Chapter 1
A Bouquet of Flowers
I had always watched her from a distance, never really daring to show myself and express my feelings. After all, how could a draconequus like me ever hope to have a chance with an alicorn, much less a princess? Still, as love knows no age, love knows no bounds. Oh, how I’d fallen the moment I laid eyes on her. She was more than beautiful; she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, and I have an appreciation for beauty. How her brilliant white coat caught the sunlight! How her elegant mane flowed in the gentle breeze! How her kind, warm smile absolutely lit up the world, even as the sun did! That very smile shot an arrow straight through my heart. How cruel love is, to strike you where it hurts so badly and still make you beg for more! For what else could this love do but hurt?
I knew in my mind all too well where this love would end, but my heart wouldn’t have any of it. I battled myself for the better part of a year, trying to put such a hopeless fantasy out of my mind. What use was such a fantasy when it would have to remain just that: a fantasy? I was a draconequus; my kind hadn’t been to Equestria for a century, and from what I learned from my first visit to Equestria, those of my race were not exactly welcome in this land. They drove me away the moment they laid eyes on me, attacking wildly even though I had done nothing to provoke them. I supposed that was only fair, seeing as the deeds of past draconequi in Equestria were far from pleasant, memorable though they were.
I could have spent days recounting the crimes the draconequus race committed against Equestria back then, though none were organized. Many a troublesome vagabond had been known to bring havoc and destruction to the young land, which then hadn’t even been called Equestria. In fact, it hadn’t even been a country at that time, but the ponies always shared a sense of unity that lent them their identity. Therefore, the crimes of the many draconequi were viewed as attacks on ponykind. The deeds of the few were portrayed as the deeds of the many, and the draconequi came to be shunned throughout Equestria. We quickly began to better control our outcasts to keep them away from the growing country, but our kind remained forever in the ponies’ memories and myths.
Those myths changed over time, but they held the same idea: those of the draconequus race were to be feared and shunned, for their deeds were worse than those of the wild dragons. Over and over again, the same foreboding message was reiterated through different anecdotes and legends that the ponies of Equestria never seemed to forget. This long memory of theirs was what nagged at me, day after day and night after night; no one in Equestria would accept me. How, then, could I expect her to be any different? Still, some part of me refused to listen. Somehow, she would be different. She had to be different. I spent many a night fighting with my mutinous emotions, unsure of which to believe, my head or my heart, until I decided enough was enough.
I finally gave in after countless months of watching from afar, pining away like a child, and allowed myself to entertain thoughts of romance, thoughts of love, and of love returned. And how sweet it was to finally give in! What use was logic when love too readily offered its own endings, happy endings that logic could not? Gone was the pain of love restrained, replaced with dreams of love fulfilled. Gone were any thoughts of rejection, replaced by wonderful fantasies filled with happy endings that I knew, but chose to forget, could never be.
I planned for weeks to decide how we would meet, working out every minute detail. I couldn’t tell her how I had been watching her from a distance for almost a year, for that would be much too upsetting, and, frankly, creepy. Just showing up empty-handed wouldn’t do either, not at all. No, I needed something, an offering to show my good intent, something to show her I really cared, and that I wasn’t just trying to gain favors. I needed something that would make me stand out from the tedium of her daily routine, something to set me apart from the countless subjects she spoke with every day. Oh, and I needed to introduce myself, since I obviously couldn’t just waltz up to her and confess my love. That would be much too forward; she would definitely get the wrong impression. I couldn’t get ahead of myself, or I’d ruin any chance I had. So, I would need a gift that would set me apart from her subjects that wouldn’t be too romantic or too bland; I would need something perfect. What could I get the one who brings up the sun every morning? What could I do to make a good impression…?
Flowers should do the trick.
I knew that regular old store-bought flowers weren’t any good, since anybody could buy them, add a little handwritten note, and be done with it. No, I needed something better than that. Only perfection would do. I needed flowers that showed I really cared, flowers that meant something. Roses were nice, but the romanticism attached to them might give her the wrong impression. Tulips and daffodils were fine, but something about them just wasn’t right. I needed something special, something perfect. What was perfection to her, who was already perfect in every way? What flowers could catch her eye, make her see that I was sincere? After a while, it occurred to me that nature is perfect in and of itself, so to nature I went in my search. I discovered a field full of wildflowers not far from Canterlot, and I knew immediately that I had found what I was looking for. I would need lots of colors—just one was so bland—so I tried to get one of everything. When I was done, I had a beautiful bouquet that I thought would be just right.
Then my breath caught in my throat. Here I was, gathering flowers in the field, but I didn’t even know when or where I would give them to her! I almost dropped that exquisite bouquet then and there, but something stayed my hand. Something gave me a gentle nudge: wasn’t there a simple spell that could preserve the flowers? Of course there was, if I could only remember it. After a moment, I was able to recall the appropriate spell and cast it on the flowers. They looked the same as they had before, but I knew that they would keep their appearance for much longer than normal. My shoulders dropped a bit as I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I needed to relax; after all, it was almost night time, so I would have to wait, but for how long…?
Tomorrow! That would be it. Tomorrow was Saturday, when she usually took a walk in the Royal Garden in the afternoon. I nodded to myself, set on my new goal: tomorrow would be the day. Tomorrow, I would finally meet my love.
I barely slept that night. I went over every detail, agonizing over every aspect of our first meeting. I would go on a casual stroll through the garden around the same time she usually did in the afternoons. I would approach her, introduce myself, and offer her the flowers and my friendship as the only known draconequus in Equestria. Of course there were the draconequi before me that had wrought chaos and destruction. But somehow I knew she’d be different from the other ponies, that she would understand. She would see the real me, and of course she would smile and say yes. After that, we’d talk about… well, everything. I would be funny and charming, and she’d laugh and light up the world with her smile. I’d tell her about my life as a draconequus, she’d tell me about ruling Equestria, and we would talk the afternoon away, and she would fall for me the same way I fell for her.
All this and more was racing through my mind as I arrived at the royal garden. I had to sneak past the guards, of course, but I had done it so many times the past year that it was effortless. I had listened in on them before, and they had mentioned her name: Celestia (Even her very name bespoke heavenly beauty!). I began my stroll, holding the flowers behind my back and striving to keep my nerves in check. I guessed the guards had their suspicions about my presence, but I was sure Celestia had no idea I was in Equestria. I had tried to keep it that way so our meeting could be just perfect, but I didn’t know for sure whether or not she knew of my recent presence in Canterlot.
I was also uncertain whether she would know I was a draconequus or not, since I knew my kind were different from descriptions given in the old books. I also knew that there couldn’t be any new books on my race, because we had kept to ourselves since Equestria was formally founded. Our race was much older and had seen no need to deal with these curious newcomers, and they had not bothered us, so we kept to ourselves. Of course, there were the belligerent outcasts that we failed to control who found their way into the growing country. Unfortunately, those were the last to interact with the ponies of what would become Equestria. That was a century ago, but my visit to Manehattan had proven that the ponies hadn’t yet forgotten. What a perfect surprise it would be, then, when Celestia learned that the only draconequus to visit Equestria in a hundred years was offering his friendship!
I was so lost in my thoughts, I nearly walked right past her. I had wandered to the fountain and, by an amazing stroke of luck, approached her from behind, so she hadn’t noticed me yet. She was sitting on a bench, serene and beautiful as could be, seeming content just to look at the sky and enjoy the day. I stood motionless for a while, more than happy to merely drink in her beauty even as she drank in the sunlight. Oh, how her coat gleamed in the sunlight! How her long, elegant mane sparkled in the afternoon sun! How beautiful she was, and how much more beautiful with a look of such peace and joy on her face!
I tried to swallow past the apple-sized lump forming in my throat, but without success. As I slowly made my way towards the sitting princess, I was aware of everything around me assaulting my senses: the violent pounding of my heart, the mixed scents of dozens of flowers, the bright green leaves of the topiary and the startlingly white marble statues that her coat nonetheless put to shame, and the soft earth beneath my mismatched feet. Close by I could hear a pair of songbirds twittering away. I tried to swallow again, with a little more success. My tongue suddenly felt heavy in my mouth, and I wet my lips nervously as I tried to control my nerves.
Once I was a respectable distance from her, I stopped. She still hadn’t noticed me, which was odd considering the pounding in my chest could have woken the dead. I stood and waited a moment—or was it an eternity?—content just to watch her sit there. Finally I worked up the nerve to clear my throat softly, feeling somewhat ashamed for interrupting her peaceful solitude. She blinked and turned to look at me.
Oh, her eyes! Even her mane and coat paled in comparison to those lovely violet eyes, which were appraising me with a quizzical look. I quickly averted my own, feeling my face heat up as though I were next to a fire. I heard her stand up and take a tentative step towards me. I couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes again, or I didn’t know what I’d do. After another eternity, I remembered I was supposed to be doing something. What was it I was doing? It was so hard to focus with her standing right there…. Introduce myself! Right, I was supposed to introduce myself.
But my tongue suddenly stuck to the roof of my mouth while my brain screamed at me: Be polite, be charming, be humble, be yourself! Tell her your name! Offer her your friendship! My mouth was unresponsive. Oh no, she was staring at me, I just knew it. I could feel those bright, glittering orbs burning a hole in my skin.
Finally I managed to get my mouth to cooperate. I was nearly shaking from apprehension, but I managed to stutter out my name and that, to my knowledge, I was the only draconequus in Equestria, and offered her the flowers as a token of my friendship, bowing as I did so. Once I had dropped to one knee, the bouquet extended, I stared at my feet, waiting for her response. After a long pause, she gently took the flowers from my hand, surrounding them with the yellow glow of her magic. All I could hear was my own breathing and the ever-louder pounding of my heart, which was hammering in my chest at triple its normal speed. An agonizingly long moment came and went, but I dared not look up yet. What was going on? What was she thinking? Why was she so quiet? I held my breath as another eternity passed…
…and my beautiful bouquet fell to the ground.
I reached forward to pick it up, but she stomped on my paw, pinning it to the ground and, with it, the bouquet—her bouquet. I slowly lifted my head to see those wonderful, glowing eyes filled with ice-cold fury and, worse, outright disgust. The slight throbbing in my paw couldn’t compare to the pain I felt when she turned those unforgiving jewels on me; I had shown her nothing but kindness, worked so long to prepare for this moment. I had believed completely that she was different from the others, that she would accept me for who I was and not what I was. I had laid out my very heart for her, and she was going to break it.
“You…” she began, but she paused as if to collect her thoughts. Her voice would have been so sweet if it hadn’t been choked with rage. “You would dare to offer these to me when your kind has brought nothing but death and terror to my people?” She started shouting, using the traditional Royal Canterlot Voice in her unbridled hatred, but she might as well have brought a lash down on my back. “After all you have done, you have the impudence to ask for my friendship?” She spat out the last word as if it were poisonous. She removed her hoof from my paw and drew herself up to her full, majestic height. “Hear me well, draconequus: you will have no friends in Equestria, not while I am alive to remember what you did.” She punctuated her last sentence by giving the flowers another stomp. Each word hurt me more than her hoof ever could.
“I…” I began to stammer out a feeble response while I rubbed my injured paw, but she quickly cut me off with an impatient wave of her hoof.
“Don’t bother,” she said, returning her voice to its normal volume. The rage had left her voice, replaced with the darkest shade of contempt. “You’re just like the others that came here before. They came offering their friendship and goodwill, then turned around and murdered countless innocent civilians the moment I turned my back. I’ll hear no honeyed lies from you, or from any of your people.” She turned away after a final stomp on the bouquet; she ground those bright, vibrant petals into the dirt like so many vile insects. I doubted she knew she was also crushing my heart.
When she reached the edge of the opening that contained the fountain, she glanced back at me. I wondered how she could manage to convey so much hatred, repulsion, and scorn in that single burning look.
“Now get out. And if you ever,” she added, dropping her voice to a deadly quiet whisper, “come back here again, I will strike you down like the monster you truly are.” Then she turned away, as though I were something sickening to even look at, and walked out of my life.
If I thought I was hurt before, I was wrong. No weapon or spell could ever hope to match the way her final words battered me; each syllable was a slap in the face. Nobody else could hurt me like that, not if I lived a hundred thousand years. She couldn’t have hurt me any worse if she had flogged me within an inch of my life. In fact, I would have even preferred that fate to seeing those cold, furious eyes turned on me. I would have gladly taken any punishment rather than listen to her speak to me as though I were lower than the dirt beneath her hooves. I remained on my knee, staring after her, completely numb. Then I reached down and gently picked up the tattered remains of one of the flowers and held it gently in my claw. A single tear rolled down my cheek and landed on a petal, dislodging it from its place. As I watched the petal cascade to the ground, a single thought echoed through my mind.
Where had I gone wrong?
I left Canterlot immediately. After all, it was what she wanted, so I had no reason to stay. My only love had turned me away, called me a monster. And who was I to say she was wrong? The very sight of me brought the ponies of Equestria to tears and, more often, violence. Even mentioning my race would make the little colts and fillies shudder and squeal in terror. To them, I was a hideous beast to be shunned and feared. But still I had chosen to chase after a dream of love that could never come true.
Even though she had hurt me as badly as one can ever be hurt, I didn’t resent her. After all, I was the one foolish enough to believe we could be together. I was the one naïve enough to think she would be different from the others, that she would accept me as no one else had. I learned the hard way how wrong I was, but the worst part was being unable to blame her. She had only told me what everyone else had; so why, why did it ache so badly? Why did I have this unbearable pain in my chest that wouldn’t go away? Why did I feel so empty, as if my heart had been ripped out of my body? With a sickening jolt, I realized that it had.
These were the thoughts that kept me lying awake that night, raging through my mind like a whirling tempest with no end. I had gone back to the field where I had picked that bouquet; somehow the cruel irony of returning to the place where this began was fitting. I made my bed among the multicolored wildflowers that had once seemed so perfect and inviting. Their allure was gone, though. They mocked me with their beauty, reminding me of her. I couldn’t even bring myself to think her name, for fear I would burst into tears. Already I had watered many of the flora with my own salty raindrops, and I didn’t want to lose control again so soon. Aside from expressing my bottomless grief, my thoughts seemed to always take the form of questions: What had I done wrong? What had I done to deserve this? And above all, why? Why me? Why her? Why not “us”? I knew the answers, but still the questions wouldn’t let me be. Knowing the answers just presented another question: how could I accept them?
I lay awake all night, pondering these questions and their answers, but I couldn’t bring myself to accept the truth. I knew I never had a chance with her, but still I felt a sense of deep-seated loss. Living without her was living without the sun. Everything was empty and dull. Even as the sun began its slow journey from the eastern horizon, the world seemed dark and gray to my eyes. A new day was dawning, but I was shrouded in eternal night without her.
