Your Grand Royal Highness, Princess of the Sun,
I have written this and crumbled it up, then written it again and torn it to ribbons, then taped it back together in remorse before I threw it away in disgust several times. Finally, I sat down and wrote once more. Then I cast that one away as well, for it was not worthy of your eyes, and forced myself to bare my soul. I hope you will not mind that I sent this letter by unconventional means, please do not mind, but the dear postmare was the only way my conscience would allow. I could not ask Spike to send a message to you from me that he could not read, for such a thing would pierce his little heart with suspicion. Rightfully so, for this letter does concern him. The scandal of it all!
To explain myself, for you no doubt rightly wonder why I would impose upon your valuable time, I seek knowledge that only you possess. I have learned something that has forced me to ask questions with rather obscure answers. I have learned that the fear of admitting my true feelings is not as horrible a sensation as the fear of losing someone special who I have not settled accounts with. Until recently, I was so caught up in the details of living that I never stopped to look at the way my life is unfolding. The six of us have gallivanted about Equestria on missions of one sort or another for some time, ranging from the mundane search for a missing friend to a mind-warping encounter with the Prince of Chaos. I saw these as separate events, stitched together by bouts of normality that lulled me into a sense of calm. This was Equestria, after all. Such things were out of the norm, but this land's founders battled Windigos. As perilous as our adventures were, a little light of hope always flickered inside me. Even when we were surrounded by Changlings, or when we first were bound with one cord of friendship against Nightmare Moon, some magic of the land whispered to me that ponies had always overcome. Then we were sent to aid a faraway Empire and told that if we failed all Equestria would be endangered. Please do not misunderstand me, I fully appreciate the importance and urgency of that quest. I volunteered, as did all of us except for Twilight and Spike. He followed her because it was his duty, she led us because it was your will, and together we thwarted an ancient and enigmatic evil. I would gladly go to the Crystal Ponies' aid again if I was given the chance to turn back time. It was the right thing to do, to stand against evil in defense of freedom. That does not change what I have learned.
There came a moment when all hope seemed lost. The sky was burnt orange, all defenses were shattered, and the city was in chaos. Princess Cadance had done her best, all of us had, but the enemy had still overcome our little bubble. Then I heard Spike. Then I saw him falling to his death, and this time even Rainbow Dash could not reach him quickly enough. The ground rose up to claim him, snorting smog and drooling to reclaim a lost dominion. It was the most terrifying moment I have ever experienced. I knew in the depths of my mind that we were all doomed, that we had failed and there would be no quarter for meddling mares. That was not the greatest horror, for in that moment I realized that I cared rather little about what happened to my own self. I saw that purple dragon falling, just like we had fallen together from a great height after his rampage, and I realized whatever fate would befall me, he would not be there. Ever since he came to Ponyville, I had thought of him as a dragon, an ageless creature. He would always be there, solid as a rock, as constant as your sun. I was the one who had faced Nightmare Moon, I was the one defiled by Discord, I was the one plummeting to my doom after my folly burned up my borrowed wings. When he transformed back to his regular size after rampaging through the town, we fell together to a shared fate. Even when he faced that gang of ruffian dragons, I was close at hoof. Somehow, I had let my mind turn the detail of his lifespan into a guarantee that he would outlive me, or else we would go together. Until that moment, I never realized how fragile life is, even when wrapped in thick scales. I could not watch. I had to cover my eyes, and so I missed the extraordinary act of heroism that saved both the little dragon and the city. Even that does not change what I have learned. It was the most terrifying moment of my life not because I was in jeopardy, but because I was forced to realize that I had let the myth of immortality and the fear of stigma divert me from seeking out answers. Answers that would force me to change, to move out of my comfortable little bubble, and that would burden me with knowledge.
I know Spike means much to you, just how much I dare not speculate, and that has made this letter far harder to write. I must explain myself fully before I can ask my questions, since I must justify my intentions as pure. Otherwise I might give the Princess of the Sun the impression that I am a lecherous old hag. That fear was the death of several drafts. I cannot, I will not let fear keep me silent, and so I must beg that you view this letter with the kindest of indulgences as I fumble to express my heart. The lesson of life's value is still too vivid in my mind for me to continue quietly stitching inside a bubble of willful ignorance. You know that he has an affection for me. If he has not spoken of it to you with words, I know you are perceptive enough to infer something from the way he escorted me about during the celebration of Discord's defeat and our time at Princess Cadance's wedding. I also am perceptive enough to infer from the way he speaks of you that he is both respectful and familiar. Most ponies look to you with reverence bordering on fear, not because we are terrified of sudden wrath but because we feel unworthy when reminded of all you have done for this land over the centuries. Even Twilight views you as a stern mare, forged in battle and imbued with great wisdom, so she works even harder to prove herself worthy of your interest in her. Spike reveres you, but never seems to doubt his own worth. While Twilight panicked herself to a frazzle, he kept trying to reassure her that you would not banish a mare for one letter. I hope that this is not an overstep, but the image of him snuggled under your wing, completely at peace, springs all too easily to my mind whenever he speaks of you. Likewise, you never forget him. There was a place of honor for him in the Hearth's Warming Eve Pageant. He fit in perfectly at the Royal Wedding with manners and poise that he must have learned while Twilight strained her eyes on books, although he was adorably ignorant of what consisted of a bachelor's party. Even in something as small as the Grand Galloping Gala, you included him. I realize that he means much to you, and I hope this letter affirms that he means much to me also. That is why I have written to ask you what you know of dragons, and I have not done so lightly. Twilight's knowledge of them is limited because there are few written records. The books that she could find are filled with disjointed legends and laughable depictions. What facts I have worry my heart to no end. I do not doubt your judgement of his character, please do not misunderstand my intent. None of us have anything to fear from Spike, nor do I wish to imply that you would place him or anypony else in permanent residence here if it would one day destroy this little town from within. He is a kind soul, and Ponyville is his home. The mystery surrounding his race interests me for a different reason, one much closer to my heart than civil defense.
Until we faced Sombra, the most horrible moment of my life came on a sunny day when I was ripped out of my boutique by a giant scaly claw. It was not the peril of hanging hundreds of meters off the ground that marks that memory, but a realization similar to the one I would have in the Crystal Empire which compounded the horror. Although I was uncomprehending for that terrible day, when the night came and I lay in bed staring at the sheet I had taped over my ravaged window, I cried. I cannot fully express how terrifying it was to realize that the cute little dragon I know could have crushed me with a clench of his tail. I realized what he was capable of, for he was not a pony. He was a monster, as massive as a mountain and as greedy as a horde of shoppers at a red-tag clearance. That day changed my perception of him. Before, I knew he was a kind soul, an adorable assistant, and an ever-faithful friend. Somewhere inside that little body was a ravenous beast who tried to devour the Spike I knew. The boy slew the brute that day, and I cheered him for the hero he was. Yet I of all ponies know that such beasts rise again and again. I know what greed feels like, because it so often hurts to give. Envy and pride, those green-eyed monsters, make their lairs in my heart as well. To my eternal shame, you witnessed how that almost cost me my life when I flew too close to your sun on wings of gossamer and morning dew. I should have been hovering in the stands, not flying among the competitors. I focused on one detail, my own borrowed beauty, and forgot the reason I was even in Cloudsdale. That mistake almost ended me and several other fliers. When Spike became a monster, he would have destroyed his hometown in the name of greed. I understand his struggle, because I fight far less visible ones every day. I want to help him. I want to be a reason for him to flee from such desires, but I do not know if I am strong enough, or if it is even possible for him to hold back his species' traits forever. That is the reason I am so interested in dragons, because just like historical fashions, historical behaviors tell us what to expect in modern days. All ponies seem to know of dragons is that they are monsters. They are beautiful, nestled atop a prince's ransom of gold and jewels with spines and scales that shimmer when shined. They are also terrifying! Dragons eat gems, vegetables, almost anything. Including meat. This is my fear, that Spike will grow into a monster not by his own will, but simply because he was born with scales and claws. I do not believe he would ever choose to become a hoarding beast, but I am quite convinced he did not choose to rip me out of my boutique either. There is something evil in his heart that wants to take control of him if he will only give it a hoofhold.
That is the mystery of his race. Is his future his own to decide, or was a sad ending written for him ages ago? Spike is a dear friend, but I know so little about him. He is an orphan, or at least he has no real idea of his true parents, yet he is one of the happiest young males I have met. His own kind are almost alien to him, but he is comfortable living with ponies, who share neither his claws or scales. If Twilight and I earned our cutie marks on the same day, then he was hatched only a few years after me, but he still seems to be a child in body if not in mind. These are paradoxes I have swept under the rug since the day he arrived in Ponyville. Most other residents have done the same, though that is not an excuse, merely a bit of context. This is a very relaxed community. When he and Twilight arrived with royal orders and wide smiles he was treated as an adorable oddity. Nopony poked or prodded him, for most did not know what to make of a baby dragon. Fluttershy's stamp of approval went a very long way towards setting everypony at ease, since if she found him adorable and harmless there were few who could prove otherwise. Most ponies do not know that she tames Manticores and has tea with bears. The Apple Family found his appetite to be quite "fittin'", and their social status as the earliest settlers of the town counts for much. Rainbow Dash and he were friends almost at once, unified by laughter, and Pinkie... well, I was quite surprised that Pinkie waited as long as she did to throw them a party. I cannot recall her ever hesitating more than a few moments for any other newcomer. It was almost as though she recognized something special about Twilight, and determined to throw the grandest party she could assemble to dye them into the fabric of Ponyville society as irreversibly as possible. Then again, perhaps she had merely eaten one too many cupcakes that morning. Spike fit right into our patchwork town, so I was content to simply sit and stitch without looking too closely at the roll of cloth. Not once have I treated Spike cruelly, but I have brushed off his affection as simply a crush. I always thought that there would be time, later, to consider just why a dragon might find a mare attractive at all. While it is not unknown for zebras or even gryphons, I could not find a single learned source who would say with certainty why a dragon might find a mare to be a fit partner. If there is no pattern to cut cloth by, then there can be no dress made from that cloth. He is a handsome little fellow, and always a gentlecolt to me. That is precisely the problem. He is a dragon, one of an ancient and mythical race, not a young colt or even a preening gryphon. I do not think that he finds ponies attractive merely because he was raised with them. I know what lusty eyes and charmed hearts look like, for I have been the cause of many. He does not care for me in that superficial sense, but gazes with a blissful adoration I have rarely seen elsewhere. I do not know if it is simply the idealism of youth, but it is refreshing to feel that I am cared for because of who I am, not merely my beauty. That endears him to me, but it also worries my conscience.
If he was hatched the day I earned my cutie mark then we are only a few years apart, but he is so cute as Twilight's little brother that I have to force myself to remember he is closer to my age than my sister's. At times he acts like a child, but I have seen him stand against three older dragons simply because protecting an egg is the right thing to do. He seems to swing between being the only voice of reason and diving head first into folly. I could not understand why until I realized that I too act much like a petty, greedy child sometimes. I often forget all about that day in the Crystal Empire, yet at other times the image of him falling refuses to leave my mind. He and I have much in common, that is the only reason I believe I have any right to write these things to you. To fully confess myself, I care about him. I am afraid of losing him, of seeing him cold and gone instead of warm and alive. I would regret most of all never truly understanding that little dragon, while he spent so much time seeking to understand me. He has only deepened his affection since we first met, rather than broadening it like an unwanted suitor who truly cares only for himself. He is not a star-struck sap who believes that romance is bliss. Spike has an adorable way of finding the good in me and bringing it out. He looks for ways to be kind, but he does not trouble me with grand gestures that would embarrass us both. I do not know for certain what feelings I have in return for him, but even as just a close friend, I care for him and want to know more about his kind. I have searched high and low, low and high, but I cannot find more than a few scraps of lore about the Ancient Race. I should like to think that I know more about dragons than most ponies in Equestria. The scholars I have called upon talked of theories and postulated possibilities based on ancient bones or old expeditions. None of them spoke with authority, and few had seen a real Dragon without a telescope. I have. All but Spike were awe-inspiring but terrifying. Our forest-dwelling mystic knows a little about Dragons, but after consulting her I only left with more questions. There are many paintings of great scaly beasts, and more legends than gossip articles in the latest issue of Cosmare, but all of them conflict.
I admire the majesty of Dragons, their obvious power, and even the wings of those that happen to be so endowed. I envy their hordes, for I have much the same lust for gold and gemstones as they. I craft those beauties onto amazing garments, then sell my creations to the world. Spike eats them. I have seen the light of pure joy in his eyes when he finds even the smallest gem, and he has fumbled to explain to me just how something beautiful can have rich flavor. This leads to another troubling point, his size. Dragons often are massive creatures, requiring massive meals and long periods of slumber. Even dear little Spike grew as big as a mountain, and that was after stuffing a few odds and ends into the watertower. I tremble at the thought of what he would become if he ever began hording things of value! Dragon teenagers are loud and chaotic, and their old are slothful emotional wrecks that barely notice the settlements of other creatures. In the old tales, some are described as Heroes of the Kingdom. Others as powerful foes, whose greed drove them to destructive rampages against anything and everything. They had some grand civilization long ago, and many of their ancient artifacts still remain, but only a few broken codes are left for their descendents to follow. What is the fate of a dragon in this future world they surely never imagined? Is Spike doomed by his genes to become a monster one day, condemned to a bit part in a tragedy penned strange aeons ago? When Spike came to us, nopony could see him as anything but a cute little sidekick for our new librarian. As I mentioned, even dear Fluttershy was more interested than afraid. I can find few other references to dragons that lived close to other ponies, and none where they actually resided in a settlement. Certainly it was odd to see a baby dragon toddling about, but his eyes were bright, his smile was kind, and his manners were admirable. There is nothing, absolutely nothing in all of the little history I could find, that accounts for him. It is my hope that he is not bound by the fates of other dragons, but free to choose his own future.
Which brings me to the hardest part of this entire letter. I have asked every other source that I could find, out of respect and no small amount of trepidation, but finally I had to write to the ultimate authority on this matter. There is no more ultimate authority than the Princess who led into battle great dragons, then centuries later cared for one until he was old enough to aid the filly who hatched him. That is why I write this letter so candidly. Either I will be banished, or I will be chided, or I will find peace in your answers. I cannot even throw myself completely to the wind with a declaration of love, I truly do not know what I feel for him. Whatever my heart decides, I will always be his friend. That is why I ask you what you know of dragons, so that I will know if he will last forever or if I must savor these few moments before the Spike I know is gone with the wind. I must know if the little dragon will grow into a sober knight or a sleepwalking monster. If it is the latter, I will weep. If the former, I must make sure of my feelings. I looked for love in the highest reaches of Canterlot, and I found only pain. The romantic in me cries out for action, but that memory of helplessness, dangling hundreds of meters in the air from the side of a mountain, still terrifies me. I care for Spike, not that monster. If I can help him turn from that road, if I can anchor him as he tells me I did on that day, then regardless of romance I will. There is an ache in my heart that comes when I pause long enough to think of that day in the Crystal Empire. If I can aid him, then that ache will be soothed, and that will be reward enough. He is dear to me, and after all we have shared I cannot let ignorance be an excuse for letting him slip away. If the stars align, perhaps there is something more for he and I, but I cannot begin to measure for a gown until after I have stitched this dress.
I wanted to make a clean admission of my intentions to you along with my petition for wisdom. I have, I hope, succeeded in that regard. My heart will give me no peace until I have sent this, and I could not survive having to rewrite it again, so I hope my inelegant fumblings do not offend. If I have been too candid, it is because I wish to be condemned for what I have penned, rather than sneaking behind your back and being banished for what I did not dare to write.
Your Humble Servant,
Rarity