Twilight the Hassenfeld Pony - Epilogue [capped]

This story proceeds Twilight the Hassenfeld Pony II.

Anon gets a new Twilight Sparkle, from whose perspective this is told. Anon has changed and the perspective of his new Twilight contrasts with that of the original to reflect this.

Part I: * https://derpibooru.org/1383816 *
Part II: * https://pastebin.com/ACt8jMmm *
Cap of the below Epilogue: * https://derpibooru.org/1479640 *

_____________________________________________________________
---------- Twilight the Hassenfeld Pony - Epilogue ----------


>You are a Hassenfeld Pony.
>Your name is Twilight Sparkle.
>Anon, your caretaker, will be home in two hours. Anon doesn't make you do chores, but you enjoy giving back to the caregiver who means everything to you and cares for you in every way.
>Even if you didn't belong to him on paper, you would choose to belong to him. You are glad that Hassenfeld ponies are not free, for if you were, you could not be his.
>When you were six months old, you asked Anon for a book about Hassenfeld ponies. You were curious because you are Twilight Sparkle — the bioengineering company designed you this way — and you learned that you love Anon because he imprinted on you.
>You were made to love and be loved, and loved you are and love. There could not be a more beauteous purpose than this.
>You wonder if Anon's previous Twilight felt the same way.
>You return to reading Sarte.

>"Existence precedes essence," Sarte writes. "What do we mean by saying that existence precedes essence? We mean that man first of all exists, encounters himself, surges up in the world – and defines himself afterward. If man as the existentialist sees him as not definable, it is because to begin with he is nothing. He will not be anything until later, and then he will be what he makes of himself. Man is condemned to be free."
>Crosby expounds, "Strut, fret, and delude ourselves as we may, our lives are of no significance, and it is futile to seek or to affirm meaning where none can be found."
>Existentialism applies neither to you nor any Hassenfeld pony; the Hassenfeld paradigm inverts it. For man, existence precedes essence, and he must then define himself in a meaningless world lost on a path he trailblazes blind burdened by the self he wrought by choice to which he freely condemns himself.
>For you, essence precedes existence. Hassenfeld Brothers sculpted you before you existed with the kernel of your personality and to love your owner who defines you, and from your essence and for what you exist ever flows sublime meaning given freely to you: to love and be loved.
>Anon will be home soon. You can't wait to please him.

>You lie cradled in bed against Anon whom you love. Ever since your earliest memories of him teaching you to read, he has read to you every night.
>After he reads to you another tale from the Brothers Grimm, you snuggle against him, and he hugs you.
"Anon?" you ask. Anon never talks about his previous Twilight.
"What did your last Twilight think of being your Hassenfeld pony?"
>His expression shattered.
>"Oh Twilight, please forgive me," he says, and wraps his arms around your curled up body and hugs you tenderly. The way he said it, you suspect his supplication was addressed to the previous Twilight with you as a proxy. Did Anon do something terrible to his former Twilight and he's seeking redemption through you?
>"I...," he continues, "I don't know how she felt. I... please forgive me, Twilight — I used her and hurt her on purpose, all her life, and never knew her. Sickening Anon! How could I do that? Twenty-five years of treating her like a slave to hurt and fuck and fuck while hurting — that was her life! How could," he sobbed, "— how could her last words have been that she's had a beautiful life? Oh Twilight, please forgive me." He buried his lachrymose face in your fur and held you tight as if against the fate that took her.
>But you are not she. How do you respond? Surely Anon could not have been that bad, but it is not your place to question it.
>However, there is no reason for one's final words to be anything but the uncompromised truth.
"Anon," you say, and lay the side of your head against his. "She said she had a beautiful life."
>You didn't know how, but you could guess.
>Anon hugged you until you fell asleep in his arms, your head resting against him reciprocating his love.
>Tomorrow was another day in your beautiful life.