Snow clung to the roof of Twilight’s great castle. Icicles clung to the branches and gave it the appearance of a great, gaudy Hearth’s Warming tree. They were already past the worst of the winter, but blankets of snow covered most of the Equestrian countryside. Being a dragon, Spike wasn’t one to care too much for snow, but it was Twilight’s favorite season.

The small room adjacent to her bathroom doubled as a nurse’s station and contained the bulk of her medical equipment for household needs. The window was open, and even though they were neck deep in snow, the air was warm enough to leave them open for now. Twilight let the winter air cool the bowl of boiling water and the tools lying within.

“Will it hurt?” Patchwork asked. She sat on a stool and fidgeted.

“Not in the slightest. And don’t pick!” Twilight slapped her hand away from fiddling with the stitches on her arm. Her skin had healed plenty since her reanimation, but given the sheer number of stitches she had, it was better to leave them in until now when she was sure they were all healed. It was time for them to come out. Medically, they needed to, but Twilight did so with a forlorn feeling in her heart. Her sewed up appearance was how she knew her, and to Twilight, it was a good look for her.

“Open. Got a surprise for you.” Twilight held up a thermometer.

“Again?” Patchwork whined, but complied and stuck it in her mouth

“Arm.” Patchwork extended an arm and Twilight rubbed the line of stitches with rubbing alcohol. Taking out her scissors and tweezers, Twilight performed the balancing act of cutting her stitches one by one. Gently pull the knot, snip. Pull, snip. Pull, snip.

“It itches.”

“Almost done.”

Patchwork squirmed in the chair as Twilight went up her arm little by little. She had hundreds and hundreds of stitches so there was no chance Twilight was going to get them all in one day, and Patchwork had zero patience to start with. It was an easy task, but slow enough to make Patchwork bob a leg up and down in restlessness. Twilight finished with one row and set her tools back in the bowl. Good, no bleeding. Her stitches were well and truly healed then. She’d still have her patched appearance, but there was no more risk of stitches becoming infected.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.” Twilight’s wings flittered and cooled her back. Patchwork gave her the thermometer. “Very good.”

“Why do we keep having to do this?” Patchwork asked irritably.

“I have to make sure you’re healthy.” Patchwork was plenty healthy; she hadn’t even caught the winter sniffles yet, despite Twilight’s week-long run with it and Spike accidentally incinerating lunch with a sneeze once. Despite that, conclusions couldn’t be given without a consistent stream of data. After almost four months, she had yet to show any ill effects of the procedure. If Twilight didn’t know any better, she’d say Patchwork was a perfectly healthy, home-grown pony.

“But why?” she whined. If there was one thing Patchwork was good at, it was whining. And puppy dog eyes. And getting into accidents. “Is it because I wasn’t born like a normal pony?”

“Not at all. I’m doing this to check if you got sick like I did a few weeks ago, but given you are the first pony to reanimate, it’s best if I know you’re healthy. If something’s ever wrong, the quicker I know, the quicker I can help you. Stethoscope.” Twilight looked around. “Where did I put the stethoscope?”

Patchwork pointed towards the table where Twilight had put extra bandages in case a stitch tore. “Ah! Time to check your heart and lungs. Lift—”

Patchwork pulled her sweater off entirely. Twilight turned on her heels and looked at the opposite wall. One side effect of being “alive” for such a short amount of time was Patchwork didn’t have a sense of modesty.

“Why are you blushing?” Gee, I wonder. “Spike likes to make fun of you when you blush.”

“That’s because Spike is Spike, and Spike has known me long enough to know how to press my buttons.”

Taking a breath, Twilight turned around. Patchwork was biting her lip in thought, a habit she picked up from Twilight. Patches didn’t mind in the slightest that both breasts were on proud display. A patch of pink skin ran along her collarbone, but otherwise her heavy breasts were a perfect blue. Twilight’s legs squirmed as she saw her nipples firming up in the cool winter air.

“Buttons?”

“Spike says things because he finds it funny when I get uncomfortable.” Like now. Her and Patchwork’s relationship was something nebulous and hard to title. It somewhat reminded her of Spike. Ever loyal, ever happy to be in her presence. She’d had the pleasure of living with Spike for many years, however. They knew each other better than they knew themselves. Patchwork... she only desired to be with Twilight. Nothing gave her more happiness than to be in Twilight’s presence. From a day out during Nightmare Night or dark and empty afternoons, to just spending a little time reading a book while Patches drew in her sketchbook.

There was something else there now.

Twilight swallowed. Trying not to look where she shouldn’t, Twilight breathed on the cup to warm it and placed it against Patches’ chest.

“Do I make you un... uncomfortable?”

Patchwork normally held that childish gleam whenever she saw the world around her. Now her tone was reserved and tinged with worry. Twilight dropped the end of her stethoscope and grabbed Patchwork’s arms firmly.

“No, not in the slightest! Patchwork, you are very dear to me and not a bother in the slightest. It’s just...” Boy, how to say this one?

“Then...” Patchwork bit her lip again as she tried to think of what to say. Twilight cut her off before she had the chance.

“Spike and I have been friends for a very long time. Sometimes he says things to provoke a response. He’s not trying to make me sad or angry or anything bad. He tries to make me laugh. He wants to make me see that things aren’t as bad as they seem.”

Patchwork tilted her head to the side. “So... huh? Was I... making you laugh?”

This was a can of worms she was hoping to avoid.

“Patches... what do you think of me?”

Patchwork blinked and cocked her head to the other side. “You’re Twilight. You’re nice and fun and you take care of me. I like you.”

“I... like you too. The thing is...”

Damn, she felt like a schoolfilly trying to explain a love letter to her first crush. She couldn’t keep what she was feeling bottled up forever. One slip of the wrong word and Patches knew something was up with their relationship. She was becoming quite the perceptive pony.

“I like you, Patches, but I... think I might like you a little more than I thought.”

“Is... isn’t that a good thing?”

A smile tugged at Twilight’s lips. Spike was going to need to give Patches “the talk”. This was becoming a lot harder than it should be.

“It is. I...” Twilight took a deep breath. “You’ve been so much fun to have in the house. Spike loves you, I love you, and now that you’re here, I’m not sure what life would be like without you. I’ve watched you smile and learn, and just find everyday things so endearing and fun.”

Twilight could see her piecing things together. The melancholy that she’d been feeling ever since her depressing observation log in October had been steadily filling with thoughts of the mare in front of her. So bubbly and happy, so full of life and joy. She would have loved to introduce her to Pinkie.

Her heart was awash in warmth as long as Patchwork was at her side. Bitterness and fear that had been growing ever since the return of Nightmare Moon was being combated by innocence and the thirst for life itself. Celestia’s letter illuminated so much of her fears, but more important than anything was Twilight wasn’t fearful of losing Patchwork in the slightest when she was wrapped around her arm that Nightmare Night.

“You love me?” Patches asked.

Love...

“I think I do.”

It took another minute for Patchwork to digest that. She leaned back and forth, side to side. Her mind was slow when still, so she liked to think on her feet.

“I think I love you too.”

Patches own cheeks tinted with color that slowly consumed her face. She started kicking her feet back and forth in nervous fervor. Her trembling hands clutched her sides.

A swift and tender kiss planted itself on Twilight’s lips. She blinked. What? It took a moment for her brain to catch up with what just happened. Patchwork just kissed her. The mare looked her in the airs for just a second before looking away with a bashful look that matched her undressed appearance.

“I wanted to push your buttons, too.”

A scaled and tailed figure stepped inside Twilight’s office and closed the door.

“You know, we could just get another bed and move it in here if you want. Anyway, I just had a chat with Patches. Catalog that as something I never want to do again, but it wasn’t nearly so bad or nerdy as your talk was with me. Can’t imagine what it was like getting it from Celestia. Screw Velvet. No offense to mom—she’s great—but I don’t see you asking her about the dance of dual cutie marks and it turning out okay.”

“I learned about sex and reproduction from books, Spike. And please never use that euphemism in my presence ever again unless you want your room repainted pink.”

Twilight had her desk light on and data from this week’s physical spread across her desk. She had been reading the same set of lines for about ten minutes straight and gave up out of frustration. Spike all but swaggered toward her and sat down next to the desk.

“Imagine that. And what did Celestia have to say when you asked her for specifics?”

“Nothing!”

“Hahaha! I don’t believe you.”

Twilight fumed and was silent. She tried one more time to scratch down her results. Hmmm... Patches was putting on weight. The silence stretched as she jotted down number after number. Quiet helped her think. Rainbow Dash liked music for white noise, Pinkie just acted instead of thought. She liked the quiet, but now it felt suffocating.

She put down her quill. “Just say it, Spike.”

He looked up at her. Why did he never sit in a chair?

“Hmm?”

“I know you want to say something.”

He tapped his claws on the floor. For a second, she thought he’d make her wait for a response, but he quickly said, “We haven’t done any experimentation in a while.”

“...Is that a bad thing?”

“Nah. I don’t mind free time. And you’ve got your mind on other things.”

Twilight didn’t say anything. Spike continued, “Honestly, didn’t like doing all the grim stuff that much. We’ve done a lot of grim stuff, Twi. Stuff I’m not all that happy with, but I did it all because it was important to you.” He pulled a vial of luminescent green of the fluid out of his pocket and set it on the desk. “Question is, where are you going to go from here?”

“...If you weren’t happy with what we were doing, you could have said something. I would have listened to you.”

It was an evasion, even he knew that. He answered the unspoken question regardless.

“Yeah, but it was important to you. I love you like a sister, Twilight. I may not have liked all the stuff that led to Patches; the experimentation, the work on animal bodies, digging up graves, breaking into buildings, all that. It was important, and I respect you enough to do it all because I know you’re not a bad pony. It... think of it as a thing of honor. I’m willing to put my own personal feelings aside for our friendship.” Twilight opened her mouth to interrupt, but he held up a claw. “No buts. I did it because your friendship was what I wanted. Not comfort, you.”

Twilight was quiet. Sitting there in the darkness with those green cat eyes staring back at her, she reflected once more on Celestia’s letter. Friends who were there not because they wanted something, but because it was right. Six elements, five friends. Each one was there for her, but more than any other, Spike would catch her if she were to fall.

“It’s times like these, little brother, that I think the element of loyalty chose wrong.”

It could have been the low light of her desk, but she swore she thought his eyes grew a little watery.

“Do you think I’m a bad pony?”

“I think you’re a lonely pony.”

Twilight moved and sat down next to Spike. He held out an arm and she leaned into his chest. Spike rocked them back and forth into the night as the sound of his heartbeat calmed her mind.

“I’m going to stop it all.”

He nuzzled her neck. “Whatever you wish, Twilight. I’ll be at your side.

“I know.”

...

...

“I really need to put a bed in here.”

Green was coming to the trees and the once white ground was turning into a brown slush as this year’s snow was quickly melted by the weather team. Patches wanted to go outside and watch, but she couldn’t just yet. Twilight had plans for that. With a little luck and some time, Patches would be able to go wherever she wanted and leave the castle.

All Twilight needed was one more letter. Now, how to write a letter that may very well ruin her life forever?

“Ugh!”

“Twilight?” Concern was thick in Patchwork’s voice. The slightest bother was met with the mare fussing over her like a mother hen. It was endearing in its own way.

“I’m just trying to think of what to write to Celestia. For once I’m having a little trouble.”

“Okay.”

Concerns of state or even personal matters were vomited onto paper and sent with a flash of dragonfire. That was how easy it had always been. Now that she had dipped into criminal territory, things were a little different.

Patchwork returned to one of her many sketchbooks. She was quite gifted with a brush or pencil. It was the final nail in the coffin that she was her own mare and not another pony made anew. She liked sketching just about everything. She’d sit at the window and draw the town day after day. Spike would skulk about the castle and the two would get together and plan out a comic book. Spike would write the entire thing, and she would draw the storyboard. Patchwork’s favorite subject to draw was none other than Twilight herself.

“You keep moving!” Patches whined. She had the perfect pitch of petulance and shame tactics down to a science, not that she’d need them. Patches would draw her at her desk, in the lab, reading a book, or any way that caught her fancy. More than once it turned into giggling fits and the occasional kisses in a dark room. Despite her knowing exactly what they were doing now thanks to the burden of explaining being mercifully passed onto Spike, the two of them never got farther than some heavy petting.

“Sorry.”

Patches was in the chair that Spike should really use if he didn’t want a bad back. She was hard at work sketching Twilight’s most occupied position chair in the castle. Box after box of papers cluttered the desk. She had gone through each one paper by paper, a task that took even her monumental mental muscles two full weeks to complete. They held the entirety of her notes concerning her thaumaturgical craft and reagent. Everything was in her head and carefully filed away for future use. Now all she needed to do was complete this damn letter that had been blank for the last ten days.

“Fuck me.”

Twilight rarely swore. She knew Applejack could curse up a storm when she thought no one was watching, and even Spike slipped a few every now and then, but Twilight was one to hold her mental integrity in high regard. Concise and accurate statements were her bread and butter, and cursing wasn’t needed to convey that. That taken into account, she still didn’t deny its use in relieving stress.

Twilight blinked. While she was distracted, Patchwork had picked up Twilight’s pocket dictionary and was looking through the pages. She set down the book and hugged Twilight.

The book was open to the ‘F’ section.

Oh, that was a hand reaching down her dress. Bad touch. Bad Touch!

“Patchwork!”

The mare backed off as if struck.

“Did I do something wrong!? I thought you—”

Twilight stood and hugged the mare. “No no no. You caught me off guard, Patches. I was more talking to myself than anything. I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

The patchy mare sighed in relief. With all of her stitching removed now, it looked odd seeing pink on blue skin.

“I... thought you were talking to me. I didn’t know that word so I looked it up and thought...” Patchwork blushed and twitched her tail as she trailed off. Neither had mustered up the courage to ask the other to take their relationship to the next level. The scientist in Twilight applauded Patches for taking the initiative. The rest of her was chastising her for not letting that slim hand go a little farther south. Twilight felt a little buzz between her legs.

It wasn’t like they didn’t secretly grope each other when Spike left the castle.

Eh, screw it.

Twilight leaned forward and planted a tender kiss on Patchwork’s lips. It was the exact same kiss Patchwork gave her a few months earlier; promising nothing, requesting everything.

She pulled away. That cute little blush spread across Patchwork’s cheeks. Both mares were breathing heavily. Twilight’s wings twitched. Patchwork’s chest heaved.

The two came crashing together with a fervent need that had been building between the two for months. Patchwork loved kissing more than anything during their brief sessions together. Her lips pulled from Twilight just for a moment to catch her breath before diving back, fighting to release the pent up sexual frustration she’d been feeling for so long. Twilight parted her lips and tentatively let her tongue slip forward to request entry. Patchwork granted it without a second thought. It quickly became a dance that spoke of nothing but the craven need begging to be released.

Whereas Patchwork focused on the lips, Twilight had always found herself drawn to the ample chest. She groped each tit from behind her sweater, squeezing and rubbing where she pleased. There was plenty of her to love, and as her hands roamed, Patchwork moaned into her mouth.

They parted for air again but no more words needed to be spoken. Patchwork yielded to the alicorn and was on her back across Twilight’s desk. Twilight put her hands under the sweater so there was nothing between her and those great globes that she desired. Kisses dotted her throat as she rolled Patchwork’s nipples under her palms. Stray paper, quills, and inkpots scattered as two frisky mares spread themselves across its surface.

Twilight could have worshipped those breasts all day. Hers were pitiful in comparison, and maybe that’s what drew her to lavish each with their proper affection. She circled one breast, memorizing each and every contour so she could commit it to memory. She pinched the other and received a delightful squeak.

Patchwork returned the favor and nipped at Twilight’s neck. She jerked in surprise but her lust-addled mind. Patchwork’s sweater was now getting in the way. Twilight tugged at the hem and lifted. She just wanted it above her breasts so she could satisfy the desire of latching onto one like a foal, but Patchwork lifted her hands so she could remove it altogether. No complaints from Twilight.

Two orbs of jiggling titflesh stared back at her. Twilight couldn’t stop the long, low groan of pure want dripping from her lips if she tried. Patchwork grabbed Twilight’s shirt and that too was promptly discarded. Twilight’s lips immediately fell to the left breast. Her tongue swirled around the nipple, each hand squeezing those massive mammaries for all they were worth. Patchwork wrapped her hands around Twilight’s head and moaned her name.

Twilight moved onto the other breast and gave it a nice, hard suckle. Books about psychology, maternity, fertility, and deviance danced in her head and were all promptly tossed in the mental trash as she nursed Patchwork’s breast. A pair of legs wrapped around Twilight’s back and held her in place. She wasn’t going anywhere. One of Patchwork’s delightful hands drifted lower and started caressing her own breasts along with a returned pinched nipple for good measure. It was enough for Twilight to finally let go of those heavy tits as she was dragged up to Patchwork’s equally divine lips for a wet kiss.

“The bed.”

The two mares rolled off Twilight’s sweat-stained desk and giggled all the way to the bed Spike dragged in a month earlier. Emboldened, Patchwork started pulling on Twilight’s dress. She slipped it off and stepped out, now clad in nothing more but a pair of frilly white panties. Twilight all but ripped the button of Patchwork’s pants off and yanked them down. What stared her in the face was a pair of jiggling thighs inside some lacy blue undies stained with Patchwork’s arousal.

One of Twilight’s undies.

“Oh, you naughty filly.”

Twilight wasn’t thinking in the slightest now. Everything was being driven by an insatiable need to ravish this wonderful creature created by her own hand. Twilight latched onto her panties with her teeth and slid them off Patchwork’s legs, all the while looking her in the eyes and daring her to look away. Twilight took a deep breath and savored Patchwork’s scent.

Apparently her show was enough to inspire imitation, for just as she stepped out of her panties, Patchwork insisted on removing Twilight’s in the same manner. By clumsiness or accident, she missed the first time and mashed her nose into Twilight’s twitching clit. She screamed in delight and watched as Patchwork slid her panties off as well.

The two collapsed onto the bed, naked as the day they were born. Twilight ended up on top again and the pair started giggling like fillies. Each other’s flesh was finally bare with nothing separating them. The two started kissing once again and entangled their fingers in each other’s grasp. Twilight could feel Patchwork’s nipples digging into her own chest and she thrust hers forward. Her leg found a space between Patchwork’s thighs and she started running against her bare crotch. Patchwork squealed and broke away from the kiss at the sensation only to have her lips and tongue captured once again by Twilight. Twilight felt the little tuft of hair rubbing up against her leg and the fluid plastering herself and the bed. Oh, goddesses, she wouldn’t stop this even if Spike walked in. Even if the goddess walked in.

Not wanting to be left out on the fun, Twilight started humping Patchwork’s leg. Her clit, finally being given its due, buzzed enough to make her catch her breath in her throat. Patchwork was already halfway gone. Her love of Twilight’s lips was lost on her and the mare was soon panting and groaning on the bed, her mane fanned out across her pillow. Well, it gave Twilight the perfect chance to return to those fantastic tits of her. She wrapped her arms around Patchwork’s waist and started licking and sucking to her heart’s content. Patchwork’s finger wrapped around her head again and held her in place.

“Twi...Twi...” She couldn’t even finish her name. The pair of them rubbed their bodies over each other as if parting meant death. Twilight’s own clit was burning and begging for more as she mashed her cunt into her marefriend with wanton abandon. Every thrust filled her with a surge of adrenaline like a stallion’s blood running through her veins. Her own orgasm was so very close at hand. So close. So close...

Patchwork came first. Her arms tightened around Twilight’s head and she screamed her release. Twilight’s thigh was complete doused in mare cum and she took great pleasure in smearing it all over Patchwork’s glazed nether lips. As Patchwork stopped seizing and began to come down, Twilight’s own orgasm came rumbling up right afterwards. She felt herself contract and she shouted Patchwork’s name in absolute ecstasy.

Twilight collapsed onto her marefriend’s chest. She moved a little until her head was comforted by those marshmallowy globes. Patchwork’s heartbeat thudded against Twilight’s ear as she snuggled into her chest. She felt exhausted, the lust in her having finally been tempered. Patchwork wrapped her arms around Twilight and pulled her up for one more kiss.

“That...”

“Yeah...”

The scent of sex was heavy in the air, a final reminder of the love the two of them shared. Patchwork was the first to rouse. Twilight was too tired to resist Patchwork turning them both over until Patchwork kneeled over her, eyes between her legs.

“Um...” They just made out on Twilight’s desk and bed, and now she was nervous? “Can I...?”

Twilight chuckled, “Go ahead.”

“I’m not sure what to do,” she muttered quietly.

“All it takes is practice. Did you like what I did with you?”

Patchwork giggled. “Yes I did.”

“There you go. Start with that and experiment.”

Twilight lay on her back and spread her legs. Patchwork bent down to examine her drooling nethers. Her post-sexual high was still making her feel calm and happy, and yet as she lay there splayed open like a common trollop, the all too familiar buzz of excitement rekindled. Patchwork nervously put a hand on each thigh.

“It’s all okay, Patches. Start with whatever you like.”

“What if... you don’t like it?”

“Come here,” she beckoned. Patchwork obeyed and leaned forward. Twilight cupped her cheek and pulled her in for another kiss. Unlike their previous passion-filled amore, this was soft and tender.

“There is nothing you could do that I will hate, Patches.”

Patchwork smiled happily and dove in for another quick peck on the lips. Her goal reinvigorated, she resumed examining Twilight’s vagina. She brushed her hair out of the way and leaned forward.

“You smell different.”

Twilight giggled. Out of all the things to say...

“Sex inherently has some strange smells.”

“I didn’t believe Spike. But you smell... nice.”

Patchwork continued her examination. Her hands caressed Twilight’s thighs until they came up to the little cleft between her legs. Her breath caught in her throat as a finger trailed along the little slit. She watched Patchwork examine the slick fluid stuck to her finger before the curiosity became too great and she licked it.

“That tasted weird.”

“All females do that during sexual arousal. Even you.”

Patchwork looked down to her own sticky thighs. Twilight couldn’t stop herself from moaning as Patches slid a finger across her own nether lips and tasted herself.

“I think I taste better.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Twilight purred.

Twilight twitched as Patchwork ran a hand across her mound. Her own clit was buzzing with excitement and ready for another round now that Patchwork was willing to return the favor. A pair of fingers spread her labia open and she felt the cool air.

“Now most of the vagina is an erogenous zone, Patchwork. There’s the labia—those are the lips, the vagina is the passage, and you see the little nub at the top?”

“No.” Patchwork bent lower.

“There’s a little hood a the the top. You might see a little nub under it, and that’s called the clitoris—” Twilight bucked her hips as it was stroked by a little finger.

“Found it!”

At least she was eager.

“Alright, now do what you like.”

Patches held Twilight’s nether open, poking and prodding as she pleased. A little nod or shake from Twilight guided her every step of the way. A little clit rubbing here, a stroke across the labia there. Twilight kept up her assurances and soon Patchwork was emboldened enough to slid a finger inside. Twilight’s hum of delight caused Patches to thrust her finger slowly back and forth. Patchwork’s palm pressed against her mound and gently rubbed against her clit.

“That’s it,” Twilight moaned.

Patchwork withdrew her finger and held it up to the light. Twilight swore she was going to taste her marecum again before smile crossed Patchwork's lips. She held her hand out to Twilight, who grinned wickedly and opened her mouth. She suckled Patchwork’s finger and an all new burst of heat flooded her cunt. First her breasts, then her finger. She was beginning to think she had some sort of complex.

Patchwork giggled and squirmed as Twilight wrapped her tongue around her finger, cleaning every little bit of her tart marecum off the offered finger. Patches pulled her hand away, much to Twilight’s disappointment, but those luscious lips replaced them. Patchwork embraced her slender body with one arm and the other slid down to Twilight’s cunt. Two fingers plunged into the molten heat.

“Keep going,” Twilight begged between kisses. “Finish me... mmmm... off.”

Twilight was not one to remain idle and let her hands wandered all across Patchwork’s hefty body. Twilight latched onto her jiggling ass and kneaded the supple flesh in each palm. Patchwork moaned into the kiss and Twilight took over as the dominant tongue. Patches tried a third finger much to Twilight’s delight. Back and forth they plunged and made such spine-tingling pleasure. Twilight bucked her hips in time with each thrust. There were only three inside her, and yet because she was so much smaller, her cunt felt utterly stuffed.

Her spine arched as she came, mashing her breasts into Patchwork’s side. That lovely hand and perfect lips didn’t dare part as they loved the alicorn from both ends. Patchwork giggled in delight at finally getting her off. This orgam wsn’t nearly so desperate, bestial, or powerful as her first, but it lasted much longer.

Twilight collapsed, panting. A trio of fingers pressed against her lips, and she began licking them clean with a herculean effort. She felt utterly drained and exhausted, her orgasm stronger because of who caused it. Never in her life did she feel more relaxed when Patchwork’s naked body curled up next to her. Tired as they were, they sleepily embraced each other as the sun died for the evening. Twilight cuddled into Patchwork’s chest, and the latter rubbed her hair as they basked in each other’s love.

Dear Celestia,

Now you will have to forgive me. I know I haven’t responded to your reply with a letter or a visit, but several things have been on my mind. I’ve stewed over your response for a long time. If it were a puzzle or a test problem, I’d have an answer in a snap, but this was something much deeper than a superficial worry or a friendship problem.

I suppose you could call it an inch deep, but a mile wide. This fear I’ve had in no way crippled me or prevented me from going about my daily business, but it was always there, ever-present. It was like a harmless spirit, but a spirit that never stops watching. I’m not scared of dying. Perhaps that’s just ignorant posturing, but experience has taught me that I can equip myself against threats. I’ve faced danger before, but this particular nagging doubt was something that can’t be defeated, bribed, or reformed. It is just something that exists.

I know there’s such a thing as death anxiety, but does that apply when speaking about others and not one’s own mortality? Regardless, that feeling has been unconsciously motivating me for some time. I’ve read the stories before. I’ve read reports about ancient necromancers raising the dead when soldiers were few. Unkillable revenants rising from the afterlife to serve a master’s will gave me the occasional nightmares as a foal. I never liked the idea of a soul being forced from its peaceful slumber to unwillingly do another’s bidding. The stories say revenants kill their masters just to return to their sleep. I don’t blame them.

I am such a hypocrite.

There is no easy way to say this, Celestia. I’ve done things I haven’t told you about. I’ve done terrible things. I’ve turned my back on some of your teachings all in the name of protecting my friends. I did so because I was endlessly afraid of a coming storm that I had foolishly believed I could avoid.

I was so fearful of the future and what it might hold that I blinded myself to the present. I began asking myself what would I do when the parties stopped? The outings ended? The kindness withered? The family died? The fun ceased? I stopped seeing what I had and started dreading what I would lose.

I’ve tainted myself. Even though I haven’t physically harmed anypony, I committed a grave sacrilege all because of some misbegotten fear. The one good thing that came of that fear was its very cure, although not in the way I so foolishly hoped. I’ve learned to embrace what I so thoughtlessly cast aside over some misplaced sense of altruism. I’ve learned how little I understood the love of those dearest to me, even when I’ve been by their side for years. I’ve learned the depths people will go to for love, even at the cost of their own likes and values. I’ve even learned how to love.

I will be coming to Canterlot next week, and I’d very much like you to meet her.

I’ve done some bad things, Celestia. I know you may not agree with what I’ve done, and I accept that. All I ask is that you understand what I want to tell you and why I did it. If I was your safe harbor in those dark days so long ago, I ask you to please be mine. Spike has been utterly wonderful during these past years. He’s done so much for me out of love. I don’t deserve him. I think he’s tearing up a little and I know he’s not going to grow a pair and write that down. Sorry, don’t write that, Spike. I’m getting emotional.

I love you, princess, through the good times and bad. I look forward to seeing you soon.

Your loving student,

Twilight Sparkle

Spike rolled up the scroll and handed it to Twilight, a glimmer of tears glinting in each other’s eyes.

“You sure it’s a good idea, showing her to Celestia?”

“Yes.”

“I know how much you’ve grown attached to her. Tell her too much, and the law might tie her hands.”

“It won’t come to that.”

Twilight tied, sealed, and stamped the scroll. She didn’t even hesitate when handing it back to Spike.

“And all of this,” he said, nodding towards the piles of research notes and the refrigerator containing the last stock of reagent. “She might want to see some of it, if for nothing other than proof.”

“Burn it all, Spike.”

“I know I asked before, but I was kidding about setting fire to everything.”

“I’m not.”

Spike’s poker face was back. Twilight just felt tired.

“You going to be okay?”

“Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.”

The last stage. The weight was gone from her shoulders. She wanted a Pinkie party, apple cider, Dash’s pranks, Spike’s terrible jokes, everything she’d ever loved stuffed into a single morning.

“I want to introduce Pinkie to Patchwork. You want to come?”

Spike looked at her as if he’d never seen her properly in his life. He picked up a box. “Yeah. See you in a bit.”

Author's Note

I have a Patreon now that I am on the run from the king. He didn't approve of me climbing to the princess' bedroom.