To Love and to Lose

Eleventh of the Harvest, 189th Greensfounding
My Dear Diary,

It is now to you that I relinquish my deepest thoughts, upon you that I bombard my heart's ramblings; and most importantly, through you that I order my mind so that I may best be at peace. Perhaps it is due to fear of what may yet come to pass that I turn to a mere book in an attempt to tell the story of my, if not exceptional, then perhaps exceptionally ordinary, life.

As if the name I wrote upon your cover isn't enough to satisfy whatever snoop or scholar or even lover that eventually reads this, my name is Flamehearth. I am a ~~colt~~ stallion, now, living in the village of Greenstable. Though not strictly forbidden, it is quite uncommon for a colt to have learned to read or write, especially at my age (sixteen, for the benefit of the unlikely reader that has not made my acquaintance). I simply had a great degree of time on my hoooves when I was a colt. My herdmothers didn't seem to feel it was harmful to teach me, though I do not currently believe they knew at the time how very adept at it I would become. I don't read as much as I'd like, because there is little to read in our small village. I'm quite sure I've read every book in Greenstable.

Writing, however, became a proclivity of mine. Well, a secret passion as best it could be. Learning was one matter, but practising for pleasure on a regular basis was most definitely another entirely. At first, when I was truly learning, my herdmothers didn't mind, but as I aged, they began to see it as a setback. Considering that it took me sixteen years to earn my cutie mark, I cannot disagree entirely, but I'm unsure how their alternatives expedited the process. The past year and a half, it seems, have been spent entirely on presenting me at various social occasions in the village. I imagine they were trying to advertise that I would soon be considered eligible for courtship.

According to tradition, colts are not sought for courtship. Once a colt earns his cutie mark, though, he is a stallion and very quickly finds himself in a herd with a mare... Not unlike a favourite story of mine. The handsome prince Azure, locked away in a tower, rescued by the beautiful and daring hero Thunder Star and her witty and brilliant friend, Featherblush. The trio fell in love and made a herd and lived happily until the end of their days. I read it three years ago, and four times since.

Pardon the digression. I'll admit the story sparked something unexpectedly mature in me. I hadn't yet expressed any particular interest in fillies, but after that I was rather partial to the idea of a grand romance. From that beginning, though, it has always been the notion itself that I've dreamed of, the idea of being courted and forming a loving herd and so on, rather than any inclination towards fillies for their own sake, though that certainly came in its own time. I've kept this to myself, as best I could, but I do admit I quite enjoyed being paraded around at such gatherings; Harvestfeast and other such celebratory events as well as small get-togethers with other herds. I imagine these events ~~construct~~ ignited ~~my passion for ma~~ the true flame of my heart...

I remember a filly, by now a mare, named Cloudshield. Uncommon name. I like it, I guess, it's rather exotic, the kind of name a pegasus would have. Her (and her parents) were sitting near us last Drycold's End Feast. My herdmother Ivory Wish made the introduction. Actually, Ivory and one of Cloudshield's herdmothers, Alabaster Wish, are twin sisters. Quite the oddity, or so I presume. I don't know of another pair of twins in Greenstable, though that could just as well be a result of my (thankfully former) asocial behaviour.

Perhaps because of this common root, one of familial friendship, or perhaps for a reason I'll find quite unfathomable, they seemed to fancy the idea of Cloudshield courting me in the future. After the feast, our families had private social gatherings and the like far more often. Besides herdmother Ivory, the rest of my family, even my father, seemed to like Cloudshield quite a bit.

She's not 'unappealing'. She's beautiful and capable and comes from a nice family. If I were to ~~join her herd~~ start a herd with her, I imagine my life would be quite well-ordered and without hardship. Such is nothing to complain about.

I just- I hope she'd be romantic, you know? I hope she'd put effort into courting me if she were to.

This, then, may be this disadvantage that came from reading such a romantic novel so many times. I dream so frequently about the attentions and affections of my beautiful princess that I have become too selective. A stallion is expected to be courted as his parents deem suitable, and my parents seem likely to deem Cloudshield very acceptable and her courtship equally so.

I'm likely deluding myself. Cloudshield may not even fancy me, and if she does, I would be lucky to be her stallion. She'd be a fantastic lead mare. She really could build a functional, healthy, lively herd.

Life's a funny thing. I'm not old enough to know, not really. The greater quantity of my own has yet to come. I've years ahead of me and a good herd is a way to ensure a good life for a stallion like me. My mothers cannot support me for long.

No, it is simply the way of things. Perhaps the blessing of wisdom and brilliance has, in actuality, been my undoing. It would serve my interests best if I were to simply accept my lot in life as a stallion and learn to love ~~the life I can~~ whoever I must.

It wouldn't be deceptive of me to say that I am anticipating courtship, now that I have my cutie mark. My trepidations are, in all actuality, far less pressing than the (admittedly childish) rush of excitement I've been feeling for the past hours. There's a fair degree of pride in there, as well. It wasn't particularly momentous, but waking up with a cutie mark is an experience I'll only have once.

There are now several small, orange motes of flame on my flanks. I'm quite proud of this in particular, as it matches my father's own cutie mark to near perfection, even if it isn't uncommon for similar cutie marks to form among familial lines. However, where he has five motes, I have seven, and in a notably different pattern. The significance of this may yet impress itself upon me, but for now, the familial similarity is a cause for joy. Neither my father, Hearthtrust, nor myself are quite sure what the motes of flame symbolise, either. Some families have cutie marks that are directly indicative of their paths in life, and others pass along more abstract designs. It is irrelevant, at the moment, because even having an abstract cutie mark is cause enough for my elation. I must say, the motes of fire do look a bit more fetching on me, if only because my coat is a dark grey rather than my father's off-white fur.

Such thoughts may be the result of pride, and should perhaps be disregarded before they negatively impact my relationship with my father. Nevertheless, there is enough pride inherent in being a stallion, and no longer a colt, that I do not feel compelled to claim superiority based solely on the nature of my cutie mark. Merely having one is enough of a blessing.

If the joy of earning a cutie mark and the anticipation, both cheerful and worrisome, of my impending courtship are not enough to render a day quite fulfilling, then I do not know what would do so. Perhaps time will yet unfold an even more pleasant surprise.

Until Again I Solemnly Record,

Flamehearth