He's sitting at the desk, hands carefully at work on some piece of paper before him. A small candle lights up its surface, just enough to see properly. While his hands drag the pencil across the paper, his head bobs back and forth, and he mutters softly, melodically to himself, obviously lost in a song he remembered.

I pause, my hoof still in the air. What was that song? It seems, somehow, familiar...but I know I've never heard it before.

"All I hear is that..." he sings, barely audible over the scratching of his pencil. "lonesome sound..."

A haunting, wistful melody that somehow brings me a shiver, as if a gust of frigid air had just blown through the house.

I listen for a second more, entranced, before I shake myself and continue down the stairs. There was a reason I'd gotten up in the middle of the...well, the morning. Although I'm no stranger to burning the midnight oil, I always go to bed before one at the latest. By now, it was two-thirty.

I wonder how he could stay up this late and still wake up before noon. Maybe his circadian rhythms just work that way.

"Ketrand?"

He ceases scratching his quill across the paper, and stops singing, something which makes me sad to interrupt him. Turning around, he fixes me with those small yet expressive grey eyes, and smiles. "Twilight...you're up a long time past your namesake," he says in a deep, unaccented voice. "Everything all right, or is there something I can do for you?"

"I, uh..." Suddenly I'm at a loss for words. Settling on the nearest thing at hand, I say, "actually, I came to ask if you're alright staying up so late, and why you do."

He chuckles softly, and motions me over to the desk. "I never needed much sleep, and especially not here." Scratching his chin, he leans over to the window to peer out. "There's something about Equestria that just gives you energy, or at least I've always thought."

"But as for your second question, not much," he says sheepishly, waving a hand over the papers on the desk. "Just some light writing, during the night when my mind is clearer."

I look at a few of the pages.

...And that was Discord's curse. He brought me back the memories of my youth, the youth I always wondered about...but in return, he stole me from the minds of those I had come to love with my full heart. Desperately, I placed my hoof on my sister's shoulder, but she jumped back in shock, a look of disdain on her face...

...I sigh, breaking into sobs. "I'm nothing but a clever imitation! A magical construct! I have no soul, I have no self...I'm just a highly functioning program." He put a hoof on my shoulder. "Perhaps," he said, making my sobs redouble. "But do you really think it matters?" He gestured, vaguely. "If all of this were a simulation, if we were all asleep and this is the dream, do you think I would care?" I glanced up at him, shocked. "Even if it all were a clever imitation, I'd still stay here. I'd stay where I know it's right to stay. I'd stay because you're here. And even if you're just a clever imitation, you're still real to me." I blink the tears out of my eyes...

...The elevator is still working. Regardless of what I'd expected from the age of the technology, with hardly a noise, it slides down, down, into the unknown abyss below. Nearly half a minute passes before I notice the walls start to curve outward, and soon the elevator enters a massive chasm, lit up by innumerable ominous lights lining the floor. I squint to make them out, and realize I've seen these lights before...they're obelisks I know from experience to be at least thirty feet tall. Glowing with a terrifying pink glare, they brighten with a steady pulse echoing through the cavern, which causes my retinas and my eardrums to ache. I tighten my grip on the hilt of my blade...whatever's down here's causing the disease...it's more than I bargained for...

Blinking, I tear my eyes away from the papers. "Light writing, you said?"

He chuckles. "Well, much of it is my take on material I've read or seen before...so it doesn't take too much brainpower."

"It's pretty good for one night," I say, "If you finished some of these, you might make a lot of money selling copies."

He just shakes his head. "I don't think I could write for money...I have a hard enough time as it is. But I'm glad you liked them. After all, who better to give literary criticism?"

I hope I'm not blushing at that. I clear my throat, and then a thought hits me.

"Although, speaking not entirely of criticism, there is one thing I noticed," I say, and he raises an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Why is it all so...melancholy?"

Leaning back in his chair, he takes a good long time to think my question over. "I've always thought," he says finally, "that there are enough stories about good people doing good things for good reasons. If you want to read a nice, happy story that will make you smile, there's more than you could ever read already out there." Sighing, he closes his eyes. "And for the record, I have no grievance against those who do, as I enjoy those stories too. But I've always thought that it's those stories that make us cry, that make us think...those are the ones that help us become better."

He folds his hands on the table. "If I can help one pony become a better pony, all of this would be worth it."

Now it's my turn to think about that statement.

I take a good long time to think that statement over.

I fold my hands on the table. "If I can help one pony become a better pony, all of this would be worth it."

And I'm not lying. No matter how I've been treated by some of the inhabitants of this world, no matter what I've been through, or perhaps because of it, I meant every word I said, and I think Twilight realizes that too, as she's quiet for a good long time.

But before she can speak up again, I recall something I forgot to add. "Oh, another thing." Twilight looks up. "I've always liked melancholy stories. There's something beautiful in sadness. Only by experiencing true loss can we really appreciate what we have. To fully live, we must know we must die sometime, and the leaves will always fall in the autumn." I absently reach a hand over to put a hand on Twilight's shoulder. "Of course, I don't mean that in a nihilistic way, rather on the contrary. Life is a blessing, a great blessing. But without the bad times, how would we know what times are good?"

"In that way," I say, staring at the candle flame as it slowly grows dimmer, "sadness, loss, and pain are a blessing too. A gift that nobody wants."

I remain lost in thought, remembering a book with a similar name I'd read before on Earth by a man named Paul Brand. I watch the candle distantly, mulling over the philosophy of suffering in my mind.

Only when the candle sputters and dies do I realize it's been half an hour.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I look over to find myself absent-mindedly petting a furiously blushing Twilight's mane. My eyes go wide. How long have I been doing that? Uh...

"Oh, sorry, must have lost track of time," I say, and Twilight jumps a little, blinking in the darkness without the candle. She must have been dozing off. I take the chance and start coughing to give an excuse to take my hand away, while she lights up the tip of her horn in a soft white glow. If I don't acknowledge it, it won't be awkward, I think.

Nah, it's still super awkward.

Anything, anything to break the silence... "Actually, Twilight." She looks up at me, still with a slight blush. What with the blushing! It's like we're in a cartoon, I think, and then immediately mentally snicker. "Did you hear any of that song I was singing right before you came downstairs?" She nods, and I continue. "That's good, it's a great song. It was by this guy back on Earth named...Gordon Sumner. He went by a stage name most of the time, though.

"Anyway, this song is a perfect example of what I've been talking about this, er, morning?" I glance at the clock, it's about three-fifteen. "It's all about how a person just lost someone he loves, by her leaving or dying, either way, and the chill he feels in his life without her."

Twilight lights another candle, and puts it next to the spent one. "That sounds about right for what you've said, yeah."

"Yeah, it's a depressing song." I look at her again. She's not blushing anymore, thank god. "I think it highlights one of the most underappreciated parts of life, loss. Loss can teach one a great deal," I say, and then I realize just how relevant that is to me.

"Yeah, it's a depressing song." He looks at me again. This time, I manage to keep my composure. He continues, "I think it highlights one of the most underappreciated parts of life, loss. Loss can teach one a great deal."

Like the loss of a loved one, or a...home...

I look back up at him. He's got his chin on his hand, thinking. Like the loss of a homeworld.

A few seconds later, he chuckles, a little darkly. "Case in point, me." He falls silent again, and I get a little worried. But just before I can speak up, he suddenly looks at me, eyebrow raised. "But it wasn't all loss, was it? I lost my old life, but I gained a new one, new friends I wouldn't trade for the world...my old one, even. I could have just died, you know," he says, eyes glinting. "But in that scenario, I would have gotten to see whether there's an afterlife or not. It's all how you look at things."

I agree, but one thing he said just keeps coming back to me.

New friends I wouldn't trade for the world...my old one, even.

"Is that really how you feel?" I wonder, and then realize I said it out loud. His eyes flick over to me again. "Feel? ...about what?" he says, warily. "Did I say something?"

"You said you gained a new life, new friends you wouldn't trade for your old world. Is that really how you feel?"

His eyebrows go up. "Did I say that?" My face falls, thinking that's a rebuttal, but he hastily adds, "No, I meant to say that. It just was a little strange to recall I actually...had said it. I guess," he leans back in the chair again, "it's one of those things that you know for a while but don't really know until you say it. Yeah."

There's a long pause, before he sighs.

"Yeah, I wouldn't give you up for the world."

"I guess," I lean back and think about it, "it's one of those things that you know for a while but don't really know until you say it. Yeah."

I think back to my time here, in Equestria...in Ponyville. All the friends I've made.

The acquaintances and townsfolk, accepting of my differences and willing to always have a place for me in Ponyville.

Oh, and of course.

Pinkie Pie, her endless enthusiasm brightening my day.

Applejack, her motivation and work ethic making me proud and pushing me to do better.

Rainbow Dash, her egging me on and standing firm by me strengthening my courage.

Fluttershy, her shyness and kindness teaching me to respond to other's needs.

Rarity, her support and encouragement making me more confident.

Spike, his boundless wonder and eagerness to please making me appreciate seeing through a child's eyes.

And Twilight.

Twilight Sparkle, who's taught me more than I'd ever hope to count.

And then it hit me. Regardless of how I loved my life before all this, I'd moved on.

Finally, I sigh. "Yeah, I wouldn't give you up for the world."

I look over at Twilight, and chuckle. "There. That good enough for you?"

"...yes."

I lean back in the chair and give another sigh, one of contentment, and close my eyes. It was somewhere around three-fourty-five by now, and I was getting tired. "Twilight, I think I'm gonna go hit the hay, pardon my whoa wait alright," I said, opening my eyes to see Twilight climbing onto my lap and curling up. What? The heck...?

"Um, if you don't mind, could you sing that song again?" she asks, clearly embarrassed by what she's doing. I swear, if I'm blushing...

"No...problem, Twilight," I say, still flabbergasted. Clearing my throat a few times, I start with those iconic words...

"Mercury falling..."

Soon enough I notice Twilight's breathing becoming slow and regular. Chuckling softly to myself, I lean over between verses and blow out the candle.

"I see her face...beautiful as day..."

I think I just realized something.

Absently, I reach down to pet Twilight's mane again, a smile creeping over my face as my eyelids start to close.

Oh, and my back is gonna kill me for falling asleep in this chair, but honestly?

The pain is worth it.

Author's Note

Ketrand's a real name...and the only one that would work without making things too obvious.

hopefully sting never sees how i used one of his songs to set up a relationship in a my little pony fanfiction, however...
On that note go check out Hounds of Winter from Sting's album Mercury Rising, I can't recommend it enough.

Thanks for reading!