Rainbow Dash was living a dream that she hadn’t even imagined a few years ago.

“Keep flapping, Twilight, you’re doing great!”

Rarity crashing (and nearly crashing in) the Best Young Fliers Competition had been weird, sure, but it had opened Dash up to more than just another Rainboom. Until she’d seen Rarity’s wings, she’d never imagined sharing the sky with all of her new friends.

Twilight wasn’t as enthusiastic. Not yet, anyway, but she hadn't even been in the air for a week yet.

“I feel like a brick with wings,” she grumbled. “I barely pulled out of that last stall!”

“Yeah, but you did!” Dash zipped to her side, nudging her a few times to correct her posture so her weight was more evenly distributed. “That’s great work for somepony with only three days of flight time under her saddle.”

Twilight thought about that for a few moments and another nudge against her withers. “Do you remember how your parents came backstage after we did that Hearth’s Warming play in Canterlot?”

Dash sighed at the memory. “Even though they weren’t supposed to? Yeah. Why?”

“I can’t help but feel like excessive praise may run in the—”

That got her a sharp jab in the ribs. Dash used the resulting lost twenty hooves of altitude to loom over her flight student. “For both our sakes, I’m going to cut you off before you say I’m turning into my mom.”

Twilight cleared her throat and offered a nervous smile. “Fair enough.”

Dash adjusted the same baseball cap she’d broken out to get the weather team up to snuff for tornado duty. “Now, if you’d rather I act like a hardcase—”

The smile fell away to show the panic behind it. “I didn’t say—”

“Climb and dive!” Dash jabbed a hoof at the sky, then pivoted down to the pond beneath them. “I want you skimming that water close enough to make waves! Go, go, go!” She blew into her whistle before Twilight could say anything else. And to the egghead’s credit, she went.

Only when Twilight rose past Dash did she finally figure out one detail that had been bugging her practically since Twilight’s coronation. She’d thought it would be something extra, some Twilit complication accidentally slipped into the wingbeats or something, but it was actually something missing. The other mare had practically brushed Dash’s muzzle with her primaries, yet she’d barely made a sound while doing it. Even Fluttershy couldn’t manage that.

If only Twilight liked pranks. Together, the two of them could—

“AHHHHH!”

The scream snapped Dash out of her daydream just in time to see Twilight plummet way too close to the pond to ever manage a skim. She did start pulling up, but that just led to a belly flop they could probably hear from town hall.

After a wince, Dash drifted down to the water’s surface. Twilight surfaced, spat out a mouthful of pond water, and sighed. “Don’t tell me. I started pulling up too late.”

Dash just nodded. “That’s why we’re doing this over the lake.” She made for the shore. “Come on, shake it off and we’ll give it another try.”

Twilight pony-paddled easily enough. But when she got on-shore, Dash was treated to another unusual sensation. Twilight’s wings look just as soaked as her coat. More so after she shook herself dry.

“Uh, did you try to flap underwater or something?”

“Given how quickly these things soaked it up? I just tried to keep them folded to minimize drag.”

“Soaked it…” Dash shook her head at that nonsense. “Feathers don’t soak up water.”

Twilight gave that a flat look and spread her limp, dripping wings. “Want to try telling them that?”

And from one of the bushes growing around the pond came the faint but unmistakable sound of a camera shutter.

Dear Princess Celestia,

I know we have had our differences of opinion in the past, particularly regarding the classification and freedom of information. I maintain that greater historical literacy can only help us, especially when history not only repeats but comes back with a vengeance and has to be beaten back with the Elements of Harmony. But that is not why I write to you today.

After an incident which I choose to leave private, I have come to a better understanding of your position on the matter regarding certain areas. It has also highlighted a gap in my own knowledge of the powers and duties that have come with my ascension. As such, purely as a hypothetical exercise, I wish to know whether I have the ability to classify information and how I might go about doing so.

With gratitude,
Princess Twilight Sparkle

Dearest Twilight,

Rainbow Dash has already sent me photos from just after you pulled yourself out of the pond. Rest assured that while this is an uncommon affliction among pegasi, you are far from the only pony in Equestria who suffers from it. Indeed, I can recommend an excellent feather wax used by certain princesses of the night who wish to remain nameless.

As for classifying information, I must admit that the Senate and I are still working out the finer details of your powers and responsibilities, all of us agreeing that such matters are relatively low-priority at the moment. Enjoy these carefree days, my faithful peer, for they will not last forever.

Moreover, while I am glad to hear you appreciate how some knowledge is too dangerous to fall into unready hooves, I must caution you about declaring personal embarrassments matters of national security. It is all too tempting to wipe your mistakes from the historical record, but it creates a vicious cycle. That artificially perfect track record makes every future misstep all the more notable to your subjects, leaving you trapped between maintaining it forever or letting the facade crumble in a way far worse than letting the mishaps fade into obscurity. I may or may not be speaking from experience there; I fear I am not at liberty to confirm or deny it at this time.

Your friend and teacher,
Celestia

Spike looked up from the scroll, eyeridges high. “Huh. What do you think the princess covered up over the years?”

Twilight answered him with a glare.

After a few uncomfortable seconds, he said, “What?”

“Right now I’m wondering something else.”

“Oh?” For completely unrelated reasons, Spike checked the bedroom for handy exits. Unfortunately, Twilight had positioned herself between him and the staircase to the library. “What is it?”

She narrowed her eyes. “How exactly did Rainbow send the princess those photos so quickly?”

Spike gulped and glanced at the scroll again. “I am also not at liberty to confirm or deny that at this time.”

After far too long, Twilight nodded. “I see.” She turned and started walking downstairs. Just as Spike started to relax, she called, “Then I’m not at liberty to get more topaz this week.”

He followed after her. “Wait! I have the negatives!”

Author's Note

Fun fact: The same adaptations that make owl feathers nearly silent also remove the waterproofing most birds' feathers have. After seeing an especially soggy owl, I couldn't help but think of an idea I had a while back about different pegasi (and alicorns) having the wings of different birds. And in that system, Twilight got owl wings, per her pet.

The rest practically wrote itself.