Twilight caught up to Rarity not far from the library outside. “I just wanted to see if there's anything you need or anyway I can help.”

Rarity wasn't sure what to say, uncertain that Twilight could give her the peace of mind she wished for. She sighed. “I don't think there's much right now that can help, honestly, Twilight.” Rarity looked down and began to walk again. Twilight fell into step with her. “Well, except, of course ... I'll be requiring your continued patience while I try and understand everything. I do enjoy history and culture, but I've never quite seen it from ... such a unique perspective.” Rarity grimaced, still walking slowly without any particular destination in mind.

“Well, that much I can promise I'll be able to give you.” Twilight gave her friend a concerned smile. “Do you mind if I join you for a walk?” Twilight asked for politeness's sake, though Rarity seemed not to mind that she'd joined her thus far.

Rarity shook her head. “I don't mind, Darling, but I can't say I feel very comfortable with the two of them alone up there.” She looked sideways up at Twilight with a concerned expression that seemed more and more to be stuck permanently on her face, even with her extra spa treatments.

“They know Spike is going to be visiting them, and the privacy shield is down, but, if it helps you feel better, I'll let you have some time alone and go monitor them.” Twilight's genuine care reflected in her tone. “Really, I just want to make this easier for you any way I can. I know firsthoof it's not easy learning about such a—well ... such an unsettling topic.”

Rarity smiled gratefully and nodded. “Thank you, Twilight.” She thought for a moment, and her smile faded. “I suppose you're right. They wouldn't get up to anything, not after confessing, and not after—” the words became stuck as Rarity attempted to finish her sentence. With a sigh, she forced them out “—not after how I acted last week ...” Rarity frowned deeply, “so I guess it's fine.”

Twilight assessed the meaning behind what Rarity was telling her. “I reacted a bit the same way, at first, if it helps you feel any better. ... I mean, Sweetie isn't my sister, of course, but I was still horrified at what happened, then nearly scared out of my mind by their request to help them be together and the fact that I actually considered it.” Twilight couldn't help but smile in spite of the past, almost laugh, giddy with relief that her doubt was almost completely past her now. Knowing how Rarity felt, however, she stayed her mirth out of respect.

Rarity looked, almost unbelieving, pleadingly, at the purple princess. “How ever did you manage not to feel this way, Twilight?” Rarity practically begged for an answer.

“Well,” Twilight's smile persisted, hopeful that she'd be able to bring Rarity to the understanding she'd come to, “it wasn't easy, but I'm going to do my best to tell you how when you've had a chance to unwind and feel ready to come back to the library.”

“You're that confident?” Rarity was surprised. “Only last week you said you weren't sure it was going to be alright.”

“Last week,” Twilight explained, “I'd only just begun to explore the new research I mentioned earlier.” Twilight's grin became slightly conspiratorial. “I secretly brought back some of the more ... illuminating journals and documents, hoping that I might be able to learn more. The counter-spell for the unchecked items alarm was tricky, even for me, but I managed!” Twilight didn't mind bragging a little to her friend.

“I hadn't had much opportunity between the solstice and our last meeting to peruse them, but ...” Twilight hesitated, not wanting to ruin her plan to ease Rarity into the facts and avoid raising undue skepticism in her already doubtful friend, “I've been checking and rechecking what I've found, and, at least from a scholarly perspective, I'm convinced that what I'm reading is reliable proof that,” she paused to make sure nopony was nearby and lowered her voice to almost a whisper, “Fluttershy and Sweetie—well ... with your support, I hope we'll be able to petition Princess Luna and Princess Celestia much sooner than I anticipated, that is ... if you feel comfortable with it.”

“If you're so certain,” Rarity seemed confused, “Why would it matter whether I'm comfortable?—oh!” Rarity caught herself. “I don't mean to say that I think you don't care about my opinion or my role in Sweetie Belle's upbringing, of course. You've shown me that you do care, Dear, but, you know ... if it's right with my approval, shouldn't it be right without my approval?”

“That's exactly the right type of question to be asking,” Twilight urged, beaming. “The short answer is, things aren't so simple. Rest assured, I'll be giving you the long answer today as long as my lesson stays on track.” Twilight had come to expect the unexpected over the course of her time in Ponyville.

At this, Rarity was struck and wondered silently. What fair answer could there be to Sweetie and Fluttershy's aberrant desire for one another that would depend on Rarity's approval? They certainly didn't live in a time or culture where younger spouses were literally given away as they once were, at least, not more than symbolically. Either a pony did or didn't have the right to make her own decisions regarding sex. Rarity recognized that, as soon as Sweetie Belle had the capacity to make an informed decision, legal age or not, she might fairly win control of her love life, but that should be the case regardless of how Rarity felt, she thought. She'd have to wait and see what Twilight meant.

After a minute's quiet contemplation, another issue popped into Rarity's consciousness. “Twilight?” Rarity seemed to be more relaxed with Twilight's reassurance and the warm summer breeze, but her tone was still serious.

“Yes?” Twilight responded.

“Will you remind me we need to have a private talk when this is over, if not today, for whatever reason,” Rarity anticipated being mentally exhausted by the end of their lesson, “then soon, hopefully?”

“Alright, sure!” Twilight looked curious. “Can you say what it's about?”

Pausing for a moment in search of the right words, Rarity cleared her voice. “Spike's ... intentions ... for me.” She tacked on the last two words for clarity.

There was another pause as Twilight, this time, was taken by surprise. “Oh!” Quite unexpectedly, Twilight felt embarrassment flush her cheeks. “That ... will be ... just fine, then.”

The rest of their walk passed in mutually desirable silence.

For Sweetie Belle, stopping herself from immediately clinging to her fillyfriend on first sight at the library, staying apart physically while so close, had been painful. Without so much as a letter or word of affection from the mare she cherished over the past week, seeing her again, finally, had felt like she imagined it might be if she'd been led to an oasis in the middle of a desert, been parched, seen pure, cool water mere trots away, and been forbidden to drink.

To Sweetie's relief, and by Twilight's own design, the lesson quickly engaged the filly. While the tiny unicorn allowed herself to be distracted with advanced history and fancy words, Sweetie had successfully endured the lure of quenching her aching thirst until the moment Rarity had gone.

The librarian's lecture had kept Fluttershy distracted as well, though from a different problem altogether. Fluttershy's patience had been learned the hard way, burned into her after her slip up at the cottage. In light of the mess she'd made of her relationship with her friends, she asked herself repeatedly whether that afternoon of kisses and cuddles, of nascent romantic love, had been worth their resultant mistake on the couch. Arousal might still sway Fluttershy—she knew too well from their picnic—so the only way to be safe was to avoid anything that could lead her to want sex so badly. Affection itself was an enemy she dreaded to challenge. Rather than want to be close to Sweetie, the young pegasus feared repeated failure.

The pain of conflicting hope and despair for a relationship with Sweetie brought Fluttershy to depths of depression she'd barely anticipated. Her animals, her friends, her family, every precious thing in the world, lost meaning at her separation from the most important pony in her life. Though her faith remained, knowing what harm she'd caused to those dear to her, Fluttershy refused to be consoled. Rejecting any belief or conviction that might have given her hope for fear of being unworthy, she'd suffered until, across the gulf of her personal despair, comfort had come unbidden in the unexpected form of Pinkie Pie.

Had Angel not removed the sign and Pinkie restored her and her home to working order, it was likely Fluttershy would have lacked even the strength to present herself at Twilight's lesson that day. Despite what small but significant miracle Pinkie's visit had proven, and though she never stopped longing for her foal, their reunion was also something the pegasus had dreaded. Worse than her fear that Rarity might still not forgive her, the young mare quaked to consider that her next reunion with Sweetie Belle might only be temporary. To be torn apart a second time would mean pain again, possibly worse than before.

Upon seeing the little belle, Fluttershy's breathing quickened, her pulse raced, and chills ran up and down her spine. If she hadn't known better, the mare's bodily reaction might have led her to believe there were some dangerous creature lurking unseen, ready to pounce at her. For a fleeting moment, in reactionary self-preservation and before facts and philosophy had distracted her more thoroughly, Fluttershy felt instinct urge her to flee and a sudden and intense repulsion toward the innate weakness that had led her, so foolishly, to ever seek out love and the terrible pain it brought with it.

For a second, she thought, if only from the beginning she hadn't struggled against her hormones for love's sake, if only she'd enjoyed Sweetie's body, unconscious from the pollen of one adventitious slumber lily, and afterward kept the secret of her attraction to herself, she might never have been through the nightmare of the past week. For a second, she considered the appeal of such a choice, and then a second more, and a second more, and more, until she shook herself from the lonesome, easy fantasy.

For better or worse, knowing all too well that a life of cowardice and unbridled lust was hardly a life at all, Fluttershy had trusted in friendship to help love come to fruition. Things lately seemed to have played out for the worse, however. Forbidden fruit—the quest for godhood—came with so many harsh consequences. To wake hope meant to wake despair as well, if it existed. Mid so much turbulence, she dared not disturb their slumber long while she was alone. After Pinkie Pie's visit, the feathered mare could only numb herself once more to the renewed hope that friendship and cupcakes had brought her. At those loneliest of moments, she thought to herself, if never she'd loved, she'd never have cried, and she forced all feeling, bad or good, away, locking herself in securely against the storm.

When, at the sight of the unicorn filly, her fears were revived, the tenuous silence in her heart had been broken, and, though she managed to still her more irrational fears, without the one-on-one support of her caring pink friend, Fluttershy was left unprotected from the piercing shrill torment that had persisted mercilessly since the conclusion of last week's meeting. Even after the lesson had begun, the memory of Rarity's horror replayed for the hundredth time in the pegasus's mind, and, in her mind, once again, she heard the white mare, however gently, ask for time and for Fluttershy and Sweetie Belle to keep their distance from one another.

There was proof she was a bad pony, proof she didn't deserve love, delivered pityingly by her own friend.

“Hardly a life” had been better than what she'd endured since then. A double-life of secret indulgences had been better than the fear and pain she felt again as she tried unsuccessfully to ignore Sweetie's presence during the lecture. Until new hope had sprung from Rarity's reminder that she forgave her and her reassurance that she counted her worthy to become family some day, Fluttershy had shamefully allowed herself, again, to long for the return of the secret perversion in which she'd once reveled prior to the time she'd been so foolish to hope and strive for real, actual love.

Fluttershy knew better, that her losses, however difficult, could yield a greater return. Even if one love should fail, there was a plan for her. Despite the burdensome consequences of her choices, she might yet rise to her full potential through grace and self-sacrifice, whether that potential included marriage or some other worthwhile future yet unknown. In her current state, however, as her relationship with Sweetie remained in jeopardy, it had been beyond difficult to actually believe the things she knew, and, for a short time, the false wisdom, ease, and familiarity of fear—abandoning the risky business that was love—had seemed so much more appealing.

It was unlikely that even Twilight guessed what all went through the quiet pegasus's mind while she gulped and her eyes shifted nervously, much less Sweetie or Rarity. Neither the pegasus nor the unicorn foal had managed so much as a greeting smile toward each other, but, amid her own turmoil, each pony looked silently at the other, pitying her other half, before taking her seat as Twilight directed after her usual warm welcome. Their interaction had been unsurprising to both Rarity and Twilight, and, as expected, the stress that each sensed in the two elicited the usual look of concern from both Rarity and Twilight.

Thankfully, the first part of Twilight's lesson had flown by, and, to the couple's great relief, particularly Fluttershy's, the heaviness they'd felt left them when Rarity confronted Fluttershy's fear, accepting her as a would-be sister.

In spite of Rarity's reassurance and the reminder of Twilight's breakthrough, Fluttershy still wavered, reluctant to rejoice or hope too much. When she felt the foal cling to her afterward, the abundance of remaining fear that Fluttershy struggled to forget throughout the lecture had flooded her yet again, and, terrified of being hurt more, she hesitated to even hold the dear filly.

Unable to ignore her fear any longer, Fluttershy cringed, but, as she forced herself to push through it, suddenly, all the love and warm feeling that she'd so foolishly forgotten returned to her as well. With Sweetie's embrace and in spite of the mare's reservations, she sought, conflicted, to comfort the filly. The instant she wrapped her foreleg around the foal, warmth seeped slowly through the chill of doubt and fear until each gave way, and, at long, long last, though the stormy winds of her uncertainty howled, Fluttershy finally recalled why she'd chosen to suffer. She began, again, to realize why she must continue to the end, no matter what.

At long, long last, Sweetie drank in Fluttershy's soothing embrace, knowing that the pony she loved still loved her in spite of the drought through which her heart had wilted and scorched. Filly and mare finally had what they'd wanted, whether or not both had known it, to hold and to be held.

Tears of relief came mixed with tears of frustration for the winged pony. After all the pain and disappointment, why did it still feel so indescribably good to let herself get her hopes up? Why couldn't she have felt this way much sooner? There was still plenty to worry about, so much uncertainty, so why did she suddenly feel whole with Sweetie? Wouldn't she just have to let her go again, eventually? What kind of cruel joke was it, thought Fluttershy, outraged, that such a simple, innocent gesture gave both of them so much comfort, yet couldn't last forever?

Sweetie Belle sniffled, meanwhile, and let her own bittersweet tears soak into Fluttershy's soft coat. She trembled and pressed herself more tightly against Fluttershy as her thought mirrored that of the mare she held—that, all too soon, she'd be forced to let go again. A small, low whimper left her, afraid for the arrival of that moment, and Fluttershy's sorrow and frustration were amplified that much more for the fear she sensed in her filly. Protectively, she tightened her embrace.

Against the howling shrill fear, she whispered to the filly sweetly, “I'm here.” Softly she promised, “I'll be here as long as you need,” and the tempestuous squall of self-doubt, her foreboding recreancy, her fear, shattered and fell silent, never standing a chance against the word of a mare so deeply in love.

Trusting that she wouldn't be alone again, finally, the clinging filly took a slow, deep breath and relaxed.

Spike arrived on scene to the sight of Fluttershy and Sweetie Belle holding one another. Their stillness, the silence, and the tears they shared hushed Spike before he'd so much as announced his presence and the arrival of the other half of their snack. The little dragon couldn't help but feel like breaking the silence at all would be wholly inappropriate.

Twilight had suggested that he share the snack with the two ponies, eat with them and chat, before she'd headed out after Rarity. As he began to feel awkward, however, the baby dragon quickly decided against taking the purple princess's suggestion, set down the tray of peeled orange slices and water on a small table near the bushel of apples, and made to leave.

Through the haze of their bittersweet reunion and her fatigue, Fluttershy heard the soft clack of the tray's polished metal against wood, and, opening her tear-filled eyes, managed to make out Spike's form. “Spike,” Fluttershy called, only mildly surprised, having forgotten until she heard him that he was coming up.

The dragon paused and fidgeted.

“Won't you join us for a snack?”

Sweetie remained silent but turned her face to hide the wet streaks running down her cheeks. Neither she nor Fluttershy relinquished their hold despite the drake's presence.

“Uhh. ... Right now seems like sort of a private moment, so maybe I'll just ...”

“Spike,” Sweetie interrupted as he began to trail off, but still didn't face him. “You don't have to go,” she reassured genuinely.

Fluttershy smiled a little and nodded wetly at him, less concerned about the appearance of tears than Sweetie seemed to be. “It would be nice to have some company if you don't mind our, um ... well ... hugging and ... maybe just a little more crying,” Fluttershy added, “but if not, then, of course, I understand.”

In spite of himself, Spike paused. “Are you two ... alright?” Spike's limited experience with crying fillies had mostly been with Rarity, and she hadn't acted at all like the two calmly inviting him now to join them for a snack.

Fluttershy looked down at Sweetie Belle, distressed, and ran one hoof through her mane comfortingly. “We will be,” Fluttershy answered optimistically. “We're just ... going through some tough times.”

Spike wasn't sure he'd have wanted to ask for more detail even if it weren't supposed to be some sort of secret. Still, seeing his friends miserable wasn't something he could just tolerate. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

Fluttershy shook her head, continuing to look down at Sweetie. “Nothing, unless you don't mind joining us. We don't usually get company, other than Twilight. ... Oh,” her focus shifted momentarily to the floor as she caught herself, then back to Sweetie, “not that Twilight isn't good company, just that, almost nopony else knows about us, of course,” Fluttershy smiled again at Spike, “so a new friendly face is always welcome. I'm just sorry you had to see us like this.”

Spike thought for a moment before taking a couple orange slices and an empty seat.

“I kinda do mind the hugging, and the crying is a little ... odd ... n-not that there's anything wrong with it," Spike added quickly, not wanting to make matters worse. “In any case, I'd never leave friends hanging, and, if seeing two, uh ... friends ... hugging is the worst I have to deal with to help, then—you know—no problem.” Spike relaxed and popped an orange slice into his mouth.

Sweetie turned her head to face Spike and released Fluttershy from one of her forelegs to wipe her eyes and cheeks dry. “Thanks, Spike,” she smiled, touched that the dragon's friendship won out over his coltish discomfort with their embrace.

Spike finished chewing and swallowed before answering. “Any time.”

Sweetie's attention was drawn to the tray of orange slices several paces away. She hadn't eaten well, herself, but Sweetie's primary concern was for Fluttershy's nourishment. Her fillyfriend felt less plush than usual. There'd be no more languishing on Sweetie's watch. Still, the desire for sustenance stood no chance against their mutual need to hold each other. Fluttershy noticed where Sweetie's gaze fell, and her stomach rumbled close to Sweetie's ear.

Fluttershy blushed at the noise. “Are you hungry too?” Fluttershy asked, looking down again at the filly and opening her wings.

Before Fluttershy could carry them both to the fruit, Sweetie stopped her. “Wait. Let me try something.” Sweetie wore a determined expression as she looked at the tray of oranges. Her pupils contracted, her lips pursed tightly, her body tensed, and, with effort, her horn began to spark. Her target, the nearest orange slice, glowed faintly and shifted slightly. Several seconds passed, Sweetie Belle tensed more, and she focused her willpower to the best of her ability while Spike and Fluttershy watched.

Exhaling loudly, Sweetie finally gave up. “They make it look so easy!” Sweetie complained, referring to her sister and Twilight.

“You'll get there some day. I'm sure!” Fluttershy encouraged with a wide smile.

Sweetie looked up, blushing at the mare, a little embarrassed but unable to help smiling at Fluttershy's adoration.

“Do you want to try again?” Fluttershy asked.

Sweetie shook her head. “Not right now.”

The filly closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against Fluttershy as her mare cradled her and they lifted off, landing softly next to the apples and orange slices. A thought occurred to Sweetie Belle, and she perked.

“I'll have to ask Twilight how she learned.” Sweetie reached for an orange slice.

“Has Rarity given you any advice?” Fluttershy inquired.

“Rarity just says to focus and visualize ... and that practice makes perfect,” Sweetie answered with a half-sigh before eating the slice she'd taken.

Fluttershy nodded and extended a dexterous wing to take an apple. “I'm sure Twilight would love to help you learn more.” Fluttershy turned her head to take a juicy bite, careful not to let the fruit spray or drip while she continued to hold Sweetie.

Spike watched the two curiously. The fact that they didn't let go of each other despite talking and eating struck him as more than just the usual amount of odd he always expected from his friends. “It's like you two are afraid you'll never get to hug each other again,” Spike commented innocently, perplexed, before stuffing another orange slice in his mouth.

The pair looked at Spike, each a little surprised, then at each other. Distressed tears refilled their eyes, and each re-tightened her grip on the other. Sweetie turned her face away once more and pressed her cheek against Fluttershy again.

Spike nearly choked in surprise. The dragon coughed and sputtered a moment, then swallowed before looking at the pair, both shocked and worried. “What's the matter? Is one of you leaving—dying?!” Spike looked frantic.

Fluttershy swallowed. “No, Spike,” the mare answered calmly. “It's not—it's ... complicated,” she added hesitantly, without explanation.

“Well, why else wouldn't you get to be together?” Spike's concern persisted. Whether due to his shock, their openness with him, or the way they clung to each other, even if he wouldn't say it outright, Spike was finally past pretending he didn't know about them as a couple.

Fluttershy stroked Sweetie's mane again gently while the filly trembled softly and wept silently against her. The pegasus sighed and frowned deeply, eyes sparkling, but managed to be strong herself. “If Sweetie agrees, maybe Twilight can tell you later. It's not something we can say without certain ... consequences. Until then ... thank you for worrying about us, Spike. You're a good friend. Please don't trouble yourself over us, for now.” Fluttershy's eyes conveyed both gratitude and sympathy.

Spike wouldn't have it. His arms crossed and, looking at the floor then back up at Fluttershy, his expression was somewhere between pouting and indignant. “Of course I'm going to trouble myself. You're my friends!” the dragon insisted.

Fluttershy's ears folded. “Oh, um ... I didn't mean to say you shouldn't, well ... do what you think is right.” The yellow pony's timidness didn't last long, and, in spite of it, she was touched by the dragon's noble sentiment. Fluttershy smiled at him. “Sorry, and ... thank you again, Spike.” She smiled through her sorrow at him before frowning down again at the unicorn foal.

Sweetie remained silent, letting herself be held, protected, and soothed by the older pony.

Spike looked on, wondering still. “It's my honor,” he said simply.

Spike twiddled his claws, thinking of how he might help in spite of Fluttershy's response. As his stomach rumbled, he looked at the fruit, and an idea struck him. “Hey, Sweetie Belle.” The foal didn't look at him, but her ears twitched. “Wanna see how I move food from far away?”

The filly sniffled, wiped her eyes once more, and, with an eyebrow cocked, looked his way.

Spike grinned coltishly before snapping his tongue out across the gap between himself and the bushel of apples and, in a split second, wrapped his tongue around one on top and snapped it back into his mouth with a satisfying crunch.

Sweetie Belle and Fluttershy stared silently for a moment, caught by surprise, as Spike grinned and chewed. Fluttershy let out a stifled laugh before catching herself. A beat later, the two giggled openly together. As giggling turned into hearty peals of laughter, Spike joined them. Fluttershy's shaking bounced Sweetie a little like a carnival ride while, to Fluttershy, Sweetie's convulsive body triggered memories of similarly sized animals against her, and an involuntary response caused her to blush happily and her body temperature to rise.

Though it hadn't taken much to set them off, their mirth lasted for more than a minute and provided a much-needed break from the tension of the past week. To the relief of all three, each felt themselves more relaxed when the laughter finally ebbed and ceased.

Suddenly feeling Fluttershy's increased warmth, Sweetie looked curiously up at her fillyfriend to see the subtle color on her cheeks beneath her sunny coat, and Sweetie, too, blushed a little and nuzzled her front affectionately. Despite wanting to kiss her, she'd have dared no more, whether or not Spike were there to witness. Spike himself blushed to see the intimate way they looked at each other and Sweetie's tender gesture, but he didn't complain at the mushiness; he couldn't complain at seeing them happy, finally.

There was a short, silent pause, peaceful and content, between the three, and Spike let out a satisfied sigh, glad his attempt to lighten the mood had panned out. “Well, I think I'm gonna go downstairs and finish tidying up.” Spike stood and turned to the stairs.

Sweetie opened her mouth to object as she had before but stopped herself. “Spike,” Sweetie called to him as he reached the loft exit, and he turned back to face them. “Thanks.” Sweetie smiled broadly, and so did Fluttershy.

“Don't mention it.” With a casual wave of his small claws, Spike left them alone.

Fluttershy looked down at Sweetie, and, feeling the mare's subtle shift, Sweetie looked up in return at her. The mare's smile became sympathetic, and she lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “Are you alright, Love?”

Sweetie's eyes sparkled at her special somepony, and she nodded, still smiling. “I am, now that we're together again, but I'll be better if you finish your snack.” Fluttershy looked uncomprehending down at the filly. “You feel thinner.” Sweetie frowned, explaining. Her eyes, still wet, met Fluttershy's and, for reasons unknown to the pegasus, her bottom lip trembled. “Please, don't wither,” Sweetie added.

The filly squeezed the mare and pressed herself against her again, craving closeness, and Fluttershy reciprocated and stroked her mane again. Obediently, bringing the apple to her lips with her wing, Fluttershy ate.

Author's Note

Last revised 16 February 2015
- for style, voice, and detail

Original Note:
Hah! You all probably expected the story to go somewhere. Joke's on you.
Maybe next chapter.

Thanks to Setokaiva for advance proofreading and suggestions.

Also, in honor of the day, (I didn't plan it)...