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// Waiting forever because that's all I have 
// Story: A short but eternal agony 
// by Jade Crossroads 
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A draconequus is not a beautiful thing. If we are marveled or admired by any being it is for our intellegence, strength though we seem weak, and our ability to weild forces of reality and bend it as we please so that it meets our needs. In my case, and as the last of our proud kind, I spread it through the land, keeping chaos alive. It did not exist before I became, but it will thrive long after I am gone, though with me shall pass milenias of remembrance. I aim to keep from being forgotten, I need to know I still exist, and so I make noise and told up signs to their muzzles, those who cross my path. I am all that is left, all that remains of the draconnequi. I suppose my legacy to those who are blissfully ignorant which is most of the pony race, is much like that of a phoenix In the human world. To them I am an anomoly, albeit an annoying one, but still, there is only ever one of my species as all others as well as any traces of their existence has since vanished. Leaving only me behind without even broken prices to try and fix.... To try and put everything back together.

As I was saying.... draconnequi are not creatures of beauty, our grotesque forms are meant to confuse and terrify our prey. Or at least they were, many, many years ago, but for whatever curious reason, my kin never evolved into forms better suiting or reflecting our growth as a civilized people. Not did it account to our intelligence, unfortunately. At least I can attest to the many voloumes in the Canterlot library that Celestia pilfered 2,000 years ago that we draconequui wrote (Ponies have always been jealous of our opposable thumbs, it's brought me some amusement to say the least) As if she had any right to them, but I don't care, I've never been one for reading. Why would I when there's nothing more they can possibly teach me? They have nothing to offer.

I Know what I am, but can I really help it that I have fallen for such a beautiful pegasus mare, who even now, when she had no reason to, trusts me while heartedly.

I only question her love for me, I am no handsome stallion, nor a creature one would invite into their dreams.

Indeed. I often haunt the minds of ponies, not always intentionally, but I tend to know when I manifest, in the flesh, or some copy or other.

I once plagued even dreams, intentionally, however, now….

I only wish I could find myself in the heart and hopes of Fluttershy. 

Anything she asks of me, I will not be able to deny her, not in a thousand, thousand years.

Not even if she were to disagree with the views and visions of mine.

I am hopelessly, helplessly held captive by her ocean teal eyes alone, her gaze enchanting, reflecting the kindness emanating from her very being.

Don’t get me started on the way she sings, how she call me in my dreams.

If only they were not that…. dreams.

I am glad for my place here in her humble abode, and not under the harsh scrutiny of the celestial princesses of this “Equestria”.  For should the princesses make their inquiries as to my relationship with her, I would not be able to deny it. 

I am deaf to the me I used to be, and I find no entertainment in the shrieks and curses I once found so enjoyable. Everything I loved before her, pale in the brilliance of her beauty, the grace and modesty contained within such a fragile heart…. that I would have destroyed. That I had almost destroyed with my corruption. I still love chaos, but when I am near her, I see and yearn for only her gaze to fall lovingly upon me. 

Chaos for me is no longer a clear path for me, I won’t lie and say I don’t feel an itch to create havoc and anarchy, but there is no such desires left when I hear her song. It always returns, but I try my best to “behave” as she says. I wish she would speak me less like an animal under her care, or a silly colt, ut I suppose my maturity is a little in question. Or maybe a lot in question. But I wish nonetheless that she would tell me she loved me…. 

I’ve seen a few of her dreams, though I try to avoid it, she never likes when I invade her privacy, so I wait for her to admit it to herself, she doesn’t seem to want to believe it. 

I wish she would. 

But until then I will wait. I will wait forever for this mare, even if she is for that long oblivious. I love her that much. 

And as her presence drowns all my senses, and I have no other thoughts but of her, I make mistakes, fumbling noticeably, though she still doesn’t notice it. I fear she will never admit to me her true feelings. I wonder that such a transparent mare should bottle up so many emotions, and still hide them so well. But still I wait for her, believing that one day she’ll stop lying to herself for the sake of her friends. I’ve seen those nightmares as well.

Her kindness seems to radiate from her, I swear, If I was new to nonsense, I would have thought myself mad. Even now I ponder the possibility, that I, The lord of Chaos, has gone and lost his head, but then It still resides on my shoulders, does it not?

One can never really tell lest they look to a mirror…..

How could she love me, how could she not? How can she disguise it so well? Does it kill her as much as it’s killing me?

This pain is worse than being turned to stone, and I’m sure, though Celestia wouldn’t agree with me, that it is far worse than watching millenniums of one’s subjects passing away, especially because I can never know how much time we have left. I don't’ know if I could bare never admitting my love to her. 

What if I never get the chance, and she never does so herself, leaving both of us alone for as long as our lives stretch. However short hers is, I hope it’s long enough.

So forever I will wait, whether I tell her or not, I hope the result heals this heart’s agony, or that somehow I could put an end to this poor heart of mine, and it’s misery.