Sad End Epilouge:
>The next week was hard. The bodies and the technicals had to be accounted for.
>The castle had to be repaired; the leadership had to be completely replaced.
>If Anon was here he probably would have said something like ‘this is some mighty bullshit’.
>But he wasn’t.
>Not a single clone lived.
>Even the one running ‘Central Manufacturing’ were killed by the poison.
>What’s worse is that there’s no one to take the anger and sadness out on.
“Bullshit.”
>You were never one much for swearing, but alone in the new throne room, it somehow
>seemed appropriate. There were only two thrones now. Yours and Cadances.
>It’s a good thing too, the Crystal ponies were a big help in the cleanup.
 
>They were also very disrespectful. They couldn’t understand any of the group’s sadness.
>You had to fight every step of the way to prevent a mass grave, it was a fight you lost.
>The clones were rolled into a pit and burned. Pick your battles Twi, this was one you tried.
>It’s the effort that makes the difference right? Isn’t that what Anon said?
>You don’t think he ever forgave you.
>You don’t think you’ll ever forgive yourself.
 
>Here you are feeling bad for yourself.
>You didn’t even get the ‘short end of the stick’, another one of Anon’s euphemisms.
>Flutters has been under house arrest this past week.
>Aggravated assault.
>You and Rainbow had to keep her from killing that guard.
>Cadance performed a memory spell; he truly believed that Anon was a threat.
>As such all he received was a dishonorable discharge.
>You went to go check up on her whenever you could.
>She didn’t cry anymore.
>She just had a weird hollow look about her eyes.
>As if the body was just going through the motions, waiting to die.
>She only drank the nettle tea anymore.
>She started smoking too, she found out what Anons favorite brand was from Rarity.
>Well, you have a funeral to attend.
 
>It was a small gathering, only the six of you.
>Flutters was out on special leave, she had a tracking crystal strapped to her neck.
>The Burial was taking place in the courtyard, next to a technical that was being kept there
>as a monument. It was a closed casket burial, crossbow bolt, cuts, and contusions did not
>lend well to dealing with grief.
>Everyone considered eulogies, but no one could bring themselves to write one.
>All six of you stood around the pit. Staring down at it.
>There’s a flask passed around, you take a swig, it’s nettle tea with a splash of vodka.
>Right after it a pack of unfiltered Saddle Arabians is passed around.
>You’ve only had maybe five cigarettes, and that was in college, but you take one anyways.
>Your about to light it magically, when a brass cased lighter comes down the group.
>It wakes a moment to remember that Anon had no magic. He must have carried that
>everywhere. Through the forest, through the desert, through thick and thin.
>You decide not to use your horn. You fumble slightly and drop the lighter.
>Flutters picks it up and lights it without a hitch, holding it out for you.
>In the small gleam of the lighter you can see a new feature in her eyes.
>Emptiness.
>Your suspicions are confirmed, she may be alive in a technical sense, but you know the only
>thoughts that run behind those blue pools are the hours and seconds and days until she dies.
 
Happier version:
 
>You turn just in time to have a crossbow bolt impact your neck.
>Your eyes go wide; your hands go to your neck.
>You sputter, letting out a red mist of spit and blood.
>There’s shouting around you, but you cannot comprehend it.
>You fall on your back, the blood loss, the whole day, the internal bleeding.
>It all stacks up; you can feel yourself fading, fast.
>You have enough energy for this one action.
>Fluttershy is looking dead at the guard who shot you.
>You can see her fur standing on end, her wings open up, she’s going to do it.
>Your hand reaches out to caress he head and cheek.
>You watch her calm down and look back at you.
>You smile.
>and the dark creeping void consumes your vision.
 
>Your left eye opens, you right seems to be shut be outside means.
>There’s a whole lot of blurry action going on around you.
>Why do you feel so good?
>even with all these tubes around you.
>”He’s waking up.”
>”Well, give him another.”
>Your bliss is interrupted by a sharp prick as a needle goes into your arm.
>You feel yourself begin to slip away again.
 
>The terrible curse of confusion and consciousness grips your mind.
>With great effort you open your eyes.
>Noise slowly comes back to your roster of senses
>”...but, I warn you… painkillers… be… disoriented…”
>With that several shapes enter your view. You can’t tell why, but their comforting.
>”Hey Anon… let you… be out in…”
>The shapes keep trying to talk to you, but to no avail.
>You only catch random snippets, and even those you have trouble comprehending.
>This goes on for some time, eventually the shapes leave, except one
>The yellow one seems to stay after the other shapes have let your vision.
>You decide to say something, this thought alone is hard to put together.
“Heeeemmmppth… Ahhhwwooolll…”
>You close your eyes again and slip back to your slumber.
 
>This time you wake up pretty clear headed.
>The first thing that hits you is the thirst and the hunger.
>You look to your right, oh thanks Christ.
>Water.
>You forgo the glass set next to it and drink right out of the decanter.
>”…Anon?”
>You whip back around, maybe a little too fast as your chest binds up in pain.
>You simply smile and give Flutters a nice long hug. Followed by the kiss you’ve
>been waiting for.
 
Happy Epilogue:
 
>A year has passed. Life has been quiet, and thank god for that.
>The last thing you want is another ‘grand adventure’.
>So here you are standing outside the back door having a smoke.
>You finally got a job, and best of all its alongside the love of your life.
>While Fluttershy tends to the smaller and more docile woodland creatures,
>You deal with beasties such as hydras and feral manticores.
>Most of the citizens of Ponyville were outright apologetic, if not shamed by their
>previous behavior.
>You weren't fully accepted yet, but they were working to get passed their prejudice.
>Things were getting better every day.
>”Anon?... I think I might need a hand preening…”
>You toss the butt in the ash tray and head on inside, into the cottage you now call home.
>”…I … I think I might need help with more than just preening…”
>Things were getting much better.
>”You might want to bring a bucket and a tool kit.”
>What?
“What’s going on?”
>”I think the ceilings leaking.”
“Is that code?”
>”No, it’s actually leaking.”
>Well it’s a start.