A Swan Amongst The Ducklings

“Ma petite?” Fleur called into the steam-filled bathroom as she opened the door.

“I’m still showering, Dame.” Luna called back.

“I know, mon cygne. I had thought to... assist you, if you would like.” Fleur winced at how horribly plaintive she sounded. “That is... I wish to join you. Do you wish this too?”

Fleur approached slowly, and as the steam parted she saw Luna’s lithe and tall form silhouetted in the glass door of the shower stall. She stood rapt at the sight.

Luna opened the door just a little, her flowing mane framing her face, a cloud of steam billowing out around her. “As you desire, Dame.”

Nodding quickly, Fleur very nearly galloped into the shower to join Luna. It was a largish thing, easily bigger than a normal sized bathroom in itself. Inside there was a long shelf of various shampoos, soaps, and conditioners; the bulk of which were Fleur’s but a respectable amount of which belonged to Fancy. Outside there was a row of monogrammed towels, a large mirror over a counter lined with hair care products and grooming tools, and a rack lined with fluffy white robes, two monogrammed and several left blank for guests.

Luna stood in the glass enclosure under one of the four shower heads, allowing the water to run over her but making no move to do much in the way of actual cleaning. It was only then that Fleur noticed that not all of the moisture on Luna’s face was coming from the showerhead.

“Ma Petite?” Fleur asked quietly.

Luna sat down on the shower floor with a small splash.

Fleur rushed to her, her heart racing. Something was wrong with her little princess. Had Fancy been too rough with her? It had not seemed so at the time... but in the heat of passion... No, her Fancy had been gentle, only responding to Luna’s wishes. But even still, Luna had mentioned she’d never had the attentions of a male before, and Fancy was well above average in size... He could well have hurt her with no will to do so. “Princesse? Are you well?”

Luna shook her head, burying her muzzle in Fleur’s chest pelt as she settled down next to Luna to look her over.

“Luna, please,” Fleur begged. “Tell me how I can help.”

“I... I am sorry, Dame,” Luna whispered. “Please... give me a moment. Just... just a moment.”

Not knowing what else to do, Fleur gathered Luna close to herself, simply holding her. How long she could not say. Overhead, the shower rained down on them with a steady heat, but Luna seemed to shudder in her arms, as if she were cold. Fleur murmured endearments quietly, stroking Luna’s mane and willing her friend to be well, if such a thing could be done by will alone.

In time, Luna raised her head, and though her eyes were red-tinged, they were dry. “Forgive me,” she said, reaching up to lay a gentle kiss on Fleur’s cheek.

“Ma petite, please,” Fleur asked once again. “Do you ache? I can call for ice and some pills to dull pain.”

Luna shook her head, saying nothing.

“I swear, if Fancy has hurt you he will spend the next week on the couch—”

“He did not, Fleur. Fancy was most considerate. He was both gentle and strong, and made me feel treasured and worshipped in a way I have rarely felt.” Luna reached up to rub at her eyes, letting out a deep exhalation. “And you were so attentive afterwards... You were both so very good to me.”

“Then what is wrong, ma chère?” Fleur said, brushing a strand of long dark mane away from Luna’s pretty eyes.

“I... I feel as if I have committed a great wrong,” Luna admitted after a moment.

Fleur would have laughed had Luna not sounded so very earnest. “For what reason?”

“For what reason would I not think thus?” Luna replied with a bitter laugh. “I practically forced you into your own bedroom, pursuing you to sate my own needs, and in doing so I frightened you to the point where your dear husband offered himself up in your stead. I am a selfish mare, and I shame myself with such behavior.”

After staring at Luna, completely dumbfounded, Fleur did laugh finally, unable to stop it from coming. “Ma petite... you cannot force the willing. I only wish I had not been struck with nerves. I was so very jealous of my Fancy as he took you. But I was grateful to him as well, for he saw your need and accommodated you.”

“Only after I threw myself at him...” Luna muttered darkly.

“Do not think him immune to your charms. He simply did not wish to intrude on our play, ma chère,” Fleur replied. She sat back, taking Luna’s shoulders in her hooves. “He knew how much I desired you, and how very hurt I was when I chased you off. He... he knows me better than I know myself, at times.”

“Truly?” Luna asked, looking into Fleur’s eyes. “He simply... held himself back?”

“Fancy is very good about my toys,” Fleur said with a little chuckle. “He knows I will share.”

“So... it was not pity that inspired him? He was attracted to me?” Luna pressed.

Fleur tilted her head to one side, eyeing Luna as if seeing her for the first time. “Ma petite... how could he not be?”

Luna looked away from Fleur’s gaze, shaking her head. “Do not mock me, Dame. I look at you and I wonder how he could possibly look at another mare.”

“Ma chère, you speak such lovely words.” Fleur said with a little titter. “But you yourself are lovelier still. How is it that you believe otherwise?”

“I’m afraid narcissism requires a degree of self-delusion I am no longer capable of,” Luna replied. “I am, at best, a casual friend of myself, and sometimes not even that.”

“Then you will have to trust me, ma petite,” Fleur said firmly. “You are gorgeous.”

Luna smiled just a little, and it greatly relieved Fleur to see it. “I would expect you to think thusly, Dame, but I feel wretched right now.”

“I understand, but not why, Princesse. What can I do to make you feel better?”

“Very little, I’m afraid.” Luna said, letting out a sigh. “I had thought myself capable of...” she paused, gesturing futilely around the bathroom. “This. Whatever one calls it when they willfully participate in helping a couple commit adultery.”

Fleur laughed heartily. “I do not call it that at all. Fancy and I simply hold our hearts for one another. That word you speak is what you use when couples betray each other. We have only love.”

“Yes... as you say,” Luna replied. “I... I have only ever known the love of one pony to another. Or seen the love of a herd for all the members thereof. I do not feel as though I have been invited to such... and yet I do not feel unwelcome. ‘Tis most confusing.”

“There are many types of love,” Fleur replied. “What Fancy and I have is not threatened by simply sharing pleasure with other ponies.”

“Yet that is not what you said!” Luna exclaimed in frustration. “You said you were jealous having to watch him rut me. Is that not true?” she demanded.

“Ma chère... I was a little jealous, but I delighted in his pleasure as I did in yours,” Fleur replied, gently touching the side of Luna’s face with a hoof. “I could only have been happier if I was able to rut you myself. I have seldom been as excited as I was watching you two. It will be in my dreams for some time.”

Luna thought about Fleur’s words for some time. Afterwards, the smile she’d had before during their merry chase returned to Luna’s face. It was like seeing the moon though a break in the clouds on a stormy night. “I would wish to see those,” she said with a blush.

Fleur smiled back at Luna a little quizzically, uncertain if her little princess was being serious. Then she remembered the dream she’d had of Luna, and her eyes opened wide. “Do... do you often visit dreams?”

“Only when I am needed, normally.” Luna replied. “I try not to intrude.”

“I... see.” Fleur replied, unsure of what else to say. She recalled being intruded on very distinctly, not that she had minded.

“Yours was a special case, Dame.” Luna said, apparently guessing correctly about what Fleur had been thinking about. “I pulled you into a dream of my own devising, for my own selfish needs.”

“I didn’t mind, ma chère.” Fleur replied with a little smile. “Even if you had simply intruded in my dream I would not have minded. I had longed to see you again, just to make it all up to you. Though I am... sorry I was so bold with you.”

“I was... somewhat surprised, Fleur.” Luna said with a chuckle. “But then, ponies are ever bold in their dreams. And.. it was not the first time I’d had a kiss stolen from me thusly. Though you gave me enough of a shock that I was startled awake.”

Fleur kissed Luna lightly on the lips. “I hope I did not scare you too badly.”

“Quite the contrary.” Luna said with a little twinkle in her eye. “I woke with my sheets drenched with sweat and more... intimate substances. It was the first time in many centuries I’d needed to launder my own linens, but I did not wish to burden the cleaning staff.”

“Mon Dieu! What a scandal if you were seen!” Fleur replied, reaching up with a hoof to stroke the underside of Luna’s muzzle.

“I was not,” Luna replied, shuddering a little from Fleur’s touch. “I am very good at avoiding notice.” Her voice turned melancholy as she added: “Much better than I am at attaining it.”

Fleur made shushing noises, kissing the top of Luna’s head as one would a small child needing comfort. “Does ma petite princesse desire attention?”

“Perhaps...” Luna said in a slightly petulant voice.

Fleur smiled, levitating a bottle of shampoo from one of her shelves. “Let’s start with your mane, ma chère.”

She settled down atop Luna’s back, making the Princess grunt in surprise, but she did not protest. While Fleur could have used her magic, she wanted to get her hooves inside that lovely flowing mass. Luna’s mane was interesting, especially in its current state.

“Ma petite...” she said breathily into Luna’s ear. “Tell me, do you often have to launder your sheets?”

“No...” Luna replied, looking back at Fleur with earnest curiosity. “Why would I?”

“Well... surely if you have not been with a lover, you took care of yourself in other ways?”

Even from her position behind Luna, Fleur could see the lovely dark purple on Luna’s cheek’s growing even darker with her blush. “I... do not do such things in a bed.”

“Oh ho...” Fleur said with a knowing chuckle. “May I know where you do?”

The only sound was the constant water from the showerhead and the distinct but palpable silence coming from the Princess.

Fleur hummed happily as she massaged the back of Luna’s neck, working the later throughout the lengths of dark mane. Even wet, it moved in her hooves, a gently flowing mass of darkness that sparkled under the suds.

“In my bath.” Luna said suddenly.

“Ah,” Fleur said after a moment. “I am fond of that as well. The warm water relaxes and soothes... very comfortable.”

“I... I do it there so that it all gets washed away quickly.” Luna said, sounding horribly uncomfortable. “I don’t like to be sticky.”

“Hmmm, like in my bed, yes?” Fleur said, her humming taking a dour tone. “I am sorry, ma petite. I had thought to clean you myself. If I had known, I would have led you here instead.”

“No!” Luna said quickly. “I didn’t mind at all. I... I more needed some time to think, afterwards. I was troubled.”

“I see... Some time alone, then? Am I spoiling your plans even now?”

Luna turned her head, reaching up to kiss Fleur on the cheek. “I think I have had enough of time alone, Dame. I... I am sorry for being a pooper of the party.”

Fleur smiled, bopping her nose into Luna’s and briefly brushing her lips against the other mare’s. “Nonsense, ma chère. The party is for you, and you may do as you wish. You have already indulged me far more than I ever hoped, it is only fair I do the same in return.”

Fleur grasped the showerhead in her magic, redirecting the flow down into Luna’s mane to gently wash the lather away. “There, now you are perfect again. No more sweat, no more stickiness.”

“Again,” Luna repeated, rolling her eyes, but she was unable to conceal that she was pleased with the praise. “I was never, and will never be. I know of my flaws most intimately.”

Fleur just smiled in response, turning off the water with a deft magical twist. “I would not know, Princesse. I have yet to get to know you so well as that. But Fancy has known you, and I daresay he would agree with me.”

“Would you know Us, Dame?” Luna asked after a moment. “Doest thou still fear the approach of darkness?”

“I...” Fleur paused, taken aback at the sudden intensity of Luna’s gaze, she was reminded once more of Luna’s true age (or rather, her agelessness, which made it impossible to know), and of Luna’s power.

Fleur’s body trembled, and a small drop of moisture joined with the water as it drained from the shower floor.

“Thou art right to fear,” Luna said with a frankness that spoke not only of her confidence in what she was saying but also of a certain sadness in saying it. “We can be merciless and cold when We wish, but that need not be so. Wouldst thou feel Night’s embrace, know it as few have?”

Fleur said nothing for a long moment, a moment which seemed far longer in her mind than It perhaps was. For however long that it lasted, Luna held her gaze. In the Princess’s eyes there was neither judgement nor expectation. The fire that had been in those eyes during their game of prey and predator was not gone, but it no longer raged. Fleur knew she could make it blaze again, white hot, but yet... there was a fear still in those eyes. She could make the fear recede, perhaps until it no longer bothered her little princess, but only Luna could make it go.

“Not now,” she heard herself say. “You will think for a time, settle your worries. If you merely wish to visit, you are always welcome. But when next you ask, I will not flee.” Fleur searched Luna’s eyes urgently, hoping she’d said the right words, and found relief where the fear had been.

“I... I thank thee for thy understanding, Dame.” Luna said, lowering her gaze from Fleur’s own. “I did not wish to disappoint after pursuing you with such fervor.”

“Princesse...” Fleur said in a rush, embracing the other mare as if she were much smaller and younger than she actually was, “You cannot, ever. Nothing is expected of you. My only want is for your company and friendship. Any games we might play beyond that are gifts to each other.”

Luna said nothing, only returning the embrace.

“Come, let us dry you off.” Fleur said decisively. Part of her (the part left dripping with its own moisture) regretted her decision. But her heart felt at ease, and it was far louder when it came to her little princess.

Fleur tried to invite Luna to join them in their room, but Luna demurred, much to Fleur’s disappointment. Snuggling would have been good, but she respected Luna’s wish.

It was somewhat difficult for Fleur, as she still felt need of Luna’s company in a very carnal sense, but instead had acted in a way that was wiser for Luna.

She wasn’t used to thinking in such ways. She had never worried about such with her ducklings (perhaps some were more naive than others, but they were all certainly old enough to make their own decisions, even if some were only just old enough), but Luna seemed ill-equipped to make good decisions with regards to herself, and somepony needed to think of her best interests.

Of course, some niggling part of her mind mocked her for thinking as much. If there was anypony in the world old enough to decide for herself, it was surely the ageless princess, and if anypony were able to suggest otherwise, it certainly wasn’t the not-quite-young but certainly-not-old Fleur De Lis. But surely she was not to blame for wanting simultaneously to wrap her princess up in her arms to protect her from the hurts of the world and also to throw her down upon silk sheets and make her writhe and scream? The needs of the first unfortunately meant she had to decide if the second conflicted with it. If making love hurt Luna’s heart, then it could wait for Luna to be at ease.

Then the writhing and screaming would come without Fleur’s own heart troubling her.

Fancy stirred as she climbed into bed, turning to face her with a weary smile. “Was the shower pleasant?” he asked as she snuggled into his embrace.

“It was fine,” she replied, not wanting to elaborate.

He blinked at her, letting out a loud yawn. “Did you set her up in the guest room?”

“Oui, she did not wish to join us in our bed.” Fleur said, turning in Fancy’s embrace to become the little spoon to his larger. She sighed happily as she felt his forehooves cross over her chest and his muzzle brush past her mane to kiss at the side of her neck.

“Her loss. But she is the guest.” Fancy said breathily into her ear.

Fleur nodded, reaching out with her magic to extinguish the light next to their bed and closing her eyes, arching her back more fully into the curve of his body. She badly needed his warmth and affection in that moment.

Luna’s worries were bothersome. She knew nothing they would do with another ever threatened their love for one another, but Luna’s insistence on calling it adultery troubled her enough to wonder about things she had not ever before. Things she perhaps... took for granted.

“Fancy?” she asked, breaking the silence of their room.

He shifted against her in the darkness. “Yes, beloved?”

“Do... do I ask too much of you?” she said in a very small, unsure voice.

There was silence for a long moment, after which Fancy replied: “That seems a very odd question to ask in the middle of the night.”

“Just answer me, mon cœur,” she pleaded. “I need to know your feelings.”

“You’ve never asked for anything I didn’t want to give you, dearest,” he said, nuzzling against her ear. “The only thing I cannot give you is my heart, for you took ownership of that the moment our eyes met. I’ve never wanted it back.”

Fleur mewled as he nipped playfully at the base of her neck. His words were comforting, but she still felt somewhat troubled, though his hot breath on her back was making it hard to think properly. “Fancy... Ah!” she exclaimed. “I... I am being serious.”

He pulled her even more tightly into his embrace, simply holding her for a time. “My turn to ask something, I think. Did things go badly in the shower?’

She closed her eyes, more as a point of resignation to herself than anything else. “Not... badly, exactly. She was troubled. We talked, and I helped her shower.”

“Helped?” Fancy prompted, sounding concerned. “She wasn’t able to—”

“Non, she was fine. It was her heart that hurt. She felt a great guilt, afterwards.”

“Ah,” Fancy replied, sounding relieved. “Some are like that. I’ve had to console a few of our guests in the past.”

Fleur’s ears perked up in sudden alarm. “What? One of mes petits canetons was hurt?”

“No,” he said quickly. “As you said, they felt guilty, the next day, or several days later. Some ponies seem to think they take something from us, even if it’s been freely given,” she felt him move her mane as he shook his head. “Odd thought, that. Some just need a bit of reassurance. Others have wanted a hug, or a kiss goodbye. It’s not many, mind you. Most often it’s the younger ones.”

“I... see...” Fleur said, her heart sinking. It was as she had feared. How many hearts had she wounded? How many had come to Fancy for comfort? How many more had simply gone on hurting without any solace at all?

He sighed into her neck. “I’m making you worry. Dearest, take heart, it’s not very many at all. Maybe one or two in the last year. None have ever said they regret the time spent with us, just that they worried for us. Some ponies don’t quite understand how we are.”

How we are... Fleur thought, wondering at the words. But it wasn’t them, it was her. She made her ducklings, and her little Princess, worry. Fancy had not been some playcolt, bedding many mares, though many had followed him around and would gladly have been bedded by him.

She knew this because she had invited many of those same mares to be a guest for the evening, and they had accepted despite the invitation coming from his wife.

She had been the reason that they were to be worried about.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into the darkness, as much to those she had hurt as to Fancy.

“Sorry?” Fancy repeated. “Whatever for?”

“If I was a proper wife, who did not look at other ponies, you would not—”

Her sentence was stifled by the frog of Fancy’s hoof, and only after she had stopped trying to talk through it did he remove it from her mouth and use it to caress down the side of her muzzle. “Dearest, that’s enough of that, please. I didn’t marry you because you were some ideal! I married you because I love you.”

Her heart beat a loud and fast rhythm in her chest, and he gradually lowered his hoof from her mouth. “You did not need to let yourself fall just to join me.” Fleur said, shaking her head, then her ears perked up as she heard him chuckling behind her.

“Fleur... it’s been my greatest joy to do whatever will make you happy.”

“But... I could have been happy! You are wonderful, mon cœur. I could have held myself for you and you for me, and made nopony worry.”

Fancy simply hugged her a little harder. “I know you could have. Just as a pony can give up wine, or fine foods. But why should you have to? I don’t worry about sharing you, beloved. I am not afraid of losing your heart. I know it’s mine, just as mine is yours.”

As he said those words, Fleur felt him behind her, his flare hot and nudging at the back of her thighs. Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but there were no words necessary, his intent was clear enough. She parted her thighs and felt him slip through, felt him enter her in a slow but steady thrust, his passage eased by her yet-to-be sated arousal. She gasped as he filled her, not realizing how very much she had needed this from him until it was happening.

“Every part of me is yours,” he said, and she felt his pelvis met hers as he said it. He had a length and girth that stretched her nearly to the limits of her lithe form, and she was reminded of this even more so from this position, as she was able to take less of him from this angle. It was almost painful, in a delicious way.

“Every part of you is mine. When you make love to somepony else, I no more fear losing you than I would losing my hoof for accepting a hoofshake, or our home for inviting somepony into it.”

He drew out smoothly, and thrust back inside, jostling her on the bed. “A guest comes, they are entertained, and they go. Nopony can take you from me, no matter what we might do to and for them. Only you and I can let each other go, and I will love you so long as you love me.”

Not content with his leverage in their current position, he rolled her onto his lap, leaving her sitting heavily on him, impaled but not dying. His hips stabbed him upwards, and she moaned as she slammed her own hips down on him, making him fill her entirely, all the way down to his base. “Mon cœur! Je t'aime! Toi et seulement toi!”

“I know, dearest.”

Then there were no more words, as neither of them could manage the breath. She rocked, and he met her, again and again. It was an act of passion, and joy, and devotion. An act of two ponies who cared for nothing but the pleasure of the other, doing everything to achieve it, if only for a moment.

A geyser of hotness opened up inside of her, and she froze as she met him for a final time. Her body trembled and shook as she felt the little death, and she collapsed forward onto her forelegs, gasping for air as her mane clung to the side of her face, not unlike creeper vines on the side of their chateau in Prance. She felt him letting himself spend inside her even as every muscle surrounding him squeezed him for every drop he could give, and between them she felt a stickiness of sweat, arousal, and love escape from their joining.

When she felt the last of him pass to her, she allowed herself to fall backwards into his waiting forelegs, settling down to face him and kissing on his wide chest. “Mon cœur, je t'aime,” she said, again and again, making it almost into a chant of worship.

He reached up and stroked her matted mane, smiling down into her adoring eyes. No words were spoken as they kissed, no words were needed.

She had allowed herself to doubt him, to doubt her own heart. It hurt to admit that to herself. But he had once more been the steadfast rock of her life when she had needed him most. Just as he had been a rock for her poor sad ducklings.

Her ducklings, who had hurt because of her, but who had come to him for comfort. As hard as it was to hear these truths, she was glad for them to have had him to console them.

“Je t'aime, mon cœur,” she whispered as she allowed herself to drift off to sleep, safe in his arms.