It was the invention of the Drive that changed everything. I still don’t understand it; it seems like magic to me, but I was assured that not a drop of enchantment was used in its construction. But if I’ve learned one thing in centuries of trying to replicate it, I know they spoke true.

It has been two thousand years since you asked me to lead your little ponies into the stars, and set up a home away from home so that our people would no longer be confined to a single world. I was eager, at first; eager for the challenge, eager at the idea of setting up a new society, with new ideals, where those blessed with wings and horns alike would just be ordinary members of society. A society where our every action would not define the fate of millions.

Maybe that’s the real reason why I left. I just wanted to be an ordinary pony again, not in charge of everyone, not ruling over everyone. And maybe, just maybe, once we knew society could survive without a Princess ruling over it, I could return home and spend more time with you.

What a fool I was.

The first sign of trouble was the failure of the Drive; had it happened earlier, we would have been stranded in the void. Luckily, we were close enough that we could limp to the planet in just a few years. The engineers assured me that we could repair it once we had built up our industrial base.

In retrospect, it never really worked. Half the ponies deferred to me, while the other half resented the idea that, even free of your rule, in a society which was supposed to be different, a Princess was still in charge.

It all fell apart when my brother died. He had lived a long, full life, but my sister-in-law began to draw into herself. I thought I was doing the right thing, stepping away and letting the ponies rule themselves while I tended to her, but I had never properly groomed any of them to rule. Without guidance – without us – they drifted away from each other. They left in small groups, wanting to be free to live their own lives without interference.

We wanted to go home, but it was too late. Passing on knowledge of how to rebuild the Drive had never been a priority – no one but us had ever expected to see Equus again, so what did it matter to them? But it wasn’t just the drive – ponies forgot everything. History. Civilization. Technology. Pluralism. The ideals of democracy they had come to pursue. It just didn’t matter to them. They divided themselves amongst the tribes, just like our own ancestors once did, feuding and dividing the land while I tried in vain to fix our ship and return home.

But you know me – it is hard stand by while other ponies are suffering. So eventually, after centuries of strife and bitter warfare, I stepped forward once more, offering my wisdom and guidance to their new leaders.

Within a decade, they wanted to make me their queen.

The experiment failed, and I don’t even know why. Must there always be ponies who tell others what to do? If so, it is a bitter pill to swallow.

I know what it is like to be you, now. To be perfect in the eyes of your little ponies, to be the center of their world, to move planet and plane to ensure everything is just so. You’re responsible for everything, because you’re the only one who can be responsible.

I have a student now. She’s the only one I can really depend on, and even she sees me as perfect. Still, she understands responsibility.

Sometimes, I’m tempted to show her the ship, to show her the Drive, to see if she can figure it out and rebuild it. But I’m not sure if I trust myself to do so.

I miss you so much. Sometimes, I want nothing more than to return home and take shelter under your wing once more, to talk to you again, to give you all the letters I have written over the years and to see your smile once more. But I can’t.

What would happen to my little ponies if I abandoned them?

What would my faithful student think if I told her how much I miss you?