"Fluttershy, I'm sorry I have to do this," said Tempest Shadow, "but I must ask something of you."

Fluttershy was gathering some food for the animals, as well as something for herself, when she said, "Um... yes?"

Tempest took a breath, then said, "I must ask for a favor—the biggest favor I will ever ask for."

Upon hearing the last part, Fluttershy stopped organizing the plates. She acted like she was trying not to blush. "I-is it that serious?"

"I'm afraid so." Tempest's stoic expression didn't change. "I think we'll have to sit down for this. Come," she semi-ordered.

So the two sat, with Angel watching them. Tempest could tell that some critters outside were peeking through the windows, but she didn't care for their gazes. "Fluttershy, you know that I'm a soldier. Or was."

"You don't have to be a soldier, though," said Fluttershy, quietly. "You can do other things that make you happy."

"That's true." Tempest's features softened. "Or so I thought. The truth is that I'm not cut out for much else. Fighting. Tactics. Organizing warriors. I've been thinking about it ever since we defeated the Storm King. And the truth is—I wasn't made for peacetime."

"I-I mean, we [i]did[/i] defeat the Storm King," Fluttershy protested gently. "And you've been a great friend to all of us, i-if you don't mind me saying that."

Tempest's lips curled for a second. "You're right. We [i]are[/i] good friends. We've done a lot for each other. And now I must ask you to do something for me." Her throat tightened, although she fought against it. "One last thing for me."

The air chilled around them, and Tempest could see the realization dawn gradually, hideously, on Fluttershy's face. 

"W-wait, you don't mean...!" cried the smaller mare.

"Yes and no," said Tempest plainly. "You see, having failed to die a soldier's death on the battlefield, I've been... at a loss, about myself. For a long time I imagined how my death would play out, but since that dream seems to no longer be an option, I've considered alternatives."

Fluttershy nearly punctured the wood of the table with her hooves. "But you can't [i]do that[/i]!" she said. "I-I mean, it's not fair to do that to yourself. It isn't right." Her gaze appeared as fierce to Tempest as it probably ever would, and the bigger mare had to admire it.

"You're right, I don't plan on doing it to myself," said Tempest. "I was hoping you could assist me, Fluttershy."

The smaller mare didn't say anything. She simply looked dazed.

"Fluttershy," Tempest continued, "you're a very brave mare. You're also very kind. Perhaps the kindest I've ever known. I'm sure you try your best to take care of your animals. But, sometimes, there is an animal that [i]cannot[/i] be healed."

"No..." whispered Fluttershy.

"Despite your best efforts to save it, you know it is better to assist the animal into as painless a death as you can than to try to heal it. There is no other option. And, my friend, I believe that I have no other option. I cannot end my own life. My pride won't allow it. But I feel that I can put my life in your hooves."

Upon hearing Tempest's words, Fluttershy stood still. Except for the tears. 

Eventually she said, "I c-can't do that, Tempest. I can't do that to you."

"To relieve me of my unhappiness? Of my terrible uncertainty?" asked Tempest. "No, I believe you would be [i]helping[/i] me."

"But... a-are you really that unhappy?"

"Me? I haven't known true happiness since—" Tempest eyed some of the fruits Fluttershy had gathered. Grapes, raspberries, and cherries. "Not since I was on my family's farm, near Vanhoover," she said ponderously. "We sold a lot of cherries. Some milk. I ate cherries a lot when I was a filly. Haven't had one in years."

Fluttershy wiped her tears away. "I c-could get some cherries for you, if that would help," she said.

Tempest thought back to her foalhood, when she knew happiness. She vaguely remembered the succulent flavor of cherry juice, of how such a small thing made her smile as a filly. She wondered if she could die without once again knowing that taste. "You could get me a bowl of those, yes," she said. "Please."

Was being given such an insignificant thing by a friend enough to dissuade her from her plan?

Was she willing to give up such a mundane pleasure for all eternity?

Perhaps...