To My Princess, on the Day of My Departure
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To My Princess, on the Day of My Departure

To My Princess, on the Day of My Departure

by D. G. D. Davidson

Dear Princess Twilight Sparkle,

I realize it is presumptuous of me to write to Your Highness in this way. Indeed, I am a stallion of no account, and I do not even know how properly to address a letter to a princess, but I am told that Your Highness does not stand on ceremony nor put on airs, so I pray you to forgive me if this missive arouses your displeasure.

Your Highness might not recollect me, though we met at the recent princess summit in the Crystal Empire, where twice (and I again pray your forgiveness) I foolishly and clumsily stood in Your Highness’s path. Although you probably never noticed me before then, I have long known of you: your fame stretches from Manehatten to the Sparkling Sea, and they tell of your brave deeds in every café or sarsaparilla-joint in the kingdom—of how you returned Princess Luna to us, of how you defeated Discord, and of how you uncovered Queen Chrysalis at the wedding of Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor. Still more, especially amongst the guards, they tell of how, waxing wroth at the fillynapping of three innocent foals, you ventured into the trackless wastes to find Chrysalis again and challenge her to single combat. It is in part because of that adventure that I write to you today.

I must have entered training for the royal guard around the same time Your Highness moved to Ponyville for the final phase of your own training, so I was but a cadet when you faced Chrysalis a second time, and I was but little more than a cadet during that which followed on your adventure’s heels: Your Highness, I confess to you that I was one of the soldiers who fought on the Trail of Blood. The path you walked in victory, I walked in ignominy and defeat, and I cannot write to you of those unhappy events except in burning shame.

I pen this while sitting on a decrepit, wind-beaten dock in the airship port of Bottom Dregs, the last civilized outpost on the edge of the Wild. Only a hundred feet from me, the E.A.S. Wind Whistler, an aerial clipper, bobs on her moorings while the gusty wind attempts to snatch her dirigible balloon or rip open her tightly furled sails. Longshoreponies busily load her with the supplies we will need for our journey—barrels of applejack and water, and crates of hardtack, salt, and dried apples. We set sail soon for Zebrabwe, and we shall not return to Equestria for two years. I am a mere airpony, and I come from no noble family, so I shall spend those years serving before the mast. I have no taste for applejack, nor for the merry rope’s end, but I imagine I had best learn to like, or at least endure, the both of them.

Because of our destination, we shall have zebras aboard with us. I can see them up on the deck: amongst them is the mare Mwanajumba, the only one who speaks Ponese, though she speaks it in a singsong rhyme. She is translator for the rest of them, and she is right now talking to Captain Jack Tar; from the way she keeps pointing to the south, I think she’s telling him she doesn’t like the thunderheads building over the mountains there. I can’t say I blame her: it’s a frightening thing to venture beyond the rim to where pegasi no longer control the clouds.

I have let my thoughts wander. Do you know of the Trail of Blood, Your Highness? You must. I am sure Princess Celestia must have told you. I am sure you must have discussed it at length at the princess summit. It was only my second mission, and I thought, for a time, that it would be my last.

When the Secretariat Comet flashed through the sky, all of Canterlot was in chaos. Cloudsdale’s Weather Bureau had not consulted with Canterlot’s Royal Observatory, so a fierce thunderstorm had been scheduled for that night. Provoked by the magical aura of the comet, enormous cockatrices with bodies like snakes’ and wings like bats’ flew out of the lashing rain and drove down upon the city: some even gripped towers in their powerful claws and toppled them. All soldiers, even the cadets, were called out. I barely had time to climb into my platinum night-barding and take up my spear before a lieutenant commander shoved me out the door and into the night. The rain chimed rhythmically against my armor like hundreds of tiny bells.

I was among the guards responsible for getting civilians to safety, so I did no fighting. Princess Celestia herself, fearless and unarmored, blazing like the sun, flew from her high tower straight into the fray. I caught a glimpse of her streaking through the night sky like a stream of white fire, and my heart swelled with that unique mixture of pride and shame that is the constant companion of all guardsponies: we swear to protect and defend the princess, to lay down our lives for her if need be, and yet it is so often she who protects and defends us instead. Perhaps I should not say so, for guards rarely say it aloud, but most—nearly all, perhaps—of the guards are in love with her. Some may swear themselves to her from a sense of honor or duty or from a desire for glory, but they are few and far between. Having walked so many years in her shadow, Your Highness might understand this: you must know what it is to live in service to a pony ageless and beautiful, who in moving the heavens delimits the time the rest of us have to walk this earth. To one such as her, we must appear and disappear like mist. Perhaps most ponies pledged to her service cannot help but love her.

Only a few days after the comet, we learned of how, while we were battling the cockatrices, Your Highness battled Chrysalis and sealed her in a prison in order to bring home the three fillynapped foals. You were not yet a princess then, of course, but most of us already knew you as Princess Celestia’s protégé, and your fame had been steadily growing. We drank much sarsaparilla to your health when we learned of your latest exploit.

A month after that, Princess Celestia selected a company of able-bodied guardsponies to venture along the same path you had taken to the Changeling Kingdom, which had formerly been Wuvy-Dovey Smoochy Land, in order to bring that land’s inhabitants to safety before Chrysalis and her swarm could free themselves of your enchantment. Celestia herself decided to travel with us. I volunteered for the mission, in part because I was naïve and eager to see action, in part because I wished to explore the lands beyond our borders—and also in part because I wished to see the place where you had performed your latest act of derring-do.

Our march south was a glorious affair. We had all polished our golden armor to its highest lustre, and, as we passed through several hamlets on our way to the border, ponies came out to meet us, to cheer, and to offer us refreshment. We expected this to be an easy mission, so we were all in high spirits even as we made our way through the old Diamond Dog mines and into the thick tangle of the Forest of Leota. Aside from flies and heat, we met no difficulties. The forest was full of monsters of all sorts, of course, but there were so many of us, and we lit such large fires at night, that none of the creatures harassed us, though we often spotted bright eyes peering at us from shadows or saw flashing movements in the underbrush.

We emerged at last into Wuvy-Dovey Smoochy Land. I suppose I need not tell you of the grim horrors we met there, of the cozy village of thatch-roofed cottages all bedecked with Changeling slime, or of the tiny corpses the Changelings had left lying in the streets after draining them of their love.

Since the Changelings were still in your prison, the native inhabitants, the luvcats, came unhindered to meet us. I do not know whether you encountered these creatures yourself, Your Highness, but they are remarkable: covered all over with soft fur and shaped almost like cats, but with short, fan-like tails, they seem incapable of any emotion, at least toward outsiders, except absolute adoration and love. As soon as we stepped into their wasted hamlet, they met us with greeting cards, hugs, purrs of pleasure, and offers of food—such as they had, that is. They were all gaunt, and their eyes were hollow, and their coats were filthy, matted, and mangy. The Changelings had decimated their population, but so ruined their land that the few luvcats who had survived were starving. We distributed food from our supplies, to which the luvcats responded by redoubling their affections.

After we set a watch, we spent the night there. I awoke in the morning to find six of the luvcats clinging to me and snoring softly. I supposed then that the march home would be uneventful, and I imagined that in three days’ time we would return to Canterlot in victory with the luvcats in tow, and that we would congratulate ourselves for rescuing them from danger.

How wrong I was.

We were almost midway through the Forest of Leota, and Celestia had brought the sun near the horizon, when they first struck. I heard a commotion and a series of unintelligible shouts and squeals on the far end of the column. That put me on my guard, though it did little good: I stood near a knot of eighteen or twenty luvcats, and while I was looking around for danger, wondering what might have caused the disturbance, I saw one of the luvcats enter some low bushes, but I did not see him come out again. Curious, and with a vague sense of foreboding, I walked to those bushes and prodded them with the butt of my spear.

At my prodding, a huge, red flower, shaped vaguely like a tulip, rose out of the undergrowth. Rimming the flower’s interior was a ring of inward-curving teeth from which hung ragged bits of raw, bloody flesh. With a cry, I flipped my spear around and made to attack, but not before one of the luvcats, a beatific smile on his face, ran toward the murderous flower with his forelimbs spread wide, as if asking for a hug.

The flower responded by snapping forward like a spring, enveloping the luvcat’s head, and biting clean through his neck, producing a gush of red like ink from a snapped fountain pen. I thrust the monster through with my spear, but then I heard shouts of anger, whinnies, animalistic snarls, and squeals of pain from all around me: the creatures of the forest, too afraid to beset us when we marched south, could not resist the easy prey we brought with us as we marched north, so they attacked en masse.

With my blade dripping green sap, I found myself face-to-face with a horde of vampiric jackalopes. A few tried to bite through my barding with their sharp fangs, but most merely bounded past me and dove into the crowd of luvcats. The luvcats made no attempt to flee, but welcomed their predators, quite literally, with open forelimbs. Only when the jackalopes bit into their flesh did the luvcats’ purrs of pleasure turn to shrieks of pain. Great Celestia, they screamed just like foals!

I struck about with my spear until the soil of the forest had turned to red mud beneath my hooves. I could not tell the jackalopes’ blood from the luvcats’, nor from my own. The other guards fought alongside me, but, no matter how hard we tried, we could not keep the luvcats in a group; we could not gather them together to protect them. No matter how many died screaming, the others, heedless of their companions’ fate, ran with affectionate cries toward each new hungry monster.

Princess Celestia, her forelegs coated in blood up to her knees, galloped by me. With a sharp glance, she roared, “Do not try to hold the ground! If we stay, all the luvcats are lost! Herd them, push them, carry them, force them any way you can, but make them run! We must reach the mines!” Then she flew past me; I would not believe it had I not seen it with my own eyes, but she reared over a slavering leopard-like thing and, with her golden bell boots, trampled it into the dust, heedless of the blood that splattered her legs and belly. She turned and impaled a jackalope on her horn; then, with her wings, she snatched up several luvcats like a hen gathering chicks, loaded them onto her back, and took flight.

I tried to follow her example. I called the luvcats with affectionate sounds and loving promises, and many followed my voice, but several fell to shrieking birds or ravenous lizards before they could reach me. I piled as many as I could onto my back, but I could only hold a few; the others tumbled off.

Five rode me. I slipped my spear through the rings on my saddlebag so I could snatch up a sixth in my forelegs, and then I took flight. They were heavy, but they all hugged me with delightful purrs, so I had some assurance that they would not fall off. I thought these, at least, were safe—but then I saw another of those tooth-rimmed flowers opening its maw below me, and though I could scarce believe my eyes, the thing floated off the ground and headed my way. I flapped hard to lift up above the canopy, but the flower merely floated after like an untethered balloon.

Amongst pegasi, I am accounted a strong flyer, but, try as I might, I could not outrace that carnivorous plant. It lifted toward me and clamped its bulb around the torso of the luvcat I held in my hooves. A moment before, the luvcat had been murmuring softly and petting the feathers on my fetlocks, but now he screamed and clutched me tight enough to scrape the fur from my legs. He kept on screaming as the flower’s bud pulsed, rending and chewing his flesh.

I screamed as well. I screamed at the luvcat to let go so that I might grab my spear, the tip of which I could easily see jutting out beyond my champron. But I could not reach it, for I could not extricate my legs from the luvcat’s death-grip.

At last, the murderous flower tore the luvcat from me. I snatched my spear in my bleeding limbs, but the flower floated beyond my reach, and I dared not chase it, lest I lose the others clinging to my back.

After that, Captain Vanguard managed to reorganize us. The unicorns set up a rolling cascade of force fields to protect those luvcats whom the pegasus ponies could not carry. A few pegasi remained on the ground to herd the luvcats together and prevent as many as we could from attempting to breach the force fields and hug the creatures bent on devouring them. Princess Celestia I saw only once or twice as she darted between the trees like a ghost, striking down the most dangerous of the monsters that threatened. Through the whole battle, the sun remained perched above the rim of the world, unmoving: Celestia held it there until we reached the relative safety of the abandoned Diamond Dog mines.

The monsters ceased their pursuit when we entered the mines. Once inside, we found a broad room of rock where we set up camp. All of us were scratched, filthy, and bloody, but we had lost no ponies in the fighting. However, we had lost a full half of the luvcats we had gathered from Wuvy-Dovey Smoochy Land.

Princess Celestia entered last. She was covered in blood, as I already said, and I could see now that a good deal of it was her own. That same sense of wonder, pride, and shame passed through me: there was something humbling in seeing her wounded from battle, but also something glorious, as if the marks on her pure body and the stains on her perfect coat could only add to her majesty, never detract from it. Her misty hair flowed in its own wind, covering half her stern face. Her one exposed eye swept over us as we coughed, pulled off our champrons, treated one another’s wounds, and cursed under our breath.

Surrounded by the five luvcats I had saved, I sat and stared at the tip of my spear, which I had not yet cleaned. The red blood coating it was turning hard and black. The luvcats I’d rescued petted and stroked me and climbed over my withers, but I paid them no mind. I heard a loud clank, as of bell boots striking stone, directly before me; I looked up to see Celestia’s face. She was bending over me, and she said, “He died knowing that somepony loved him enough to fight to save him. For the natives of Wuvy-Dovey Smoochy Land, that is enough.”

I broke down and wept. Princess Celestia, still covered with the gore of battle, bandaged my wounds with her own hooves.

After wrapping my legs, she put down the sun, and we were left to mull over our failure in the darkness. We built a fire near the cave entrance and set a watch. I tried to sleep, but could not: those five luvcats who’d ridden my back insisted on cuddling close to me. I wanted them to hate me for letting their companion die, but they would not: hate is not something they can feel; they are afflicted with a peculiar, driving need to love absolutely and unconditionally all creatures not of their own kind. It sounds beautiful, but I have seen what it means for them. It is a curse.

I must pause, Your Highness, to collect myself. The memories are still fresh and painful. I see that the longshoreponies are almost finished loading the supplies. Most of the soldiers are already aboard, and the Pony Express mailmare is making her rounds to pick up the last of our letters before we set out for the Wild. I must hurry.

You know, of course, that we returned to Equestria with the remnant of the luvcats in tow. They will never again have the beautiful and peaceful society they knew in their homeland before the Changelings came. Surrounded by ponies and other creatures different from themselves, they can do nothing but show affection. They cannot work. They can barely feed themselves. If they are to live, they can be little more than pets to us. It is a hard fate.

This I should not tell you, but rage and grief have made me bold: those who walked the Trail of Blood have made a pact, and we remind one another of it whenever we meet. “Remember the luvcats,” we say, for we have sworn vengeance: someday, the Changelings will come again, and when they do, we will shed two drops of Changeling blood for every one the luvcats shed in the forest that day. Some crimes are unforgivable.

You see, Your Highness, where you had succeeded, I failed. You rescued captives out of the very teeth of Chrysalis, but I could not rescue even one poor, wretched luvcat from the teeth of a flying flower. I have long known of you, I have long admired you, and Princess Celestia, for reasons she did not tell me, ordered me to be part of the honor guard at the princess summit, where I finally met you.

But even before I met you, I failed you.

Shortly after the summit, I requested this tour of duty in Zebrabwe, for Equestria has made my heart heavy. Your Highness, I have heard that you’ve been passing new laws in Ponyville, trying different things in preparation for the kingdom you must one day rule. I heard how you established Cake Day, and of how you encouraged families to eat together. I heard about your baby animal sanctuary. I heard also that one of your friends recommended that you hold a contest to find the fastest pegasi to serve as your personal guard.

I am accounted a fast flyer, as I already said, but I will make no request of you. If I might ever have a place on your guard, I intend to earn that place, not ask for it. I chose this tour in Zebrabwe because I knew it would be hard. I chose it because I hope it will give me the chance to become a better guard than I am today, a guard worthy of Equestria’s newest princess.

I mentioned before that most guards are in love with Princess Celestia. Most, but not all. Some, in their hearts, dedicate themselves to one of the other princesses. Your brother, of course, the great Captain Armor, dedicated himself to Princess Cadance, and he has received more from his beloved than any other guard could dare ask or hope for. I do not presume to imagine that I might follow in his hoofsteps: a guard wants nothing more than to protect his princess, to stand watch over her, and to live and die in her service. I fear I am not yet a true guard, for I find that I want too much.

I am also a coward, for I would never dare write these words if I were not soon to seal them up, give them away to the mailmare, and flee to a distant land. Your Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle, I love you. I have loved you since the moment I first heard your name, and I shall never love another so long as I live.

I ask nothing of you, but, when I have returned, I hope you will find me worthy of your service.

Forgive me.

Your faithful servant,

Flash Sentry