Merely A Letter

by Regina Wright

A

~~~~~

Dear Twilight Sparkle,

How are you faring these days? I hope the cookies I've sent brighten your spirits as they do mine. They say that there will be some light snow sometime next week so be sure to get a nice scarf and hat. When the weather turns, I like to bind my hair into a low hanging ponytail and stick it into a hat. Sure, it makes my hair look terrible once I take the hat off but you can't deny the look it gives me.

I will admit that I find my eyes drawn to you these days. I won't say that admire you but you do have a certain appeal. But I've notice that you tend to stick to the same styles. You hardly change your mane and I have never seen a student who hasn't tried wearing a single piece of clothing. It seems that you will be the first. That's adorable.

At this time of the year, I indulge in jackets and coats. This may sound odd but I do love a pair of stripped socks attached to some pleasing thighs. But as a stallion, I'm often too embarrassed to wear them in public. I envy girls in that fashion. Also for their fashion. This is so shameless for me to admit.

I am doing fine. My essay been sent to publication and I am waiting for the editor's review. Not to toot my own horn, but I expect that my article will be going into circulation very soon. I've published many papers over the years and I know that my most recent one is a keeper. If you're unsure about diving into writing, you can throw some ideas here. I can walk you through the process of making a highly well-written paper for the readers' viewing pleasure. But that is just a thought.

If you aren't interested, I won't push the idea any further but you could only be limiting yourself. What are your plans after school? How far do you plan to take your higher education? These are things you should be thinking about. But I can understand if you are a complete scatterbrain.

You have the rest of your life to be a failure, no need to rush the process of your self-realization.

Yours,

Secret Admirer

~~~~~

---

Twilight does smile a lot more than she used to. And it is a different smile she wears when she is reading the letter. Her lips curl around her cheeks, her bottom lip pulls in and the sides of her eyes crinkle. Sometimes, she wiggles her nose as she sighs to herself. I wonder what she's thinking. Sometimes, she sniffs the paper and closes her eyes in content. I wonder what I smell like. Is it of my creator? Is it him that gives her such pleasure.

I carry a set of knowledge that I was born with. And only that. Whatever deviates from my purpose or meaning, I tend to forget. Often, it is not worth it to attempt to make content with a proper being. To do so would drive me back into insanity and so I chose to continue to be in peace.

I know my creator's intent.

I know Twilight and Spike.

I know of this school, Celestia's School For Gifted Unicorns.

These things make up my world and are dear to me. But I imagine that my reasoning and observation of this room, of Twilight is poor. I simply don't posses the capacity. Thus I can only speculate. Spike once referred to me as a 'love letter' and made actions that suggested romantic intentions. I can only assume that I am a courting letter. No, a courting exchange to win Twilight's heart.

My creator sent me in his stead and so I hope I am performing my purpose adequately.

Today, something is bundled about with my usual white envelop. It is colorful, see-through plastic bag of cookies. They are have brown chunks within them. They must be the chocolate chips. Twilight levitates one out. It is crumbly and burnt in places but Twilight still sniffs with that content look on her face and bites gently into the snack. She leans back as she chews, groaning with pleasure as she moves for another bite.

“So this is what his cooking tastes like. Looks I've found his flaw. These cookies could look much better but taste so good." She giggles." If only his words could be just as sweet.”

Twilight finishes the cookie as the bell rings and an announcement begins. “I have Siege Spell Theory today. Can't be late even if these cookies are tempting me to.” Twilight gathers her things and takes the bag with her, a spring in her step as she goes out into the hallway.

---

~~~~~

Dear Twilight Sparkle,

How are you faring these days? I'm glad that you enjoyed the cookies and I vow on Star Swirl the Beard's glorious bells to never tell you the recipe. It's a family secret. A common idiom should suffice; I put my foot in it. You may call me unfair but I call you unfair to be have the highest score in our classroom on yesterday's test. I didn't even know it was possible to get 110 points. Mr. Spunk isn't the nicest teacher around and tend to be stingy with his points.

For you to do so well, I wonder about what that says about the rest of us.

I refuse to tell you my pseudonym in the Canterlot Journal. Even if it's still not linked to me in any way, I would not like to receive critiques from you in the mail. You should not mix business with pleasure. Because I receive money from my articles, I'd like to remain completely professional. These are the standards I set for myself. You should consider acquiring some yourself.

It's a bit silly and feminine but since I've notice the class has taken to wearing striped clothing, I'll try to slip some stripped sock with my boots. I might do it today or tomorrow. Whenever I work up the nerve.

I hope the snow isn't doing you in as it has me.

Yours,

Secret Admirer

~~~~~

---

“Are you sure that you know what you are doing?” Spike asks, a claw scratching his lower scales as he watches Twilight try again to bun up her hair. “I don't think it's suppose to hurt.”

Twilight twirls as she tries to look at the back of her head, her magic twisting her hair into knots and ribbons. Six different striped scrunchies lay torn to pieces in her fourth trash bin and fourteen others wait in the pack. She makes grunts of pain but already gave up attempting to use the mirror she bought. Spike only helplessly holds a brush and hovers with a nervous air around him.

“Spike, it doesn't-” Twilight screeches as her magic wavers and her incomplete bun collapses on it's own weight. “Hurt. Much.” Twilight quickly adds as she digs out the remains of the most recent scrunchie. It it thrown on the floor and Spike picks it up to put in the trash.

“It hurts to watch.”

Twilight shakes out her mane before sitting down and running her hooves through her hair. On the desk, a fashion magazine is whisked up into the air and floats over to Spike.

“I don't understand what I am doing wrong. It should be simple to imitate the hair in the pictures. The directions clearly state-”

Spike takes the magazine and recites, “Winter's Most Wanted: Cool and Quick tips to style your do. It might be cold outside but with these easy tips, you'll warm up your lucky stallion tonight. Wow Twilight, I didn't think that you were into this stuff.”

“I'm not. I was just curious. Sometimes, I get tired of my hair. There's nothing wrong with changing your look once in a while.”

“There's no need to get so defensive.” Spike notices the mix of green herbs and smashed citrus fruit stacked on Twilight's desk. It is a clear contrast of what usually occupies that space. Books, papers, quills or a pile of all three is always teetering off the edge, waiting to create a inky paper-cut avalanche. His eyes widen as they take the set of cotton wool caps and scarves with three stripes on the fuzzy ball on top that have invaded the rest of the desk space.

“I'm not defensive.” Twilight brushes all of her hair to the side and manages to make a long, side-braid. “I just wanted to make a bun and I couldn't do it. They are supposed to look really cute with hats.” She magically moves another scrunchie to tie to the start of the braid. “I guess this is good enough. What do you think, Spike?”

“Umm-”

Twilight's braid is loosening in places, stands are sticking out and the scrunchie climbs down the braid with a loud, petulant plop. The unicorn pales, tugging her braid apart and muttering under her breath before bending to pick it up.

“There was nothing wrong with your old hair style. Maybe, you should stick to that before you get creative.”

“But I wanted to look cute.” Twilight mumbles. “Is wrong to be cute?”

Spike ducks his head, dragging his claw along his shoulder before he says, “Whatever you're doing, you're doing it wrong. Let me help.”

Comments

[Regina Wright]

Originally, this story written as a long one-shot but the pacing really suffered. There may be one or two more chapters and then it's do. Tags will be added as the story progress and in a way, I've spoiled the story by what tags I didn't add.

[Ulrezaj]

Ok, I'm stumped. I'll just have to keep reading to find out who the mystery writer is.

[Ms_Fruit_Bat]

Spike has always been cleaning up after Hurricane Sparkle, hasn't he?
I'm losing this story!

[dragonjek]

I can't help but imagine that Secret Admirer is trying to set Twilight up for a humiliating public debacle.
It would be crushing enough to completely turn Twilight off from socializing with others until the series begins and address that "sad" tag... although I suppose the eventual fate of the letter could qualify for that.
Is the letter Sunset Shimmer? This does have the AU tag (which is also the reason I can hope that my above idea will get screwed over), so it's certainly possible. Secret Admirer as Sunset is the obvious choice (it's easy enough to lie about gender and clothing in written correspondence), which by default makes me suspicious of it.

[Unbridled Dolly]

Aw, poor Twilight. Where's Rarity when you need her?

[Regina Wright]

5535038
I'm right here, darling. But Twilight never told me about her writing love letters to her mysterious stallion. I wonder if it's too painful for her?

[Unbridled Dolly]

5535756 Hmm. That might be it. Or maybe something embarrassing happened in the end?

[Imperator Knoedel]

I won't say that admire you but you do have a certain appeal.

Yours,
Secret Admirer

[Regina Wright]

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