I often thought about the Princesses in these days. I knew many of my advisers gave their advice solely in the Princesses' memory, of what they would do, but I thought of the simpler things. Of happier lives and lovely weather, of laughter freely given and smiles unwon. Of times I could walk.

This bed was too soft. I wasn't ready to slip into the embrace of death, and certainly not my sheets. Ancestors know I'd probably suffocate. With a yawn, I placed the maps I had been poring over back on the bedside table.

"Fritter?" I called, heard steps outside the heavy, ornate door. I coughed harshly, and the door was practically bucked open in haste. Lady Lavender Fritter, Chancellor of the Equestrian Empire, bounded through the door with a look of distinct worry.

"What do you need?" she asked, breathless.

"A new bed. I know, third this week. It just isn't doing it for me." I said, trying to anticipate her reaction.

Raised eyebrows were more restrained then I'd imagined. "Of course, Emperor." she said, then coughed herself. She relaxed, running a hoof through her mane, fussing with her bun as she continued, "you know, this is you most arbitrary use of power in a very long time."

The past. Memories clawed at my vision, fighting for attention. "And a stupid one, I know," I said, "you've rubbed off on me. Ever practical. Anyway, I'm only unreasonable on the stupid things."

"Your bed choice is hardly stupid, Emperor. Ponies fret over their comfort more than you do." Fritter said, giving me a disapproving tilt of her head.

"Still stupid. My comfort will only really matter to myself, and anything that benefits none other than oneself is the most pure kind of waste. Of life, no less."

I frowned. "At least that's I've screamed to a thousand crowds, and said in a few thousand words of chaff to a hundred leaders. Ancestors know at least I've managed to practice that little spiel to mediocrity."

It was Fritter's turn to frown. "Come now, Emperor."

I cracked a tiny smile. "I guess this is the part where I tell you to refer to me by my real name, just to prove how good a ruler I am."

"But I never do," Fritter smiled back, "by mutual consent."

"One must keep up decorum. It is one of the pillars of authority."

"Another thing you've said to me many, many times. It's good to see you working."

I followed her gaze to the map on my desk. "No, just going over dispositions for crushing that Harthaer rebellion. I know," I raised a cautioning hoof, "that other ponies can do that. But it helps me take my mind off the future. And the past. Nothing grounds in the here and now like ordering troops around."

"Even from your deathbed," Fritter said bluntly, earning a flinch from me. "Emperor, you can't busy yourself with such . . . pointless things as this. There's been dozens of rebellions put down over the years. You could be spending your time in much worse ways, I suppose, but you've got to face the future."

"I know, I know," I mumbled, turning away from the map, staring at nothing. "Tactless as always, Fritter."

"I think that was a pretty nicely roundabout way of saying you need to keep preparing for your death."

Her words worsened the ache in my chest. "Ech, you're right, of course. Thinking of the common pony instead of the dying pony."

"Equestria can't have another instance of its leader disappearing without a whit of guidance," Fritter said, a familiar sentiment.

"Equestria has you, though. Half my 'guidance' is telling ponies to listen to you, or telling you how to run x or deal with y. It's quite blessed."

"And then I get to rule for a few years without you, and then die. Hopefully in such a way that the country doesn't fall into utter chaos."

I sighed. "I don't envy you, Fritter. I'm trying to fight the urge to just say 'it won't be my problem in a week!' and give up."

"But there's still a noble streak in you. Even with all your self-deprecation behind these doors, you do want to help ponies."

"Of course. Give them organization. We're aimless, without cutie marks. Weak, without magic. I think that's changing, though. Pity I'll never see it."

"I don't envy you," Fritter said, jabbing a hoof towards me, "not being able to see the end of your life's work."

"Was it ever to help, though? Was it all rhetoric?" I sighed, voicing the dark thoughts I'd been having for many weeks. "Or was it all just for the thrill of taking over a country, piece by piece, playing the grand chess game of alliance and conquest? Chess is a game of annihilation. Terrible practice for real diplomacy, apt comparison for a divided country. Tirek took everything, and I managed, I guess."

Flitter looked concerned, actually concerned. Fresh concern at these unwelcome thoughts.

"But look at me now. My dealings with rebels and upstart nations around Equestria. The Empire has many enemies, and all are suspicious of us at the most benign."

Flitter and I were quiet for a minute, staring at each other in complete weariness. Finally, she broke the silence, speaking softly. "If that was thrill, then I don't think such self-destructive thrill could exist. Nor would I have served with you. We're both idealists. Me, a baker. You, a simple townspony whose profession you always sidestep when it's brought up. Heh." We shared a chuckle.

"Anyway," she continued, smile falling, "we really are idealists. You might be more self deprecating, but you had vision. You saw past the hope of the Princesses returning and faced the reality of it. That's why I joined you. That's why I dedicated my life to you."

I shook my head. This was new, too. "Not to me. I'd couldn't forgive myself if you wasted away your life helping my sate my ambition. Ponies served me for order. For a better Equestria. Something approaching the memory of the Princesses' rule, the Elements. Not me."

Fritter leaned over and lay a hoof on me, warm on my wrinkled skin. "I served you, and I would have it no other way. You made many mistakes, and you were all the more real for it. I wanted a part of history at first. I got the Emperor of Equestria. You're a friend, and my life is one of little regret alongside you. For what, thirty-nine years?" The ache in my chest disappeared.

I smiled. "Forty-five. You're getting old, too."

"That I am."

And that's why of all the things I would miss with death, Fritter was the most painful. Forty-five years. A whole country, taken by an all too flawed pony, with a priceless assistant.

"This was a good conversation," I said, "first time in a long while it hasn't been reports. Or worse, the same things over and over. Sometimes I feel like we've exhausted every whit of conversation on ruling a country."

"Yeah," Fritter said, then, perking up, "hey, can I stay here a little while?"

"Of course."

"I want . . ." she trailed off, pursing her lips, "to talk about the past. One last time. You always sat the last few years have been a nadir, let's live out the good times, and bad. When we really lived, and weren't just planning for others after our deaths. Together."

I grinned, flat-out grinned, relishing in the purity of the joy. "Of course, Fritter. A thousand times over. Remember the beginning?"

Of course she did. The farm, Horstshire, the start of the journey. When I felt like myself.

We lost ourselves in the past.

Author's Notes:

1/3, I think. Let's see if I can get this done.