Dearest Agate,
Finally, I have arrived in Canterlot! What a city it is! You may hear all the stories, but to see it is something else. Our Crystal Palace may be grand, but Canterlot Castle hangs from the side of the mountain in veritable defiance of gravity! The streets are smooth, the buildings are magnificent, and I promise you, the mountain air invigorates the soul quite differently than that of our glacial plains. You would love it here. Why, I am very nearly prepared to suggest that we should move!
But I get ahead of myself. The ceremony to make Corundum a full guard is in but a week. Oh, how excited he is! Our son tries to remain regal, but I can tell he is nearly bursting at the seams with ecstasy. And if even I can tell, how much more would you be able to! It is such a shame you needed to turn back when Quartz’s illness worsened. I hope she is doing well.
I apologize for the brevity of this letter, but there is so much to see in Canterlot, I can barely sit still. Once I have calmed down some — hopefully in time for Corundum’s commission! — I shall send you another, fuller letter, that you might share my memories.
Your husband,
Jasper
Dearest Jasper,
Thankfully for Quartz, once we arrived back home and were within the aura of the Crystal Heart, her condition improved dramatically. She is very near full health again, but she misses you greatly. Please, remember all you can of Canterlot so you can regale her with tales of “foreign lands” when you return.
But perhaps do not return immediately. Things are not all well here. The mood has shifted since we departed to something quieter and gloomier. I have heard that Princess Amore has fallen ill and one of her advisors, Sombra, has taken up temporary rule in her place. Yet I cannot imagine she would approve. Guards in strange armor patrol the streets, new strict pronouncements are made each day, and I have heard rumors of ponies being dragged from their homes at night. Perhaps they are just rumors, yet the mere fact that they linger rather than being laughed away as absurdities is cause for concern.
I will try to write to you more, to give you the details, but I cannot promise letters will be sent out. I have the most sickening feeling that couriers may no longer be allowed to depart soon. Whenever I think of the Empire’s current condition, I feel unsure, as if I should leave. But I cannot bring myself to. This is home; where could I go? And so I shall do my best to weather the storm.
Do not worry too much for me; I remain unharmed and everypony in the neighborhood is watching out for each other. Keep yourself and Corundum safe, and I will keep myself and Quartz safe. I love you both.
Your wife,
Agate
Dearest Agate,
By the time your letter reached me, whispers of the Empire’s state had already reached Canterlot. Corundum had already been commissioned, so I was ready to head right back home to be with you. Why, Corundum was, too! I could see him chomping at the bit to head off and fight for his family.
As you wish, I shall stay away for now, but with great reluctance. I dearly wish I could be there with you, but knowing you have the help of the neighborhood lifts my spirits. Should the situation not improve within the year, I shall take what funds I have and take up residence in Grain Ford, a few miles south. Even if I cannot make it back home, I can at least be closer to you. Perhaps you will be able to reach me if the situation worsens.
I end this letter here, to send it off sooner. Know that Corundum’s commission went well and he is as proud as can be, if anxious for you. He and I both love you and hope to see you again soon.
Your husband,
Jasper
Dearest Agate,
It has been thirty-seven days since I lost you and our home.
I was set adrift upon hearing of the news. I remain adrift still. I cannot even begin to process it. The extent of it, the scale… It is truly unbelievable. When I first saw where the Empire had been, the world became like a dream. Surely, SURELY this couldn’t be true, surely I would soon wake up.
I have yet to wake up.
I know not what Sombra was like in his depravity. Whatever letters you sent, I never received any. But for him to do this… Why? Spite? A simple declaration that if he couldn’t have the Empire, nopony could? The curse he wrought is beyond anything even the great Starswirl could have constructed, something even the Celestial Sisters cannot undo, yet to do it for something so PETTY… I cannot imagine what life must have been like for you.
I have been informed of the nature of the spell. You and all the Empire are unharmed, merely displaced in time. This has been little comfort. You are gone from my life, from Corundum’s. He has been closed off to me; I never begrudged how he was more open to you, the way he could spend all night merely talking, but now I wonder if he knows how to communicate with me at all. We have barely said a word to each other, and those words are largely vacuous reassurances that you are of sound body.
There is one hope for me. I was not the sole crystal pony who was outside the Empire when it vanished. The Princesses have set up a system for us refugees: we can write letters to our loved ones, and when the Empire returns, they will be delivered. They could not give a timeframe, and I question the logistics, but it is the sole light in my life. I am writing this letter as practice, for I know it will never be answered, yet I must write anyway. I apologize that the first you hear is this distressing news, for it will not do to dwell on my feelings, yet my feelings are all I have at the moment. You will hear again from me soon. I haven’t an inkling of what I will write, but I promise you it will be more substantial.
Tell Quartz I love her.
Your husband,
Jasper
Agate,
It has been three moons, yet still I struggle to think of what to tell you. Someday you will return, I know it, even if it comes when I am long dead, but my heart keeps telling me you are gone. And if you are gone, writing to you like this is pointless. Yet writing to you this letter felt like an obligation, something utterly necessary. I hated not writing it. I cannot muster the passion to write it. I apologize.
Despair threatens to overtake me every waking moment. I shall not force it upon you by regaling you with tales of my sorrow. I leave this letter here. I promise you, my next one shall say something of note.
Jasper
Agate,
It has been a year since I lost you. I presumed that within that time I could get my feelings in order enough to at least put pen to paper. How foolish of me. Every morning, I wake up in a bed alone, and the void in my chest continues to gnaw at me. Were you still here, I could tell you how I feel. This letter is the only link I have to you, however tenuous. And so I must write how I feel.
I know these streets, yet they continue to feel strange. Whenever I go out for the simplest of chores, my mind is hazy and I remember little when I return. Life without you, without any of our friends, without the familiarity of home, is itself alien to me. I continue to exist, nothing more, yet I can do no more, for everything feels unreal, liable to collapse if I cease thinking about it.
~~Corundum has not spo~~ I have not spoken to Corundum in moons. It was not a conscious decision. We simply drifted apart. I suspect he misses you far more than he lets on. Sometimes, I make attempts to reach out, yet I always receive halfhearted claims of being “busy” when I receive responses at all. I am coming close to exhausting all my avenues of communication. I know he is an adult and is not obligated to me, but all I ask is that he talk to me.
For without him, I have no one. I
I am afraid I must cut this letter short, lest the words be stained beyond legibility.
Jasper
Agate,
It’s not merely you I miss. It’s everyone. Everything. Everything I ever knew is gone. You are just the center of it all. Nothing makes sense. Nothing feels right. Everything is out of joint. My whole family is gone, one way or another. I am trapped in what passes for my home, free to leave at any moment yet unable to bring myself to do so. I am a stranger in my own homeland. Ponies express sympathy for me in only the most flaccid, obligatory manner, as if they do not even bother with empathy. My emotions roil within me, yet I can rarely weep and release them. ~~I can never adjust. I ca~~n never change. I am an automaton unable to accept his own death. I will never live again. This feeling of grief will always overwhelm me and I will never accomplish anything. I know not why I am even attempting this. Reaching out in some vain hope of seeing you again? You are a mirage forever beyond my reach. I delude myself with each stroke of the quill. You are gone. ~~I doubt these letters will even re~~ach you. The Princesses gave us sweet honeyed lies to assuage our pain for moments. No one can comprehend what I have gone through. Such a wretch I am, tossed about by the cold whims of the universe. Perhaps y██████████████████
My last letter was yesterday.
Jasper
Dearest Agate,
I began writing yesterday’s letter because, even gone, you are the only one I can talk to. After all our years together, nopony understands me like you do and nopony ever will. Writing such as this is the only way I feel comfortable getting my words out. However, my emotions soon began spilling out, overtaking what I wrote and pushing the words out in a stream. Eventually they became lies wrought by thoughtlessness and animal instinct, and I had to step away once I realized what I was writing. I considered not sending the letter or striking out some of the words I feel were ill-chosen or simply rewriting it. However, in spite of my own half-hearted attempts, I decided it would be important for you to have some inkling of my state of mind, so you can understand me. I did remove the few words I fully regret, though.
I cannot state what a release this is for me. I already know that you will understand my troubles precisely, both because you are going through them and because you understand me. I do not intend to burden you with my troubles, but it is the only way I can find some relief. For that, I am sorry. I know you must have your own troubles, on the other side of your curse.
I never told you of our living situation, did I? Upon the Empire’s disappearance, the Princesses put out a call for those displaced. As I was already in Canterlot, I thankfully did not have to travel. They offered myself and Corundum (and all other crystal ponies) lodgings, a job, and some funds to help us stay on our hooves. The house I received was nothing compared to ours, but it was a roof over my head and walls around my flank. It has served me acceptably. Thankfully, I did not have to suffer the elements in addition to your loss.
I know I ought to get out into Canterlot, yet all around me is foreign in spite of my year here. I can recognize faces and name names but I cannot tell you what ideas are bubbling in their heads. The idea of going out terrifies me for no reason I can pinpoint. But I refuse to waste away in here. Fortunately, I do know somepony with which I can start: Corundum. He knows his fellow guardsponies and he knows his haunts of the city. He can show me where to start.
I will talk with Corundum. I will reconnect with him. And I will not write to you again until I have.
Your husband,
Jasper
Dearest Agate,
It has been a moon and a half since my last letter and I regret ever thinking ill of Corundum, for his turmoil is even worse than mine.
I finally managed to catch him and force the issue of his avoidance one afternoon. We had dinner that evening and a long conversation. Over its course, the truth of the matter came out: You and I were separated because I was in Canterlot, and I was in Canterlot to see him fully inducted into the Guard. He considers himself responsible for tearing us apart. Is it any wonder he avoided me? He had trouble simply looking me in the eye. The very idea to hold a grudge against him never once crossed my mind.
Oh, how he wept. He had walled up his grief behind a dam, and once it broke free, he risked drowning in it. I held him close; how could I not? Though he is a stallion, he is still our colt. He misses you just as deeply as I do and feels just as lost. Perhaps even more lost; your disappearance came at a crucial juncture in his life. I imagine he wanted to regale you with tales of his heroic deeds once he retired. How I regret never taking as much of an interest in him as I ought. Perhaps then, he would feel more comfortable confiding in me.
When he left that night, I felt as if a wall between us had just come down. We were not so distant as we had once been. Airing our grief was cathartic, dispelling clouds that hung over both of us. I cannot say where we will go from here, but I am hopeful.
Although I wish I could say more, I am yet sleepwalking through life. Yet I feel I may wake up soon.
I love you. Tell Quartz I love her.
Your husband,
Jasper
Dearest Agate,
In the two weeks since my last letter, I can already feel my relationship with Corundum improving. Not as quickly as I had hoped, but I shall take what light I can get.
Is it not strange, how our children grow when we are not looking? Part of me feels that he is still that foal who played in the mud on rainy days. Yet he talks to me of courting a fine young mare. Genuine courtship, with intent to marry. How could I have missed that? How has it never crossed my mind?
I shall not lie; sometimes we struggle. We wish to avoid causing each other hurt, but that means avoiding uncomfortable truths that we must confront. Sometimes we dance around the cloud that looms over our lives and accomplish nothing. Sometimes we let our ugly emotions lash out, yet separate with no ill feelings between us. But progress is being made, however slowly.
I am trying to become a part of Canterlot. When I am able, I force myself out, among the streets, the houses, the markets, the guilds. Every day, I am more and more able, and I am gradually piecing together an image of Canterlot, physically and emotionally. I hate to enjoy it, for you are not here to share it with me, and by the time you return, the city may have been altered beyond recognition, assuming it is still around. But I cannot help myself. I have missed out on it for well past a year and I am slowly becoming entranced by it. Should it still be around, take a visit, in the hopes that you shall be as taken with it as I am.
Corundum has said he will write his own letter. Perhaps just one, but it will be enough. I trust him to do so, but in the event that this letter reaches you and this does not, know that he loves you with all his heart and misses you dearly, as do I. Tell Quartz I love her.
Your husband,
Jasper
Dearest Agate,
Last night, I lay awake, wondering when my last letter to you would be written. I supposed that it would be whenever I found closure. But in my current state, it is as if you are dead, and what is death but a lack of closure? I am not alone in being suddenly separated from my beloved. I am not even rare. There are countless ponies within Canterlot who were never able to say goodbye, same as I.
I told myself I would stop writing when I had nothing more to write. Yet just this afternoon, I stumbled upon a market selling fruits of all kinds, and I purchased one called a “gooseberry”. It proved to be quite succulent, juicy and surprisingly sweet, and I found myself wishing you could have shared it with me. Fret not, it was mere wistfulness rather than despair. But still I wished it. Then I realized: I could tell you how it tastes. These letters are a link to you, and I see no reason why I should not use them.
Every week, I find something new here in Canterlot, sometimes dramatic and awe-inspiring, sometimes nothing more than a vaguely interesting anecdote. Each new thing, I want to share with you. So I shall. When an event of especial note happens to me, I shall let you know. Hopefully, they will provide you with both amusement and assurance that I am not wasting away, pining for what is lost. These letters may be less frequent than before, but I promise you, they will come.
Perhaps it is unhealthy. Perhaps I am clinging to you too strongly. But I know that, whenever I write and tell you what new, wonderful thing I experienced, my mind is put at ease in a way that nothing else can match. Writing to you is like talking with you about my day, and so I shall continue writing. I promise you, I shall not bore you with every inane thing that crosses my path. May you see the wonders of the world as I have, without the boredom of the slow parts.
I love you. Tell Quartz I love her.
Your husband,
Jasper
Dearest Agate,
It has been two moons since my last letter. In that time, I have taken up a trade, the better to fill my time. I was chatting with the local farrier — a non-noble lady but five years older than Corundum — and she mentioned that one of her assistants was leaving for the countryside and she was looking for a replacement. Out of the blue — I cannot say why — I said, partially but not completely in jest, that she could train me. The proposition surprised her, but after some quick thought, she said it could work and offered me an apprenticeship as her smith. I accepted.
I have been training for some time now. The work that must go into everyday objects (a sword, a horseshoe, a frying pan) is astonishing — the forge must be kept at the proper temperature, the bellows must be worked in time, the hammer cannot be swung too hard, and so on and so forth. Yet, with all this difficulty, my mind does not feel tired. I go home as my mind swims with knowledge and I feel the need to apply it. And I feel the need to share it.
Much of what I learned is mere logistics, of no interest to you. But I know what does hold that interest…
Dearest Agate,
I apologize for the gap — my last letter was well over a year ago — but I decided to learn more about Equestria, and so took it upon myself to see as much of it as I could. Yet this land of ours is so vast, so diverse, that I never even saw all of the eastern half. Listen…
Dearest Agate,
It has been but two weeks since my last letter. I realize this is a short timeframe, but this could not wait. You see, I have decided to take up an instrument in my free time…
Dearest Quartz,
I have written letters to your mother across time, and I am astonished I never thought to write to you as well. Please forgive me if they seem foalish in your later years; in my mind, your years shall always number ten, no matter how old I grow, and I cannot imagine the mare you will grow into. Nevertheless, know that I love you, from the bottom of my heart…
Dearest Agate,
My last letter was three moons ago…
Dearest Quartz,
Half a year has passed since my last letter…
Dearest Agate,
My last letter was but two weeks ago…
Dearest Quartz,
It has been two moons since my last letter…
Dearest Agate…
Dearest Quartz…
Dearest Agate…
Dearest Quartz…
Dearest Agate, Ever in my Heart,
I am not the one writing this. My mind is strong, yet my body is frail as my time draws near, and so, with reluctance, I am dictating it to Corundum. This will be the last letter of mine you read. I imagine it will be the last letter of mine, ever. May it find you well.
I have given it some thought, and I cannot imagine how these decades would have changed had you merely died. To be sure, the thought of you still having your life ahead of you has lifted my spirits, however little. But to see you alone in the strange lands of tomorrow, separated from Corundum and myself, brings me ever more grief with each breath. At times, I wondered if I escaped a swift death by drowning for a slow death adrift at sea.
But being adrift means I was able to be rescued. That rescue was the fact that you have a chance I never did. You shall come after me. And so I send you pieces of myself, letter by letter and sheet by sheet. Every moment, every joy, every hurt, every thought, I carefully package for preservation, that you may peruse it at your leisure. I may never see you again, but I can write to you.
But you cannot write to me. You can only receive, no matter how much you wish to give. With every letter, your urge to see me may be piled ever higher, and for that, I am sorry. It may be greedy, but it helped me keep a grasp on sanity in those first years. When my grief had sufficiently stilled, it was a habit. Perhaps I should have stopped, but I could not throw away my last memories of you. Please, do not feel guilty. I know your pain. It will pass. This I know, for I have seen it pass myself.
Do you remember our trip to the coast after we were married? Rain was scheduled for the first day, so we sat beneath the trees and watched the sky fall. You said we would be forever. While the waves of time continue to erode it away until it is more dream than fact, I remember it still. And I remember everything that came after, the life you never saw.
I only lived my own life. May you live two: mine and yours. I know I have never excelled with words, but a stutterer who speaks is more eloquent than a silent sage. I pray that what you have read will give you the life you ought to have lived. May you remember it as clearly as I do. May you see Corundum grow into a fine, upstanding stallion with his own family. May you taste exotic fruits only brought to Equestria after you were gone. May you feel the warm breezes and cool waves of southern lands you’ve never seen. May you smell the foods of every corner of the Sisters’ dominion. May you hear the violin that I took up yet was never able to master.
And as you live your own life, may you experience things I could never have dreamed. I regret that I cannot be with you in body; may being with you in spirit be enough.
I love you. Give my regards to Quartz, both the filly I remember her as and the mare she will become.
Eternally your husband,
Jasper
Dearest Jasper, Heart of my Mind,
I know not if this will reach you. Even a thousand years on, the afterlife remains beyond the reach of magic and science alike. But once this letter has been written, I shall burn it and kill it. If ponies can pass on, perhaps objects can, too. Even if they cannot, it may help put my mind at ease, as it did for you.
I have read every single one of your letters, many of them several times over. Your final wish was granted; I can very nearly remember your life myself. My heart aches as yours surely must have, but for the moment, it is as if you are right beside me, sharing in my pain. Quartz yet asks to see you and I know not what to say. But I know I shall think of something. I have your letters, both mine and hers; if nothing else, I can give her your words. You may claim your writing inept, but it is here and I can feel the truth in your words. Someday, she will, too.
As for Equestria itself… I struggle to describe it, for it still boggles the mind. Wondrous things are now commonplace. Machines connect the land so thoroughly that one could travel from the Empire to Canterlot within days. I have tasted foods from all corners of Equestria. I have seen devices create flawless images from life in moments. I personally witnessed an alicorn princess and a dragon vanquish Sombra himself. I have seen so many things that I lack the room to describe them all. Perhaps that will be my second letter.
I struggle to think of the words to write. I am still trying to make some sort of sense of all this. But know this: I could not be more thankful for your letters. Besides giving me a second life, they are hope. Your situation was far worse than mine, yet you were able to live. If you could live, I can, too. With this hope, I can face it knowing that light may be found anywhere, so long as you remember to look. I know that I will still grieve, that this ache will never go away, but I also know that I can handle it. This new world may be strange, but thanks to you, it is not frightening.
I love you. I shall never forget you.
Eternally your wife,
Agate
