “I know,” she said.  “And you know I won't do that.”

 

        He let his head fall to the side, coming to lean against her.  If he closed his eyes, she was still every bit as soft as she used to be.  She still smelt like lavender and freshly cut grass.  If, in that moment, she'd have laughed that beautiful giggle of hers, he would've told them he'd stay.

 

 

 

        The library remained silent.  

 

        “I'm sorry.”  He heard her exhale, and their chests turned hollow and cold.  Twilight's Sparkle's dying breath had been passed upon his shoulder.

 

        The weight lifted itself off his side. “Me too, Anon.  I should have never told you.”

 

        For the first time of the day, he heaved a sigh as he addressed the entire group.  “You were all friends before I came here.  And you'll always be.”  They all turned to look at him.  Rarity, now oddly quiet as she sat next to Rainbow Dash, spoke up softly, her gaze aimed at the ground; whether she was looking at some off-point on the floor or at her friend, he couldn't tell.

 

        “...Things have changed.”

 

        “Then change them again!  You're all leading different lives now, but that doesn't mean you aren't still the same ponies you were when I first met you.  What you had, what you still have, is a wonderful thing and it'll take effort to keep it.  Effort and sacrifice, but you have to promise me that you'll all try.  Promise me that you'll make time for each other, every week, no ifs or buts.  You have to promise me.”

 

        Out of the silent stillness, a single hoof rose, drawing a cross in the air.  “I promise.”

 

 

 

        This time, Pinkie'd been the first of them all.

 

 

 

                                                ~       ~       ~

 

 

 

        In silence, they all stared at the intricately waved pattern of gems and objects alike on the ground.  To say that anyone  —  sans Twilight herself  —  in the library's backroom knew what the precise purpose of this was would be a lie; though they all knew that a spell requiring such preparation could only be successfully performed by four creatures on this world, one of them currently being a statue.  They'd been standing there for minutes on end, uncertain of what to say, what to do or what to think.  There'd be no talking him out of it anymore.  They knew that much.  

        Once she'd found the strength to get up, Rainbow Dash had been completely silent, refusing to do so much as look at him anymore.  Rarity stood at her side, a cyan wing draped over her back as they sought support against one another.  Fluttershy, on the other hoof, had decided that she'd make the most of these last few minutes, or hours if she was lucky.  She hung on his neck as he carried her, nuzzling herself against him, telling him how much she cared for all he'd ever done for her.  In her mind, the knowledge that it wouldn't change the outcome tried to make itself more apparent with each passing moment, but Fluttershy pushed it back just a bit further each time.  Even if she couldn't make him stay, she'd make sure he'd leave them with not an instance of doubt in him about how much she cared for him.  Pinkie's hair still hung limply down her face; though, when he looked at her, she'd make sure to smile at him.  If her friend wanted to go home, she wouldn't stop him.  And she didn't want him to see how sad he made her by doing so, either.  She just needed to smile a little longer.  Then she could go home and go to bed so she could dream this day away, dream that today never happened, and dream about a day in the sun where she'd go on a picnic with her human friend.  In the end, he'd been right and Applejack understood.  She understood that sense of longing to belong.  If her own grandmother, her brother and her little sister couldn't stop somepony as stubborn (ʻheadstrong,ʼ she'd called it at the time) as herself, then what chance did they have to try to stop him?  

 

        “When you're ready.”

 

 

 

        The situation was awkward and forced, though if there were one pony who'd had more than her fair share of experiencing those, it had to be her.  “Darling, I...  I just don't know what to say to you.  I'm at a loss for words.”

        “I'm going to miss you, Rarity.”  He crouched down and reluctantly, Fluttershy let go of him.  Rarity took her position swiftly, her head on his shoulder.

        “...Y-You're making me ruin my make-up.”  She could've stayed there for hours, basking in his warmth and his smell.  He'd always had his approach of comforting them all in their own unique ways.  To her, a simple cuddle sufficed.  Now, already, she realized just how much she'd come to miss those cuddles.

        “It'll all be fine, I promise.”  He gently kissed her cheek.  Then, they let go of each other.

 

        In her place, Applejack came to stand in front of him instead, uncertainty and hesitation as clear as sunlight on the farmer's face.  She pawed at the floor and nodded.  “Be safe out there, will you?”

        They looked at each other in silence and he tilted his head, beckoning her.  Applejack wasn't much for showing affection in public, but knowing this'd be the last time she'd ever see him again, she couldn't stop herself from walking towards him, tears steadily running down her freckled cheeks.  “Hey,” he shushed her, stroking her cheek with the palm of his hands, “who are you and what did you do with my brave friend Applejack?”

        The farmer let out something in between a chuckle and a sob. “S-shut up.”

        “You're going to be fine, AJ.  You're not alone.”  He placed his lips on her cheek.

 

        And Rainbow took her place.  She stood in front of him, looking at his feet.  Her wings twitched and spasmed, their feathers all in disarray.  They were separated by barely an arm's length, yet to her, it seemed like the hardest journey she ever encountered.  “I want two,” she muttered.  She blundered into his arms, ramming herself against his chest.  The blow emptied his lungs, and he felt grateful to feel physical pain for a change.

        “You want to what, Rainbow?”

        She pounded a hoof against his sternum and for the first time since, she turned to look at him.  There was still so much anger in her eyes and he knew that there would be for a very long time to come.  “Two,” she sobbed, “You have to give me two!”

        He stroked her mane and kissed her: once left, once right. “I'm sorry I can't do more.”

        “But you can!  Just stay!  You don't have to go!  Just...”  She looked him in the eyes and felt the anger and the pain in her chest that had melted in his touch return, icy spikes piercing her insides.  “...stay, please.”  The look on his face told her all she needed to know.

        “I'm sorry, Rainbow.  I really am.”

 

        Pinkie didn't hesitate when she walked towards him, nor did she when she perked herself up straight and wrapped her forelegs around the human, bringing him in for the best hug she had to offer him.  She nuzzled his face, bearing her smile.  And she whispered in his ear,  “I hope you'll be happy, Anon.  I really want you to be happy.”

        Though the effects of Rainbow's blow had worn off, he still found his breathing to be labored and painful.  “Keep an eye open for them, will you?”  He felt her coat brush across his cheek as she silently nodded her head.        “...I promise,” she said, shuffling back.  He gave her a kiss, and she gave him a smile.

 

        And then, she could finally take her position again, tightly bound to his neck.  Like in all aspects of her life, Fluttershy was quiet.  Soundlessly, she showed her remorse.

        He closed his eyes and for a while, they just sat together on the ground, not sharing a single word.  There was no need for that anymore.  “Please don't make this harder than it has to be, Shy.”

        “I love you.”  Without a trace of shyness, she said it again, loud, for all to hear, “I love you.”

“I...”  His hand ran in ellipses down her back.  In the downs, her coat was soft and smooth; in the ups, rough and coarse.  The pattern, its repetition, they became numbing, until he was barely aware of the fact that he was touching her anymore.  They'd found each other, two kindred souls  —  so very different and perhaps even more-so alike.  Under any other circumstances, he'd have known his answer, might have given her all she wanted.  

        He opened his eyes and beheld the pattern splayed out on the ground in front of him: the results of her efforts, days worth of Twilight's preparation.  And again, he sighed.  “...I know.”  He placed his hands on her shoulders and he knew she'd struggle.  At first, she shook her head, but when he began to distance himself from her, she began to whimper.  She began kicking at the ground, anything to keep her with her human for just a second longer.  And when he kissed her cheek, she cried out.

        “No!  You have to stay!  You have to stay with me!”  He stood up straight again, walking into the middle of the circle, just like she had told him to.  “Y-You need to help me with the animals!  You can't leave—”

        “If there was another way, Shy, I swear I'd...”  He looked around the room, helplessly, at what he'd leave behind him now, the years he spent here barely feeling like days.  “I'd...”  

        There was something, some innate force that prevented her from running into that circle and clinging to him for dear life.  She wanted to scream, but found herself unable to say a single word anymore.  All she could do was to stand there, alongside her friends; the six of them defeat for the first time since they'd met.

        “...I'm sorry.”

 

        He turned to look at the alicorn princess, who'd kept quiet the entire time.  He nodded.  

 

        “I want you to know...  that it's been an honor.”  The lessons she'd been taught for months now had borne their fruits, her voice steady, unwavering despite her pain. “To be your friend.  And if they're all like you, then I think I understand why you want to go back.”

 

        Her words were heart-spoken, there wasn't a fragment of doubt in his mind about that.  But she sounded so...  

        He thought back of when they'd first met.  He thought about that radiant smile of hers.  And he looked at her now, less than the shadow of a ghost.

 

        “Goodbye everyone.”

 

 

 

        Pinkie held a depressed Fluttershy at her side and weakly waved, mouthing him ʻByeʼ.  Rarity attempted a smile, though her head soon joined the others, staring at the floor.  

 

        Twilight stepped forward and closed her eyes.  The drop of a pin could be heard in the library: no more muffled sobs, nor hushed whispers of reassurance to one another.  Shortly after he realized that they hadn't gone quiet, but that he was being closed off from them.  As the realization hit him, it grew visible  —  briefly he wondered whether there was a connection to be made there, but in the end, it wouldn't matter for much longer.  Strands of luminescent matter began to ran in between the shapes Twilight had carefully placed on the ground and a pressure begin to push on his form.  He panicked at the foreign sensation, on the edge of calling out to Twilight to ask her whether this was supposed to happen.  But as he looked at her, he quickly held his words to his own.

        Beads of sweat ran down the alicorn's face and there was only one word that could describe the soundless sight in front of him.  Where earlier he had thought the former-unicorn looked older, now she looked every bit as ancient as her powers were.  Her wings had flared themselves out completely, their wingspan easily doubling that of any other pegasi he had ever seen.  Her aura, usually a warm and vibrant red now burned in a neutral white, monotone and bland  —  as if it were emotionless, devoid of any recognizable feature, and belonging to no one.  Her countenance was twisted in wry ways and in his last reflective moment, he was very glad he could not hear anything.

 

        She cried out in agony.  

 

        Then he vanished.

 

 

 

                                                ~       ~       ~

 

 

 

        They had looked at the ground, all of them  —  even Twilight.  They didn't want to see him leave.  And they hadn't.

       

        Twilight had been the first to walk out of the room.  Her aura hadn't dissipated fully yet, the room still filled with her magical radiance, as she had walked back into the library's main room.  The others had followed her swiftly, except Fluttershy.  She wanted to stay for a little while longer.  Pinkie asked her to come with the others.  ʻJust a little while longer, please,ʼ she'd said.

 

        The trotting of hooves resounded on the wood, accusatory loud to showcase the silence in the room.

 

        Rarity made her way towards Twilight, trying to meet the alicorn's gaze. “Twilight, dear, I want to apologize to you for my... outburst earlier.  I shouldn't have—”

 

        “It's okay,” she said.  “I hate me too.”  Twilight blindly trotted up the stairs, moving solely on old instincts.  

 

 

 

                                                ~       ~       ~

 

       

 

        With a lazy flick of his claws, the second-to-last twirled into the air.  And into his maw.  Spike patted his stomach and heaved a content sigh.  He flicked to the next page in his comicbook and limply began feeling around again in the small bowl of crimson-red gemstones.  Looking down at this side, he noted only one remained.  It had been too good to be true, of course.

 

        When Twilight's change had passed, she'd kept living in the library, at first.  But as her duties called her to the castle more and more, it began to grow annoying for her to keep having to return to Ponyville.  Little more than just a few days after, she'd called the adolescent dragon downstairs.  He'd seen it coming, though not in the way that things had played out.  Twilight would go back to live in the castle in Canterlot.

 

        But he couldn't come.  They needed somepony — or someone, in this case —  to run the library.  ʻThink of it as your own home now.  You can even have the big bed now.  I-Isn't that what you wanted?ʼ

 

        It's weird how the things you want the most always turn out to be so different when you actually manage to have them.  There's always a price to pay, a sacrifice of some sort, that gives the entire thing a sour taste every time you think of it, tainting the experience itself.

 

        He'd slept in the big bed once.  The next night, and every night after, he'd slept in his basket again, waiting for Twilight to come back and fill the big bed.

 

        She still visited sometimes.  When her schedule allowed her to.  But Spike couldn't say he enjoyed those visits much.  They always spent them doing the same thing.

 

 

        He flicked the last Fire Diamond in his maw, savoring its flawless taste.

 

        Spike didn't know why she'd suddenly shown up on his doorstep, claiming she'd be back for a few days.  At first, he'd hoped that maybe she'd be back for good, that things could change now, back to how they were before.  But he hadn't seen her at all the past few days.  She'd locked herself in the library's backroom, saying something about not wanting to be disturbed.

        He'd seen it before in the past: how Twilight could completely lose herself in an experiment.  But even then, she'd sleep.  Eventually.  And she'd join him for dinner.

        Now, he hadn't seen her at all since she'd shown up.  He didn't know whether he should think of that as a good thing or not.

 

        Earlier today, he'd been more sure.  He'd gone to the backroom to look for Twilight, to go ask her to go out for some food, maybe they could talk.

        But she hadn't been there.  There'd been a giant mess on the floor, but that'd been all as well.

 

        The dragon had groaned, already fully realizing that he would be the one that'd have to clean up her mess.  But not on his free day.  This was his library now, she'd said.  Well, then he'd run it his way, too.

 

        He'd dragged himself back towards the door, already dreading the task that awaited him tomorrow, halting curtly when he saw them.  Fire Diamonds, seven of them to be precise.  The rarest and without a doubt, most delicious gemstones Spike could think of.

        They'd just lain there, in a corner on the floor.  She wouldn't notice, and even if she did, he'd just tell her he'd been cleaning.  He couldn't leave a treat laying on the floor, especially not one that tasty.

 

        Sometimes, just sometimes, it wasn't all that bad, being Princess Sparkle's assistant.

 

 

 

                                                ~       ~       ~

 

 

 

        The second-to-last step creaks.  She'd always made sure to avoid stepping on that one when she'd been working way into the early hours on one of her theories, mindful of the growing baby-dragon and his need for at least seven hours of nightrest.

 

        Now, Twilight jammed her hoof down on the thing without care or remorse.  It didn't creak.  It groaned, roaring in pain.  But Twilight was just as deaf to the world as she was blind.  There was only thing for her left to do.

        She opened the door with her hoof.  He'd never made any changes to the room and right now, Twilight was very grateful for that.  She could pretend.  That's all she could do anymore now, too.

 

        She fell into her bed and shivered.  The princess had told her about her first goodbye.  She'd taught Twilight how to be brave and how this was just how things were meant to be for their kind.

        Celestia always had a lot of hollow words at the ready.

 

 

        “Spike?”  Her voice cracked in sincerity.  She heard the dragon shift in his basket.

 

        “Yeah, Twi?”

 

        “C-can...  Can I hold you?”

 

 

        The dragon sighed quietly.  Every time she came around, they'd do the same thing.  Twilight'd never been a pony who could deal with stressful situations.  And all the responsibilities she bore now, it wasn't right for her, it wore her down.  There'd been a time where he'd tried to convince her to tell Celestia about this, about the breakdowns.  But she shook her head and when he asked her why, she only told him he wouldn't understand.  

        But still, this pony had raised him from his egg.  He owed her his life.  And though it might not be much, if holding him made her feel just a little better, it was buried in his heart to do that much for her.

 

        He crawled into the bed and wriggled himself underneath the covers.  He felt her wrap her forelegs around him and snuggled himself against her.

 

        Her breathing was ragged.  He arched his back, pushing into her coat a little and lied his claws on her hooves, his heart pounding against them.

 

        “Do you remember when you were little?”  She sobbed.  “We used to do this all the time.”

 

        “Y-yeah, Twi.  I remember.”

 

        The unicorn closed her eyes and breathed in, focusing on the warm form pressing against her.  Of course, it'd feel like this, the first time.  Having to leave them behind.  But she knew it'd happen over and over again.  That was her blessing and her curse.  

 

        And the first would always be the worst.

 

                If only once she could break her promise.  

 

                        If only she hadn't told him.

 

                                If only.

 

 

 

        “Those were good times.”

 

 

 

                                                ~       ~       ~