Ponies claimed Pinkie Pie was immortal.

She didn’t age like other ponies did. Sure, she looked older, and her mane turned gray just like anypony else. But the Element of Laughter never slowed down. She was still just as bubbly and full of energy as always, even a hundred years later. She wasn’t planning as many parties, but that was only because her foals and grandfoals were doing that for her. These days, the only parties she insisted on planning herself were those of her original friends. Much as she loved all of her new friends, their parties were spoken for.

One day, she slid down into her party planning cave and bounced over to the cabinet full of parties yet to come. As it slid open, it revealed itself to be nearly empty. Only three lonely folders filled the space. Pinkie picked up the first one, labeled Applejack and Rainbow Dash’s One Hundred Year Anniversary, and smiled to herself as she looked through it. Inside were pages of notes, detailing all the ideas she had for the party. A full cider bar, of course. A tournament of a half dozen video games, so the mares of honor could compete even at their age, as they loved to do.

With a snap, she closed the folder and placed it reverently into another cabinet, this one simply labeled Cancelled. It was nearly full, but that was alright. It had done its job as well as it needed to.

She pulled up the next folder: Twilight Sparkle’s One Hundred Years of Ruling Equestria Celebration. This one was even thicker than the last. It might well be the biggest party she’d ever planned, and there would be a lot of work to do to make it the best. Twilight deserved it, after all.

Tucking that folder into her mane, she laid her eyes upon the last folder, the slimmest one yet, only a few pages. She picked it up and tucked it away too—it was a much smaller affair, and she should be able to do the prep work for both at once.

She pushed the cabinet closed, and slid back up the slide.

The door jingled as Pinkie stepped into Sugarcube Corner. A young earth pony mare with cinnamon fur and shy blue eyes looked up, a smile coming to her face. “Mrs. Pie,” she said. “So good to see you.”

“Hiya, Spice!” Pinkie called as she bounced up to the counter. She put the two envelopes on the table. “I need your help with these! You can’t have a party without pastries, after all.”

“Is that Pinkie Pie I hear?” called a quavering voice from the back, and a moment later an old yellow unicorn hobbled out. Despite her age, her hooves were covered in flour, showing she had not been idle. “Ah, Pinkie Pie,” Pumpkin Cake said with a smile, coming to stand next to her granddaughter. “What brings you by?”

Spice Cake passed her the first envelope, and she paled. “Twilight’s coronation anniversary? Everypony in Equestria will want to come to that. With just the two of us—”

Pinkie shook her head quickly, “No, it’ll be alright! I’m getting a shop in Canterlot to cater the meals. I just need a few dozen orders of Twilight’s favorite pastries! It’s been so long since she’s been by and I bet nothing in Canterlot is half as good as what you make! She must be missing your eclairs.”

Pumpkin Cake looked relieved. “Oh, of course. Yes, that’s much easier. Of course we can do that.”

She turned to Spice, who had picked up the second folder, and was staring at it with wide eyes. “What’s that you have there?”

“Spice Cake?” Pinkie queried, after a moment of silence. “Are you frozen? It’s not cold in here at all.”

Spice finally looked up at her. “It’s…” she gulped, and then gave up, passing the folder to her grandmother.

Pumpkin Cake took a moment to look through it, her smile fading. “This… this isn’t a joke?” she asked quietly.

Pinkie Pie giggled. “It wouldn’t be a very funny joke, would it?”

Pumpkin shook her head. “I… are you sure? I… I don’t know if we can do this.”

Pinkie patted her on the head. “Of course you can, silly! It’s not even that big of an order, and these both need to be perfect. Please?”

Pumpkin swallowed, looking into Pinkie’s wide-eyed, earnest face. Finally, she nodded. “Anything for you, Pinkie.”

Pinkie brightened immediately. “Great! See you at the party!” She jumped, swept the folders up again, and vanished out the door.

Pinkie knocked on the door to the strangely two-toned house, and smiled as a dark brown earth pony answered the door. “Oh, hello, Pinkie,” Harmonic said with a smile. “Come in.”

Pinkie bounced inside. To one side, the house was painted in muted browns, and decorated with classical paintings and bookshelves belonging to Harmonic Melody. On the side that belonged to his sister, the house was all purples and blues, the walls plastered with rock posters and electronics. The light green unicorn there looked up and waved before going back to staring into a computer screen.

“Hi Harmonic, hi Record!” Pinkie said cheerily, ignoring that Record Scratch was engrossed in her screen again. “I have a gig for you! Twilight’s anniversary party!”

She held out the folder, and Harmonic took it. He flipped through the pages for a moment, then nodded. “Sweet. I’d love to.” He turned to his sister, and then with a sigh, took one step over the threshold.

“Hey! My side!” Record said, apparently by reflex, as she didn’t look up from her game.

“Pinkie has a gig for us,” Harmonic responded without stepping back. “Pay attention.” He tossed the folder onto the desk.

Record Scratch glanced at it, flipped it open, and her gaze flicked quickly back and forth between the folder and the screen. “Sure,” she said after a moment. There was a pause, and a few mouse clicks. “Yeah, looks cool. I’ve got some new songs I wanted to try out anyway.”

Pinkie smiled. “Oh, good! One more thing.” She pulled out the other folder. “I’d like you at this one, too.”

Twilight slipped away from the crowds for the first time in what felt like hours. It seemed like everypony she’d ever met was at this party, and they all wanted to congratulate her. Pinkie had pulled out all the stops, as usual, and she did have to admit she was having fun, even with all the ponies present. But she still needed a break every now and then.

She slid into a seat in a quiet corner of the room, shielded from the view of most partygoers by a large fern. A moment later, a pink face appeared in her vision. “Having fun?” the party pony asked her, a wide smile on her face.

“Oh! Pinkie! You startled me,” Twilight exclaimed. “Yes, of course I am. Thank you, as always.”

Pinkie plopped into the seat next to her. “Good! I tried to make it my biggest ever, but I’m not sure it’s actually as big as all the ‘Congrats on saving Equestria’ parties. There’ve been a lot of them and sometimes I lose track.”

Twilight smiled. “It’s fine, Pinkie. It doesn’t need to be the biggest, so long as everypony is having fun.” She paused, and then said quietly, “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Fluttershy? I was hoping to see her. It’s been a while.”

Pinkie nodded, her voice suddenly less bouncy. “She doesn’t leave the house much anymore. I asked her if she was coming a while back, but she said ‘maybe’. I don’t think she’d miss this, right?” She looked out across the room. “She shouldn’t miss this one.”

Twilight sighed. “I’m sure she’ll come,” she murmured, but she didn’t sound convincing even to her own ears.

Pinkie nodded. “I can go look!” she announced, and before Twilight could say anything, a pink blur had zoomed away.

Twilight couldn’t help but smile at that. Pinkie Pie, at least, didn’t change, even when everything else did. She looked out across the room, picking out familiar faces. Velvet Blue, the kirin bearer of the Element of Generosity, Spice Cake by the refreshments, a half dozen members of the extended Apple and Pie clans… all of them her friends, but not the ones she really wanted to see.

A familiar voice carried across to her. “Yes, yes, step aside, Lord of Chaos coming through. Come on now, at least let me get to the drinks.”

She turned, and it was easy to spot the draconequus blazing a path through her guests. A few steps behind stood Fluttershy, just this side of a closing portal. Despite Discord’s words, it was clear that everyone was giving the two of them a wide berth.

Fluttershy was looking around the room with old, but sharp eyes. Her pink mane had long since faded to white, but she still radiated quiet confidence. Twilight was about to get up when Pinkie Pie appeared next to Fluttershy, giving her a hug and then gesturing towards the corner where Twilight sat.

A moment later the two of them were approaching her table, and Pinkie produced a tray full of pastries as Fluttershy slipped into the seat across from her. “Hello, Twilight,” she murmured.

“It’s good to see you, Fluttershy,” Twilight replied. “You’re looking well.”

“Mhm,” Fluttershy acknowledged.

“So!” Pinkie jumped in. “I’m so glad you’re here, Fluttershy! Do you want a pastry? A drink? I can get you a drink!”

“No, that’s…” Fluttershy began, but Pinkie had already zoomed off. “...fine,” she finished halfheartedly.

Twilight looked out across the room. “Does Pinkie seem more manic than usual to you?”

Fluttershy shrugged. “It’s just Pinkie being Pinkie.”

Twilight nodded, and they lapsed into silence. Twilight ate one of the pastries Pinkie had left. Shuffled her hooves. Adjusted her wings. Looked across at Fluttershy. “So… how’s life?” she finally ventured, lamely. “It feels like I never see you anymore, after the Council dissolved.”

Fluttershy’s expression dropped, and she turned to face Twilight, her face flat. “You mean after Applejack died.”

Twilight pulled back as if struck. “I… I mean, I guess—”

“It’s fine.” Fluttershy forced a smile. “I have Discord, after all.”

“It doesn’t sound—”

Twilight was cut off as Pinkie Pie reappeared, pushing drinks into both of their hooves. “There! Got you some drinks you should drink them they’re really quite good.”

Twilight took a sip. “Thanks, Pinkie.”

Fluttershy looked away, and didn’t touch her drink. Pinkie's gaze shifted between the two of them, her smile frozen on her face. “C’mon, it’s a party!” she almost whined. “You should be having fun. We should all be having fun. There are games, and snacks, and lots of friendly people. Whatever you want.”

Fluttershy turned back and finally took a sip of her drink. “Sorry, Pinkie,” she murmured. “Yes, of course we’re having fun. It’s a wonderful party.”

Twilight nodded. “Yes. Great party, Pinkie.”

Pinkie almost believed them.

Pinkie Pie slipped once more into her cave. All in all, the party had been a roaring success. Even if it had taken some effort to get Twilight and Fluttershy to participate. Like always, she moved over to her upcoming party cabinet, and opened it up.

Oh. Right. It was empty.

She stared into it for a long moment, and then, slowly, closed it. She’d known it was empty, hadn’t she? So why had that felt so surprising?

Turning, she laid her eyes on that final folder, lying across a table. She stepped up to it and flipped slowly through it. Everything that needed to be prepared had been. It was all ready. There was nothing more to do.

Pinkie Pie never slowed down. She couldn’t, not when there were parties to plan and ponies to make happy. But today, she slipped into bed, closed her eyes, and simply… stopped.

Pinkie Pie’s funeral was something else.

It was held in the main Ponyville square, because everycreature living there was in attendance, and a few more besides. Streamers ran across the eaves of nearby houses, and trios of balloons were attached to every available surface. There were snacks and games, and absolutely nopony was wearing black, as the invitations had requested.

Pinkie’s party cannon had been defused, but it was placed in a position of prominence near the stage. A table with a sign and markers sat next to it, and the barrel was already half covered in well-wishes and farewells when Princess Twilight stepped onto the stage. Voices quieted, and all attention turned to her.

Twilight had a speech prepared, but she didn’t stick to it for very long. It was all about how Pinkie’s lifelong goal was to make ponies happy, and that she would continue to do that for as long as ponies remembered her. They were here to celebrate her life and how much she had meant to every creature she met, not to be sad. But she soon found herself just telling stories of Pinkie, and by the end of her speech, she realized she had been crying for some time, despite her intention not to.

More ponies followed. Pinkie’s granddaughter and resident Party Planner, Fruity Pie, gave her own speech, but broke down halfway through and couldn’t find it in herself to continue. Celestia and Cadance said a few words, as did anypony else who wanted to speak. Pinkie had meant something to them all.

Fluttershy sat in a corner, quietly watching. Her tears had faded by now, and she couldn’t shed any more, much as she felt like she needed to. She sat alone. Discord didn’t like being reminded of how impermanent ponies were—he’d never attended any funerals, and didn’t seem likely to start now. To most other ponies in the generations after her, she was an intimidating old mare, too wise and important to bother. Still, a few creatures came by to offer condolences. Smolder and Ocellus stopped by to say how much they’d learned from Pinkie, and that they were sad she was gone. Spike, too. But they moved on when the conversation quickly became stilted and awkward.

Eventually, Twilight came to her table. The silence that stretched between them was peaceful, comfortable. Neither of them needed to say anything to appreciate the other’s company. Finally, however, Twilight spoke. “It’s good to see you again, Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy nodded. “You too,” she said softly.

There was a pause before Fluttershy spoke again. “I… I feel like I should have seen this coming.” She shook her head. “I should have had a chance to say goodbye.”

Twilight took a shaky breath. “I don’t think that was what she wanted,” she said slowly. “She wanted everypony to be happy, even if she wasn’t around.”

Fluttershy nodded. “I think you’re right,” she said softly. She finally turned to look at Twilight directly. “It may be selfish of me, but I do want to say goodbye. I wanted to make sure you heard it.”

Twilight frowned. “You don’t mean…”

Fluttershy nodded. “I do,” she murmured, her voice almost inaudible. “I… Twilight, look around. I’m the oldest pony here. Everypony else has moved on. Now that Pinkie is gone…” She swallowed. “I can’t keep pretending that still being here is natural.”

Twilight was silent for a moment. “You think Discord is meddling.” It wasn’t really a question.

“Yes. How many pegasi have you known to reach my age?”

Twilight swallowed, and then looked away. “I thought you asked him not to do that decades ago.”

Fluttershy smiled softly, a sad thing. “You know, looking back, he didn’t exactly promise not to.”

Twilight nodded. “If… if he’s been doing it already, surely… surely he could keep going? You could… probably live forever, if you wanted to.”

Fluttershy sighed. “But I don’t want to,” she murmured. She gestured with one wing to the empty seats around them. “Nopony else got special treatment. He could have saved Rarity, or Applejack.” Her voice grew even softer. “I miss them, Twilight. I think about them every day. Every time I go to the market, or pass by the boutique, or see a weatherpony clearing clouds.”

Twilight’s eyes scanned over the empty seats, her own expression somber. After a moment, her gaze returned to Fluttershy. “I miss them too. But… as much as I can’t stand that they’re gone, I have new friends that are just as important to me. I have you. And you have me. Surely that’s something, right?”

Fluttershy hesitated, her expression suddenly pained. “Twilight… you’re the Princess of Friendship. You will always have friends by your side, no matter what.” She took a breath. “I love you, Twilight, I do. But you’re the only friend I have now. I love Discord, but not in the same way. And everypony else…” She looked out across the square, to the other guests, talking and laughing and eating. “None of them know what to do with me. I’m old enough to be their grandmother, but I don’t act like it. I’m a former Element of Harmony, and I’ve helped save Equestria a dozen times. At best, they ask me for my autograph. Most of them treat me like I should be in a museum, handled with care so I don’t break.” She let out a frustrated huff. “I can’t have a real conversation with any of them.”

Now it was Twilight’s turn to frown. “Surely there are creatures out there who aren’t like that. You could… have Discord make you young again, move somewhere else, where no one will recognize you. Start fresh.”

Fluttershy let out a soft, desperate laugh. “I don’t want to start fresh. I don’t want to become some new pony with a different face or a different name in some far away town. That’s not me. And even if they didn’t recognize me… how would I explain Discord, or personal visits from the Princess? I would have to live a lie.”

“But—” Twilight started.

“Twilight. Please. I’ve made up my mind, and I don’t want to fight about it. Just… trust me? Please?”

Twilight fell silent, and instead slowly nodded, tears falling once more. “I just… oh, Fluttershy, I’ll miss you so much!”

Fluttershy once again wished she had any tears left. She stood, coming around the table to give Twilight a hug. “It’s alright, Twilight. Everything has its time. We’re not really gone, so long as you remember us.”

Twilight enveloped the small, frail little pony in her wings, held her there, and cried.

Fluttershy stepped quietly into her cottage, settling herself down on the couch. The house hadn’t changed much over the years, save for the lack of animals in it. Other ponies were running the sanctuary after her retirement, and as the years went by she had kept fewer and fewer animal companions.

“Discord,” she said softly, knowing he would hear her.

A portal opened in front of her, and the draconequus emerged. “Ah, good, you’re home,” he said. “How was it?”

Fluttershy looked up at him. “It was a Pinkie Pie party. Everypony left happier than they arrived.” It wasn’t a lie, not technically. Talking to Twilight about her decision had lifted a weight from her, even if she wouldn’t say she was happy. “Discord, I need you to stop.”

Discord frowned. “Stop? Stop what? I thought you wanted me to ask about these things. You said—”

Fluttershy shook her head. “Not that. I need you to stop… this.” She gestured to herself. “All my friends are gone, now. So long as Pinkie was still here, I could keep telling myself it was just luck, but…” she sighed. “I think I’ve known for years. I just… didn’t want to talk about it.”

Discord hmphed. “Well, if you’re going to keep talking about it in such vague terms, I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Discord, please,” Fluttershy pleaded. “Do you want me to say it? Fine. You’ve been keeping me alive, even though I asked you not to. I’m not supposed to still be here. It’s time to stop.”

Discord paled. He held up a claw, but it turned to paper and flopped back down before he could speak. Finally, he gulped and muttered, “I thought I was being very subtle.”

Fluttershy smiled up at him. “You were,” she murmured, reaching up to take his claw, and then pull him down onto the couch with her, before resting her head in his lap. “I know why you did it. I’m not mad. It’s just… it’s past time for me to go.”

Discord brushed one claw through Fluttershy’s mane, the motion automatic. “But… you still have so many creatures who love you,” he protested. “There’s Twilight, and Spike, and Dr. Bristle, and… me.”

Fluttershy shook her head. “Twilight is an alicorn, and the ruler of Equestria. We hardly have time together anymore, and when we do, we just remind each other of who isn’t there. Spike is a dragon. He doesn’t view time the same way I do. And Dr. Bristle is a lovely mare but she’s seventy years younger than me.”

She was silent for a moment, before she added in a quieter voice, “And… I love you, Discord. You know I do. But you’re immortal, and I’m… not. You always knew this day would come. I can’t keep going just for you. I’m sorry.”

Discord growled, slamming his claw into the arm of the couch. “You don’t have to be! So long as you have me, you can be immortal! Or we can make you an alicorn, too. You’ve done enough for Equestria, you deserve it.”

Fluttershy laughed softly. “I don’t want to be an alicorn, Discord,” she murmured. “That’s not what I’m meant to be. And… I don’t want to be here just because you’re keeping me here. That’s not life, not really.” She sighed. “I’m tired, Discord. I’m old, and I’ve buried so many friends. I know it’s hard. But you have to let me go.”

Discord hesitated. Finally, quietly, he said, “What if I don’t want to? What if I just say no?”

Fluttershy raised her head at that, looking up at him with sad eyes. “Well… I guess I could tell Twilight, and she could gather up the new Bearers, and they could turn you to stone.” Before Discord could object, she silenced him with one hoof on his lips. “But I think we’re past that. I’m not going to threaten you with the Elements, and you’re right, I couldn’t really do anything about it. But I don’t think you want that, do you? To keep going, knowing I didn’t want to? I don’t think you’d forgive yourself.”

Discord stared at her, before he pulled her against him and wrapped her in a hug. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Fluttershy heard his sobs, even though he tried to hide them, and felt his tears against her fur. Suddenly, she was crying too, and it took her a moment to realize she’d started. She had more tears after all. “I know,” she murmured. “I know.”

Discord held her, and didn’t say anything more. By the time he pulled back, it was dark, and Fluttershy took a moment to look up at the stars through her window. “It’ll be alright,” she assured him, the same way she’d assured Twilight. “You’ll be alright.”

Discord nodded, and wiped her tears away with a claw. “You’re… really not happy?” he asked, his voice small, smaller than she’d ever heard from him.

“Oh, Discord,” she murmured, raising her head up to kiss him softly. “I had a wonderful, long life, but I don’t fit anymore. Somepony else is running the Sanctuary, I gave up my Element, and I’ve watched all my friends pass on, one way or another. I’m ready to go.”

Slowly, Discord nodded, coming to rest his forehead against hers.

Fluttershy nuzzled into him, and closed her eyes. “Goodbye, Discord,” she whispered.

“Goodbye, Fluttershy.”