It had been little more than a month since what had been called the Silent Invasion, and life in Canterlot had already long returned to the standard definition of ‘normal’. Princess Celestia had quietly commented at her relief that no repairs had been needed; in fact, the clean-up required only a press conference and the overturning of a few suspect bills that had been passed in her absence. Prince Blueblood, incidentally, had yet to stop sulking.
It had been the intention of the diarchs to make a diplomatic visit to the new changeling kingdom at the end of the month. All those who discussed the matter agreed: it was essential that a strong relationship with Equestria be part of this new changeling way of life from the outset (though some for less valiant reasons than others), but there was a difficult line to be hoofed. Ponies and changelings had gone from lifelong enemy to potential allies literally overnight, and the Princesses were keen that they not be seen to be smothering the new regime.
Imagine their surprise, then, when the changelings appeared one day at the gates of Canterlot.
⁂
A golden chariot carrying a purple-coated alicorn circled the palace as it aligned itself for approach. Normally the passenger would have insisted that she could have flown herself, but protocol dictated that a princess of Equestria should appear prim and proper when greeting a foreign delegate. The effort was not entirely in vain: Twilight Sparkle disembarked with only a single strand of hair sprouted upwards; the result of having the duration of the flight to stew on what she had learned that morning.
To the disappointment of many, the palace did not, in fact, have a landing pad within its walls (not an official one, anyway; the palace staff had learned to duck and cover whenever they saw a rainbow-coloured contrail through an open window). The chariot landed a few blocks away in a secluded area that had long been used for the discreet coming-and-goings of whomever made use of it.
Naturally, the press had swarmed it.
“Princess Twilight!” exclaimed one reporter mere moments after the alicorn had disembarked. “News Hound, from the Canterlot Inquirer. What is your statement on the re-appearance of changelings in our city?”
“No statement at this time,” Twilight responded flatly. “You’ll have one after we’ve spoken with the delegates.”
“What do you think the changelings intend to gain with this foray?”
“It isn’t a foray, just a diplomatic mission. We’ll let you know of the details as they become known.” Another pre-prepared response. All good so far.
“So the crown is refusing to comment on this development?”
The alicorn’s breath hitched in her throat. Of course they would turn no response into a response of their own design. She hadn’t prepared for this.
“I–”
“Not at all, Mr. Hound,” came a third voice. Twilight and News Hound turned to see that a blue-coated alicorn had quietly joined them. “I believe Princess Twilight merely prefers to have all the facts before she makes a report.”
The reporter opened his mouth to make a retort that never quite came, as he registered who exactly was now towering over him, a deadpan expression on her face. Glancing back, he noticed that the crowd of journalists weren’t quite so eager to crowd now that Princess Luna had arrived, and quickly fell back. The two princesses walked the rest of the way to the castle without incident. It wasn’t until they had passed beyond public earshot that Luna spoke.
“It is good to see you again, my friend,” the elder princess intoned.
“You too, Luna. Thanks for your help back there.”
“Think nothing of it. This is the first major political… event, that you will have encountered as a princess. You may find the reporters to be… enthusiastic.”
“They’re relentless,” Twilight groused. “I don’t know how you put up with them...”
“Nothing more than experience. You will learn how to deal with them in time.”
The implications of that sentence didn’t fill her with hope, but Twilight put the issue aside. “So... how are things going?”
Luna huffed through her nostrils. “As smoothly as we could have hoped, I suppose. We were waiting for you to arrive, but King Thorax has already said that he has no specific requests. This seems to be a social visit.”
“He’s just visiting as a friend?”
“Partially. Partially, methinks, he wants to make the first step towards changelings becoming accepted in pony settlements; ensuring that they don’t cause a riot wherever they appear.”
“Well, that didn’t work.”
“On the contrary, his plan is working quite well. The delegation will be inside for the majority of the visit; ponies will know they’re here, but they won’t be encountered face-to-face until things have calmed down. So we just need to make sure the visit is well-documented…”
“So that’s why you let those reporters crawl all over the place,” Twilight realised aloud, as Luna’s face gained a familiar ‘you see what I did there’ twinkle. “Any more tricks in mind?”
“One, actually,” Luna replied. “I would like for you to meet one of them away from the negotiating table.”
Twilight almost tripped over her own hooves. “Away from the negotiating table?” she echoed. “I barely know how we’re going to greet them in a normal–”
“And they know even less,” Luna interrupted her. “So while Thorax, Celestia and I go through the motions for the cameras, you can actually get to know one of them.”
“Let me guess,” Twilight started, lip curling upwards. “‘Friendship is magic’?”
“I was going to say ‘politically expedient’,” Luna replied, her own smile growing, “but that works too.”
⁂
Not to her surprise, Fey was currently the only one in the library. The place was familiar to her; in her previous life, it had been a safe house in the middle of enemy territory, a place she could go in between acts; she had visited it practically every time her duties brought her to Canterlot. Before, though, she always read under disguise, and the silence had felt not oppressive, but welcoming. Though the bright, pastel-hued leg she now saw was still unfamiliar to her, it left her feeling… naked.
Not exactly vulnerable, though. Her journey to the library had given her ample opportunity to find that her senses were as sharp as ever. Each corner turned and door opened revealed another pony; another barely-concealed emotion for her to sample, running the gamut from the icy chill of fear to the sharp tang of curiosity. A new room meant a new equation to solve; emotions that needed to be linked to a subject and a target. Now, though, in the solitude of the reference section, there was only the dirge of excruciating, mind-numbing research.
Like all the changelings of Thorax’s hive, she no longer bore the dark, angular appearance she once did, but her form had not lost its litheness. Her eyes were perpetually half-lidded, as if every little thing around her was at once some form of delectable amusement and an object of intense scrutiny. Her mouth, at rest, was straight and narrow; now, it was curled into a wan smile that did not falter even as she noticed Twilight enter. Her every movement was steady, slow and measured – somehow, the simple act of standing up was a spectacle, as she unfolded her langly legs and rose to her full height – just shy of that of Celestia.
Twilight had to keep herself from staring, and mentally braced herself, determined that her first greeting should not die on her lips. “Ambassador Fey?”
“Yes, Princess Twilight,” the changeling responded, bowing her head. “It’s a pleasure.”
One part of Twilight’s brain made to pinpoint the accent – the pulled-back l-sound, the slightly stilted emphasis on each word, the unfamiliar intonation – but she put it to the back of her mind. “Likewise. I’d ask how you’re enjoying Canterlot, but I guess you’re already familiar with it?”
“You could say that,” Fey remarked, casting her gaze around the room. “Mostly, though, I just came here in my… off-time.”
Twilight peered at the cover of the book at Fey’s hooves, and her eyes promptly widened. Fey swore she felt a sudden jolt of ludus.
“Is that... A Brief History of Magic?”
Fey nodded. “Your schools of magic are more defined than ours. Changeling magic is taught by demonstration more than anything. ”
“Changeling magic?” Twilight echoed, silently wishing she had brought a notepad.
Fey hummed in confirmation, before her nostrils flared. “Mmm... dark rye and sourdough.” She turned back to Twilight, who looked on in confusion. “You have a connection to this book, yes?”
“Yeah. My foalsitter used to read it to me,” Twilight confessed, a blush coming to her cheeks. “You mentioned bread; does that mean something?”
“It means what it means to you. To me, nostalgia is fresh bread and oven heat. A bakery in lower Canterlot: my first posting here.”
“That’s how you sense emotions? What’s it… like?”
“Hmm… you’d have to feel it for yourself.” Fey considered for a moment. “It’s like… smell. The smell of hope, curiosity, fear; that sort of thing.”
Fey beckoned to her side, eyeing Twilight expectantly. Cautiously, the alicorn walked over to her. Once she was in place, Fey closed her eyes, seemingly concentrating.
“This place is relaxing to you,” she observed after a moment. “You don’t normally get that in a reference section.”
“I’ve been coming here almost my whole life,” Twilight admitted. “My mentor used to teach me here.”
“Oh, I know,” Fey said with a wry smile. “I was here a couple of times.”
“You were?” Twilight prompted. “But the only other ponies would have been…” Fey’s lips curled into a grin as Twilight searched her memories for a recurring face.
“A potted plant by the east window,” Fey answered eventually. “If someone was tailing certain subjects all the time, ponies would get suspicious; but no-one seemed to notice that a plant was missing half the time.”
Twilight’s eyes lit up in recognition. “I think I know the one.” Then, brow furrowing, “Wait, didn’t Princess Celestia always empty her cup of tea into–?”
“Yes,” Fey dead-panned, crossing her hind legs uncomfortably. “Yes, she did. Anyway, inanimate objects worked most of the time, if you just wanted to listen in on something. But if you wanted to twist a leg, sometimes you needed to have hooves on the ground.”
“You were in the military?”
“A couple of times. Sometimes it was counter-intelligence so we’d keep other ‘lings from being discovered.” She glanced at the ceiling in remembrance. “One time I found myself disguised as a covert infiltrator working in the badlands, hunting for the changeling hive. Easiest job I ever did.”
“I don’t remember hearing about that…”
“You wouldn’t. Princess Celestia didn’t want ponies knowing that the changelings were still considered a threat, so the entire situation was a black op. After each operation, we were sure to discard all records of where we’d been.”
“Fascinating,” Twilight stated, almost to herself. “What was his name?”
“Private Browsing,” Fey answered. “A faux identity, before you ask. More often than not, we didn’t replace ponies on a long-term basis; the longer you stay, the more likely it was you’d be found out. But sometimes we’d need information for ourselves.”
“Information you couldn’t get yourselves?”
Fey nodded. “So, if you needed more grunt than what a few infiltrators could manage, you could just make sure a tip-off got given to the right ponies.” She suddenly bit her lip. “Oh, I’m sorry. Your brother was in the military, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” Twilight answered, though she suspected the question was rhetorical. “Cadence managed to drag him into an early retirement, but he wasn’t happy about it. He still lends a hoof training the Crystal Defence Forces when he can.”
“Ah, I see. I don’t think I met him before–”
And with that, the conversation came to a screeching halt.
“Please, don’t worry about it!” Twilight said hurriedly. “It’s not your fault. I mean, even if it was, I–”
“Princess,” Fey interjected. “Don’t worry. It is behind us now.”
The two composed themselves, but the damage had been done. The familiar scent of home-cooking had been replaced with disinfectant and washing-up socks.
“Ambassador, I’m no politician,” Twilight stated. “I’m the Princess of Friendship, not the Princess of Fraternisation.”
Fey couldn’t keep herself from laughing. “Just give it time. I’m sure there’s someone around here who could fit the role.”
Somewhere else in the palace, Prince Blueblood sneezed. A particularly sharp-witted physician immediately declared him unfit for negotiations, and thus disaster was – for the moment, at least – averted.
“Maybe," Twilight responded. "But perhaps we could leave the formalities aside? I’d love to know more about you.”
Fey needed only to consider it for a moment before responding: “I’d like that. I am sure there is much I can teach you of my kind, Princess.”
“Please: just call me Twilight.”
“Ah, of course. I suppose our titles have served their purpose.” Fey retook her seating position. “So: what is it that you would like to know?”
⁂
“It looks like they’re ready for us.”
King Thorax eyed the curtain apprehensively, subconsciously straightening his posture. Beyond that veil was a group of ponies ready to record and judge his every move. The familiarity of the situation was not lost on him; but this time, he wasn’t doing it just for himself…
“Nervous?”
The question jolted him out of his reverie. Princess Celestia stood beside him, eyes gentle and mouth smiling. It was enough to assuage at least a few of his fears.
“A little,” he replied. “I guess they’ll find something to complain about, won’t they?”
“Oh, inevitably. A few years ago, they managed to turn my choice of dessert into a national scandal.” Thorax blinked in bewilderment, but Celestia simply shook her head. “Don’t worry about trying to please them,” she advised. “They’re just the messengers. There are ten million ponies out there who want to say hello; they’re the ones you’re talking to.”
Thorax nodded in comprehension, taking his place at the alicorn’s side. “Right. Okay. Let’s do it.”
As one, the two walked forward, the curtain parting to reveal them to the room. Immediately, the room was filled with the noise of incessant shutter clicking. Behind the wall of camera flashes, Thorax could make out a sea of some few dozen ponies wielding notepads and pencils, separated from them by some mishmash of microphones and pop filters.
Celestia’s stride didn’t falter for a moment. She took her place and met the gaze of every reporter that had gathered before she began.
“Thank you all for coming. I am delighted today to be joined by King Thorax, the new ruler of the changeling empire. His heroic actions in saving Equestria from Queen Chrysalis are still fresh in our minds, and remind us of the principles upon which our nation was founded: of inclusion, trust and friendship.”
The princess paused for a moment, during which the sound quills scratching against notepads filled the room. The claminess of anticipation had faded, to be replaced with new parchment. At the very least, Thorax noted, he had the benefit of the doubt. Celestia turned to him, silently cueing him.
For a terrifying half-second, Thorax drew a complete blank on the speech he had prepared.
“For generations, my changelings only knew of Equestrian life from the outside. We hid in the shadows, convinced that we had no part in it. But all those months ago, in the frigid wastes beyond the Crystal Empire, I discovered the love that Equestria has to offer; first from Spike the Dragon, and then from Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armour. I’m thrilled now to call that way of life my own. Above all else, I and each of my people have learned that the warmth of friendship is greater than any torch of war.”
As he finished, Thorax forced himself to stand firm, not to immediately avert his gaze. The reporters were again buried in their notebooks, so he spared a glance at Celestia, who returned it with a blink and a nod. Silently, he let out a breath. Just like that, it was over. The two royals returned to behind the curtain, and the scent of microscopes faded.
“That was your first time speaking in public?” Celestia asked gently.
“Erm… to ponies, at least, yes.”
“You did well. I’d like to say I was as calm my first time.” Thorax met the alicorn’s gaze, not sure how to respond.
“What was that device I was speaking into? It didn’t look like I’d need a microphone to be heard in that room.”
“Oh, you didn’t. We’ve been exploring the possibility of recording press events.” Celestia retrieved a record from the corner of the room. “I did tell you you were speaking to ten million ponies, didn’t I?”
Thorax’s jaw hung open. “You were recording me? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I thought you might not want it on your mind.” Celestia placed the platter in a sleeve, and offered it to him. “Nopony outside of a few select staff know that this was recorded. What happens with this record now is up to you.”
Thorax eyed the record, willing himself to breathe steadily. Sure, nothing had gone wrong, but to think that Celestia had pulled this on him without his knowing…
“...Do with it as you will,” he said, failing to keep a hint of bitterness from his voice.
“Very well. That’s all the official business for now. I need to tend to my duties.” She beckoned towards the sun edging towards the horizon as she spoke.
“Oh, of course. I will see you for breakfast tomorrow, then?”
“Certainly. Good night, King Thorax.”
Thorax allowed himself to breathe again. Sure, he hadn’t received a standing ovation, but the reporters weren’t his audience; the general public was. With all her experience, the Princess seemed happy with the outcome. Thorax allowed himself a little optimism.
It lasted until they stepped back into the passageway.
⁂
Celestia was long accustomed to having a pair of guards shadowing her every step; not so much to a division of eight, waiting expectantly for them with spears at their backs.
“Gentlecolts,” she began, willing her voice to remain even, “can I help you?”
“Princess Celestia, King Thorax," the guard began, giving a respectful nod to each, "we are to accompany each of you to your quarters for the night.”
Celestia blinked. "I was not aware of such an order being given," she stated, her voice purposefully still and subdued.
“It’s just a precaution, your highness," the guard explained, undeterred. "In your absence, the court passed a vote to provide greater security for the duration of King Thorax’s visit.”
Celestia could see Thorax’s gaze on her, desperate for explanation. But she had none.
“I… see.” Straightening herself, she turned to her guest. “We will address this in the morning. In the meantime–” she paused, bowing her head “–goodnight, King Thorax.”
Without giving him a chance to respond, Celestia turned and began the small procession back to her chambers, unable to keep her nostrils from flaring as her mind raced with questions.
Who instigated that vote? Were they genuinely that concerned about the changelings’ presence? And if not, what was their intention?
The princess walked on autopilot, subconsciously giving a clipped ‘thank you’ to her guard before closing the chamber doors behind her. Silently, the sigh that she had been holding back the whole time escaped her.
The polite clearing of a throat that followed probably should not have caused her to jump quite as high as it did; but her panic left as soon as she saw who else was in her bedroom.
"Twilight," she exclaimed, eagerly embracing her fellow princess. "I don't suppose I have you to thank for my escort."
“No; I was hoping you could tell me. Did something happen?”
Celestia groaned. “Nothing I shouldn’t have seen coming. Somepony has decided that I need protecting from my own guests.”
“Somepony?” Twilight echoed. “Only a few ponies would have the power to decide that…”
Celestia hummed in agreement. “I couldn’t say no. If I had, the message would have been ‘Princess At War With Her Own Court’. As it is, they’ve got what they wanted.” She began pacing her room, eyes lowered. “Their aim wasn’t to have security increased; they just wanted to get the idea circulating. Our guards are now under public scrutiny, and as such they will be paying careful notice of all movements around the castle. Our own actions will be recorded just as much as Thorax’s.”
“Why do they want to know what the changelings are up to every moment?”
“They probably don’t. If the changelings intend to pursue something underhoofed while they’re here, an increase in guards won’t stop them. Ms. Fey herself is a natural infiltrator - I believe she has spent some time here in the past.” Celestia shook her head. “This is going to get complicated. But enough of that. Speaking of which, how did your meeting with the ambassador go?”
“Well–" Twilight paused "–I think.”
Celestia cocked her head. “You think?”
Twilight sighed. “I don’t know. She told me about some of her disguises, I told her about Ponyville, but… the whole time, it was like she could look straight through me. I guess it’s going to be difficult to keep secrets from them.”
Celestia couldn’t keep herself from wincing. “I may have made a mistake. I recorded the press event with Thorax without telling him. I didn’t want him to be any more nervous than he was… but I don’t think it helped.”
“I’m sure he’ll forgive you. Thorax wouldn’t hold a grudge.”
“It’s not Thorax I’m worried about, Twilight. I’m used to keeping my cards close to my chest, but… I don’t think I’ll have that luxury now.”
“You’re worried that she’ll find out about us?”
“No. I’ve no doubt she will, though; everypony will know eventually.” Celestia couldn’t miss how Twilight flinched at that. “Does that worry you?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Twilight, ponies were gossiping about our relationship long before it even existed. They do love to invent trysts...” Celestia chuckled to herself. “But I don’t think that’s what bothers you. You’ve proven that you are my equal time and again, now, but I don’t think you’ve yet accepted it.”
Twilight’s gaze fell to the floor, silent. Celestia walked to her side and draped a wing over her, which she gladly accepted. Finally, she whispered: “I miss the days when you had all the answers.”
“Those days didn’t end as recently as you think, Twilight. When your only concerns were formulae and mathematical principles, maybe then I knew everything. But you taught me, too, even before I sent you to Ponyville.”
“But even then, if I really got it wrong, you could always swoop in and make it all right.”
“Would you rather go back to those days?”
“...No.”
Celestia nodded. “I may no longer be your superior, Twilight, but I will always be here for you. Besides–” she turned to her nightstand, and with a hiss of magic, her crown and peytral were lifted from her head and deposited with a subtle clack on the wooden surface “–you may find you enjoy being on top.”
It was the signal that had evolved between them over the months. Twilight looked back, and sure enough, Celestia was watching with a knowing smile and a wing opened in invitation. The young alicorn sprung to her mentor’s side and nuzzled her snout into the wing-joint, humming in contentment as the soft, downy feathers ensconced her. She craned her head upwards to rub against the wing joint, pinching the sensitive muscles gently with her teeth, eliciting a satisfied sigh from the mare above her.
Celestia led her partner to the bed, slipping off her footwear as she walked lopsidedly. Reaching it, she lit her horn again, and with a squeal, Twilight was deposited upon it, her back to the mattress. Celestia placed a hoof either side of her, and leaned in to continue nuzzling, breathing in as Twilight exhaled.
“I missed you,” she breathed, moving down to nip at her lover’s neck.
“Oh? Politicking just not the same alone anymore?” Twilight crooned, stretching her head back, exposing her fur.
“That… and a few other things.”
“Like wh–ah!” Twilight exclaimed as Celestia suddenly nipped at a sensitive patch of skin. Her wings flared in excitement, and the elder alicorn wasted no time in attacking her newly-exposed weak point.
“You really must learn to control these things,” Celestia chided her. “I’d have thought you flew here yourself. Have you been using any oil?”
“Never found the time for it…” Twilight murmured between gasps. “D-didn’t see the point.”
“You seem to like mine well enough,” Celestia observed, her voice going low. “I’ve half a mind to tie you up and do it myself.”
At those words, Twilight froze, not daring to move lest she somehow disturb what was about to happen. Undeterred, the alicorn above her continued her affections, moving from her wings to nuzzle the tuft of fur on her chest before leaning forwards. Celestia climbed onto the mattress and sat down with her protoge between her front hooves, opening her wings to block out what little light there was; swaddling her sweetheart in a warm embrace of silken sheets and soft wings.
Twilight, for her part, merely relaxed into the sheets. She felt the mattress move under the hooves of her mentor, and as the light around her was blotted out, she went limp. As always, the darkness seemed to stifle that anxious voice at the back of her head. Celestia lowered her head into the cocoon, touching her nose to Twilight’s. She breathed out… and Twilight drew in. Twilight exhaled, and the breath was pulled from her into Celestia. The simple action was enough to expel all other thoughts from her head.
“Do you want the bindings?” Celestia asked in a whisper.
“Yes…” Twilight murmured, eyes screwed shut. She heard the gentle hiss of magic as her partner’s horn lit, and a moment later, a blindfold came to rest snugly on her eyelids.
Next came the bindings. Leatherette strips snaked around both set of hooves before pulling taut into a knot; then all four were tied together. A warm glow suffused her, and she felt herself become weightless, lifting off the bed as an intricate lattice of rope began to weave itself around her barrel. And with every loop – each new sensation of slight pressure around her entire body – Twilight felt another care drift away. Each restriction, each length pressing against her fur, brought with it another reassurance.
Eventually, she was returned to the mattress, and as Celestia’s spell ended, Twilight could only let gravity pose her on her side, barely even able to wriggle. Celestia lay down beside her, no doubt examining her work, and Twilight’s cheeks burned at the feeling of that gaze upon her; examining every inch of the body that could no longer squirm in embarrassment. Celestia could feast her eyes on every part of her… except–
“Ah, of course. Silly me,” Celestia muttered. The swish of magic filled the air again, and Twilight felt her tail behind lifted and straightened to receive a ring; a ring, she knew, that had on it a lead for connecting to her collar.
One swift motion later, it was done. The ring kept her tail from preserving even that modicum of decency; and at the thought, Twilight realised from how cool the air was between her legs that she was already wet.
Even now, months into their relationship, the thought that her mentor would see her like this would have been harrowing if she were even remotely able to control it. But here she was, presented like a slab of meat for her beloved teacher, who had remained all but silent. Twilight’s every muscle clenched against her bonds, until:
“Beautiful,” Celestia crooned. “My dear Twilight, you never cease to delight me.”
That was all it took. Twilight’s stifled breaths resolved themselves into a long, drawn-out mewl of need. At her cue, Celestia chuckled, and bent down to tend to… her wing?
“C–Celestia?”
“Yes, Twilight?”
“What are you doing?”
“Preening your wings, of course. Didn’t I tell you?”
Twilight groaned. She could hear the gleam in Celestia’s eyes and the smile on her face that bordered on smug. Of course she wouldn’t make it that easy… and, trussed up as she was, she could nothing but endure it.
“Now, now...” Celestia chided. “Have patience. We’ll have some fun in just a moment.”
And with that, she set to, dutifully moving each feather into place, cleaning away the odd fleck of foliage that had found its way between them, and occasionally resting her head against Twilight’s barrel, simply listening to her heartbeat and feeling her chest rise and fall.
Under any other situation, the feeling would have been utterly relaxing; but with the needy heat burning in her loins, Twilight couldn’t help but find it anything but maddening. Every second that passed served not to wind her any tighter or relieve the tension, but kept it at a constant simmer, for minutes at a time. She crooned, she moaned, she made every sound imaginable to coax Celestia into granting her release. Nevertheless, she persisted.
Suddenly, Celestia shifted again. Twilight fidgeted, no longer feeling the warmth of another body by her side, but the indents in the mattress hadn’t gone far. After a moment, she felt herself cradled again by magic turning her onto her back, and felt the tickle of her ethereal hair - that strange form that couldn’t make up its mind on whether it would float to the side or try to suffocate her when she tried to nuzzle her mentor. Realising Celestia’s face must be just beyond the blindfold, she drew in, expecting another session of shared breathing.
Instead, a front of musk hit her nostrils with such force as to induce vertigo.
“Now, my f–faithful student,” came the croon from the other side of the bed, “show me just how much you’ve learned.”
A well-conditioned thrill ran through Twilight at those words. Those once-pure words that were now so debauched, and said with such lascivity by the very figure who had given her the title so long ago. She opened her maw, presenting her tongue in expectation with a descending ‘aah’; and in response, a set of thighs descended onto her.
If the scent had made her dizzy before, this must have left her stunned for a few seconds. The fur that pressed into her face was already slick with arousal, and the vagina beyond it burned with an intense heat. A familiar thought slowly pierced the fog in Twilight’s mind: what must her mentor look like now? That was not the sound of the well-composed, dignified ruler of the land; it was husky, each note laden with base desire. That lust – those sounds of unfettered want – were all hers.
That thought in mind, she pressed her snout into those waiting folds, possessed of an animalistic need to bring her partner’s desire to its inevitable conclusion.
And learn she had. As soon as she had latched onto her target, she launched into a well-practised routine. She began with a set of light, vertical flicks of the tongue, but realising that the time for warm-ups had passed, she quickly upped the ante. She narrowed her tongue, and concluded each flick by circling around the clitoris. That in itself earned her a new soundtrack: with each motion came a gasp from the alicorn atop her; and each sound only bolstered her, only stoked the glee in her chest. Each flick became a weave, darting between every fold she could find, but never becoming erratic, always maintaining a steady tempo to each pass. Celestia could tie her up, tease her and deny her all she wanted, but Twilight had turned the act of pleasing her lover into a fine art.
She soon fell into a trance-like state; useless as it was to worry about whether she had been doing the same thing for too long, she resolved as ever to continue her ministrations until directed otherwise. Until then, it was all she could do to lick and relish in the chorus of joy that resulted. In that moment, it was her sole function, and – she noted with some amusement – that thought was somehow more liberating than if she had been in full control of the situation.
Twilight resolved not to think about how much had time had passed, but gradually Celestia’s moans increased in pitch, and soon her animalistic moans were replaced with desperate whispers of her name; when she managed to utter both syllables, that is. Throughout it all, the Twilight kept her motions constant and steady, never deviating from that well-honed, finely-tuned motion. Suddenly, Celestia’s breath caught in her throat, and her entire body clenched atop her, and Twilight felt a spurt of hot liquid land on her muzzle. An instant later, she let out what began as a howl, that shifted into a wail before resolving into a long, guttural sigh. Celestia staggered to the side so that she was clear of Twilight when her legs inevitably gave out, and she laid there for a few moments; all the while, Twilight could hear her heavy breathing gradually normalis, and feel the occasional twitch of her body as the afterglow passed through her.
Were she not tied up, her first thought would have been to snuggle into her lover’s hooves and pepper her with kisses; but she was still restrained, and without the task of pleasing her mentor to distract her, the burning need in her loins returned full force.
“Celestia–aa…” Twilight called, suddenly aware of how hoarse her voice sounded. Silence answered her for a few seconds, before she was swept up in a hug, and a familiar set of lips were pressed forcefully to her own. Twilight melted into the kiss with an appreciative moan, feeling the wave of oxytocin as she was again captured in a weave of legs and intricate bindings.
“You… wonderful… mare,” Celestia breathed between kisses. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”
Twilight didn’t have a chance to respond before a bottle was brought to her lips. She tilted her head back to accept its contents, feeling cool water fill her mouth and soothe her throat.
“Now,” Celestia purred, “I really think I’ve neglected your needs for quite long enough. What sort of host would I be–” and here her voice dropped to a whisper “–if I didn’t take care of my guest?”
Twilight shivered, arching her head back to expose her neck; an opening that Celestia readily exploited. She felt Celestia retake her position atop her, looming over her while delivering a barrage of pecks and kisses. The feeling of helplessness – of being some prize, maybe even prey – reasserted itself on her, and she answered with a shuddering moan.
She heard the sound of a box being slid out from underneath the bed; a box with whose contents she was very familiar. She had to keep her lips from twitching upwards in anticipation.
“Which do you want?” Celestia asked softly, her voice devoid of the power it had held before.
“Don’t ask,” Twilight whispered. “Just do it.”
Celestia gave a huff of satisfaction. “Very well.” And just like that, the thick layer of intent had returned. “Put your faith in me, Twilight.”
“I trust you,” Twilight murmured. “I love you…” Like a chant, she repeated those two simple phrases, unable to see which of the many toys her mentor had selected. Celestia took just a moment for theatrics – just one last moment of holding her on the edge – before placing her chosen instrument at Twilight’s lower lips. From the sensation of cool plastic alone, Twilight couldn’t tell whether she was about to feel one of the more modest of their collection, or whether she would be stretched to her breaking point.
She hoped it was the latter. Oh, how she hoped.
“Here it comes…” Celestia cooed; and with that, the coned head of the toy began to press its way inside Twilight’s vagina. She put a spin on the toy, making sure that every spot was lubricated from between her paramour’s legs. Its progress was slow, but unrelenting - and as the tapered shape entered, Twilight could feel her walls being pushed back further and further.
The sensation was all-consuming. A guard could have burst into their chambers in that moment, and Twilight would have been none the wiser, entirely consumed as she was by the sensation of the toy penetrating her. She caught herself clenching around it, unconsciously trying to milk the plastic rod for its nonexistent seed, and forced herself to relax before the pleasure became painful.
It was a battle of mind over matter. The more toy Celestia inserted, the stronger the urge was to squeeze down, like keeping oneself from swallowing a mouthful of water. But Twilight fought the urge – forced herself to keep still as more and more entered her – and soon enough, the toy was all the way in.
Twilight felt… complete. Waves of fullness and satisfaction surrounded her, like an imperfect chord that had finally resolved. And yet the cooling balm that the toy brought was fleeting; as it rested inside her, the flames of her desire threatened to flare up.
Celestia didn’t give it the chance. The instant Twilight had started to grow accustomed to the fullness, she withdrew the dildo almost all the way, so that just the tip still remain inside, before turning and sliding it back in more quickly. The motion drew a yelp of surprise from Twilight, but one that soon become a delighted call.
“Good girl,” Celestia crooned, and Twilight slumped again, all tension negated by those simple words. Celestia began a piston-like rhythm, seemingly inobservant of her partner’s involuntary spasms, or how her tongue began to loll from her mouth under the onslaught of such pleasure. She moved steadily, rhythmically, with collected passion - all a stark contrast from the mare beneath her.
For Twilight, it was almost too much. Almost. The slightest increase in tempo, or even a minute increase of force, would have had her crying in pain and invoking her safeword. But it wasn’t. Oh, it was ‘too much’ – too much for her rational mind to properly parse, so much that her mind was shorted out with every steady motion – but it was the pushing of her boundaries that so intoxicated her. She could not react, couldn't even properly process the sensations that flooded through her; all she could do was take it.
With the dildo moving seemingly autonomously, Celestia laid down next to Twilight and latched onto her with her legs, relishing the sensation of the chest at her hooves surging and falling. Absorbed as she was, Twilight barely registered the change, and continued giving a steady stream of whimpers and whispers of “yes”, “oh, please” and “I love you”s. In the back of her mind, Celestia marvelled at how such a simple action could produce such a passionate response. Proper context, she decided, and a willing participant.
Just a few minutes later, Twilight’s exclamations began the same ascent that Celestia’s had not long before. Before long, the stilted hiss of “I’m close” was added to her repertoire, and only grew more desperate as she was pushed ever nearer to that cliffedge.
“Let go, Twilight,” Celestia ordered, driving the dildo flush and firm into Twilight’s nethers. “Cum for me.”
And, almost from the words alone, she did. That sordid authority – the relish with which her princess gave such a depraved command – had never failed to send a shock through Twilight’s body, and now, it was all she needed for the dam to break. At the will of her instructor, Twilight came. Her orgasm pulsed through her, starting at her core, flooding her veins before suffusing into every square inch of her to create a pony-shaped mass of bliss. Eventually, the static in her mind faded, giving way to the post-coital lethargy that settled on her like a welcome blanket.
Almost subconsciously, she snuggled into the legs that were wrapped around her, earning her a chaste kiss on the back of the head from the mare holding her.
“That was…” she breathed, “oh my…”
“I know,” Celestia shushed her. “You don’t need to say anything. You were wonderful, Twilight.”
Twilight hummed in appreciation; but something was off. Maybe, in the back of her mind, she had become aware of how Celestia had deliberately stilled her breathing, even while her heart was still beating at an incensed pace.
“Come on,” Celestia prompted. “Let’s get these off.”
With a series of delicate, perfectly-placed motions, Twilight felt the bindings on her begin to loosen, like a mechanical puzzle being solved, until the harness had been removed, leaving the warm, sweat-matted fur underneath to bristle under the cool of the air. Finally, the blindfold was removed and floated away, leaving Twilight to take in the image of her mentor.
Her eyes caught Celestia’s immediately. Her princess’ face was one of absolute contentment; a gentle, but unmoderated – almost dopey – happiness, as she gazed at Twilight. She smiled back, a blush creeping onto her face, before she laid her head on Celestia’s shoulder, sighing contentedly.
She should have simply been able to drift off to sleep after that; but as she listened to the thumping of Celestia’s heart, the nondescript concern at the back of her head became harder and harder to ignore.
Eventually, she had to break the silence.
“Celestia?” she whispered, in case she had already drifted to sleep.
“Yes, Twilight?”
Twilight gulped. “Is… is something wrong?”
She couldn’t help but notice the half-second’s delay before Celestia responded: “What makes you ask that?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I can’t help the feeling there’s something troubling you.”
“I suppose. You’re right, though; I’m sure Thorax–”
“I don’t mean about that. I mean about us.”
“I can’t think of anything.”
That response came far too quickly.
“...It’s the blindfold, isn’t it.” Celestia’s silence was all the answer she needed. “I’m sorry; I’ll try–”
“No,” Celestia interjected, her voice raised slightly, “no, Twilight, you don’t need to change anything. I’m so happy just to be with you like this. I really am.”
The words did little to quell the gnawing unease in her mind, but Twilight knew her mentor better than to think them an outright lie.
“Don’t worry about it for now. Let’s get some sleep.”
And with that, the conversation came to a close. Twilight wrapped a leg around Celestia’s barrel, drawing her in close. Eventually, the tolls of the day overcame that little concern, and she gave herself to sleep.
⁂
Fey walked the path to her own chambers, feeling… exposed. While she was familiar with the layout of Canterlot Castle, the notion of walking its corridors undisguised set her nose twitching at her own nervous scent. As glad as she was for peace, it would take her a while before she thought of the place as anything other than the home of–
“Good evening.”
Fey noted that affixing oneself to the ceiling was probably not the correct response to such a greeting. A blue-coated alicorn looked on from below, her face a picture of sly amusement.
“Princess Luna!” Fey exclaimed. Then, for lack of a better response: “Um. Hi.”
“Hello, Lady Fey. Are the hammerbeams to your liking?”
“Ah, yes. Yes they are.” Fey hovered bashfully down to the ground. “What are you doing here, if I may ask?”
“You may. Do you know what my duties are, Lady Fey?”
Now that she was no longer lost in thought, Fey finally noticed the pungent smell that had filled the corridor: distrust. It was so thick, she had to keep her snout from wrinkling. She had to double-check, but sure enough, the princess’ expression was one of calm.
“Well, you craft the night sky… and you appear to ponies in dreams, yes?”
If Luna took any offense at the response, she didn’t show it. “Amongst other things, yes. I walk in dreams because it is there that we confront those demons that we cannot face in the harsh light of day. But sleep does not always come to a troubled soul. So, when they cannot come to me, I go to them.”
“You were waiting for me?”
“I thought that you might want to discuss one or two things. Am I wrong?”
Fey glanced up and down the corridor; but sure enough, they were alone. “...I suppose I am finding it difficult to break old habits,” she confessed, examining the carpet. “When I smell a secret, I want to uncover it.”
“A quality that, no doubt, has served you well.” Fey visibly flinched at the remark. Luna cocked an eyebrow. “You are uneasy at my saying so?”
“Yeah… I suppose so.” Fey responded; not quite a statement, not quite a question. “I enjoyed it; the game of cat and mouse. My wit to theirs. I just… I thought I wasn’t hurting anyone.”
“You were performing your duties to ensure the prosperity of your race,” Luna asserted.
“But now, it is a compulsion. Even when I try not to look for it, I find myself unearthing secrets. Just today, I…” Fey finally trailed off, gaze firmly set on the floor.
“You refer to the relationship between my sister and her former student?”
“...Yes,” she whispered.
“I am aware of it,” Luna said brusquely, “though neither of them have spoken of the matter. I do not think it would be helpful to force a confession from them; what matters is not that we know, but that they are ready for us to know. Then, and only then, they may lend us their ears. The truth is useless if one is not willing to hear it.”
Fey glanced up, bemused. “That’s it? It’s okay that I know about it?”
“It would be difficult for you to remain unaware, would it not? You have just said that it is your nature to uncover these secrets.”
“Yeah, and that was fine when I was–” Fey trailed off, huffing in frustration. “Well, before this.”
Luna cocked an eyebrow. “You seem to believe that, to keep your place in these times of peace, you must forsake your own abilities. That you must make yourself lame in order to make up for your past transgressions.”
Fey tore her gaze from the floor; sure enough, Luna’s lips were again curled in amusement. “That’s different. You were more than just an enemy.”
“On the contrary; for a very long time, I was less than that: a fable; a myth.”
“Well,” Fey spat, “you had someone in a high place to put in a good word for you.”
The air fell silent. In the instant after the words were out of her mouth, Fey was certain they would be her last.
But the response that came was as calm as ever. “As do you, Lady Fey. Several someones, in fact.” Luna turned so that she was looking directly at her companion. “You may well find that your craft has a place in the world of Equestria. After all, we could all do with having a few secrets uncovered.”
Fey fell silent. She probed the air, searched the princess’ eyes, but failed to find that crucial nugget that Luna seemed to be hinting at.
Luna broke her stare. “Do not concern yourself with the future for now. We will deal with each circumstance as it arises.” And with that, they had come to the end of the corridor. “Oh... there is one other matter, actually. I gather from Twilight’s report that you were active in Canterlot the night before the wedding of Shining Armour and Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.”
“That is correct, Princess.”
“And that you did not, in fact, participate in the attack on the citizens?”
“Yes.”
“Then.... I believe I know where you were at that time.”
Fey paused, unable to determine quite how she should react. “...Indeed.”
A moment passed, neither of them quite able to meet the other’s gaze. Eventually, a smile worked its way onto Luna’s face. “It is in the past, now. In any case, I am glad to meet the one who so… ably detained me.”
Not for the first time that evening, Fey found herself at a loss for words.
“Well, good night, then.” With a bow, the princess turned the corner and began the habitual walk to her office, thoughts lost in remembrance.
⁂
Canterlot was as quiet that night as Luna had seen it to be on any other night in the year she had known it. The streets were devoid of movement, sky lit with stoic, un-twinkling stars.
A gentle rap sounded at the door.
“Enter,” Luna called, not taking her eye off the telescope.
The door swung on its hinges and the sound of hoofsteps crossing the threshold reached her ears.
“Princess Luna?”
She turned at the sound of the voice, and her heart soared to see the purple unicorn standing before her.
“Twilight Sparkle!” Luna exclaimed softly. “Should you not be with your friends?”
Twilight scuffed a hoof against the floor nervously. “I... I wanted to see you again. There’s something I want to ask you.”
The princess stepped away from the balcony, extending a wing in invitation. “By all means. You know that my door is ever open to you.”
Twilight nodded appreciatively, catching Luna’s eyes for just a moment before darting elsewhere. “I was wondering if you’d… been in a relationship.”
Luna had to stop herself from laughing out loud. “At my age, Twilight Sparkle, it is unlikely that I have not.” Twilight laughed awkwardly, but Luna cut her off. “But I think you meant to ask me a different question; you wish to discuss such things.”
“Actually, I was going to ask you…” Twilight trailed off. Luna’s brow raised, her mouth forming an o-shape.
“You need not be so coy, my dear Twilight. It would be my pleasure to spend the night in such company.” Luna put a hoof to her chin. “I am surprised to hear that you would choose me, however,” she continued, her smile turning sly. “Your dreams indicate that a certain other princess holds your affections?”
The unicorn broke into a furious blush, taking a sudden interest in a nearby bookshelf. “Ah-heh… it’s not like that…”
“Verily? You are yet young, my friend. Just because your brother is soon to be wed does not require you to follow suit. And I do hope you are not pursuing an alicorn merely to keep match with him?”
“I–I would never!”
“I thought not,” Luna interrupted, throwing her yet another devious smile. “You must forgive me; I have learnt a thing or two about sibling rivalries over the years.” Twilight flinched; Luna shook her head. “Please - there is no need to slink around the subject. I believe I have made peace with it… thanks, in no small part, to you.”
The words surprised Luna even as she said them. Somehow, a sense of well-being had suffused the room in the short time they had been talking. She gave one last look at the telescope on her balcony before continuing.
“Only you can decide when to make the first step on the road towards love, Twilight Sparkle. But I believe I can show you a part of the way…”
“I–I’d like that.”
“Then so it shall be. I suspect Canterlot can survive our inattentiveness for an hour or two…”
⁂
“In hindsight,” Luna muttered to herself, “I should have realised something was amiss when she got out the weather vane…”
A Convenient Peace
by News Hound
Of all the things that unsettle me about the tenuous peace we have formed with the changelings, the greatest is this: it has happened too easily.
Their race was one of secrecy. Any written account of them from the last era was filed under ‘legend’, any sighting discredited as the talk of a fraud or a madmare. Even after the attack on Canterlot, they remained invisible to soldier and citizen alike, save for the unspoken whisper from stranger to stranger that asked “are you one of them?”. Fear turned to distrust, distrust turned to anger; the populace stirred itself into a frenzy while the changelings watched from afar.
Now, apropos of nothing, a new king has come forward, bearing a calm smile and speaking as though the last few years were no more than a dream. He sat with our diarchs as would any foreign dignitary, and a new relationship was forged with nary a drop of blood spilt. The exact details of the treaty are known only to the princesses, but we understand this much: there will be no reparations, but no war, either.
From the furtive glances I shared with those in the palace yesterday, the meaning is obvious: peace has become convenient to the changelings, and will continue for only as long as it so remains.
⁂
The newspaper sat on the breakfast table, stance unshifting under the gaze of the three alicorns above it. They each wore a different expression, having had the article read aloud; Twilight’s face was filled with dismay, Celestia’s with contempt (undermined somewhat by her continuing to chew her pancakes), and Luna’s with what could only be described as deadpan indifference.
Twilight was the first to speak. “How can they write this!? This is–”
“To be expected, I am afraid,” Celestia finished curtly.
“Indeed. I recall hearing similar things said upon my return,” Luna observed, jabbing ineffectually at her breakfast.
“You don’t seem all that upset, Luna.”
“I assure you, Twilight, I am utterly enraged,” Luna responded in a monotone that would have had Maud Pie stoically nodding in approval. “Incidentally, try not to look directly at the newspaper. My sister is attempting to set it aflame with her gaze alone.”
Twilight blinked. “Has that ever happened?”
“Once,” Luna stated plainly. “The sunglass was invented shortly afterwards.”
“It’s almost slander,” Celestia spat, “but there isn’t much we can do. No matter how well this visit goes, they’ll find a way to make it sound like we’re about to go to war.”
“Indeed. Kindly pass the horoscopes; I wish to sneer at them.”
Celestia complied, leaving Twilight to pour over the editorial. “And what do they mean about peace being ‘convenient’?”
“Think of it like a friendship problem,” Celestia suggested brightly. “A very, very big friendship problem...”
“Friendship between who? These ponies have never even met the changelings!”
“But of course. They read the papers, and learn that the changelings should be avoided, and that the only credible source of information is but a subscription away. How convenient for business,” Luna said, eyes fixed on her section. “Hmm. Apparently, a great discomfort will cause me to grow as a pony. Sister, are these berries underripe again?”
“Well, what if they did?” Celestia pressed, steadfastly ignoring her sister. “Is there something the changelings could do here in Canterlot?”
“You would have our esteemed guests caper for the amusement of the nobility? Hardly a way to start the relationship on an even hoofing.”
“I don’t hear you suggesting anything,” Celestia shot back.
Luna shrugged. “Simply wait it out. The more of these visits that happen without incident, the more this fearmongering will be seen for what it is.”
“There would have to be a reason for those visits, though. Twilight, you said Ms. Fey had plenty to teach you. Perhaps you could arrange some interviews over a period of time? It would be a good show of how peace could benefit us.”
“How utterly benevolent of you, sister. I’m sure Ms. Fey approves.”
“Well, we don’t have to put it to her like that…”
“Too late,” Luna sang.
“What?” Celestia’s eyes darted around. “She isn’t at the door, is she?”
“No,” Luna answered calmly. “I believe she is, in fact, the fruit selection.”
In response to which, the bowl at the center of the table burst into flames, spraying the room with an assortment of projectile citrus fruits. A second later, the changeling in question stood proud upon the table, mane dotted with pistachio shells and an unfortunate banana speared on her horn.
“Morning, girls!”
“Ms. Fey!” Celestia exclaimed with a start. Then: “Which part of you was I eating just now!?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know...” Fey answered with a wink. “But the answer’s ‘yes’, princess; I’d love to be your guinea pig. Now–” she leapt deftly from the table, shaking herself clean of organic shrapnel and extricating the banana “–what was this about our public image?”
Celestia looked on in disbelief for a half second before closing her mouth and composing herself. “It’s nothing too drastic, Ms. Fey. A small subset of journalists–”
“–Are leaning on hysteria and making it sound like you’re planning another attack.”
“Luna!”
“Well, track record and all that,” Fey said with a casual wave of the hoof. “Anyway, Twilight–” she turned to face the mare in question.
Twilight was sitting motionless, eyes wide open, pupils shrunk to pinpricks, one hoof raised and wings flared in preparation to flee. A strangled noise escaped from her throat.
“Has this–” Fey motioned towards her “–happened before?”
“She might be a moment. Can we take a message?” Luna offered.
“Oh, well, if she could meet us in the library when she’s… y’know?”
“We’ll let her know.”
“Ta. Bye, then!” And with that, she pranced to the door, and was gone.
Celestia stifled a cough. “Well. She seemed… lively.”
“A little more energy to be going on, I suspect,” Luna replied, her attention already returning to her pancakes. “I believe she spent the night at Ember’s.”
“...Ember’s?”
“Oh, like you don’t know.”
⁂
Twilight strode through the lavish corridors of Canterlot Castle on autopilot, eyes glaring at nothing in particular. The various staff who saw her pass took one look at that furrowed brow and knew exactly what it meant. Twilight Sparkle, foremost prodigy of her generation, was utterly consumed by some great mental exercise, and would see neither food nor rest until it was solved. Silently, each of them speculated what great mystery might have so enraptured their princess.
No matter what great question they might have come up with, however, they were all wrong. The great enigma that weighed on Twilight’s mind was, in fact, decorum.
She wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about Fey’s sudden appearance at breakfast. Anger, at the betrayal of her trust and their privacy? Outrage, at the salacious remark she made towards her princess? Indignation, at the fact that she was about to have that banana? She delved into each emotion, like she was trying on a hat, but none of them seemed to settle; as though a stray gust of wind might send them flying, and return her to the state of nonchalance that seemed so very inappropriate.
Those thoughts were enough to occupy her until she approached the north wing, where they were replaced with:
Since when does a library have a guard?
She approached the armoured stallion, who – true to form – stoically ignored her and kept staring forwards.
“Excuse me.”
The guard’s eyes darted to her, as though only just noticing her. He hesitated for a moment before giving a clipped:
“Yes, ma’am?”
That’s ‘yes, Princess’ to you, Twilight mentally chided; but she wasn’t about to demand he rephrase it. Not when there were more important matters at hoof. Such as:
“This library does not have a guard post.”
“Yes it does, ma’am,” the guard countered. “I am a guard, and I am guarding it.” Then, after a moment’s pause: “Ma’am.”
Twilight’s brow dropped like a fluid level. “What, exactly, are you guarding?”
“The books, ma’am.”
“The books,” Twilight echoed.
“You cannot place a price on knowledge, ma’am. I am charged with ensuring that no miscreant makes off with any of the books within.”
“The books in this library are on public loan.”
The guard considered this for a moment. “I am ensuring that the books do not escape. Ma’am.”
“Is there any risk of the books escaping?”
“A very great risk, ma’am. Twenty-hour watch, we have.”
“Guard watches are always stationed in pairs in the castle.”
The guard glanced to the spot at the other side of the door. It was empty. “Of course, ma’am.”
“Then where is your partner?”
“She’s at home with the kids, ma’am.”
Twilight resisted the urge to nurse the headache that she felt approaching. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the changeling delegation, would it?”
“No,” the guard asserted. “Ma’am,” he elaborated.
Twilight snapped. “I’ve had enough of this. What’s your name, guard?”
“Private Browsing, ma’am.”
“Private–” Twilight’s brow flatlined “–Browsing…”
“Yes, ma’am.” With a burst of flame, the guard was gone, and Fey stood in his place, a cocky grin on her face. “Right this way, your highness.”
Shaking her head clear, Twilight watched her disappear into the library. Bracing herself, she followed behind, ready to see chaos behind the door.
What she found was… perfectly orderly. Around the room were changelings of various sizes and shades of neon, some pouring over a book at their hooves, some scanning the shelves. Lounging on a beanbag were two foals (nymphs?), and next to them, buried in a much thicker tome, was King Thorax.
“Look lively, everyling!” Fey barked. “We have royalty!”
At her cue, each face peered up, and there soon followed a flurry of movement; some tried to readjust their posture into something more proper, others determinedly buried their noses back into their reading materials, hoping not to be seen.
In the back of her mind, Twilight was aware that Fey was trying to put her on the spot. But, though she hadn’t realised it, the changeling had crossed a line; one which Twilight would have no compunction in upholding.
“Fey,” she hissed, locking eyes with the changeling, “this is a library.” With a glare she made a zipping motion near her lips.
To her surprise, Fey actually shrunk back at the scolding. “Oh. Sorry,” she replied, voice much softer.
“We’re the only ones here, actually,” came a voice from the other side of the room.
“It’s the principle of the thing,” Twilight snapped. “Um, I mean– King Thorax!”
“Just Thorax, Twilight,” he corrected, chuckling. “Not that Fey will let me forget.”
“His Royal Highness decided he needed to read your favourite bedtime story,” Fey faux-whispered to Twilight. Sure enough, the tome in front of him bore the title of Myths and Monsters: A Comprehensive Guide to Equestrian Folklore that is Definitely Not Real.
“Didn’t you say you knew the pony who wrote this, Twilight?”
“Oh, um– yeah!” Twilight replied, smiling a little too much. “Maypole. We used to talk all the time.”
“Used to? Did something happen?”
“No, it’s just…” Twilight scuffed a hoof against the floor. “Over the years, he’s had to remove a few sections. Because of– well, me.”
Thorax flipped to the front of the book. “This is this year’s edition. What did he remove?”
“Oh, y’know…” Twilight rubbed the back of her head, intensely studying the floor. “Just a little section about Nightmare Moon. And Discord. And the Crystal Empire. And, uh… changelings.”
“Really...?” Fey purred.
“Most of it’s still really good!” Twilight hurriedly exclaimed. “There’s still the section about–” she stole a quick glance at the table of contents “–windigoes! They aren’t real!” Then, more softly: “Probably.”
“Well, as amusing as it is to watch you squirm – and might I add, it is – that’s not why I brought you here.”
“Oh?” Twilight looked to Thorax for clarification.
The king drew in a deep breath, centering himself. “I hear from Fey that our visit hasn’t been entirely welcome.”
“That’s–” Twilight deflated like a balloon. “It’s just one article…”
“One article voicing what, I can attest, a number of ponies are thinking,” Fey said. “And if his highness had been willing to let me scout ahead before we rolled right up to your doorstep, I might have been able to find that out without all this happening.”
“As it stands,” Thorax carried on, “we don’t know exactly how to proceed. If our gatherers are ousted for revealing themselves as changelings, we lose our supply of love, and…”
“And we starve,” Fey finished, the jollity gone from her voice. “Unless we know that we’ll be accepted in our own forms, we can’t come out of the shadows.”
“But unless you come out of the shadows, there’s no chance of being accepted,” Twilight realised. “It’s a catch twenty-two.”
“We can sustain ourselves for now – just – but it leaves us vulnerable. We need another to speak on our behalf.” And there, Thorax’s gaze came to rest squarely on Twilight.
“M-me?” Twilight squeaked. “I don’t know if I can represent an entire race…”
“Twilight, trust me–” Fey put a comforting hoof on Twilight’s withers, and locked her with a sympathetic gaze “–you can’t.”
“...What.”
“Legally. A princess cannot also be the official representative of a foreign power, after all.” Fey smirked. “That, and you tend to freeze up when someling steals your banana.”
Thorax blinked. “Uh, Fey? There are nymphs present.”
“So what are you suggesting?” Twilight pressed, trying to fight the blush coming to her cheeks.
“Just as Celestia said; we arrange a few meetings so that interaction between us is known, and in between them, you go about your business while showing the world how not-drained-of-love you are. You’ll be our representative, just not officially.”
“I thought you just said you didn’t think I could handle it.”
“That’s what we’ll be teaching you. Well, I say ‘we’–” Fey spared a glance at Thorax “–some of us could do with learning a little camera sense.” She turned back to Twilight. “So, what’cha say?”
It took her only a second to think about it. “Yes.”
Fey tilted her head. “Yes? That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Twilight asserted. “I want to help you and this seems like a good way to do it.”
The changeling sat on her haunches, the wind taken out of her wings. “Huh. Y’know, I had this whole thing ready for when you um’d and ah’d over it.” For an instant, Twilight could swear she saw a pout. “But we’ll skip past that! You need training, and we have the means.” She rapped her hoof against the floor, and the two nymphs sprang to her side.
Twilight arched an eyebrow. “What are you teaching me, exactly?”
“The art of counter-journalism,” Fey answered grandly. “You must be able to answer the demands of the press, no matter their questions.”
Twilight regarded the children. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Fey demanded.
“I assumed you’d be trying to make me freeze up again.”
“Well, if that’s what you want–”
“I’ll take the nymphs.”
“Very well. Bairn, Pruri; your questions, please.”
“You’ve prepped them, haven’t you?”
“Nope,” Fey answered brightly. “Journalists may be trained in the art of asking difficult questions, but children are its masters.”
She couldn’t exactly argue with that.
“Well, lil’lings,” Fey prompted, “have you anything to ask our princess?”
Twilight tensed, mentally compiling a list of every difficult question that they might conceive and ways that she might–
“What are windigoes?” asked one.
The list was promptly abandoned.
“Wh- windigoes?” Twilight echoed. “Oh, they’re mythical creatures that feed on hate and fear...” She launched into a summary of the Hearthswarming Pageant; ending with: “and that’s how Equestria was made!”
“Founded,” corrected someone. She quickly realised it was herself.
It was only now that she noticed Fey’s expression. The changeling was sat on her side, legs neatly folded as she listened. Her face was unnervingly calm, and when she noticed Twilight’s gaze, it turned into a knowing smile.
Just wait, it said.
“So, windigoes get stronger the more negative emotions there are around them?” Pruri summarised.
“Exactly!”
“Kind of like changelings?”
“...What?”
“Yeah, like how changelings feed on love and friendship, but the other way around. Hey, Miss Princess, do you think changelings could feed on fear as well?”
The colour drained from Twilight’s face, just as Fey’s gained a Cheshire grin. Thorax had– had turned into one of the books. Presumably the one that was sweating.
“Well,” she floundered, “we don’t actually know much about how changelings gather love…”
“Aww,” the nymphs moaned in unison. “But aren’t you supposed to be the really smart princess who knows everything?”
“Well, some things I–” she stopped mid-sentence. The nymphs waited with baited breath. Fey retained her smug sense of schadenfreude.
That is, until Twilight gained a grin of her own.
“You see, kids,” she began, “the relationship between ponies and changelings is still very new, and there’s a lot we don’t know about each other. But it would be a great benefit to Equestria if we could learn, and if someling were to volunteer…”
⁂
“I’ve gotta admit, I’m impressed,” Fey muttered as she was led down the corridor. “You turned the tables on that one pretty well.”
“It’s something Princess Celestia always does; instead of admitting something is in a poor state, emphasise how you’re working to improve it.” Twilight paused mid-stride. “Now that I say it out loud, that sounds…”
“Cynical?” Fey offered.
“Princess Celestia isn’t cynical!”
“Oh, I know. It’s just a pity every politician from here to Dodge Junction tries to act like her.” She shrugged at Twilight’s pointed glare. “What? Everyone in office tries to put a positive spin on what they’re doing. They just realise they’re talking out of their–”
“You’re saying she’s naive,” Twilight growled, unconsciously increasing her pace.
“I’m saying she just invited a squad of changelings into the heart of her kingdom without even being sure they had peaceful intent.”
“I don’t want to hear this.”
“Very well. Shall we talk about what experiments you’re going to perform on me once you have me in your dungeon?”
For some reason, this simple question necessitated Twilight to remove her face from the floor to which it had been planted.
“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” came her muffled response.
“Of course not. It’s a good excuse to get away from the nymphs, though.” Fey turned back to waggle her eyebrows at Twilight. “I imagine you have some questions that you don’t want kids hearing.”
“I hadn’t,” Twilight replied, picking herself up, “but I get the feeling they’ll be answered anyway.”
⁂
The Science Dungeon of Canterlot was not officially named as such; during Twilight’s years as Celestia’s student, the increasing likelihood that a spell or potion would blow up in her face required her to conduct part of her research from inside a secure location. Hence, a basement floor chiselled from the rock of Mount Canterlot had been repurposed to suit her needs. While the young student had insisted upon the aforementioned name, those who heard the tremors resulting from her experiments would simply refer to it as “The Twilight Zone”.
Fey drank the room in as she was led down the steps. On the treads of the stairs were echoes of years-old giddiness; on the risers, the scent of weary satisfaction, with the occasional splash of frustration. At the base, the walls were lined with workbenches bearing Bunsen burners, racks of laboratory glassware, and seismometers measuring… something.
“The problem is that we won’t have anything to go on; we could never figure out how to quantify ‘love’, much less detect it,” Twilight said, almost to herself. “Any ideas?”
“Nope. Like I said, we didn’t have any textbooks on the subject; we just learned by example.” Fey watched Twilight pace around the room. “So, if you don’t have a theory, where are you going to start?”
“Oh,” Twilight replied nonchalantly, “I’m going to measure everything.” It wasn’t until she realised that Fey hadn’t responded that she turned to see the changeling looking at her like she’d grown a second horn. “Hey, I’ve done it before.”
“I… see.”
“Right!” With that cry, the seismometer rattled into life, with Twilight stood to one side. “We just need to establish a control, and then we can get started.”
“Works for me. So, how are you going to produce love? Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I’ll ask you to transform into one of my friends in just a moment,” Twilight responded, ignoring the bait. “Okay, most of the readings have settled on an average. We can move on to see what happens when I approach you in your own form.” With that, she stepped into the center of the room. “So… feel anything?”
“Lots. Changelings can detect more than just love, you know.”
“Oh, of course. That’s going to make this difficult, then.”
“Not if we focus on a single emotion.” It took all of a glance at Fey for Twilight to realise.
“I… suppose we should talk about that. If we’re going to learn about you.” For a moment, she took an interest at the floor, before her head suddenly jerked back up. “Actually, wait. You’ve been acting weird all morning. Why?”
Fey grinned at the diversion, but didn’t object. “I wanted to see how you reacted when ponies tried to get under your skin. You’ve got a sharp tongue on you, when you think to use it.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Oh, nothing; if you never have to, say, hold your own in a hard interview.” Twilight’s shoulders slumped. Fey continued: “You need to hold your own when someone tries to back you into a corner, Twilight.”
“I know. It’s just… hard to get out of that mindset.”
“Keep your objectives in mind. Don’t let them get you stuck on a tangent. So, when a certain alicorn tries to keep me from talking about my… skills–” and Twilight couldn’t have missed the emphasis she placed on that word “–it’s just a case of sticking to that lovely little subject.”
Twilight tried – and failed – to keep her expression constant. Finally, she sighed. With a flare of her horn, the seismometer was silenced, and the room returned to its prior stillness.
“No point in measurements until I know what I’m looking for,” she reasoned aloud.
Fey nodded, gesturing with a hoof for Twilight to sit across from her. When she complied, the changeling tilted her head upwards, closed her eyes, and… remained sat as she was.
It was a minute before Twilight decided to break the silence. “So… you were going to tell me–”
“About how I gather love, yes.” Fey opened her eyes, her face a picture of still contentment. Twilight couldn’t help but think of how many times she had seen Celestia wear that smile, as though relishing the simple act of waiting for a pot of tea to brew. “I thought a practical demonstration might be in order, in part.”
“A practical?” Twilight echoed. “You’re not–”
“No. Not unless–” a glare answered the question before it could be finished. “Well, then. This usually takes a while, but since I don’t have to worry about being noticed, I can push a little harder.” She raised a hoof before Twilight could inquire further. “Just breathe deep. Tell me what you feel.”
Twilight emptied her lungs, and drew in a full breath. When nothing made itself evident, she repeated the action; her eyelids slowly closed as she settled into a calming, steady series of–
“Pheromones,” she realised aloud.
“Yes. It depends on the pony, but the effect is usually calming. Also dulls the mind, unless you fight it.”
“It’s… nice,” Twilight observed. Silently, she noted how easy it was to simply relax, even with the promise of fresh knowledge in front of her.
Fey hummed in affirmation. “Enjoy it. We have all the time in the world to go through this.”
And she did. Twilight allowed her mind to slow, basking in the rare pleasure of doing nothing. With no clock in earshot, there was no way of knowing if the seconds themselves hadn’t become languid. She breathed deep of the fluid calm; the indulgent stillness.
A soft voice came from above her. “So many ponies never give themselves the chance to relax. Their lives are a constant deluge of events, whether they be for the mare to set in motion, or to react to.”
There it was. Knowledge. That blissful, comforting tone that set her so at happiness. Twilight latched onto it, hanging on every word.
“So, when rest is imposed on a pony, her first response is to resist; to cling to the sense of busyness and productivity. But with persistence, she enters a state of which she is unfamiliar. The sense of peaceful slowness is disarming, and the uninitiated find it all too easy to simply… relax.”
The word hung in the air, as the speaker paused for emphasis. It lingered in Twilight’s mind, as she patiently awaited yet more of that melodic monologue.
“With relaxation comes suggestion; with careful placement and repetition, a word can be emphasised so that it carries greater meaning. When a mare is suggestible, she may be told to relax. And she will do so, because the word has become a suggestion.” A warm, downy wing settled over Twilight’s back in a familiar embrace. With a hum of contentment, she nuzzled into it.
“Context begins to fade. It becomes easy to focus on the now; to not question circumstances. With that in place, a sequence of suggestions can draw the listener to any desired thought or feeling. Each suggestion must simply be a short progression from the next, so that no one leap of logic is too great.
“A suggestion can be stated, or conveyed by instating a new context over the existing one. It is easier to draw the listener into a situation with which they are already familiar; by implementing certain characteristics of the situation, the listener will assume that the situation as a whole is in effect.”
“Simulacra theory…” Twilight murmured.
“Very good, my faithful student.”
Now, Fey may have been expecting one of any number of responses from Twilight at that phrase. A swell of pride at the praise, a whiff of nostalgia for an old epithet… but she was not expecting the alicorn to moan.
It immediately occurred to her how perilous it was to continue; how much trust, from so many influential ponies, stood to be lost if she continued to tread this sensitive path. She knew full well what her king would have wanted her to do…
And she also knew a source of great banter when she saw it.
The changeling breathed deep of the emotions that had sprung forth at the phrase. Sure enough, there was the oaky wine of a pony in subspace, free of concerns about the outside world, the day that had just been; anything but the thought of their master.
It was enough, certainly, for her to be going on.
“Twilight, I’d like you to open your eyes.”
She did so. Her gaze was glassy, even delirious, as she looked up at her mentor with unrestrained affection; not unlike a pet, awaiting the command of its owner.
Fey smiled down at her through a coat of white fur. “I’d like you to tell me what you were doing when you came in here, Twilight.”
Twilight blinked slowly as she tore her gaze away, glancing to a shadowed corner of the roof in the left of her vision. “I was coming down here with Fey,” she said at an even keel. “We were going to talk about…” She trailed off, eyes widening as realisation dawned. She paused for just a moment, before exclaiming:
“Oh.”
“Indeed,” Fey replied, still in the voice and visage of Celestia, “so you can see how one can be brought into a more suggestible state. Once there, they are unlikely to question the proposal of some company for the night.”
Twilight cringed. “Could you not talk about that while looking like… her? It feels weird.”
“Oh?” Fey asked in as innocent a tone as she could muster. “And why is that, my faithful student?”
For the second time that day, Twilight completely froze in place. Fey resisted the urge to blink.
“You know,” she finally replied. “Oh Celestia, you know.”
“I had my suspicions,” Fey said casually. “It was Luna who confirmed them for me.”
“She told you?”
She shrugged. “It’s funny how much ponies will divulge when they think you already know.”
Twilight frowned. “You tricked her.”
“And then she bade me pry as I pleased. Not sure why, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that you’re in love with a pony you can’t even bring yourself to hear talking dirty.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Twilight demanded.
“Everything. If you can’t bring yourself to accept that your lover has flaws and desires just as you do, then who are you in love with? Princess Celestia… or just Celestia?”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that. What makes you think you know more about her than I do?”
“Because you haven’t seen her like I have.” Fey’s smile turned predatory on Celestia’s face in a way Twilight had never seen before. It rooted her to the spot. “Tell me, Twilight, when you make love to your princess, are you ever… on top?”
“I– no, I’m not.”
“Always the subordinate. Always the student,” she stated. “Too afraid to even consider anything else.” Twilight made to reply, but she cut her off again. “Look at me, Twilight. If you’re not afraid, then look at your mentor.”
Twilight said nothing, but closed her mouth, meeting Fey with a hard gaze. At the unspoken signal, ‘Celestia’ sat couchant in front of Twilight, then lowered her head so that she was gazing up at her. Her eyes suddenly became half-lidded and glazed as they brimmed with–
Twilight should have had to tense every muscle in her neck to keep from looking away… but she couldn’t. The sight before her was utterly transfixing.
“Please, Twilight…” ‘Celestia’ crooned in a soft, longing tone, “fuck me.”
The room fell silent. Twilight sat, staring wide-eyed at the figure prostrated before her, the mewling plea echoing in her ears. It was only the wave of emerald fire that returned Fey to her own self that broke the spell.
“Hmm. Not the reaction I was expecting, I have to say,” she remarked, casually checking her hoof. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you rather enjoyed hearing that.”
“Ridiculous,” Twilight stated, all emotion filtered from her voice. “Like Celestia would ever act like that. Like she would ever be so… so–”
“Desperate? Oh, Twilight,” Fey chuckled.
“Let me tell you a story…”
