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// A Resonance 
// Story: Love Is Its Own Reward 
// by BubblepipeWrangler 
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	Knight-Commander Fancypants,

Music. Music was the key, you were so right. The look in his eyes was enough to stop my heart, it was as though he was seeing some perfect moment in time that we lesser creatures could never hope to comprehend. I had given him something that nopony could ever take away, something that will live on long after I am gone. Then I pulled him close, kissed his cheek, and he hugged me tight while the music rolled through us. I know all was not well in the world at that moment, you were probably snatching a screaming orphan from the jaws of Sobek or something equally horrific, but it felt so perfect. Of course, I am still deaf in one ear, but Twilight assures me that will pass and it is a small price to pay for the joy I saw on his face.

I am sorry, I should have begun by thanking you. Without you, I would never have mustered the courage to find that moment, or if I had I would have first wasted so much time figuring out if there was any hope for a relationship between a mare and a dragon. Instead I laid my plans, stockpiled my resources, and waited for the proper time to attack. I cultivated a routine of mining gems with him, and it was only natural for us to chat to pass the time. After I had gathered my information, an accidental "Wub-nificent" wakeup call one morning provided the spark of inspiration. I knew what would touch his heart, all that remained was to find a proper guise for my true motives. I needed something innocent that would evade suspicion.

Vanhoover was my sketchpad. A city known for its diverse climate, broad selection of shopping venues, and thrilling nightlife. I labored for hours, piecing together the perfect shopping expedition. It was a facade, but it still had to be perfect. The element of surprise is invaluable both on the battlefield and on the runway. Once I was certain that my plans were well stitched, I walked to the Golden Oaks library to see Twilight. She was in Canterlot on Royal Business. I came back the following Tuesday, and we had a wonderful chat.

Twilight Sparkle has lived a very sheltered life. I knew this, I had prepared for it, but nothing could prepare me for what I learned that day. The dear has a stipend that could clothe a cinema star, but she had never been to a real galleria. I wept for her, and assured her that I could not let such a crime against fabulosity go uncorrected. Her eyes grew very wide, and I had to hurry to reassure her that my plan did not involve cutting off my tail. Not this time. No, I would need my tail, for I would have to be her guide to the wonderful world of power shopping! After a bit more explaining, I was able to convince her that power shopping did not involve multiple simultaneous differential spellcasting, or portable tesla generators, or even a forty-two volume encyclopedia set and a node graph. However, she was sold on the idea once I mentioned the words "efficiency" and "time-management". As I explained that power shopping was the art of finding and purchasing the best deals in the shortest time possible, her eyes began to glow with an eerie light, and a very disconcerting grin began to stretch across her face. For a moment, Sir Fancypants, I was afraid that I had awakened a monster and filled her with a terrible purpose.

Fortunately, my knight came to my rescue. He trundled into the room with a stack of books, turned to smile at me, and plowed headlong into Twilight like an steamboat into a sea monster. I helped them up, of course. Thankfully that little jolt was enough to knock her out of whatever mad vision had caused her ears to twitch and her eyes to gleam. The librarian was most excited by the idea, and assured me that we would have to do it soon. My trap had been sprung.

Spike was of course confused, doubly so when Twilight volunteered him to carry our bags. That got his attention, and he began to object over her explanation. He wanted no part of a girly shopping trip. Dragons did not "power-shop", they pillaged! He glared straight into her eyes, and flexed his arms to underscore his point. The librarian was about to try and coax him into it when a sudden thought struck her. I cannot describe the look on her face, but she let out an adorable yelp and blushed. With a sheepish expression, she asked if I had really been inviting only her. Spike began shelving books and grumbling to himself about something or other, and I resisted the urge to steeple my front hooves in triumph. I was ready to seize the moment, for everything had come together just as planned. First I reassured Twilight that, Spike could certainly come if he wanted to. He steadfastly reasserted that he did not, especially if it would involve a lot of heavy lifting. I had expected as much. An afternoon's gem collecting is one thing, but travelling all the way to Vanhoover just to lug Twilight and I's purchases about was not something he would eagerly volunteer for. He has a cute crush, not a mental disorder.

I gave a ladylike sigh of dejection, and told Twilight that it was just as well. We would be dreadfully busy rushing from store to store, and I was not sure dear little Spikey-wikey was strong enough to keep pace with two mares on a mission. He was a baby dragon, after all. That needled him in the pride, and he began protesting about how mature he was, and how much he had grown since they had come to Ponyville. I think he almost hurt himself lifting a pile of weighty tomes to show off his strength. Twilight agreed that perhaps it would be best to have just us two girls go on the shopping trip. I had a wonderful weekend planned for us in Vanhoover, and she was confident that Spike could look after the library and her owl. He was certainly mature enough for that in her opinion. According to her, the dragon was an excellent caretaker, even when there was a frantic librarian teleporting about in search of a misfiled report.

Then came the moment. I was prepared. Twilight and I chatted about shopping and cuisine for another moment or two, then I mentioned that it was really for the best. I only had two tickets to DJ P0N3's Resonance Cascade Redux show at the White Mesa Citadel. Those tickets were the crux of my plan. They were not cheap to acquire, even from the mare herself when she stopped by my boutique for some fashion advice. Acquaintances though we might be, we are both businessmares. Spike was suddenly standing next to the librarian and I, with a very interested look on his face. Twilight was confused again. I knew that she was moderately interested in DJ P0N3's work, but her assistant was simply addicted. He rather excitedly exclaimed that the mare was a musical genius, and I really must agree.

I thought I would have to do some quick talking, but Twilight caught on surprisingly fast. With what I suppose the poor dear thought was a subtle wink at me, she suggested that if Spike was willing to come along and take care of our bags, he could have her ticket to the show. She would need time to recover from all the shopping, and to compile the receipts into a formal report for her expenditure logbook. The mention of hard labor soured the dragon on the idea a little, so I mentioned that they were VIP all-access passes, and even came with the "Black Hole Implosion" glow-in-the-dark lanyards. He was sold. I trotted out of there with a spring in my step and a song in my heart.

Without your help, Sir Fancypants, I would have never worked up the courage. I would not have known if he was truly an infant, or a young immortal. Spike is already a fine, strapping young male, and I dare say he casts a taller shadow than when we first met. Because of what you explained, I know that his mind will guide his body's development. I know that the few years between us are less troublesome than our duties. Most importantly of all, I know that it is better to treasure the time I have with him than to worry about what the future might hold. Thank you, Sir Fancypants. I hope that your new suit fits well.

I met DJ P0N3 rather on accident, many years ago. All I knew when I knocked on her door was that somepony had moved into that supposedly "haunted" house, and seemed intent upon carrying out a sonic exorcism. My new neighbor slept during the day and shook the ground during the night. After a week of pulsing lights, rumbling wubs, and curious explosions, I could stand it no longer. A mare has to get her beauty sleep! So, I put on my best set of earmuffs, donned a soft blue scarf against the morning chill, and steeled my nerves. That was the day I met Vinyl Scratch, and my initial impression upon finding her front door ajar and the mare herself guzzling a concoction of energy drinks, alcohol, and thin red paste while dancing over the creaking wood floor proved perfectly accurate. She's a madmare.

Oh, but what a madmare to see upon the stage, her ivory coat illuminated by spotlights of every color as the fog poured over us all! I do not know if you have experienced one of her performances, but they are without equal. I have read in the papers how so many musicians throw every scrap of decency away just to cause a stir, but for her the show builds upon the music. She plays the crowd like another of her machines, and it is not lewd acts that pin her in our minds but her skill. I do not know how she performs the technomagical tricks that she does, it is as though she were not bound by the same laws of physics as the rest of us. She mixes new songs from old, right on the stage in the heat of the moment, and controls everything from the lights to the pyrotechnics with a pulse of her horn. I like to think of myself as an able showmare, but I could not in a thousand years hope to achieve her level of skill, not even with the deepest meditation, yet that madmare does it all with a grin and a cackle! A night like that was what I wanted to share with him.

Spike certainly held up his end of the bargain. From the moment he hauled our luggage off the train in Vanhoover till our homebound return to the station, he was the dutiful page. Twilight had a fabulous time, and I finally managed to get her a set of saddlebags that do not scream bookworm as much as they whisper intellectual. We tried a bit of skiing for a breather, and the young dragon had to melt his guardian and I out of a snowdrift. Then it was deep into the heart of the thrift stores, for while I pride myself on keeping abreast of the latest trends I have never been so proud as to turn up my nose at a worthy cast-off. Some of those clothes looked as though they had been barely worn, and others could be mended for far less than what they would cost new. After that, we took advantage of Vanhoover's diverse climate to spend some time at the beach. Spike consented after some prodding to helping Twilight set up some monitoring equipment for... oh, something or another about crabs. All I remember is the look on his face when he hauled himself back up onto the pier and had to pry a few pinchers off his green spines. We three had a grand time, but I hoped that the best was yet to come.

When we first arrived at the Citadel, I was terrified for a moment that Spike might be denied entry. Even I had to show proof of age, something no mare likes to do. However, the bouncer was only under orders to keep out underage ponies or gryphons, and after a moment of smooth words from that serpentine tongue, he had to admit that there really were no rules regarding dragons. Regardless, it turned out that Spike was actually older than the limit, to my mild surprise. I knew Twilight was a prodigy, but I had not thought the two of them were that close in age. The two of us caused something of a stir at first, but... well, the delicate way to phrase it would be that a young dragon escorting a mare was not the most exotic sight in the nightclub. As I said, he casts a taller shadow now, and nopony was willing to bother a boy whose scales could turn a knife. I had thrown some simple outfits together from our purchases, and I dare say that we looked more at home than many of the others who had obviously come only because DJ P0N3 was performing.

Spike had never been to such an establishment before, and so I had the odd privilege of watching his genetic instincts clash with his civilized knowledge. As an example, when we first walked up to the bar he asked the stallion behind the counter for an "Andesite Lava, extra iron." No sooner had the words left his mouth than an expression of surprise to match the bartender's own blossomed over his face. It was as though the words had been chiseled into him since birth, merely waiting to be read when the right moment came. I knew that he had an uncanny knowledge of gems, but I thought that came from years of living with Twilight. I am almost certain that he did not learn that order from those ruffian dragons on his little quest of self-discovery. The way he spoke was not like a drunkard buying another glass of courage, it was as a knight ordering a fine brew.

On the note of fine things, perhaps I should explain just what the White Mesa Citadel is not, a hovel filled with degenerates and agitators. It is a fabulous nightclub, highly lauded in such circles, and staffed by respectable ponies. I would not take Spike to a den of addicts and brawlers, just as I would not set hoof in such an establishment myself. The Citadel pulses with all the energy and passion of youth, but it is not a wretched hive of scum and villainy. Perhaps it is simply the uncultured small town girl in me, or perhaps Pinkie Pie's parties have let me build up a tolerance, but I must confess that I do enjoy a rave now and again. I would not dare to imply that a stallion of your stature would feel at home at the Citadel, but it is more than a club where ponies go to dance their troubles away. As DJ P0N3 put it that night, it is a sanctuary. Within those walls, it feels as though you are safe from all the fears that lurk outside. Or perhaps it was the strong presence at my side that night who kept those worries at bay.

My knight had managed to order a drink just before we first saw that madmare. She had arrived almost without ceremony. Many performers of her renown have bodyguards, but the only other pony with her was a grey mare I could have sworn I had seen before somewhere. I waved at the pale unicorn as she passed by, and she tilted her glasses down to wink at me. A few minutes later, the club was buzzing with the "news" that DJ P0N3 was up to something. While others speculated, Spike and I shared a wonderful midnight snack. DJ P0N3 was always "up to something", for she takes her performances just as seriously as I do my dressmaking. The food was excellent, as I said the Citadel strives to be more than just a dancefloor, and just as we finished I saw that grey mare walk out onto the main stage. She carried on her back a curious contraption that I recognized after a moment as an electronic cello. When one of the roadies plugged it in, several runes flashed up its sides. After the cellist came three more earth ponies, with their own black-shirted tech crews and electrified instruments. They were a keyboardist, a cyan mare wrapped with wires and festooned with pulsing gizmos that collectively resembled a sousaphone from a mad scientist's laboratory, and a purple stallion who carried a curious instrument I later learned was called the "harp-guitar".

There was an odd mood about the club, something rather like curiosity with a few gemstones of discontent sewn on. The quartet ran through their sound check quickly. I could tell they were nervous about the little crowd that had begun to gather in front of the stage. The grey mare glanced backstage, then back to her partners, and they started into a wonderful piece of smooth jazz. I thought it was a perfect match for the club's refined atmosphere, after all the night was young and they were just the opening act. It took me a moment before I realized that these ponies were some of the most talented performers in Equestria, their performances usually commanded sold out amphitheaters and high-society gatherings. I wondered just why they were here of all places. This was not a concert hall, and to prove it the dissenting noise began to spread like wine on a white gown. Still, this was a club of connoisseurs, and there was an equaling buzz of enthusiasm. I found it rather exciting to watch, as did Spike, for we could see the musicians truly putting their hearts into the piece. This was a challenge for them, a crowd that had to be won rather than simply played for, and they were doing a phenomenal job. On the whole, everything seemed to be rolling along fine... until a gem tore loose.

To be more precise, a crumpled can zipped through the air and smacked into the cellist's head. This was a nightclub after all. The grey mare looked more stunned than hurt, but the entire quartet froze. Their jazz came apart like a dress in the hooves of frenzied shoppers, and the audience gasped. In the corner of my eye I saw Spike's claws clench shut. Some of the dissenters whooped in thuggish approval, but just as I blinked a pale blur tore out from backstage. When my eyes opened, the crowd had parted, and DJ P0N3 was sitting on top of some ruffian who had just received a black eye by air-mail. She growled loud enough for everypony to hear that the musicians were friends of hers, and she had asked as a personal favor for them to bring some culture to this place. If somepony had a problem with that, they could leave, or she would be happy to explain how "fighting's just as magical as friendship."

Well, by this point I already doubted Spike or I would ever forget that night, but I'm sure you will agree it would be for entirely the wrong reason. Fortunately the cellist seemed quite fine. After a viselike hug from the DJ and a bit of fussing-over from the rest of her bandmates, she combed a stray lock of her mane back into place and the quartet launched into a new piece of music. I also noticed a few more of the black-shirted staff lurking in the shadows, but they were the best kind of stage help. They knew their whole job was to make somepony else look good, keep somepony else safe, help somepony else do what they were put here to do. Their presence alone was enough to dissuade any further troublemakers, especially since one roadie carried a brutal-looking axe. The tension of the moment had popped, but the four musicians still had to prove their worth to a skeptical audience.

I felt a pang of sympathy for them, and when they shifted into a grand little ditty that could really get a lady's hooves moving, I will confess that I heard your voice. Carpe Diem. I stood from my stool, turned to the dragon, and held out a hoof. He blinked, and I can still see how his eyes widened and his knees started to shake. After an instant, he swallowed hard and pointed at himself in the most adorably awkward way. Several other couples had started the Lindy Hop, and I already regretted squandering one chance at a night with my dragon. It was time to give him a memory he could cherish.

The band swung the beat, and I eased him into it. Once he relaxed, he really was a natural, all those years of dance lessons melded with his natural instincts to make a fine partner. I could still feel his fear when we touched, he was terribly afraid that he would embarrass me in front of all these ponies. It took another couple mistiming a dip and hitting the floor with a sound rather like dropping a sewing machine for him to realize that there was nopony around who would care. Madmare that she was, DJ P0N3 had been working the lights and tweaking the instruments from backstage, until before I realized it she had pulled almost the entire club onto the dancefloor. The songs were all old hits, performed live by the quartet. It was so wondrously retro, and I doubt anypony else could have pulled it off. By then I had danced with my knight long enough to truly regret my choice at the Gala. Just before she was scheduled to start her own show, DJ P0N3 bounced back out onto the stage again and announced that the orchestra would be helping her with a very special starter. Words fail me. I... Sir Fancypants, I have the photographs to prove it. She had everypony shaking a leg to Thriller. What's more, the pale mare was right in the crowd. She had on a candy-apple-red jacket, those purple shades, and her horn waved like a glowstick as she controlled the music while deftly spinning and sliding through her chanting fans.

All of her chanting fans. Including Spike. While he and I moved together, the world seemed to flow around the two of us, a sea of pegasi, unicorns, gryphons, zebras, earth ponies, and who knows what else. We stepped and swayed, and my smile was as wide as anypony else's, until she stole him away. One moment he was at my side, and the next she had him lined up next to her. The two of them danced like they were walking on air. I kept pace with the others, but she and he seemed to move as equal leaders of the crowd. I knew it was nothing personal, and he had such a ecstatic expression on his face that I could only feel happy for him, but I was reminded of my own weakness. As I watched them, I remembered how little I really have to offer him, and I felt so very small when she reached out to tap the VIP pass around his neck before sliding back into the crowd in search of another victim. Worst of all, I knew that this was exactly why I had brought him here, to make his dreams come true. But, I had underestimated my knight once again.

When he spun back to my side, he reached out and caught me in a hug. It was a quick clutch timed with the music, a catch and release if you will. I saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes that he had been too forward. He was frightened for an instant that I might disavow him for being as uncouth as a certain other escort of mine at the Gala. I was overwhelmed by the moment, and tried to say something to him. Naturally, my ladylike voice was crushed beneath the weight of the noise surrounding us. Then DJ P0N3 lept back onto the stage, slid behind her turntables, and with the scratch of a needle started her true performance. I smiled at the dragon as the crowd roared around us, and after a few seconds he smiled back. No, I was not the enigmatic mare on the stage, but I was the one he wanted to be with.

The quartet bowed and took their leave, then the world around us disintegrated as the madmare took absolute control. As for my dragon and I, our eyes met, and... well, I know my heart melted. Our time together that night was magnificent. It truly began at the start of the show, when I pulled him close, kissed his cheek, and he held me tight for a moment before we let go to dance. There, away from all the culture, all the society, all the trends and the worries and the... the... oh, everything that makes me think that it could never work. I suppose it was rather like tubing. We danced together under the lights, through the fog of dry-ice, and among the lattices of lasers. It was not a civilized dance, not a cultured series of actions as might be proper for a mare of high society, but it was not a carnal thing either. We moved in harmony with one another, two souls on one canvas.

I know in my mind that DJ P0N3 did not build that night's mix just for one mare and a dragon. I know this, and yet it seemed to build so perfectly to another more perfect moment that I would swear she was performing just for us. However, we were far from the only fans of hers there on that night. I suspect that if I were to try and describe all the little glimpses I caught while Spike and I were on the dancefloor I would run out of quills and ink. There were a pair of gryphons, judging by their clothes newlyweds still struggling to make their way in the world. I saw two pegasi who must have been brothers, or at the very least shopped for clothes at the same bulk discount store, swaying to the music and throwing sly glances at nearby girls. That sousaphone player and the stallion with the harp on his flank even joined the crowd for a little while. DJ P0N3 was performing for all of them, for all of us, and her skill well deserves the love of her fans. Even so, at the height of the show, the music pushed my dragon and I together so perfectly that I am certain she had an eye on the two of us. Oh, she denied everything when I asked backstage, but that toothy grin was all the answer I needed.

He knew that kiss on the cheek was not a commitment, I felt it in his embrace. He knew I was not asking him for anything more than this night. A lady does not string a knight along. Spike knew that when we stepped outside the Citadel, he and I would not be engaged. Life in Ponyville would not change. But this night, this moment, was ours. It was my gift to him, one he could keep for all time. Nothing can steal that night from his mind, for he is one of the Ancient Race. That was the best I could give, and I know he will treasure it. I for one will not forget the gentle touch of those savage claws around my neck, or the look in his eyes as I seized the moment in full at the height of the performance and we kissed.

After that, I... bothersome ink, I feel that there is little more to write. In the late hours of the morning DJ P0N3 finished the show with a bang. We and a small group of other Very Important Ponies were allowed backstage to chat with the musicians. Vinyl Scratch was slouched across a couch, chugging another wretched-smelling concoction that seemed to glow crimson whenever it touched her lips. The grey mare, who was indeed that amazing cellist I saw at your garden party, was standing just behind her, still wearing her immaculate pink bow-tie and sipping on a glass of water. The other musicians were supposedly asleep, and at the mention of that word I will admit that I felt my age catching up with me. Fortunately, Spike noticed and guided my weary body to one of the thoughtfully provided couches. They were clean, chic, and gloriously comfortable. I may have dozed for a moment against his shoulder, but his enthusiasm was infectious.

I soon found my second wind and was able to take part in the conversation. Vinyl was signing autographs, and her grey friend was blushing ever so slightly as she spoke with a colt who had developed a sudden respect for the classics. In particular, he was impressed with a mare who could take a hit to the head and carry on as though nothing had happened. I wonder what he would have thought if he had seen her survive Pinkie Pie at the Gala. The madmare joked that all earth ponies were made of iron but, "Octy's cold iron." The two girls shared an easy camaraderie, much like Applejack and myself, and I do wonder how two musicians with such differing tastes became friends. Somepony else asked that exact question, and Vinyl looked as though she were about to start into some thrilling tale. However, the grey mare quickly set a hoof on her friend's shoulder, gave a nondescript smile, and answered, "we met on a train." My dragon inquired why the quartet had come tonight, to which Vinyl shrugged, slugged back the last of her drink, and proclaimed, "because I felt like it, and DJ P0N3 gets what she wants!" This was punctuated by the madmare hurling her glass into a bin on the far side of the room, and calling for "Another!" before the sound of it shattering had faded.

My escort and I had a wonderful time. I knew he was a fan of DJ P0N3's music, but from what I understand he was always too bashful to approach her. Having me at his side seemed to give him courage, though I suppose after our dances together he would have felt up to pummelling Queen Chrysalis' entire army. For all his enthusiasm, he still kept a very level head. I poked him once or twice when he began to ramble, a bad habit he has contracted from Twilight and myself, but for the most part he was plying his tongue very wisely. At the very least, we made a better impression than the two pegasi who staggered backstage, said hello, and collapsed on a couch. After five minutes of trying to talk over their snoring, Vinyl motioned toward them with a hoof. The grey mare calmly stepped forward and easily lifted one end of their couch. Spike lept up and got the other side, then with the furniture balanced between his claws and her back they carried the two dreamers outside. That and many other things happened, but they are not what has unsettled me enough to mention our time backstage to you. They are merely context, so that you do not think I am suddenly putting on an evening gown while the sun is high in the sky.

Everything seemed innocent enough, until Vinyl referred to Spike by a rather curious name. She called him "Star Child". I asked her what she meant by that, and I know I saw her eyes shift behind those purple glasses. Her friend was still talking with that pegasus colt, but she leaned down and whispered something in the unicorn's ear before continuing her own conversation as though nothing had happened. Vinyl quickly reassured me that it was a compliment to Spike's dancing skill, from the old funk and groove music. She made it her business to know the history of music, that was part of the reason she wanted the quartet to perform tonight. By building on the classics, she did not have to reinvent the wheel. It seemed like an honest answer... which concerned me even more. Vinyl Scratch is a brilliant mare, but that reply was flat, factual, it pulled away too much of the mystique. I would have expected such an answer from her if she was telling me what clothes she wanted, and perhaps not even then. After all, even I did not know what she wanted that candy-apple-red jacket for until I saw her dancing among the crowd in it. For a question about why she had called someone by an odd name, her reply should have involved a tilted head, a shrug, and some witty quip along the lines of, "I'm crazy, that's how it goes!"

Before I could inquire any further, Vinyl mentioned that I was her chief fashion consultant, and I found myself subject to a rather curious recreation of that moment in your garden party when I suddenly became the pony everypony wanted to hire. I asked Spike later, in a nonchalant way, and he told me with honest eyes that he had never heard that name before. If it were anypony but Vinyl Scratch I would disregard it, especially since as a mere mortal I dare not ponder too deeply why that madmare might call the dragon Celestia raised as her own by such a name. I know you are a keeper of many secrets, Sir Fancypants, and I know there are perhaps some secrets best left alone. I know what I feel for him, and a title cannot change that. We had a wonderful night together, that is something nopony can take away. Still, it lurks in my mind like a forgotten gem at the bottom of a fabric chest, winking at me every time I open the lid.

Vinyl bid us all goodnight and left just before the dawn broke. Spike and I staggered out of the Citadel into a beautiful sunrise, which reminded me rather poignantly of the one I saw upon Celestia's return from wherever she was imprisoned by Nightmare Moon. Still, it hurt my eyes, so while he and I hurried back to the hotel in an attempt to beat the morning masses, I was grateful for having brought along two pairs of cheap sunglasses I had found at a thrift store.

We slept together on the train back to Ponyville. The two of us were exhausted once we got back from the nightclub, and had stayed far longer than intended. Fortunately, Twilight had already neatly packed our things and gotten a good night's rest. She sheparded us aboard the train and onto a bench, giving me the window seat, then settled down next to Spike with a book. According to her, the two of us were slumped together for the entire ride, even snoring peacefully in sync. I assured her she must have been mistaken, a lady does not snore, she merely breathes heavily while getting her beauty sleep. One thing I know for sure is that I felt very peaceful with him at my side, and when I awoke I was not at all upset to find that his tail and mine had somehow gotten tangled together.

I hope he knows now, for I could hardly say any clearer how I care for him. All that remains is to wait for the right moment, when both of us are ready, but until then I will take joy from the time we can spend together. I owe this knowledge, this peace, to you, Sir Fancypants. I owe it to you for coming and to Princess Celestia for sending you. I am writing you this letter in the hope that you will feel your time was not wasted, for I learned more from you than I could have ever hoped to on my own. I hope that this brief page from my life helps you sleep well at night, for you do so richly deserve that. This has been quite an ordeal, both in time and emotion, but I feel it has been worth every moment. I love him, and that love is reward enough for all the trials that will come my way. It is patient and kind, and it drives out fear with knowledge.

I hope also that this letter has found you well, Sir Fancypants, for I have heard worrying rumors about your health. This may be an overstep, but I do hope those reports are greatly exaggerated. If your ailment is not of the body but of the heart, please know that there is a mare who has seen a glimpse of what you see in your love's eyes. It is stronger than the fear, and it is stronger than the doubt. We mortals cannot cling to life forever, but this world would be a much darker place without you. You have helped something beautiful to flourish, and I do hope this knowledge soothes many old wounds.


Respectfully Yours,
Rarity