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I had fallen asleep under the ministration of the pony. It was fascinating to watch their horn glow, see the change of their expression as they concentrated, and then their horn would glow again. There was a peculiar feeling in my back: something was definitely happening, the spine was coming back together again and the bones were returning to their correct alignment. There was no doubt but it would take a long time. There wasn't much conversation with the healer ponies, who came and went in a routine which I could never figure out. For certain they had other duties and other patients to attend to, and they were keeping up with these things.

I did have one problem, though, which was rather troublesome. Being unable to move, there were certain things a body has to do which there was absolutely no way for me to be able to do with any degree of comfort, the sort of things that one goes to a particular place assigned for such things. I didn't know how to broach it, but to my good fortune a healer, a cremello mare, noticed my discomfort, asked after it, and must have read the expression in my eyes. Her own went wide, and before an hour was out some magical contraption was set up permitting me to do what was needed to be done. She was a very handsome mare, very down-to-earth about a great many things. I was saddened that she ceased coming after a while as I enjoyed her company greatly.

True to her word, Celestia - pardon me, Princess Celestia - did not forget about me. She visited often, bringing a few sweetmeats from her society for me to eat. Her sibling, Princess Luna, came to visit once or twice. I was struck how similar they are, and yet how different. My people have a saying, "As different as night and day." People forget that night and day are, in their own ways, quite similar. They are not opposites, nor really two sides of the same coin: I think they are like pairs of muscles, agonist and antagonist, working together in their own fashions to a common purpose and common good.

Outside the cave, the days passed. Inside I lay on grasses which were changed regularly. Soft and welcoming, they had scents I had never experienced before, and I spent a fair amount of time talking about them, when someone came to whom I could talk. For many ponies who visited seemed to want to spend no more time in my presence than they could get away with.

"You mustn't be offended," Celestia said one day. "There was a lot of anger between our nations and our races, and it's not something that's easy to forget."

"I'm not offended. I'm more saddened than anything. Your people are being so very kind to me, a stranger in your midst, and a dragon, no less. It makes me sad that past history is spoiling my chances to learn more about you."

A little touch of pink coloured the princess's ears and muzzle. Like all good rulers, she loves her people and is pleased to hear them well spoken of. Still, a sparkle glimmered in her eyes. "But what about that dragon, the one who lured you here? Would you stay, at his expense?"

I feel myself blushing, now. In my dreams, his face and his body have haunted my mind. The deep blues of his form, shifting and swirling against the indigo and violet of highlights.

Celestia laughs, not unkindly. "Don't worry, dragon: you are not the first to have such emotions. And you won't be the last. Though I wonder..." As her voice trails off she gives me something of a sideways look, thoughtful.

"What is it?"

A perfectly equine whicker. "Nothing."

"Nothing is 'nothing' with you, Celestia. Spill."

Another laugh. "Very well. But you may not like to hear it. The thought occurs that the path you believe is right for you, the path you want to follow, is not the correct path for you in fact. The dragons of the north are very proud, very strong, quick to anger and motivated by fierce, passionate emotions that flow like the sea in a storm."

"While you and yours are the very examples of emotional stability, and nothing bad ever happens here."

She snorts. "Don't be pert. And don't be sarcastic: you know full well that's not the case." Her tone is sharp, as addressing a recalcitrant subject. I have seen her anger, and I know it can be potent; I know, too, that I find her truly beautiful, and particularly when she allows such intense emotions to show. She takes a few steps around in a circle and tosses her head. A stray shaft of sunlight catches her horn, which gleams. "That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?" I wish I could roll over: my side is so sore. "--- Celestia, please, could you...?"

"Oh! Yes!" Without another word her horn glows and I feel the mass of my body below my shoulders ease around through the referred pulling on my shoulders. There is a sensation of greater ease, and I give a soft groan.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Hooves clop softly on the cave floor as she walks it, up and down, regarding my long, smoothly scaled form. When she glances in my direction there is a faint blush on her cheeks, and I spy a sly look in her eyes. Then: "What did I mean... Dragons can be fickle beasts. They make promises and go back on them, they cede lands and then claim them again, they say one thing and not another... They are territorial, angry, fierce, greedy creatures... It is to your credit that you do not seem like them at all, and do your debit that you seem to seek one of them. And to court him..." She can't suppress the moue of displeasure.

"Are dragons really all that bad?" The question is out of my muzzle before I can stop it. It's almost a reflex, almost as though the honour of my genus is at stake.

There is a silence. Fire seems to flicker in her eyes. The silence continues. It is clear that she is looking inwards, and as she does I watch emotions chase one another across her face and memories run through her mind and soul.

"I'm... I'm sorry, princess." My voice is a whisper. "I didn't realise. I didn't know."

"... you couldn't." Her tail, usually perked so high, is dropped low, and there is raw grief where for a few seconds anger burned brightly.

"I'm still sorry." I reach out with a foreclaw, dig talons into the earth, and with a mighty effort I pull myself around so my forequarters are a little nearer to her. There is a craunching, grinding sound from my back, but no pain.

"Dragon! What are you doing! Stop!"

But I don't. I pull myself around until I can look her in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Celestia." Looking into her eyes. Hers are full of colour and light; mine are pure liquid black, pupil and irises and cornea all the same colour, undifferentiated. Yet sometimes, as now, I hope, the irises can be made visible in reflected light. My eyes are facing the sunlight.

"... I forgive you."

Carefully I reach out, slowly, slowly, and when she does not draw back I touch her shoulder. Warm. Soft. Strong. I am touching the co-ruler of this land, and she shies not away.

"I just can't understand... why you came. Why you have to do this."

Wind blows the grass and trees outside the cavemouth. "Why are you and Luna princesses of this realm?"

"What kind of question is that! I don't see ---"

"Please."

With a snort she subsides. Pauses. "Because we are. Because it is our duty. Because we must."

I nod. "And that's why I'm here. I don't know *why*; I just am. I dreamed of him, and here I am."

Another gust of wind is the soundtrack to her nod. "I understand, Seth." It is the first time she has attempted my name since the initial inquisition, out in the prairie. It's a troublesome combination of sounds for non-dragons, and 'Seth' is close enough, so it doesn't matter. Her voice is soft, almost sad. "Sometimes... things happen. They put us on the path. Still... the reason for beginning a path is not always the real reason for beginning, or even for continuing or staying on it.

"... Seth, I have to go."

I nod. "Celestia, before you go ---"

She turns back to me. Facing me. Her head close to mine. "You want me to move you back?"

"No, thank you: I got myself here, I'll get myself back. No, I just wanted to say..."

Now that the words are on my lips, I'm struggling. Oh heavens help me. She's giving me That Look.

"... Celestia... I think you're beautiful. Especially when you're angry. But I think you're beautiful, any time." Without consideration for consequences my head moves forwards and I kiss her cheek, ever so lightly. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops, and for a moment there is a glimpse of startled filly beneath the ever-present mask of ruler. But between that heartbeat and the next, when she vanishes, there is no anger. And in the air she leaves behind there is just the faintest hint of a giggle.