by Malus Scriptor

A Declaration

My Dearest,

There are few words that, to an untrained ear, can even begin to express my feelings for you, and I know them not, even though I may wrack my mind and scour lexicons to find them. So let me write the only three words powerful enough that I do know: I love you. And in time, I hope for you to feel the same. You do not know me at the moment, but I’ve seen you, watched you, admired you from afar. To you, you are simply another mare, who just so happens to be a princess. To me, you are my everything. I love you.

My writing should be clear to you, for I write it clearly. Though that may sound redundant, it is the truth. I write in clear mind and conscience. For you I write, and for you I live. Do you understand? My entire world revolves around those I love, and that means you, my dear. Shall I prove it? A draconequus is only as good as his actions, after all.

In the morning, I awake to see your face upon my bedside table, framed in deepest mahogany and smelling of roses. I smile and arise, then trot to the kitchen for breakfast. My pantry is stocked with all your favorites, my love. I take out what I need and prepare a daisy sandwich on rye. After eating, I go out to find you. It isn’t hard; you are always in the same place, more or less. Ponyville’s a small town, after all. You do not see me, for I do not wish to be seen. I am good at this, you see; this not being noticed. I am simply there with you.

As I pen this letter, you sit at your desk, nose buried in The Complete Codex of Clover the Clever: A History. Your lavender haze of magic draws the page upward and sweeps it carefully over to the next. You bite your lip and check the clock. The deadline approaches. You look worried, and I know you are, for I pay attention. You always bite your lip when you grow nervous. I also see a few hairs of your perfect mane stand to attention, growing frazzled. Again, this is normal. Stress does strange things to you, but I don’t mind. I can empathize even. Right now, my hoof itches from my longing to stroke your beautiful coat, run it along your flowing tail. My distance from you, though I am close but not close enough, causes me distress. I so very wish to be with you, my love.

My life has been long without you, darling. The world cold and distant, my desires fleeting. Ever dreaming, ever hoping for the day a light would shine through the darkness. One day, the sun rose, and a feeling, a niggling little feeling emerged that told me something, or someone, was coming to help, to pull me up and away. But nothing happened, not for near on a thousand years. And for all the ages, the sun bore down upon my back and shoulders, never allowing me rest or respite. And then one evening, the stars returned and lit up the darkness of the day. And there I saw you in the twilight, and you saw me in the stone. And that was only the beginning.

I’ve spoken at length with your dragon, you know. We’ve become the best of friends. Oh, he doesn’t know who I am, but as with you, I know him. He sleeps in a brown wicker basket beside your bed. He sucks his thumb as he sleeps. His favorite things in the world are rubies, your friend Rarity, and most of all, you, my love. And that is why I’ve gotten to know him. He is to you as you are to your former mentor. He loves and respects you like a son to a mother. Through him, I may learn more about you that I cannot know through simple observation.

When you were five, you had your first magical growth spurt, years ahead of your peers. You turned your kindergarten teacher’s mane green, and you were so embarrassed that you hid under your desk and tried to cover yourself with your tail. Your mother and father were so proud of you. But you avoided magic, as if you were afraid of it and its potential. Not until you watched Celestia raise the sun during the Summer Sun Celebration did you truly begin down the long path that was your magical potential.

At the age of eleven, you had your first crush. I don’t blame you, my dear, for it not being me. You knew me not at the time, and fillies at that age are foolish little things. You simply adored the colt’s emerald green eyes and shining white coat and mane as blue as the ocean. You considered the unsettling possibility that the colt reminded you of your brother, and that’s why you decided to not follow your heart, or so you believed. It was for the best, really. You didn’t know that the colt would have been perfect for you in every way, but I did. That’s why I had it taken care of, you see. How, you may ask. How could I possibly do such a thing from my place in the present, while these events replay only in memory, a place I cannot go. My dear, the answer is simple: I am. And that’s all that’s important.

My hand grows weary, but I push on, for I must convey the depth of my compassion for you. It is the deepest sea and the widest ocean. It is the infinite void of space, filled with all of existence while at the same time being mostly empty. It is a verdant green forest of strong oak trees and wild animals who all seek for meaning in life. As I have already said, and I will say it again, you are my everything. In my mind’s eye, every seemingly insignificant detail about you unfolds itself. To anyone else, these details probably would be insignificant, but to me, nothing about you can be ignored. Your feathered wings, exactly 2.27 meters across from tip to tip, fly among the clouds in everlasting splendor. Your horn, 27 centimeters long with a clockwise fluting, pierces the heavens to work magic with the gods themselves. Every detail, down to the last, is important to me, my dearest. Nothing is overlooked, for the more I know about you, the closer to you I grow.

You may be wondering more about me, my love. Well, then I shall tell you, but you must promise to understand. I am not like you, nor anyone you may know. Some would consider me a monster, a creature that has no right to life. It is true, I have done objectively bad things in my long life. Ponies have been hurt because of me. But I do not do these things out of malice or hate. It is just that what I am, an agent of chaos and disharmony, is something that cannot peacefully coexist with ponies. But I try, nonetheless.

I have done good things, too, though they cannot make up for all the bad. I have stopped wars and worse, saving the lives of thousands. For eons, I have guarded this world from things beyond, creatures with no right to be known as creatures, who seek the end. I am a protector, you see. And I would be willing to protect you for as long as you live, if only you give me the chance. You give me the power, the strength to carry on, and without you, I know not if I could survive.

I love you, my dearest Twilight.

Oh, how I long for you to be mine, for you to rest between my arms and press against my chest. It's not often that I don't get what I want in the end, my sweet. So one day, one very soon I should expect, you shall be mine and I yours. We shall be together forever. And forever is a long time; I've experienced it myself in your absence.

I am everywhere and nowhere at once, for with you I am everything and without you I am nothing. To live, I need you and you alone. To be without you, to be away from you, is agonizing torture. It tears me apart from the inside out for you to stray out of my sight. So I watch you, my dear. At all times, I watch you. I will always watch over and protect you. Even now, I am with you. And if I have my way, we shall never be apart.

My time to write has drawn to a close, but I’m not leaving you. Far from it. When you put down this letter, this declaration of my love for you, you will see me, for I shall allow it, my love.

All you need to do is look.