To readers who finished the former Chapter 12 before 4 February 2015,

This chapter comprises the revised first part of the old Chapter 12 (now chapters 16 and 17). It is not new to the story.

“... ten trots tall! Can you believe that?!” Sweetie enthusiastically recounted some of her favorite parts from the library’s illustrated copy of Fascinating Flower Facts for Foals.

Twilight could believe it, but mostly just because she’d read most of the books in Golden Oaks library. The one in which Sweetie was currently engrossed had been one of her favorites from the foal’s literature section. Now, as she listened and shared in Sweetie's excitement, Twilight once again appreciated the filly’s thirst for knowledge, and Sweetie felt special for having the princess’s complete and undivided attention.

Smiling widely, Twilight nodded. “Isn’t nature fascinating!?” She reminded herself distinctly of Fluttershy.

“Uh-huh! Of course, Fluttershy probably already knows everything. I have a long way to go before I catch up to her.” Sweetie smiled and blushed, proud to think she had some claim on the extraordinary, talented mare.

“I imagine you could be a big help to her, if you keep on studying!” Twilight encouraged.

The little unicorn squeed happily at the thought. “I really hope so,” she admitted.

“Have you thought what you might do if your special talent is something that keeps you apart much?”

Sweetie’s lips pursed thoughtfully for several moments.

“No. Not really. ... I’m hoping I’ll get a cutie mark that lets me spend more time with her, but, if I find a special talent that means spending less time with her, well ... maybe I’ll just work extra hard to find a way to let us work together, you know? Mom and Dad have really different talents, but they take turns helping each other and seem really happy.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Twilight affirmed.

The purple unicorn continued to inquire about how Sweetie had seen her parents spend time together. Overall, it seemed theirs was a happy marriage, as far as Sweetie told it. Her parents had the occasional argument, usually about household chores, but nothing that bothered Sweetie too much. Despite the harmony they’d found together, Magnum and Garden Wishes (‘Hondo’ and ‘Cookie’ by nickname, Twilight had learned) did sometimes seem to have trouble finding time to spend together. It was little wonder they had trouble paying much attention to Sweetie on top of that. That Sweetie would think to model her parents, if her case were similar with Fluttershy, seemed only natural.

Twilight asked and listened, asked more and listened more, and Sweetie never once lacked for things to share. Twilight had grown used to spending most of their one-on-one time simply offering the filly an open and sympathetic ear. As usual, she directed their conversation, sooner or later, to Sweetie’s activities with Fluttershy.

“How have you felt about your time with Fluttershy lately?”

Sweetie’s smile became a bit bashful. “Our date the other day was ... really super special.” She blushed, thinking about their kissing, the flowers, and singing. “Well, you already know, I guess, but I had a really great time. I can hardly wait until we get to do it again.” Sweetie’s expression lit up at the thought, and she recalled, suddenly, their most recent conversation. “Did Fluttershy ask you yet about visiting me and Rarity to help out?”

Twilight nodded. “M-hmm. I told her we’d talk about it when all three of us were here, and ... also some other important things,” Twilight added vaguely.

“Oh, alright,” Sweetie acknowledged. “What kind of important things?”

“Well,” Twilight thought about what she ought to divulge, “some things that Fluttershy and I—I mean, some things that I think Fluttershy might want the chance to tell you herself, or at least be present when you hear them, and, also, some things to do with what I mentioned at the end of your date. Do you remember when I said I’d like for us to try and make a paradigm shift together in how we look at the time you and Fluttershy spend together, especially on dates?”

Sweetie recalled the statement, as well as her confusion. “I remember, but ... could you remind me, again, what exactly a pair-of-dimes means? I just remember something about changing what we think—or ... was it how we think about the time we spend together? What’s that supposed to mean, exactly?” Sweetie’s brow carried her lingering confusion.

Twilight nodded. “Good question. I appreciate when you ask if you’re ever unsure about what I mean,” Twilight mimicked her mentor, “I’ll be happy to try and clear things up now.” This seemed a good opportunity to discuss the matter one-on-one as she’d planned before addressing it as a group, thought Twilight.

“Pa-ra-digm,” she enunciated it carefully for the foal, “is just one word. It means the way somepony thinks about something. A paradigm shift is a movement, in other words, a change in the way somepony thinks. Sometimes, when something isn’t working well or, well ... feels off, the best way to overcome the challenge is to look at it a different way. Does that help make things clearer?”

Sweetie pondered for a moment, then nodded. “So what you’re saying is we should look differently at how Fluttershy and I spend time together, because ... something’s ... wrong?” Sweetie looked anxiously at Twilight.

Twilight remained calm, attempting to show Sweetie no reason to be anxious by her expression, but nodded. “I’m very glad that your date with Fluttershy was so special, Sweetie, but there are some things, I think, that felt ... wrong,” Twilight spared Sweetie any circumlocution. “Do you know what I might be talking about?” Twilight made her tone softer, trying not to guilt or further stir up the already worried filly.

Sweetie didn’t have to think long to guess exactly what Twilight meant. She nodded at the floor, troubled by the kind of “change in thought” that Twilight might mean.

The older pony was relieved she wouldn’t have to explain everything to the filly. “Alright,” Twilight acknowledged. “Before I explain more, I want you to know that—” Twilight thought how best to phrase it without sounding authoritarian “—that I really, really,” she emphasized, “care about you and Fluttershy being happy together, or,” she hesitated, “however you both ... choose to be.” Twilight felt like she was stepping through a minefield, concerned that any implied promise that she couldn’t keep might end up exploding.

Sweetie looked up abruptly, her pupils small.

“I choose to be together,” she spoke quickly, anxiously, “with Fluttershy,” she added, as though clarifying might help ensure she’d get her wish.

Twilight looked down, frowning, and shut her eyes momentarily against the pain it caused her to give Sweetie reason to fear, to bring the filly to an awareness of the reality of their situation, the possible if eventual end to the relationship she cherished. She knew that awareness was crucial, but decided to delay breaking it to her just a bit longer. You may not have that choice, she thought. Even I may not be able to give you that happy ending.

“You have my word, Sweetie Belle. ... As a friend, I’ll do everything in my power to see you and Fluttershy wind up happy.”

Sweetie swallowed. “But?” the little unicorn prompted, unable to bear the uncertainty beneath Twilight’s promise.

Twilight sighed, might have groaned under the pressure she felt if doing so wouldn’t have raised more concern on Sweetie’s part. It was easier to reason with Fluttershy, who questioned most everything about herself, than to face Sweetie Belle, whose conviction seemed to stem from a source more pure and strong than anypony else’s on the matter of being with Fluttershy. “But ... nothing. My word is my bond, and if I fail to help you, it will only be after everything I can do,” Twilight promised.

Though Twilight meant to comfort her, there it was, Sweetie recognized. Twilight thought she might fail. “What ... what might happen that could make you fail ... Princess?” Sweetie’s eyes pled, glistening.

Her emotions already near the surface from her conversation with Fluttershy, Twilight couldn’t help but reflect the look that Sweetie gave her. Twilight breathed deeply, reigning in her emotion. “That’s ... partly what I want to talk about right now and also in a little bit with Fluttershy.” Twilight paused momentarily to refocus herself and clear her voice. “Can you tell me, first of all, what you thought felt wrong during the picnic with Fluttershy?”

Sweetie thought, and several moments passed in tense silence. “I ... I guess I—we both wanted to do things that we weren’t ready for.” Their error was that much more obvious to Sweetie for the fact that Fluttershy had confessed so seriously to her near the end of their date, but, not knowing for sure whether Twilight knew, the little pony didn’t dare to bring it up, in case it could make things worse.

Twilight simply nodded. “Do you have any ideas about what might have led you both to want that?” Twilight asked.

Sweetie thought for a moment. “M—” she hesitated uncertainly “—maybe because we love each other?”

Recognizing an opportunity to teach, Twilight smiled kindly, patiently. “Do you think that real love would make you want to do something you might regret?”

Sweetie looked thoughtful. “No. ... I guess not.” Sweetie’s eyes lit with understanding until more questions arose. “But ... then,” Sweetie trailed off in thought. The kissing had really made things become intense, and they had kissed, Sweetie thought, because they loved each other. Shouldn’t that mean that kissing would only lead them to something good? But it didn’t fit. “I ... don’t understand, Twilight,” Sweetie admitted anxiously.

“It’s fine that you don’t understand,” Twilight comforted. “You’re still learning. It’s perfectly alright.” Twilight herself had needed to brush up on many of the finer points over the past week, not having had much firsthoof experience. She smiled gently at the filly, and Sweetie seemed to relax. “Do you remember, in the book I gave you ... about sex and our bodies, the part that talked about how strongly we feel when we’re aroused?”

Even after a week of talking about it with the filly and Fluttershy, the topic still felt a bit uncomfortable for the lilac librarian, at least when it came to talking with Sweetie. Twilight handled it well, but Sweetie still sensed the discomfort on some level and knew from her own experience that the topic wasn't something that adults usually discussed, at least around foals. If they did, it was always with a serious sort of tone. With Fluttershy, too, it had been serious, even warning, but there had been an electric feeling beneath it, thinking about actually doing the act itself, being wanted that way by the beautiful mare, and wanting her back.

Yes, Sweetie remembered and knew firsthoof the sense of arousal that Twilight and the book talked about. Though she hadn't understood it fully at the time, she now recognized that it was a large part of what had driven her curiosity when she risked to sneak between her fillyfriend's hind legs. It now seemed like ages ago, though it hadn't actually been that long since it happened—her first real sexual encounter. Despite the intensely negative consequences, Sweetie had thought about it often and enjoyed the tingling sensation that filled her as she did.

On the other hoof, when talking with Twilight about sex, rather than with Fluttershy, or thinking about it alone, Sweetie found her enjoyment stymied. Despite the open and relaxed manner in which the young princess managed to address it, the sex talk always felt more like a chore or unwanted class lecture at best—outright embarrassing at worst. Sweetie couldn't quite put her hoof on why, but, if she'd known better, been more experienced, or, maybe, had a more experienced teacher to explain, Sweetie might have recognized that just the act of listening and talking about sex, by default, stirred feelings in her, unwanted at the moment.

Twilight and Sweetie were neither gal pals, per se, nor prospective lovers. In no way did either wish to show the kind of vulnerability that comes with exposing one's arousal to each other, however minor, yet, here, in these awkward yet necessary sessions, they'd had to endure it to some extent. The result was that it felt a bit like Sweetie imagined talking about sex with Rarity or her mom might feel. The filly wished she could let her newfound enthusiasm for the subject show, but to do so would be uncouth or outright mortifying. Truth was, Twilight felt similarly, but possessed the maturity and ability to detach herself from arousal, more or less as necessary, to get through the troublesome talks.

Along these lines, Sweetie grimaced and squirmed a little at the question, but she nodded. “I remember it said that kissing and touching makes ponies feel ... aroused, and we talked about the differences between love a-and, um,” Sweetie grew timid for a moment, but pressed on, “and sexual feelings.”

“Right! So, you might ask, and it would be a perfectly reasonable question,” Twilight proposed, “if you love and trust each other and feel romantic feelings for each other, then why set boundaries like waiting for sex, or even ... passionate kissing, maybe?”

Sweetie looked up with interest at the older pony, willingly led and eager to know the answer. “Yeah! Why, Twilight?”

“Why do you think, Sweetie Belle?”

Sweetie looked blankly back at Twilight for a moment until her features twisted and she looked sideways, thinking back to past discussions. “I ... guess ... well, our families might be worried we went too fast.”

“Why might they think that?” Twilight pressed.

Sweetie pondered more. “Maybe because they think I'm ... too young.” Sweetie finished, a little sad and a little irritated.

“And you don’t agree with them,” Twilight pointed out, having discussed the matter with Sweetie before.

“Mm-mm.” Sweetie shook her head.

“So, why else might it be a good idea to wait?”

“Because we,” Sweetie finally recognized part of the reason, “... we have to be committed, but, Twilight, we’re ready to get married now,” Sweetie objected to her own conclusion. “It’s just ... we’re being forced to wait because, well ... we have to try and prove it’s alright for us to be together.”

Twilight’s patient expression didn’t change. Despite the filly's reasoning, Twilight could only sigh softly at how completely Sweetie seemed to missed the point. “Sweetie,” Twilight paused for a long moment, formulating what to say next. “Whether or not you feel ready—and I don’t doubt you do feel ready ... commitments, even marriages, can be broken and end up hurting ponies.” Twilight paused briefly to let the foal consider the fact. “If you were both adults, there's nothing that should stop you. I mean, it might or might not be wise; you still would both feel hurt if something came between you, but you’d eventually move past it, and others would accept it more or less,” Twilight struggled for a moment to simplify what was a complex social issue. Fortunately she'd been getting better at it lately. “But, because ponies care more about protecting foals—because there’s good reason to protect foals—if a relationship like yours and Fluttershy’s comes to light, they’ll be afraid that, if you get hurt, it would end much worse than any normal adult relationship.”

“But,” Sweetie objected, “why should we worry about breaking our commitment, if we know we want to spend the rest of our lives together?”

“Because,” Twilight answered directly, though she wished the filly’d had the life experience to come to the conclusion on her own, “even very wise, very adult ponies, who love each other very much and think they want to spend the rest of their lives together, sometimes turn out to be mistaken, but,” Sweetie looked like she was going to say something until Twilight added quickly, “beyond equine error, you and Fluttershy will probably have to face trials and challenges that normal pony relationships don’t. Even if you both want to remain fully committed, something outside of any of our control could separate you, and then, well, that would mean that you, your family, and Fluttershy would all be hurt.”

Having become fairly well read on commitment recently, Sweetie seemed to keep up with Twilight’s explanation. “I’m willing to take that chance, Twilight. If I’m hurt, I’ll get better just like anypony else,” Sweetie protested boldly.

“I believe you, truly, Sweetie Belle, but what if it meant Fluttershy were banished?”

Sweetie grew wide-eyed for a moment, then defiant. “Then I’d go with her! I’d follow her anywhere!”

Twilight saw the foal’s determination. “Do you believe Fluttershy would really want you to leave your friends and family behind like that?”

Sweetie gave a high pitched “Hmmph!” but said no more.

At this, Twilight let out half a groan. “Listen, Sweetie. I—”

Sweetie turned her head and folded her ears, scowling, annoyed by the request. She would hear Twilight, but the chance of listening was slim, given how, she felt, the mare wasn't on her side.

Seeing the defiance directed suddenly at her, Twilight couldn't help but become a little annoyed herself. Foals, not that she could claim to have a lot of experience with them, really, but this fit with what she'd read. She should have seen it coming, she thought. She stopped herself, returning her focus to how she could help.

“I'm—all I mean to say is that it's going to be hard, not impossible, Sweetie.” She sighed, a little disheartened to have let their conversation take this turn. “But ... You're a remarkable filly, and I believe, that ... if anypony can make this happen, I think you, Sweetie Belle, a crusader, can.” Twilight encouraged flatteringly. “Still, even the best of us need help, and that's exactly what I want to give both you and Fluttershy.”

Twilight looked pleadingly at the white foal. Moments passed as what she'd said sunk in, and, slowly, Sweetie's expression softened, she turned her gaze back to Twilight, and, seeing the pony's earnestness, the last of her anger vanished. Sweetie Belle looked down anxiously. “How then, Twilight?”

“I'm looking for a way as fast as I can, I promise. Until then, well ... please, hear me out,” Twilight tried again.

Believing that Twilight cared for her relationship, Sweetie was easily entreated this time. She looked up, still anxious, but ready to listen. “Waiting is going to be really hard, it seems, for you and Fluttershy, and the first step to helping it become a little bit easier is to know why waiting is important. ... You really love Fluttershy.” Twilight began, then waited for Sweetie's confirmation.

“Yes!” Sweetie was emphatic.

“You’ll do anything to make her happy, won’t you?”

“Y-yes,” but ...

“If you believed waiting could help protect you and Fluttershy and give you a better chance at being happy together, wouldn’t you want to wait?”

“... Yes.”

“Then, if you’ll agree,” Twilight emphasized the conditional, “I think it’s time we talk about what can happen if you choose not to wait.”

Sweetie didn’t particularly like where this was going, but she nodded. If she could understand things from Twilight’s perspective, then, she thought, she might at least know what to expect, either way. “I agree, but ... really? Banishment? For sex with a foal, even when they love each other?” Sweetie’s expression was pained.

Twilight frowned. “It’s happened before,” Twilight answered somberly. “But, for now, let me share a different example of how it can turn out badly.”

Sweetie waited while Twilight summoned and unfurled a scroll tied with a black ribbon.

“The case of Merryweather, female, age twenty-seven and Honeydew, female, age eight.” Twilight peeked over the scroll to see Sweetie was paying attention before continuing. “This happened about 10 years ago in Cloudsdale.”

Merryweather worked as a librarian at Cloudsdale's central library. Those who knew her, knew she liked reading, sketching, and, given the time, loved to go adventuring. She’d soar in the great wide open sky, trot among the wilds of nearby forests, explore rocky crags and inside caves, gallop through tall grassy meadows, and, even, on occasion, roam through city streets, her own or others', sometimes quiet and abandoned, sometimes full of ponies and lights and sounds. Wherever Cloudsdale was currently drifting (or, more accurately, being directed), Merryweather looked for new and exciting places to visit. Usually, the mare went alone. On occasion, a friend joined her, but only to places she already knew, ones she wanted to share. When she felt too tired, or found no place outside that suited her, or when work was slow, the pegasus tucked herself into the pages of her stories and let her imagination whisk her away to far off places.

Merryweather enjoyed the sights, sounds, smells, the occasional taste of a flower or plant she could trust, or whatever local food seemed particularly appetizing. She enjoyed the feeling of grass or leaves, pavement, dust, or cloud beneath her hooves. She could be social. Sometimes she met new ponies and tried to make friends, though it wasn't really her forte. What Merryweather enjoyed most about her outings, usually, was the solace that came from being where others didn't come often. Though she knew it couldn't always be true, she sometimes liked to think she might be the first of her kind to set hoof in the quiet wilderness places she discovered, that, if she decided to, she might disappear there and nopony would ever find her. The buzzing streets of Manehattan or other metropolises held a similar appeal to her, seeming so populated, so completely anonymous, that she became practically invisible, able to watch without being watched and wander or stand still for hours without anypony noticing or wondering who she was.

Merryweather had hopes and dreams, fears and desires, just like any other pony. She felt lonely and tired, or happy and energetic, just like any other pony. She was loved and trusted by her friends. When she was flaky, as sometimes happened, she might get on some ponies’ nerves, but she couldn’t be said to have any enemies. Most often, she was overlooked, unremarkable, except to the select few she held near, and she liked it that way. Like many ponies, she had some secrets she liked to keep. Though none could have guessed, among those secrets was an infatuation that would ultimately destroy her.

Late one afternoon, after reading aloud to the foals in Cloudsdale library, Merryweather received a request from the parents of one of her regular listeners. The little family had been friendly with her since they’d begun bringing their daughter in years ago. This week, as they chatted following the reading, the parents explained that, tired of being cooped up in Cloudsdale, they’d begun planning a second honeymoon. Having consulted their daughter about whom she preferred to be her foalsitter, Merryweather was flattered to hear that she’d been, by far, the top pick among only a few.

Glitterwing, the daughter, was only six when she and Merryweather first...

Twilight cleared her throat and looked at Sweetie again. The foal sat patiently, curious to know where the story was going, but also a little bored, until Twilight continued.

“... when they first were intimate with each other.”

Immediately Sweetie’s ears perked and her eyes widened for a second.

“Wait. I thought this was about a filly named Honeydew,” she interjected.

“We haven’t gotten to her yet. We will, though. Just wait.”

It began when Merryweather was just twenty. The young mare had no adult prospects for love, and, having been an only foal and her parents having met an unfortunate end in a weather accident, she had nopony to pressure her into any such relationship.

With Glitterwing, Merryweather not only felt the hole left by the loss of her parents filled, she absolutely thrilled at having the perfect partner, inexperienced and full of foalhood wonder, to show all the things she loved about Equestria and with whom to make more new discoveries. Every secret glade, every waterfall, every whistling majestic peak, every fragrant field of flowers was so much more enriching and wonderful because they shared them together. It so happened that Merryweather was just as interested in trying new things in bed as she was out of bed. Glitterwing joined her in everything eagerly and at every opportunity. Her parents were happy she’d found such a good friend and mentor, and not sorry to have some extra time to themselves. They were never the wiser to the sexual goings on between the two.

Eventually, Glitterwing began to mature. Many young stallions about her age took interest in her, but one in particular caught her eye. It was hard for the filly to make the choice to leave her mentor, but Merryweather insisted she follow her heart to new love, love that she knew other ponies would accept, that would lead her beloved little filly, now a budding mare, to greater happiness than she felt she’d ever be able to provide.

Only a year later, they’d lost contact with each other, and Merryweather was left, in spite of her well-wishing for Glitter’s future relationships, heartbroken. The world seemed less favorable. New adventures no longer held much appeal to her. She still went out, if only to keep from wallowing, but the joy of it was gone.

In the midst of so much emotional turmoil, Merryweather went out alone one winter day to a field not far from Vanhoover. The freshly fallen snow was beautiful. Its pure, unspoiled surface coated every small thing and reminded her of the foal she missed so dearly. She remembered the times she and Glitter used to romp together, flutter and fall into fresh patches, wave their arms, then add the shape of a horn to make snow princesses.

To try and numb the pain, Merryweather stopped in the field and laid down, letting the cold seep in through her coat, and, when that failed, she wept just a little and let the snow numb her face and catch her tears. It wouldn’t help to let herself be sad, she thought, so most of her tears she fought back despite how deeply it hurt.

It was quiet as only wintertime in such an isolated place could be. Her hoofprints and the sound of her sobbing, though subtle, attracted the attention of a young filly. Honeydew approached cautiously at first and, when she saw another pony crying, became bolder. As she approached, nothing seemed to be outwardly wrong. The hoofprints she’d followed had been even and untroubled, showing no sign of struggle or injury. Feeling sorry for the stranger, and being the type of pony who knew and appreciated silence herself, the foal said nothing, but, trusting as she was, she lay next to Merryweather and rested her chin on the pony’s foreleg.

Merryweather thought, as she felt the warmth of the filly and heard her breathing, that she must have been imagining Honeydew. Most of her life she’d spent in fantasy or otherwise running away from the cold lonely reality that was the loss of her family. Now, though she tried, she couldn’t escape the loss of her Glitterwing. Maybe, she thought, her mind had snapped, brought to life what she’d ached to have again, ever since Glitter and she had parted ways. Her mind had snapped, but not in the way she thought.

It didn’t matter that the filly didn’t look exactly like her Glitter. It didn’t matter that the filly seemed scared, protested, and struggled. What her mind had given her, however dirty it made her feel, Merryweather was just desperate enough to take, regardless. Anything seemed better than the hell she’d lived in loneliness, even if it were another hell.

Merryweather forced the filly to orgasm and then to do the same for her. Afterward, drained mentally by the heinous act, and exhausted physically by the intensity of her release, by the cold, and numbed, finally, of the heartache she’d endured for too long, Merryweather laid back down and decided that there, in the field, she would stay until she froze.

She didn’t freeze, but was found after Honeydew ran and reported what happened to her parents. Merryweather was put into a hospital for mentally ill ponies, but, after realizing what she’d done, she lost even the will to eat or drink. Despite all that the doctors could do to nourish her, she languished, and, eventually, she passed away.

Twilight choked out the last bit, and, sniffling, looked up at Sweetie to see her, horror-stricken and on the verge of tears.

“W-wh—what does ... ‘languish’ mean?”

Twilight swallowed to control her sorrow. “It means to wither, fade, or weaken,” Twilight answered.

Sweetie took a ragged breath, half-sobbing as tears suddenly fell, but stopped herself. Her brow furrowed angrily, and she sniffed. “I’d never leave Fluttershy,” Sweetie declared with all the seriousness she could manage to communicate through tone and expression.

Twilight considered the foal. “Never is a very long time,” she challenged gently.

Sweetie nodded, her expression still determined. “It is, but it’s not too long.”

“How do you know it’s not too long?” Twilight prodded.

“Because ... because I feel it. I love her for real. Glitter couldn’t have loved Merryweather like I love Fluttershy, or she’d never have left.” The filly spoke boldly, naively.

“How do you know that Glitterwing didn’t think the same thing you’re thinking right now?” Twilight pressed further.

“I ... I just know, okay?!” Sweetie had no proof but the strength of her conviction.

“Alright.” Twilight still spoke patiently and gently. “Okay. But,” Twilight paused and her expression and tone hardened, “Believing it, even knowing it, yourself, won’t be enough to convince others, no matter how much you insist, without proof.”

Sweetie looked worried, but her worry again turned quickly into anger. “I ... I don’t care what others think!” Sweetie rebelled.

“That,” Twilight's tone became sharp suddenly, “is exactly the kind of attitude that could lead Fluttershy to insist you leave her ... just like Merryweather insisted Glitter leave her.”

Sweetie looked aghast for a moment until her face scrunched up, ready to confront Twilight. “How could me caring more about Fluttershy than about anypony else make her want me to leave?!”

“Because, Sweetie Belle,” Twilight dared to speak the filly's name with some acid, “to say you don’t care about others is selfish and cruel, even if you still care about Fluttershy, and Fluttershy would never be so unkind as to let the pony she loves make such a foolish mistake!”

“What?! I—” Sweetie’s voice cracked, and she fumed, about to shout her counterargument at Princess Know-it-all, until she stopped, suddenly, as a realization struck her.

Fluttershy had made it clear the day that Sweetie confessed she’d follow her anywhere. ...

“It’s not that I’m not happy about—that you want to stay with me. It’s that, you’d lose your friends and family if we left, and, well ... it could hurt Twilight a lot if I break my promise to her. I’m sure it would hurt her, I mean. It would hurt a lot of ponies if you left their lives, all just so we could ... be happy together.”

“That’s not the whole reason I’m sad. I’m sad because ... I’d do it. I’d leave with you if you asked me to and if Twilight couldn’t help us. I’m sad because I’d betray Twilight after everything she’s done for us,” her eyes glistened, “and I’d hurt your family and all of our friends because I ... I can’t ... I don’t want to live without you for so long.”

Though the Pegasus had claimed she would betray their friends for Sweetie, she remembered her sorrow and hesitation. The thought crossed the unicorn’s mind again, as it had then, that, maybe, Fluttershy might not be able to follow through, as unfailingly kind as she was. “I don’t want to live without you,” she’d said. The thought of Fluttershy first forcing her, Sweetie, to leave, and then wandering alone, freezing, withering, dying, hit her at once like a ton of bricks. And, even if her love were willing, after all, to abandon their friends, Sweetie thought, would they, could they, ever really be happy like that? Hiding it from everypony created even more complications than simply running. Just like in the story, Fluttershy need not abscond with Sweetie to feel the same guilt. Might not the same end come, no matter which way? Her sunshine pony, ill with remorse and faded, flashed before her.

Sweetie felt her blood run chill. Her heart, already quick from arguing, skipped several beats before racing even faster, and her breathing, suddenly, became quicker, panicked. There had to be a way to stop it.

Though Sweetie's resolve had wavered about asking Fluttershy to run with her, the filly now became firm. She must never press Fluttershy to take her away. Though she'd repeatedly told her marefriend she was willing to do what she wanted and wantonly thrown the burden of preserving her virtue on Fluttershy's withers, slowly, the little unicorn was realizing how foolish she'd been and just how much rode on their ability to keep their relationship legitimate, chaste, guiltless.

“But,” Sweetie breathed heavily still, trying to catch her breath from the blow, “if we won't end up happy keeping it secret, and if we can't convince ponies that I should get married, won't that be just as bad as breaking up?”

Twilight exhaled, relieved to see the filly was beginning to fully understand. Her tone returned to normal. “It won't be as bad, no, because it's not permanent,” Twilight reminded. “You can still get married and have the relationship you want, but it might not come as soon as you want it. It will take patience and, as we've seen from your date recently, it will require extra, extra caution,” she stressed.

Sweetie cringed still at the thought of waiting, but, now that she knew the alternatives better, it suddenly seemed a much more desirable option. More than tolerable, or even acceptable, waiting, as compared to losing Fluttershy or watching her suffer, actually seemed good, for once.

Twilight waited while the filly processed. Gradually Sweetie's breathing, though still stressed, came closer to normal. “Are we clear, Sweetie?” Twilight didn't hesitate to use the stern tone one last time.

Sweetie looked penitently at Twilight before nodding. “I'm sorry I was being mule-headed.” Sweetie looked left and right, and so did Twilight, but no mules had materialized in Twilight's loft. “I—” Sweetie's voice quavered. “I was hoping that, if we couldn't get married, we'd still have a few options beside just waiting.” Sweetie's eyes welled up once more as despair settled in, and she began to cry freely. “I just—Twilight—I don't want—to be—alone.”

As she watched and listened, Twilight wondered whether maybe she'd been too hard on the foal after all. No. She decided she had been just hard enough. Still, Twilight felt sympathy for her and wished she could offer her a hug.

Why not? She'd already taken the risk earlier, after all, with Fluttershy. “Can I—Sweetie, I know it's hard. Can I give you a hug?”

To Twilight's great relief, Sweetie nodded immediately. Twilight stood and stepped over to the little unicorn, and, sharing the filly's grief, Twilight wrapped her in a warm embrace which Sweetie eagerly reciprocated. Raising two forelegs to Twilight's one, she squeezed the purple mare about the chest and buried her face in the purple pony's soft coat, letting her tears soak in.

If Twilight had many more days like this one ahead of her, she thought, she wasn't sure how long she'd wind up lasting.

Author's Note

Last revised 4 February 2015
- for style, voice, and detail
- split into 2 chapters (16 &17)

Original Note:
Hah! I blew through this chapter way faster than usual.
There'll probably be more things i need to revise than usual as well.

Reference used: http://www.child-abuse-effects.com/female-sex-offenders.html
Inspiration for the side stories taken from: Firefly by Piers Anthony

Edit (6/25/14) : Thanks to Setokaiva for proofreading.