Mis-Shapes

by Grimm

Rating: mature
Tags: Night Light, Twilight Sparkle, Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Princess Cadance, Romance, Shining Armor, Sex, Twilight Velvet
Length: 68655

The Sparkle family are going on vacation. While family holidays are often difficult, Twilight knows this one is going to be particularly bad. Mostly because her father doesn't.

The Sparkle family are going on vacation, and as far as Twilight is concerned this is terrible news. She still hasn’t forgotten the events of two months ago – still hasn't forgotten the blindfolds, or the welcomed touch against her flanks, his warm breath running over her neck...

Her father probably hasn’t either.
____________________________________

Thanks to Idylia for editing.

Published 2014-08-23 01:30:04 UTC
Last updated 2018-12-21 18:01:49 UTC

1. Something Changed

“Twilight, are you feeling alright?”

Damn it. Twilight put on her best smile. “Fine, why do you ask?”

“Because you’re very easy to read,” said Celestia, looking straight into Twilight’s eyes and giving a warm smile of her own. “But if you’d rather not tell me, I understand.”

“It’s not like that...” Twilight began, before trailing off and looking out over the gardens.

It was a beautiful day. Insects buzzed lazily past the balcony, warming their wings in the late-morning sun while birds flitted between trees, singing and calling to one another. Celestia often invited her out to this balcony when Twilight was visiting, to drink tea and discuss her lessons in friendship. Usually it would be the high-point of the unicorn’s day, but this time all Twilight wanted was to curl up into a little ball and be sick.

“Is it something your friends can help you with?” Celestia asked. “Don’t be afraid to talk to them – helping someone in their time of need is the mark of true friendship.”

“I know,” said Twilight. “But I’m fine, really.”

“Well then, forget I said anything. Let’s just enjoy the sunshine.”

The silence that followed was thick with things left unsaid, though Celestia seemed entirely unperturbed. She was so calm, sipping her tea as if nothing in the world could ever be wrong. Twilight’s tea tasted like dirt in her mouth.

“I granted your brother the leave he requested,” said the princess, finally. “He can’t wait to see you.”

Twilight sat up a little straighter. “Shining’s coming?”

“Of course. I couldn’t have stopped him if I tried, and I could hardly deny it after all he’s done for the Crystal Empire. It’ll be good for him and Cadance to take some time off, and I know they’re looking forward to spending it back with you.”

Cadance too? Why not just invite the entire kingdom while they were at it? “Great,” she said.

Twilight’s lack of enthusiasm must have showed because Celestia paused her teacup halfway to her lips. The princess hesitated, and then set it back down with a sigh. “I’m afraid I have to cut our meeting short, Twilight; the Saddle Arabian ambassadors are due shortly, and I really should prepare.”

The princess stood, and Twilight joined her a little too quickly.

“Promise me something, though,” said Celestia. “If your vacation doesn’t resolve whatever’s worrying you, you’ll talk to your friends about it.”

Twilight nodded. “I promise,” she lied.

“Wonderful. Then I’ll see you when you return. And one last thing…”

The unicorn froze in the doorway she’d rapidly retreated to. “Yes, princess?”

Celestia beamed. “Remember to enjoy yourself! Otherwise, what’s the point?”

What indeed?

***

The letter was still on her bed. To be expected, of course – it wasn’t as though it would just vanish from where she’d left it – but Twilight had still harboured a secret wish that it would be gone when she opened the double doors leading to her extravagant castle lodgings. That it would never have existed at all.

But that would be too easy.

Her suitcases were all packed and ready; the one night stop in Canterlot was just the calm before the storm. Twilight had hoped Celestia would be able to raise her spirits, if only slightly, but even that had been too much to ask.

For what felt like the fiftieth time, Twilight picked up the crumpled parchment and began to read.

Dear Twilight,

Your father and I are so glad you can make it! It’s been far too long since we had the family all together, and Shiny thinks he can persuade the Princess to give him some time off too. I hope so – he deserves it.

If I’m honest, I’m far more excited about seeing the both of you than this vacation, but your father won’t stop going on about the place. If he tries to tell me about its history one more time, I swear to Celestia… Still, it has to be nice; it’s not every day you get to stay in a country manor! One of the perks of having royalty in the family, I suppose (I’m still not used to Shiny being a PRINCE!).

See you soon, honey. Night Light sends his love!

Hugs and kisses,
Mom xx

And for what felt like the fiftieth time, Twilight crumpled it back into a ball before thinking better of it and smoothing it out again.

It wasn’t as though she could have said no. That would raise questions – the last thing Twilight wanted – and her parents would no doubt have just rescheduled anyway. And so she’d accepted the invite, ensuring her reply sounded suitably enthusiastic.

Keeping up the charade for three weeks was going to be another matter entirely.

This is important, she reminded herself. I can’t just hide forever. No matter how much I want to. Twilight gave an inward groan as she collapsed onto the bed. Hiding felt like the perfect solution right now, to just vanish in the middle of the night and never come back. But, even with this hanging over her like a guillotine, running was nothing but idle fantasy. What, was she going to throw her life away that easily? Of course not, not when she could just pretend everything was alright instead.

And, she mused, maybe it would be. Wasn’t that part of the reason she’d agreed? Because maybe the only way she’d get past this was to face it head on? Either way, she couldn’t shut herself off from her family with no explanation. This holiday was important, and not just for her.

All this and more swarmed through Twilight’s head as she lay there, both longing for and dreading the time when sleep would be acceptable. She made a few feeble attempts at leafing through various books, but ultimately gave up in favour of staring blankly at the ceiling or pacing aimlessly back and forth. Neither quelled her thoughts.

The room slowly darkened, and finally Twilight could slip between the welcoming sheets, allowing the bed to envelop her completely. Sleep didn’t come. Instead, Twilight spent most of the night staring out the enormous windows, watching stars move across Luna’s black sky.

***

“Twily!” Shining Armor waved excitedly as the train doors opened. He was quick to leap out and pull her in for a full-bodied hug. “How’s it going, little sis?”

“You should have stopped calling me that years ago,” said Twilight, pouting for a moment before returning his grin.

“I’ll stop saying it when it stops annoying you. Come on, we don’t want the train to leave without us.”

“Like they’d leave without Prince Shining Armor,” Twilight replied, giving her brother a good-natured nudge in his side.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. But for this trip Cadance and I are officially civilians. And good thing, too. You have no idea how boring ruling is. Do you know how many fun things aren’t ‘appropriate’ for a prince? I’ll give you a hint – it’s most of them.”

Twilight giggled as Shining led her towards the back of the train, where Cadance’s private carriage had been attached. It was anything but subtle, adorned on the outside with enormous crystals and flanked by two royal guards at the door.

“As civilians, huh?” asked Twilight.

“Ah, don’t worry about them,” said Shining. “They stay with the train. After we get there, they’re gone. And come on, who’d pass up the private carriage?”

“I see.” Twilight flicked her mane, tilting her head back with a faux-haughtiness. “Too good for the common folk now, are we?”

Shining laughed. “Naturally. I could hardly bear to walk on the same ground as the peasants.”

The guards saluted as they passed, impassive and stoic (though Twilight swore she caught one of them suppress a snicker as they entered the train. Her brother’s mocking of his own position was obviously nothing new).

The inside was every bit as luxurious as the outside suggested. Twilight’s hooves sank into thick carpet, and with only a few seats there was plenty of room for other ‘essentials’. These included an enormous four-poster bed and a buffet table that took up a whole side of the carriage, covered in every and any delicacy one could ever care to eat. And by the window smiling warmly at Twilight sat Princess Mi Amore Cadenza herself, though to the unicorn she would only ever be Cadance – the babysitter who let her stay up much later than she was supposed to and always fed her not one but two scoops of ice-cream.

“Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake,” said the princess, covering her eyes at the appropriate line.

“Clap your hooves and do a little shake,” replied Twilight, giving her rump a small wiggle. The old greeting was still able to cheer her up, even if the motions had become less pronounced nowadays. Especially when it made Shining cringe as much as it did.

“Every time…” he grumbled, sending both Twilight and Cadance into a fit of giggles.

“Aww, is somepony jealous?” asked Cadance.

Shining didn’t even dignify her jibe with a response, dropping into the seat beside his wife with an exaggerated sigh. Twilight sat herself down across from them, and as soon as the train left the station with an ear-splitting whistle the two mares began chatting incessantly about everything under the sun, pointedly ignoring the excessive eye-rolling from Shining Armor’s direction.

“If you think he’s bad now, you should see him at the Empire,” said Cadance. “Poor thing doesn’t know what to do with himself without at least three platoons of guards to boss around.”

“Make sandwiches, apparently,” replied Twilight. Her brother had seized the opportunity to create nothing short of a monolithic pillar of bread and every sandwich filling under the sun. “You know Mom will insist on making something to eat as soon as we get there, right? You’re gonna be sick.”

Shining frowned and took a voracious bite from the monumental tower he’d constructed. “No regrets, Twilight. And last I checked, commanding the Royal Guard required a little more than ‘bossing ponies around.’”

“You’re far too easy to wind up, Shiny.” Cadance’s eyes flashed dangerously. “It’s a good thing it never stops being fun.”

***

The train wound its way between tall and tortured mountain ranges, carrying them deep into the heart of Equestria. It was a long and tiresome journey, and as the conversation lulled Twilight’s eyelids began to droop, her restless night taking its toll. It wasn’t long before she sank down in her seat and began to snore quietly.

The sun was low enough now to shine through the carriage windows. A blue glow surrounded the blinds as Shining pulled them down. Lanterns sparked to life after another burst of his magic and submerged the cabin in a dim orange light.

Twilight was next, the same blue wrapping around her as her brother carefully lifted her to the bed and laid her down as gently as he could. She stirred a little, giving a quiet sigh as her legs flexed slightly, but she didn’t appear to wake.

“It’s so cute to see you look after her like that,” said Cadance, her voice a hushed whisper so as not to disturb the sleeping unicorn.

Shining rejoined her, hooking a hoof around his wife’s shoulders as she snuggled against him. “She’s my little sister; of course I’m going to. And…” Shining cast a look back at the motionless form on the bed. “To be honest, Mom’s been kinda worried about her. I wasn’t entirely sure she’d come.”

“Huh, why wouldn’t she?”

“She and Mom used to send letters to each other once a week; y’know, catching up and stuff, but a few weeks ago Twilight just stopped sending them. When Mom asked what was wrong Twily sent back a really short letter that pretty much said ‘I’m fine’ and nothing else. I wanted to go see her myself, but I couldn’t get any time off until now.”

“Really? She seemed fine to me,” said Cadance.

“Yeah, I thought so too. Maybe it’s nothing, but I’m gonna keep an eye on her while we’re all together. Mom probably won’t mention it, so hopefully Twily’ll be okay.”

“Aww, I wish I had a big brother to look after me as much as you do.”

Shining nuzzled against her neck. “Don’t worry, I can look out for you as well.”

Cadance giggled, and their position on the seats slowly grew more horizontal. Twilight – now wide awake and brooding on their conversation – stared resolutely at the carriage wall, trying to ignore the sounds coming from their direction. They would go no further than passionate kissing with her there, even thinking she was asleep, but that was still too much to listen to.

***

Inevitability is a terrible thing, and Twilight had never felt it worse than when the train began to slow. A glance out the window only served to make her stomach sink even further, the station ahead in stark contrast to its starry backdrop, surrounded by a dark and foreboding forest.

“Ugh, I can’t wait to get off,” said Shining, tilting his head to the point where his neck clicked and earning a disgusted look from Cadance for his efforts. “Long journeys are awful.”

Twilight had abandoned her feigned sleep a couple of hours ago, and the three of them had spent the last leg of the trip playing ‘Cheat’ – a game Cadance was startlingly good at, defeating the two siblings all but once. Twilight was still proud of her single victory in the face of such terrifying opposition, while Shining had sworn off the game forever.

“How far is the house from our stop?” Twilight asked.

“Well, the station’s actually privately owned,” said Cadance. “From what I hear, Celestia practically demanded it be constructed at the end of the grounds when they built the estate, so we’re there as soon as we arrive.”

“Oh.” Twilight winced slightly. “Good.”

The idea of Celestia demanding anything was a strange concept, but it was well-known that the Princesses used to rule with more of an iron hoof than they did now. They’d had to; Equestria might be in a golden-age of peace, but it hadn’t always been that way. Respect had to be earned.

With a loud screech the train reached a halt, carriage doors swinging open onto the lonely platform. Surrounded by tall evergreens, the station felt particularly out of place – a solitary construction in the middle of an otherwise untouched forest. Little more than a slab of concrete with a bench, it was hardly the warmest of welcomes. Not to mention that the manor was nowhere in sight, thick trees hiding any hint except for a snaking track that meandered off into the forest’s depths. When it came to the privacy of their royal getaway, the princesses had apparently spared no expense. Either that, or this was entirely the wrong stop. Twilight found herself wishing for the latter.

Again the flanking guards stood motionless as they passed – at least until Shining dismissed them and gave them each a small bag of bits as a gesture of goodwill. Immediately their stony veneers vanished, replaced by cheery conversation as they bid their ex-captain farewell. It wasn’t hard to see why her brother was held in such high regard. Even in his lofty position he treated all his comrades as friends, calling for them to have a drink on him once they got back as they entered the carriage.

And then the train was gone, guards with it, and it was just the three of them.

“I’m surprised you managed to persuade my aunt to let us stay without an escort,” said Cadance as she led them off the platform and down the gravel path that twisted between the trees. Her horn shone brightly in the cold gloom, sending long shadows trailing behind them. “She’s usually really uptight about it.”

“Who says you don’t have one?” replied Shining. “An ex-captain of the royal guard and Celestia’s own protégé aren’t ponies you want to get on the wrong side of.” He shot Twilight a wink, and she smiled weakly back.

“I suppose.” Cadance sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s great having no-one breathing down my neck, I’m just not used to it.”

“You’ve got three whole weeks to enjoy it.”

“And enjoy it I shall.” Cadance turned to the unicorn lagging behind them. “Come on Twilight, we’re almost there.”

Mumbling an apology, Twilight broke into a brief trot to catch up to them. Back at their side, the trio rounded a final bend, and then the trees suddenly fell away, the moon above lighting what lay ahead.

“Oh wow...” Despite everything, Twilight couldn’t stop the words from leaving her. In her sullen state she’d done very little research into where they were actually staying – a rare circumstance for her – and she was entirely unprepared for the view before her now. It was little short of breathtaking.

What had been a dirt track grew almost immediately into an enormous driveway, so wide that six chariots could have traversed it side by side with room to spare. Meticulously kept lawns met on each side, and on the left Twilight could just make out the twinkle of water reflecting moonlight – a small lake. And all of this led up to the house, though now the word no longer did it justice.

Twilight had seen a fair few amazing buildings in her time, but most impressive ones tended to be either castles or other structures purpose-built to be imposing. This was a home, somewhere clearly intended to be lived in and enjoyed, and yet it held the air of grandeur that usually only those castles could match. Constructed almost entirely of some light-coloured brick, the manor was four storeys tall, its grey tiled roof ornately decorated along the edge with flourishing spirals and other delicate twists of stone. A large balcony extended out the middle of the second floor, forming a sort of makeshift porch over the front door. It was held up by two pillars, each carved in the shape of rearing ponies wearing beautiful, ancient armour. The house’s windows were large and numerous, yellow lights burning merrily behind them, and they seemed to beckon the group onwards.

Cadance grinned at Shining and Twilight, both staring at the building with their mouths open, each a perfect mirror of the other. “Are you two finished? It’s freezing out here.”

“Wha- huh?” Shining Armor shook his head, snapping back to reality. “Uh, I mean…” He turned to Twilight. “I should totally have become a prince sooner, huh?”

Dodging the hoof-swipe from his dearest wife, Shining led the way up the path, towards the house and everything Twilight was dreading.

***

The front door swung open easily at a touch, despite its size. There must have been some sort of magic on its hinges.

“Mom? Dad? We’re here!” Shining’s voice echoed through the front hall. As expected, the inside was just as impressive as the exterior; dark wood flooring spanned to a huge twin staircase that led to the upper storeys, and overly-complex chandeliers hung from the ceiling (every building like this had to have chandeliers; Twilight was fairly sure it was mandated by law).

One of the many side doors slammed open, and out of it rushed a bedraggled-looking Twilight Velvet, who spared no time in dashing over to them and pulling both her children into a crushing embrace.

“M-mom… Ech… Can’t breathe…” Shining flailed weakly against his mother’s grasp, earning a stifled laugh from Cadance, but his efforts were to no avail. Twilight simply resigned herself to her fate, stealing gasps of air whenever she could. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of squeezing and peppered kisses, Velvet released the siblings from her vice-like grip.

“I’m pretty sure there’s an age limit on bone-breaking hugs,” said Shining, brushing the ruffles out of his fur.

“Never,” Velvet replied. She turned to the Princess. “And of course it’s lovely to see you too, Cadance.”

“Where’s Dad?” Shining’s question sent another stab through Twilight’s chest.

“Oh! Um…” Velvet glanced back at the room she’d burst all too quickly from. “He’s just… He’ll be with us in a minute. In the meantime, let’s get you all something to eat. You must be hungry, right?”

“Oh, yeah!” Twilight chimed in before Shining could speak, giving her brother a knowing nudge. “We’re starving, right Shiny?”

“...ravenous.” Shining’s answer could have been more convincing, particularly if he’d chosen not to respond through gritted teeth while glaring at his sister. If Velvet noticed she didn't show it, cheerily leading the three of them through to the dining room.

Shining bent down to whisper in Twilight’s ear as they walked. “I’m so gonna get you back for this.”

Twilight grinned. “Make sure you finish the whole plate; Mom’ll be hurt if you don’t.”

“Watch me.” But no amount of bluster could hide the faint green tinge on his face.

***

Shining’s face was considerably greener after eating. Their mother had seen fit to make an entire feast for them, and Twilight spent the whole meal making ‘I told you so’ faces in his direction.

“I hope that was enough for everyone,” said Velvet. “If you’d like I could get you some more, Shining – I know what your appetite’s like.”

“No!” Shining coughed and shifted in his chair. “Uh… I mean, no, I’m definitely full, thanks.”

“If you say so.”

“Evening.” A voice behind Twilight.

She froze. She’d almost forgotten, caught up in the good cheer the rest of her family brought. For a moment Twilight had managed not to think about it. About him. But it couldn’t last, and now he was here himself, right behind her. At least she couldn’t see him yet. She didn’t turn round as Shining’s face lit up, or when he jumped up to greet their father. She just stared at her plate, as if nothing else in the world mattered. And she would have been content to stay that way forever, had a blue hoof not landed on her shoulder.

“Hey there, kiddo. It’s been too long.”

not as long as you think

“Hi, Dad.” Twilight stood and turned, trying to seem natural even though all her movements felt stiff, like her joints were seizing up. And then, for the first time since the day he had taken her in a musty room with her sweat clinging to the blindfold over her eyes, Twilight came face to face with her father.

He spread a hoof wide, and Twilight had no choice but to accept the offered hug. His fur brushed softly against hers, and she could feel his hot breath on her neck, forcing her to suppress a shudder.

“I’ve missed you, Twily,” he said.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

And she had.

Oh how she had.

***

Twilight wrapped her blanket tighter around herself as she cracked open her bedroom door, glancing up and down the deserted hallway. Pale blue moonlight paved her way along the lush carpet, her hoof-falls almost silent as she walked. She didn’t know where she was going, just away from her room and the bed that gave her no rest. It was too big, perhaps. The room even put the guest lodgings at Canterlot to shame, and that may have contributed to her insomnia. Or perhaps it was simply being somewhere new. Yes, that had to be it. Something easy, and rational.

hey there kiddo

She’d made small-talk with the rest of her family as best she could – acting natural, playing the part. Every time her father spoke a small flutter had risen through her chest, and Twilight found it harder and harder to hide. And then, after an eternity, everybody had finally agreed it was time for bed, Twilight gratefully rushing to her room as quickly as possible in the hopes she could shut the door and shut out everything that had followed her there. She’d been wrong.

Now Twilight made her way down to the ground floor, still wandering aimlessly in an attempt to still her racing mind. Step after methodical step, concentrating on each with the entirety of her focus, because if she slipped even for a minute then everything would come back.

And then she stopped.

She didn’t plan to, but ahead of her a door lay ajar, orange light cascading out into the hall through the crack. Someone else couldn’t sleep either.

Twilight knew it would be Night Light even before she pushed the door open. He always went to bed late, and at home she’d often find him in the kitchen in the earliest hours of the morning, perhaps reading, perhaps just drinking tea and thinking. He’d always offer her a smile in those times, but now he didn’t turn around.

A lit candelabra sat in front of him, its light throwing his face into stark contrast, shadows cutting sharply across his features.

“Hey Twilight,” he said, staring into the dancing flames in front of him. A book lay discarded by his side – he hadn’t read far.

“How did you know it was me?”

She could hear the grin in his voice. “A father always knows.”

Not always

He shrugged at her silence. “Lucky guess. You used to come down in the night back home, too. I guess neither of us are any good at breaking habits.”

Still staring into the candle flames, Night Light patted the cushion next to him, and after the barest moment of hesitation Twilight joined him. It was easiest not to look at him, she found, and so side by side they watched the flickering light slowly make its way down as the wax melted.

“It’s empty here,” her father said, after a while.

“Huh?”

“This house. It’s too big. It would’ve only been for Celestia when it was built, why bother to go to so much effort?”

“Guests?” suggested Twilight. “There’s a ballroom here, so I suppose she used it for that sort of thing.”

“Perhaps.” Her father sighed. “It’s not quite how I expected, that’s all.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I’m not sure. Something… closer. It’s the first time we’ve all been together for so long, and there’s so much space we could walk all day and never meet one another.”

“I found you,” said Twilight.

“Yeah, I suppose you did.” And now he did turn to look at her, and she could see the candle flame in his eyes. “It’s good having you here, kiddo.”

Twilight shifted slightly. “You don’t have to say it again.”

He nodded. “Duly noted – stop telling my daughter I’m happy to see her.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” said Twilight, frowning.

“Yeah, yeah, if you say so.”

Night Light lapsed back into silence, though the quiet was a lot more comfortable this time around. It no longer felt like she should say something; they were both content in just having company.

Somehow, while they were talking, Twilight had edged closer to him. She wasn’t sure when she’d done so, but now her flank nearly touched his, and she could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, almost feel the heat from his skin.

And with a jolt of anticipation, Twilight leant the rest of the way and rested her head on his shoulder. It was an act of tiredness, she told herself. One of purely platonic, familial love. The almost imperceptible quickening of her breathing and flush in her cheeks told a different story, one she refused to give credence to.

But maybe she shook a little when he lay a hoof around her in a half-embrace. Maybe she wished he’d do more than that, that he knew, that he’d take her face in his hooves and kiss her.

Maybe.

When Twilight woke the next morning she would have only vague, sleepy memories of her father bidding her goodnight. But she’d remember the flickering candles. She’d remember the smell of wax in his fur, and his silhouette turning to give her a last smile as she left, eyes bright even in the encroaching dark.

***

Celestia’s sun beat down, fearsomely hot, and not for the first time that day Twilight offered a silent thank you to whoever had invented parasols. They were the only thing making the outside even remotely bearable. That, and the ice-cold lemonade the five ponies were guzzling to stay cool.

The manor’s back lawn was slightly less impressive than the front, but given the latter’s grandeur that wasn’t saying much. It was still enormous, surrounded on all edges by thick trees, with a small patio by the house where the Sparkle family currently basked in the sun’s warmth. Well, most of the Sparkle family. Twilight didn’t know how they could stand it, and had instead opted for a spot of welcoming shade closer to the house.

And from here it was easier to avoid looking in Night Light’s direction.

“Hey Twily, could you fill this up for me?” Shining Armor levitated an empty glass to her with a hopeful look.

She smiled sweetly back. “Get it yourself, lazy bones.”

Her brother groaned and clambered to his hooves. “Thanks, sis,” he said, voice laced with faux-bitterness.

“Don’t mention it,” Twilight replied, briefly poking her tongue out at him while Cadance snickered at their joint childishness.

“I’m starting to think you had the right idea, Twilight.” Shining downed his glass in seconds and poured another from the rapidly emptying jug. “It’s too damn hot.”

“Well, I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’...”

Her brother frowned. “Yes you do.”

“You’re right, I totally do.”

“You know,” said Cadance, “there’s a whole lake out front to swim in if you need to cool off.”

Shining blinked. “Wait, we can swim in that?”

Even Night Light and Velvet perked up at this new information.

“The servants here keep it clean, so I don’t see why not. And even if we’re not supposed to…” The Princess of Love flicked up her sunglasses and grinned devilishly. “Who’s going to stop us?”

***

The lake was impossibly cool when Twilight dipped a tentative hoof beneath the surface. It felt as though the water somehow funneled all the heat through her body to that one, tiny point, before sucking it away forever. This was going to be amazing.

Cadance, standing by the water’s edge, seemed less sure. “You first, Shiny.”

And to Shining Armor’s credit, he resisted the obvious temptation for all of three seconds. Cadance realised her mistake too late, eyes going in wide in panic just before her husband grabbed her and leapt forwards, pulling both of them into the water with a loud splash. When they resurfaced, Shining’s laughter was only slightly subdued by the torrents of water Cadance splashed at him, as if she could somehow make him even wetter in revenge.

“You. Are. Just. The. Worst!” Cadance shrieked, punctuating each word with another splash. Perhaps she would have been taken more seriously if she’d managed to keep a straight face.

Twilight opted for a more restrained approach. Without anyone to hurl her in against her will she was able to gently lower herself into the lake, relishing in the cool water’s touch as it enveloped her.

As Shining and Cadance’s water fight grew more heated (honestly, if it were anypony but her brother it would be difficult to imagine a princess and her husband acting that way, but Shining Armor would only ever have married someone as immature at heart as he was) Twilight made the final plunge and dipped her head beneath the surface. For a moment the shouts and splashes were muted, the world replaced by a lovely, dulled quiet. Part of her wanted to stay down there, down where there was nothing but the sound of rushing blood through her ears, where the light speckled through the surface to form shimmering patterns that danced in front of Twilight’s eyes.

But soon enough her lungs protested Twilight’s underwater existence, and she pushed herself back into the air with a gasp. Shining and Cadance’s water fight had subsided by the time Twilight returned to the surface, replaced rather unsurprisingly by affectionate nuzzles. She wrinkled her nose in exaggerated distaste, but her brother didn’t even have the common decency to look sheepish, instead just flicking water at her.

And then Twilight made the fatal mistake of retaliating. The ensuing battle arguably deserved epic ballads to be sung for generations. Even when the warfare seemed to calm, all it took was the slightest accidental flick of water to start the whole thing over again. It was a long while before the three of them, soaking and exhausted, pulled themselves up onto the lake’s shore.

“So much for swimming,” said Cadance, wringing out her mane.

“Psh, that was way more fun.” Shining’s horn lit up and a blue glow surrounded his wife, sinking into her fur and removing any trace of water. He did the same to Twilight before drying himself.

It was probably for the best that Night Light and Velvet hadn’t joined them. Splashing aside, Twilight was finding it more and more difficult to be around her father. Each time she stole a glance at him she’d be transported back to a room she knew all too well. Sometimes she swore she could even feel metal tightening around her hooves, or the magic dampener clicking into place on her horn.

But even now her less rational side wished he had come with them. Her imagination conjured up unbidden images of Night Light climbing out of the water, mane plastered to his face, water rolling

Stop.

over his flanks and guiding her eyes down, down between

stop

his legs as he stood there, tail flicking and gazing at her with more than just a father’s love.

stopitstopitstopit

“Twilight?” Her brother’s voice.

“Huh?” Oops. Both Shining and Cadance were watching her with an identical, concerned look.

“I said we’re going back, are you coming? You kinda zoned out on us there.”

“Sorry, it’s just…” Twilight couldn’t come up with an appropriate excuse, so she skipped it entirely. “Yeah, let’s head back.”

“Okay.” Shining gave her one last searching glance before turning back towards the manor.

Yes, going back was good. It might be hard to explain that she already needed a cold shower, though.

***

That was no small task, as it turned out, because after twenty minutes of searching Twilight still hadn’t found a bathroom. The mansion was a twisting labyrinth of corridors and closed doors, and the only way to find out what lay behind them was to open them. Twilight had found countless dressing rooms, and sitting rooms, and Celestia-knows-what rooms, but not a single bathroom.

In fact, when she finally stepped into one she was so surprised it took her a moment to realise somepony else was already there.

Her first instinct, naturally, was to apologise profusely and back out with her eyes averted, but she’d caught the flash of dark blue fur before she forced herself to look away, and knew exactly who the unexpected occupant happened to be. And Night Light hadn’t seen her yet.

Leave, Twilight. Leave.

But she couldn’t. Her eyes returned to him, drinking in his form as they travelled over his flanks. He’d just left the shower, and was so busy towelling his mane dry that he still hadn’t noticed his daughter, frozen in the doorway.

Visions of creeping up behind him filled her, touching a hoof to his side, Night Light turning and seeing it was her, and not shying away. Her father looking at her the same way she did now to him, his skin still warm from the shower under her touch as his face moved closer to hers, drawing her in until their lips met.

Twilight’s mouth was dry, and almost without thinking she took another, quiet step into the room.

None of that will happen, Twilight. Stop.

And as much as she hated it, her inner voice was right. Her father would never do that.

Not if he knew it was her.

No, she wasn’t doing this, she wasn’t, she wasn’t. But of course she was. Twilight wrapped her magic around a towel, and the tell-tale sound made Night Light turn. Too slow, and Twilight was ready for him, the thick material wrapping around his eyes and completely cutting off his sight. A makeshift blindfold.

He let out a startled cry quite unlike his usual demeanour, stumbling backwards at the sudden loss of vision. “Velvet!?”

Twilight said nothing, naturally, but in response she sent a tendril of magic to stroke against his cheek. She couldn’t risk touching him – there was no way he’d mistake Twilight for her mother with that much contact – but magic would provide a sufficient alternative.

“Velvet, what are you…?”

In response her magic began to trace its way over his body, rolling over the contours of his form, lingering on his muscular shoulders before working her way further back. She could see him shiver at her touch, and oh how she wished it was her hoof running against him instead, her lips, anything. In some ways this was more torturous than before, having him so close but still so unattainable. But she could never leave now.

A separate burst of magic shut the door, locking it behind her, and her father jerked at the sudden sound. His slight movement allowed Twilight a glimpse of his underside, where she could tell her caresses were already beginning to have an effect.

Last time she had been as blind as he was now, but now there were no such compromises. She could see everything. His length jutted proudly forwards, bumping against his stomach with each excited twitch she caused.

Everything came back at once; his tongue against her skin, how he smiled when she moaned at his ministrations, the wonderful pressing of his weight above her, but most of all how he had felt inside her. Twilight wanted so badly to reach forward and touch it, to feel its heat again, but instead resigned her hoof to her now wet marehood, slumping down against the wall as she began to play with herself.

Her magic went lower, lower, making Night Light gasp in anticipation. He stomped a hoof impatiently, but Twilight only slowed her progress. She was enjoying the look of desperation on his face far too much to let it go that easily.

He dropped to the floor, leaning back against the wall and spreading his legs, giving Twilight an even clearer view of his stallionhood. Her magic played around his member, gently teasing, taking such delight in how easy it was to toy with him.

Night Light nickered as she gentled her touch once again, denying him the climax he was so close to for what must have felt like the hundredth time. “T-Twilight…”

Her heart skipped at least four beats. Did he just…? There was no sound but Night Light’s quick panting. Twilight must have forgotten to breathe, because a wave of light-headedness washed over her, and she had to take a few gasping breaths to steady herself.

“Velvet? Are you okay?”

Oh. Of course. He never called her mother ‘Twilight’ in front of her; no wonder it had taken her by surprise. Twilight couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed.

“Velvet?”

Damn it. He wanted a response. She couldn’t speak – he’d know instantly – but if she didn’t then he might take the towel off. This had become very bad, very quickly, and Twilight shot the door a panicked glance. Perhaps she should run; say nothing and bolt. But when she looked back at Night Light in such an enticing position, legs spread wide just for her, she knew that was no option at all.

“...mmhm.” It was all Twilight dared. The most vague of positive noises, trying to keep her voice low in an imitation of her mother.

After the longest moment of her life, Night Light smiled. “Okay. Well then, uh… please don’t stop.”

A jerk of excitement at his words shot through her, and Twilight smiled at the sheepish grin he gave her. How could she ever deny him? Her horn filled with magic once more, taking his length in her grip again, teasing against his skin.

“Fuck…” he breathed.

this mare sure is tight
Stop it.

But it was far too late for that. That one word, the way he said it exactly the same, was enough to flood her with memories. Delicious, decadent ones. Her hoof toyed with herself with renewed vigour as she remembered how he’d felt pushing into her, making him gasp as she clenched against him, so thick and hard all for her. She hadn’t known then, of course, but looking back made it all the better.

Twilight tightened her magic around him in an imitation of herself on that day, beginning to quickly pump him as her own excitement grew. Night Light shuddered against the tiled floor, his hooves pressing tightly down as if he could somehow grip it, somehow hold on. Instead they slid uselessly across the smooth surface as pleasure wracked through him, Twilight’s magic proving all too much.

And Twilight’s touch was quickly becoming too much for herself as well, each light brush of her hoof against her causing another jolt as she bit down hard on her lip to stop any errant moans from escaping. She still couldn’t prevent an occasional gasp, and each time Night Light heard her he’d shake a little, ears snapping towards the sound.

His own breathing came in ragged pants now as Twilight began bucking her hips against her hoof, giving quiet squeaks that spurred both of them on, her magic only increasing in intensity.

Twilight came first, shuddering and spasming and clenching her teeth together so she didn’t cry out. Her tail swished as she shook, the cool tiles providing no comfort against the heat that consumed every part of her. And though she didn’t want to, though all her thoughts screamed at her to tense up against the unstoppable forces that shook her to the core, Twilight made sure to keep her eyes open. She couldn’t miss a moment of her father’s enjoyment, burning every single second into her memory. Every bead of sweat that rolled down his face, every taut muscle beneath his skin, every twitch of his member in her magic’s grasp. As the waves of climax rocked through her, Night Light’s head rolled back, groaning loudly as he reached his edge.

His length gave one final twitch before his orgasm overwhelmed him, white ropes shooting all over his chest and onto the floor. Still in the final throes of her pleasure, one final spike shot through Twilight, a last burst of excitement as she watched him finish, knowing she had caused it, that it was her magic that surrounded him, gently eking out as much as she could.

For a while they lay there in opposite corners of the room, the only sound their deep, long breaths as they both tried to summon enough energy to even move. Feeling both entirely sated and utterly exhausted, Twilight was about to climb to shaking feet when Night Light’s hoof lifted to his face, and to the towel which covered his eyes.

Oh no oh no no no

Panic flooding her, Twilight’s head snapped to the door. It was too far, so far; there was no way she’d make it in time.

He’s going to see, he’s going to see, he’s going to

Her father’s hoof came down, dragging the towel with it as he opened his eyes, greeting his expected lover with a smile.

The bathroom was empty.

Perhaps if Night Light had been in any state to notice, he would have seen the tiny, residual swirls of magic Twilight’s teleportation had left behind.

***

Back in her room, Twilight crumpled onto her bed. Her face sank deep into her pillow, thick and suffocating. Blinding. Shame burned low in her stomach, and the visions of Night Light shuddering under her magic that refused to leave only made it worse. So much worse.

And on top of it all, fuelling the shame and regret, was the knowledge that she’d loved every moment of it. Even now, just remembering her father’s groans or the way his hooves had pawed weakly at nothing made a pressing sensation grow at the base of her tail.

Oh Celestia why couldn’t she stop thinking about it? About him?

Why couldn’t she show even the barest self-restraint? She didn’t have to go to him; she should’ve just walked away.

But Twilight knew she could never have done that.

Hey there, kiddo.

…

The coming weeks were going to last a very long time indeed.

2. Live Bed Show

“Ngh…” Twilight shuddered as another orgasm rolled through her, tingling sparks flooding right to the very tips of her hooves. Her foreleg was soaked now, the base of her tail plastered to the bedsheets, but finally she could let herself drop backwards, satisfied.

Except not really. No, despite several climaxes, despite the fact she’d been at it so long that she’d started to ache, satisfaction was well out of her reach. There was no respite to be had now, not since the incident in the bathroom that she wanted more than anything to forget.

That she wanted more than anything to remember forever.

Twilight groaned and shoved her face into the depths of the pillow she’d been desperately clutching moments before in the vain hope it might help. And maybe it did, just a little bit. When she was a little foal she’d done the same thing, burying everything that troubled her in soft darkness. It had been more effective back then, when all she worried about was exam results and deadlines and impressing Celestia. When both she and her problems had been small. Bigger things were harder to bury.

“Twilight?”

A voice outside her door. Twilight froze for a second before diving beneath her covers, arranging herself as best she could to make it look like she hadn’t spent the last however long clopping herself stupid.

“Y-yes?”

“Velvet’s made breakfast, and she asked me to come see if you were up. I take it you are, then?”

Cadance.

“Yeah, I’ll… I’ll be down in just a minute!” Twilight called back, hoping against hope that the tremors in her still-shaky voice weren’t noticeable.

“Okay then. See you downstairs.”

There was a long, arduous pause before the sound of Cadance’s retreating hoofsteps finally reached Twilight’s ears and she let herself relax again. She was being much too jumpy, she knew, but some small, irrational part of her truly believed that Cadance would know exactly what had been on her mind if she had been caught. Exactly which stallion towered above her in unbidden fantasies, running his dark blue hooves softly through her fur.

And even less than that, sometimes. Perhaps just memories of the way he smiled at her, head slightly tilted. Just the way he laughed, ever so softly, or how he’d drag his hoof slowly through his mane when he was tired. Everything so familiar and comforting and-

Something stirred in her, and she quickly cast the thoughts aside. But as clarity returned, so did another, nameless feeling she’d been trying to push out. It wasn’t guilt, exactly. Twilight felt no guilt at all for her actions, even though she knew she really should. And that was the crux of it – guilt would have been manageable. Expected. Not feeling it was somehow worse, like a confirmation of how depraved this whole situation was turning out to be.

It’s time to stop, Twilight.

The voice was Celestia’s. Whenever her inner conscience decided to reprimand her, it would always be the Princess.

Night Light is your father, my little pony. Nothing more, nothing less. You must begin to see him that way again, not as the blindfolded stallion you want him to be.

“I’m trying!” she protested.

Are you?

Twilight wished she could answer that.

***

“I did it, I did it!” Twilight shouted happily, the small rock in front of her trembling in her magic’s glow. It wasn’t the steadiest as far as floating rocks went, but that didn’t matter because she was the one holding it there and that was the only thing that was important.

“Great job, kiddo!” Her father beamed at her as he ruffled the little filly’s mane.

The little distraction was too much, though, and with a tiny “Eep!” Twilight’s magic fizzled and died, the rock hitting the ground with a thud. Immediately her gleeful expression was replaced by one of utter despair. And slowly even that began to change, a deep frown carving its way into her forehead.

“Twilight? Are-”

Before her father could even really begin his question Twilight gave the stone a savage kick, sending it flying in a cloud of dust.

“This whole thing’s stupid,” she proclaimed, sullenly dropping to her haunches.

She expected Night Light to get angry, or at the very least upset, but he did neither. Instead her father silently walked over to where the rock had landed, picked it up in his hoof, and returned it to the ground in front of her.

It didn’t take long for Twilight to kick it away again.

This time she was sure he’d lose his temper, that he’d shout and yell at her for being such a spoiled filly. He didn’t. Once more he walked to where it lay, collected it, then wordlessly set it down by her hooves, only for her to fling it away again.

They repeated this five times. On the sixth it was Twilight who shouted.

“Why do you keep bringing it back?! I don’t want to do this anymore!”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t, and I’m never going to be able to and I’m better off just giving up right now.”

“That’s not true. You were levitating that rock not five minutes ago.” Night Light, satisfied she wasn’t going to hurl the offending object away again, sat down beside her. Twilight didn’t look at him.

“But I dropped it,” she said.

“Yes, you did.”

Her father’s statement stung more than she thought it would. It was so matter-of-fact. So… final. Twilight had dropped the rock. She was terrible at magic.

“And I did too, when I first tried,” he continued. “So did your mother, so did your brother. I bet even Princess Celestia dropped the first thing she tried to levitate.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Doubt me all you want, kiddo, the point is that you don’t have to succeed right away. Or even the time after that. You don’t need to be perfect.”

“You never drop stuff.”

“No, but I’ve had a lot of practice. You just have to give it time.”

“But what if I don’t get any better? What if I drop it again?”

“Then you pick it up and keep trying.”

Twilight snorted, and her father sighed.

“You know what I think?” he asked.

“What?” Twilight’s reply was bitter and cold.

“I think you’re so scared of failing that you can’t even imagine success. That’s silly, Twilight. If everypony gave up the first time something didn’t go perfectly, nothing would ever get done.” He rested a hoof on her shoulder. “We all fall down sometimes, kiddo; you just have to keep picking yourself up.”

Twilight said nothing, but when her father nudged the rock a little nearer to her she didn’t toss it aside.

“And I know you can do it,” he said.

“How?”

Her father smiled. She couldn’t see it, eyes still cast to floor, but she could hear it in his voice. “Because you’ve done it once already.”

And though Twilight didn’t look up, though she didn’t reply, her horn began to glow once more.

***

“Hey, Twily!” Shining Armor trotted down the corridor, a stupid grin plastered onto his face.

“Jeez Shining, couldn’t you wait more than five minutes after breakfast?”

Her father had been absent at the table that morning, much to Twilight’s relief. It wasn’t unusual, given how late he stayed up, but she’d still half-expected him to be there, staring at her accusingly. It had occurred to Twilight how easy it would be for him to mention the bathroom to Velvet, and just how badly that could end. Fortunately, her mother’s high-spirits suggested it hadn’t come to that. At least not yet.

Still, now she wanted nothing more than to slink back to her room and hide herself under the covers again, and Shining Armor was making that difficult.

His smile didn't even falter at her question. “No, this is way too awesome to wait.”

Twilight sighed. “I’m almost scared to ask.”

“Aw, come on! You gotta see it to appreciate it.”

“The last time you said that we both ended up covered in mud and freezing half to death, all because you swore you’d seen a monster at the end of the river.”

“You still remember that? Way to hold a grudge.”

“It was a tree, Shining! How did you even…”

“In my defence, it was a really weird looking tree. And anyway, this is different. Promise.”

Twilight sighed. “Pinkie promise?”

“I… don’t know what that is. I guess I do?”

“Alright, but now if this isn’t the most amazing thing ever, you have to stick a cupcake in your eye.”

“Er…” Shining shrugged. “Deal.”

***

Twilight had to admit, her brother’s discovery was pretty ‘awesome’. It was a shame in some ways – she’d been quite looking forward to seeing him struggle with a cupcake.

“See? I don’t know why you ever doubt me, Twily.”

“Oh, I can think of one or two reasons. Or, like, a hundred.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” he replied, nudging her in the ribs. “Now come on, I’ll set it up.”

Shining Armor, to Twilight’s complete and utter lack of surprise, had found the manor’s games room.

As luxurious as the rest of the mansion, this particular area seemed hardly touched, as though Celestia had ordered it built and then promptly forgotten it existed. Everything was immaculate, from the dartboard which had never seen a single throw against it to the couches that could have come out of their wrappings five minutes ago. The room was lined with all manner of exotic and beautifully crafted games tables, only half of which Twilight recognised, and dominating the centre was a particularly expensive-looking billiards table, which Shining Armor was confidently striding towards.

“When did you find this place, anyway?” she asked.

“Yesterday,” replied Shining, beginning to rack the balls. “But I haven’t told anyone else yet.”

“Not even Cadance? She’d love this.”

Her brother gave her a sidelong look. “Exactly.”

“Huh?”

“You know Cadance; she gets way too competitive over stuff like this. Remember the train journey over here?”

“Oh, I see.” Twilight grinned wickedly. “You’re scared she’s going to beat you again.”

“No, no, that’s not-”

“Well,” she interrupted, horn bursting to life as she grabbed a pool cue off the wall, “I’m afraid you picked the wrong pony to play against if you wanted to win.”

“Is that so? That sounds suspiciously like a challenge…”

“Hm, I suppose it does, doesn’t it?”

Shining Armor leant back against the table, propping up his cue against his shoulder. “Alright Twily, if you’re so sure of yourself, let’s up the stakes.”

“With what?” Twilight asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t bring many bits with me. Not enough to compete with a Prince’s funds, anyway.”

Her brother snorted. “You’re thinking way too small. No, I was thinking more along the lines of the bets we made when we were younger.”

“You mean… dares? Remind me, how old are you again?”

“Hey, if you don’t think you’ll win, it’s fine,” he said, far too nonchalantly. “We’ll just play some regular, boring pool.”

“I know what you’re doing, Shining. Reverse psychology is supposed to be subtle.”

“Ah, but is it working?”

Twilight frowned. “Yes.”

And of course it was. Shining knew just how much she loved beating him at his own game – she’d never be able to resist. His triumphant smirk only confirmed it was the right decision.

“Alright then,” he said, “you go first.”

Twilight didn’t take long to decide. “If I win,” she began, deliberately pausing for too long just to watch him squirm, “you have to wear whatever I pick out for you for the rest of the day.”

Shining wrinkled his nose. “It’s gonna be a girl’s outfit, isn’t it?”

“Oh, it is definitely going to be a girl’s outfit.”

“Damn, that’s a good one.” But Shining’s smile didn’t waver. He was up to something, and Twilight wasn’t sure she wanted to find out what. “But if I win…” Her brother made the same show of pausing dramatically, even with Twilight rolling her eyes at him. “Well, you remember the sandwich I made on the way over here?”

Here we go...

“You have to eat three of them, right before dinner. I’ll make sure you get an extra large helping, too.”

Ah, so that was it. Petty revenge. “Suddenly, all this makes sense,” said Twilight. “I should’ve guessed.”

“Do we have a deal?” asked Shining, ignoring her and holding out a hoof.

“Duh.” She tapped her own hoof against his outstretched one. There was no backing out now; giving up would be forfeit.

But that was okay – Twilight had no intention of losing.

***

The problem with pool, at least in Twilight’s eyes, was that neither of them were very good at it. Shining Armor had learned long ago not to challenge Twilight to any games that required too much thought, and in turn she avoided anything necessitating large amounts of physical effort.

Pool, however, was a game of precision and practice, which put the siblings on a roughly even playing field. And this time Shining was winning.

Yet another ball dropped into a pocket, and her brother hoof-pumped the air. “I hope you’re hungry, Twilight.”

“Starving, thank you.” she replied icily. “And you haven’t won yet.”

“Not yet, no. Not yet.” Another thunk, another pot, and Shining became one step closer to victory. “But if I were you,” he continued, “I’d be getting worried.”

Twilight became considerably less worried when his next shot missed completely.

“You’re right,” she said, snickering into her hoof. “I’m terrified.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s see you do better.”

“Gladly,” said Twilight, with much more conviction than she felt.

As the game continued Twilight did manage to pull back into the running a little, making up for her poor start after some dreadful shots by Shining Armor, but it still wasn’t enough to beat him to the 8-ball. With only a single of her stripes left Twilight messed up, her ball bouncing uselessly off the corner of a pocket as the white ended in the perfect position for Shining to take the win.

“Don’t even say it,” Twilight warned, stepping back from the table and pointing her cue at her brother like a spear, close enough to his face that he went cross-eyed trying to focus on the end.

“I’m hurt you think I’d say anything,” protested Shining as he pushed the cue away and prepared to deliver the killing blow. “Honestly, what do you take me for? To think I’d gloat over utterly crushing you into the ground, or that I’d boast about just how much I’ve beaten you, or that I’d-”

“Shining?”

“Yeah?”

“Just take the shot.”

Her brother grinned. “Whatever you say.”

Thunk.

The 8-ball began its fateful journey to the end of the table, Twilight able to do nothing but watch as Shining’s triumph rolled ever closer. And then, just as it reached the very edge of the pocket, the ball stopped dead.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding…” muttered Shining.

Twilight, on the other hoof, was suddenly filled with newfound hope. A hope she quickly realised by potting everything left on the table. The look on her brother’s face as Twilight snatched the win right out from under his nose was priceless.

“I’ve decided I don’t like this game,” he announced, as the 8-ball dropped out of sight.

“Don’t worry BBBFF,” said Twilight brightly. “I’ll make sure I choose something really pretty to cheer you up!”

Shining’s expression suggested he’d never be cheerful again.

***

“Jackpot.”

Twilight grinned as she surveyed the kaleidoscope of colour the closet offered her. It had taken a while to find this, tucked away in one of the multitude of bedrooms that dotted the manor, but now she was spoiled for choice. All kinds of dresses and skirts and ridiculously over-the-top outfits hung on display, and Shining would hate all of them. The hard part was finding the one he’d dislike the most.

It was a large, walk-in closet, and Twilight stepped inside to better see what she was dealing with. Most of the clothes looked as though they hadn't been worn for years – everything smelled slightly of mothballs, which really only added to how much fun she was going to have showing it to Shining Armor. Celestia wouldn’t mind, she was sure of that. The princess had probably forgotten these outfits even existed, and this was definitely part of a greater good.

As Twilight leafed further through the selection, she began to wonder if Celestia had actually worn any of it even once. Some of the ball gowns were okay, but imagining the Princess in a flowery dress complete with oversized sun hat was difficult. The same applied to the particularly skimpy swimsuit Twilight found next. It always struck her as odd how something like that seemed even more revealing than bare fur.

And now she was imagining her brother in it.

An image she’d sooner forget, Twilight quickly returned to the task at hoof. The next dress she found was the worst thing she’d ever seen; all clashing colours, frills and lace and ridiculous bits of ribbon which seemed to go nowhere and serve no purpose even as decoration. If Rarity had seen it she’d likely tell Twilight it was better off being incinerated, and Twilight was inclined to agree. It was perfect.

And when she heard someone fumbling at the door behind her she turned with the most innocent smile she could muster, ready to show her brother exactly what he was in for. It took a second for her to recognise the voices and realise her mistake. It wasn’t Shining. It wasn’t him at all.

Night Light and Twilight Velvet swept into the room, oblivious to the closet door closing silently beside them. They were far too preoccupied in each other to take in little details like that, falling sideways onto the bed, limbs entwined. Velvet’s horn flared and the door locked behind them. As far as her parents were concerned, they were alone. Their daughter certainly couldn’t be staring at them through a crack in the closet door, heart caught in her chest.

Look away.

It was Celestia’s voice again, the one of reason, of clarity and perfect sense. The one Twilight knew she should listen to.

Just look away.

But she didn’t. Couldn’t. Not as Night Light rolled atop Velvet and began to move down her body, lips playing over her fur as he did so. Twilight's mother gasped at his touch, melting against him as he moved lower.

Look away. Cover your ears.

But instead she heard every tremulous sound her father caused. Saw every nip, every brush against Velvet’s fur. Twilight almost felt it.

“Stop teasing…” Velvet murmured, shifting impatiently beneath him.

“But you make it so easy.” As if to prove his point, Night Light ran a hoof up the inside of her thigh, grinning when she shuddered at his touch. He laughed softly at her reaction, before acquiescing and lowering his head the rest of the way. Immediately Velvet bit down on her hoof, not quite able to fully silence the moan which broke out.

“Ngh…”

From her position Twilight couldn’t really see Night Light’s movements, buried as he was between Velvet’s legs, but she could certainly see the effect they were having, her mother writhing and twisting and clutching vainly at the bedsheets.

And she remembered first-hand how his tongue had felt diving into her; how he had explored every inch, making her moan into the gag as Velvet did now into her hoof.

Oh, how she remembered that.

Velvet gave a last, loud cry, shuddering as Night Light sent her over the edge, and Twilight bit down hard on her lip, so hard she almost drew blood. But still she couldn’t close her eyes. Not as her father pulled back, gently planting kisses on Velvet’s stomach even as she continued to squirm, a deep flush in her cheeks.

And now Night Light was clambering above Velvet again, and Twilight wanted nothing more than to look away, just to look away like she knew she would if some twisted thing inside of her didn’t make it impossible to tear her eyes from them.

Watch, it said, in a voice that was far from Celestia’s and filled with bitterness. Watch.

So Twilight watched. She watched as Night Light pushed into Velvet, watched as his hooves tightened around her hips, pulling her down onto his length. Everything in explicit, minute detail, down to the way the muscles tightened beneath his flank as he thrust, or how a single strand of his mane stuck between his eyes.

Is that how he’d looked above her? It was so easy to imagine him now, to see him pressing down on her back, making her hoofcuffs clink against the floor as he fucked her. And even as the thought sent a shameful but oh-so-welcome flush of heat through her body, Twilight hated it. Hated it both because he was her father and it should never have happened in the first place, and because she knew it would never happen again.

Velvet moaned quietly again, muted this time not by a hoof but by Night Light’s lips locked against hers, before he broke away and began to kiss against her neck instead. Her hooves reached up, one pawing through his mane while the other trailed over his back. In the closet, Twilight dug her own hooves into the carpet.

When Night Light gasped – breathless and panting – another tingle slid through her, right down her spine to the base of her tail. Twilight refused to let it affect her, to let it make her hoof wander between her legs, or light up her horn. Not now, not to this.

Oh but it was so tempting. She didn’t see her mother out there, not really. Twilight saw a very different unicorn, bound and gagged, mane matted against lavender fur. And, despite cursing herself for even thinking it, she wished he saw that too. That behind the eyes he’d scrunched shut as he made love to his wife, he was instead remembering a long ago night in a room very different to this.

But he wasn’t, she knew. Night Light had probably cast it aside as a one night thing that meant nothing to him now. A mistake. And that thought finally broke Twilight, her eyes beginning to mist as she tore them from the sight of her parents at last, sinking to the floor of the closet and curling into a ball and trying to shut out the sounds of mounting passion that filled the room.

This is pathetic. It was the bitter voice again, the not-Celestia that she couldn’t quite place. Look at you, heart-broken because your father prefers to rut his wife to his daughter.

Go away.

And now you’re trying to argue with your own thoughts. Could you get any worse?

Go away.

Scratch that, this isn’t even arguing, kiddo.

And now Twilight recognised the bitter voice. It was warped, yes, but enough of him was left.

Do you think this is something he would have wanted? it continued. His own daughter lusting after him? Do you think if he’d known for one second it was you in those hoofcuffs he’d have carried on?

No, was her unspoken and unwanted answer.

No, the voice concluded smugly.

And yet, despite everything, Twilight found a strange resolve building within her. Because now she realised Night Light had crossed a line first. He was just as bad as her, looking for fulfilment in that place where names were left at the door. Worse, perhaps. The shame that had been plaguing her began to fade away at that simple realisation, that her father was no more perfect than she was.

And with it gone, the desire that had been hidden away washed over her once again. She’d seen the way Velvet quivered at his touch, and remembered how warm his weight above her had been, how warm all of him had been. She needed that again. Celestia, she needed that.

For the first time, Twilight wanted to tell her father everything.

The bitter version of him was silent at her conclusion, and as Twilight began to take in her surroundings once again, she realised the real Night Light was too. Her parents were gone, and judging by the stiffness in her legs probably had been for some time.

Twilight didn’t know how long she’d been curled up in the closet for, but it was long enough. The room still carried a hint of musk; other than the messed up bedcovers it was the only remnant of her parents’ presence.

But as she left the room, Twilight felt as though a weight had been lifted. She was going to tell her father exactly who he had been with that night. She was going to tell him she needed him, and most importantly she was going to get him to need her too. Twilight knew she could do it.

After all, she’d done it once already.

3. Do You Remember the First Time?

Shining Armor was waiting for Twilight when she finally made it back to her bedroom door, and his face lit up in a grin when he spotted her.

“There you are, Twily! I was just-” Shining stopped mid-sentence, his smile fading as he gave her a strange look. “Hey, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Twilight said flatly, but when she tried to step past him her brother blocked the way.

“Yeah? You don’t look it.”

“Well thank you very much…”

“Oh come on, Twilight, don’t be like that. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” she snapped back, more angrily than she’d meant to.

“Whoa, don’t bite my head off. I’m worried about you, that’s all.”

“You don’t need to be.” Twilight looked longingly past Shining Armor at the beckoning door behind him. This was not a conversation she needed right now.

“No? You vanish for hours, when you come back you look as though you haven’t slept for days, and I’m not supposed to worry about that?”

“No, you’re not. I said I was fine.”

“And I’m saying you’re obviously not.” Shining sighed. “Twilight, if there’s anything – and I mean anything – you want to talk about, you know I’m here, right?”

Not for this

“I know,” she said.

Shining was silent for a few more seconds before reluctantly stepping to one side. She didn’t look at him as she passed.

“Hey, what about our bet?” he called as she stepped into her room.

“Forget it,” Twilight answered, clicking the door shut.

***

With Shining Armor taken care of, more or less, Twilight was finally able to focus on the task at hoof. Resolving to tell her father was one thing, actually going through with it was quite another.

Hey Dad, you remember that time you cheated on Mom with a random stranger? Guess who!

What could possibly go wrong?

No, this was a situation that called for tact. Finesse. And maybe a touch of seduction, too. Definitely a touch of seduction, in fact. But even that might not be enough.

Or too much. Twilight groaned inwardly and buried her head in her pillow again. This was impossible. Totally and completely impossible, and Twilight had no choice but to do it or lose her mind completely. She couldn’t bear this any more.

And yet if telling him was easy, she’d have done it already. If getting Night Light to see her the same way needed nothing more than a conversation, they would have had it by now. The question remained: how could she possibly tell her father without ruining everything important to her? The answer was baby steps. Slowly, slowly.

But instead Twilight wanted to rush him nearly off his feet, stealing his breath with a kiss while he stole hers, falling to the floor because finding anything else would take too long. She wanted him to gaze at her with lust filling every facet of his expression, drawing her closer with peppered kisses, if it was even possible to be closer. She wanted him to tell her he loved her, and for the words to send a shiver down her spine because they both knew what he meant. She wanted him to touch her in ways that made her squeal and shudder against him, to make her grip him so tightly that they could hardly breathe, still not enough to stop her quivering. And she wanted him to want that too. Twilight didn’t have time to wait, to go slow. Her desire wouldn’t let her.

And now her imagination flew into overdrive, and her hoof slid down, down, as the fantasy Night Light moved his there too. A gasp escaped her as she played across herself, biting her lip too late to stop any errant sounds. She could almost feel his fur brushing against hers, whispering together as his body pressed down onto her, and the warmth it brought with it. It was such a vivid fantasy, fuelled as it was by delicious memories, and Twilight kept her face buried into her pillow so that reality had no chance to intrude. She wouldn’t let it take this from her.

Every part of her tingled, feeling his touch upon her almost as clearly as she had that night, that one impossible night which floated just out of her reach. But now he was right here with her and every part of her yearned for him and-

Twilight pulled her hoof away. This wasn’t helping. Getting hot and sticky and fired up was only going to make things so much harder to focus on. She needed a plan of action, a method of attack, a way to speak to him about this without getting lost in her father’s golden eyes, in the memories of that evening, the way he bit down lightly on her ear as he-

Twilight regarded her already-damp hoof for a moment, before concluding the plan-making would have to wait and slipping it between her legs once more.

***

“So, who’s the lucky stallion?”

Twilight jerked bolt upright, almost spitting her drink all over the pink alicorn sitting across from her. In return Cadance flashed a smile, the tiniest hint of smugness hidden in its otherwise warm exterior.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Twilight replied, shifting uneasily in her chair. With a clink, Twilight set her glass down on the enormous dining room table, and not for the first time she mulled over how ridiculous they must look bunched up at one end when it could easily seat forty others. She was beginning to regret Cadance’s offer of drinks now that she knew what the princess was up to.

“Of course you don’t.” Cadance didn’t seem at all perturbed by Twilight’s reply. “But even if your reaction didn’t tell me everything, you’re sticking hard to the script, don’t you think? That’s a textbook reply even for you.”

Twilight sighed and slumped in defeat. Her new sister-in-law was far too astute for her own good, and catching Twilight entirely by surprise like that hadn’t made it difficult to confirm her suspicions. “How did you know?”

“I’m the Princess of Love, Twilight. It’d be awkward if I didn’t see it.” The smugness had fully dropped out of Cadance’s smile now, at least. “But if you must know, you’re very good at hiding it, though I’m not sure why you feel the need to.”

Twilight shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant as she could, and took another sip. Whatever Cadance had made them was strong – it burned as it went down, not unpleasantly so.

“Ah, one of those. The ones you can’t tell other ponies about. To be honest, I’ve always found them the most fun.” Cadance’s grin dropped. “Wait, they’re not a mare, are they? I hope I didn’t just stick my hoof in it with the ‘stallion’ thing…”

“They’re not a mare, Cadance.”

Cadance sighed in relief. “Good.” And then her eyes widened as she realised what she’d said. “About not putting my hoof in it, I mean. Because of course if they were a mare, that would be absolutely fine too, though I’d understand why you’re not-”

“They’re not a mare, Cadance,” Twilight repeated, giggling at the princess’ flustered reaction despite herself. “They’re just… inappropriate.”

Understatement of the century, Twilight.

“Oh, that’s not fair, you’re making this way too interesting!” Cadance laughed behind her drink. “But I suppose I can sympathise.”

“Huh?”

“Come on, Twilight, you’re not that naïve. I’m a Princess, and Shining Armor was a guard when we started dating. My guard, in fact. When he became captain I guess our relationship became a bit more respectable, but back when he was my personal escort? Well, I don’t think Aunt Tia would have approved. There’s a reason you didn’t find out about us right up until the wedding – when we announced it we were practically eloping.”

“Really? Celestia didn’t seem upset about it at all.”

“Well, we didn’t give her much of a chance. She found out we were getting married at almost the same time you did.” Cadance paused. “And on the day there were plenty of other things to worry about…”

Twilight winced. A changeling invasion was sure to put a damper on anyone’s wedding celebrations, and all things considered Cadance had handled it exceptionally well.

The princess caught her expression. “Hey, don’t worry yourself. Looking back, it makes one heck of a story.” She leaned in a little closer. “And between you and me, Shining adores playing the hero. He couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity to show off.”

Twilight was entirely unsurprised. “That’s Shining Armor for you.”

“Mm, but let’s get back to your mystery stallion. That’s much more exciting.”

“Ugh, do we have to?”

“Please, Twilight. The Crystal Empire has nothing in the gossip department – this is the best thing I’ve uncovered in months.”

“My life isn’t a stage drama,” Twilight huffed.

“I’m not saying it is! I just want to help.” Cadance adopted a knowing look. “If the Princess of Love can’t give you advice, who can?”

“You’re just using that as an excuse.”

“Maybe a little,” Cadance admitted. “But speaking as a bit of an authority on the subject, if a stallion’s driving you as crazy as this one seems to be, then there’s only one course of action.”

Twilight wasn’t sure she liked where this was going. “Which is?”

Cadance broke into a wide, knowing grin. “Go for it,” she replied.

Twilight’s stomach felt like it did a little flip at Cadance’s answer. She couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or fear. Or both.

If only it were that easy.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Cadance said, pouting. “You don’t even have to tell anyone else. Just him.”

“I definitely can’t tell anypony else.”

“Damn it, Twilight, stop making this so intriguing. I can’t even think of anybody you know who could be so-” Cadance froze for a second, and then her eyes lit up. “Is it Spike?”

“What?! Ew, no! Spike’s a dragon.”

“Hey, no judgements from me. Official Princess of Love and stuff here. Whatever stallion, mare, or dragon takes your fancy.”

“I told you they’re not a mare. And it’s not Spike!”

“Okay, okay!” Cadance took a long drink, finishing her glass. “As always with this kind of thing it’s entirely up to you, but if you’re letting silly things like other ponies’ expectations stop you… Well, Shiny and I wouldn’t be happily married if I’d done the same. Food for thought.”

And although Cadance clearly had no idea of the taboo involved in Twilight’s desires, her words gave the unicorn a small but insistent confidence. Ponies would tell her it was wrong to feel this way about Night Light, that it was immoral and depraved. But they could say that all they wanted, and Twilight didn’t care anymore. This wasn’t about anyone else, just him.

Just him.

***

For the first time in a long while, the night arrived all too quickly. Twilight knew it was the best opportunity to catch her father alone and, as the shadows lengthened along her bedroom wall, a weight settled itself in her chest, growing heavier and heavier by the minute.

This is a bad idea.

Always insistent, Celestia’s voice made one final plea for sanity.

Once you do this you can never take it back.

But it was already too late to take anything back, and this was Twilight’s final recourse. She’d already tried forgetting. It didn’t work.

And so it could only ever have come to this, Twilight sneaking out into the moonlit hallway with trepidation filling each and every step. Part of her already knew where her father would be: the candlelit room she'd found him in on that first, sleepless night. That same part of her knew he would have chosen there so she could find him again.

But when she saw that orange glow burning into the hall's carpet through a slightly ajar door, Twilight stopped dead. The weight in her chest had become a vice, tightening, crushing. Everything screamed at her to run away, simultaneously wanting nothing more than to keep going. Twilight was frozen on the very precipice, torn between two impossibilities.

Walk away, Twilight. It's still not too late.

Oh, but it was, and even Celestia's voice knew it. It became too late the moment her father had put on the blindfold, the moment Twilight's hoofcuffs had closed around her. She was five steps from the door now, and everything that lay behind it. Slowly, so slowly, she lifted a hoof.

Four.

It's empty here.

Three.

We all fall down sometimes.

Two.

Please don't stop...

One.

T-Twilight...

And she pushed open the door. The hoofcuffs clicked shut.

The room hadn't changed. There was no reason why it should have, of course, but that still didn't stop Twilight from noticing it. Maybe it was because she had changed, because everything was different now compared to that first, ignorant night here.

The candles still burned, silhouetting one side of Night Light's face. The ornate fireplace which dominated the far wall was just as imposing, flanked by two armchairs. Last time she and her father had forgone them in favour of cushions, but now Night Light sat reclined in one of the pair, leafing idly through the same book. His smile when he saw her made the vice squeeze even tighter.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Just those two words made her heart rate quicken, made her breaths come short and fast. She was glad he couldn’t see it, that the smile remained on his face.

“Hey,” she murmured.

“You want a seat?” He motioned to the chair opposite him, and Twilight nodded before taking it. The soft thump as Night Light set his book down almost made her jump out of it again. “Can’t sleep?”

“Not really.”

He laughed, but there was no humour in it. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

A pause. Twilight wished she had something to fill it with other than her confession, wracking her brain for anything to delay the inevitable, to give herself just a little bit longer to prepare herself. She found nothing. Her lips were so dry, and running her tongue over them didn’t seem to help. After a deep breath, summoning up every last bit of courage she had, she managed to croak out words again. “I have to tell you something.”

“Well,” he said, “this sounds serious.”

It was a half-joke, she knew, but it couldn’t stop Twilight’s hooves from shaking. Her father’s cheery smile faded when he saw that. Quickly he reached out and took her hooves in his own. His touch burned. “Hey, Twilight, it’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” She hadn’t even told him and already her voice was cracking, already tears were threatening to spill out from traitorous eyes.

Night Light said nothing, waiting for her to be ready. Not rushing her, or even demanding an answer. If she took everything back now he wouldn’t make her tell him what was wrong, she knew that. He’d never make her do anything like that. This was her last chance to back out, to make things right and get rid of this forever.

But his touch was so warm.

“I…”

Last chance.

Twilight swallowed. “I know about the place in Ponyville,” she said.

A flash of something in her father’s eyes. “The… place?”

Her breath trembled. “The one with the blindfolds.”

Silence.

…

Twilight saw the exact moment the glimmer of fear from before became fully fledged in his eyes as it was realised. “Oh shit,” he whispered. “Shit, shit, shit.”

His hooves didn’t let her go, though. If anything his grip on her only tightened. The tears that threatened before finally broke free from Twilight’s eyes, and her father looked ready to do the same.

“Twilight,” he said, in a terrible, broken voice. “Look, I… I can explain. There’s a lot going on here you don’t know about, but I can explain. I can… Oh shit, Twilight.”

He wrapped his hooves around her and pulled her close. Twilight couldn’t bring herself to move, holding herself rigidly as he hugged her.

This was a mistake. This was wrong.

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” came Night Light’s muffled voice from her shoulder. When he pulled back he gripped her hooves tightly again. “I don’t know how you found out, but… Shit, I guess it doesn’t matter. But you have to know that I… It’s…”

He took a deep breath, and then tried to wipe away some of the tears coursing down Twilight’s cheeks, as if that would stop the ones that followed, as if that would stop his own. “I have to tell you the truth, Twilight, I know that, but there’s a lot to this and I don’t know how best to say it. Just… The mare in there wasn’t a… wasn’t a lover. They were… Shit, I don’t even know. Maybe I should just start again, but I don’t want you getting the wrong idea. This wasn’t about love.” Night Light paused. A white hot knife had buried itself in Twilight’s heart, twisting and turning with every word he spoke. Those last ones hurt the most. There was nothing left in her now, just a dark emptiness, and the words that escaped her even before she’d truly registered their significance were so quiet that it was no wonder her father couldn’t hear them.

“I can tell you it was a mistake," he carried on, unknowing. "It was wrong, and I regret every second of it. And I hope that mare found something better as well. Someone more real than that place.”

Twilight couldn't take it anymore, and the rising flood of everything she'd been holding back finally breaking free as she half-shouted, half-screamed the words he'd missed the first time. "It was me!"

And the world stopped.

For a moment there was nothing but Twilight's pounding heartbeat.

Thump.

Thump.

It was a second frozen in time, neither of them even able to breathe, to do anything but stare at the other, Twilight's gaze anxious and tearful, her father's unreadable. And then Night Light's hooves let go, dropping away as he sank backwards into his chair.

“It was…?” he started to repeat, the words trailing off into nothingness before his question could be fully-formed.

Another thick stillness filled the room, Twilight too scared to say anything before she'd seen his reaction, Night Light looking straight through her as he tried to process this revelation. And then, after an eternity, her father shook his head. “No,” he said, as if making it a statement would make it true as well. “No, Twilight, it can't... You can't... Please tell me this is some sick joke. Please.”

Twilight said nothing. She didn't need to; her silence spoke volumes.

“Please, Twilight,” Night Light said again, though now even he didn't seem sure of what he was asking. For this not to be happening, most likely, but it was far too late for that. “Oh, fuck.” His head fell into his hooves.

But still Twilight said nothing. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. This wasn't what she'd wanted.

But whatever did you expect, my little pony? Celestia asked.

Twilight didn't know. Not this. She had no plans for this.

Her father spoke again, and his words trembled. “What... What do you want me to say?”

“Something,” Twilight answered, forcing words out before they could die on her lips, like all the others that went unsaid. “Anything.”

Night Light looked directly into her eyes, and all of the brightness behind his own had gone out of them. “I'm sorry,” he breathed. “I'm so, so sorry.” His voice cracked on the last word.

It was Twilight's turn to pull him in close, Twilight's turn to hold him against her. And then, as he trembled in her hooves, Twilight whispered two words into his ear. Two words that meant everything. The only two words that were right.

“Don't be.”

Night Light froze. “What?”

“I said don’t be.” Twilight smiled through shining eyes. “I’m not.”

“You’re…? Twilight, do you even know what you’re saying?” Night Light pulled away, his voice full of incredulity.

Twilight took another shaky breath, but now it held a tinge of excitement. She knew how to fix this. “I mean, at first I didn’t even know it was you, what with the blindfold. And it was incredible. No one had ever treated me as well there as you did.”

“This isn’t-”

“And then you spoke,” she interrupted, “and I knew it was you. Straight away I knew, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I was gagged and hoofcuffed. How could I have gotten your attention?”

Her father snapped upright, suddenly realising the question wasn’t rhetorical, though he still wore the expression of a pony miles out of his depth. “I… I don’t know.”

“Exactly. I did try to speak through it, but you were so…” She shivered at the memory, before shifting a little closer to him. “I couldn’t do anything but moan, and that only made you go faster.”

Night Light swallowed as Twilight moved even closer. She was barely sitting on her chair anymore.

“And then, after everything, you took off the gag. Do you remember that?”

“Of course I do,” he breathed.

“I could have told you then. But I couldn’t really, could I? What would I have even said?”

“You could have said something!”

Twilight laughed softly, but really it was just a way to cover her movements as she sidled ever closer. Now she wasn’t even touching her seat, but Night Light didn’t seem to have noticed, fixated entirely on her face. “No, I couldn’t, and you know it. What in Equestria would you have done if I’d so much as said your name? I couldn’t speak, but that’s okay because I didn’t want to. I…” Twilight hesitated. Even after all that, this last part was hard. She made it easier by resting her hooves on his shoulders, almost sitting in his lap by this point. Just being this close reassured her, gave her confidence. And this time Twilight knew it was her touch that burned – she could feel the rising heat flush in her cheeks as she relived that night, and thought she could almost see the same in her father’s too.

“I didn’t want you to stop,” she finished in a whisper, so quiet she had to murmur it into his ear.

“Twilight…” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a statement. It was somewhere in between, the last stand of his crumbling resistance, bewilderment giving way to a much more base emotion. She could feel warmth through his fur now, and her body was practically pressed against his.

“I tried to forget,” she began again, continuing her soft murmurs as she trailed her hoof lightly over his shoulder. “But I couldn’t. And then this holiday happened and I didn’t want to come at first because I didn’t think I could handle it. I was kind of right.”

Her father’s breathing was growing heavier, but his eyes were still as wide as saucers.

“Especially when I found you in the bathroom.”

“That was you!?” Night Light shifted beneath her again, but it wasn’t clear if he was actually trying to push her away. His movements were too half-hearted to be sincere.

She nodded. “I didn’t mean to. But then I caught you and you were just out of the shower and I knew you wouldn’t know…”

“I-”

“But now I want you to know. I don’t want to hide this anymore. I can’t.” The hoof that had been playing over his shoulders moved lower, sliding over his back. “I want you.” Twilight was almost wrapped around him, her face centimetres from his. She could feel his breath against her neck, and the gap between their lips slowly and inexorably closed. Closer, closer, so close. She pushed herself against him, and something pressed into her rump. Something hot, and stiff.

Triumph flooded her, but then her view rapidly shifted and Twilight hit the floor, landing hard on her back. It hurt.

“Oh Celestia,” came Night Light’s voice from above her. “I didn’t mean to- Are you okay?”

Twilight looked up at her father, still more confused than anything. One moment she’d been about to kiss him, about to make everything right, and then…

“I’m sorry I pushed you so hard, but… Shit, Twilight. I don’t know what that was, but it can’t happen.”

No. She’d been so close, he’d been right there, wanting her in that wonderful, fiery moment, so why was he doing this?

“You’re my daughter, Twilight.” Night Light was shaking. She could see it, but had no idea how to stop it. “I can’t… We can’t do this.” He took a long breath. Twilight still hadn’t moved, and she could see him torn between helping her to her hooves or fleeing the room. “I know we need to talk about this, but not now. I need time to sort all this out in my head, okay? And I think you need that too.”

But she didn’t. Twilight had had all the time in the world to think this through, and now her father was shattering the one hope she’d let herself keep.

“Don’t go,” she begged.

Night Light didn’t reply as he stumbled out of the room, leaving Twilight so very alone. The floor was cold against her back as she listened to his hoofsteps recede to nothing, dwindling to silence in the manor’s empty halls.

4. Don't You Want Me Anymore?

Twilight couldn’t bring herself to move for a long while. At some point the candles went out.

When she finally stirred from the ball she’d slumped into, leaning against the chair her father had been sat in and feeling his warmth slowly leave the fabric, the room was almost pitch black. The only light came through the windows, from the barest hint of blue staining the sky over the horizon.

She’d stopped crying, too – there was nothing left anymore, and her eyes were dry and sore. Most of her was sore, in fact. That could partly be blamed on sitting in the same position for so long, but beneath that stiffness was a deeper exhaustion that ran right to her bones. Twilight didn’t know how to fix that one.

Go on then, she thought. I know you want to say something.

Celestia’s voice didn’t reply. Neither did the bitter voice, Night Light’s double. Even her conscience had no response for her. For a brief moment Twilight wished the Princess actually was here, or any of her friends. Someone she could rush and hug and just stay surrounded by their hooves. She quickly dismissed that as stupid fantasy, for the same reason she couldn’t do that with any of her family. Long hugs demanded questions, ones Twilight couldn’t answer.

Night Light hadn’t even wanted to touch her at the end. Hadn’t even helped his daughter off the floor because… Why? Because he was scared? Because he was disgusted? Twilight didn’t know. She didn’t think it mattered. Either way it was a far cry from the tight grip he’d had on her hooves before that, from the feel of his chest pressed against her own.

She shook her head. Thoughts like that didn’t help the pangs that kept stabbing through her, driving perilously close to her heart. Didn’t help the dull ache that filled her almost completely, pushing out everything else.

We all fall down sometimes, kiddo. You just have to keep picking yourself up.

Even now she couldn’t get him out of her head, Night Light’s voice calm and gently encouraging. But Twilight had done more than fall down this time. She’d plummeted.

And she wasn’t sure she could pick herself up anymore.

***

Clink.

The sound of cutlery against plates. It set Twilight’s teeth on edge, making her wince every time it sliced through the silence that only she and her father noticed or belonged to, the rest of her family blissfully unaware of the thick atmosphere settling itself between them. Their voices barely reached Twilight, mere background noise as she did her best to not look at her father. She still stole every glance she could, though, chiding herself whenever she did.

Several times she caught him doing the same, their eyes snapping together. Each time she’d immediately avert her gaze, ashamed. She couldn’t believe no-one had noticed that they hadn’t spoken a word to each other all morning. Twilight had barely spoken at all, in fact, dodging all but the most direct questions and answering even those with monosyllables. She didn’t feel like talking. Her voice sounded much too loud.

“And so Cadance’s guard says,” said Shining, grinning already at the coming punchline, “but Princess, we don’t have any Water Buffalo!”

Three-fifths of the table immediately burst into raucous laughter, leaving Twilight fidgeting uncomfortably with a weak smile to pretend she’d been paying attention. Night Light seemed as lost as she was, the same uncertain expression on his face. Twilight doubted she’d be in the mood for laughing even if she had been listening, but the hollow laugh she gave to try and keep up appearances felt even worse than silence, somehow.

If Twilight had thought it hard to be around her father before, that was nothing compared to now. Even just the sight of him at the head of the dining table made her sick to her stomach. It would be easy to dismiss the feeling as anger at his reaction, but Twilight knew it wasn’t.

If anything, she was angry at herself. Angry for rushing when she should have waited. Angry for letting her imagination run away and drag her along with it. No, the closest she could compare that feeling to was dread. An insidious, creeping apprehension that sunk its claws into her mind and refused to let go.

She had no idea what Night Light would do now that he knew. Twilight was losing what little control she’d had on the situation in the first place, and the worst part was that so little had changed. Despite that sickening lurch each time her eyes fixed on him, the old fire still burned. Her gaze still slid down his body, all the way to his flanks until it could go no further, her heart leaping up into her throat. Her emotions pulled her in twenty different directions at once, anger and regret and heartbreak and love and lust all vying equally for her attention, and all getting her nowhere.

A part of her even drew a small, vindictive pleasure from her father’s obvious turmoil. Twilight wasn’t the only one who had to hide it anymore, and for some reason that brought a tiny sliver of comfort to her otherwise hopeless predicament. It was a bitter and hurtful feeling to add to the already over-complicated mix, she knew, but that didn’t make it any less appreciated.

And, worst of all, the rising tension between them was beginning to be noticed. Perhaps only subconsciously so far, but the previously lively conversation had already dwindled to subdued coughs and near-silence, leaving little else but those awful clinks against the china that Twilight hated so much. For the first time since the night before, her father looked directly at her. He’d picked up on it too, his gaze simultaneously accusing and pleading. This is your fault, it said. Help, it said.

Twilight could only turn away, down at her untouched breakfast.

“So, uh…” Shining began, trying to clear the air and failing miserably. “Cadance and I were thinking of heading into the old town nearby. The train goes straight there, if anyone wants to come with us?”

His question was met with a resounding silence, leaving Shining tapping the tabletop awkwardly as it dragged on.

“Guess not,” he said, eventually. “Well, you know where we’ll be, at least. See you all later.”

And with a scrape of chairs they were gone. Velvet followed soon after, but if she said anything Twilight didn’t hear it, so lost in her own tumbling thoughts. She’d barely heard Shining. Night Light was a different matter entirely, his words immediately jolting her back to reality.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and even just the sound of his voice sent a shiver down her spine.

“You keep saying that.”

“I know.” He sighed heavily. “It doesn’t feel any better to me each time, either.”

A long silence. Twilight almost wished for the clinking again, just so there’d be something to fill it.

“I shouldn’t have left you last night,” he said eventually. “I… I panicked.”

Twilight said nothing, biting her lip as Night Light watched her carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. She just kept staring at her uneaten food, maintaining as blank an expression as she could.

“Twilight, please, can you at least look at me?”

No.

Another long pause.

“Come on Twilight, you’re not a foal anymore. You can’t just be silent and hope this goes away.”

And now Twilight did look up, fixing Night Light with a fiery glare. “Isn’t that what you did?”

Her father winced. “That’s not fair.”

“It sounds fair to me.”

“You’re upset, I understand that, but getting angry at me isn’t going to help.”

“Then what is?”

“I don’t know,” Night Light admitted. “Shit, Twilight, I don’t know. I don’t even know if anything can, but we have to try, right?”

Twilight said nothing.

After watching for any hint of emotion, her father sunk back into his chair with a long exhale. “I didn’t sleep last night,” he said, and Twilight thought it was more to himself than to her. “I had to lie beside Velvet, and all I could think about was the way you looked at me. The way you talked, the… Everything. And knowing that I did that to you. Damn it, Twilight, I can’t do this.” His voice was beginning to crack. “You probably don’t realise, but I never went back to… that place. I couldn’t.”

Oh, Twilight knew alright. She knew because she had, countless times, all in the hopes of meeting him again, of having him again. At her lowest the hoofcuffs clicked around her every single night, and yet no stallion had ever even come close to him. No stallion had been him, and once Twilight resigned herself to that fact she’d stopped going entirely. That was over a month ago, now.

“The kicker is,” Night Light continued, slowly now as if each word had to be dragged out of his mouth, “I never went back because I couldn’t help seeing the mares there as somebody’s daughter.”

Twilight stared at him, dumbfounded, the angry sheen draining out of her eyes.

“How could I justify it, with a daughter of my own?” he continued. “Even before you… Even when I didn’t know, that thought haunted me, Twi.”

He’d never called her Twi before. Only ever kiddo, or Twilight.

“It wasn’t that I actually thought you’d be there. Never in a million years. But those mares all had fathers of their own, and to degrade themselves like that… Why, Twilight? Why were you there?”

Twilight swallowed. Her father was looking at her with pure desperation, seeking some rational answer other than the truth; Twilight had gone there because the thought of lowering herself like that sent a warm flush through her even now, made her have to clench her legs a little tighter together beneath the table, remembering the chill touch of the hoofcuffs as Night Light mounted her, claiming her as his own. She couldn’t tell him that – it would break him even more. But Twilight couldn’t lie either. He’d see right through it, and so instead she tried to deflect the question.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she said, and immediately Twilight knew it was the right response.

Night Light froze, before slumping back into his chair in resignation. “I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway. The damage is already done.”

For a long time neither of them said anything, both staring down at the table in front of them, tracing the dark veins which swirled through the wood. Night Light cleared his throat.

“Twilight, did you mean it?” His eyes were shimmering now.

“Mean what?”

“You said you weren’t sorry it happened. I just keep hearing you say that, over and over, and all I can think is that you only said it so I don’t blame myself even more. That’s the only thing that makes sense. I have to know, Twi, did you mean it?”

“Yes,” she murmured, just loud enough, and she could hear the choked breath catch in his throat. “I still do.”

Another silence.

“Are you okay?” Twilight ventured, after a time.

Night Light laughed bitterly. “That’s a hell of a question, Twilight, and I don’t think I’m ready to answer it right now. Before we talk about this I think we both need time. It can’t end the way it did last night.”

The ache in Twilight’s chest stabbed deeper. Night Light dropped his head into his hooves.

He looked so pitiful, sitting alone at the end of the enormous table. So crushed. A wreck of a pony holding on by the barest thread. As Twilight looked over her father, really looking for the first time that morning, she saw the dark crescents under his eyes, the deep lines creasing his forehead.

He didn’t hear her approach, flinching when she first wrapped her forelegs around him. When he opened his mouth to speak Twilight shushed him. He wasn’t ready to talk – he’d said so himself – and so instead Night Light let his daughter hold his head to her chest, closing his eyes as he sank into Twilight’s embrace.

And of course her mind strayed, here with his body so close to hers. Of course she remembered fragments she’d tried to push down and bury, but Twilight didn’t let them surface for long. It was the last thing her father needed to be reminded of right now, even though Twilight’s traitorous heart leapt at the hot touch of his skin against hers.

She knew they’d never mention this again, this moment, the first time her father had ever shown his vulnerability. This time was for now and now alone. This moment was theirs to forget.

Twilight would even pretend she’d never felt his tears, warm and wet against her fur.

***

Click. Click. Click. Click.

Four cuffs, one for every hoof. The sound alone used to make Twilight shudder, but not anymore. Her tail flicked as the attendant passed, but from nervousness, not arousal. Oh, it was still there, a faint tremble beneath her skin, but it was almost nothing.

She shivered in her cuffs. Had the room always been this cold? Twilight thought not, and she wasn’t sure it was all that cold now. It just felt like it.

She stiffened at the metallic screech of the opening and shutting door as the attendant left her very much alone, barely able to move. This was her last try.

She’d been patient, oh so patient, but, as the weeks turned to months, Twilight’s faith in her father’s return had dwindled to almost nothing. If faith alone had been driving her she would have stopped long ago anyway. No, what kept her going back was the heat that filled her each time she remembered his touch on her flank, a warmth that sank through her body all the way to her nethers. The burst of excitement every time she remembered his words, both the coarse and
I’ll come here again
the promise.

The promise most of all.

Minutes ticked by, and Twilight waited. This really was the last time, she told herself, as she had done countless times before. If he didn’t come tonight, then he never would. And, despite everything, when the door squealed open again a flutter of anticipation rose in her chest. Two pairs of hoofsteps now, advancing towards her. The attendant placed the stallion’s hoof on Twilight’s rump, where it immediately began rolling over her skin, and then he quickly vacated, leaving them to their own devices with a final screech from the door.

Immediately a second hoof joined the first, the stallion squeezing and groping her flank, and the cold realisation that Twilight was about to be disappointed once again set in. This wasn’t her father. This stallion was too rough, too uncaring, the grasping hooves entirely for his own benefit. In the past that would have turned her on to no end, being little more than the stallion’s plaything for however long he saw fit. But now? Now she just wanted to get him over with.

The stallion wasted no time in mounting her, and for the first time Twilight realised quite how huge he was. Not just down there (although the heavy warmth resting on her ass suggested he wasn’t lacking in that regard either); the stallion was so big he barely touched her back as he stood over her. And then he pushed her down with his weight anyway, asserting his dominance.

Yes, thought Twilight, rolling her eyes behind the blindfold. You’re SO impressive.

His musk filled Twilight’s senses; the thick scent of aroused male. It made her head spin a little as the stallion pressed against her entrance, sliding up and down her folds. Twilight was far from over-excited, but she could still feel his length dampening as he teased her.

He didn’t wait long before growing tired of his game, grasping her flanks authoritatively as he pulled back to get the right angle. And when he pushed into her all pretence of teasing disappeared, thrusting roughly to the hilt with barely any hesitation. It didn’t hurt, at least, but the stallion clearly had no concern about building her up to it. He just wanted something willing to fuck.

And fuck he did, with only a couple of slow strokes back and forth to warm up before plowing himself into her, his hips slapping loudly and lewdly against her flank with sharp smacking sounds each time. She moaned behind her gag, not out of passion but in the hopes it would get him to finish quicker. Maybe it did.

The stallion didn’t last long. The ones that skipped foreplay rarely did. They were so concerned with themselves that actually trying to last was beyond them, and they barely ever gave a damn about the mare. This one certainly didn’t, a harsh grunt Twilight’s only warning before the stallion gave a final, errant thrust and his warmth began filling her, his length twitching inside as he came.

She trembled as he did so. Even without any hint of climax, his satisfaction still sent slight ripples of pleasure through her body. The initial attraction this place had brought never fully left, after all. Most of it had just been redirected to something – someone – else, and tonight she’d been left wanting once more.

The stallion pulled out with a satisfied groan, his shaft already softening. He didn’t say anything as he kicked the floor three times – his signal to leave – and Twilight didn’t expect him to. He was done with her now, and she reminded herself that this was the last disappointment she’d let herself go through. This wasn’t worth it.

She repeated those words to herself as the door screeched open. This is not worth it.

And despite her best intentions, she returned to the room seven more times before abandoning hope entirely.

***

Twilight watched rain course down the window, crashing against it in a torrent of white noise. With every howl of the wind the glass rattled dangerously in its frame, threatening to break free from its trappings to shatter over the floor.

Three days. That was how long Night Light had avoided her for, how long every meal was spent dodging eye contact, how long her father did his best to talk to her only when absolutely necessary, and only with other family present. If ever there was even the slightest chance of being alone with her, Night Light would find some reason to be anywhere else. Twilight didn’t argue when he made his excuses. What would have been the point? Instead she’d just shrugged and let him go. They both knew he was lying.

From a distance she’d watched as the rings under his eyes grew darker from lack of sleep, as he began to retreat into himself, as she had done at first, too. Twilight remembered staying up until sunrise, etching the same words on parchment over and over in the hopes she might start to believe them if she wrote them down enough times. It was wrong, it was wrong, it was wrong. And yet, when she burned the page so Spike never saw it, she’d relished the sight of the flames turning the words to ash.

That didn’t make watching her father fall apart any easier. Twilight had to believe he’d talk to her soon, that he couldn’t keep letting it eat away at him like this, but as the days passed the chance had seemed more and more bleak. Until this morning. This morning when her father came to the table his previously blank eyes had been replaced by a hard sheen, and after breakfast he’d given her a look. The one she’d been waiting for. The one that said he was ready.

And so Twilight had gone back to the drawing room where they’d shared that first night here, and the other night she’d tried to push out of her mind. She settled herself in one of the armchairs, curling up to watch the rain. She hadn’t had to ask where to meet him; this was the one and only place she’d even considered.

And Twilight waited.

She waited until her legs grew stiff beneath her, until the sound of the ceaseless rain had been reduced to nothing in her ears, and the already sparse light that made it into the room had just begun to darken. Twilight didn’t mind. She’d already waited three days, what was a few more hours? She could wait that long. For him.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Her breath caught. She didn’t turn round, some small part of her afraid that if she acknowledged him he’d turn tail and flee, deciding he wasn’t ready after all, and never would be. But then he rested his hoof on her shoulder.

“Twilight?”

“Hi Dad,” she breathed.

He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leaving her side and settling himself in the chair across from her.

“I don’t really know where to start,” he said. “But I do know we can’t keep going like this.”

Twilight nodded, neglecting to mention how long she’d already held this secret for.

“I think first I need to explain myself,” Night Light began, shifting uncomfortably. “You need to know why I was there. Why I needed… that.” He sighed. “You’ve probably guessed by now, but things between me and your mother aren’t exactly perfect. We both made mistakes, and that was mine. In fact, this holiday was meant to help bring us back together, with all our family here to see what we’d missed. Things don’t ever seem to work out to plan, do they?” Her father laughed bitterly. “I knew that was going to come back to bite me, but to think…”

He edged his chair a little closer to Twilight’s, placing his hooves on her legs.

“Twilight, if I could possibly had known, if I’d even had the slightest doubt… I’m so, so sorry.”

“You should be,” she said, dully.

He nodded in resignation. “And after the other night… Damn it, kiddo, I don’t know what got you like that, but it’s… it’s all my fault. If you could- If even part of you thinks you could forgive me, that’s more than I deserve.”

Twilight shook her head. “I don’t forgive you,” she said, and her father made a small, choked sound. She wasn’t finished. “You never came back.”

“I… what?”

“You told me you would,” she said, tears beginning to sting her eyes. “Before you left, you told me. I’ll come here again. You said that.”

“Twilight, I-”

“And you never did!” Twilight’s anguished shout startled even her. “It was never you, no matter how many times I went back there, no matter how many stallions I let…” She was fighting back sobs now. “You lied.”

Night Light sat reeling in stunned silence. Finally he found words. “I never meant to-”

“You lied!” Twilight saw the helplessness in her father’s face, and she didn’t care. “You lied! You lied! You lied!” She kept repeating that, over and over as Night Light did the only thing he could and wrapped her in his hooves, his embrace doing nothing to stop her outburst. She started hitting his chest, not even truly in protest but because she couldn’t think of anything else to do. Her father made no effort to stop her, cradling Twilight against him as she cried. She hated him, she loved him, she wanted him, and Twilight wished she could hold onto all three emotions at once, even as they tore her apart.

He held her until her tears ran out, until all that was left was drying on her cheeks and against his fur. And when she next spoke her voice was hollow and useless. “I needed you.”

“Twilight…” he began, but it was a sentence with no end.

“The other night,” she said, trembling as she came to terms with her father’s closeness now that the tears had gone, “I didn’t think you were going to stop me. I didn’t want you to.”

He said nothing, though Twilight thought maybe his hooves held her a little tighter.

She pushed a little more. “I don’t think you wanted to stop me either.”

Now Night Light shifted as if to push her away, like he’d done last time. Twilight held his hooves firm, looking up into his eyes, so close to him.

“Damn it, Twi, don’t…” He trailed off.

“Say it,” she said, the words like broken glass. “Say it.”

“You’re my daughter,” he whispered. “My Twilight. We can’t.”

“But you always say it that way,” Twilight insisted. “Always you can’t, we can’t. You never say you don’t want to.”

She could feel his heart beating against hers, feel it quicken when she spoke.

“It’s wrong, Twilight,” he muttered, his hot breath running over her neck. “It’s so, so wrong.” But he didn’t try and push her off him again.

“I don’t care.”

And, as her father held her in her hooves, Twilight placed a kiss gently on the bridge of his muzzle. If she’d thought he’d been tense before, it was nothing compared to the way he froze after that, every part of him becoming like a statue around her. It was just a kiss, the same kind they’d shared countless times before as father and daughter, but of course this time it meant so much more. He looked up at her, eyes wide and unbelieving, and she waited for the inevitable push away.

It never came.

They sat there in silence, a thousand words spiralling through the air but never leaving them, and Twilight took her chance. Trembling, she moved her head down, down, until their lips met. It was little more than a long, gentle touch, barely resting against each other, but it was enough. It was more than enough.

No longer a kiss any daughter should give their father, no longer a little peck on the cheek or the forehead. This was a real, true kiss, and the surrounding air electrified and made all Twilight’s fur stand on end. When she pulled away she was out of breath, and she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding it.

She kissed him again, for longer this time, holding herself as tightly to him as she could. She wouldn’t let him go this time, never again. She had him now, holding him so close as she began to gently press herself down into his lap, unable to stop her hips from rocking back and forth slightly in clear anticipation.

Words were beyond her now, but that didn’t matter. Night Light was holding her in his hooves and that was all that mattered, and she kissed him once more, stealing his breath away. Like the last time they’d been here, she felt him start to stiffen beneath her, felt that hardness pressing into her and sending a warm rush of vindication through her body.

Twilight steeled herself for another rejection, ready for her father to shrug her off, send her sprawling onto the floor again. She knew it was coming, but even as she waited for it she couldn’t resist pressing his growing length between their bodies, feeling its intense heat against the soft fur of her chest. Even if this was to be the last time, she’d take what she could.

The push never came. Instead her father let her keep on teasing, her bucking motions making him gasp at each brush of her fur against him. Shaking, she reached a hoof down, brushing past the side of his stallionhood. Still the push didn’t come, and, emboldened, Twilight took him in both forehooves, beginning to play over it as she thrust herself against him. She was soaked already, and she could feel her own excitement plastering his tail to the chair beneath them. Twilight was sure to be gentle with her touch, though, oh so gentle. Nothing more than teasing so he would be more than ready for her, carefully angling her head down so when she panted out each desperate breath the hot air would roll down his front and over his twitching length.

Now the scent of his arousal hit her, strong and musky. Familiar. It was more than enough to shatter the faint vestiges of Twilight’s restraint, and she began to lift herself up, pressing her marehood up against his length as she did so, biting her lip as memories of hoofcuffs and
fuck this mare sure is tight
blindfolds filled her thoughts. He had been so close to her all this time, but now he was finally hers.

One last look down at her father, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, was enough. And then she was lowering herself onto him, his length easily parting her folds and filling her, Twilight whimpering as she took him in. Everything that had eluded her since that night all those months ago came rushing back; her father – the stallion that had cared for her, looked after her, picked her up when she fell down – was sliding into her and grunting with primal satisfaction, the sound making Twilight tighten around him even more.

Oh Celestia she finally had him right here in her hooves, she finally had him and he was so warm, every part of him blazing like a furnace, and the white noise of the rain had faded to almost nothing against the heavy thump of his heart that Twilight could feel through her own chest, pressed tightly against him.

And this time he knew.

This time he knew all too well that the mare stifling her moans against his fur as she ever so slowly dropped onto him was his little filly, the one who wanted – needed – him so badly that even just having him inside her was enough to nearly push her over the edge right then and there.

This time there were no blindfolds. No secrets. There was only him, and the wonderful sensation as she pushed him ever deeper, shuddering and shaking with every inch.

Finally she could go no further. Twilight took a moment to allow her spinning mind to settle, even though all she wanted was to start rutting Night Light so hard the chair would break. After months of fitful nights spent fantasising, toying with herself in the vain hope it would alleviate even some of her desire, Twilight wouldn’t let herself rush this.

No matter how much she wanted to.

Instead she savoured every moment as she so so slowly began to lift herself up again, even just the tiniest amount sending sparks crackling through her skin, his length pressing against her. Unable to stop herself, Twilight bit down on his shoulder in an attempt to both quiet her lustful moans and to give her some way to resist the tremors that rattled her to the core.

And then, just before coming off of him entirely and already feeling so terribly empty without him, she dropped back down, delighting in the way he twitched inside her as she enveloped him once again.

Even with his eyes closed her father’s excitement was obvious, his breathing coming in sharp hisses through clenched teeth, his grip tightening on the chair’s arms until they creaked. With each of Twilight’s muffled exultations into his neck she could feel him melt a little further into his seat, another twitch inside her. It only made her want to be even louder.

And she had no difficulty with that, she found, as at last she began to take all he offered, rolling her hips against his. It was still slow, still drawing out every moment she could, but Twilight wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold herself back.

He was forgiven. All the sleepless nights, all the unwanted, pathetic stallions. Even his rejection, casting her aside without even seeming to care when her heart shattered. Everything forgiven now, for this. For the trembling wreck he could reduce her to within moments, making her cling desperately to him because it was the only way Twilight could keep even the tiniest grasp on reality against the waves that crashed over her. He was her father, and she was taking him for her own here in this lonely house as the rain hammered against the windows. It couldn’t reach them, but Twilight was sure that if it could it would have turned to steam the second it touched their skin.

And now Twilight let herself speed up, let her hips start to thrust against him rather than her previous gentle motions, feeling him press so deeply into her as she shivered atop him, burying her head into his neck again and decorating it with nips and kisses. Oh Celestia, he was right, this was wrong, this was so so wrong but Twilight didn’t care as long as he could make her feel like this, as long as she could feel so alive in his hooves, every nerve in her body tingling and bringing her climax ever closer.

Twilight let it come, let every slight movement send those sparks through her, let every facet of her father’s features burn into her memory; his eyes tightly closed, teeth gritted, cheeks flushed red. There was so much she hadn’t been able to appreciate with the blindfold – how his muscles tensed under his skin, the look of his mane plastered against his forehead, even just the slightest movements at the corners of his mouth each time she sank down onto him – but now she could take all of him in in stark detail, as jolts of pleasure shuddered through her.

She tried to speak, but all Twilight could manage was a wavering “Haaa…” sound as her thoughts melted together and words became too difficult to focus on. She wasn’t even sure what she’d wanted to say, probably some kind of encouragement or whispered affirmation of her delight that stallions always loved so much. Even her half-moan, half-sigh had a dramatic effect, Night Light twitching inside her and the chair creaking again beneath them as she dug his hooves into the arms once more.

And it wasn’t as though she needed words to show her eagerness, soaking wet and moaning lustfully, tightening around him as much as she could each and every time she took him in. The previous tingles and jolts of pleasure had become so much more intense, each lasting longer and longer as she grew oh so close, and Twilight was more than ready for it. Closer and closer, and now she was rutting him as hard as she could, and it still wasn’t enough, still she wanted more.

And, moments before her frenzied motions pushed her over the edge, Night Light spoke. A single, whispered word that still seemed to echo through the whole room. “Twilight…”

The world exploded, Twilight dropping for the last time at the mention of her name and crying out in one final, unbridled shout of bliss. She was wrapped so tightly around her father, clutching him as she shuddered against his chest, gasping and arching her back as her climax consumed every part of her in its fire, fur standing on end as her mind blanked. Through the haze she felt his length pulse inside her, and then her father’s hooves were pulling her down as he gave one last gasp, shaking beneath Twilight as his warmth filled her so utterly, her already broken thoughts plummeting once again into a mess of lust and pure satisfaction. Again and again he shot into her, and again and again that electric rush blasted through Twilight’s entire body, Night Light’s hooves clutching her tightly against him, his touch the only thing that let her keep even the slightest grasp on reality as everything else was cast aside.

My daughter. My Twilight.

When Twilight finally came down from the impossible height he had brought her to she could do nothing more than lie against him, out of breath, listening to the rain against the windows. It had quieted some, becoming a gentle, continuous pattering sound that soothed her still frantically beating heart. She could feel her father’s through her chest, too, though it had already slowed to a much calmer pace, a steady thump that reassured her in a way Twilight would never be able to explain.

She snuggled closer to him, the only movement Twilight was capable of right now, and for a moment Night Light froze. And then she felt the touch of his hooves on her back as he hugged her. A burst of happiness flooded her chest, and, even if it was just for a little while, Twilight let it fill her, sighing contentedly against him.

The unease would come later, though – a deep sinking feeling that bit into her stomach and refused to let go. She would try and shake it off, not understanding at first, but it would gnaw and gnaw until finally Twilight realised what was wrong. What she had entirely failed to notice, caught up in the moment.

Through it all, Night Light hadn’t even looked at her once.

5. Monday Morning

Twilight didn’t want to go.

She had wanted to, that much she knew. Right up until the night before, when the excitement had melted away and she’d lain awake, a bundle of nerves, dreading the morning sun right up until it peeked through her bedroom curtains. And now she couldn’t summon the courage to shift herself from under the covers, preferring to nestle in their familiar warmth while she still could.

“Twilight?” Her father poked his head around her door. “Come on kiddo, what’re you still doing in bed? We’ve got to leave in an hour.”

Twilight’s response was a quiet, ashamed mutter.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said, I don’t want to go,” she repeated, louder this time.

Night Light frowned in confusion. “What?”

Twilight hung her head. “They’ll laugh at me.”

Stepping into her room and closing the door quietly behind him, Night Light tiptoed around the sprawl of books she’d been studying last night, and settled himself at the end of the bed.

“Now why would they do that?” he asked gently.

“They’re all going to be so much better than me.”

“Of course they won’t,” her father said, resting a hoof reassuringly against her leg. “And they’re going to be just as nervous as you, I promise.”

Twilight hugged her covers tighter around her. “What about the Princess?” she insisted. “If she thinks I’m not good enough…”

Her father sighed, not in exasperation, but in fulfilled expectation. “Twilight, I want to give you something.”

He held out a hoof with a small, grey rock nestled in it. Twilight’s confusion must have showed, because Night Light smiled.

“I thought you might have forgotten,” he said. “It’s the rock you first learned magic with.”

And now Twilight remembered. Kicking away the stone, Night Light returning it over and over. His words, so quietly confident and reassuring, even when she’d been ready to give up forever. After all this time, he’d kept it.

“And now look at you,” her father continued. “Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns doesn’t offer auditions to everyone, kiddo.”

“But-”

“No buts. You didn’t think you could lift up that rock either, and now you can do it without even thinking, right?”

Twilight nodded sullenly. The rock was cool in her hoof, smooth and somehow familiar even now.

“Don’t worry about the other foals. Your mother and I are going to be right there with you.”

“Promise?”

Night Light smiled and hugged her tightly. Twilight sank into his fur, wrapping her little legs around him as best she could. “Always,” he said.

***

“Twilight?”

A hoof nudged her shoulder. For a moment she was still that little filly, being woken by her father, but reality briskly pushed the illusion aside. Night Light’s hooves were around her still, his embrace soft and warm, and she murmured something unintelligible even to herself as she snuggled closer against him.

“It’s morning,” he said.

It took a second for his words to properly sink in, and then she jolted upright, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and staring out the windows, where the sun was already streaming in.

“It’s morning!?” Twilight leapt out of the chair, leaving her father’s warmth behind her as she brushed a hoof frantically through her mane in an attempt to defrazzle it.

“What’s the matter?”

“This is the matter!” Twilight gestured to the room in general. “What will Mom say when she realises you didn’t go to bed last night?”

“Twilight-”

“What if someone tries to knock on my door? What if they realise I was with you? What if-”

“Twilight, stop.” Night Light’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was filled with such weight that Twilight quieted immediately. “Even if all that happens, and we both know that’s unlikely, do you honestly think this is the first thing they’ll imagine?” He sighed deeply. “Dammit kiddo, even I can’t believe we let it get this far.”

But the proof was undeniable; a dark stain on the chair, a deep but not unpleasant ache in Twilight’s hindquarters, one she hadn’t felt for far too long. Still, her father was right. There was no way her family would suspect anything like this.

Flashes of the night before kept darting through her mind – the creaks of the chair beneath them, the heat of his length as he entered her, filling her so completely, each rush of memory accompanied by a small, giddy burst in her chest. Memories of Night Light’s hooves tightening around her, his mane plastered to his forehead, his eyes…

His eyes screwed tightly shut.

Twilight’s excitement faltered. That couldn’t be right, could it? She wanted to remember the way their eyes had locked together, Night Light’s full of as much love and lust as hers undoubtedly were, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t think of a single moment where that had happened. Each instant that had burned itself irreversibly in her mind was filled with her own passion, but in every one Night Light’s eyes were closed, his head tilted away from her. In fact, even now he was staring down at the carpet, his forehead crumpled in thought.

“Dad?” Twilight’s voice was quiet and hesitant. She hadn’t meant it to be, but it betrayed her nonetheless.

“Yeah?” He didn’t look up.

She wanted nothing more than that, for him to look up, but he stayed fixated on the ground. In a last ditch effort to get any reaction at all from him, Twilight trotted across the room and threw her hooves around him in a tight embrace. He shuddered at her touch.

“Damn it, Twilight.”

Twilight… He had whispered her name, she remembered that much. He might not have looked at her, but she still had that.

And then a horrible thought occurred to her, one that sent a thick chill through her body, right to the tips of her hooves. Twilight had remembered the bathroom, how she’d blindfolded her father with the towel before using her magic to sate the both of them. He’d called out “Twilight” then, too, and not for her. Night Light used her mother’s first name so rarely it was no surprise she hadn’t even considered the possibility that he hadn’t been calling out hers. Now, though, the doubt set its talons deeply into her mind, and no matter how tightly she hugged her father she couldn’t shake it off.

And then he hugged her back, but rather than the comforting, fatherly embrace Twilight was used to, Night Light clung to her, burying his head against her neck. This was wrong, this was all wrong, this wasn’t how she’d imagined it at all. Her father shook in her hooves, shuddering against her as Twilight tried to ignore the damp patches his eyes were leaving on her fur. She wished she had something to say. He always did, whenever she needed him, but now the tables were turned and Twilight had no words to give. Everything she thought of seemed so shallow and useless.

And so Twilight fought back her own tears in silence, stroking her father’s mane as he sobbed into her shoulder.

I’ve made a mistake.

***

Dear Princess Celestia,

The letters sat heavily on the page, taunting Twilight as she stared down at them and the vast emptiness on the parchment beneath. So much space for so many words, and none seemed to be the right ones. How could she even start a letter like this?

Twenty minutes later the page remained empty. Twilight groaned and let her head fall forwards, hitting the desk with a thump. She couldn’t do it. Even if she knew exactly what to write, exactly how to put the vicious storm of feelings plaguing her into words, Twilight couldn’t have done it. Writing the letter was one thing, sending it another entirely. She shuddered as she imagined Celestia’s reply.

A soft knock at her door broke Twilight out of her stupor, and for a second she tried to cover up the nearly-blank parchment, as if whoever was outside would somehow be able to read the shameful things Twilight had been trying to put on it.

“Twilight?” Her mother’s voice. “Can I come in?”

No.

“Yes,” she answered. The door swung open and Velvet stepped inside, shutting it quietly behind her.

“Hey honey,” Velvet said, settling herself at the end of Twilight’s bed, across from her. Twilight didn’t turn around. “I was starting to wonder where you’d gotten to.”

Twilight said nothing, staring intently at the page in front of her. The pregnant silence sat heavily in the air as she waited for her mother to try and break it again.

“Writing a letter to the Princess?” Velvet asked, eventually.

Twilight nodded.

“Good, that’s… That’s good.” Another pause. Twilight still couldn’t bring herself to look around, though the blank page offered little comfort instead.

“You really should open those curtains,” her mother ventured, obviously trying to evoke even the slightest reaction from her daughter. “It’s so dark in here.”

Wordlessly, Twilight’s horn lit up, and the curtains swished to the side, letting the midday sun stream in through the windows. It stung Twilight’s eyes, and she winced. She was expecting something along the lines of ‘See, isn’t that better?’ to follow, but it never came.

“You haven’t, um…” Velvet bit her lip. “Have you spoken to your father at all today?”

A weight dropped through Twilight’s stomach. Did she know? Surely she couldn’t, there was no way, how could she possibly know?

“Nope,” she answered, trying to make it as natural as possible. To Twilight’s ears, it sounded anything but.

“Oh.”

A long pause, the moments ticking past as Twilight waited with bated breath, dreading her mother’s next words. Finally she spoke.

“Because he’s barely left our room at all either, and I wondered if…” She trailed off, before shaking her head dismissively. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

The wave of relief that washed over Twilight was tainted with uncertainty. No, her mother didn’t know, but it sounded as though Night Light was as torn up about it as she’d feared. Twilight turned to find her mother staring down at her hooves, lost in thought. Finally, she forced herself to speak, and her voice was husky and hollow. “Are you okay, Mom?”

The twisted voice was quick to pipe up. She wouldn’t be if she knew what you and your father did last night.

Shut up.

Her mother gave a start at her voice, and for a second Twilight thought she’d said that last bit out loud.

“Hm? Oh, of course I am honey, it’s you that I’m wor-” Velvet cut herself off, biting her lip nervously. “I mean, yes, I’m fine.” If she wasn’t unconvincing already, the nervous way she cleared her throat cast away any last doubt.

The silence stretched on, Twilight shifting awkwardly in her seat, staring at the waste bin beside the desk that was overflowing with crumpled up failures. None of them had anything incriminating written on them, at least – she’d never managed to get past more than two words anyway.

Still, the terrible pangs of guilt insisted her mother knew anyway. Even though she couldn’t have, even though this couldn’t be the way Velvet would react if she found out. Twilight kept straying to visions of her mother beneath Night Light, bent over the bed as Twilight stared through the crack of the wardrobe, unable to do anything but watch, unable to turn away even if that was all she wanted to do. Except in these memories Velvet was staring straight at her, a look of pure heartbreak on her face, tears falling from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. That wasn’t how it happened, of course, but Twilight saw it anyway.

Twilight tried to look at her mother now, she really did. Tried to look the mare that raised and loved and cared for her in the eyes… and failed. Each time she stole a glance at Velvet, a fresh flood of guilt poured through her, almost threatening to drown her in it. Something lay beneath the guilt, too. A darker, sicker emotion that bubbled wickedly under the rising tide.

Jealousy.

Twilight, she heard her father groan, as she took him to the hilt again and again, the chair creaking so loudly beneath them Twilight thought it might break. Twilight, he breathed, hooves clattering uselessly against the cold bathroom tiles as Night Light called out to his wife. Twilight. She wasn’t so sure of the difference any more.

“I’m sorry, Twilight.” Velvet’s voice shattered the memories. “I really am. I thought this holiday would be better. I thought it would help.”

An unspoken offer hung in the air. You can talk to me, it said. I’m your mother, I’ll listen. And despite everything, it was still somewhat tempting. Twilight could almost fool herself into believing Velvet would understand, that she would forgive, that she would comfort. Almost.

But no matter how much she wanted to believe that, no matter how much she wanted to throw caution to the wind and finally shake the mounting pressure in her chest, the fact remained: she had slept with Velvet’s husband, her own father, and there was nothing in Equestria that would or could make her mother understand or sympathise. For all the comfort Velvet tried to offer, Twilight alone knew how empty that promise was. Velvet couldn’t help, and her father couldn’t either.

No, this was her burden, and it wasn’t going to simply disappear. That was a fantasy, the kind foals told themselves because they knew that inevitably someone else would make it right. And she’d been trying to find that someone, even now. As if Celestia could swoop down and make everything okay again, a scared little foal’s hero.

“I know you didn’t really want to come,” Velvet spoke slowly, as if each word had to be pried out. “I just thought it might help if you were with your family, whatever it is. That, and some more selfish reasons.” Velvet shook her head. “But it’s not what I thought it would be, and I’m sorry.”

This was not what Twilight had expected. She’d already mentally prepared herself for an inevitable lecture about making the most of their vacation, of getting out of her stuffy room and spending time with the family. Wasn’t that what they were here for, after all?

But faced instead with apologies she didn’t really understand, Twilight was left with no idea how to respond. The words rose again in her mind, this time spoken softly in Celestia’s voice. You’ve made a mistake.

I know, Twilight answered, as Velvet continued to stare out the window. I know I have, but I don’t know if I can fix it.

But of course you can, the Princess answered. You’re the only one who stands a chance.

Her mother spoke again, and her voice was barely more than a whisper. “If you want to leave, we can,” she said. “I don’t want to keep you here if you don’t want to stay.”

But Twilight’s expression had hardened, finally able to look her mother in the eyes. “No,” she replied. “I want to.”

And of course that was a lie, but Twilight couldn’t leave now, not with her family threatening to crumble around her at any moment, and with it all being her fault. She had to fix this.

If only she knew how.

***

Be calm, Twilight.

She didn’t even know whose voice that one was. Her own, maybe; her internal voices had all become so hopelessly amalgamated it was often impossible to tell them apart now. Still, Twilight wished she could take its advice, nervously shifting her weight from hoof to hoof.

Her ‘plan’ was simple. Well, simple on paper, at least. The execution would be a lot more difficult. She shifted her weight again, and to an outside observer the carpet would have indented from seemingly nothing. The invisibility spell was one she’d used a fair few times, mostly for benign things like sneaking snacks without Spike being able to silently judge her, or helping Pinkie pull off her ridiculous pranks. Tonight it served a much bleaker purpose.

It had been nearly an hour since her parents had gone to bed. She knew this because they were right in front of her, their now-sleeping forms wrapped tightly under the covers. They slept facing away from each other, and another guilty twinge had hit Twilight when she saw that. She’d even brought earplugs so she could turn away and avoid another ‘wardrobe incident’, but tonight her parents had barely even looked at each other, with only the most cursory of ‘good night’s.

A single shaft of moonlight sliced between the curtains as Twilight tiptoed towards the bed, illuminating her briefly as she faded back into view with a quiet fizzle. She was close enough to her father now that she could reach out and touch him if she wanted, and the thought was filled with bitterness. It seemed to sum up everything wrong in so many ways, everything she wanted so close that Twilight could almost wrap her hooves around it, only for it to fade away like smoke just as she thought it was finally in her grasp.

For a long while Twilight did nothing. She wanted to believe it was to steady her nerves, and it was close enough to the truth that Twilight could almost convince herself. But when she couldn’t stand to look at him anymore, she knew it was time. She’d been so foolish, Twilight knew that now. Foolish to expect even the slightest return of affection, of desire. She’d been so blinded she hadn’t even truly seen his reluctance until afterwards, and of course by then it was far too late. The knowledge that he would never – could never – feel the same way drove ice shards into her heart, but it hurt her even more to see the pony she loved this broken.

And so, after everything, Twilight was going to take it all away again.

She swallowed. Memory spells were more than merely frowned upon. A unicorn found guilty of attempting to use them faced eternal banishment, and that was if the Princesses were feeling particularly forgiving. They might be inclined to just lock her in the dungeon and throw away the key. And even before all that, the spells were famously difficult. So many variables, so many things to get wrong. Ponies had gone mad after they’d been performed incorrectly. Others had forgotten years of their life. The book Twilight had pored over during several of her stints in the Canterlot archives had been very… explicit in those failures, presumably to dissuade the reader from actually putting the spells into practice. In general, though, the simpler the better, and so Twilight had decided to just entirely wipe the last five days from her father’s mind.

Her confession, his rejection, her persistence, his acquiescence. All of it gone, for him at least. She’d still have to bear that terrible weight, still let those embers smoulder in her chest, probably never to fade entirely. And every time she saw him after, they’d flare once again, and Twilight could never even tell him why she found it so hard to look at him. This was the cost for that night, and if Twilight was honest with herself she’d gladly pay it again and again and again, if only it didn’t hurt him so much as well. If only it didn’t hurt everyone, without them even knowing why.

Twilight steeled herself. Five days. No more, no less. Even something that simple required utmost concentration; nothing could be allowed to go wrong. Magic rushed into her horn at the merest thought, filling it with familiar power. She could lose herself in the intricacies the spell demanded, at least, weaving the magic in her mind as she drowned out everything else, demanding nothing less than perfection. All too soon she was ready, the spell needing only to be released into her father’s sleeping mind. Then this would be over.

Do it, Celestia’s voice commanded. Do it now, fix this while you still can, don’t hesitate.

But Twilight did.

What if I’ve done the spell wrong? What if I’m making an even worse mistake?

Night Light shifted slightly beneath her, the shadows of his face brought into stark relief beneath the purple glow of her magic.

You’re making excuses, Twilight. This may be your last chance to stop this.

Twilight bit her lip, It would be so easy to let the spell go now, to watch the magic sink into her father and erase everything.

But she didn’t want to.

She didn’t want him to forget the kisses. She didn’t want him to forget how they’d made love, or the night spent wrapped in each other’s hooves. She didn’t want to give that up for the world.

You have to, Twilight. And was there a slight hint of panic in Celestia’s voice now? Twilight thought there might be, and she took a sadistic pleasure from it. You know you can’t let this carry on. He’s your father, and no matter what you desire, you can’t have him.

But-

He isn’t yours, Twilight. And he never will be.

Tears coursed freely down Twilight’s cheeks, the cool night air making her shiver.

It isn’t fair.

It was such a foalish thought, but Twilight couldn’t help it. He was the only stallion she’d ever wanted, ever needed this much, and he could never feel the same way, and the thought had burned a hole right through her.

It isn’t FAIR.

Of course it isn’t, my little pony. But what is?

Twilight hung her head. Of course Celestia’s voice was right. This was the right thing to do, perhaps the only right thing. She looked up again, meaning to get one last glimpse of her father before unleashing her magic, only to come face to face with him looking right back at her, his eyes wide in surprise.

Twilight yelped, stumbling backwards as the bolt lanced out from her horn unintentionally. She heard her father grunt as she fell to the floor, and a wave of instant regret and panic slammed into her.

“Kiddo?” Night Light asked, blearily.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do it, I wasn’t really going to, I’m sorry!” Over and over again Twilight apologised in a cracked whisper through choked back sobs, knowing he wouldn’t even understand.

And now he was hugging her anyway, still warm from the bedcovers, and Twilight couldn’t stop crying like a little foal, no matter how many times her father told her it was alright, whatever it was, and everything was going to be okay.

***

The castle was even bigger than she could possibly have imagined, all imposing stone and towering archways. Everywhere they went everyone seemed impossibly busy, rushing around so quickly that Twilight was sure she would have been trampled underhoof were the little filly not nestled between her parents as they walked. All of this did little to calm the tightness in her stomach.

And as they approached the massive double doors they’d been directed to, her chest clenched almost painfully tightly. She couldn’t do this, there was no way she could. She wasn’t ready, she wasn’t good enough, there was so much more she could have studied, there was-

Before she melted down completely, a hoof landed on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You holding up okay there, kiddo?”

Twilight nodded. Her father remained fully unconvinced.

“Hey Velvet, we’ll see you inside, okay?”

Velvet exchanged a concerned glance with her husband, before her expression softened in understanding. “Okay honey.”

As he mother disappeared through the doors, Night Light pulled Twilight into a quiet alcove. “Now, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes.”

“Because you look like you’re about to have a panic attack.”

Twilight shrank down into herself even more. “W-what?” She tried to laugh, but the sound that came out was so nervous that even she winced. “No, I’m fine. It’s only the most important thing that’s ever going to happen to me and I could just mess it up and never get into Celestia’s School and everyone will laugh at me and I’ll have to give up magic forever and-” Twilight caught herself, but the damage was already done.

But instead of being annoyed at her obvious lie, Night Light just smiled. “It’s okay to be nervous, Twilight. Anyone would be in your position.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“Maybe not, but I can promise you that you’ll be fine.”

Twilight scowled at the floor. “You don’t know that.”

“Of course I do. And you know what?” Her father’s hoof lifted her chin up to look at him. “It doesn’t even matter what I think, because you know you can do it too.”

“Huh?”

“You wouldn’t have come all this way otherwise, would you?” He moved closer to her ear, dropping his voice to a whisper. “And between you and me, I think you’ve got a better shot than all the other foals put together.

“Why’s that?”

Her father pulled back, a wide grin on his face. “Because you’re my daughter, and I’ve seen how good you are. No matter what happens today, I’m proud of you kiddo, and your magic is going to take you so far.”

He gave her one last brief hug, and then together they walked through the doors, a pair of stoic-faced guards closing it behind them.

***

Night Light frowned at the pillow sitting between them, a black mark scorched into its covering where the magic had struck it.

“An inch closer…” He trailed off.

“I know,” said Twilight, staring numbly at her hooves. “I know, I know, it was stupid.”

“Would… would it have worked?” her father asked.

Twilight nodded. “I think so.”

Night Light said nothing.

They’d moved into a different, nearby bedroom, her father gently urging her to leave before she woke up Velvet. It hadn’t taken Twilight long to realise her wayward spell had missed its target. He still remembered, and in pure relief Twilight had broken down and told him everything.

Night Light’s expression was utterly inscrutable, staring intently at the retrieved pillow.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight repeated hollowly.

“I know you are,” he said. “But I still can’t believe a mare as smart as you could do something so stupid.”

His words stung, even more so because Twilight knew he was right.

“You can’t just magic all your problems away, kiddo. Nothing’s that simple.”

Now it was Twilight’s turn to say nothing, mollified.

“And this is too big to sweep under the rug like that. I don’t think you’d be able to bottle all this up again anyway, not anymore.”

There was a ‘but’ coming, Twilight could feel it. She knew what it would be, too: a final confirmation that the night they’d shared together would be a one time thing and nothing more, never spoken of again. And even though she hated it, Twilight had to agree with him. She’d already been prepared to throw it away, and now even though it still left a bitter taste in her mouth, she could accept it. It was already more than she deserved.

Night Light was clearly struggling to find the words, and so Twilight tried to speak for him. It was the least she could do.

“Dad, I think-”

“No.”

His interruption was so unexpected that Twilight immediately stopped talking.

“No,” he repeated, “let me finish.” Her father took a deep breath. “You were right, back then. That night.” And now he looked directly at her, their eyes meeting. “I didn’t want to stop you.”

Twilight blinked in surprise, her chest suddenly clenching tight.

“Or at least, not all of me wanted to. But that was enough to haunt me, Twilight. Enough to keep me up at night, wondering what was wrong with me.”

He reached out a hoof, gently touching it to Twilight’s face.

“I tried to put a stop to it before it got any further, I really did. But you were hurting so much, Twilight, and I didn’t… I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t mean to let it get this far.”

A pause, a long, trembling exhale.

“But now that it has, locking it away isn’t good for either of us.” He nodded at the burned pillow. “And at this rate, everyone’s going to notice.”

He shifted closer, so close that their muzzles were almost touching. Twilight had completely stopped breathing.

“I’ve been a terrible father,” he said, quietly.

“I think I’ve been a worse daughter,” Twilight answered and, despite everything, Night Light managed a pained laugh.

“Maybe we deserve each other,” he said, and the tightness in her chest twisted so hard it was almost painful. But it was a good kind of pain, the kind she never wanted to leave.

No. Celestia’s voice was harsh and firm. You were going to stop this, Twilight. This won’t help you.

Her father’s hoof reached up and brushed through her mane. “If you really still want this, Twilight, I’m here.”

Stop it, stop this, you’re only making it worse, you’re only going to-

Shut up.

This was a new voice. Calm and warm, so filled with authority that even Celestia was instantly silenced. Twilight didn’t struggle placing it. How could she not recognise Night Light?

She shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t. Twilight had been so close to giving him up, to finally moving on, and a part of her still held tightly to that ideal, but now she knew it was impossible. Now his eyes had found hers, filled with… not eagerness, exactly, but at the very least willingness. Acceptance.

And the barest hint of excitement.

Still scarcely able to believe it, Twilight moved first, closing the gap between them and bringing him close for the inevitable kiss. He was still hesitant, giving the slightest, instinctive movement away as their lips touched, but Twilight soon banished his doubts by wrapping her hooves around him. His reservations melted away at her eagerness, sinking into Twilight’s embrace as a surge of triumph flooded her.

Celestia, what had she been thinking, trying to deny herself this? This was all she wanted – this, forever. Every touch lasted for an age, each press of his hoof seeming to remain on her skin long after it had moved away, burning into her memory, a hot flush filling her cheeks as he finally broke the kiss and pulled away, both of them needing to catch their breath.

Their next kiss was gentler but just as intense, and almost without really meaning to Twilight and her father found themselves at the foot of the bed, their momentum carrying them over and dropping onto it together, Night Light’s weight pressing down on her chest, holding her there as his lips brushed against her neck. It was far from uncomfortable, though; it felt right. Her stallion, laying her down and mounting her, asserting himself as her mate. This was what she had been waiting for, and only now did she realise what a poor imitation their previous encounter had been.

Now Night Light was the attentive lover that any mare would dream of, his kisses whispering against her fur, sending ripples of excitement down her back. His hoof gently working its way over her thigh, trailing up her leg, closer and closer. And when its torturously slow ascent reached its apex and brushed against her marehood, Twilight clutched him tighter, a harsh gasp escaping as they finally broke the kiss. She could feel the heat that had flooded her cheeks, filling the rest of her body too as his hoof strayed away again, that teasing touch as fleeting as it could be. Even Night Light’s face was flushed slightly, and he made no attempt to hide his mounting excitement as he pressed his lips to hers once more.

This, this is what it should have been like. No more reluctance, no more screwing his eyes tightly shut to avoid looking at her. Now Night Light wanted her, his desire obvious in the multitude of kisses he planted on her skin, in the way his hooves roamed over her flanks, squeezing and grasping, and every part of her body craved and delighted in his attentions. His length lay between them, hot and so stiff, twitching eagerly every time she moved beneath him and the fur of her stomach brushed against it. She’d do it intentionally just to get that reaction, but his touch was enough to make her squirm anyway.

And then he whispered in her ear; three words that made her already full heart threaten to burst.

“Are you ready?”

As if she wasn’t, as if she hadn’t been for all these months, dreaming of the time he would take her again. There weren’t even words in her vocabulary to describe just how ready she was, how desperate and wanting, and so Twilight simply nodded, biting her lip. A moment of fervent anticipation as he positioned himself, and then he was pushing into her, Twilight unable to stifle the moan as her father slid inside. And it was different this time. This was slow and tender and loving against the desperate rutting she’d taken from him before. Now he nuzzled against her, just as she did to him, and as he slowly thrust forward his hooves continued to play over every inch of her that they could reach and caress. Now his desire was as obvious as hers, and their bodies were on fire, and everywhere he touched burned.

And when their hips met, Twilight wrapped her hindlegs around him, silently pleading for him to stay there, to give her just a moment to try and collect her thoughts as he filled her so wonderfully. But Night Light refused, already pulling back as Twilight squeezed desperately around his length, her body begging him to remain buried inside her. He didn’t deny her for long, though, and soon he was pressing into her again, leaving her shuddering beneath him.

No hiding anymore. No more denial, or hesitation. Night Light’s eyes were wide open, and Twilight almost thought she could see her own face reflected in their lust-glazed surface, her mouth wide open, panting for breath as he thrust into her again and again. He had been hers, and now she was his as she had been the first time. His hooves were gripping her midriff so tightly that Twilight wondered if they might leave marks under her fur, and she didn’t care. Part of her hoped they would. They’d be reminders that this was real, because even now she couldn’t quite believe it herself.

But it was real, it had to be, because even in her most perfect fantasies Night Light hadn’t been so attentive, so passionate and receptive. Whenever he brushed against that wonderful spot inside her that made Twilight shudder and jolt, he’d adjust himself so that for the next few moments Twilight was assaulted over and over, all the while one of his hooves toying with her clit and turning Twilight into a quivering mess. And then – just as she could take it no more – he would ease off and return to his normal rhythm, giving Twilight just enough time to calm slightly before doing it all over again.

This was so much more than the savage rutting from both times before. This was making love, and the fact that it was her father above her simultaneously didn’t matter and was the most important thing in the world. What really mattered was that it was him, that it was Night Light, and nothing else.

Twilight remembered the blindfold, the hoofcuffs, the way they’d scuffed along the floor with each of her father’s thrusts. That was the last time he’d been this passionate, as lost in the moment as she was. But now even that seemed like a pale imitation as he bore down on her, his teeth gently grazing her neck with every other kiss, clutching her mane in his hooves, his length as hard as steel within her, each thrust driving deeper and deeper and pressing against her walls so perfectly, as though he was made to be there.

The air was rich with the smell of their lovemaking, thick with sweat and musk to the point that it made Twilight’s head spin. Every time he entered her she shook with delight and raw lust, and every time he pulled back he left her feeling so empty, clamping down around him to draw him back inside, begging him not to leave her again.

And now a weakness began to work its way up her hindlegs, bringing with it familiar twitches and a building excitement. She had to call out to him, partly to warn him how close she was, and partly because she still couldn’t believe her fantasy had finally been made real after being so ready to abandon it. Night Light. The stallion who had been there for her for so long was here for her now, in ways no-one would ever understand but them. She only had one name for him.

“Dad,” she breathed, barely more than a whisper.

In many ways, it was a final roll of the dice. One last test to see if he really wanted this as much as she did. Even though she hated it, Twilight half-expecting that to be too much for him, for him to stop and leave in disgust, muttering half-hearted apologies.

If anything he only grew more eager at her words, burying his muzzle against her neck with a groan. He was close now, she knew. His thrusts were shorter and quicker, and his tight grasp on her was beginning to slip. He let out a low grunt, and then…

“Twilight…” And now she knew for certain – it was for her.

It had always been for her.

Twilight’s orgasm hit her like a wall, her mind spiralling into a whirlwind mess of euphoria and love. Somewhere in the haze his kiss found her, the only thing still tethering her to reality as her body threatened to sweep her mind away completely, and she returned it eagerly even as she spasmed beneath him.

Night Light didn’t last much longer, giving one last, powerful thrust as he came deep inside her, the impossible heat that filled her waiting marehood only spurring her to greater and greater heights. And when at last her senses returned to her, Night Light was already lying beside her, breathing hard and wiping the sweat from his forehead.

More kisses now as she snuggled into him, just like she’d done as a little filly, nestled safely in his hooves. She rolled over, her back to him, before sidling back into his warm embrace, Night Light draping a hoof over to rest against her stomach as he pulled her in tight.

Luna’s moon was almost full that night, and it shone brightly through the window at the exhausted lovers. The lanterns had long since died, forgotten and ignored, and Twilight felt like she could see every single star that sparkled in the black sky. The telltale sound of magic came from behind her, and the curtains were surrounded by a soft, blue glow.

“Don’t,” she murmured, and after a moment her father’s magic faded. “I want to look for a bit longer.”

She felt him shrug, his chin coming to rest on the top of her head as they lay there, stargazing together. His breathing had become a slow, calm rise and fall, and she could feel his heartbeat against her back.

For the first time in far too long, wrapped in pale moonlight and her father’s hooves, Twilight smiled.

6. F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E.

“Oh fuck.”

Night Light hissed sharply, clutching Twilight’s mane as she gave his length another long, lascivious lick. His entire body trembled at her whim, Twilight able to make him buck his hips at the merest hint of her breath against him. Even in such a submissive position she had absolute power over him, and Twilight revelled in it.

She grinned mischievously. He must be close now, but seeing just how long she could keep him there was too much fun.

Twilight took him into her mouth, tasting every inch of him she could as his hips gave another quick, involuntary buck. She answered with even more teasing licks, rolling her tongue around him gently as Night Light shuddered again.

“Twilight…”

Oh goddess she loved hearing him say her name like that; a helpless, murmured exultation as her tongue traced its way over his skin, letting his musky scent fill her head. She couldn’t say anything back, preoccupied as she was, but she smiled around him and felt his length twitch in response.

Each of his shuddering gasps only excited her more, only made her want to taste more of him, to have him push into her mouth and drive him closer and closer to the edge with her reverent licks. And her father gave her all that and more, and even in her most lustful imaginations Twilight had never imagined it being this perfect, so in line with her deepest desires and needs.

“I’m close,” Night Light murmured, but she knew that already. She knew from the way his length twitched between her lips. She knew from the way his breathing became quicker and shallower, and how his clutch on her mane tightened almost enough to hurt.

She remembered the blindfolds again, how he’d presented himself with nothing but his wonderful scent to guide her, tasting herself on him as well, and how he’d pulled away just as he’d started to get hard again.

Clean it.

She remembered the bathroom, staring longingly across at who she thought she could never have, toying with the idea of taking even the slightest chance to run her tongue over his stallionhood again, fighting her lust and holding herself back through sheer force of will.

She didn’t have to hold back this time.

And so she took him as deep as she could, a desperate plea that he answered almost immediately. Night Light gave one last violent shudder, his hips lurching forward as his length pulsed in her mouth and warmth splashed against her tongue.

She swallowed, still with him in her mouth, her tongue still caressing his sensitive flare and making him twitch and squirm. When she finally pulled back, at last releasing his softening length from between her lips, it was with a faint pang of reluctance and longing for more, the sharp taste of his climax still lingering and filling her with twisted excitement. Twilight wasn’t surprised to feel a small damp spot on the carpet beneath her, and a large part of her wanted to jump him and have him rut her until she could barely walk straight. But this had been for him. There’d be time for her later.

And so instead she hopped onto the bed beside him, snuggling close as he came down from his orgasm and doing her best to ignore the incessant ache between her legs that demanded so much more. The next time they made love would be even better after this restrained denial, and Twilight knew she could wait that long.

She’d already waited months, after all.

Her father lay staring up at the ceiling, one foreleg hooked over her shoulders as she nestled into his chest, the other running gently over her leg. He used to do the same back when she was a foal, if ever he took too long to get out of bed in the mornings and Twilight ran in to wake him up. He’d always protested, eventually pulling her tightly to him just like now, usually eliciting a childish squeak of surprise and feigned reluctance. And more often than not they’d fall asleep like that, until Velvet would wake them again and jokingly chide their laziness, ignoring Twilight’s protests that she’d tried to get her father out of bed. And of course, even back then Twilight knew she would have been put out if Night Light ever did get up at her request. She’d just wanted the hugs.

He shifted beneath her, the movement dragging her out of her memories. “How are you feeling, kiddo?” he asked.

“Better,” she replied. And she was. The night before was a blur of excitement and love and sex, and even just thinking back to it made her already warm cheeks burn redder, made her have to clench her hindlegs together just a little tighter.

“Good.” There was an air of satisfied finality to his words, but then he sighed heavily. “Because I don’t think there’s any going back on this anymore. For either of us.”

Twilight nuzzled into his neck. “Would you want to?”

He didn’t answer right away, his hoof tracing small, slow circles against her shoulder. “No,” he said eventually, another flutter of excitement rising through Twilight. “Even if I could.”

“I wouldn’t either,” she replied, and Night Light smiled. It wasn’t until he did so that Twilight realised how long it had been since she last saw him smile like that, so warm and honest.

“But,” he said, and the flutter was replaced by a pang of nervousness, “we have to be so careful, kiddo.”

“I know we do,” she replied.

“Do you? Because every time I think about what would happen if anyone found out about this – us – I realise it’s even worse than I’d imagined. You’re Celestia’s personal student, an Element of Harmony and sister to a Prince. You’re an important pony, and if this ever got out…”

“It won’t,” Twilight said firmly. “We’ll make sure it won’t.”

“Nobody ever thinks they’re going to get caught, Twilight. That’s the definition of the word. And even putting aside all that political stuff, this would destroy Velvet and your brother if they ever knew. Especially Velvet.”

Twilight frowned. “How would they even find out?”

“That’s not the point. We can’t get complacent just because it’s unlikely. Around anyone else we need to be father and daughter, and nothing more.”

“I know, Dad.”

Night Light gave her a hard stare, before nodding in resignation. “I know you do.” His expression softened, and he pulled her into a tight hug, which Twilight gladly received. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” He took a deep breath, and shook his head. “I love you, Twilight.”

Twilight’s chest clenched impossibly tight. “I love you too.”

And she meant every word more than any she had ever spoken before.

***

Shining Armor lifted a hoof and pressed it to his temple. “Seriously? Again?”

“Maybe you should try a different game, BBBFF. I don’t think this one’s your forte.”

Her brother looked ready to snap the pool cue in half. From the corner came an amused giggle as Cadance snickered into her hoof.

“It’s not a rematch if it’s a different game,” Shining replied through gritted teeth. “It wouldn’t count.” He gazed forlornly at the last couple of remaining balls on the table. “I always get so close, too…”

“Well unless you want to lose a best of five we’re going to have to play something else anyway.” Twilight scanned the games room, her eyes settling on one thing in particular and lighting up. “Chess?”

The board she’d spotted looked ancient, but meticulously well kept. Each army was carved from its own, unique wood, every piece immaculately polished and preserved. She didn’t dare to hazard a guess as to how old it must be.

“The last time I beat you at chess was when you were five,” Shining said. “And I’m pretty sure I cheated.”

Twilight pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“I’d be even less fun to play against, trust me.”

Cadance suddenly piped up from her seat. “I’ll play.”

Quick to intervene, Shining frantically shook his head. “You don’t want to play against Twilight. She’s a demon at it.”

Cadance gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I’m glad my husband has so much faith in me.”

“Hey, whatever, don’t let me stop you. But don’t get mad when Twily kicks your-”

His wife raised an eyebrow.

“Er… wins,” he finished lamely.

“I’m not that bad,” Cadance growled, giving him a particularly threatening glare. “I used to play against my aunt all the time, and I even won a fair few.”

Twilight was impressed. Even she’d only beaten Celestia a handful of times.

“And besides,” the princess continued, grinning wickedly, “you need somepony to defend your honour…”

Shining scowled, but it was clear he knew he was beaten. “Fine. I’ll leave you two to it.” With that he stormed out the room, leaving Cadance to roll her eyes as she trotted over to the board.

“And that’s why we never play games like this at home,” she said.

Twilight nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, Shining’s always been really competitive.”

“Which is surprising, because he never seems to win anything.” Cadance chuckled before turning her attention to the board between them. “Do you want to flip a coin or something?”

“No, it’s okay, you can be white.”

Cadance thought for a moment before grabbing one of the pawns and marching it forward across the checkered battlefield. “So,” she said. “Good news from your stallion I take it?”

Twilight froze mid-move. No, no, no, how much did she know? How much could she know? Had she and Night Light really been that obvious? Had they-

Cadance burst into laughter, breaking Twilight’s panicked train of thought. “Princess of Love, Twilight, it comes with the occupation. And right now you’re practically radiating it.” As Twilight did her best to calm her breathing, Cadance jumped her knight over a row of pawns. “I have to admit, though, when I said ‘go for it’ I assumed you’d wait to do it face to face.”

“Huh?”

“Then again,” Cadance continued, oblivious to Twilight’s confusion as she captured a bishop, “I can’t help but appreciate the romance in a good love letter.”

“A love… wha…?” And then everything clicked into place. Of course Cadance didn’t know, there was no way she’d have even the slightest inkling. The princess just assumed Twilight had been sending letters to her ‘mystery stallion’, a belief Twilight was all too happy to agree with. “Oh, right! The letters! I don’t know, just couldn’t wait, I guess.” She laughed nervously.

“Well, I’m glad it all worked out for you.”

If you really still want this, I’m here.

“Yeah, it’s great.”

I can’t believe we let it get this far.

This would destroy Velvet.

There was a short silence, punctuated by the wooden clacking of their chess pieces. Twilight bit her lip. “Cadance, can I ask you something?”

“I’d be a pretty terrible sister-in-law if I said no, wouldn’t I?”

A deep breath, and then… “How wrong is it for a pony to cheat on someone?”

Whatever Cadance had been expecting, it wasn’t that. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her warm smile instantly evaporated. “Oh.” She gave Twilight a long stare, the game forgotten beneath her. Twilight had a mate in four next turn anyway. “You realise that’s a very difficult question to ask me?”

“I know.”

The princess sighed. “So this is why you thought it was never going to happen, huh? Guess that’ll teach me to open my big mouth.” She tapped her hoof against the table a few times, thinking deeply. “You’re probably not going to like my answer.”

Twilight shrugged. Until five minutes ago she hadn’t even meant to ask the question in the first place.

“Well, in that case…” Cadance sat up straight now, resting her hooves against the table. “It’s never the right thing to do.”

Well, that was about what Twilight had expected, but Cadance wasn’t finished.

“Cheating is a huge betrayal, Twilight. One of the worst.” She sighed, and her face softened slightly. “Then again, in my position I have to concede that love is never simple, and I’m not going to say you and this pony shouldn’t be together. Sometimes relationships just aren’t meant to be, and if that’s the case with his current partner, that’s okay.” Her eyes flashed suddenly. “But cheating isn’t. If he truly cares about you, he needs to end his relationship first.”

Twilight swallowed. A hard lump had filled her throat, imagining Night Light leaving Velvet for her. That wasn’t something she wanted. Cadance may be right, maybe this was having her cake and eating it too, but for her parents to actually separate? On her behalf? It was something she hadn’t considered at all, and Goddess knew how Night Light would even begin to broach the subject.

Velvet, I’m leaving you for another mare who you can never meet or know who they are.

And just imagining her mother after was too much, Velvet’s life lying in broken ruins around her, not even understanding why, or knowing that it was all her daughter’s fault. Twilight consoling her, only to go and share a bed with the stallion that had broken Velvet’s heart, Twilight’s own father…

“I know it’s hard.” Cadance reached across the table, shunting some of the forgotten pieces to the side to take Twilight’s hoof in her own. “But the only pony who gets anything out of a situation like that is the stallion, and both you and whoever he’s cheating on deserve better than that. You can’t let him carry on that way.”

But Twilight wanted to anyway, no matter how disgustingly right Cadance was. For the first time everything seemed to be so right, she was happy, and Night Light was happy too. And maybe Velvet could be as well, in time, now Night Light could finally relax and be himself again. Wasn’t that the best thing? Wasn’t that the best thing for everyone?

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Twilight.

You’re wrong.

“It really is for the best.” Cadance paused, before continuing all too nonchalantly: “No matter how good he is in bed.”

Twilight boggled at her candidness. “Cadance!”

“Oh, don’t be such a prude. You asked for my opinion, and there it is.” The princess smiled sadly. “And if you want my advice, be very careful not to let him use you. I’d hate for you to be the next mare he hurts.”

“He’d never hurt me,” Twilight said flatly. Because he’s my father, and he’d do anything to stop that from happening. He already has.

“I’m not saying he would, or that he’d mean to, but whatever happens in your situation he’s going to hurt someone.” Cadance withdrew her hooves. She wasn’t smiling anymore. “And if you can’t persuade him to break it off with whoever he’s seeing, it’ll be both of you soon enough.”

***

Twilight didn’t like how quiet the manor could be. It gave her thoughts too much room to echo. With Cadance’s words still ringing in her ears, that was the last thing she needed.

Of course the Princess had derided her choices. Twilight had been expecting that as soon as she’d posed the question, but she hadn’t expected the sincerity in Cadance’s suggested ‘solution’.

Not that it was a solution, not at all. The last thing Twilight wanted was to tear the family apart. That’s why they had to keep this secret. She shouldn’t have said anything to Cadance, it was only making all this more difficult.

And more than that, Twilight didn’t want to hurt her mother. That hadn’t changed, it wouldn’t ever. If she took the Princess’ advice… Twilight didn’t want to think about it.
Why was it all so hard? It shouldn’t have been. When Night Light held her in his hooves, gently stroking her mane or caressing her flank, the happiness that filled her asked for nothing else, nothing more. When he kissed her and murmured her name, Twilight would shiver and know that this was exactly how it should be, everything completely and utterly perfect.

Until afterwards, of course. Afterwards, Velvet would flow to the forefront of Twilight’s mind and dash all those content memories in mere moment.

I’m sorry, Twilight. I really am.

Twilight ambled through the corridors, heading loosely in the direction of the bedroom her parents were staying in. Maybe Night Light would be there, ready to offer the reassurance that she’d always relied so much on him for. Then again, maybe he’d be just as lost as she felt right now. Twilight couldn’t be sure either way anymore.

But as she drew close, raised voices echoed down the corridor, ones Twilight recognised. Her mother and father, in a heated discussion she was obviously not meant to be a part of.

Walk away, Twilight. You shouldn’t listen to this.

And of course she shouldn’t, which is why Twilight immediately began to sneak down the corridor, towards the shouts. She stopped only when she was practically behind their door, so close that every word was barely muffled.

“You said you’d try!” Velvet’s voice was hoarse; they must have been at this for some time already.

“I am!”

“This isn’t trying. This is…”

“This is what? What could this possibly be if not trying?”

“Pretending! That’s all this is. You haven’t been sincere at all since-”

“Since what, Velvet? Since what?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

Twilight heard Night Light’s laugh from where she crouched, and it was bitter and cynical. “Why not? It’s what this is all about, what it’s always been about, and you seem to think you can just hide it away and we’ll forget about it. As if nothing happened, as if it didn’t change anything.”

“It doesn’t have to change anything,” Velvet protested. “You’re making it change things.”

“HOW CAN I NOT?”

All the cynicism had gone from her father’s words now, replaced by raw anger.

“For fuck’s sakes, Velvet, how can you possibly expect me to forget what you did?”

There was a long pause, and when Velvet next spoke her own anger had disappeared. Twilight could almost hear the tears.

“I’m not asking for you to forget it happened. I know you could never do that. I’m… I’m just asking you to forgive me.”

“No, you’re asking a lot more than that. You’re asking me to act like everything’s okay between us, and I can’t.”

“If you’d just-”

“Every time I look at you I can’t help but remember,” Night Light said quietly, cutting Velvet off. The words send a cold chill through Twilight’s chest, right down until it settled in the pit of her stomach. They were filled with such anguish, and she had no idea why. “I’m not even angry, not anymore.” He sighed heavily. “But it still hurts. And then you drag me out here, into the middle of nowhere as if that’s suddenly going to make everything all better. As if being locked in a house with you is going to make it easier.”

“I just thought with the kids here that you’d-”

“Don’t talk about the kids,” Night Light interrupted. “Don’t. They didn’t need to be pulled into all this, and it was selfish of you to do it. They’ve… They’ve got their own problems to worry about.”

“Because this isn’t going to be their problem?”

“I’m not saying that, I’m saying that hanging them over my head like some kind of bargaining chip isn’t fair, to me or them. They’re adults now, and you can’t use them to make me feel guilty, especially when I’m not the one in the wrong here.”

Velvet was crying loudly now, each sob driving a small spike into Twilight’s chest. “How many times do I have to tell you how much I regret it? I wish more than anything that I hadn’t, but I can’t turn back time. Do you hate me so much that you want me to get on my knees and beg you to forgive me? Because I will.”

“I don’t hate you, Velvet.” Her father’s voice was cold and hollow. “I only came here because I can’t help but still love you. This would all be much simpler if I didn’t.”

Twilight’s entire body was numb. She had pressed herself tightly to the door, perverse curiosity forcing her to listen to every pained word, but now she wanted nothing more to do with this. She already regretted having come this far, and now Twilight wished she could forget it all instead.

As she pushed herself away from the door, her stiff and weak limbs betrayed her and she stumbled, a hoof knocking loudly against the wood. Oh Celestia no no no.

“What was that?”

Her mother’s voice. Move, Twilight, move. But she was too slow, leaden hooves refusing to budge until it was too late, and the door opened beside her. Her father filled the frame, staring down at her in surprise. All at once Twilight was a little filly again, caught red-hoofed, perhaps staying up past her bedtime to sneak extra studying in under her bedcovers. His face was entirely unreadable, though the anger that had filled his eyes when he first pulled open the door had drained when he saw her, to be replaced by something unrecognisable.

“What is it?” Velvet asked from within.

Night Light took a moment to reply, still fixed on Twilight with that inscrutable expression. “Nothing,” he said, and his voice was as impassive as his face. “It’s nothing.”

A final hesitation, and then the door clicked shut, Night Light’s figure replaced by dull wood. Her parent’s voices continued, much quieter now, but Twilight had no desire to listen to them anymore.

***

“No secrets,” said Twilight, and she even managed to keep the nervous shake from creeping into her words. “No lies, no hiding anything. Right?”

Her father nodded solemnly. “Okay.”

And then Twilight waited. The bedroom lamp was dim, the orange glow bathing the two ponies already starting to flicker, but neither of them paid it any attention. Twilight was too busy watching him, the way he frowned in thought, the way his hoof tapped nervously against the floor as he stared down at it, searching for the right words. Eventually he found them.

“Your mother had an affair,” he said, slowly.

Twilight did her best to hide any reaction, though the corner of her mouth twitched slightly from the effort.

“About a year ago,” Night Light continued, “for four months. I don’t know the pony’s name, I never asked for it. It didn’t really matter at the time, and it doesn’t matter to me now, either.”

His shoulders slumped, the last resistance draining out of him.

“I had no idea until she told me. I mean, I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know what.” Her father finally managed to lift his head to look at Twilight. “Can you imagine what that does to you? For the mare you’ve loved for so long to tell you she was regularly fucking some other stallion behind your back? And for her to think that I’d feel sorry for her, as if telling me about it would mean I couldn’t blame her, or be angry about it.”

A lone tear rolled down his cheek, and his hooves shook.

“I was so angry, Twilight. I wanted to hurt her. The same way she’d hurt me. Velvet couldn’t understand why it was so hard for me, how much of a betrayal it was. Like it could just be brushed off, the same as any other mistake. But it ruined me, imagining my wife letting some other fucking stallion rut her, seeing that over and over again, her calling out his name instead of mine. I had to show her what that was like, so she could see how hard it was to forgive her. And so I-” He stopped, blinking. “Well, you know what I did after that.”

Fuck this mare sure is tight

“I thought it would be the easiest way,” he continued. “No strings attached, completely anonymous. I’d never be able to tell Velvet who the mare was, just that I’d done the same so she could see how hard it was to accept.”

Night Light took a deep breath. “But I never even told her in the end. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I knew how much it hurt, and I could never do that to her.”

He brought a hoof up to Twilight’s cheek, gently stroking the side of her face.

“And now I’ve done so much worse, but I still can’t find a way to forgive her. Part of me feels like she deserves this.”

He went quiet. For a long time there was no sound but an occasional sputter from the dying lantern.

“Twilight?” Her father’s voice was dry and cracked. “Kiddo? Please, say something.”

“Is that all this is, then?” she asked flatly. “A way to get back at Mom?”

“What? No, of course not. Damn it, Twilight, do you really think so little of me?”

Twilight didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

“Hey.” He took her head in his hooves, making her look him in the eye. “I’m not sure what we are, but I’d never stoop so low as to use you like that. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

And that was a difficult question, because deep down Twilight knew the answer was ‘no’. She’d wanted him, to have him as her lover, to feel his hooves against her whenever she needed them, and for Night Light to have her in return. She’d wanted the kisses, the whispered ‘I Love You’s, and the warmth as he embraced her. And she had all that, and even now the memories still sent pleasant shivers through her.

But she hadn’t wanted this.

“Please, Twilight,” said Night Light, and she could hear the desperation that had wormed its way in. “I need to hear you say it.”

So she told him she did, and the look of relief that washed over Night Light almost made the lie worth it. He pulled her into a tight hug, and she could feel how fast his heart was beating against her own.

“Good,” he whispered. “I think it’s what I want too.”

And then his lips were against hers, and how could something simultaneously feel so perfect and so sickening, how could something make her stomach roil and lurch and at the same time make her chest threaten to burst in excitement?

For a moment, that was all he seemed to want, to hold her and kiss her and run a hoof through her mane. But soon the kiss deepened, Night Light’s lips parting and pulling hers open with them, his hoof behind her head pulling her close, their horns lightly brushing against each other as she fell against his chest, trying and failing to dispel the thick sense of unease that had sunk its teeth into her belly. But she didn’t break away, even as he began to pull her towards the bed with a growl of unchecked desire.

She could still stop him, even now. One word and he would stop. But as he pressed her front down over the end of the bed, her chest sinking into the sheets, lifting his weight above her and mounting her, his mare, Twilight still felt that pang of vindicated lust. It wasn’t quite enough to crush the guilt, but the burning hot stiffness that now lay against her rump was nearly all she could think about – that, and the stallion it belonged to.

His tip pressed up against her, testing her, teasing her, so unbearably close and yet refusing to take her just yet, his muzzle brushing against her neck and his breath running over her skin as he snorted in desire. There were no hoofcuffs now, but, with how tightly her father held her down, there may as well have been. His weight pressed heavily against her back, making it hard to move even an inch, but that couldn’t stop her trying to buck her hips desperately backwards, craving his slightest touch.

Twilight groaned in frustration as he continued to ignore the one place she needed him most, instead directing his attentions to nipping the tip of her ear and rolling his tongue gently against it, as if to torment her further with empty promises of what could be. The hardness against her rear only made it worse, knowing that Night Light was just as excited as she was but holding back all the same, because he wanted to watch her body beg for it. And simply because he could.

The last time they had made love as equals. The time before, she had fucked him. And now, at last, Night Light was taking charge, taking what she offered him for himself with no more restraint, and even though every part of her screamed out for him to just rut her already, his repeated denial only made her even more excited, more eager. Because of course Twilight knew he would, the only question was when.

Not yet, not yet, Night Light’s hips staying unbearably still, his lips moving over the back of her neck now, and she could feel them curl into a smile as she moaned wantonly again. He moved with such slow confidence, taking his time, savouring the moment more than he had ever had the chance to in Twilight’s rushed, eager lovemaking before.

“So impatient,” he growled in her ear, and Twilight shuddered at his voice.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Stop teasing me.”

“But you make it so easy,” he replied, and where had she heard that before?

It didn’t matter, she decided, not now that he was finally acquiescing to her pleas. Not now that he finally aligned himself and slid forward into her, Twilight immediately tightening around him, urging and pulling him deeper. His front hooves found their way to her shoulders, pulling her down onto him as he thrust forward, burying the rest of himself inside and filling her in the way that only he could.

She bit down hard against the bedsheets, so hard it hurt her teeth, but it was the only recourse Twilight had to avoid shouting out in bliss as her father rutted her. Neither of them had any words – this wasn’t the time for them. This was the time for breathless gasps, grunts and half-muted moans, for the sound of Night Light’s growls in her ear to match every deep thrust into her. This was carnal passion, raw lust, everything else lost in the moment and cast aside.

Almost everything.

Because even now – even as Twilight clenched her teeth even tighter, as her hooves tried to dig into the mattress, searching for the slightest purchase but finding none – that sick feeling wormed its way through her stomach.

It was far more than just the immorality she’d faced before. If anything, that was an enticing a thought as ever: the thrill of her father taking her as his mare, his own daughter just as eager and desperate for his touch, his kiss, his love.

No, this feeling concerned one mare, and one mare alone. The mare Night Light betrayed every time he sank into Twilight again, gripping her tighter and tighter with each thrust, his breath coming shorter and faster as she drove him ever closer to the edge.

And, worst of all, even that guilt brought with it pangs of fresh excitement. Because Night Light could have been with Velvet instead, right at this moment, but he had chosen Twilight. He had chosen her.

And who could blame him? Velvet had tossed him aside to fuck some other stallion, and how could she do that and still say she loved him? A red-hot flash of anger rolled through Twilight now, incinerating the guilt away in its wake. Why would her mother do that? How could she?

Velvet didn’t deserve Night Light’s forgiveness. She didn’t deserve him.

Twilight couldn’t stop a loud moan from escaping as Night Light ran against that perfect spot inside her, the one that he seemed to be able to hit again and again. Thank Celestia she was bent over the bed like this; her hindlegs were so shaky she doubted they would have held her up if she’d had to put weight on them. As it was she let them practically dangle, trembling a little each time her father’s hips collided with her own.

He was so warm, the heat of his body as it lay against her almost smothering her. And then her eyes snapped open in surprise. Night Light’s mouth – previously occupied with gentle nips at the back of her neck – had found its way to her horn, his tongue tracing the delicate spirals.

If restraining herself had been difficult before, now it was impossible. Twilight whimpered into the covers as his tongue explored the oh-so-sensitive grooves, dragging against them almost lazily as another blast of pleasure rocked through her, making her head spin.

She flew over the edge almost before she realise it was happening, her muffled moans becoming a shriek of finally satiated lust as she released the bedsheets from her muzzle, unable to keep her jaw clenched any longer, her hindlegs skittering uselessly behind her. They were the only part of her still able to move freely, Night Light pressing so heavily on the rest of her that she could do little more than squirm beneath him as the waves of her orgasm buffeted against her. And all the while her father continued fucking her, biting her ear gently as her horn sparked with the errant magic he’d coaxed free.

Night Light came as she was still lost in her climax, coupled with a sharp sting on her ear as he bit down just slightly too hard, his length pulsing inside her in the way that was becoming so wonderfully familiar. She was dimly aware of his final, bestial grunts of satisfaction, reaching through the haze that had descended over her mind and filled it with nothing but pure sensation. And then he pulled out, leaving her feeling so empty after everything, collapsing heavily on the bed beside her with a deeply satisfied sigh. She wished he had stayed in her for just a little longer, but at least she could still feel the warmth filling her that he’d left behind.

As the last few tingles of bliss shot through her, Twilight turned to her father and gave him another kiss on the bridge of his muzzle, almost as a thank you. And then she rolled over, and her heart dropped like a stone.

The door was open. Not fully, but just enough for somebody to peer through the gap. Behind it was the unmistakable silhouette of a pony, staring through at the couple. Twilight had to fight the urge to scream when she heard it gasp, ridding any last doubt from her mind that whoever it was had seen them. And they knew.

She was off the bed in moments, charging across the room to… to do what? She didn’t know. But she wasn’t fast enough. By the time she reached and flung the door open, their unknown voyeur was gone, vanished into the twisting maze of corridors that filled the manor.

“Twilight? What is it?”

Twilight turned to him, and her expression left no need for words. Night Light crumpled, his eyes wide and all at once more scared than she had ever seen him before.

“Oh fuck.”

7. I Spy

“There had to be something.”

Twilight shook her head. “I told you, I didn’t see anything else,” she said, for the hundredth time. “It could have been anyone.”

Her father frowned, leaning back in his chair and rubbing a hoof against his temple. “No, Twilight, it couldn’t. There are only three ponies it could have been, and we need to know which before we have any idea how much trouble we’re in.”

“Maybe it was a housekeeper?” she suggested, with far more optimism than she felt.

“Not this late,” he replied, crushing the tiny hope she had left. “You said you heard them, right? Couldn’t you at least tell if it was a stallion or a mare?”

“It was just a gasp. Can you tell the difference from that?”

He gave her a knowing look. “Sometimes.”

Twilight snorted in disgust.

“I know,” he said, “not the time.” Night Light dropped his head into his hooves, and swore through clenched teeth. “Fuck.”

And Twilight let him vent. It wasn’t as though she had anything she could say to him anyway. Nothing would be able to make this any better. Instead she turned her gaze to the floor, scuffing it with a nervous hoof as she waited.

“Okay,” he said eventually, “I’m going to talk to Velvet. If she saw us, she’s not going to be able to hide that. She might not even try.” He took a deep breath. “But that’s probably the worst case scenario.”

“And what should I do?” Twilight asked.

“Nothing,” he replied. “Not tonight, anyway. I can easily talk to Velvet this late, but you can’t exactly waltz into Shining and Cadance’s bedroom and start throwing questions at them. We’ll have to talk to them in the morning. Individually, if we can.”

“So I’m supposed to just sit around until morning?”

Night Light nodded slowly. “I know it’s not ideal, but-”

“Not ideal?”

“Twilight, just-”

“Not ideal? Someone saw us, Dad!”

“I know.”

Twilight stomped a hoof in frustration. “Then how can you be so calm?”

Her father’s expression hardened in anger, so quickly and so completely that he actually scared her a little. “Because right now that’s the only thing that’s going to help. We were stupid, Twilight, but I’m not letting one mistake ruin us. Panicking like a little foal isn’t going to fix this.”

He took a step towards her, and Twilight couldn’t help but recoil slightly at his sudden movement. As soon as she did, the fury drained from his face, replaced by a look of utter helplessness.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” he muttered, reaching out for her again, more slowly this time, gently stroking her cheek. “I didn’t mean to shout.” Night Light pressed his head against hers, dropping his voice to a whisper. “But everything’s going to be okay, I promise.”

And even though they both knew he was lying, Twilight appreciated it all the same.

***

The bedroom was deathly still, save for the loud ticking of the grandfather clock against the wall.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

On a normal night, Twilight would have barely noticed it. Now, though, it was almost deafening in the otherwise resounding silence.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Incessant. Inescapable. Infuriating.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Twilight sighed, and tried to sink even deeper into the voluptuous mattress. She’d known it was going to end up like this. As soon as Night Light had told her to wait, she’d known. Imagining the hours passing so agonisingly slowly had been bad enough, but knowing it was coming hadn’t made living it any easier. Every time she closed her eyes in the vainest of hopes that she might get some semblance of sleep, instead of darkness Twilight saw silhouettes, peering at her from behind half-closed doors.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Her father had walked her back to her room, at least. He’d paused awkwardly outside after saying goodnight, clearly wanting to say more but unable to find the words for it. Especially out in the open. Twilight wanted to lunge and hug him tightly, to feel his lips against hers, his body warm and comforting and safe. Instead she’d settled for a light kiss on the cheek; a daughter’s kiss. Not a lover’s. Night Light had smiled weakly, and watched her go right up until the door closed between them and shut him out. It was obvious how badly he’d wanted to come in too, to spend the night with her instead of having to confront his wife, alone. Twilight could understand his reluctance, but she still would have swapped with him in a heartbeat if offered the chance.

This waiting was her own personal hell.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Thinking about it (and thinking was all Twilight had left, now), she couldn’t decide which of the family would be the worst to have uncovered her tryst. She didn’t believe for a moment that any of them would understand or accept it, not even Cadance. The Princess of Love might even be inclined to tell Celestia if she’d seen them, and then…

It didn’t bear thinking about. Twilight’s entire life, everything she had, stripped away. And here she was, sitting alone in bed and waiting, with so much on the line.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

And then there was that damn clock.

Tick. Tick. Ti-

Twilight’s horn blazed, and she screamed in anger and frustration.

“Shut up shut up shut up shut up!”

The clock-face exploded, sending shards of glass and twisted clockwork cascading down around her. Twilight sank back, her magic fading along with her anger as she surveyed the wreckage. She shouldn’t have done that. She really shouldn’t have, and yet it was so cathartic that she’d do it again if she could. And at last, the room was quiet. Now there was nothing but her own breathing, and the slowly quieting thump of her heartbeat. Another burst from her horn shunted the clock remnants on the bed to the floor. She’d deal with it in the morning. Twilight had a lot to deal with then, one more problem wouldn’t hurt.

But as soon as she allowed herself to relish the silence that had settled like a blanket, it was broken by the crackle of more magic. Above her, a small, folded piece of parchment popped into existence and dropped lightly into her lap. She knew there was only one pony that could have sent it, even if she hadn’t recognised the deep blue glow which had brought it to her.

It took Twilight a couple of attempts to open it, her hooves were shaking so badly. Two words were written in a hurried scrawl, and as she read them – and then re-read them just to make sure – her heart seemed to both jump and sink at exactly the same time.

She dropped the note, letting it drift to the carpet in a lazy spiral as she fell back and stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow would be hard, impossibly so. Twilight turned to the empty space beside her, wishing more than anything that her father could have been there, that she could tuck herself against his chest and he could lie to her again in the way that made her almost believe him.

A shaft of moonlight through the curtains illuminated the parchment on the floor, the pitch black ink seeming somehow even darker in its pale glow. Two words.

Not Velvet

***

Twilight rubbed a hoof frantically against the page, cursing her luck under her breath. She was going to be in so much trouble. What would Celestia say when she saw the wax smears on the prized books she’d let her pupil borrow? Nothing good, Twilight was sure of that.

It was the candle’s fault. It had to be – it had melted far too quickly. There was no way she’d been studying for that long, was there? Twilight gazed forlornly at the book. A Complete and Comprehensive History of the Kingdom of Equestria and its Outlying Territories, and the Townships Therein. She’d started at the first alicorn ascensions, and had just reached the signing of The Third Unicorn’s Statute of Magical Restrictions and Responsible Spellcasting (with explicit regard to the practical applications of transmutation, transformation and teleportation) when the loud splat of wax against paper had interrupted her. And just as it was getting good, too.

For a moment Twilight considered magic, but levitating liquids was still far too difficult for her. Even as thick as the wax was, she didn’t dare risk ripping the page accidentally. No, this called for the old-fashioned approach.

Paper towels and hope.

Twilight snuffed out the candle, and pushed her door open as quietly as she could. The hall was dark, but a warm yellow glow from the bottom of the stairs served as a reminder of how easy it would be to get caught. Cadance had sent her to bed a long while ago, and getting caught by her babysitter was the last thing Twilight wanted. As much as Twilight loved her, the princess could be really scary when she was mad.

And so she crept downstairs, sticking close to the wall and muffling her hoof-falls as best she could. Twilight knew which steps to avoid (Shining had shown her which ones creaked the loudest when they were much younger), but a couple still made particularly loud squeaks when she put her weight on them. Each time Twilight froze, sure that Cadance was about to peer out through the sitting room doorway. She never did.

Twilight allowed herself a sigh of relief as her back hooves left the stairs. Fortunately, she didn’t have to cross the sitting room doorway to get to the kitchen, or Cadance would surely have seen her. Instead she was free to grab the paper towels off the kitchen side without any trouble at all, and was just about to begin the arduous task of sneaking back upstairs when a voice from the sitting room stopped her.

Cadance was talking to somebody.

Twilight’s first, panicked thought was that her parents were home. After a moment of utter fear, her rational mind kicked in and assured her that Velvet and Night Light were away for the weekend and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow evening. There was no way they’d be home so soon.

So then, who was she talking to? Cadance giggled softly as Twilight listened. Another voice, quieter. Lower. Masculine.

Shining.

Oh, that was completely unfair! Just because her brother was a few years older he got to stay up late? She wasn’t a foal anymore, she should be allowed to stay up with them as well! Her wax emergency completely forgotten at this newly discovered injustice, Twilight stormed back towards the sitting room. If they were going to stay up late, they’d have to let her do it too.

Twilight never made it into the room. She stopped dead on the threshold, unable to hold back a gasp. Of course Shining and Cadance heard her, breaking apart in surprise. There was a long silence. Cadance was the first to break it, trying and failing to give Twilight a reassuring smile.

“Twilight, it’s… It’s not what it looks like.”

It was exactly what it looked like.

***

Twilight kicked a small pebble and watched it skitter across the platform before dropping over the edge and out of sight. Beside her, Cadance frowned.

“No need to be too enthusiastic,” she said, as Twilight sighed and sank lower on the bench. When Twilight turned to her she smiled, all traces of sarcasm dissipating instantly. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do,” Twilight lied. Getting out of the house was almost worth it – the manor had become suffocating – but she was dreading everything that came with it. When Night Light had suggested talking to Shining and Cadance in the morning, Twilight hadn’t imagined she’d be doing it alone.

Yet here she was, sitting with the Princess on the train platform, waiting for it to whisk them away to the nearby town and still with no idea whether it had been Shining or Cadance herself that had peered through the door last night.

At the very least Twilight had hoped it would be obvious, but even that faintest hope had turned out to be in vain. When the newlyweds had come down for breakfast, they had both acted so… normal. Twilight and Night Light could only exchange nervous glances, wondering how they could possibly pretend to be so calm when they could shatter the entire family with a single sentence. Whoever it was, they were very good at acting innocent, and unfortunately that didn’t narrow it down at all. Her brother was the ex-captain of the Royal Guard, and Cadance was a princess. The idea that either of them could hide it, even something like this, didn’t surprise her that much. What surprised her was that they wanted to.

Maybe they were just biding their time, she thought gloomily. Waiting for the perfect moment to tell everyone and ruin everything Twilight had wanted so badly. Maybe they were trying to decide how, maybe they couldn’t really believe what they had seen.

Cadance tried again to spark up some conversation. “Well, I think you’ll enjoy it once you’re there. It reminded me of Ponyville.”

Twilight managed a half-hearted smile. It didn’t seem to work, and when Cadance next spoke all the levity had gone from her voice.

“Okay, listen,” she said. “We need to talk.”

Twilight froze. In fact it almost felt literal, an icy chill of dread crawling over her skin and making all her fur stand on end. Her heart plummeted through her chest, and for a moment Twilight was terrified its newfound weight would shatter her.

It was Cadance.

Of course it was. Their conversations must have made her suspicious, and now she knew everything. That’s why she’d pulled Twilight out here, to get her alone to confront her, all while Twilight thought she was doing the same to Cadance.

The princess kept talking, though she sounded oddly muted against the blood rushing through Twilight’s ears.

“I thought it could wait until we got there and you were feeling a bit better, but I guess not, huh?” Cadance paused, waiting for a response that never came.

And really, what could Twilight have said?

It wasn’t what it looked like.

She’d never been good at lying.

Cadance took a deep breath. “I was-”

“Good, you’re still here! I was worried you’d already left.”

Twilight jumped at the sudden interruption, her mother stepping up onto the platform behind her. Suddenly Cadance was all smiles again, like nothing had happened, and Twilight wondered again how she could act so innocent while knowing so much.

“Hi Velvet,” she said brightly. “Did you want to come along too?”

“I thought it’d be nice for us to have a mare’s day out,” Velvet replied. “You know, get away from-” She caught herself. “Well, get out of that house for a bit. As long as you two don’t mind, I mean.”

Twilight glanced desperately at the princess.

Please say no please say no

“Of course not, you should have said something earlier!”

Velvet beamed and settled herself on the bench next to Cadance, before launching into some mindless small talk. Twilight felt like she was going to be sick.

This entire vacation had been nothing but lies from the start, and not just from her. Her parents’ marriage had been falling apart long before Twilight had reopened that wound, and now Cadance was showing just as much of an aptitude for deception as the rest of them. Velvet had let the mask slip once, in Twilight’s bedroom, but now it was firmly back in place and everyone was tiptoeing around their conversations, talking about nothing and how nice the weather was and didn’t Cadance’s mane look lovely today and shoving everything that mattered under the rug in the hopes that no one would look too hard. But no matter how hard they pretended, it wouldn’t be the reality.
Twilight was just as bad as the rest of them, her secret the dirtiest of them all, but she couldn’t do what they did. Not as well, anyway. She didn’t want to play along with this facade of a happy, wholesome family, she just wanted to be with Night Light and to never have to worry about hurting anyone, or hiding it from the world. Twilight didn’t want to be ashamed of what they had. She wanted to embrace it and hold it close without fear of being judged, but she knew exactly how foalish that fantasy was.

And now Cadance had seen them, and the lies would have to continue in front of Velvet until they had a moment to themselves and the Princess could bring Twilight’s world crashing down around her.

Velvet laughed loudly at some joke that Twilight hadn’t been paying enough attention to. It was well hidden, but Twilight could hear the slight strain in it, too loud with too little humour. More acting. As the train pulled into the station, she wondered what would happen when everyone else grew tired of pretending too.

***

“Shining and Cadance sitting in a tree, K I S S I-”

“Twily, please!”

Twilight cackled. It had never been easier to wind her brother up, and she was relishing every moment of it.

“This is serious, Twilight,” her brother protested.

Oh, now she knew he was upset – he’d used her actual name.

Twilight had fled back to her bedroom, ignoring Cadance calling for her to come back mostly out of shock. Running was the only thing she could think to do. Back in the safety of her room she’d managed to calm herself a little, and by the time she heard the plodding hoofsteps of her brother coming up the stairs Twilight’s initial surprise had turned into a strange mix of confusion and disgust. She hadn’t really ‘got’ the whole boys thing yet, though she understood it was something that would probably happen at some point, and she already didn’t find them as gross as she used to. And of course neither her BBBFF or their babysitter had ever been gross, but the idea of them kissing…?

And Cadance was three years older than Shining, too.

…

Ewwwwww.

Her distress had quickly turned into delight, however, when she realised how susceptible he was to being teased about it. At the slightest comment Shining would turn bright red, his ears flattening against his head as he pleaded with her to stop. It was almost too easy to be entertaining. Almost, but not quite.

“Look,” he said, finally fed up with her mocking. “I know you might be a little too young to understand, but-”

“Am not!” insisted Twilight.

Shining nodded. “Okay, you’re not.”

She’d always loved that about her brother. He never treated her like she was stupid, and he agreed with her now without any hesitation.

“But you really can’t tell anyone,” he said. “Not even Mom and Dad.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

She scowled. “That’s not an answer.”

Her brother gave her a hard look, biting his lip in nervous frustration. “Because Cadance is a princess,” he said eventually.

“But she’s our babysitter.”

“That doesn’t make it better. And there are rules for princesses, Twily. I’m definitely against them.”

“What kind of rules?” Twilight’s book obviously hadn’t got to that part yet. She was pretty sure she would have remembered the section on princess kissing rules.

“You know, like… Like they can’t kiss commoners and stuff. It’s a reputation thing. Just because Dad’s in the royal guard doesn’t mean we’re allowed to.”

Twilight frowned. “Who gets to decide who other ponies are allowed to kiss? That sounds like a stupid rule.”

“Yeah,” agreed Shining, “I think so too.” His smile faded, and his face turned serious again. “So will you keep it a secret?” he asked. “For both of us? Hell, especially for Cadance.”

Twilight could see the creeping desperation in his eyes, the slightest quaver in his voice. She’d known her brother for so long, and he was the only pony she could read this well; she knew when he was scared. She could tell how nervous he was, how despite his attempts to be calm he was trying his hardest to keep himself from shaking. And when he was talking about Cadance she had seen how much he cared about her, how even now he was doing this for her, not for himself. She could only imagine how shattered he’d be if he couldn’t see Cadance anymore.

And even with all that aside, Twilight didn’t want her to have to leave either.

“Of course I will,” she said, and the instant relief that washed over her brother’s face made her grin.

“Thanks, Twily.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want you to find out this way, but I promise it won’t happen again.”

And he was true to his word. From then on, to everyone including Twilight, Shining and Cadance put on the perfect act, never seeming to be anything more than close friends. They kept it up for long enough that even Twilight began to believe it, the one brief memory all but forgotten as time went on. It wasn’t until she received their wedding invitation, all those years later, that she remembered. And no-one else but her could ever know just how long Shining and Cadance had been in love, and how well they’d kept it from the world.

***

Twilight groaned quietly as Velvet and Cadance came to another stop by another ‘quaint’ store on the street so they could stare through the window and chatter excitedly. She understood that they were both used to Canterlot, but when Cadance had said the town reminded her of Ponyville she hadn’t been kidding. Haystead could have been a perfect copy, and Twilight was finding it harder and harder to pretend to be engaged.

With the weight of what she had to do hanging off her, it was almost a kind of torture.

She needed to get Cadance alone, to talk everything through away from her mother’s ears, but as the day went on and her legs began to ache and Velvet and Cadance gave her no opportunities to do so, Twilight began to wonder if the chance would ever present itself. In some ways, returning to the manor without success didn’t sound so bad; she’d be able to talk to Night Light, and then they could talk to Cadance together. The Princess might be more understanding if they were both there to explain.

Explain? Explain what? That you’ve been fucking your father for the last few days and neither of you want to stop? How could you make that seem any better?

Twilight wasn’t sure she could. But Cadance was the Princess of Love, and the more she thought about it the more she convinced herself that if anyone else would ever understand them, or at the very least accept them, it was her. Perhaps acceptance was the best she could hope for.

Likely even that was too much.

But one thing was for certain – she was sick of waiting. Waiting had never helped her. Twilight was going to grab this by the proverbial horns and tell Cadance everything. Then she was going to swallow her pride and ask for the princess’ help. If it came to it, she’d beg Cadance to keep it to herself, to add another pony to the list that had to hold Twilight’s secret inside them, no matter how poisonous it might be. Keeping it had almost ruined Twilight, and then it had almost ruined her father. Maybe it had ruined them. It was a cruel thing to ask her sister-in-law, Twilight knew, but she’d ask it anyway.

Assuming, that was, that she could tear Cadance away from Velvet long enough.

Considering the Princess had been the one that had dragged her out so far from the manor – and had even told Twilight she wanted to talk – it was unbearably frustrating how complicit she was in keeping Velvet with them. The princess didn’t seem to be trying to find any opportunities to get them alone, apparently set on torturing Twilight as long as she could.

No, that was unfair. It was more likely that Cadance was happy to put the inevitable off for as long as she could, and Twilight couldn’t really blame her. She couldn’t imagine how it must have felt to come across them that evening, Twilight panting heavily into the mattress as her father drew himself out of her, finally relinquishing his grip on her back that he’d held so tightly while he’d-

She shook her head, dismissing the thought too late to stop a faint warmth from spreading through her cheeks. Her tail flicked absentmindedly, and she quickly glanced around the quiet street to make sure no one was looking. She would have to watch that in future. It was all too easy for those thoughts to run wild.

But Cadance definitely wouldn’t look back on that memory with the fondness (and other things besides) that Twilight did. Twilight remembered the surprised gasp, and how much weight even that simple exclamation had carried. She remembered the pure shock and horror in it, if nothing else. This was not going to be easy.

But then, when had it ever been?

“This was a good idea,” said Velvet, sighing happily at the sun on her face.

“I’m glad you think so,” replied Cadance. “Shining wasn’t quite so enthusiastic the last time we were here.”

Twilight trailed behind them, scuffing her hooves as she walked, head hung low.

“He’s not the only one,” said Velvet meaningfully.

Twilight ignored her.

“It’s funny though,” her mother continued. “Shining said I should come with you two.”

“Sounds like he got it right,” said Cadance, smiling warmly. “And you haven’t even seen the tower yet. You can see the whole town from the top of it!”

“O-oh?” Velvet’s voice was suddenly filled with uncertainty, and it all clicked into place. In fact, now it was nothing short of obvious.

Her mother was terrified of heights.

She always had been, and Cadance must have known that too. This had been her plan all along. No wonder she’d been so willing to go along with Velvet – the perfect excuse to talk to Twilight alone was waiting just around the corner the whole time.

And it was one hell of an excuse. As they moved into a cobbled stone square the tower loomed into view. If Twilight had been paying less attention to the ground and more to her surroundings she undoubtedly would have seen it earlier, its giant clock face proudly proclaiming the time to the whole of Haystead. It dwarfed the thatched buildings below it, made of an intimidating red stone that seemed entirely out of place by comparison, snarling stone griffons dotting the corners and sneering down at the square below.

“Isn’t it great?” asked Cadance cheerfully.

Twilight stared at the bleak facade with dread, as beside her Velvet swallowed.

“It’s certainly… tall,” said her mother.

“It turns out,” Cadance continued, apparently oblivious to the other ponies’ reluctance, “that Haystead used to be an old griffon town, full of buildings like this. The clock tower is the only thing that’s left nowadays.”

Wait for it…

“So,” said the princess. “Do you want to go up to the top?”

Velvet grimaced, staring upwards. “You know, I think I might sit this one out. I’m not sure I can face all those steps right now.”

Wait for it…

Cadance put on a perfect show of sympathy. “Oh. Well, if you’re sure…” She turned to Twilight. The kindness in her eyes stayed for a moment, lingering, and then it melted away and when she spoke next it wasn’t really a question. “Twilight?”

There it was.

Twilight hesitated for just a moment, before she resigned herself to her fate. “Sounds great,” she said, her voice sounding empty even to herself.

And then the hard look was gone and Cadance was the epitome of innocence once more. “Okay, then I guess we’ll see you in a bit Velvet. There’s a lovely little cafe just over there we can meet you at afterwards,” she said, pointing with a hoof. “I’m sure we won’t be too long.” Cadance didn’t sound sure at all.

They said their goodbyes and headed over to the clock tower, Twilight’s hooves seeming to get heavier and heavier as she walked.

“Mind your step,” said Cadance, as they slipped through the doorway and into the cool interior. “The stairs are really narrow, and it’s a long way to fall.”

Something told Twilight that was the least of her worries.

***

It was a long way down.

When they’d first reached the top, Twilight panting heavily and out of breath, she’d made the mistake of looking too far out over the edge and had to stumble back at a sudden wave of vertigo. Far above them still an enormous bell hung, unmoving, its bulk far too heavy for the wind to push even slightly. There was something strangely ominous about it, how something so huge suspended like that could be so completely still. It seemed almost trapped in time, mid fall, and Twilight was seized with the irrational fear that if she looked too hard at it the bell would suddenly drop, and the last thing she would ever see would be that mass of metal plummeting towards her so quickly she wouldn’t even have time to scream.

Cadance had certainly picked a dramatic spot to talk.

And yet now they were here the alicorn seemed reluctant to speak, staring out over the town as Celestia’s sun began its slow descent in the distance. That was okay, though. Twilight had already decided that the best way to tackle this was head on, without hesitation. If she hesitated it would look like she doubted herself, an admission that what she felt was wrong. No, she had to own it, and everything that came with it. That was the only way she could make Cadance understand.

“I love him,” Twilight said to the air. It was easier not to look at Cadance, far easier to stare at the empty blue of the sky than at the princess next to her or the hanging bell above her or the tiny shape of her mother sitting outside the cafe so far below. “I really do.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell that Cadance was watching her, but Twilight wasn’t finished yet.

“And I know you probably don’t understand,” she continued, “and that you think it’s wrong, but I can’t help it.”

“Twilight…” Cadance began, but Twilight interrupted her. The floodgates had opened now, and there was no stopping her.

“But I don’t care!” Her words took on a newfound vigour, as Twilight’s fear melted away to be replaced with the same fiery resolve that had convinced her to confess to Night Light in the first place. This wasn’t wrong, it couldn’t be. Surely it couldn’t be wrong if she yearned for him that much, if he needed her as much as she needed him. “I tried to stop myself, but I couldn’t. I tried so hard but it felt like it was going to rip me apart from the inside out. I tried to keep away but it wouldn’t let me.” Twilight was crying now, and she didn’t really know why. She didn’t even realise she was until she felt the warm tears rolling down her cheeks. “So isn’t that love?” she asked, desperately. “It has to be, right? If I tried and it wouldn’t let me choose not to?”

And then Cadance’s hooves were around her, holding Twilight tightly to her chest as the unicorn sobbed into her fur.

“Oh, Twilight,” Cadance murmured, and Twilight hated the pity in her voice. But at the same time her embrace was so comforting, warm and unyielding, and it felt so good to have someone else to share everything with. She had Night Light, of course, but this was different. Even with Night Light it was a burden, their burden, their secret. Something so wonderful that they had to hide in the dark for when they were alone, but now Cadance knew and instead of pushing her away she held Twilight even closer, showing no signs of relinquishing her hug until Twilight was ready.

“I was worried something like this would happen,” the princess said, and now Twilight did pull away, rubbing away the last of her tears with a confused expression.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” Cadance continued. “I don’t think I made myself clear last time, and considering I’m the Princess of Love I felt particularly guilty about it. I was just so surprised to hear you saying… well, I didn’t expect it. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

Twilight frowned. This wasn’t what she’d imagined at all. Even after Cadance had seemed so forgiving earlier, this felt wrong somehow.

“I think I gave the wrong impression, actually. If you thought I was saying your relationship shouldn’t happen... I was trying to tell you to stay with him, but to make sure the time was right.”

No, this was definitely wrong.

Cadance smiled. “I don’t know if you remember, but Shining and I first started dating back when you were still living with your Mom and Dad. If anyone had found out I was with a commoner-” She blinked. “Not that that’s a bad thing of course, but I would have been forbidden from seeing him. So I had to pretend that I didn’t feel that way, and he had to do the same. It’s a hard thing to do. In fact, I told him to forget about me. That hurt, but I had to do it. There was no way we could ever be together, short of running away and eloping, and Shining stopped me from doing that.” She chuckled. “But you know your brother, and you know how determined he can be. He promised he’d marry me one day, and that no one would ever question it. I didn’t believe him. And then he joined the Royal Guard. Shining spent years working his way up right from the bottom. They called him the most ambitious pony in the military, apparently, right up until he became Captain. And he did that all for me, so that we could marry and not have to hide our love anymore. All that time, and he never gave up on me.”

Twilight had never heard that story before. Shining had always said he wanted to be in the Royal Guard, ever since… Ever since that night Twilight had found them kissing, and back then she’d never pieced it all together.

“What I’m trying to say,” said Cadance, “and what I don’t think I made clear enough last time, is that you shouldn’t give up on him. And that if you love him, it won’t matter how long you have to wait for him. As the Princess of Love I can’t condone infidelity, but if he loves you and not his wife, then I can’t tell you that’s wrong. Love doesn’t follow the rules, no matter how much easier that would be, but you might have to. You just need to be patient.”

“But you saw us,” said Twilight, frowning. “You know why it’s not that simple.”

“I did what?”

“Last night,” Twilight insisted, trying not to let the hesitancy creep into her voice. It was too late for that now. “You were outside the door, and you saw us, and then you ran away.”

“Twilight, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Saw who?”

“Me and…” Twilight trailed off.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

“Was coming here my brother’s idea?” she asked, unable to stop her voice from shaking.

Cadance raised an eyebrow. “To Haystead? It was, funnily enough, but I wanted to talk to you anyway. I didn’t tell him anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Shining was the one who said I should come with you two.

Shining.

Shining.

Shining.

Without another word Twilight turned and cantered back down the steps, ignoring Cadance’s confused calls for her to stop. She lit up her horn as she took the stairs two at a time, waiting until she was far enough down that Cadance wouldn’t realise what she’d done. As the giant bell above swung back and filled the town with a resounding toll, Twilight’s magic sparked, and she vanished into wisps of purple smoke.

8. Separations

Twilight hit the ground hard, tumbling onto her side. The grass was cold against her skin, and before she could even begin to pick herself up again a wave of nausea rose up through her throat, caustic and vile. That was the furthest she’d ever teleported before, far past the point where it was dangerous, and she was feeling the brunt of the worst side effects in full force. Faced with such an immediate, disorientating change, Twilight’s subconscious responded in the only way it knew how, and she threw up onto the grass.

So much for the manor’s impeccable lawn.

Still, it was better than the alternatives. Insanity and death weren’t particularly inviting prospects, and Twilight was glad she didn’t have the presence of mind to think about the repercussions before she teleported. She had enough to worry about.

Wiping the bitter taste of vomit from her mouth, all while knowing full well it would linger on her tongue anyway, Twilight gathered herself and began to make her way slowly towards the house. Her legs quivered with every step, as if they were scared that she might suddenly teleport somewhere else if she placed a hoof wrong. Twilight wasn’t too concerned. She didn’t see the point in hurrying even if she could. Her secret was already out, and Shining wouldn’t be expecting her back for a while yet. Cadance and Velvet would probably search the town for her first, too, and even if they didn’t they still had to wait for a train. The one thing Twilight didn’t have to worry about right now was time.

Celestia, she’d been so stupid.

Getting caught had been bad enough, and then she had nearly admitted everything to the wrong pony. If she’d said anything more…

There was one bright side, at least, paltry though it might have been. Cadance had no idea what Twilight had been talking about, which meant that so far Shining Armor had kept it to himself. Small comfort, but at least it was something. More than she’d had for a while.

The strength had started to return to her legs as she climbed the few steps to the manor doors, though now a deep ache had settled in her muscles, and her head had started to pound. It wasn’t really an improvement.

Entering the lobby, Twilight added another problem to her ever-growing list: finding her brother in such an enormous building. He had to be here somewhere – there was no other reason he’d send them all away – but the mansion was huge. It was all too easy to be swallowed up by the twisting corridors and innumerable side rooms, and she had no idea where to even begin looking.

The house was silent. Twilight was used to the library’s silence, but it was acutely different. That quiet was never truly empty, the constant rustle of the leaves outside and gentle creaking of wood becoming almost a companion on those late night study sessions. But this? This silence was dead. Completely and utterly empty. She shifted slightly, and even that sent echoes throughout the entrance hall.

And that was it. That was the answer. Twilight smiled; she’d still got it. If only she could solve her problems as quickly as she kept making them.

Magic filled her horn, Twilight letting the familiar sense of pressure build. It was harder than usual, the threads of magic seeming to dance out of her mind’s grasp half the time, but she got there in the end. Celestia, it was tiring though. That teleport had taken more out of her than she’d thought. Twilight wished she could let the spell go now, her head aching in complaint, but she had to hold it for a while yet. She gritted her teeth, and a warm tingle covered her ears as she bathed them in magic. They twitched, and she concentrated, holding her breath as she strained for the slightest sound.

The first thing she heard was a small, quiet scuttling. Faint to begin with, but as she concentrated her magic it became a roaring ocean, thousands upon thousands of sounds melding into one, overshadowed by a huge, rhythmic booming. Twilight shuddered, and pulled it back a little. That was way too sensitive. The scuffling was the sound of hundreds of insects crawling around inside the manor walls, the booming her own heartbeat. But while everything had been magnified Twilight had briefly heard what she’d been after, before it became lost in the cacophony. She tried again, more slowly this time. Louder, louder, louder… There. Above her, way off to the left. Her ears whipped to the side almost like a cat’s, guided by her magic as if on invisible strings. Voices. Masculine. One shouting, the other subdued. Twilight could have made them louder still, but she couldn’t make them any clearer after going through so many walls. It was too muffled to hear what they were actually saying, but it would be more than enough for what she needed it for.

Twilight just wanted to find them.

Her bearings set, she shook her legs to try and ease their aching, and headed up the stairs into the heart of the mansion, wincing slightly as her head begged her to stop the magic. But she couldn’t do that, not yet. She still had a long way to go.

***

“And so, after Sunripe finished cleaning the town after the mess he’d made, the Head Unicorns decided to set limits on transmutation to stop anything like that happening ever again.”

Celestia smiled as Twilight finished, sending a warm little burst of happiness through her chest. The Great Tomato Flood had been a risky project choice, but it seemed to have paid off in the end.

“Very good, Twilight.” The monarch took another sip of her tea as Twilight beamed so wide her cheeks hurt. Rain spattered against the windows of Celestia’s quarters, the sky dyed a dark and foreboding grey, but it did nothing to dull Twilight’s mood. If anything, it only made her time with the Princess that much more cosy. “But the books tend to gloss over the other reason for the new laws, and what became of poor Sunripe.” Celestia paused, then shook her head. “Then again, I often forget how young you still are. Perhaps it’s for the best they omit it.”

Twilight would normally have pressed the matter after Celestia said something like that, but she already knew all the grisly details. One of the many benefits of having unlimited access to the Canterlot library was that she could read plenty of books that weren’t necessarily part of the “approved” curriculum. And among them she’d discovered Sunripe hadn’t been the one to clean up after his failed experiment, no matter what the school books said. It would have been difficult for him to do so, in fact, due to the slight complication of him being very dead.

“It’s a shame, in some ways,” Celestia continued wistfully, perhaps not even really talking to her student anymore. “I think he might have served as a much better warning with the truth.”

Secretly, Twilight agreed. Magical overexertion was nothing to take lightly, even if Sunripe hadn’t meant his spell to go so far. Especially since he hadn’t meant to.

Celestia spread her wings wide, closing her eyes as she stretched them with an appreciative nicker. Twilight still couldn’t get used to seeing things like that, no matter how often the Princess did them. She’d held Celestia in such high esteem for so long that whenever she did something so… ponyish, something that any pegasus on the streets of Canterlot would do without a moment’s thought, the sight was always a little jarring. Once, Celestia had actually apologised for treating her lessons a little informally, admitting she enjoyed the time away from the demands of royalty, and of course Twilight told her it was okay. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how stressful being a princess would be, and privately thanked the sun that she wasn’t one.

All too often, though, royal affairs interrupted their otherwise quiet meetings. Some things were too important to be avoided, and today seemed to be no exception with a loud, official-sounding knock at the door.

“Enter,” said Celestia, rolling her eyes and giving Twilight an apologetic look.

The pony entered. His golden dress-armour gleamed, so shiny the reflections almost hurt Twilight’s eyes, and as soon as the door closed behind him he drew himself up in a smart salute.

“Princess.” He turned to Twilight, and saluted again. “My lady.”

Twilight giggled. Now it was her turn to roll her eyes.

“What is it, Sergeant?” asked Celestia.

“My apologies for the interruption, but the griffon ambassador has arrived, and has asked to see you personally. I would have told him to wait, but I understand you wanted the matter treated with the utmost importance.”

Celestia sighed, and nodded. “Yes, I really shouldn’t keep him waiting. The fool takes ‘Hello’ as a personal insult half the time, he’ll probably declare war if I don’t see him immediately.” The Princess blushed. “That never leaves this room, understand?”

Twilight nodded, well used to Celestia’s frustrated outbursts.

“Sergeant?”

“I’ve already forgotten it, Princess.”

“Excellent.” Celestia turned back to Twilight. “I’m truly sorry, but I hope you don’t mind cutting the lesson short. I have to attend to this. Sergeant, perhaps you would escort Twilight back to her quarters?”

“Of course, Princess.”

“Wonderful. I’ll see you tomorrow then, Twilight. I’ve got a particularly exciting lesson planned, so make sure to bring plenty of water.”

Twilight was understandably concerned by that, but Celestia was gone before she could ask about it, the last wisps of her tail disappearing through one of the many doors that lined the room. She turned to the guard with a sigh as he began to lead her out into the castle corridors.

They walked in silence for a spell, the only company the clink of his armour and the occasional flurry of movement from any guard they passed, scrambling to salute them. Eventually, Twilight couldn’t bear keeping quiet any longer.

“My lady?”

Shining Armor grinned, not even breaking his stride. “You didn’t like that?”

“It sounded so strange coming from you.”

“Well, you better get used to it Twily. You’re important now, like it or not.”

Twilight shrugged. “I’m not the only one though, huh Sergeant?” she said, nudging him in the side.

“Yeah yeah, sure. It’s still just a start, though.”

“It’s pretty good for ‘just a start’. Look how fancy that armour is!”

Shining glanced back at the metal adorning his shoulders, as if noticing it for the first time. “I guess it’s about time I got something to fit the name, huh?”

And it was fitting, she had to admit. No helmet anymore (which was a shame, she’d loved mocking that ridiculous head frill), but his armour was much bulkier and more ornate than most of the other guards, right down to the etching of Celestia’s portrait in the sun on his shoulder guards. The whole thing screamed ‘important’, though it probably cost more than he actually made in a year. “So, when were you planning to tell Mom and Dad?”

“Oh, er…” He scratched his mane sheepishly. “They already know.”

Twilight blinked. “And you didn’t tell me? Whatever happened to BBBFF?”

“I wanted to show you in person! And besides, I knew how you’d react.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shining put on an over-exaggerated, high pitched voice, the one he always did when imitating Twilight that annoyed her so much. “You don’t have to try so hard just because Dad was in the Royal Guard too. It’s not a competition.”

“Well it’s not!”

“I never said it was.”

Twilight scowled at him, but Shining remained completely unruffled.

“If I didn’t know any better,” he continued, “I’d say you were worried I’m gonna be more important than you soon.”

“See, now you’re definitely making it a competition.”

Shining grinned. “With you? Always.”

He stopped suddenly, and Twilight was surprised to find they’d already arrived at her room. Her brother had always had a strange way of making the time pass so quickly; probably because he teased her just as much as she teased him.

“Do you want to hang around for a bit?” she asked. “I can make us some tea or something.”

“Tea?” Shining gave her a strange look.

“Is that so weird?”

“No, but I think the Princess is rubbing off on you.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I would if I could, but I can’t stay. I’m enlisting for personal detail this afternoon.”

“For Celestia?”

“Of course not, it takes years to get onto Celestia’s guard. Nah, this is another royal.”

“Great, you’ll have to deal with some stuffy prince who treats you like dirt instead.”

Shining chuckled. “Something like that, sure.”

“You know,” said Twilight, her smile fading a little, “you don’t always have to push yourself so hard. When was the last time we spent time together? Properly, I mean.”

“I have to work hard, Twily. I’ve got plans.”

“You always say that. But if you’re comparing yourself to Dad or something-”

“It’s not like that.” Shining’s words were firm – final. They didn’t leave room for questioning him, but Twilight was going to anyway. He was her brother, after all, and if she didn’t then no-one else would.

“He’s proud of you already. You don’t have to try and match him or anything.”

“I know he is,” he said, “but I told you it’s not about one-upping him. I’ve got my reasons.”

Twilight sighed. This was hopeless. “You never get any less stubborn, do you?”

He smiled the way he always did when she said things like that, taking it as a point of pride rather than the jab it was meant to be. “Would you have me any other way?”

“Of course not. But if you ever make Captain you’re going to make Dad so jealous.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a long way off yet.”

“Aha!” exclaimed Twilight triumphantly. “So you are trying to beat him!”

“I didn’t say that,” Shining insisted. “But you’re right, he’d definitely be jealous.” He paused, and broke out in a wicked grin. “Maybe Dad should be worried after all.”

***

Twilight’s magic fizzled and died, leaving the world muted and empty. She was close enough now that she could hear them without it, and despite weakening the spell she’d been able to make out words before she cut it entirely. Twilight didn’t want to hear that yet, even if she’d only bought herself a minute of respite. She’d had enough of listening to arguments behind closed doors.

That didn’t stop her from hearing the shouts now, though – unmistakably Shining’s. Before she’d killed the spell she’d heard her father’s voice, too. Not much, a single word, his voice hollow and quiet, and yet even that had filled her with a rush of love and heartache.

Twilight.

And then she’d stopped her magic and his voice vanished, drowned out by oppressive quiet and Shining’s muffled yells. Twilight tried to walk slowly, even taking a moment to freshen her mouth with another pulse of magic, ignoring the immediate pang in her head that followed. She didn’t want to go through the door, didn’t want to see Shining, but as she got closer her hooves sped up almost of their own accord, stumbling with her unsteady, uncertain gait. Her breaths came quick and short, her head still pounding, and the corridor seemed to stretch out before her as she half-walked, half-ran down it.

And then she was at the door, and she could hear Shining Armor behind it almost as clearly as she had with her magic.

“No, there’s no explaining this. There’s not a fucking thing you could say to even start to-”

Twilight shoved open the door.

She did it harder than she meant to, and the door handle hit the wall with a loud slam. The two stallions whipped round, Shining’s words cut off abruptly as he jumped at the sudden interruption. Even in the expression of surprise and guilt she could see the anger buried in it. Her father was just as startled, but instead of anger there was nothing but a deep hopelessness in his eyes.

“Twilight?”

She wasn’t even sure which of them had spoken. Perhaps both. She didn’t think it mattered. Here, now, Twilight was at a complete loss. She’d been so determined to get back she’d not even thought about what to say, where to begin. The two ponies stared at her, and she stared back, the silence in the air thick and choking. It held a moment longer, and then she couldn’t bear it anymore, and she ran past her brother to Night Light and wrapped her hooves around him and buried herself in his neck. His warmth, his scent, his everything, oh she’d needed it, now more than ever. And he hugged her back, tightly holding her to him with just as much relief as she felt, a silent promise that they could handle this together.

But they couldn’t hold the embrace forever, no matter how much Twilight wanted to. And when she turned back to face Shining his surprise had vanished. He was shaking, almost imperceptibly, his movements so slight that if Twilight wasn’t looking for them she’d never have noticed. His jaw was clenched shut, so tightly that Twilight was surprised it wasn’t hurting him. Maybe it was. But his eyes were the worst part. In them wasn’t the fury she’d been anticipating, or the shock from before. Instead her brother looked at her with nothing but disgust.

Night Light stepped forward, putting himself between Twilight and her brother. “Shining, let’s just-”

And then Shining hit him.

Hard.

Night Light reeled, Twilight quickly moving to steady him as he stumbled backwards into her. He shook his head and wiped his mouth, and Twilight glimpsed a brush of dark scarlet against the blue of his fur.

“Okay,” he said, a little shakily. “Maybe I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Shining replied through gritted teeth. “You did.”

***

Twilight muttered under her breath as she flipped through the pages for what felt like the millionth time. Whenever she reached a particularly important section she’d underline it, or even scribble a note at the side of the page. She was so focused she’d sometimes underline something for the second time without even realising, and it was no surprise that she didn’t hear the knock on the door at first. It came again, much louder, and she jumped and nearly upended her inkwell all over the book, catching it at the last second with her magic.

“Miss Sparkle?” came a concerned voice through the wood.

“Yes, what is it?”

“The lieutenant is here to see you. Should I tell him you’re busy?”

Oh no, was it really that late already? Twilight glanced out the window, and was horrified to see how far the sun had crossed the sky.

“No, no, it’s fine. You can let him in.” Twilight scanned the room as she flattened her mane as best she could. It looked as though a small, localised tornado had swept through it, scattering pages and books all over the floor. She’d long since abandoned her desk, piled high with literature of its own, and was sitting in what was the only patch of free space left in the room. Well, perhaps ‘free’ was too generous. She shunted away a book that had been poking her rear with a corner. Oh well, it was too late to do anything about it now. The door opened, and Shining Armor stepped inside, immediately kicking a book clear across the room and yelping in surprise.

Twilight tried to stifle her laugh, but not very hard. “Good to see your military training is paying off.”

Flustered, Shining fiddled with a strap on his armour, as if ignoring the past ten seconds would mean they never happened. He raised his head, and looked around the room with steadily increasing horror. “What in Tartarus happened here, Twily? Did you mess up a spell or something?”

“When have I ever messed up a spell this badly?”

“Well,” he said, delicately, “there was that one time you turned the pet rabbit into a-”

“I mean apart from that,” Twilight quickly interrupted, trying her best to avoid that particular memory. She couldn’t have known it would end up like that, of course, but finding a fireproof cage for it afterwards had been difficult, and feeding it had been a nightmare. “Anyway, this isn’t a spell gone wrong. This is… organised chaos.”

“Uh-huh.” Shining tried to tiptoe around a tall stack of elk war history volumes and ended up tipping the whole thing over.

“It was organised, at least.”

He gave her a briefly apologetic look, though it quickly turned to concern now he was close enough to look at her properly. “Are you okay, Twily? You look exhausted.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine.”

“Yeah? Did you not get enough sleep or something?”

“Sleep? Oh, right, uh…” Twilight’s eyes drifted to the window again. “What time is it?”

“Ten,” he replied. “Remember, we were going to-”

“It’s ten already? Ten in the morning?”

“Of course ten in the morning, when else would it be? Did you get any sleep last night?”

Twilight frowned at him. “Depends, what day is it?”

“Oh forget it.”

“No, I’m fine,” she insisted. “I was just… studying for… uh…” Her attention fell back down to the textbook in front of her. The three rules of magical teleportation were-

SNAP

She jumped as Shining slammed the book shut with his magic.

“Huh?” she asked, dumbly.

“I said, are you ready to go? But I guess that’s a stupid question.”

“Yes, no, I mean, I just…” Twilight took a long look at the swathes of papers and books surrounding her. A sea of studying, and she was adrift in the middle, barely holding on. “Shining, I’m really sorry, but can we do this another time? Celestia has a big test for me coming up, and I have to-”

Her brother raised a hoof to quiet her. “Okay, I get it. Don’t worry about it. We can hang out next time I have leave, if you’re not so busy.”

Twilight could tell he was disappointed. His shoulders slumped slightly, deflated, but he didn’t try to persuade her. Instead he took another, careful step closer.

“Come here,” he said.

She was quick to jump up and give him an appreciative hug. Shining Armor was always so understanding when it came to things like this. He never pushed her, never insisted. He knew how important this was to her, and Shining would never get in the way of that. It still didn’t stop him from showing his due brotherly concern, of course.

“Promise me you’ll get some sleep instead. You’ll feel better for it.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “But only for my BBBFF.”

He chuckled gently. “You know we’re not kids anymore, right?”

“No one ever told me!” Twilight exclaimed in mock horror.

“Good, don’t let them.” Shining gave her one last smile, then he seemed to gather himself and he navigated his way back across the room, taking care to avoid any more pillars of books. “And take care of yourself, Twily.”

“You don’t need to tell me that.”

“Someone’s got to,” came Shining’s voice from the other side of the door, as it slowly closed behind him. “Otherwise you might forget.”

***

Night Light rubbed his jaw, nudging Twilight away whenever she tried to fuss over him. Her father looked very small in his chair, and not just because it was built for an alicorn.

On the other side of the room, Shining glared at the both of them, as if daring them to try and speak, to justify themselves. He hadn’t spoken himself for some time, not since he’d hit Night Light. The silence was colder than his anger had been.

Her brother finally broke. “Why?” The question floated across the quiet, broken and hollow.

Night Light cleared his throat, nervously. “That’s a hard question to-”

“Shut up.” Shining’s voice was a sudden crack of a whip, silencing his father instantly. “I wasn’t asking you.”

Night Light flinched slightly, before settling back down and giving Twilight’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said, quietly.

“What?”

“I said I didn’t mean to.”

“I heard what you said. I’m having a hard time working out how this was an accident.”

“No, I mean… I mean it wasn’t meant to end up like this.”

Something in Shining snapped. He burst from his chair, teeth bared in fury. “No, it fucking wasn’t!” he roared. “What is wrong with you? With both of you? How can this be something either of you wanted?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “When I saw- When I found you two like that, I wanted so badly to be wrong. I had to be wrong, it couldn’t be what I thought I’d seen. And now here you are admitting to it, and telling me that it’s been going on this whole holiday, maybe longer, and I’m the only one who seems to see how sick this is.”

Night Light stepped in, trying to shield his daughter from the brunt of Shining’s anger. “Please Shining, just listen for a minute and we can-” He didn’t get any further before Shining Armor rounded on him instead.

“And you. I don’t know what you said to her, how you managed to convince Twilight that your fucked up fantasies were okay, but I swear to Celestia if you think for one second that I’m going to-”

“No, you’ve got it wrong!” Twilight hated the desperate, pleading note in her own voice. She sounded so powerless, cowed by her brother’s words. But she just wanted him to understand. No, not even that; she just wanted him to accept them. His fury hurt almost as much as her longing for Night Light had. “This is all my fault,” she said, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. “I had to convince Dad, he didn’t want to at first.”

Whatever Shining had expected her to say, it wasn’t that. The wind fell out of his sails, the fury melting from his features to be replaced by pure, stunned surprised. His ears flattened back against his head as he took an uncertain step away. “You…?”

“I know it’s difficult,” she said, pressing onwards as best she could now he was showing cracks in his armour at last. “But if you have to be mad at anyone, you have to be mad at me.”

Shining’s gaze flickered between the two of them, back and forth, back and forth. “No, you’re wrong,” he muttered. “This isn’t you, Twily. It can’t be. He might have made you think that, but-”

“Remember the train ride here?”

“What?”

“I heard you talking to Cadance. You said you were worried about me, and that I was acting weird.”

“You heard that? I thought you were asleep.”

She shook her head. “But this is why. I didn’t want to come because I didn’t think I could bear to be so close to Dad and know I couldn’t be with him.” She heard slight movement behind her at that, but she didn’t turn around. Looking at Night Light now would have been too much. “And I was right. I had to tell him how I felt. I tried to keep it to myself, really, but I couldn’t do it. You know what that’s like, don’t you? With Cadance.”

“Keep her out of this,” he growled. “That’s nothing like what you and Dad have been doing.”

“Isn’t it? She’s a Princess. You weren’t supposed to fall in love with her, but you did anyway, and then you fought to be with her no matter what. Shouldn’t I do the same?”

“It’s not the same!” Shining was shouting again. The anger was back, red hot and boiling over. “It’s nothing close to being the same. He is your father. He’s married. To your mother. This isn’t some ‘forbidden love’ thing, Twilight, or whatever you’ve convinced yourself it is. This is wrong.” He hesitated. “And it’ll break Mom when she finds out.”

Twilight’s heart stopped. “You can’t tell her.”

“So I’m supposed to just keep it secret?” Shining snorted derisively. “She deserves to know her husband’s cheating on her, even if it’s with you. Especially since it’s with you.”

“No, you can’t do that!” Panic began to claw its way up Twilight’s spine, thick and claustrophobic.

“Why not? Give me one good reason, because from where I’m standing-”

“Because I love him!”

Shining recoiled as if she’d slapped him. The vehemence in her shout had surprised even Twilight, turning into a scream of almost pure emotion, all the restraint she’d kept throughout their argument shattering all at once. She stood panting, breathless, the exhaustion running deep into her bones. It ached. Twilight was hollow, as if she’d poured everything she was into that final declaration, leaving nothing but a shell behind.

Her brother stared at her for a few moments more. And then, without another word, he left the room, not even sparing a glance at either of them, slamming the door behind him as she watched him go. The noise was enough to break Twilight out of whatever reverie she’d been in, and another small surge of panic jolted through her. “Wait,” she began, making to follow him when a hoof caught her shoulder and held her back.

“Don’t,” said Night Light, his voice low and impossibly calm. “You’ll only make it worse.”

Twilight stomped a hoof in frustration. “Worse than this?”

“Yes,” he said, without hesitation.

“How could it be worse? You saw what he was like. Shining hit you, he’s never going to listen to us.”

“No, he’s not,” Night Light agreed, and Twilight’s hopes sunk even lower. “But he might still listen to you.”

“What gave you that idea?”

Her father sighed heavily. “Shining’s already decided to hate me for this, and nothing I could say to him would convince him otherwise. But he’s always tried to protect you, Twilight, ever since you were foals, and that’s why he’s so angry. He thinks he failed you.”

“But I told him it was my fault.”

Her father frowned. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like this is something to be blamed for.” Her father placed his hoof under her chin, and lifted it so their eyes met. “If you’re ashamed of us, then Shining was right.”

“Of course I’m not.”

“Neither am I, and so it’s no-one’s ‘fault’.” He smiled, but it was short-lived. “And you can still talk to him about this, try to persuade him not to tell Velvet.” Night Light’s eyes were brimming, but he managed to keep his tears back. “I’ve already lost my son, I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t lose you.”

“Okay,” she whispered. He was close, so close she could feel the warmth coming off him. “I’ll try.”

“That’s my girl.” Her father’s hoof stroked against her cheek, then up over her forehead, brushing any errant strands of her mane out of her eyes. It was something he’d done as long as she could remember, often after reading to her in bed, back when she was small. Back when things were simple. “But he needs some time to calm down,” her father continued, “and so do you.”

“I’m calm,” Twilight said, too quickly.

It wasn’t until Night Light wrapped his hooves around her that she realised she was shaking. “No, you’re not,” he said. His tone wasn’t accusatory, though; there was nothing but reassurance in his words. It was okay not to be, it said. He understood, it said, and he was the only pony who ever could. Night Light leaned closer, pulling her tighter against him with an affectionate sigh. “And I’m not either.”

His muzzle brushed against hers, and then they were kissing, and his lips were warm and soft and safe. She pulled away anyway. She pulled away no matter how much she hated to, no matter how much she wanted to just lose herself in him.

“We shouldn’t,” Twilight murmured, still nuzzling against his neck. “Not now.”

“We never should have,” Night Light replied, and then he kissed her again anyway.

And oh goddess it was good to have this again. They were together and his hooves held her close and he was so hot she melted against him. His fur smelled like home, of tea and candle-smoke, and if Shining’s words had done anything to suggest that this was wrong their work was undone in an instant. Night Light was her father, but he was also her lover, and right now she needed him to be both.

And then he was pushing her back against the wall as the kiss became more forceful, more demanding. His hooves were all over her, exploring, caressing, squeezing, rolling through her fur. Twilight could feel his excitement in their movements, in the way they desperately clutched against her, pulling her ever closer.

It was almost too much, in some ways. Twilight just wanted to be held, to settle in his hooves for a time, to nuzzle into his fur and stay there as long as she could. For him to stroke her mane, or rest his head against hers. But she couldn’t deny the warmth that began to spread through her under his ministrations. She pushed him away again; just for a second. “Wait,” she spluttered. “Wait a moment.” The dull ache immediately returned to her head as her horn lit up, but she ignored it. Night Light began to nuzzle against her neck impatiently, the touch of his lips on her skin making it even harder to concentrate than the pressing need between her legs already was. She muttered under her breath, and then her horn flared and a burst of magic wrapped itself around the doorframe, sinking into the wood without a trace. No one could tell the difference at a glance, but the door wouldn’t open until Twilight removed her spell. No more accidents.

With that done, Twilight could let herself fully appreciate Night Light’s attentions, shivering at every stroke against the inside of her thigh as his hooves grew more adventurous. She was almost upright now, only her hindlegs still touching the floor, her father’s weight holding her against the wall as he lifted himself up too. Night Light planted a hoof beside her head for balance, and Twilight would have missed its gentle touches were it not for the hot, insistent hardness that now pressed into her stomach. He nickered softly at the sensation of her fur against him, and Twilight couldn’t help but smile, pressing herself even more tightly to him and giving him even more reason to buck his hips.

Night Light’s wandering hoof’s grip on her ass tightened, sliding her upwards. His already needy kisses and nuzzles grew even more attentive and aggressive as she felt his hips buck up against her, his length pressing against her wet folds and making her shudder and gasp. But despite his eagerness, and likely because of it, his efforts were largely fruitless, succeeding only in running himself against her marehood and unwittingly teasing the both of them even further. When Twilight squirmed her father almost lost his grip on her, and she locked her hindlegs around his waist, wrapping herself completely around him, her forehooves already around his neck.

That was all the leverage he needed. He hefted her up a little more, and then he was thrusting forwards, and this time he slid deeply into her and she let out a quiet cry of finally fulfilled desire. He kept himself there for a moment, hilted inside her, breathing heavily, gathering himself. Held up as she was there was little Twilight could do except roll her hips against his and eke out what little satisfaction she could, urging him to rut her like he was supposed to.

She rested her head on Night Light’s shoulder and whispered into his ear. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

But he did. Perhaps he still wasn’t quite ready, perhaps he just wanted to make her wait, to make her so impatient and wet and excited, giving only the slightest movement as his length twitched inside her. He was as ready as she was, what was he waiting for?

Twilight groaned in quiet frustration as he pressed against a particularly sensitive spot inside of her. This was unbearable, it was torturous, it was amazing. Her entire body burned with lust, and as he teased her and denied her it only made her skin ever warmer, more and more sensitive to each and every touch and slightest movement. She was entirely at her father’s mercy, and yet he still held himself back, as if to see just how far he could push Twilight before finally grabbing her hips and thrusting forwards roughly and making her scream in delight. Oh she wanted that, she wanted that so badly it hurt.

“Please,” she tried again. “I need you, now.”

Night Light’s breath caught at her words; the slightest hitch in his otherwise indomitable performance. Because of course that’s what this was – an act, a show, but one for both of their benefit. Foreplay for Night Light as much as Twilight. She could see how much he wanted her in his eyes, how he gazed at her with such intensity and need. She didn’t know how he could hold himself back anymore. She wouldn’t have been able to.

“Say it again,” he breathed.

“I need you,” she repeated without hesitation, and even just her words made his stallionhood give another excited jolt inside her.

“Once more,” he said, at long last beginning to move and give Twilight what she yearned so much for. And even though it was still restrained, she could tell he was just about to give in, his lust finally about spill over. She was more than happy to give him the last push he needed.

“I need you,” she whispered for the last time, and that was all it took.

With a low, deep growl, Night Light seized her with newfound vigour and pulled her down onto him, thrusting into her deeply at the same time, at last starting to fuck her like she’d begged him to. It wasn’t just pillow talk – she did need him, need this, and as he took her against the wall she couldn’t help but smile.

Shining didn’t seem so important anymore. Even he couldn’t taint this, make this any less perfect, Night Light’s thrusts eager and strong and each filled with an intensity that made her gasp and quiver against the wall. Her brother was cast from her mind without a glimmer of doubt that anything about this could be wrong.

Or at least, that’s what Twilight wanted to happen. It was what she was sure should have happened – simply being with Night Light enough to make her forget – but it was a lie.

Even as her father grunted and rutted her the way she dreamed he would, even as her body tingled and shuddered and made her grit her teeth to keep herself from crying out, it wasn’t enough. Her mane was slick with sweat, and Night Light’s body was pressed so tightly to her as she clutched herself against him, and it was almost unbearably hot and passionate and wonderful and all she could see was Shining’s face twisted in anger and hurt.

She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. She just wanted this, the impassioned gasps in between long and lustful kisses that only ended because they both had to breathe. She wanted the feel of Night Light’s chest against her now, broad and powerful, pressing her roughly against the wall each time he thrust himself oh so deeply into her. And she wanted that, too. His stallionhood, long and thick and so hard all because of her, twitching and throbbing every time he filled her. But most of all, she wanted Night Light. Most of all she wanted to do this with the pony she’d fallen in love with.

And how could she ever make Shining understand that? How could she make anyone understand that, to her, it didn’t matter that Night Light was her father. Or it did, but not in the way they’d expect. It mattered because she knew he’d do anything for her, to keep her safe, and even as he fucked her hard against the wall she felt so secure and happy encircled in his hooves.

Three months ago, Twilight couldn’t have understood it either.

Her father gasped suddenly, clutching her mane. Twilight kept her hindlegs wrapped around his waist, giving him only the slightest freedom to pull out of her as he gave a couple more erratic bucks and then buried himself as deeply inside her as he could as he came. He held her there for a minute or so, panting heavily against her neck as Twilight hugged him. And when he did pull away, letting Twilight gently down onto shaking hooves, it was with a sigh of resignation. It seemed as though he was as reluctant for it to end as she was, but they had already taken all the time they could. The windows were dark, and even though the moon hadn’t yet started to show itself, they’d definitely spent too much time lost in each other.

Night Light gave her a soft, tender kiss, and although the lustful passion wasn’t there anymore, Twilight could tell it held as much love for her as always, and even as he pulled away Twilight fancied she could still feel his lips against hers.

“You have to talk to Shining,” he said. “I know it’s not fair, and I’d go with you if I thought for a moment it would help. But it has to be just you.”

“No, it’s okay,” Twilight replied, dispelling her shield on the door and neatening her mane with her magic (all while subtly cleaning somewhere that needed it even more). Her head still ached when she lit her horn, but Twilight was thankful it had already subsided from earlier. She’d had a small, niggling fear the damage might have been permanent. “I get it.”

He kissed her again, on the forehead this time. “I know you do. And I know you can get Shining to come around.”

That part Twilight wasn’t so sure about, but she had to try.

Her father’s tone grew more serious. “Do you think you can find him again?”

She shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not he wants me to.”

***

Twilight sat down. Shining didn’t look up, though he must have heard her come in. He must have heard her pull the chair back and sink into it, but he kept staring intently at the chessboard, as if he could move the pieces simply by thinking about it hard enough. Twilight doubted he was even looking at the board, not really.

“Do you want to play?” she asked. It was stupid, of course, but it was something.

“No.” But he kept staring at the pieces.

He wanted to talk to her, she knew that much. There was no other reason he would have come to the games room unless he was waiting for her to find him. The moon was up now, peeking over the trees just enough to shine pale slivers through the window onto the chess set in front of them. Other than that, they were sitting together in the dark.

“How did you convince Mom and Cadance to let you come back on your own?” he asked.

Another meaningless question, from him this time. But at least it was getting closer to what mattered.

“Oh, I… I teleported.”

And at last that got a reaction out of him. He snapped upright so quickly that Twilight heard his neck click. “You teleported? From Haystead?”

She nodded, and Shining made a strange, half-strangled noise in his throat.

“How could you be so stupid, Twilight? You could have killed yourself.”

“I was scared! I’d just found out you sent us all away to be alone with Night Light, and I was worried you’d-”

“Worried I’d what?” he snapped. “He’s my Dad too, I wasn’t going to hurt him.”

“You hit him.”

“And he deserved every bit of it. He’s not worth putting yourself in danger like that for.” Shining reached over and took her hooves in his own. “Twily, you know I’m only angry because I care about you.”

There it was again. Because I care about you. Her father had said that was Shining’s motive too, but Twilight wasn’t so sure. Nothing her brother had done suggested that was the case, and his anger only pushed her further and further away. If he cared, he’d give her support, not accusations. He wouldn’t abandon her now. “I don’t think you do. You don’t get to pretend to care only when it suits you.”

“Twilight…”

“And even if you did, you just want to blame Dad for all of this.”

“Of course I do. Whatever you say, relationships work both ways, and he should know better.”

Twilight pulled her hooves away. “And I shouldn’t? I’m not a foal anymore.”

“No, but…” Shining leaned closer. “When have you ever had a serious relationship before?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I just mean that you might be a bit immature when it comes to this kind of thing. You think you’re in love, but if this is your first time then-”

“You never had a serious relationship before Cadance,” Twilight interrupted. She was the one getting angry now – how dare Shining suggest that what she had with Night Light was anything less than it was?

“That’s different,” he said.

“Saying that doesn’t make it true. You’re just telling me what you want to believe, and hoping that’ll make it real.”

“Cadance wasn’t married. She was only a couple of years older than me, too.”

“She was still older,” said Twilight. “She was a Princess. She was our babysitter. Shouldn’t she have known better?”

Shining didn’t reply right away. “What about Mom?” he asked, eventually. “Doesn’t she matter to you at all? Don’t you even care a little bit about her?”

“Did you know she cheated on Dad?” Twilight had almost been waiting to say that. She’d known he was going to ask about Mom at some point, and was already expecting and slightly looking forward to the inevitable look of surprise he’d give her, maybe even some stammering denial or more angry yelling.

Shining didn’t even blink.

“Yes,” he said. “She told me.”

And so it was Twilight who ended up speechless.

“She wanted to tell you too,” he continued, “but she was so worried about you. Mom didn’t want to put any more stress on you until you’d sorted out whatever was wrong.”

“So why are you so quick to defend her?” asked Twilight, with more bitterness than she thought she meant.

“Because she made a mistake,” said Shining, “and she’s trying to fix it with everything she can. And now I know she’s fighting a losing battle, and if I tell her why I don’t know what she’ll do.”

“So you think it’s my fault they’re falling apart? I heard them arguing, how angry they were. Do you really think Dad could forgive her if he didn’t have me?”

Shining flinched at that last question, but he quickly composed himself. “I have to. I have to believe it’s something that can be forgiven, or how else is Cadance ever supposed to forgive me?”

That took a moment to sink in. Surely he wasn’t saying what she thought he was. Her brother loved Cadance more than anything, there was no way he could have slept with someone else. “You didn’t-?”

“You know I did,” he said, interrupting her before she’d barely started the question. Shining sunk back in his chair and sighed. “She looked just like Cadance. Acted like her, even used my memories of Cadance to become her completely. Chrysalis fooled everyone, including the one pony who definitely should have seen it.”

Oh. Of course.

“That’s not the same at all,” said Twilight.

“Saying that doesn’t make it true, right?” he replied, with a sad smile.

“She hypnotised you.”

“I still slept with someone else. Hell, a different species. If it’s unforgivable, then I lose her.”

Twilight still wasn’t convinced. “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t mean Dad will ever forgive Mom. It doesn’t even mean he should.”

Shining laughed, and the sound was like splitting wood. “If he ever had any moral high ground, he doesn’t anymore. And either way, we’ll never know for sure as long as you two are fucking. You’re not giving him a reason to try.”

Twilight crinkled her muzzle at her brother’s crude language. It wasn’t exactly wrong, but the dismissive note in it made her suspect that her brother had simply replaced his anger with derision. It wasn’t an improvement. “Don’t call it that.”

“It is what it is, no matter how much you want to dress it up.” Shining shook his head, watching her with a kind of sickened bemusement. “What happened to you, Twily? I still remember when you used to run into my room at night, crying because you’d had a bad dream that science was wrong.”

“I grew up.”

“Did you?” His gaze hardened. “Forget it, here’s where we stand. You don’t want me to tell Mom, and I don’t want to be the one who does that to her. But I’m not going to cover for you two while you run around behind her back either. This ends now.”

Twilight winced. She’d seen this coming. She’d hoped against hope he wouldn’t ask that, wouldn’t make her do this, but she’d known the conversation would end like this right from the start.

“You can’t ask me to do that,” she said.

“I can and I did. And I mean it.”

“What if-”

“No what if’s, no buts, no anything. I’m not budging on this. It’s already more than you deserve.”

His words stung. They were cold and sharp, biting into her. Her brother had never spoken to her like that before, and it hurt.

“Do you hate me?” she asked, quietly.

He took a long time to answer. “No. But I feel like I should.”

Twilight felt her breath run out of her without meaning to let it go. There was no going back anymore. Her brother would always look at her and see the mare beneath her father, moaning lustfully. He’d see the mare who spotted him hiding behind the door and gasped; the purest admission of guilt. He’d see the mare who tearfully shouted that she loved Night Light with everything she had, and meant it. And he would hate her for it, no matter what he said.

“I need an answer, Twilight,” Shining muttered. His voice was cracking around the edges, and despite his still-lingering anger he was on the brink of tears of his own.

And what else could she say?

“Okay,” she whispered.

Shining nodded. “Promise me. I’ll know if you lie.”

She looked up at him, really looking for the first time. Shining’s blue mane was lifeless and messy, his eyes sunken, surrounded by dark rings and filled with a terrible, empty anticipation. Twilight could see how much this meant to him, how hard it was going to be for him to keep this to himself. And she saw that he meant everything he said. If she didn’t promise, right here and now, he’d tell Velvet as soon as she could. And he’d know if she was lying. He always did.

She didn’t have a choice.

“I promise,” said Twilight, her voice trembling as badly as her hooves. “It’s over.”

9. Love is Blind

The moon hung in the black of its night, wisps of cloud dusting the surface but doing little to mask the glow that burned the sky. It was an unusually quiet evening, and from Celestia’s balcony it was practically silent, save for the soft sound of the Princess’ breathing. Looking at the moon still gave Twilight a deep sense of unease – so still that it was hard to believe it would ever make way for Celestia to raise her sun. It had been nearly two weeks since Nightmare Moon’s fall, and Twilight wondered if that faint concern would ever truly fade.

“You want to ask me something,” Celestia said. “And you don’t think you should.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t judgemental either, or dismissive. It simply was.

Twilight gave her a surprised look, and Celestia laughed softly.

“Oh Twilight, please give me some credit. Whenever you want to ask a question like that, you take a sudden and intense interest in everything other than me. Every time.” Celestia’s smile became more sympathetic. “Ask. I’m sure it’s important.”

Twilight took a moment to reply, bracing herself. The Princess was right; this would only gnaw at her otherwise. “Was it hard to forgive Luna?”

“Ah.” Celestia said, and then fell silent.

She didn’t say anything more for a long time. This was, unequivocally, a Bad Sign. Twilight had only made the monarch go quiet like that twice while under her tutelage; once when asking if Celestia was immortal, and again when she consulted the Princess regarding a scandalous schoolyard rumour that stallions could shoot foals into mares with their penises.

All these years later, and that silence still made Twilight nervous.

At last, Celestia broke it. “The privilege of forgiveness was Luna’s to give, not mine.”

“But she nearly conquered Equestria!” Twilight protested.

“Nightmare Moon is not my sister. I would never hold Luna accountable for that monster’s actions.” Celestia sighed, long and tired. “Mine have no such excuse.”

“You mean banishing her? It was all you could do; you can’t blame yourself for that.”

“Oh, but I can,” Celestia said. “For that, and the neglect that allowed it to get that far. I could have – should have – stopped the darkness long before it consumed my sister.”

“That’s not true,” Twilight insisted. “Sometimes you just can’t help.”

“And sometimes another pony is the only thing that can help. I’m far from infallible, Twilight, and this mistake is one I have always regretted. I wasn’t there for Luna when she needed me most.” Celestia was watching the moon now, her mouth a thin line, eyes shining in its light. “And I have had a thousand years to remember that.”

“To answer your question,” Celestia continued after a moment, “Luna forgave me freely, regardless of whether or not I deserved it.”

“Just like that?” Twilight asked, her voice betraying her incredulity.

“Just like that,” Celestia answered. The princess gave Twilight a strange smile, one that could have been either happy or sad. Maybe it was both.

Maybe it was neither.

“Do you know how old we are, Twilight?”

Twilight thought for a moment. She remembered reading about their coronation in the founding of Equestria, and that was at least three thousand years ago. But surely they must have been around longer than that?

“Four thousand?” she hazarded.

Celestia chuckled quietly. “An underestimate, and quite a large one I’m afraid, but I’ll take it as a compliment. I ask because I don’t think many ponies can appreciate how long a thousand years is. Over ten lifetimes, for most. And yet, when you live as long as my sister and I, time takes on a different role. An unstoppable force, not sand falling through an hourglass. It never runs out, it just rolls on, forever. I won’t pretend Luna’s exile passed quickly, but it was a different kind of wait. I think one day you’ll come understand that, too.”

Twilight wasn’t sure what Celestia meant by that, but the Princess wasn’t finished, sweeping on without explanation.

“But I believe there’s always room for forgiveness with family. For most, life is too short, and for us it is too long, but the result is the same. Forgiveness is at the heart of our nature.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy,” said Twilight. She couldn’t imagine ever being able to forgive Shining for locking her away for even ten years, let alone a thousand. She couldn’t imagine forgiving him if he betrayed her the way Luna had betrayed Celestia, either.

“Easy? Oh, no, quite the opposite.” Celestia was watching Luna’s moon again. Maybe it was the pale night, making all the world’s shadows seem even darker, but the Princess looked incredibly tired. More so than Twilight had ever seen in the past. “But if it was easy, it would be meaningless.”

***

The worst part about returning to her father was the look on his face when he turned around. He’d been pacing nervously in circles as she entered, so absorbed in his thoughts she had to cough loudly before he noticed her. And when he did, and he looked up and his face was so full of hesitant hope, Twilight’s heart broke all over again.

“What did he say?” Night Light asked. There was none of the confidence she’d come to expect from him, even in the most dire circumstances they’d already faced. Instead his voice was tinged with worry, concern, and something much worse. Something no one ever wants to hear from one of their parents.

Fear.

“He’s not going to tell anyone,” she said, and the look of relief that passed over Night Light’s face hurt more than anything Shining had said to her, knowing that what she said next would kill it. “But only if we stop.”

It took a moment for that to register, for Night Light’s smile to freeze and falter, and for that flaring hope in his eyes to sputter and die. Her father crumpled, falling to his haunches, and as much as Twilight wanted to rush over and hug him, she couldn’t. She was scared the same would happen to her if she tried; her legs were shaking already.

When he spoke, there was a croak of barely restrained tears in his voice. “There was nothing you could-?”

“No.”

“What if you go back? You could talk to him again, see if-”

“No.”

“But if-”

“No.” Each time it twisted the knife deeper, hurt Twilight more and more as she was forced to give yet another swing of the axe. She wished he would stop making her say it. She didn’t know how much longer she could watch him flinch at her sharp tone.

You have to do this. It’s the only way.

Quick and clean, she’d decided on the all-too-long walk back here. That was the only way this could work, but she’d already messed it up. This was anything but quick, and Twilight had been lying to herself when she’d pretended it could ever be clean.

“So, what? We just... stop? It doesn’t work like that, kiddo, you know that.”

“This time it does,” she said. “It has to.”

“Why? We kept it a secret before, we can do it again. We’ll be more careful this time, Shining won’t even-”

“Don’t you get it?” Twilight hissed, her eyes starting to sting. “There isn’t going to be a ‘this time’. Even if it’s not Shining, someone will notice. Someone always will. If we try again we’d just be making everything even messier.”

Night Light stood. He wasn’t that defeated stallion anymore; his eyes were hard and set, and his front hoof ground restlessly against the floor. Twilight didn’t think he even knew he was doing it. “No,” he said. “I won’t let Shining stop this. We can do better. And even if things went wrong again, we could leave if it came to it.”

“And go where? We’ve got too much to lose to leave it all behind.”

“I don’t!” Night Light snapped, his voice more desperate than angry. “I’ve got nothing without you. Velvet, now Shining – I’ve already thrown everything away for you, Twilight. You can’t ask me to give you up as well.”

He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel his breath against her, as close as they’d been on those tender mornings this past week, the ones where she’d nestled into his fur and nothing could have been more right.

Now, though, Twilight took a step back, and she’d never seen so much hurt in his eyes as when she did that.

“You wanted this, what we have,” Night Light said. “Right from the start, this was what you wanted.”

“I know.”

“And you still do. You want this as much as I do. More, even. This… this is just a bump. We can still deal with this.”

Twilight wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe him so badly.

She knew he was wrong, but it didn’t stop her wanting to believe.

“We can’t,” she whispered. “No matter how much we want to.”

He stepped closer again, and this time Twilight didn’t step away. His hoof came up to her face, gently brushing away the few rebellious tears that spilled from the corners of her eyes.

“We can still try,” he said, the words soft but still so heavy. “Can’t we?”

The door slammed open, and Night Light leapt back as if he’d been stung. Before Twilight even had time to register the pale streak coming through the doorway as a pony, her mother’s hooves were around her. The embrace was paired with the expected concern

Where did you go?

We were looking everywhere for you

You have to tell us before running off like that

while Twilight buried the urge to tell her mother she wasn’t a foal anymore, and instead took the opportunity to try and dry her eyes before Velvet noticed. In the doorway stood Cadance, wearing an apologetic smile, and beside her Shining Armor, who wore no smile at all.

The other two mares remained oblivious to the disgusted way he refused to even look in Night Light’s direction. Instead Shining stared only at Twilight, intense and scowling, trying to read her face. Trying to see if she’d listened.

“Sorry Mom,” Twilight said as she finally managed to extricate herself from Velvet’s hug. “I wasn’t feeling well, so I caught the next train back. I should’ve told you where I was going.”

She gave a nervous glance to Cadance, who frowned but said nothing. Twilight knew she wouldn’t have looked particularly ill cantering down the tower’s steps away from her sister-in-law, but Cadance seemed willing to let Twilight’s excuse slide, at least for now. The lies were quickly piling up, though, and Twilight had no idea how she’d explain it to Cadance if she had to. Cross that bridge when you come to it, she decided – a strategy that so far hadn’t been working out for her, but it was the only one Twilight had.

“Yes, you should have,” Velvet replied, and although it was stern Twilight could hear the tinge of relief beneath it. And by the time she asked her next question, any harshness was completely gone from her voice. “Are you feeling better now?” she asked, already beginning to fuss over Twilight a little too much, pressing a hoof to her forehead to feel her temperature.

“Much better.”

“Good, that’s good,” Velvet replied. “Just in time for dinner, which I’m sure the stallions of the house will graciously volunteer to make tonight.” She shot a pointed look at her husband, who was staring at the carpet. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

Night Light jumped. “Oh, right. I guess it’s our turn. Er, Shining?”

Shining Armor took a little too long to reply, glowering at his father, and when he did answer his voice was flat and empty. “I guess so.”

“Be careful you don’t sound too enthusiastic,” Cadance said, laughing as she wrapped a hoof around him and started pulling him towards the door. “I’ll come too, I want to see if having servants at your beck and call has ruined your cooking.”

“It wasn’t the servants that did that,” replied Velvet with a wide smile. Her eyes didn’t smile with the rest of her, though. Instead she gave Cadance an almost imperceptible nod, one only Twilight seemed to notice as the two stallions were reluctantly lead out of the room. Velvet’s horn lit up briefly, shutting the door between a sharp click, and then Twilight and her mother were alone.

“You wanted to get rid of them,” Twilight remarked. She wasn’t entirely sure what was going on here, but she knew she wasn’t going to like it.

“I did,” said Velvet, her false smile completely gone. “Cadance was happy to help with that, but I know I have to explain everything to her soon. I’m not looking forward to doing that. You and I needed to talk, though, and I didn’t want you running away again.” Velvet sighed. “I know,” she announced.

For just a moment, Twilight stomach curled in on itself. Just a moment, and then she realised how stupid and jumpy she was being. Velvet couldn’t know. This… resignation wasn’t how she would act if she knew her husband had been sleeping with their daughter. No, this was something else.

“I should have seen it coming,” Velvet continued, tapping her hindleg repetitively against the chair she’d settled into. “You two were always so close, but I just… I just hoped I’d have the chance to explain myself before he told you.” She swallowed nervously. “But you’ve known about my affair from the start, haven’t you? That’s when the letters stopped, right after I told Night Light and he went away for a few days. He was visiting you, wasn’t he?”

Twilight hesitated, then nodded slowly. It was a lie, but a convenient one. Now this was all beginning to make sense, and not just as to why Velvet wanted to talk. This was why Night Light had been in Ponyville that evening, the one where

Fuck this mare sure is tight

everything started. He’d been coming to see her. And then he’d found that place instead somehow, the one with the blindfolds, and the hoofcuffs, and… And then he hadn’t come to see her after all. Perhaps he felt guilty, perhaps he’d changed his mind even before then. It didn’t matter really; the damage had already been done.

“I knew it,” Velvet said. “Oh goddess, I’m so sorry Twilight. I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

It wasn’t true, but it would probably have been better than hearing Velvet and Night Light argue like that. It would probably have been better than finding out after everything, after she and her father had already made love. And before that, in that place, when it was just fucking and love hadn’t even been a part of it.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you about it ever since we got here,” Velvet said. She’d stopped tapping her hooves now. Now she was just shaking. “And when I thought I’d finally worked up the courage to talk to you in your room I… I couldn’t do it. You must hate me right now.”

“No, of course not,” said Twilight, her mouth so dry her tongue stuck to the roof. That much was true, at least. If anyone deserved hate in this room, it was Twilight.

Velvet closed her eyes, and let out a long breath. “I didn’t mean to,” she said. “I know that’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth. I never set out to hurt anyone, especially not your father. I’m not… I’m not a bad pony.” She stumbled over that last sentence, like she didn’t entirely believe it herself. “I just did a bad thing, a stupid thing, and I’d take it back in a heartbeat if I could. Please, you have to believe that, Twilight.”

Velvet paused, waiting for some kind of confirmation from her daughter. It never came. Twilight had none to give, staring dumbly at her hooves, crushing guilt gnawing at her chest. With every tortured word from her mother’s mouth she tried to sink deeper and deeper into her chair.

“He was an old friend of mine,” Velvet continued hesitantly, once it was clear Twilight wasn’t going to say anything. “We hadn’t seen each other in years, and then we met again through work, purely by chance, and he asked me out for dinner. Nothing romantic or anything, just to catch up. And so I said yes, and he was charming, and handsome, and…” Velvet coughed. “Well, we started to meet more regularly. He was divorced, and lonely I think. But it was still just as friends, or at least that’s what I thought it was. Until the evening he kissed me.”

Twilight remained silent, letting the words wash over her. She didn’t want to hear this. Was this how her mother had told Night Light, she wondered? Had he sat in the same way she did now, numb and empty? She doubted that. She’d seen how angry he’d been.

And, of course, he hadn’t had the secret inside him that was burning a hole through Twilight’s chest, getting hotter and hotter with every word Velvet spoke. That would come later, for him. But Velvet was so broken over this, and Twilight had done so much worse. Yet here her mother was, hoping for – pleading for – Twilight’s forgiveness of all things.

She felt sick.

“I should have stopped him there, I know,” said Velvet. “Turned him down, cut off contact, anything. But instead I let him. I wanted to let him. It’s not that I didn’t love your father anymore. I still love him, Twilight, more than anything, but... love changes. At first it’s fiery, so hot you’re scared you’re going to burn yourself. As time goes on, it gets deeper than that. You reach a point where you can’t imagine life without that pony. That’s special, Twilight, but it’s not the same. You know you can’t get burned anymore. And I was selfish. I wanted the fire again. I know it’s not an excuse, or even a good reason, but it’s the only one I have.”

Velvet wiped a hoof across her face, drying her eyes as best she could.

“It got harder to hide. I was seeing him more and more, coming up with every excuse under the sun to be away in the evenings. Then one night I came back home late. I’d spent it with him, of course. Night was asleep in the kitchen when I got in, slumped on the table. I was trying to tiptoe around him so I didn’t wake him up, and then I saw them in the moonlight.”

Velvet’s words grew even less sure of themselves, her lower lip starting to tremble. “Roses,” she murmured. “The biggest bouquet you could imagine, sitting in between candles that had gone out long before I got home. I’d forgotten. He’d made me forget. It was our anniversary. Night had waited all evening for me to come home, so we could eat the roses together. And that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that once I woke him up he forgave me. Don’t worry about it, I know you’ve been so busy lately. They’re still good, we can eat them now, he said. You’re worth waiting for. And that’s when I told him everything, because I couldn’t bear to hide it anymore. He didn’t deserve that.”

“You told Dad you were cheating on him on your anniversary?” Twilight struggled and failed to keep the disbelief out of her voice.

“He didn’t tell you that?” Velvet bit her lip. It must have been a little too hard, because she winced. “I didn’t want it to turn out that way, I promise. I just couldn’t lie to him anymore. Night took it about as well as you’d expect.”

I was so angry, Twilight. I wanted to hurt her. The same way she’d hurt me.

“After he’d finished shouting,” Velvet continued, “he went quiet. I couldn’t get him to say anything, no matter how much I begged him to talk to me. That silence was worse than the shouting. And then he left, and didn’t come back for over a week. When he finally did, the first words out of his mouth were him asking if it was over between me and the other stallion. I told him it was.”

Something in her mother’s voice gave Twilight pause – as if Velvet had forced herself to stop the last sentence before the inevitable ‘but’. “Was it?” Twilight asked.

“Yes,” Velvet said, hesitantly, “...but after our argument, I went to see him one more time. I know I shouldn’t have, but I was scared, and I was lonely, and I thought he’d make me feel better. One night was enough to make me realise how wrong I’d been, how big a mistake I’d made. Whatever fire that had been there, it was gone. I didn’t want him, not anymore. I just wanted Night Light back.” She gestured half-heartedly around her. “That’s why we’re here. One last, pathetic attempt to fix things before he tells me he wants a divorce. I thought seeing you and Shining again would help him remember how great we are, as a family, and how much I love him, but he’s only gotten even colder towards me since you two showed up.”

Twilight’s mouth felt so dry, her lips cracking. Velvet could never know whose fault it was that Night Light was acting that way, or why. It would break her – and she seemed on the verge of breaking anyway. How could Shining even think of holding that guillotine over them? Over Velvet? He’d never do that if he truly cared about her.

“I do still love him, Twilight, I want you to know that. I love him with everything I’ve got left. He doesn’t believe me, I know, but deep down I’m sure he still loves me too.” Velvet went quiet for a moment, staring at the floor, and then blinked as if she’d only just remembered Twilight was still in the room. “Maybe it’s too late for that. But however messy it gets between your father and me, you know that I’ll always love you, don’t you? No matter what.”

No matter what.

Twilight wasn’t so sure about that.

***

The pool was still, its surface perfect glass, the moon’s reflection etched into it. Twilight wasn’t entirely sure why she’d found herself out here, only that the house had begun its now familiar trick of feeling all too claustrophobic, even – especially – in her empty bedroom. She’d given up on sleep after hours of restless tossing and turning, and eventually gone for a walk with no real destination in mind. Through the labyrinthine corridors, out across the main hall, through the front doors, and now to the water’s edge where finally she stopped.

Twilight remembered swimming here, on that day when it had been warm enough to be suffocating. It was stunning how much things had changed. Back then they’d all been laughing, a real family, but Twilight was starting to believe that everyone had been acting all along. Not just her. Maybe now she was finally seeing the truth of the Sparkle family, secrets that had been boiling under the surface becoming too much to keep hidden anymore.

She stepped forward, letting her front hooves be swallowed up by the cool water. The motion sent ripples across the pool’s surface, fracturing the previously flawless reflection of the night sky.

Twilight didn’t even know if it was her fault anymore. At first it had been all too easy to blame everything on herself. She’d gone to that place, she’d stayed silent when her father removed the gag, she’d let him do everything he wanted. She’d wanted him to do everything. And then she’d pursued him, and the thrill Twilight felt once her father was finally hers, once he’d kissed her and loved her and told her he needed her as badly as she wanted him? That had never gone away, not even a little. And then she’d looked her mother in the eyes as Velvet poured out her heart, and Twilight had said nothing.

She stepped further into the lake. The water swallowed her back hooves now too, high enough to just brush against her barrel at the front and lap gently between her thighs at the back.

Had Twilight been in any other position, the hoof of blame would be pointing squarely at herself. But there was so much more to this. Twilight hadn’t made her mother have an affair, she hadn’t made them fight, she hadn’t meant for Night Light to find her in hoofcuffs. Most of all, Twilight wasn’t to blame for that inexorable pull she felt towards her father. She’d tried to ignore it, tried to fight it. She’d failed.

The water was up to her neck, almost completely submerging her. It had soaked through her coat now, and the cold had reached her skin, little goosebumps sending a not entirely unpleasant tingle over her body.

And now Shining knew, and had given her that impossible choice, and she’d made it knowing she was going to hate it, and now maybe Night Light hated her too, and why couldn’t she stop fucking things up, why couldn’t she just for once make the right choice and do the right thing and then everything could be fine, everything could suddenly be okay. There had to be something she was missing, there always was. Whether it was facing off against Nightmare Moon, or Queen Chrysalis, or even the embodiment of chaos, she and her friends had always come through it. There had always been something just waiting to be realised, and they’d always managed to find it together. But her friends weren’t here now, and this was something she could never drag them into. Even with her father practically begging for her to stay with him she’d never felt so alone. He was there, but he wasn’t there for her anymore; he was too close to her now.

One final step and Twilight was underwater. The sounds of insects and wind she hadn’t even noticed before were replaced by blood rushing through her veins and her own heartbeat as the water surrounded her ears. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut, knowing she wouldn’t have seen anything even if she tried to keep them open. That was okay, more than okay. The floor slipped away as she paddled further towards the lake’s centre, and then Twilight was floating, and it was just her and nothing else.

The last time, she hadn’t stayed down here long, kicking her way back up to the surface to breathe, making sure her family didn’t worry about her being under for so long. This time, that wasn’t an issue. And so she stayed. She stayed where the world was finally silent and even the thoughts spiralling endlessly in her head were gone. She stayed where she’d finally managed to escape everything, leaving it back on the shore behind her. She stayed where she could forget about it all.

But like everything before, even this was cruelly unfair. Even this was going to be taken away from her eventually, when finally she ran out of air and would be forced to kick back up to the surface.

Maybe she could pretend until then, though. She'd like that. To simply float here and pretend she could do it forever. Perhaps that's what she'd been doing all this time anyway, pretending things could stay as they were. Because deep down she must have known, mustn't she? Deep down she must have known that what she and her father had could never last, that it was just another fantasy of hers waiting to fall apart as well. That sooner or later she was going to have to break for the surface and leave it behind.

No, she answered. She hadn't known that. The truth was she'd been naive enough to think she could keep it. Maybe not forever, but certainly longer than this.

She'd been wrong.

And as if as a reminder, her lungs began to protest now, no longer able to keep her underwater where it was peaceful and she could pretend this was all in her head and leave it behind. Back to the reality now, she supposed, back to restlessly tossing and turning in her bed and not sleeping. Back to watching her father longingly whenever her family was all together, and avoiding him when they weren't. Back to Shining's distaste and disapproval, and her mother's loneliness. Twilight could have begun paddling to the surface quicker, but it was far from appealing. And so, even with her body almost screaming at her to resurface, Twilight contented herself with a slow but sure swim back up to the moonlight.

She would be denied even that small rebellion. A pair of hooves hooked beneath her front legs from behind, yanking her abruptly towards the surface. Twilight gasped in surprise at the sudden contact, taking in nothing but water, and so when she and her unknown companion broke the surface it was in a tirade of splutters and panic.

"I've got you kiddo, it's alright, you're okay, it's okay."

Twilight was still trying to cough up the mouthful of lake water that had seemingly lined her lungs, and she couldn't even answer as her father pulled her to the bank and up onto the grass.

"It's okay, you're okay."

Night Light stood to the side, repeating that over and over as Twilight coughed up more water than she could possibly imagine swallowing in one gulp. She wasn't sure which of them he was trying to reassure.

When at last the coughs subsided, Twilight flopped wetly onto the ground, dripping and shivering in the now cold night air.

"I'm okay," she said, her voice croaky and hoarse, and her father dropped down beside her with a loud sigh of relief.

"What the hell were you doing?" he muttered.

"What was I doing?" Twilight turned to her father with a scowl. "What were you doing? I was fine until you surprised me like that."

"You… you were?"

"I can swim, Dad. You should know, you taught me."

"I know you can, of course I know, but you were underwater for so long, and I thought-”

“I was fine,” she insisted, not letting him finish his sentence because she knew it would only worry him, in the way that parents recounting worst case scenarios always grew more and more panicked. “And I’m fine now, too.”

He laughed softly and pulled her in for a hug as they lay together on the grass. He was as wet as she was, but somehow so much warmer, and she snuggled gratefully into his chest. “I may not know much,” he said, “but even I can tell we’re both pretty fucking far from fine.”

Twilight wasn’t really sure how to answer that, and so instead she tried to change the subject. “What were you doing out here?”

“I was following you,” he said. “I heard the front door open and came out to see what you were doing, thinking maybe we could talk. I wasn’t expecting to see you try and drown yourself, or whatever the hell you were doing. You scared me, kiddo.”

“I’m sorry,” Twilight mumbled, her voice muffled even further by her father’s fur as she hugged him tighter. “I just wanted to get away from everything for a little while.”

“Yeah, you and me both.” He put his hooves on her shoulders, pushing her back slightly to look into her eyes, his own deep blue irises almost black in the gloom. “But we’re getting through this, and we’re going to come out the other side okay. I don’t know how yet, but we’ll work it out. Together.”

Twilight didn’t answer, and for a long time they lay there, dripping onto the grass together in silence, content to simply be next to each other.

The kiss was inevitable.

She didn’t stop him this time, didn’t even try, craving his touch and his love as badly as she always had. Night Light’s face was still damp from the lake but so was she and it didn’t matter as he held her tighter, as the kiss became more like the ones they’d shared before, the tentative tenderness and hesitancy burned away as their lust flared through to replace it. Now he was on top of her, and Twilight wasn’t entirely sure how he’d got there, but that was just another thing that didn’t matter.

When she was a little foal, Twilight had always been scared of the mare in the moon watching down at everything did through the night, prying into everyone’s most private moments and watching them sleep. Even though now she knew Luna would never do anything like that even if she could, it didn’t stop her feeling incredibly naked in the moonlight as her father moved down to kiss her chest and her legs began to open out of pure instinct. And, in many ways, she truly was just as naked as she felt. If anyone came outside it wouldn’t be hard at all to find them together, and no excuse would be able to cover for them. Some small, vindictive part of her would almost welcome that, just so Shining wouldn’t have anything to hold over them anymore. For him to have to explain that he’d known Twilight and her father were sleeping together and had hidden it, almost as complicit as they were. The rest of the fallout would never be worth that small pleasure, of course, but it was still fun to imagine.

And then Night Light was between her legs, and his tongue ran up against her, and she stopped imagining anything at all. She didn’t need to anymore, not with him there, pressing into her and lavishing her with all the attention she could ever want. Because this was what she wanted, no matter how much she tried to reason herself out of it, she wanted this. She wanted him. And she wanted him to want her, and as her thighs squeezed his head tighter, that’s exactly what she had.

And it was wrong, and they shouldn’t, and she’d promised Shining they would stop, and right now she didn’t even care as long as he would keep doing that with his tongue, teasing and toying with her and making her back arch against the damp grass. Shining could make their world burn if he found out, and right now it would still be worth it.

I still love him, Twilight.

Night Light hooked his hooves around her legs, holding her tight. He didn’t really need to; she was already pressing his head hard enough against her that his muzzle was almost inside of her, and even that didn’t feel like enough. She wanted to be filled, to feel his length push into her as she pulled him in with her hindlegs around his waist. Instead, his tongue delved into her, and while she still couldn’t help but wriggle at the pleasurable tingles her father’s attentions brought, it was still unfulfilling. A not-quite-right substitute for what she really needed. Close, and wonderful all the same, but still not quite right.

Because what she needed was for him to take her – here, on the grass, the way he’d done all those wonderful times before. She needed him to fuck her, to rut her, his grunts the most genuine affirmation of Night Light’s own need and desire. And, when he was done and he rolled off of her, his warmth filling her in the way that nothing else could, she needed him to hold her tight and close and whisper into her ear that he loved her, and she’d whisper back the same. And then they’d lay here together until the world made it all right for them.

Until the world became fair.

Her legs, previously holding his head so tightly, went limp as they tried both to keep Night Light held between them and instinctively open to let him deeper. He took that as a sign, and his attentions ceased, leaving Twilight trembling and unsatisfied as he moved upwards, his kisses so gentle and soft that if Twilight wasn’t so sensitive right now she probably wouldn’t have been able to feel them at all. But now her body ached for him, for something to bring her to that peak she was so close to cresting. He must have known, and yet he ignored her body’s silent pleas and kept on going slow – terribly, wonderfully slow – right up until he reached her neck and his kisses turned into the lightest of bites. Each one stung just the right amount as she felt his hardness brush against her stomach, as excited and ready for this as she was.

“Stop.”

The murmur was quiet, so quiet that in Twilight’s desperate yearning she wasn’t even sure she’d heard it right. It was her own voice, but it couldn’t have been her, not now. Why would she say something like that when she needed this so badly?

Night Light’s length began to press even more insistently against her navel, practically fucking her fur as he squirmed in desperate lust.

“Stop,” she said again, and all the pleasurable sensations drained away at once as reality soaked back into her – the same unwelcome coldness as when Night Light dragged her up out of the water and into the chilling air. This time she dragged herself into it, the less rational part of Twilight’s mind kicking and screaming and begging her to leave this be, to stop ruining everything and just take what she wanted. What she needed.

What she deserved.

Night Light didn’t seem to notice Twilight’s hoof pushing against his chest, or maybe he did and thought she’d change her mind if he kept kissing, kept nipping, pressed his hips against her with a low growl as his cock brushed through the soft fur on her stomach.

“Dad, stop!” This time almost a shout, and a shove, her voice cracking in what was close to panic, and Night Light finally stumbled back off of her, breathing heavily, his flushed face rapidly changing from one of lust to concern.

“Twilight?”

Twilight climbed to unsteady hooves.

“We can’t,” she said.

He blinked. “We…? What? You just-”

“We can’t,” she repeated, unable to look him in the eye and instead staring down at the wet grass.

“Kiddo, you can’t still say that now. Not after that.” Night Light took a cautious step forward, testing to see if she’d back away. “This is right.”

I still love him, Twilight.

“It’s not. We want it to be, but it isn’t.”

Night Light took a moment to reply, staring at her in disbelief. “I don’t care,” he said.

“What?”

“I don’t care. If it’s wrong, then let’s be wrong.”

Twilight slowly shook her head, hating it, hating this, hating herself for leading him on so much.

I still love him.

Her father’s expression turned to one of complete and utter hopelessness. “Please,” he said, and his plaintive voice was already starting to choke up. “Please don’t do this to me, Twilight. I can’t have this happen again.”

Once more, Twilight had nothing to say. Nothing to say as tears streamed down her father’s face and he did nothing to try and wipe them away. Nothing to say that wouldn’t be a lie they could both see through.

“Don't go," he whispered. "Please."

Silence hung in the air for all too long, until Twilight turned and wordlessly began to walk away, telling herself not to look back, not to turn around because then she would stand no chance of leaving, no chance of doing the right thing rather than everything she wanted so badly to do instead. Just one hoof in front of the other, each feeling like dead weight and taking all her effort as she walked so slowly up the manor’s lawn.

It’s better this way, she told herself, as Night Light called out to her. Over and over again he called her name, getting more and more desperate each time. She didn’t look back. It has to be this way, she affirmed, as her father’s calls turned into a furious shout of frustration. She didn’t look back. And when even that became silence, and Night Light just watched her go, unmoving, Twilight repeated that thought, doing all she could to not notice the world beginning to blur.

And she didn’t look back.

10. Tomorrow Never Lies

Twilight closed her bedroom door behind her with a soft click. The only sound accompanying her on the long walk back had been her own hoofsteps, and now even they were gone and the world was all at once so quiet. A familiar quiet.

“It’s rude to come into a pony’s bedroom without being invited,” she said to the shadows in the corner, where a chair sat, shrouded in the darkness.

“You’re one to talk,” said Shining Armor. “You know, the royal guard should have come to you to learn how you do that – you could teach them a thing or two. I’ve never been able to hide from you.”

“It’s easy,” she replied. “You’re too quiet.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“And that’s why you’ll never be able to hide from me.” Despite herself, despite everything, Twilight smiled. This was good, more like things used to be. It couldn’t last, but for just a moment they were brother and sister again – Shining trying to hide and jump out at her, Twilight pretending she hadn’t seen his hoof sticking out.

As if there wasn’t this time bomb separating the two of them.

“You promised me, Twilight. Right to my face you promised me.”

“What are you saying?”

“I know you and Dad snuck out together.”

Twilight dropped heavily onto the bed and sprawled her limbs against the soft, welcoming sheets. She didn’t need an interrogation right now, not after everything that had just happened, not with her father’s voice still ringing in her ears, desperately calling for her to come back to him. “We did,” she said.

“So you lied to me?”

“No. I didn’t even know he was coming until he showed up. And yes, I kept my promise. Nothing happened. Happy?”

Shining snorted derisively. “Nothing about this makes me happy, Twilight.”

Good.

The thought was so instant and savage that it even took Twilight by surprise. She shook it away, staring resolutely at the ceiling, murky grey in the dim light. “That makes two of us,” she said, unable to entirely keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“I’m not trying to punish you, Twilight.”

“Yes you are,” she replied, and the space between them grew ever larger, a yawning chasm stretching from the edge of the bed all the way to where Shining was sitting, so wide that only words could cross it. She sighed, and tried to sink deeper into her pillow. “But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong.”

For a long time Shining Armor just sat there, the only sound in the otherwise silent room the siblings’ breathing, and the occasional creak as he shifted in his chair. What was he waiting for, she wondered. For her to apologise? To apologise himself? Unlikely. More likely he had nothing left to say, no way to put what he wanted to tell her into words. Twilight knew all too well what that was like.

She almost wished he would just call her a bitch and be done with it. If he hated her for this, it would all be easier. She’d know where he stood, and quite frankly Twilight knew she deserved it. Call her a homewrecker, call her a deviant, a monster. Anything. The fact that Shining Armor was trying so hard not to be angry with her made everything so much more difficult.

“Goodnight, Twily,” he said eventually. Silence was his only answer.

She didn’t even look at him as he left, and that vindictive part of Twilight cheered at the sound of his soft hoofsteps against the carpet, the click of the door closing behind him

It was a small victory in the grand scheme of things, if even that. Not even a pyrrhic one, really, but Twilight relished it all the same. She lay there in the gloom, alone, and all she had left was that fleeting moment of satisfied vitriol. He was right, she knew he was right, and she hated it more than anything. She wanted Night Light beside her right then, to hold and hug and kiss and just be there, warm and safe. She wanted him to love her the way she needed him to, not the way he should. And yet she herself had pushed him away, had left him by the lake, shouting after her in hurt anger. It was her choice, her fault.

And so here she was – alone in the dark, glad that Shining had left so he wouldn’t hear the muted sobs into her pillow.

***

Twilight sat, and listened to the rain.

It was always so good at helping her think. She would sit in the library and listen to it splashing against the bark, and the leaves, and problems and equations that had seemed so impossible suddenly cleared and everything made sense. Sometimes if she was wrestling with a particularly difficult problem she’d bug Rainbow Dash to bring the rain a couple of days earlier. Sometimes Dash even did.

And so she listened to the rain crash against the windows and waited for everything to become clear, like it always did.

And waited.

And waited.

Earlier, Twilight had seen her father for the first time since she’d left him by the lake. He’d become even more reclusive since then, a whole day going past with him nowhere to be seen. Privately, she’d been thanking Celestia for that, but she also knew how much he was hurting, and an equal part of her wished she could take everything back. Could agree to his wild assurance that they could make it work, no matter how much they both knew he was wrong.

A lot of things had hurt Twilight these past weeks, most of them her own fault, but none had hurt more than her father’s reaction when they met in the corridor outside the bathroom, his mane still damp from the shower. She’d been expecting anger, she’d been expecting pain, she’d even been expecting hate, although that would have ripped a hole through her heart almost as badly.

But Night Light had shown none of those things.

Instead, as she looked up at him, hesitantly, Night Light just walked past her, refusing to even glance in her direction, instead staring resolutely down the corridor. Like she wasn’t even there.

And that had hurt far more than any of her imagined meetings had. As much as they would have stung, she could have dealt with it. She could have taken his anger, his hate, his hurt. She knew she deserved that. But with all those things, it would be okay because they would come from a place of love, and that could be fixed. Somehow, she knew it could be fixed.

She didn’t know how to fix this.

She didn’t know if she could.

And so now she sat and waited, and the rain kept falling, and her thoughts kept spinning round and round until it was impossible to think of anything but how much she wished she could take it all back. How much she’d fucked everything up.

The rain didn’t help. It sounded wrong, she decided. The splashes against the glass were too different to the warm pattering against bark that she was used to. That was comforting, encompassing, like a hug when one was most needed. This was hooves down a chalkboard.

And the answers remained ever out of reach.

Oh, but my little pony, said that faux-Celestia voice, returning from wherever it had been buried in her subconscious by Twilight’s brief happiness. Twilight was almost glad to hear it again. She deserved it. That’s not true, is it? You know exactly what to do.

Twilight scowled at the grey sky outside the window. No I don’t. If I did, I wouldn’t still be sitting here.

What do you do if the question you’re trying to solve doesn’t have an answer?

No. Twilight wasn’t going to give up. There had to be an answer, some way to come out of this without tearing their family apart, to fix what she’d broken. And maybe a way to fix how she felt, too.

You don’t have to give up. You just have to find a different question.

A different question? That didn’t make any sense. Well, at least as far as talking to herself had ever made sense. But no, she could figure this out. She always had done in the past, with enough time.

You’ve been so busy trying to work out how to fix things, you’ve forgotten to ask yourself the one question that matters. Stop asking what you can do, and instead ask what you should do.

That’s not helpful.

If there’s one thing I’ve ever tried to teach you, Twilight, it’s that being clever is far less important than being good. Don’t try to fix things. Try to make them right. Be good.

Oh. That.

That one, terrible, impossible thing. The one thing she wanted to avoid more than anything. The nuclear option.

The truth.

Shining had held it over her head, Night Light had insisted she keep it buried forever, and yet it had been burning a hole right through Twilight ever since they’d been found out. She could take away Shining’s weapon, tear down the wall her father had put up, shed the guilt eating her away, and all it would cost was ripping her family apart forever.

She remembered her mother, sitting there, tears coursing down her cheeks, telling Twilight that she would love her no matter what happened. Velvet had no idea, and Twilight couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bear to watch her mother turn from love to scorn, couldn’t bear to tell her that every member of her family had betrayed her in the most damning of ways since they’d come here.

And yet, Twilight had to. No, it wasn’t clever, it wasn’t a solution, in fact it would only make everything so much worse. But it was right.

Velvet had been lied to and betrayed, and yet she was the one blaming herself as her family fell apart around her. She didn’t deserve that. Even after what she’d done, she didn’t deserve that.

And, even if it was selfish, Twilight was done.

Done with Shining judging her with contempt in every glance, watching her every move to make sure she never crossed the line again. Done with seeing her mother tear herself up over unfaithfulness that was nothing compared to her husband and daughter’s. Done with sitting alone in rooms that felt all too big and empty like this one, waiting for answers that would never come, waiting to see if she would ever stop wanting to be with Night Light and nothing else. Done with the secrets, the guilt, the emptiness.

Twilight was going to tell Velvet everything.

And it would hurt, it would hurt worse than anything she’d done so far, but it would be a good hurt. A clean hurt.

The truth always was.

***

When Twilight finally found her mother, sprawled out on a chaise longue in one of the mansion’s many tucked away sitting rooms, a glass of wine in her hoof and a half-drunk bottle of the same on the floor beside her, Twilight’s resolve had mostly faded. It had been replaced almost entirely by fear, and the knowledge that what she was about to do was probably the stupidest thing she’d done since telling Night Light exactly which mare he’d fucked in those hoofcuffs all those nights ago.

And yet, faux-Celestia was right. This wasn’t about being clever. This was about being good. The state Velvet was in when Twilight found her showed what trying to be clever had accomplished.

Her mother’s mane was messy and matted, her fur almost equally so. She had curled up into a ball on the sofa, the only extended part of her the hoof holding her wine glass. It was shaking, and it took Twilight a moment to realise that was from Velvet quietly crying, her head buried against her other foreleg.

This was all her fault. Velvet’s entire life was collapsing around her and it was all Twilight’s doing. She’d done so much worse than her mother, and yet here Velvet was, blaming herself as the family disintegrated from the filthy secrets lying below the surface.

“Hey Mom,” Twilight said. She could hear the strain in her own voice – the nervousness, the sadness, the guilt. She just had to hope Velvet couldn’t hear it too, although she supposed it wouldn’t matter soon enough.

Her mother lifted up her head, eyes bloodshot. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said, her voice cracked and dry. The genuine smile she gave Twilight only dug even deeper. “Sorry, I’m… Do you want a drink?” Velvet lifted the wine bottle, giving it a little shake for emphasis.

Twilight nodded, settling herself in an armchair beside her mother. A drink would help.

“It’s good. I hope the Princess won’t mind; she has a whole cellar full of the stuff.” Velvet looked around for a second, then shrugged and topped off her glass before handing it over.

Twilight took a sip, and wrinkled her nose. She’d never really had a taste for a wine. Still, it might help calm her nerves, if anything could with the gravity of what she was about to do.

For a while they sat in silence, Twilight trying to build up the courage to say what she needed to say, Velvet staring up at the ceiling and periodically taking a swig straight from the bottle.

Eventually her mother spoke. “I’d take it all back if I could.”

Twilight was about to reply, to tell her she shouldn’t feel guilty, but Velvet soldiered on with that kind of doggedness that could only come from the wine.

“I kept asking myself if I would, but I know now. Not just because it all came out. I wouldn’t just take back the bit where I told Night Light. I’d take back everything. The whole thing was a mistake, and do you want to know the worst part?”

Twilight didn’t.

“I don’t even know why I did it,” said Velvet. “I knew I still loved Night. I knew it was dumb, that it could ruin everything, and I did it anyway.” She sighed and took another long sip from the bottle. “I keep thinking about it and I can’t remember why I said yes to that stallion. Why I kept saying yes. Why it had that fire. Did I just like the attention? Maybe I just wanted to feel desirable again. I don’t know. But I said yes, and kept saying yes, and here we are. Night Light deserves better than me. He deserves better than what I did to him, and I think I deserve this. Some mistakes can’t be fixed.”

“Mom, stop.”

“You don’t have to play nice, Twilight. Shining was doing that too, but I can tell he judges me. I know you do too.”

“I don’t,” said Twilight. How could she possibly judge her mother’s indiscretions now, after everything?

Velvet gave her a long, searching look, trying to find any hint of deception in her daughter’s face, then sighed and slumped back against the cushions. “Well, perhaps you should.”

“At least you would take it back,” said Twilight, quietly. “That has to count for something.”

“What kind of pony wouldn’t?” asked Velvet. “After I’ve seen how much it hurt every single pony I care about. Your father, your brother, you. I would never choose to put you all through this if I could change things. I wouldn’t be that selfish again.”

Twilight couldn’t even look her mother in the eyes now, staring down at the drink in her hooves, the gently swirling red almost hypnotic. “Mom, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, honey?”

“I.. I…”

The words caught in her throat. The world slowed and blurred. Twilight didn’t even realise how badly she was shaking until her mother had crossed the room and wrapped her in her hooves, not understanding but instantly ready to comfort her, even if she didn’t deserve it. The glass dropped from Twilight’s grip, a splash of blood red staining the carpet. Velvet was holding her and stroking her mane, and muttering how it was alright, how everything was going to be alright, to just take her time and cry if that’s what she needed to do.

And maybe that was all she needed to do right then. For the first time since Shining had discovered them, she could just allow an embrace and let out all the frustration and guilt as she sobbed into her mother’s shoulder. There was no way she could keep hiding this – her mother deserved the only kind thing Twilight had left to do. She needed the truth.

When Twilight finally stopped crying, she found herself curled up almost into a ball, her head resting on her mother’s lap as Velvet gently stroked her mane and hummed softly. It was the same song she had always hummed for Twilight when she needed comfort, although the last time had been back when Twilight was just a little foal. Back when her only worries had been school bullies and impressing Celestia and not flunking tests.

And yet, despite the magnitude of this situation in comparison, Twilight still found herself relaxing as the wordless tune washed over her, clearing away the tumultuous thoughts that had plagued her and leaving her hollow and empty. It was a good emptiness, though, like being scrubbed so clean that it hurt a little.

By the time Twilight sat back up again, any last doubts had been cleared away with the rest of it. This was good. This needed to be done, no matter how much it would hurt.

“Are you okay now?” asked Velvet, her voice filled with gentle concern.

Twilight simply nodded, still not quite able to find her words just yet, rubbing her damp eyes with her hooves.

“Take your time,” said Velvet. “I can wait.”

And Twilight did, glad of every moment she could spend here, even if it was only staving off the inevitable. She closed her eyes, enjoying the peace of the moment, her mother’s love so unconditional, so kind. No questions, no judgement, just patience and support.

Twilight wished she had been this good to Velvet.

Wished she had been there to comfort her mother when she needed it just as her mother was here for her now. What kind of terrible pony would let their mother comfort the guilt of betraying her?

This kind, Twilight supposed. And, just this once, Twilight managed to push that nagging voice aside and just enjoy the moment. Because despite it all, despite that terrible guillotine of inevitability hanging over her, this was comforting. The smell of her mother’s fur, the gently soothing touch as Velvet ran her hoof through her mane, that feeling of security that was still just as nice now as it had been when Twilight was a foal. She was safe here. She was okay here. She could forget the world here, and just lie still and not worry about anything.

And this was the mare whose life she was about to ruin even more. The guillotine dropped. Twilight opened her eyes, shifting her mother’s hooves and feeling that warm comfort pour away like water.

She turned to her mother again, who sat there with a reassuring smile, waiting patiently for Twilight to be ready.

Twilight would never be ready for this, but it was time.

“Mom, I have to tell you something. Before I do, I want to say that I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t want things to end up like this. I still don’t know why I… I just wanted…”

Velvet hugged her again, pulling her in tightly. “It’s okay, honey. Whatever it is, you can tell me. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” Twilight shouted, much louder than she meant, and Velvet started back in surprise. “None of this is okay. Stop saying it is.”

Something in Velvet’s face changed then, from the calm concern from before to genuine worry as she saw the seriousness of her daughter’s anguish. “What is it? Is it about me and your father?”

“It’s about me,” Twilight said. This was it. She felt numb, the words beginning to tumble from her before she could think too hard about them. “Dad and me. It’s my fault. I just wanted…” She took a long, deep breath to steady her nerves, and then finally raised her head to look into her mother’s eyes. “After he found out about your affair, Dad came to Ponyville and-”

“That’s enough, Twilight.”

Twilight’s head turned so fast her neck jolted in pain. Shining Armor stood in the doorway, glaring at her, teeth clenched.

“Shiny?” asked Velvet, clearly even more confused and worried than before.

“It’s okay, Mom,” he said, hot anger filling his voice. “Twilight was done talking.”

“What?” Velvet’s gaze flicked between her two children; Shining Armor tense and furious, Twilight with her eyes still red from tears, although now her surprise had faded and Twilight could feel her own anger starting to boil up inside.

How DARE he? This was his own threat, and now, after all that righteousness of his, he was trying to stop her? “Go away Shining, I’ve made up my mind.”

“I’m not going to let you do this,” he said. “You’ve already done enough.”

Velvet blinked. “What are you talking about? What in Tartarus is going on?”

“Yeah Shining,” said Twilight, not even trying to keep the edge out of it. “What is going on?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he grunted. “Let’s go, Twilight.”

Before Twilight could even start to make a decision, Velvet’s hoof came to rest on her shoulder.

“No,” Velvet said. “My daughter came to me in tears, and you are not going to tell me that doesn’t matter.”

“Mom,” protested Shining, “you don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t understand. If Twilight has something to tell me then I’m going to listen.”

“I’m trying to protect you,” he said. “You don’t want to hear this. Twilight’s just trying to hurt you.”

“That’s not your choice to make. And don’t talk about your sister that way!”

The argument went on, and Twilight shrank into her chair, simultaneously the focus of the fight and being completely ignored.

“...going to have to trust me about this, Mom, you don’t want to-”

“Don’t tell me what I do or don’t want, and don’t tell me how to look after my…”

Twilight couldn’t bear to listen anymore. They were both shouting over each other anyway, their argument boiling over as their individual frustrations got the better of them. Shining’s anger at Night Light and Twilight, and Velvet’s anger at herself – that’s what this fight was really all about.

And yet as it went on, Shining’s resistance just dug Twilight into a bigger and bigger hole. Even if Twilight said nothing now, Velvet would just be on edge and filled with worry.

Unless… It was kind of horrifying how quickly such a fully formed lie came to Twilight’s mind. It had gotten too easy; she was so used to it now. All of this had ruined her.

She had a choice to make now. Lie, and appease Shining at the cost of keeping everything as bad as it had already been, or tell Velvet everything anyway, along with all the new problems it would bring. Neither were good options. The potential for a good option had been lost a long time ago.

As Velvet and Shining’s fight got steadily louder, Twilight took a deep breath, and then shouted loud enough to cut through their squabble.

“I told Dad he should leave you.”

The argument stopped dead. Velvet stared at her in shock, and Shining did much the same.

“What?” Velvet whispered.

“He came to me after you fought,” Twilight said, the lies dripping all too easily from her tongue, “and I said he shouldn’t give you another chance.”

“Oh.”

That single sound was one of the most defeated Twilight had ever heard. Any fight still in Velvet was gone now, as she sank back into her chair.

“I wanted to tell you,” Twilight continued, “because I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

The room was still. Twilight waited, and waited, but neither Velvet nor her brother did anything except wait with her, letting the atmosphere sit, thick as mud.

“Mom?” Twilight ventured.

“I think I want to be alone for a while,” Velvet replied, after a pause. Her voice was low and monotone. Empty.

“Mom, I didn’t want to hurt you, I just thought-”

“Please,” said Velvet, in barely a whisper. “Just go.”

Twilight bit her lip, then nodded and climbed to her hooves. She wanted to say something to reassure her mother, to apologise again, but she knew that would only hurt more than it would help. The damage was done. No, the lie was nowhere near as bad as the truth, but Velvet couldn’t know that. It would be no comfort to her.

And so Twilight slipped out of the room, followed closely by her brother, leaving Velvet alone once more. The door clicked shut behind them, and Shining Armor rounded on her immediately.

“What have you done?” he hissed. “Why would you say that?”

“Keep your voice down!” Twilight gave him a pointed look. “Someone could be eavesdropping.”

“It’s a good thing I was, you were about to do something really fucking stupid.”

“Can we talk somewhere else? Right now you’re the one being stupid.”

Shining scowled, glancing at the closed door beside them, and then up and down the hall. With a grunt he gripped Twilight’s shoulder and pulled her towards a door a short way down the corridor, far enough that Velvet wouldn’t hear them at least. He flung it open to reveal… a closet. Before Twilight could respond with snark, however, Shining pushed her into it and squeezed inside after her, shutting the door again and plunging the two of them into uncomfortably close darkness. Twilight was immediately struck with the last time she had hidden herself in a closet, and everything that had stemmed from it. With a shiver she brushed the thoughts aside.

“Couldn’t you have tried any other door?” she asked.

“No one’s going to find us in here,” said Shining, all too close to her. “So now you can tell me what in Tartarus you were thinking, about to tell Mom everything.”

“I was trying to make it right,” Twilight muttered. “You’re the one who wanted to tell her anyway, why did you stop me?”

“I was never going to tell her, Twilight. I’m not that heartless. I just needed something to get you and Dad to stop.”

Twilight rolled her eyes – a pointless gesture in the cramped dark, but it made her feel better. “How am I the heartless one? Don’t you think Mom deserves the truth?”

“No, Twilight, she doesn’t. No one deserves to hear what you were going to tell her. But good job, you managed to break her heart anyway.”

“You didn’t leave me any choice,” said Twilight. “I couldn’t stay quiet after everything we’d already talked about, and you trying to stop me meant it had to be something really bad.”

Shining grunted and slumped back against the closet wall. “Now it’s going to be even worse if she finds out the truth.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Are you serious?” asked Shining, incredulously. “Yours, Twilight. All of this is your fault. Don’t try and pin any of this on me, all I did was find you and Dad in the middle of… you know.”

“Fucking?”

“Celestia’s sake, Twilight, you could at least show a little bit of remorse.”

Twilight couldn’t help but feel a small pang of spiteful happiness at Shining’s discomfort. “Why should I? He made me happy. That’s all I wanted.”

“If you can’t see that he was just using you in some twisted revenge against Mom…”

“Is… Is that all you think it was?”

Shining hesitated. “Yes.”

Indignant tears began to sting Twilight’s eyes again. “You’re wrong.”

“I don’t think he did it on purpose, I think he convinced himself it was something more than that. But Twilight, none of this makes sense otherwise.”

“He loves me!”

“No father who loves their daughter would do what he did.”

“Stop it.”

“Do you think he would have thought about being with you, even for a second, if all this stuff with Mom hadn’t happened?”

“Stop it!”

“He was lonely, and he was heartbroken. And then you come along, looking like Mom and desperate for him and I think he just couldn’t stop himself.”

“Shut up!” Twilight cried, pounding futilely against Shining’s chest. “You don’t get it, he needs me! And I need him.”

“That isn’t love, Twilight.”

“You’re wrong.”

“It’s been a few weeks. That’s not a relationship. This is not love, at least not the way you think it is.”

“You don’t get to tell me what this is or isn’t.”

“I’m not telling you, I’m showing you. This isn’t healthy for either of you, even before the fact that he’s your father. He just misses Velvet, and you… I don’t know, I think you’re just new to this.”

“If he wanted Mom instead of me, why is he avoiding her? She’s been right here the whole time.”

“Because it’s not easy to talk to someone you love who hurt you like that.” Shining let out a long, defeated sigh. “Twilight, listen. I can’t pretend to understand how you feel, and I sure as Tartarus don’t know how to fix this. But, as much as I feel like I’m going to regret this, I think I know somepony who can help you. Who can help us.”

“Who?” asked Twilight, although she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

“My wife.”

“No,” Twilight said immediately.

“She’s the Princess of Love. This is exactly the kind of thing she can help with.”

“No,” she repeated. “Too many ponies know about this already.”

“You were about to tell Mom!”

“Yes, but not because I thought it would help. I just didn’t want to lie any more.” Twilight couldn’t stop the bitter laugh from rising up out of her. “So much for that.”

“Cadance can help.”

“She can’t. No one can.”

Shining’s hoof came to rest on her shoulder, making Twilight flinch at the unexpected contact. “She can. If anyone can, it’s her. Please, trust me.”

“Why should I? All you’ve done is try to break me and Dad apart. Why do you want to help now?”

“Because I love you, Twily. I don’t want to see you hurting any more. I never wanted that. I didn’t want that for anyone in this family.”

“Even Dad?”

Shining took a moment to answer. “Even Dad.”

“It’s not his fault.”

Another long pause. “Come on, let’s talk to Cadance.”

Twilight hesitated, then nodded. In the darkness, it was more to herself than anything. A way to steel her resolve for what was to come. She’d already mentally prepared herself for one confession today, and now she was gearing up to do it all over again.

Great.

“Okay,” she said, “but this is a bad idea.”

“I know,” said Shining. “But it’s all we’ve got.”

11. Mile End

Cadance rolled her eyes and grabbed some more popcorn. “Seriously? You haven’t got your eye on any colts?”

Twilight shook her head. She wasn’t quite sure when the conversation had gotten onto boys, but the topic had always made her more than a little uncomfortable.

Cadance smiled warmly and shifted closer, pulling her into a sideways hug. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just a bit surprised, I thought you’d have them lining up by now.”

“Not really,” Twilight said. She didn’t think she wanted that, either.

“Well, don’t worry about it,” replied Cadance. “There’s plenty of time to find the right one. And you’ll have first choice, too.”

“Huh?”

“You’re smart, you’re funny. Any colt would be lucky to go out with you.”

Twilight frowned, and pulled the cushion closer to her chest. “How will I know?”

“Know what?”

“If he’s the right one.”

Cadance laughed, but it was kind, not mocking. “When they’re the right one, you won’t have to ask me,” she said. “You’ll know.”

Twilight pondered this for a while, as Cadance munched on more popcorn and Shining Armor clattered around in the kitchen. Long gone were the days where they needed proper foalsitting, of course, but it was nice to have Cadance visit just as a friend. Even if sometimes it ended up in these awkward conversations she would have preferred to avoid.

“What about you?” Twilight asked. “Do you have a special somepony?”

Cadance grinned, glancing in the direction of the kitchen. “Not yet, but soon, I hope.”

Something flitted across Twilight’s mind – some long forgotten memory from back when she was a foal and everything had melded into a blur of youth and excitement. Pink and white, a flash of surprise

This isn’t what it looks like

and shock. She reached for it, but it danced away, slipping out of her grasp like water, and it was gone. Twilight frowned, then pushed the thought away. It couldn’t have been that important anyway.

The kitchen door swung open, and Shining emerged with a tray full and teetering with a mountain of snacks and sweets.

Cadance rolled her eyes as he stumbled across the room. “Shiny, your parents are going to be really mad if we eat their entire pantry.”

Shining gave her a quizzical look. “We? This stuff’s just for me, you can get your own.”

He grinned at Cadance’s withering glare before settling himself beside her and placing the platter between the three of them.

“Ugh, it is soooo nice to finally get out of the castle for a bit,” said Cadance, stretching back as her wings unfolded to their full span, her eyes closed in contentment. “I’m sick of being a Princess already, and I don’t even have to do anything yet.”

“What does a Princess of Love have to do?” Twilight asked. “Obviously Celestia has to raise the sun and the moon, I’ve been reading about it, but none of the books mention a Princess of Love.”

“Well, no, I won’t have to do that. Not while Auntie’s around, anyway. It’s mostly just boring bureaucracy stuff, but really my job will be to make sure ponies are safe and happy.”

“The Royal Guard already do that,” huffed Shining.

“Maybe, but they’re not exactly…”

“Not exactly what?” he demanded.

“Subtle. Sometimes things need a more gentle touch. A kind word in the right place can accomplish far more than an army ever could.”

“Did Princess Celestia tell you that?” Shining asked, thoroughly unconvinced.

Cadance giggled. “Verbatim. But she’s right.”

Shining grunted dismissively and dived back into the pile of treats. Twilight, meanwhile, sat and considered Cadance’s words. Her concern did not go unnoticed.

“Are you okay, Twilight?” asked Cadance.

“I just don’t know if that’s right. I wouldn’t ever want to call Celestia wrong or anything-”

Her brother rolled his eyes.

“-but I’ve read a lot of the history books in the Royal Library since I’ve been studying there, and there have been so many bad things that happened even while Celestia’s been Princess. Rebellions and wars and all sorts of things that talking didn’t stop.”

“Of course,” said Cadance, “but that’s just because no one’s writing about the things that didn’t happen. You can’t help someone by force, even as a last resort. It would only make things worse.”

“So how do you help them?”

“With kindness,” Cadance answered. “And love.”

***

Cadance had stopped smiling a long time ago.

Twilight had watched as the Princess’ expression morphed from confusion to concern to abject horror, as Twilight had recounted everything that had happened over the past couple of weeks. Now she sat there blankly, her wide eyes flitting between Twilight and Shining, as if he would somehow refute Twilight’s story and end this madness.

Almost as soon as she had started telling Cadance everything, Twilight was filled with oppressive, chest-tightening dread. They were sat in the bedroom Cadance and Shining had claimed for the holiday, a single candelabra in the corner their only source of light, and the dim glow did nothing to calm her mood. This was a mistake. A huge one. Cadance wasn’t just another pony being dragged into this sordid maelstrom – she was a Princess. If she reacted badly (which was far more likely than not, Twilight wasn’t naive enough to think otherwise), she could do far worse than Shining or anyone else could.

Banishment? Exile? Or she might tell Princess Celestia, who could then exile Twilight herself. Certainly Twilight would be relinquished as her student. She didn’t think she could bear to see the disappointment Celestia would have for her if that happened. Or the disgust. She’d lose her home in Ponyville, and if word spread? She’d lose all of her friends, a fate even worse than losing Celestia’s tutelage. Surely they’d never stick by her after all she’d done, and she wouldn’t ask that of them.

She might even lose Spike.

And yet, Twilight pushed on, skipping the details for obvious reasons, but still explaining all she could of her and Night Light’s liaisons. She watched Shining squirm as he discovered the true extent of their time together, but the sight brought her neither joy nor guilt. She felt dull, empty, a puppet with someone else on her strings. A spectator, watching herself explain from a distance, the flickering light from the candles making all the room’s shadows jump and dance with every word. And when her story was over, as she finished talking about earlier that evening and the lies she’d told Velvet, the hurt she’d brought her mother, Twilight sat back and waited for her world to end.

She wasn’t expecting Cadance to get angry, that wasn’t like her. She was expecting icy cold, blunt explanations of everything she’d done wrong and how she would be punished for it. She was expecting Cadance to demand them to tell Velvet everything anyway. She was expecting admonishment, disdain, disappointment.

When Cadance rose wordlessly from the bed she’d been sitting on, Twilight feared the worst, and when she crossed the room and raised a hoof, Twilight couldn’t help but flinch. Instead of the strike she was prepared for, though, Cadance gently brushed her cheek, before leaning in and pressing her forehead to Twilight’s.

“Twilight,” she whispered. “I am so, so sorry.” And with that Cadance pulled her into a hug that Twilight knew was so undeserved and yet so welcome all the same. “If I’d had any idea how serious all this was when you came to me… I would never have been so flippant about it. I should have seen it.”

“Do you hate me?” Twilight murmured.

“No, don’t be silly,” Cadance replied. “Of course I don’t.”

“Wait a minute,” said Shining. “You knew about this?”

“No, I had no idea.” Cadance leaned in and wiped away the tears that were starting to spill from Twilight’s eyes. “If only I had, I might’ve…” She caught herself, taking a moment to align her thoughts. “Twilight told me about a relationship she was unsure about starting, that it was with a married stallion. I told her to wait for him, but I didn’t know it was… I couldn’t have known. I didn’t realise it was anything this serious.”

“You told her she should wait?” Shining spluttered. “Even if it was ‘just’ a married stallion, you told her that was okay?”

“Calm down,” Cadance warned, an edge to her voice Twilight had never heard before.

“How the fuck am I supposed to be calm? My sister is fucking my father behind my mother’s back, and now I find out that my wife gave her the fucking green light!”

“That is not what I said.” The edge hardened. “You need to-”

“I don’t need to do anything! You need to tell Twilight to stop this insanity and-”

“Shining, if you don’t shut up and listen right this second then you can leave.”

Cadance’s voice cut through the air, somehow filled with so much power even though she had barely raised it. For the first time, Cadance didn’t just seem like Twilight’s friendly foalsitter she’d known her entire life, she wasn’t just her sister-in-law. For the first time Twilight saw Cadance as the royalty she was, her tone truly intimidating and commanding.

And knowing that somepony like that didn’t hate Twilight for what she’d done gave her a small flicker of something deep in her chest that she hadn’t felt for a very long time, far too long. Hope.

Shining withered at Cadance’s words, suddenly seeming so very small as his anger deflated. He was still breathing heavily, glancing back and forth between his sister and his wife, but all his rage had been replaced with pure hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. “I just…”

“I know,” said Cadance, and now her words were as warm and understanding as ever, no trace of the dominating Princess she’d been only a moment ago. “It’s okay, Shiny. I know.”

He waited a moment longer, then dropped down onto his haunches and hung his head, waiting for Cadance to continue.

“What I told Twilight is that love is not simple, and you know that as well as I do. It’s messy, and it’s complicated. It leaves scars.” She hugged Twilight tighter. “And it doesn’t listen to what we want, or what we know is good for us.”

For a moment she just held Twilight, and oh it was so good to be hugged, to be held, to be close to another pony again. And though Twilight was far from free of the guilt that had gnawed at her soul for much too long, for a moment it didn’t matter. For a moment it felt like everything was going to be okay, even if it almost certainly wasn’t.

“Twilight,” Cadance said, switching her attention from Shining Armor. “I wish I could tell you that you could be with him, I really do.”

“But you can’t,” said Twilight, and the words were poison on her tongue.

“I can’t,” Cadance agreed. “And it’s not fair, and I’m sorry.”

Twilight expected Cadance to let her go then, to set her free and send her back to being alone, now with the disapproval of yet another pony weighing on her conscience. But she didn’t; if anything Cadance only hugged her tighter, letting Twilight’s fresh tears soak into her fur.

“Don’t be sorry,” Twilight mumbled into Cadance’s shoulder. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“It’s okay.”

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” she continued, her tears starting to flow thick and fast now. “But I didn’t want to hurt anymore either.”

“Do you love him?” Cadance asked, and there was no judgement in her voice.

“Yes,” said Twilight. Instant. Sure.

Cadance smiled, but even Twilight could see the sadness that filled it, the Princess’ eyes starting to shine brighter in the candlelight.

“And does Velvet love him?” she asked.

Twilight took longer to answer this time. “Yes,” she said, eventually. Quiet. Muted.

Cadance nodded in sympathetic understanding. “Then somepony was always going to hurt. No matter what you did.”

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Twilight said, her voice just the barest whisper as she clutched Cadance ever tighter. “And every time I tried I just made everything even worse.”

And now Cadance didn’t say anything, she just let Twilight hug her and hold her and waited for all the emotions she’d bottled up to flow out. All Twilight had been allowed was anger and frustration with Shining, pangs of want and rejection from her father. Everything else she’d only had to herself, and now she was finally able to let it go and it was so wonderful and so terrible all at the same time.

And when at last she’d let everything go, when all her tears had dried up and there was nothing else left, she pulled back and looked up at Cadance, who was still smiling that sad, understanding smile, whose own makeup was starting to blur at the edges of her eyes.

“What do I do?” Twilight asked, raw and empty.

Cadance leaned forward, so close, her voice quiet but filled with every reassurance. “We fix it,” she said.

“Are you sure we can?”

“No,” said Cadance. “But we’re going to try.”

***

Twilight stared at the enormous sundae in front of her, a sheer monument of ice cream and chocolate. “Cadance, this is really too much.”

A sharp elbow to her side snapped her attention to the small dragon beside her, glaring up at Twilight.

“Don’t ruin this for me!” Spike hissed.

She rolled her eyes as Cadance giggled.

“You should have asked for one too, Spike,” the Princess said. “I can get you one if you’d like.”

“It’s fine,” Twilight quickly interjected, earning her the saddest look of disappointment from Spike she’d ever seen. At least until she slid her own sundae over to him. “He can have mine, I’m not that hungry.”

Spike didn’t even spare a moment before lunging at the ice cream and stuffing his face.

“You’ll regret that in a minute,” Twilight warned.

“Don’t care,” Spike mumbled between mouthfuls. “Too good.”

Cadance laughed, delving heartily into her own dessert. “This was meant to be your treat for saving me, Twilight.”

Flashes of that day rose in Twilight’s mind, flying bolts of magic, seething hordes of changelings, Chrysalis’ green, mocking eyes above a horrific snarl. The clean up was still well underway, and there was a large gouge in one of the ice cream store’s pillars that Twilight’s gaze was continually drawn to. She was pretty sure it had been caused by a wayward spell of her own, although in all the chaos it was impossible to be sure.

“Oh, I don’t mean to be ungrateful,” said Twilight. “I just-”

“It’s fine, I understand,” said Cadance, waving away her concerns with a hoof before devouring another large mouthful. “I’m a married mare now, though; I can stop worrying about my figure. Your brother’s locked in, it’s too late for him to back out.” She grinned wickedly, and Twilight couldn’t help but laugh as well.

This was good.

It was amazing how quickly Chrysalis' uprising had become a memory. How quickly ponies were moving on. The streets were bustling, the mess was being cleaned, and Twilight and Cadance could sit here with sundaes as if just a week ago they hadn’t been trapped in a cave with almost no hope of escape.

Well, Spike and Cadance could, anyway, and the little dragon had already almost finished his. For someone so small, it always amazed Twilight how much he could eat.

But her eyes kept being drawn to that gouge, and every time they did a different but equally unpleasant memory unravelled before her. A different flash of teeth, of green eyes, of two terrified mares in the fragmented reflection of a crystal.

“Twilight?”

Twilight snapped out of her reverie at Cadance’s concerned tone. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

There was a quiet clink as Cadance placed down her spoon. “I was asking if you were okay, but I think you’ve already answered the question.”

Twilight nodded slowly. “I just keep thinking about what would have happened if we didn’t stop her.”

The Princess reached out and took Twilight’s hoof in hers. “But we did,” she said.

“And maybe next time we won’t. And maybe next time it will be worse than Chrysalis.”

“Worse than Chrysalis? Twilight, I have to go home to a husband who is so horrified at what happened that I don’t know if he’ll ever truly get over it. I don’t know if he’ll ever let me forgive him. I have to lie in a bed that creature slept in, wearing my body as hers. Nothing is going to be worse than that. And you know what?”

“What?”

Cadance’s solemn expression morphed into a wide smile, the kind she was so good at, the kind that radiated sunshine and said that everything was okay and made you believe it without hesitation. “We beat her,” she said. “And if we did that, we can face whatever comes next.”

“There’s always going to be something else, though,” countered Twilight. “There always is.”

“Maybe,” said Cadance. “But that seems like a pretty poor reason to give up, don’t you think?”

“I wasn’t giving up.” Twilight paused a moment and glanced over at Spike. He’d finished the ice cream now, and was instead lying on his back, a dopey wide grin on his face as he stared happily up at the sky at nothing in particular. She dropped her voice and leaned closer to Cadance. “I’m just scared.”

Cadance nodded. “Me too. I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”

This was news to Twilight. Cadance had seemed so sure of herself, so relaxed, so calm. Even during the siege, during their escape, and even as she faced down Chrysalis beside Shining Armor, she’d seemed so in control, so fearless. Twilight had thought she wasn’t afraid of anything.

Sensing her surprise, Cadance laughed. “It’s not a bad thing, Twilight. Everyone gets scared sometimes, and often about things far less serious than saving the whole of Equestria. But it’s a good thing, I promise.”

“It doesn’t feel like a good thing.”

“You’re only scared because you have something you want to protect. But those same things are what give you strength, what push you to greater and better things. The only reason I was able to stand up to Chrysalis was because I was so scared of losing Shiny. Of losing everything.”

“But wouldn’t it be better not to be afraid?”

Cadance shook her head. “If you’re not scared, it’s because you’ve got nothing else left to lose. And that’s very sad, don’t you think?”

Twilight didn’t answer right away, still staring at that chip in the pillar as Spike groaned beside them.

“Brain freeze…” he mumbled.

“I did warn you,” said Twilight, smiling despite herself.

“You shoulda warned me better.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Cadance. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “But things would be easier if I wasn’t afraid.”

“They would be,” Cadance agreed. “But scary things are often the ones that are most important.”

***

Right now, Twilight was scared. The three of them still sat in that room, still covered in dim, flickering candlelight, and Twilight looked at the two ponies across from her and she was scared.

The hug had ended now, leaving Twilight so very alone once again. Cadance sat beside Shining now, her face wreathed in the shadows save for tiny pinpricks of light sparkling in reflections in her eyes.

“We need a plan,” the Princess said.

“Don’t ask Twilight,” muttered Shining. “Her plans so far got us into this mess.”

“Shiny…” Cadance’s tone was warning again, but this time Shining Armor didn’t back down.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m done with playing nice. There’s an easy answer, and all Twilight has to do is nothing at all. That’s why I convinced her to talk to you, so she can hear it from someone else and maybe she’ll listen.”

“You don’t believe that,” said Cadance. “You know this isn’t so simple.”

“It is. I’m fed up of everyone acting like this is some impossible challenge. Twilight just needs to understand that and leave it alone.”

“I’m right here…” Twilight said, quietly. Neither of them even turned in her direction.

“Was it that simple to leave Chrysalis behind?” snapped Cadance. “Did I tell you just get over it?”

“That’s different and you know it,” Shining snarled. “And don’t say her name.”

“Love is not cut and dry. Love is delicate. You can’t just ignore it and wait for it to fix itself. You have to be patient, and understanding. You have to give ponies time.”

“What good is that going to do here? What the hell kinda plan are you possibly going to come up with? Twilight just needs to stay out of Dad’s life. And I’ll go talk to him and make sure he stays out of hers.”

“Night Light needs just as much help as Twilight does, I thought you of all ponies would-”

“No, he doesn’t deserve help. He doesn’t deserve to even be our father any more, not after what he’s done.”

There was a long silence after that, the candles seeming to flicker faster in the pause. Shining had stood up at some point during his tirade, and was staring down furiously at the two mares before him, but with almost a hint of surprise, as if he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten there.

“What has he done?” Cadance asked, gently.

“Wha-?” Shining didn’t even seem to know how to process the question. “You have to ask!?”

“I want you to say it.”

“He’s torn this family apart,” Shining spat. His anger was just as strong as before, but not explosive like it was at first. Now it seethed like bile, every word tainted, filled with pure disgust. “He cheated on his wife with his own daughter, out of fucking spite.”

Cadance opened her mouth to speak, but she was quickly cut off.

“I looked up to him,” said Shining, and now that anger was slowly morphing into cold hatred. “I joined the guard, not just for you, but because I wanted to make him proud. I thought he was a great pony. When Velvet told me she cheated on him, I knew he would forgive her. Because that’s what you do, isn’t it? That’s what love is about. You forgive mistakes, and you forgive regrets, and you don’t blame the ones you love.” He closed his eyes, a thick edge to his voice. “You told me that. You promised.”

“I did,” Cadance said.

“But he didn’t,” Shining replied. “He threw it all away for petty revenge, happy to fuck anyone who’d be there for him. And when that turned out to be his daughter, he thought that was just fucking perfect. How better to get one over on Velvet than that? He’s a monster, and he doesn’t deserve the slightest bit of sympathy from you, or anyone else.”

Twilight had had enough. She’d borne Shining’s anger ever since he’d discovered the two of them. He’d called Night Light everything he could think of, he’d told her he should hate her, and through it all, Twilight had let him. She’d been bitter, and she’d let him know it, but she’d always let him have the last word, the final insult. She’d let him vent and shout and argue because she’d thought it was his way of coping, and because deep down she felt like she deserved it. But all he’d done was gotten angrier.

And she was sick of it.

“What about me?” she asked, climbing up onto her hooves as well, leaving Cadance alone on the floor, the shadows doing nothing to hide her concern at the siblings' vitriol. “Am I a monster, too?”

“Of course not. You’re a victim.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, all her own anger and frustrations boiling to the surface again now. “You think that because it makes it easier, but I’m not. Any more than Mom is.”

“You’ve seen how Velvet is. Mom regrets what she did more than anything, and-”

“And I don’t,” Twilight said sharply, and oh it felt good to say, to see the first flashes of doubt flickering across Shining’s face. “I don’t regret what I did at all.”

“You’re just saying that to try and make a point,” Shining said, his anger again changing, still there but different, now filled with doubts and uncertainty and deep frustration at her continued denial.

“No, I’m not,” Twilight replied, and she was smiling even though every word stung like a whip. Even though her eyes were still bleary and her heart still hurt with every beat, she smiled at each and every memory she and her father had shared as they rolled through her mind and Shining gritted his teeth in fury. “I know I should,” she said, “but I don’t regret a single thing that happened.” She paused a moment. “Actually, I do regret one thing.” Twilight’s eyes narrowed as she stared Shining’s resistance down. “I regret that we didn’t lock the door.”

“He’s got you so twisted up,” Shining said, laughing with more bitterness than Twilight had ever heard from him. “This isn’t like you, Twilight. You’re better than this. You’re smarter than this.”

“And what about you? You’re so terrified Cadance doesn’t forgive you that you can’t even see that what Mom did was wrong. That maybe she doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”

“But you do?”

Twilight was smiling again, that strange smile that she wasn’t sure where it came from. “I don’t. None of us do.”

And for once Shining had nothing to say. Whatever he thought her response would be, it wasn’t that, and he had no answer for her. Instead he just stood there, mouth hanging dumbly open, moving ever so slightly as he tried to form words he couldn’t think of.

Twilight didn’t relent. “You keep trying to make Mom’s affair the same as the changeling queen hypnotising you, but it’s not, and you need to see that. I’m sorry about everything that happened to you, Shining, but it’s not the same. You didn’t choose Chrysalis, but Mom and I chose our mistakes. Dad did too. We don’t deserve forgiveness.”

The silence deafened. Twilight watched with mixed feelings as a whole spectrum of emotions danced across her brother’s face. She could tell how badly he wanted to prove her wrong, but finally the parallels he had drawn were starting to skew, finally he was starting to see Velvet in Twilight’s place rather than his own.

“You’re wrong.”

That wasn’t her brother. Twilight frowned at Cadance’s sudden interruption. Was she taking Shining Armor’s side? After everything the Princess had said? After everything she’d done?

After being the one pony that Twilight thought actually wanted to help?

But there was no trace of malice in her expression, not even the slightest shred of distaste. Or – and it would have been even worse – pity. Instead there was only that undeserved compassion she’d given Twilight all the while.

“Do you really think that?” Cadance asked. “Do you really think that Velvet shouldn’t be forgiven?”

Twilight hesitated.

“What about Night Light?”

“It’s not his fault,” Twilight said. “I was the one who-”

“Because I don’t think he deserves the callousness you’re suggesting,” said Cadance. “And I don’t think Velvet does either.”

“That wasn’t… I was just trying to-”

“And no matter how much you want us to hate you, I think you deserve better, too.”

This time it was Twilight’s turn to stand there in dumb silence. Cadance, the only one still sitting, and yet she dominated the room in a way that neither of the siblings had. Her gentle words washed over them and left Twilight even more lost than before. She had thought Cadance understood, but now she wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t so sure of anything.

“Why would I want you to hate me?” she asked.

“Because it’s easier,” Cadance answered. “Because that’s the only way you know how to explain yourself and the things you’ve done. You think you’re just a bad pony and everyone else should hate you for it, because then everything makes sense. Then you can protect Night Light because it’s not his fault. It’s not even your fault, not really. If you’re not a good pony then that’s just the way you are, and you can’t be blamed for that any more than rain could be blamed for being wet. It would simply be your nature.”

Twilight stared, unblinking. The candles flickered. The shadows danced.

“But you’re just doing the same as Shining,” Cadance continued. “You’re making this something it isn’t so you can understand it. So you can bear it. And when I look at you I don’t see the helpless victim that Shining thinks you are, but I don’t see the monster that you think you are, either.” Cadance stood now, too, seeming so tall in the room that all at once felt far too cramped for the three of them, and she stepped out of the shadow and into the candlelight that bathed all her features in a soft orange glow, and her smile was pure and real. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”

Twilight’s throat was dry and she had no words left, not for this. She shook her head slowly, silently.

“I just see you. Just Twilight. And you’re scared, and you’re sad, but it’s still you. Not a victim, not a monster. Just Twilight Sparkle, the same as you’ve ever been.”

“That’s not true,” Twilight murmured. “I changed.”

Cadance shook her head. “No, you didn’t. You fell in love and you made a mistake, but the Twilight I know won’t let that define her. She’s so much more than one regret, no matter how big it is.”

Cadance leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Twilight’s forehead, and it was like something broke inside her. Like Twilight had been locked away, screaming behind thick glass she could only stare out at the world through, and now that glass had shattered beneath Cadance’s gentleness and everything was all at once so clear, so real. Some haze of crushing doubt and self-disgust had gone, faded to nothing. She was Twilight Sparkle, Element of Magic. She had Princess Cadance on her side. She could take on the world and win, and this was nothing compared to the things she’d already faced and beaten before, no matter how personal, no matter much this one broke her heart. She still hadn’t the slightest idea how to stop her family collapsing around her, but for the first time, she was sure she could. They could. Somehow, they could.

Cadance stepped back and smiled warmly. “There she is.” She turned to her husband. “I hope you’ve gotten that out of your system, too.”

Shining nodded sheepishly. There wasn’t much else he could have done. Twilight could still see the pain clear on his features, but she didn’t regret her words, anything she’d said. It was all worth it to feel like this again, to feel in charge of her own destiny for the first time in all too long. Not that she had any certainty that this would end well, but for the first time it felt like it was worth trying.

“I’m sorry,” Shining muttered.

“Don’t be, that was important. For both of you.” Cadance gave his cheek a loving caress before turning her attention back to the room in general. “As I was saying, we need a plan.”

Shining opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, biting back the words that were trying so desperately to spill out.

“It’s fine, you’re right,” said Cadance. “We don’t even know what we’re planning for yet.”

As Shining agreed, Twilight couldn’t help but wonder how long it took couples to form that strange, almost psychic connection. Cadance always seemed so sure of what Shining was about to say, and as far as Twilight could tell she was almost always right.

But now Cadance was looking firmly at Twilight, and that brief moment of levity was gone and the Princess had never seemed more serious in all the times Twilight had seen her.

“Twilight, I’m going to ask you something very important. Don’t just tell me the first thing that comes to your mind, I want you to think about it. I want you to be sure.”

Twilight swallowed nervously. She was doing that voice again, the Princess one, the same one that made Twilight’s ears pin back and tuck her tail low whenever she heard Celestia use it. Steeling herself, she nodded.

But Cadance didn’t ask right away. She took a moment, reading Twilight’s features carefully for what felt like an age. Finally, she seemed satisfied, and asked her question.

“What is it that you want?”

***

Sunlight broached through the gap in the curtains, warming the bed sheets as Twilight lay in that wonderful, transitory place between sleep and waking, the place where everything was warm and fuzzy and unimportant, and she could nestle back in her father’s hooves around her and smile as he gave a half-asleep grunt at her movement. His embrace tightened, pulling her in closer and letting out a tired but contented sigh.

A long time ago – a lifetime, it seemed – Pinkie Pie had informed her during a sleepover that this was something called spooning. She’d assured Twilight that it felt ‘super awesome’, and had prefaced that with so many ‘really’s that Twilight had lost count. Twilight’s only experience with stallions had come from far less loving places, places with hoofcuffs and blindfolds, and so she’d been more than a little dubious of Pinkie’s claim. Now, though, snuggled against her father’s chest in warm happiness, memories from the pleasant evening before drifting through her dozing mind, the appeal was clear.

This was perfect. It was everything Twilight could have imagined, could have dreamed of, and more. No longer was her heart tearing itself to pieces at the mere sight of her father, no longer did she have to hide her desires and keep them locked away as they ate their way through her. Now she and her father could share everything, could be everything she had hoped they could be. They had to be careful, of course, had to keep it secret, but Twilight could do that.

As long as she had Night Light for moments like this, she could do anything. Sacrifice anything. It had seemed impossible even just a few days ago, but here they were. Twilight had told him how she felt, and instead of pushing her away as she’d feared, he’d pulled her closer. He’d seen how much she was hurting and had scooped her up in his hooves and told her he wanted her too, and now nothing could separate them.

There were still some doubts, of course. Worries, hesitations. What would they do if someone else found out, for example? That one weighed heavily on Twilight, and she wondered if Night Light was as terrified of the possibility as she was. He must have been, and yet still he was here, and the mere thought that he wanted her enough to push that aside sent another warm rush of happiness through her, tingling right to the tips of her hooves.

But they would still need to take every precaution. Her family would never understand how she felt, how she needed Night Light, how he needed her. They would never understand how much she yearned to be with him like this forever, for always. If they could just lie here wrapped up in each other’s hooves for eternity, Twilight would have no objections.

But of course they couldn’t.

Her father shifted uncomfortably behind her, disentangling himself from the embrace as he pulled himself upright.

“We should get up, kiddo,” he said. “We wouldn’t want someone to come looking for us.”

Twilight made a small, disappointed noise, but smiled when she heard Night Light laugh.

“I know, I know,” he said. “I want to stay here too.”

“Why don’t we?” she murmured into the pillow. “Just for a little while.”

There was a quiet moment from behind her, and then felt the soft brush of Night Light’s lips against her neck as he kissed her. “Maybe just a little while,” he agreed, nuzzling against her fur. Even just his gentle touch was enough to send a shiver of sparks across her skin. Even the gentlest of his kisses were red hot fire that burned in the best of ways, leaving her flushed and yearning. She rolled over to face him, and now their kiss was shared, and Twilight gave everything she had to it, losing herself – losing everything – in his embrace. She really could stay here forever, wrapped up in his warmth, his scent, his love, feeling his hardening length pressing against her thigh, feeling his hips buck ever so gently as his shaft brushed against her fur.

Their kiss grew more earnest, more needy, more desperate, filled with pants and gasps for snatches of breath before each would dive back into the other. When finally they broke apart for a moment it was out of necessity, both of them lying there, breathing so heavily. And in those deep, amber eyes across from her, Twilight searched. She searched for even the slightest of hesitations, any doubts or fears or reservations about this, about them. She had to know for sure. She had to see.

But she found nothing. There was only the most genuine love there, and no matter how hard Twilight looked she couldn’t find even a hint of unease. There was something else, though. A tinge of something much more feral and primal; the same thing that had driven them together in the first place.

Lust.

Twilight smiled as they kissed again, this time more gently, still filled with all the affection from before but far less frantic. This time they simply enjoyed themselves, enjoyed the other’s closeness and comfort. Night Light’s hooves slid across her fur, roaming across the contours of her body, and she let out a squeak of surprise as one reached her rump and tightened its grip, pulling her tightly to him and pinning his length against her stomach.

Well, if he wanted it that badly…

And Twilight wanted it too, oh fuck how she wanted it, she couldn’t wait any longer. Now that she had him all to herself there was no need to wait, no need for longing and holding back, staring out through a gap in a closet door as the pony she wanted more than anything lay with someone else. And so she broke the kiss, and quickly dismissed Night Light’s disapproving grunt by moving to his neck, kissing and nipping gently as she went. And then lower, over his chest, leaving a trail of her kisses all the way down until his stallionhood was pressing against her cheek and it was so warm and so ready and his musk filled her head until there was nothing else left.

Her love burned so hot it almost hurt, her heart threatening to burst from the way he looked down at her then. She’d been so scared just a couple of evenings ago, telling him how she felt, so terrified he would cast her away, that he would think so much less of her. That would have been the worst part.

But now she was between his legs and he wanted her as bad as she did him, and nothing made her happier than the sharp hiss of breath between his teeth as she took him into her mouth. She grinned around him as he gripped the bedsheets and groaned out loud.

“Oh fuck.”

***

The memory dwindled. Night Light was gone. She was back in the room of flickering shadows and Cadance was still waiting for the answer that Twilight now had – had known all along, deep down.

And it hurt. It hurt so much, knowing after everything that her happiness was out of reach once again. She’d remembered just how good it had felt, not just the sex but every part of it, every part of him. His touch, his smile, his embrace, his love. That was what Twilight wanted. She wanted him, she wanted everything he could give her. She wanted Night Light almost more than anything she’d ever wanted.

Almost, but not quite. Because there was another side to love, wasn’t there? Another thing that was far more important than her own happiness, her own satisfaction. Something she treasured and wanted to protect far more than those perfect moments she’d shared with her father. Something she’d already ruined and shattered, and it was all her fault, and those moments hurt even more than the ache in her chest when she imagined letting Night Light go forever.

Those moments in the hallways where he had walked past her without even glancing in her direction. The way Night Light’s face had fallen when she’d given him Shining’s ultimatum. The heartbreak that had been all too clear as she’d pushed him away by the lakeside. And the wrenching pain in his voice when he’d called after her as she stumbled back to the house, his anguish ringing in her ears with every step.

Twilight looked up at Cadance and gave the only answer she could. “I just want him to be happy.”

Cadance smiled in a way that suggested she’d always known that would be Twilight’s response, that she’d just been waiting for her to say it. “That’s a good answer,” she said. “We can work with that.”