“Fan Girls”

The author known to her legions of devoted fans as Bravery Luckwing sighed as she stared down at the letter laid out on the desk before her. It wasn’t the missive itself that caused her to sigh--the letter was a very nice letter, actually, full of absolutely glowing praise for her Daring-Do novels--and it also wasn’t the request to meet in person or even the rather bold invitation to take Bravery out to dinner sometime.

No, none of that is what led her to sigh so deeply and with such despair. What caused her to sigh was the letter’s signature: Your biggest fan, Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow Dash.

Somehow, all of the more significant problems in her life could be traced back to a pony named Rainbow Dash. Not that the brash young pegasus ever meant to cause any troubles, of course, and not that Bravery ever blamed Rainbow. But the pegasus was the ultimate source of Bravery’s strife, all the same.

Just seeing that signature, written in Rainbow’s unmistakably clumsy scrawl, triggered an entire cascade of memories and emotions. She remembered happy times, days spent basking in the warmth of Rainbow Dash’s company and days spent delighting in the quickness and surety that resided in Dash’s every thought, every movement, every breath. And she remembered less happy times, nights spent dreaming about that dangerous spark in Dash’s eyes or the nonchalant way she’d toss her beautiful, shaggy mane. Nights where Bravery would wake up trembling with a coldness that lived deep down inside her and wouldn’t go away no matter how much hot tea she’d drink or how many thick blankets she’d huddle under.

Stepping away from her desk, Bravery began pacing anxiously in her small bedroom. Thinking about Rainbow Dash for too long always set her on edge, but today’s letter proved especially upsetting. How many times had she wanted Rainbow Dash to say words like these to her? How many times had she’d hoped, in that silly, foolish way, for Rainbow Dash to ask her out to dinner, just the two of them?

Too many times. Far, far too many times.

Be careful what you wish for, she thought morosely, staring out her opened window at the birds who sat in the trees just outside, singing ever so cheerfully. Because you just might get it.

She closed the window before returning to her desk and rereading the letter. She couldn’t stop herself from poring over one specific paragraph in Rainbow’s letter, going over the words again and again and again:

I would love to meet you someday. I bet somepony like you, somepony who’s written all of these amazing stories, must be really brave and have had a lot of adventures of her own. I bet you’re just like Daring-Do.

She would have laughed at that last sentence in particular, at the rich irony of it all--and as a writer, she couldn’t help but appreciate irony, even now, even this--except for the fact that those words caused a peculiar ache to seep down into her very bones. Rainbow Dash thought herself in love with the pony who’d written all those Daring-Do books but, in truth, Dash was in love with Daring-Do herself.

The problem was ... Daring-Do was a fictional character. Daring-Do wasn’t real.

Well, no. No, that wasn’t quite accurate. Daring-Do was real, in her own way. There was a real-life basis for the fearless adventurer, anyways, a flesh and blood pony who’d provided Bravery with a template in creating her now-famous heroine. But that pony was one with whom Rainbow Dash was already very well acquainted. And she was a pony who most definitely was not Bravery Luckwing.

Of course, just as Daring-Do wasn’t entirely real, neither was Daring-Do’s author. She hadn’t been born with the name Bravery Luckwing, at any rate--that was the name that her publishing house had rather forcefully suggested as a pseudonym. After all, her publishers had reasoned, who would ever buy a swash-buckling adventure novel written by a pony named Fluttershy?

Nobody, that’s who. Absolutely nobody.

Stifling yet another sigh, the author sat down at her desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. She paused for a moment, attempting to compose herself and her emotions, before she took quill in mouth. Then, she carefully began drafting her reply:

Dear Rainbow Dash,
Thank you for taking the time to write to me and for sharing your praise for my novels. I always enjoy hearing from my readers. Although it is very kind of you to invite me out to dinner, I am afraid I must regretfully decline ...