Guilty Pleasure

Chapters

Intrusions and Inceptions
Interuptions and Irritations
Ideas and Intervals
Initiatives and Immeasureables
Investigations and Interventions

Intrusions and Inceptions

Sleep, for me, is a fleeting thing. Like the touch of a butterfly; elusive even at the best of times. An inescapable side effect of my crossing horns with the first among nightmares. Tonight it feels especially ephemeral. So tantalisingly close, while remaining firmly beyond my reach. Perhaps the fact that I spent too long behind my desk trying to get just a little more correspondence taken care of is the cause. My head is abuzz with thoughts of the day and the decisions made therein, and just when it finally feels like I’m drifting off, my left ear perks up at an unfamiliar sound. A low sizzling that drifts into the room at the edge of my hearing.

It fades as quickly as it began, and for a moment, I wonder if it was just a figment of my imagination. Until another sound, a voice, makes me sit upright and pay attention. It seems to be a low mumbling with a questioning slant, like somepony who walked into a room but has forgotten what they came for.

Which means there’s somepony in my room.

With my sister’s moon in its full and brilliant display tonight, and the multitude of windows in my room, my surroundings are well illuminated. It should be next to impossible for them to hide. Yet enough shadows remain that I cannot immediately find whomever it is that is trespassing in my bedroom.

I discard the idea of lighting my horn after a brief consideration for the intentions of my unwelcome guest. Those that sneak into my room in the dead of night are rarely interested in stimulating conversation. Best to be prepared for the possibility that they are hostile. The element of surprise is a most powerful tool in combat.

That does not, however, preclude me from listening intently. Keen on the soft mumbling that hasn’t stopped, I slowly swivel my ears, trying to pinpoint the intruder.

“I’ll show’r. Stupid, nosey— Ugh! At least the Princess—”

With a high timbre and pitch, the voice is almost assuredly female. And whoever it is, she is looking for something. Rooting around in drawers, messing up the papers on my desk, slowly but surely making her way around the room.

A thief perhaps?

It seems an unlikely possibility. I do not keep anything of significant monetary value in my room aside from my regalia, and the things I do keep wouldn’t mean much to anypony else. Then again, the intruder, whoever it is, probably doesn’t know that.

“Princessh?”

I know that voice. I know that pony. ”Twilight?”

With a small surge of will my horn sparks, then glimmers, and finally begins to emit a soft yellow glow. It illuminates my faithful student, standing on the carpet that surrounds my bed. Her coat is being discolored slightly by the light of my horn, but that cutie mark is unmistakable.

She seems unfocused, perhaps even a little confused. Completely oblivious to the sudden light, she walks up to a dresser and picks it up with her magic, looks underneath it, and then puts it down while shaking her head. She shouldn’t be in here. Hay, she shouldn’t be capable of being in here. Aside from the seven basic defensive spells: Detection, Deflection, Deterrence, Deviation, Distortion, Drain, and Debilitation spells amped up to ridiculous levels, I also renewed the misdirection and magic dampening spells that should safeguard my room against all possible intruders just last week. Not every unicorn is capable of teleportation, and most those that are would feel like they had run into a brick wall upon trying to teleport into my room. The ones capable of bypassing that particular problem are dealt with by harsher means, and so my room has in all the years the castle has stood, never been intruded upon.

And yet, there she is.

She burps loudly, and follows it up with a soft giggle before turning back to the bed. “Princess, where arrrreeeee yoouuuuuu? Come out, come out, wherever you are~”

Before I even get a chance to say anything, the bed lifts into the air and I’m jostled about while Twilight noses around beneath me. A dainty sneeze lets me know that I need to have the maids thoroughly clean my room sometime soon.

One jarring impact later, I gather my bearings and find myself face to face with an intense looking Twilight. “Found you,” she says in a more focused, intense voice. “No more hiding, okay?”

I can’t help but notice that she looks different. She’s wearing makeup for one. Not the Twilight way of makeup (which means way too much of it, an event that happened once when she was twelve, and after that never again) but rather a remarkably professional job with an understated flair.

The red smile that Twilight had given herself all those years ago still makes it all but impossible for me be serious whenever I think about it. She looked more like an amateur clown than any of the catwalk mares she was trying to imitate.

This Twilight however, looks like she walked straight off of that catwalk. A soft pink lipstick that makes her lips look full, a touch of eyeshadow that makes her eyes and eyelashes stand out, and even a light dusting of a blush around her cheeks. She looks like a completely different mare. Not to mention her mane, which has been braided into an intricate five-layer strand of hair, tied off with a ribbon. All she’s lacking is one of Rarity’s dresses.

She turns that same unfocused look she had before on me and giggles before leaning in. Feeling her nose press against my own is something I wouldn’t have expected, but there was little else she could have done. “Booped ya,” she says with another giggle.

Further observations are cut off along with my train of thought when she grabs me by the neck and plants her lips on mine. Her lips are warm and soft, and taste like... strawberry and apple? The kiss ends just about as soon as it’s begun, but rather than pull back, Twilight pushes herself up against me and whispers, “You smell nice. We should sleep together.”

“We should what now?” I ask, half convinced that I have in fact fallen asleep and all of this is just some kind of bizarre dream.

She nods, then looks puzzled. “Did I get it wrong? Maybe...” she thinks for a moment. “Um... are you tired? Because you’ve been running—” she stops, shaking her head. “No... uhm... we should make out so that dating will be easier... no, that’s not it either.” She burps again, right in my face, but this time it’s not followed by a giggle.

Her breath smells sweet and heavy. Like different kinds of fruit with a heavy undertone of alcohol. “Twilight?”

The second kiss is not as much of a surprise as the first, and yet it is. Just like before my attention is drawn to the warmth of her lips, but that only lasts for a fraction of a second before something warm and slippery emerges. Her tongue pokes and probes at my lips and I can’t remember the last time anypony kissed me like this, or at all for that matter. Flabbergasted I acquiesce and let her part my lips to explore my mouth. The almost sickly sweet combination strawberry and... whatever she’s been drinking hitches a ride, and a half stifled groan reaches my ears.

One of us must be enjoying the kiss, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s me. It, too, however, ends after what seems like a fraction of a second. “You’re cute,” she says again when she pulls back. “And in case you didn’t know, you’re cute.”

And then she’s gone.

Morning finds me in court. Nothing unusual there. I like to be as transparent as possible with most of my governmental decisions. It helps the citizenry feel like they understand what’s going on, and like they have an actual say in what happens in their country which in turn leads to contentment. On the other less savory side of the coin, it also makes it much harder for anyone to twist my words and use them for their own gain, or cause trouble. What is unusual about today’s court is that I’m seriously considering calling the whole thing off. Keeping my eyes open is a challenge in and of itself, and it doesn’t exactly bode well for my focus.

It’s all the fault of that menace of a mare I call my faithful student. With those swaying hips that positioned themselves in between me and the chance at a good night’s rest, and that seductive smile that sat on her face all too naturally.

She isn’t supposed to look like that. The Twilight I’ve come to know over her years here at the castle is cute... and awkward... even adorable at times. She’s not sexy, nor aware enough of romantic interaction to wield the charms she possesses effectively.

I shake my head. Enough. I’m not going to let this affect me more than it already has. Unfortunately, even that small motion is enough to make it affect me even more.

“Uhm, Princess? What’s wrong with my new plan for the revitalisation of the downtown Manehattan shopping mall?” A boisterous stallion, currant red with a brown mane has the center of the court, standing beside a whiteboard that has scribbles all over it. Apparently he interpreted my head shake as being one of disapproval.

Fortunately, the sentence is just enough for me to piece together what he’s been talking about for the last half hour. Not that I wasn’t paying close attention. Or any at all for that matter.

Constructing a smile on my face and aiming it at him is as good as it’s going to get. “Nothing is wrong with the plan, Mayor Brickston,” I tell him, upgrading the smile to a more genuine one. He isn’t a bad stallion, although it would nice for him to think about his citizens as much as he does his city. “I’m merely concerned about the finances. Your plan calls for half and again as many bits as I would have calculated.” It’s a complete fabrication, obviously. I hardly ever have the chance to do any calculations. But it’s always a good way to remind project managers to be frugal, and sometimes it scares them into not skimming off the top.

He nods with a heavy sigh. “I understand, Princess. I’ll have them run the numbers again.” He bows and takes a step back while his assistant rolls away the whiteboard, effectively ending the appointment.

Even as he’s leaving, my mind is already wandering back to last night.

What if it was just a dream? Given the tricks Luna has taught me about her dream magic, it is very possible to create a dream for ponies with just about any possible subject. Although still subject to their whims and desires... Does that mean I desire Twilight? I almost shake my head again. Regardless, it is a possibility. The only other possibility is that someone is playing a prank on me.

It can’t be Discord. For all his power he lacks the finesse, and patience, to alter dreams in any realistic way. Nevermind something with this level of sophistication. The only one that could have created a dream like that would have to be Luna. Could she really be that upset about seeing Tibbles in pink for a fortnight?

“Princess?”

Torn from my musing once more, I find an entire room of ponies are staring at me. A young mint-green mare with a dirty yellow mane is standing in the middle looking at me nervously. Problem is, I have no idea what she has said.

Better to admit a small fault to draw attention away from the big one. I ‘fake’ a yawn, (not a difficult thing to do given last night. Stupid sexy student.) and smile at her apologetically. “Forgive me, I did not sleep well last night, could you repeat that last part?”

The mare briefly smiles back before gesturing to the pamphlet she’s holding. “I uhm...” she stammers. “As I was saying, I came here on behalf of the The Canterlot Museum of Arts faculty. The museum is severely underfunded and we’re starting to—”

I hold up a hoof to forestall the rest of the story, and luckily, the mare quickly quiets down. “The matter has already been brought to my attention.” Several times in fact. “I assure you that I’m considering the matter, but such things take time.”

She goes red in the face and looks around before bowing. “S-sorry, Princess. T-t-thank you for your time, Princess,” she stammers again before beating a hasty retreat.

The next up is a white stallion by the name of White Privilege. An enthusiastic young noblestallion that comes to court every other day, with the premise that public parks would make for the perfect aristocratic party venues. I suspect some of the other nobles put him up to it as a sort of hazing ritual. Everypony has the right to speak, however, so with a barely concealed sigh, I let him rattle off his familiar spiel.

“Your majesty,” He begins with his deep baritone voice. “I would like to begin by stating that it is in the best interest for all residents of Canterlot that I bring this up—”

Such a shame that he has no interest in music. The opera could use a voice like that.

“You smell nice. We should sleep together.”

A memory of an entirely more seductive voice sends a chill down my spine and a twitch down my wings. For all the ways she was decidedly different, that awkward phrasing was something completely Twilight. Well, completely drunk Twilight, lacking a good deal of its usual eloquence.

I can vividly recall the warmth of Twilight’s lips and the fruity taste when she kissed me. The alcoholic tang underneath a rich mixture of fruits with apples as the main ingredient. I find myself wondering what she would taste like if she hadn’t had any alcohol, and shift to try and physically distance myself from the thought.

I need to stop this right now before it becomes a real problem. I need solutions, and for that I need to know what could have happened. One, it was a dream prank by Luna in retaliation for Tibbles. In poor taste but merely a prank nonetheless. Two, Luna was trying to avert a nightmare and the dream was an unintended consequence. Three, there was no dream and Twilight Sparkle really was in my room last night.

My wings seem to like the last idea, and only due to practice can I pull them back in after flapping them twice, which as any pegasus knows, is needed if you are immobile for longer periods of time, and not in any way an embarrassment.

If it was a prank, and she thinks it was a success, Luna will rub it in my face sooner or later. If it wasn’t... well, it wouldn’t do to go around blaming my sister for something she didn’t do. Not to mention give away that something embarrassing happened. The last thing I want is her rooting around in my dreams again. So perhaps asking Twilight first is the best idea. Nothing specific, just a simple ‘how do you do’ letter.

It being a dream is more than likely. Twilight doesn’t drink. Or if she does, I’m certain it would be in moderation. It’s about time I wrote to her anyway.

“—nd that’s why I think the parks should be privatised and rented out. Not only would it boost the local economy, but I know several ponies that would be thrilled to rent out these places on a weekly basis,” White Privilege ends his sermon. I’ve missed it completely, but odds are it wasn’t all that much different than the last one, and the decision is easy enough. Especially now that I’ve filed the dream away under the appropriate header.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, and your continued interaction here in court, Mister White,” I tell him with a formal-type smile. “However, just like the last time you came knocking, the parks aren’t just public property. They are protected for having some of the oldest trees in the entire kingdom. Therefore, I am afraid I have to decline your request.” Another fabrication, although not as much as the first one. They truly are home to some of the oldest trees in the kingdom. However, that’s only if one discounts the trees in the Everfree Forest.

“But what about those parks that do not have trees like that?” He tries, eager to eke out even a minor victory.

With an overtly theatrical sigh I nod. “I will see about creating a natural venue that can be rented for festivities. However, it must be done with foresight and forethought, and we will not be converting any parks unless I deem it appropriate.”

His smile is radiant, and it almost looks like he’s glowing when he bows. “Thank you, Your Highness. You won’t regret it.” For a moment he seems to want to rush up to the dias to kiss my hooves before reconsidering and bowing again.

With his departure, the next court ruling begins. I’m still as tired as before, but with my mind clear, I no longer feel the need to call the whole thing off.

The lone, immutable fact about being in charge, is that workload can change on a dime. In the week that followed that particular court day, the museum staff went on strike. Normally, not such a problem, but they decided to do so on a particularly busy day which affected many a school that had the date planned in advance for months. It caused a lot of complaints. Had that been the only thing I think I would have been able to handle matters, but no, a pony in the Manehattan Accountings Office blew the whistle on what turned out to be a city wide fraud operation. And to top all of it off, White Privilege decided that my words meant he could take any public venue and use it as a designated noble’s party spot.

He picked the castle’s botanical gardens, and he’s very lucky I didn’t assign him as emissary to the Dragon Lord. The last one was devoured whole, and while he did survive, being a powerful enough unicorn to teleport, he was never the same afterwards.

After all of it was said and done, I’d... well, I hadn’t forgotten about the alicorn in my room, but I hadn’t had the chance to do anything with the knowledge. In truth, I had just about written it off as a freak occurrence that hadn’t really affected anything but my state of mind, and would never happen again.

That is, until I finally get some time for myself after everything settled down into something I would call ‘normal’ inasmuch as such a thing is possible in politics. I intended to spend it reading on the balcony until a weight settles on my back, and something cold and wet splashes across the back of my shoulder blades.

Suppressing the urge to panic and buck whatever just landed off me and into the next continent, I look back to find an alicorn sitting sitting in between my wings. An obviously-drunk purple alicorn, holding an empty glass in her magic, with a mane that glistens in the moonlight and eyes so deep I feel I could drown in them.

“Hey, beautiful,” she says with a lopsided smile. “You’re really warm... I mean... hot... I mean...” Her eyes roll in their sockets like she’s physically looking for the information in her brain. “You’re cute,” she finally concludes in an echo of what she told me two weeks ago.

I become aware that I’m staring at her with an open mouth only when she makes use of the situation and fills it with her tongue. Or at least, tries to. She overbalances while leaning forward and nearly faceplants on the floor next to me, flapping her wings with all her might to try and stay put. The second I open my mouth to ask if she’s okay, however, she lunges again, and the second one doesn’t miss.

Her lips feel every bit as soft and warm as I remember, and although the taste and smell are quite different, she’s very much the same mare.

What does she do to me? All of my senses seem to be tuned to what she’s doing and I only belatedly become aware of the fact that my wings are stiff as boards. A change that couldn’t have escaped her notice if it tried, almost rudely pushing her up and onto my back.

“Ohhhh, Princess...” I can hear her say with a coy giggle, followed by an adorable hiccup. The way she says it alone is enough to make me shudder. It is at once familiar in the way Twilight always uses my title with an awestruck sort of reverence, and different because of the low lusty pur woven into it. Next thing I know, those same lips are kissing their way up my neck before clamping down around my left ear and playfully tugging at it.

She growls, in the way a predator might. Mine! it says, without her actually saying anything, and I can’t help but shudder once more. My tail thrashing about behind us, in anticipation for something more.

“T-twilight?” I ask, trying to keep up some semblance of composure. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Bein’ faishful,” she replies with a mouth full of ear, as if it’s perfectly obvious.

Another thing that is at once familiar and different in an enticing sort of way. I just lie there, immobilized both by the weight on my back and my own indecision. I can’t recall anything in my long life that would have prepared me for what to do when a drunken alicorn teleports onto my back and begins biting at my mane. In fact, I would go so far as to say I might well be the very first pony in history to experience such a thing.

The next thing out of my mouth is a startled moan when Twilight runs her tongue along my horn from the base to the very tip. It leaves me feeling wet in more places than just my horn, and I almost collapse when she does it again.

She giggles. It sounds syrupy sweet and makes me melt. She then leans over and whispers in my ear: “Alwaysh wondered what that would taste like. Makesh m’ tongue tingle.” Okay, perhaps it’s more a drunken exclamation than a whisper, but it pushes me to action nonetheless. With a sudden heave I sit up, fully intending to put a stop to this before it goes too far.

Either Twilight was anticipating me doing something, or she’s simply acting without thinking, because the moment I get up, her hooves clamp around my barrel, and the moment I turn to her, she kisses me on the lips. Perhaps kissing is the wrong word for it. She all but smashes her lips against mine, and the hooves come up to encircle my neck making it impossible to pull away.

I kiss back after a brief hesitation, my mind racing with possibilities. First and foremost is the responsible thing, which is removing her from my back, getting her to lay down for the evening, and having what I hope will not prove to be too awkward of a conversation the following morning. But another part of me, the part making my wings strain at my sides and causing a stream of moisture to drip down my thigh, wants to throw caution to the wind and throw Twilight on the bed to make good on the clumsy overture of her last visit.

She pulls away, blinking at me owlishly and smiling that innocently alluring smile of hers. “Yerr lips taste good.” she says.

I close my mouth with a snap before the offer to taste test another set of lips actually escapes my mouth.

Somepony has to be the adult, Celestia! No matter what she does to you, you cannot simply let hormones to win over common sense!

“Sh—” I clear my throat, swallowing to try and make my vocal cords cooperate. “Shouldn’t you be writing me a letter, rather than molesting me?”

“Huhh?”

Even if it didn’t work, my question seems to have taken some of the wind out of her sails, and the looks she gives me is less on a cat might give a canary, and more one of confusion. “Remember?” I try again. “The letter about how intimate relationships are a lot like gravity... or something?”

I almost want to hoof myself in the face for the end of that sentence, but what can I say? She’s rattled me. She blinks. Once. Twice. Then her eyes go wide and she gasps aloud. “Oh my goshhh, yer right!” And before I know it, she’s gone once more, taking the pleasant weight and warmth on my back away. The night air feels cold by comparison and makes all the nuzzles and small kisses seem like distant dreams already.

Belatedly, I become aware of somepony knocking on my door rather insistently. “Enter!” I call out, wondering why anypony would bother me this late in the evening.

“Your nightcap, Princess, as requested,” one of my maids says as she steps into the room with a small tray containing a few light crackers and a shot glass filled with something strong.

Forcing my wings down before she can take notice, I force a smile onto my face and try and calm my laboured breathing as best I can. “Ah, yes. Please put it on my desk, After Hours.”

“As you wish, Princess,” she replies with a smile, putting it down before walking over to the balcony. I can only hope that she doesn’t notice any of the less than subtle signs Twilight’s all too brief tryst has left me with. “Is there anything else— Oh my, Princess, what happened?”

“What do you mean?” I ask only slightly panicky, clamping my tail down between my legs and looking back at where she’s stepped onto the balcony.

“It looks like you’ve spilled something,” she says, eyes trained on the more socially acceptable mess Twilight made, stepping closer, though keeping a respectful distance. “Would you like me to get you a towel?”

I shake my head, only now remembering that Twilight had a liquid with her when she arrived. “There’s really no need, After Hours. I was about to take a bath anyway.”

“As you wish, Princess. Maybe somepony to wash your hair and give you a massage before you go to bed then?”

The idea of Twilight being the one giving me a massage and being less than civil with her hooves flits through my head making my nether lips clench. Not trusting myself to keep my voice steady for a spoken reply I resign myself to shaking my head.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

You could tell me when my student turned into such a minx of a mare. Is the first thought out of the depths, but, after a moment to calm myself, what I actually say is more along the lines of, “No, After Hours. There’s nothing else. Thank you.”

She bows, which always makes me a little uneasy. “Thank you, Princess. Good night, Princess.”

“Good night.”

After that I am left alone. With only thoughts, sore wings, an aching wet backside... and yet without Twilight.

I hadn’t considered the possibility of finding myself disappointed at Twilight’s swift disappearance. After all, to be disappointed in her leaving I’d first have to consider it desirable that she stayed.

Maybe I did?

After she showed up the first time, all I could do was worry about the consequences it could have for our relationship, both privately as well as publicly; even going so far as to think it was a freaky dream, just my own mind playing tricks on me. At the very least I’d convinced myself that it would never happen again, and that I was okay with that.

But now I find myself wishing that I hadn’t lied to her. That I’d just let her do what she wanted and damn the consequences. Of course, with that wish also comes the necessity that After Hours had been tardy, or that I hadn’t asked for that nightcap in the first place. Most of all, though, I find myself wishing that it would happen again.

The time between Twilight’s sudden appearance and her equally sudden disappearance couldn’t have lasted longer than a minute. But three hours later, my left ear is still tingling from where she bit down on it, and I keep catching myself licking my lips.

Three hours, which means that I should have gone to sleep two and half hours ago. And yet here I am, behind my desk, holding a quill in my magic while blankly staring at a scroll. It has ‘To my dearest Twilight’ written as the address, but I worry that she’ll notice something is wrong if I use it just as easily as if I’d used the two discarded crumpled up papers in the wastebasket which respectively read: ‘To my little minx,’ and ‘To my sexy, sexy student,’

Crumpling it up into a ball and tossing it next to the pile that’s already beside my desk, I pull out a new scroll and begin anew.

Hello, my faithful student.

I’m writing you this letter

My Faithful student...

I’m writing this letter because I’m eager to learn what you would have done to me if I hadn’t lied to you...

Just thinking about what might have happened sends a shiver of excitement crawling down my spine. How very cruel that the naughtiest things are also the most enticing ones.

because I realised I haven’t written to you in far too long, and that I miss having you around the castle. The entire staff all send their regards and ask that you come visit again soon.

How is Spike doing? I’ve recently received a donation from the local printer’s guild (in the form of a comic book stack high enough to reach the library ceiling) which I could be persuaded to send his way if he’s interested. And I want to hear about you as well, of course. I’d love to hear about your latest studies, whether or not you’re having fun with your friends, or even if there’s something bothering you that you’d like to talk about. Remember, I will always make time to listen to you.

Your mentor and friend, Princess Celestia.

It’s more concise than any letter I would normally write, but every time I stop and think about going into more detail on any one aspect, I worry I could give away what I’m looking for. Perhaps even give her the wrong idea. It will have to do.

I roll up the scroll and reach for the official stamp while simultaneously picking up a candle for the wax. Dripping just enough wax on a letter without overdoing it has long since become an art, but at the last moment I decide to switch out the official stamp for my personal crest. Most ponies wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, but Twilight will. No sense in causing another mass hypnotisation disaster in Ponyville by making her think I’m expecting something from her after all.

Finally, I hold up the scroll in my magic, and go over it once more in my mind to make certain that I didn’t say too much, before summoning a gout of dragonflame and sending the scroll off towards Twilight. Perhaps now I can finally get some rest.

Even as I get up and make my way to bed, however, my mind already returns to the musings of what could have been. So mercifully absent while writing the letter, the visions my mind conjures up make the prospect of a good night’s rest seem slim at best.

After less than five minutes of trying to settle down and sleep, I get up and make my way towards the bathroom. If I’m going to be awake, I might as well do something productive and take a bath. If nothing else it will at least keep me from making a mess out of my bed with the low sensual warmth that still lingers.

The mirror in the bathroom provides me with a second reason to take a bath. Turns out that Twilight was drinking red wine, which now stains my coat. With a heavy sigh I shake my head and make for the bath, letting myself sink into the warm water that constantly flows through the room in an attempt at some manner of relaxation. A blemish like that is going to cause me no end of trouble if ponies see it. Speculation would run rampant, and everything from the benign ‘Celestia isn’t perfect’ to the ridiculous ‘the world it ending’ will be attributed to it. I wish ponies were smarter, but it’s happened too often for me to expect anything else.

As I sit and soak, my mind inevitably returns to Twilight. I know worrying won’t help, and is in fact only further exacerbating my problem, but logic rarely helps in matters of the heart. I am normally a calm and collected pony, one known for being something of a master strategist if I will allow myself that hubris, but Twilight has put me so off-balance I can barely think straight.

The worst of it is, I don’t know if she’s even doing this to me on purpose! I’ve had plenty of experiences with ponies who do things while drunk and have little to no memory of their actions thereafter. My poor ‘nephew’ has had to be rescued from a jail cell so many times that the guard no longer even bothers to ask me if he’s to be released when sober. I’ve simply added a regulation for it.

Twilight over-indulged, that much is certain, but it doesn’t tell me if she, bolstered by the liquid courage, acted on feelings she’s never told me about, or if it really is just the alcohol talking. She’s more intense, that much is also certain. A succubus in pony form, thinking only about doing naughty, pleasurable things to the object of her desires—

I lift a wing out of the water and fan myself with it. The hot water must be starting to get to me. I need something to help me cool off. Perhaps a nice long flight? Testing my wings in the bath, I realise that I haven’t stretched my wings in far too long. I don’t even really know if I’ll get off the ground, and if I do, stamina is going to be an issue. So a short flight then. It’ll be good exercise, help me cool off, and who knows? Maybe it will help me find a solution to this dilemma to boot.

Stains are the bane of my existence, easily number one on the list of worst things to ever exist. Following on from that, Twilight is, quite possibly, the worst mare in existence for putting me in this situation which earns her at least second place. Maybe a shared third right alongside whoever invented peanut butter. It’s sticky and viscous, and sticks to the inside of your mouth, and is all-round just icky.

“Please try not to move, your Highness. It’s difficult to get accurate measurements with you dancing on the spot like that.”

I level a barely concealed glare at the older stallion in front of me. It’s easy for him to say, he hasn’t had a sexy young mare on his mind for the last three days. A nubile young student, whose appearance from that first time I still cannot get out of my head, and which I inexplicably haven’t received a reply from yet. Three agonising days of being tormented by dreams of Twilight toying with me like a Bibliophile would a book; which is to say devouring me body and soul. Daydreams of her making me scream out her name from some place inside one of the Castle’s many towers. Not to mention the multiple fantasies where she’s tied me to my own bed with nothing but lace and is staining my coat with something other than mere wine...

Something warm and wet dribbles down my inner thigh and I resolutely wrap my tail around it. Of all the boneheaded things to do, I have to go and think about the worst (best?) possible scenario. I dearly hope he won’t notice, otherwise things could very awkward very quickly. I might have to do something drastic, and that never works out well. Inevitably, sneaksy imaginary Twilight crawls to the front of my mind to whisper to me about all the drastic measures she’s going to subject me to if she gets the chance.

That settles it. My own mind is second on the list of worst things ever. The actual Twilight will just have to make do with a shaky third place. Stupid sexy Twilight.

I’ve been standing on this infernal pedestal for over two hours now while Dropped Stitch circles around me taking entirely times too long to actually take my measurements. “I’ve told you before, Mister Stitch, my measurements are the same as they’ve always been,” I try again. “Those other dresses must have simply been washed too warmly.”

He nods dismissively. “Yes, Princess, I am aware of what you said. Were it that the entire wardrobe had shrunken by a size, I might have agreed with you. However, most, if not all of my dresses are made from the highest quality silks and do not, in fact, shrink in the wash.”

“W-well I...”

“Ignoring that fact for the time being,” he continues, ignoring or overlooking my rather embarrassing stammer. “You explained that it was mostly your hock and thigh region that felt cramped, which means that taking up to date and accurate measurements is sadly necessary.”

With a barely audible sigh I nod. “Yes, fine, just please, could you hurry up a tad? I have a long day ahead of me and I already have enough problems without a stain like this making ponies speculate.”

He grunts in the affirmative and I pointedly fix my gaze on the door flanked by two guards in front of me before slowly letting it drift left and right, taking in the colored cloths and designs strewn all over the clothier’s room. Anything to keep my mind away from Twilight and out of the gutter for a few moments.

Futile, as it turns out. The moment I finally feel I have a handle on my thoughts, and have definitely shown the scantily clad imaginary student the door, a small wisp of smoke announces the arrival of something I’ve been dreading and anticipating.

Hello, Princess.

Sorry this letter is a little late. Both Spike and I suffered from a massive hangover yesterday. I couldn’t even get my thoughts in order and he didn’t feel well enough to send anything. He’s doing quite well otherwise. He’s a little annoyed that I made him go to school, since he already knows most of what’s being taught, but I get the sense that he really likes talking to ponies his age. He would never say no to more comics, although I would ask that you send maybe one or two a week? Otherwise I’ll never get him do his homework.

I’m doing fine. Keeping up on my studies (That treatise you sent me on draconic dynasties is amazing) and doing things with my friends whenever we can find the time. Speaking of doing things, last week we all got together and held a slumber party at Rarity’s boutique.

Pinkie was so excited I think she might have actually given herself a headache, so she was a little less... present, than usual. She did bring the most delicious brownies I’ve ever tasted, and somehow managed to replicate one of Rarity’s dresses in cake! She even wore it like it was an actual dress. I swear I will never understand some of the things she does.

Dash and Fluttershy were sitting together laughing all night, and I think there is something going on between them, in the sense that I think they might be in love. Incidentally, if you see Cadence before I do, could you tell her that I’m blaming her for this?

As for myself, I spent most of my time talking with Rarity and Applejack about the nobility and what it would be like to be that dense. I even made a joke about them sharing a single brain, which was quite a good one if I do say so myself.

Oh, and because I asked, Rarity did makeup for me and Applejack (She did Pinkie later on. Oh my gosh that was amazing!) to show what is ‘in’ in Canterlotian fashion right now. I’ll ask her to do it again for me sometime so I can show you. I thought I looked pretty good.

At some point, we found out that Rainbow Dash had spiked the punch, which is where the hangover came from. Anyway, the sleepover was lots of fun for all of us, even if I had to stop a fight between Applejack and Rarity near the end. Using nobility as my subject to talk about with the two of them probably wasn’t the best of ideas.

How have you been? I heard that court is fuller than ever lately, and some ponies here in Ponyville are asking if I’m going to hold my own ‘Twilight Court’. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea. I wouldn’t even know where to hold it, much less if I’m comfortable with it, but I promised I’d give it some thought. Perhaps I could even share in the load of petitioners if I do?

In short, you need to rest more, Princess. (You promised last time I came to visit, remember?) And if you need me to take care of anything, be it a world-ending disaster or some grading for the SFGU, please tell me. I’d be happy to do it.

Please give my regards to the castle staff as well, especially Mead and Aegis, and tell them that I’ll be over once I get the chance.

Love, your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.

P.S.

Do you know a good way to bring up awkward conversation topics? I ask because... well... this isn’t the first time Rainbow’s pulled this trick, and the last time I woke up with my lipstick smeared after the slumber party, so I think somepony suggested kissing practice at some point, or maybe spin the bottle... I’ve read that those types of games always lead to embarrassing situation. Could you recommend a good line? Or thirty?

Actually, nevermind. I don’t think I need to know.

P.P.S.

I’m not actually supposed to tell anypony since she didn’t want me to, but I wanted to ask if you knew that Applejack’s family is actually of noble descent? I don’t know why, but I just can’t help but laugh everytime I picture her in court, arguing with the others over produce prices and the open market. (She does look very stylish with makeup on and dressed in the latest fashion though)

P.P.P.S. (would P.S. at the top of a letter stand for pre-script?)

Pinkie’s planning a weekend so-glad-we-all-survived-another-week party for next week. She asked all of us to bring somepony along, and then for that somepony to bring somepony along, and so on, and so on... and I thought of you. I know you’re probably too busy, but I wanted to let you know that ~~I’d~~ we’d love to see you if you do find the time.

I sigh heavily after lowering the letter. I hadn’t expected a reply immediately, but for each hour Twilight’s punctual letter became less so, I speculated. Those speculations ran from a sort of tense excitement in the fact that Twilight couldn’t find the right words to express how she feels about me, to fears that she might have magically smeared herself across several dimensional planes in her drunken stupor.

Apparently Twilight is none the wiser of her actions while drunk. What’s worse, after having read the letter thrice and then once more for good measure, I can’t find any clues that support a hidden attraction towards me.

It’s just a simple letter in Twilight’s normal style. Just like I asked for when I wrote to her without giving any details. Why is it, that I am so disappointed to find nothing? I mutter a soft curse under my breath begin reading through it a fifth time. Surely there has to be something here that’ll clue me into her state of mind?

Unless... what if the fact that she doesn’t say anything about the night before last is telling of her feelings? Does she remember what she did and is she ashamed of it? Is she terrified of what I’ll say or do when we next meet, especially since my letter to her wasn’t exactly expansive? I should write a reply right now, telling her that I’m not angry, but rather... aroused? No! No, that’s not gonna work. I need to gentle with her. Comforting. I need to let her know that she can tell me anything.

Then again, I could just be reading too much into things and it simply didn’t cross her mind because of how unimportant it is to her. But that would mean that she doesn’t care! Does that mean that she thinks what she’s doing to me is of no importance? Is she just toying with me? No. No, she’s probably just unaware of what she’s done... Unless she isn’t. What if knows exactly what she’s done, and delights in my confused responses? What if the Twilight I’ve known for so long is just a facade, and underneath she’s just a bored seductress that’s trying to rile up and catch innocent little mares in her naughty whiles?

A hoof softly pokes me in the flank. It derails my train of thought and sends it careening into a storage shed with ‘naughty fantasies’ written on the side. It also makes me jump about three feet into the air and let out a little squeak, convinced that Twilight’s chosen this very moment to ambush me again. Not the most dignified of responses I could have had.

Looking up I can see two concerned faces belonging to my guards, only one of which seems to have approached me. While they are the same guards that showed up this morning, my surroundings have changed rather drastically. Where is the cloth? Where are all the half-finished dresses? Where is Dropped Stitch? My head feels strangely empty, while the rest of me feels hot and definitely bothered. I straighten in an instant and take a deep breath, forcing any parts that might have had indecent ideas back into place while following the air with my hoof. I hold it for some time before letting it out slowly, using a physical motion to hopefully calm myself.

I’m being utterly ridiculous. I’m not some ‘innocent little mare’. And Twilight isn’t some con-mare who would lie about everything she is and does; it’s more like the opposite. While certainly not a saint, she’s a remarkable mare in more ways than one. I’ve praised her more than once for her character and her intelligence, and the thin trickle of something that’s definitely not sweat down somewhere no proper mare talks about in public attests that she appeals just as much physically.

And even though she is certainly at the top of my priorities list, there are other things to worry about as well. Such as finding out where I am and how I got here. The guards are a hardy group of ponies. Not only do they train every single day of their lives, they take on some of the most dangerous animals and criminals the world knows. It takes a lot to get them to look at something with even a mild concern, which doesn’t bode well for the fact that two of them are now definitely looking at me with outright worry.

I need to head this off at the pass. Absently rolling up the scroll and putting it away under one of my wings I focus my attention on the two ponies that seem to be about a feather’s length away from calling in reinforcements. “You two look troubled.”

One of them (the older looking Earth Pony who approached me to begin with) looks back at his partner for a moment before clearing his throat. “Ahem... Yes, Princess. You seem...”

“Yes?”

“...Bothered. Distressed even. I take it that letter was bad news?”

His concern is touching, but hardly appropriate. I must really have freaked them out with my reaction. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Is there anything we can do to help, Princess?” The other guard asks.

Yes there is. Please spy on my student. I want to learn all about her, from who she likes and talks to, to her naughtiest kinks.

“I don’t think so,” I tell them with a sigh. “Thank you for your concern, but I... this is a comparatively small problem. I’ll be fine.”

“Doesn’t seem small to me, Princess,” the first guard says, looking pointedly at the furrow in the ground. It isn’t new, obviously, but was created by me over the span over several hundred years of worrying and wear. Of course, the fact that I chose to go to the ‘problem’ room for something like this is explains my feelings rather succinctly doesn’t it?

“You’re right. Perhaps it isn’t,” I tell them, trying to force myself to go through my options. There are options that include them, certainly, but each one feels worse than the last. Hay, even tackling this by myself could easily turn out a disaster. “It is a rather sizable problem. Perhaps one of the biggest I have faced in my life. But that is exactly why I will need to deal with her personally.”

“Just point us in the right direction, Princess. We’ll take care of her once and for all,” the first guard says.

I can’t help but smile, albeit grimly. “Aggression and bravado aren’t the right solution here. Not just yet. And even if they were, I’m afraid she is so far beyond your abilities that there would be nothing left of you if you tried.” I shake my head and sigh. “I’ll deal with her when I figure out the best course of action. For now, all we can really do is wait.”

Looking up, the sun is much lower in the sky than I would have liked it to be. What was supposed to be an hour of downtime before diving into the mess that is my inbox, I’ve seemingly managed to obsess about Twilight’s letter for several hours. A soft groan escapes me when I think of the mountainous pile of letters and other correspondence that I’ll need to get through, which means it’s going to be another long night.

Perhaps I should take Twilight up on her offer.

Author's Note

Twilight circumvented the D’s

Interuptions and Irritations

Small sacrifices are what’s required to make sure interaction between ponies and politics continues to run smoothly. In the week following Twilight’s letter, I somehow manage to work down the pile on my desk to roughly half its original size. It means a few hours of sleep less every night, but that isn’t too big a sacrifice if it means a slightly tidier desk, and a load off my mind. I wasn't sleeping very well in the first place and I would almost go so far as to say that I’m proud of the amount of work I got done in such a relatively short span of time.

Of course, all that is undone the moment Morning Joy arrives.

“Mail~” She singsongs while throwing open the double doors to my room, and pulling in an entire cartload full of the hated white rectangles. I don’t recall when, where, or why I gave her carte blanche to enter my room without knocking first, and the amount of regret I feel now is immense.

Looking in her direction, all my fried mind can think to do is sigh. If I wasn’t so exhausted from trying to write a reply to the Zebra’s trade agreement in rhyme, my greeting would have been less than polite.

As it stands, it takes me entirely too much effort to form a reply at all. “Anything other than the usual complaints?”

“No complaints today,” she replied cheerily. “Well, maybe one or two, but it’s mostly well wishes and declarations of love.”

Declarations of love? I stop myself from showing too much interest. There’s no way that Twilight wrote that many love letters, is there? No, if she had they would have been spread out over time, not all delivered at once.

“How many are there?” I can hear myself asking.

“Eighteen hundred and seventy two,” she replies with that ever present smile. “That’s even more than last year.”

Only Hearts and Hooves Day could be responsible for such an influx of love letters. Either that, or someone’s been fooling around with love magic again. Morning Joy’s remark about it being more than last year makes that option less likely, however, and I can’t help but wonder if one of them is Twilight’s. Would she be bold enough to write me a love letter?

It is only after a minute or two of daydreaming about that very possibility that it dawns on me; I’m fantasising about Twilight being in love with me, without knowing if she even realises that she’s been in my room. I touch my lips with a hoof, which, thankfully, Morning Joy doesn’t realise the significance of.

“Would you like me to write the replies in your stead?” she asks, as she does every year. She’s a dedicated mare who keeps my correspondence manageable, albeit barely. I couldn’t be more appreciative for her hard work, and perhaps... perhaps it’s time she got some assistance. Now I remember. I gave her permission to come in without knocking after she read, and replied to, most every letter during a heart and hooves day some years ago during which I’d contracted a bad case of the feather flu.

“Please do. I’ve seen enough paper for one day.” I get up from my desk and stretch throwing a single lingering glance at my bed before smiling at Morning Joy and stepping through the open doors, into the hallway.

“Would you like to read them to you later?” she calls out after me.

I stop three steps outside my room and look over my shoulder. “Pick out the thirty you like best if you would. I’ll reply to those personally,” I tell her. It’s not a great deal of extra work, and it gives her the impression that I am as devoted to what ponies write to me as she is.

Small sacrifices.

Another three steps and a dozen castle guards fall in step behind me, six on either side. For the better part of the week, they’ve been following me wherever I go, just shy of accompanying into my own room (one of them tried, but after a firm scolding he wisely asked to be posted somewhere else). Something has them riled up, and I cannot for the life of me figure out what.

It is a small niggle. Swiftly forgotten in the face of a good breakfast, which is my goal as I make my way towards the kitchen.

Three meals and one, long, distraction filled, day later, I’m just about ready to lose my mind. There was no court today, for no other reason than my having to receive and entertain a dignitary from the Savanna Coalition; a leopard. A nice enough fellow as dignitaries go, but there’s something about him that makes my neck hairs stand on end every time I see him. And not just because he’s a shrewd diplomat and manages to carve out a more favorable position for his coalition whenever we renegotiate terms.

He’s not the reason for my mental exhaustion, however. Sure, it doesn’t help, but the constant question my mind keeps drifting back to about what a love-letter from Twilight would look like are what’s really bothering me. If the pattern holds, she’ll visit again tonight, and I cannot help but dread her arrival. Or is it anticipation?

My being awake far after setting the sun would suggest the former... I think. There are some things arranged throughout the room that suggest the latter, however. Carefully arranged candles (three of which are scented), a soft romantic melody from the third age that so moved me at the time I committed it to memory, fresh sheets in case she does want to sleep over... and a whole set of new spells to protect my room from intruders.

The last one doesn’t make a whole lot of sense at first glance. I thought about it a great deal, and changed my stance on it twice. First I was going to do it because I valued my privacy, two minutes after that I’d decided not to because I doubted that Twilight would have a whole lot of problems with them, and after that... well, if there’s one thing I know about Twilight, it’s that she relishes a challenge.

Arranging everything just so couldn’t have taken me more than an hour, but only now, sitting on my bed, does it occur to me that there’s little else to do but wait. A brief glance towards my desk reveals that that isn’t entirely true, but honestly, I don’t feel like working any more today.

So I wait.

Half an hour later, I’m wondering what she’ll say when she arrives. What she’ll do...

And wait.

An hour later my fantasies have taken a definitive turn for the sordid, and the clean sheet are no longer quite as fresh. I stave off doing anything about it, however.

And wait...

After two hours, I’m starting to worry that I made the new defenses on my room too powerful. What if she can’t get in? It’s tempting to take down the spells, if only to make it easier for her... but no. Twilight has shown that she can break through them easily, which means she just hasn’t arrived up yet.

All I can do... is wait.

I eye the desk again.

Come morning I wake up with a sore neck and my head on a squeaky clean desk. It seems I worked through my entire backlog of correspondence in an evening. Twilight never showed, which shouldn’t surprise me. Just because she showed up a week apart the last two times doesn’t mean it would happen again, and yet a part of me wants to curse the mare for being so inconsiderate.

I’m a busy mare, with a schedule that doesn’t allow for a whole lot of time for recreation, or even relaxation. Wasting an evening like this is something I can ill afford. It’s all Twilight’s fault. If she hadn’t bothered me in the first place, I wouldn’t be having any of these problems. But if she must, then she could at least have been considerate enough to not appear in my dreams. Or at the very least be more adorable than sexy. Both are admittedly distracting, but the latter is so much more of a lasting distraction.

It shouldn’t bother me this much. Relax, Celestia. Relax and go to breakfast. Belatedly I realise that there’s more than one reason I should be heading towards the Grand Dining Hall. Luna wanted to share a meal and talk before she went to bed today.

A good deal of stretching and a few muttered insults at Twilight’s address later, I’m in the hallway. She hounds my thoughts incessantly while I make my way to Luna. Why couldn’t she have just shown up? Why didn’t she?

An emotion I’ve not felt in some time suddenly burns in my heart. What if she’s shown up in somepony else’s bedroom? Did I just waste away a night that could have been spent productively sleeping while she drunkenly made out with Pinkie Pie? Or any of her other friends? Or even Luna?

I begin walking again. But even though I try to keep my pace steady, my hooves carry me forward ever faster, until I’m all but galloping down to the Dining Hall. She had better not have done anything to Twilight. With Twilight.

“Luna!” My booming voice precedes me, sending a wave of quiet rippling through the halls, conversations coming to a halt as ponies stare at me. At the grand table at the far end of the hall, Luna similarly looks up with a questioning glance. It shakes my good sense loose from wherever it had got hung up. Just what was I thinking shouting like that? I do very much want to know if Luna’s had an experience similar to mine, but I wouldn’t want to have her realise what’s been going on if she hasn’t. To say nothing to having Twilight’s midnight visits become public knowledge.

“Good morning, sister,” Luna says at a conversational level once I’ve made my way over to the table. “It has been ages since We heard thee use the Voice. What’s happened? Should We be concerned?”

Her words immediately set me thinking, or scheming, I guess. It’s a good question. What, aside from the truth, could have happened to make me yell for my sister like I did? A nightmare perhaps? Risky, given that Luna knows more than I about the other side of the veil, but I can’t think of anything else that would make sense quickly enough.

“A nightmare of a sort,” I say after a moment, sitting down opposite her at the table, and treating her to an exhausted smile. I find I don’t even need to fib the exhausted part.

As I feared, she merely arches an eyebrow. “Surely you jest? I would know if one tried to harass your dreams, sister.”

“I said ‘of a sort’,” I counter, relieved that I included little clarity in my response. “I suppose it was more of a strange dream. I don’t remember all of it, but you and I had been turned into fruit and were being swept up by a storm, and later down a river before landing in a circus troupe and learning how to safely be shot out of a canon.” It’s a load of drivel of the highest order, but it’s just nonsensical enough to be a dream somepony could have actually had at some point.

Luna seems to think it over while she chews on what looks like a snack cake. “Specifics vary from dreamer to dreamer, but such a dream usually relates to feeling trapped, or otherwise burdened by circumstance without any agency to change said circumstance.” From her expression, I can make out that she’s worried about me, even if she doesn’t say as much. “Is it something I did?” She asks after the snack cake has disappeared.

Normally I would tease her about becoming a little pudgy, but whether it’s the lack of sleep, or the genuine worry on her face, I decide not to. “No, Luna. It’s probably just my subconscious telling me I’m long overdue for a vacation.”

“But you feel like you cannot?”

Her question is an innocuous one at the surface, but I’ve known Luna long enough that the almost imperceptible knitting together of her eyebrows lets me know what she’s really asking. She’s afraid I don’t trust her. That I think things would fall apart in my absence. What she doesn’t realise is that even if she were the most capable ruler in Equestria, she still wouldn’t be able to direct all the goings on without a three year course on the intricacies of the political system, a six month primer on the basic psychology of modern day nobles, and a network of spies so complex that even I’m not sure which of them are really on our side.

“Not can not. Should not.” I reply, finally sitting down and pouring some cream into the coffee cup already ready for me. It’s the simplest thing on this table, an earthenware mug with simple black lettering that reads ‘Best Princess’. It was a gift from Twilight some number of years ago. Any attempts to serve me in anything but have, over the years, been met with stern looks from said filly. Or do I call her a mare now? Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that the circumstances I find myself in have rather clarified exactly what she meant with the sentiment.

I stare at the cup for a moment, pretending to be waiting for the drink to cool. Is there any point in questioning how long she might have felt this way? Should I have been watching for signs before she started coming to my bedchamber and acting on her desires? And more to the point, would I have done anything differently had I known?

“Sister, clearly more is going on if a simple dream troubles you so.” Luna says from the other side of the table. “Would you like me to take over a few of your court sessions to help ease your burdens?” She sneakily grabs another cake in her magic. She’s turning into a bigger pastry-lover than I am. “Even if it isn’t quite enough, perhaps it would allow you at least a day to relax.”

My ears perk up as she mentions court, as that tends to be the most exhausting and time-consuming part of my day. There is still the day to day paperwork, mostly involving rubber-stamping documents too important to delegate to lesser bureaucratic offices, but a day free from court would potentially help me get my frazzled mind back in order, since my nights have become less than restful.

“That... that sounds wonderful, Luna,” I tell her with no small amount of gratitude. I can hardly believe I was only just now entertaining thoughts of jealousy. Twilight’s infuriating actions, or inactions in this case, are really wearing on my nerves.

“Think nothing of it, sister. I’m happy to do my part,” she says, looking pleased. It warms my heart to see it. More than ever, I feel deeply just how much I missed her during her long absence.

We eat in silence for a time. Or rather, I eat. Even without knowing just how long it’s been since she started, Luna looks as though she has gorged herself on snacks and pastries, and looks a little ill. I can’t blame her, cuisine has improved by leaps and bounds over the ages, but perhaps I should warn her a little next time.

“Which days would you like me to free up?” she asks, subtly pushing her plate away.

Had I any ideas, I would tell her right away. Problem is, I don’t. I can’t honestly remember the last time I made an appointment that had nothing to do with ruling the country, let alone leave a day intentionally blank. Not to mention my schedule which is filled to the brim for at least half a year hence. “Let me think about it for a minute,” I tell her, before silently resuming my meal. The meal, and the accompanying fruit-shake that Mead insists I take, all pass without any brilliant insights. There is, however, one thing. Remembering Twilight’s letter, and the invitation contained therein, I lean forward a little, pushing my now-empty glass out of the way with a hoof. “How about today? I actually have an invitation which I was going to pass on, but if you—”

“Splendid!” Luna exclaims, knocking over a goblet with wine in her enthusiasm. “Go! Write to them that you have made the time, and then rest. We shall return to the throne room and consult with Our advisors on how best to tackle such a sudden change.” she smiles with a slightly sinister glint to her eyes, and I wonder if I have made the right decision after all. "Truthfully, we relish the challenge. The ponies you call nobles have become soft over the ages, We shall teach them to respect the crown once more."

I would much rather enjoy the rest of my breakfast first, but I am denied that option when Luna suddenly appears on my side of the table. One vigorous hug and a bright smile later, she pushes me all the way to the door and slams it shut behind us.

Never let it be said that I let others make decisions for me. While Twilight didn’t specify a time in her letter, I doubt the party starts any earlier than sundown; Ponyville still had a working economy last time I checked. Which leaves me with a little time before I absolutely have to reply. As for resting... well...

I am not some young foal that cannot function if I do not get enough sleep. I’m proud to say that I’ve gone without for weeks at a time when the need arose. Which is not to say that I can’t sleep. I’m not some pre-teen filly either, incapable of finding rest because her head is filled with thoughts and imagined scenarios of her crush. I am a Princess, dammit, and I’ll do as I please.

Which begs the question... what do I please?

A walk through the gardens. That sounds good. I think I’ll use the time to appreciate the beauty of the gardens. And the beauty that is good food, of course.

It’s as easy as telling one of the maids to bring food to the gardens, and then heading out to one of the gazebos on the grounds. The sweets arrive without delay, and only then does it dawn on me just how early in the day it is. The sun is still climbing to its zenith, and for the first time in far too long, I have a quiet moment to myself. Unclaimed by any sort of necessity or plan.

The spot I’ve chosen is in the middle of the flower-fields. Cordoned off by ivy carefully grown in the vertical space, the surroundings are flowers all around. There’s simple but beautiful ones, such as roses, tulips, and dendrobiums; a few that I don’t personally care for, but most appreciate like orchids; and a few more exotic plants like starshine bluebells, shimmering dahlias and a lone phoenix flower.

While the last one is certainly the more stunning and rare of the three —blooming and dying constantly within a two week cycle, thereby making it a hazard for all flowers around it— I’ve always enjoyed the idea of Starshine Bluebells the most. One of the legends that have sprung up around it speaks of a lone mare who created and planted them all over the world so that her lover (who was apparently some sort of space farer) would always be able to find his way back.

Walking around and looking over the plants as they intermingle, my attention is constantly drawn back to the soft, almost shy, vulnerable blue color that will nevertheless light up and draw attention to itself come night time. It does not actually have a bell-like shape as its name would suggest, but rather looks like a four pointed star similar to the ones up in the sky at night.

Knowing its true origins —a half baked magical experiment of Starswirl’s to create a sentient plant— doesn’t detract from the romanticism of the prevailing legend. I guess, deep down, I’m just a hopeless romantic.

With the hint of a smile I lean down to smell one of them. The soft scent is comparable to elderberries mixed with a sharp tinge of nightmare peppers, and a hint of vanilla. Starswirl might not have achieved his intended goal, but he certainly managed to create something beautiful and unique.

Beautiful and unique. Terms that I could just as easily apply to Twilight. She’s actually the main reason I know so much about these flowers. Normally I let the gardeners worry about the composition and arrangement of flowers in their respective gardens, were it not for Twilight asking me for this one specifically.

With a yawn (concealed behind a hoof out of reflex), I make my way back to the gazebo in the center. I can always walk around more later, right now I just want to enjoy the rest of the sweets. Laying back in the sunchair, my mind drifts back to when the flowers were first planted, with a young filly standing not three feet from me, glaring at them as if it would make them grow faster. She’s always been passionate about whatever she is studying, devouring the books to find the knowledge therein, metaphorically of course.

Which makes me wonder if I might just be her new favorite subject.

I can’t help but smile when Twilight shows up in my thoughts, dressed in a teacher's uniform while addressing a classroom that is filled by nopony but myself. She smiles and winks at me before dutifully going over a carefully prepared curriculum and quickly becomes apparent that she’s done her research in true Twilight fashion.

From my favorite food, musical taste, and secret fondness for stuffed animals, to my deepest darkest secret, she lays it bare for all to see with such accuracy it’s spooky.

And then I remember that it’s not really Twilight, but a figment of my imagination.

Maybe I really should get some rest.

“Princess! Princess!”

My eyes flutter open with great difficulty, and I follow it up with a yawn of epic proportions. “Not right now, Twilight,” I murmur in reply. As a response as it is a plea for her to let me sleep a little longer. I was having the loveliest dream...

I shake my head and blink at the pony in front of me. It’s a stallion. Twilight isn’t a stallion. At least, not last time I checked. A spell maybe? No... the stallion is a somewhat older gentlecolt, with a monocle and a truly impressive shock of blue hair that passes for mane styling these days. He does still manage to look distinguished, somehow. I’ll give him that, but he’s still not Twilight. “What..?” I ask him somewhat grumpily.

He coughs awkwardly. “Sorry to disturb you, Princess, but I... we need your help.”

Of course he does. Why is it that even on my day off, ponies still feel the need to wake me from a perfectly peaceful nap? “If you have any concerns, you can take them to my sister for today. I’m enjoying some much needed rest.”

He chuckles even more awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck with a hoof. “Actually, Princess, that’s exactly why I— we need your help.”

Suppressing my annoyance, I lean to the side a little to look over at the entrance where a whole slew of other ponies— diplomats by the looks of them are waiting, visibly worried and softly conversing amongst themselves.

I sigh heavily as I sit up. “Okay. I’m listening, but this had better be important.”

Wracking my sleep-deprived brain for his name, I seem to recall it being Deep Thoughts or something similarly pretentious. I’m fairly certain his parents were insufferable. In fact, I know they were. Luckily he isn’t like them, despite the name. “Quite important, Princess,” he replies.

Duty has come knocking once again, and I can’t help but get up and make my way towards the worried crowd, constructing a mask of composure all the while. It wouldn’t do to have ponies see me grumpy. “Why exactly did you not take this up with my sister, Deep Thoughts?” I ask him at length.

“Well...” he hesitates, looking horribly uncomfortable.

“She didn’t threaten to behead anypony, did she?” I ask, stretching out the muscles in my back and giving my wings a quick shake.

He shakes his head. “No, Princess. I can only wish it were so benign.”

That earns him an arched eyebrow. Beheading is benign? Did social norms change again while I wasn’t looking? I don’t get to ask that very question as we reach the group of diplomats, all of whom seem to sigh in relief. “Okay. One of you had better have coffee on hoof, and if not, fetch somepony who does.” I let out a deep sigh of my own and regard the stallion next to me with a stern frown. “Now.. what seems to be the problem? And how bad is it?”

In the corner of my eyes, several of the diplomats go back to whispering to one another, although it’s not a given that they’re talking about me now. Holding back another sigh, I screw up my mask a little more and reign in my annoyance.

Deep Thoughts, meanwhile, swallows uneasily. “There’s no pleasant way to put this, Princess. As of an hour ago, Equestria is at war.”

“At war?! How did that happen?”

He winces under my forceful tone and meekly continues. “Princess Luna’s... diplomatic, uhm...” He pauses and looks around, as though the words he needs are lying on the floor between us. “...discretion, leaves something to be desired.”

“So she started a war because of an ill placed comment?” Even my millennia of practice doesn’t prevent me from groaning out loud.

“Well...” he says, his ears wilting in dismay. “Technically, she started three of them.”

“And did any of you ponies educated in proper etiquette and diplomacy try to smoothe over the situation?”

Deep Thoughts looks down and when I look at the rest of them they quickly follow his example. “I am sorry, Princess. I have no excuse. I have never seen negotiations go so badly so quickly. I was too baffled to think, I suppose.”

Without another word, I set off towards the throne room, the gaggle of diplomats in tow. It seems like I won’t be having a whole lot of free time after all. The journey takes all of five minutes, and much like the scene when I arrive, is uneventful.

I would have expected to see ponies running about either in hysteria or, for those with a level head on their shoulders, trying to get a handle on the situation. What I find instead is a lot more chilling.

The throne room is packed with guardsmen, all standing at ceremony while Luna and three of my generals sit around a makeshift table that’s been set up in front of the throne. Luna looks up as soon as the soldiers step back to allow me to pass, and, to my horror, smiles brightly.

“‘Tia!” she shouts with no small hint of excitement. “I’m glad you are here. We could use your strategic prowess.”

My paces, which already became long when I set off from the gardens become longer still though the atmosphere in the room keeps me from graduating to a full on canter. “Luna, what in Equestria are you thinking?”

She beams at me and points to the map. “I’m glad you asked. First I was thinking we invest in our navy, since the Minotaurs have a fairly substantial fleet. We’ll need shipyards in Manehattan and Baltimare. I was hoping you could aid in the development of the recruitment posters and of course devise our overall strategy. We’ll need experienced crew to staff the warships to be sure, and the army seems... diminished from when we last saw it.”

“Luna—”

“The Saddle Arabians should not prove too great a threat, but their bits are plentiful, and I expect them to bankroll the war, possibly hire mercenaries to do their dirty work for them. The real threat will be the griffons, who I fear may prove most vicious. They’ve become a poor nation in the time since my banishment, and hungry people are often desperate.” She taps a hoof to her chin, moving a piece on the war map. “We’ll have to redouble our efforts to train new troops, possibly train the trainers ourselves, possibly reinstate conscription if things go sour. How did you manage to go without war for over six centuries anyway?”

My mouth opens, but I have no words with which to reply to her. A big part of me is horrified that she actually seems to be enjoying this, while the strategic bit is more impressed by how much of a solid war plan she’s come up with in less than half an hour. Could she have been thinking about this beforehoof?

“I was thinking that, as a show of force, we should behead the diplomats and send the heads to their leaders. Or.. or... What if we just march down there right now before they have a chance to mobilise their armies?”

Luna’s excitement is infectious despite the dire circumstances. For just a moment, I indulge myself and consider what my strategy would be if a three-front war were to happen. Only for a moment, though. Her suggestions point out something much more crucially important to the situation at hoof. “Behead them? The diplomats are still in Canterlot?”

She nods. “Locked up in the dungeons. They made enemies of the state out of themselves, so I thought it prudent to keep them under tight guard pending a decision as to what we do with them.”

“So they haven’t yet had a chance to report to their respective nations?”

“Of course not! I haven’t forgotten your ‘oh so important lessons about the eighth element’” she says with a giggle. “I remember them well. The element of surprise! What a lark that was.” Her mirth dies down a little and she treats me to what she probably thinks is a reassuring smile. “Rest assured, ‘Tia, they won’t know what hit them.”

With tremendous effort, I suppress the sigh building in my chest and let my eyes wander over the war map. “How exactly did this all come about? What did they say? What did you say?”

She seems surprised at my vehemence, but gamely begins to explain. “I merely complemented the Saddle Arabian Ambassador on her comely hips. Showing my appreciation for her beauty, in a sense.”

I can’t help but wince. “And then what happened?”

She shrugs. “She huffed a little, but she seemed the type that doth protest too much.”

“Luna, were you flirting with her?”

She looks at me with the eyes of a four year old who knows she’s been naughty. “No! I mean... she has a very nice figure! Okay so I may have indulged a little, but that’s hardly a reason for her to start shouting like she did.”

“What did she say?”

“I’m uncertain, my Saddle Arabian was never top notch, but I believe she was insulting me, and our nation.”

With a sigh I rub my left temple. Headache inducing problems are what she was supposed to solve, not cause. “And then what happened?”

Luna remains quiet, but one of the generals that I’d almost forgotten is also standing at the table speaks in her stead. He’s an old and grizzled guard named Immovable. I can never remember if it’s a nickname or not. He seems about as happy about the situation as I am. “The Minos diplomat tried to diffuse things, which seemed to be working out until the Princess told him to ‘get lost’.”

It takes a moment before I realise that I’m staring at him with an open mouth, and snap it shut before redirecting my glare to Luna. “Do... do you have any notion... Luna, he’s a minotaur! They pride themselves on a flawless sense of direction! Telling a Minotaur to ‘get lost’ is akin to insulting a pony's parents and wishing death upon them!”

Luna snorts and shrugs. “He was being loud and obnoxious, Tia.”

I press a hoof to my temple again, trying not to weep in frustration. I’m not even sure I want to know how she insulted the Griffon diplomat. “Right. So... you had them all put into cells?”

“Verily. With naught but bread and water.”

Anyone from the last hundred years of history, and of course those alive today, would look at Luna’s proud smile and think her mad. While I am not enthused by her actions, I do understand the intent that drives her. Back when Castle Everfree was still our seat of power, situations such as these wouldn’t have raised any eyebrows, much less voices. War was an all too common occurrence in past eras.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that I’m going to let her destroy in an afternoon what took me six hundred and thirteen years to build.

“Okay, first of all, if you really wanted to go to war, it would be much better to have troops stationed here, here, and here,” I say pointing at the map. “If you truly intended to launch a three-pronged war with a surprise attack, it would be vital to cut their supply lines. We would most definitely lose if they were allowed to supply their own war-machines.” I take a deep breath and put that ‘strategic prowess’ Luna talked about to use. There has to be a way to salvage all of this without causing any irreparable damage. “That being said, here’s what we’re actually going to do.”

Half a day filled with frustration later, I arrive at the outskirts of Ponyville. Despite her apparent excitement at the prospect of war, Luna did not actually mean to start one, nor three for that matter. It made convincing her to help me smooth things over with the ambassadors a simple task. Actually convincing the ambassadors themselves that everything had been a prank was a lot harder. Ironically, the sheer lengths Luna went to afterwards helped sell the idea to them. It might seem stupid, but if it works...

I’d all but forgotten about my intentions of going to the party Twilight had invited me to, right up to the point where Luna reminded me, and assured me that she could handle the rest. I wasn’t convinced until she promised she wouldn’t start any more wars without consulting me first, and that the castle would still be standing when I returned.

Only now, as I step in between the first houses on my way to Sugarcube Corner, do I realise that in all of the stress and the confusion, I never penned my RSVP to Twilight. A faux pas to be sure, but if anypony understands the hectic situations that surround me at times it would be her.

As it turns out, navigating Ponyville by night is significantly harder than I had anticipated, piling yet more delays on my arrival time. So when I do finally barge through the door of Sugarcube Corner, perhaps it isn’t too big a surprise that the only ponies left are Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy. One with a mop, the other with a feather duster up in the rafters, cleaning up the mess left behind happily and dutifully respectively.

“Princess!” Pinkie all but shouts, earning her a stern shushing from Fluttershy. “Sorry,” she calls back in a stage whisper before leaving the mop for what it is and bounding over to me. “I’m glad you decided to come!” She says, beaming a smile at me. “I’ve never seen you in a dress. It’s very pretty, but... um... The party’s already over, and so’s the after party.” She looks back at the mostly empty room with a sort-of satisfied smile. “Most ponies went home to sleep, but if you want, I could whip up something delicious and we could hold an after-after party!” Her voice climbs in volume as the idea excites her more and more, earning her another stern glare from Fluttershy.

The reasoning for Fluttershy’s strict behaviour becomes apparent only when she flutters down from the ceiling and trots over to a softly snoring purple lump on the couch. The couch itself is only mostly covered in smudges made by different party refreshments, but that doesn’t seem to bother Twilight who is snoozing away contently.

“Wily-Twily had a lot of fun,” Pinkie chirps up next to me. “So much fun that she partied herself to sleep. So we need to be super-duper quiet so we won’t wake her up.”

I let my gaze drift over to Twilight’s sleeping form and suppress a twinge of disappointment. Whatever the party was like, she really does seem to have enjoyed herself, and part of me is sorry to have missed it. Another part of me laments the good time and clarity I could have had. A good conversation could have been just what I needed to sort all of this out. “What is—” I bite my tongue, biting back a question on what Twilight is like during parties. She doesn’t look like the Twilight that came into my room unannounced. Is she like that with me alone? Or does she snog everypony she sees?

Skipping straight past the possible problems, my mind jumps to a scene in which Twilight is doing her adorably bad dance in between all kinds of ponies having fun. She looks so relaxed. So happy.

With a shake of my head I push the vision away, leaving two curious ponies looking at me. I clear my throat and smile. “How was the party?”

“It was just the greatest!” Pinkie shouts, bouncing up and down in place. “We bobbed for apples, played pin the tail on the pony, and even a little foam-bowling! There was dancing, and karaoke singing... apparently Applejack has a great singing voice, even if she doesn’t like to sing! And then there was...”

“It was... nice.” Fluttershy’s voice, though barely audible, cuts Pinkie’s waterfall of events off with a decisive finality.

Pinkie nods in agreement. “It was super-duper nice!” She jumps up and zips over to the kitchen door. “Would you like something to drink, Princess?” She asks, pulling out a veritable mountain of flasks and bottles. “I’ve got sarsaparilla, red grape wine, white crystal wine, yellow wine...” She does a double take at the bottle, makes a face, and somehow manages to pull it out of the pile and toss it away. “You probably shouldn’t drink that one. Then we have grape cider, melon cider, apple cider straight from Applejack’s farm, and just about every lemonade you can think of!”

“A nice glass of lemonade...” I begin before interrupting myself. It’s long since been a self imposed rule of mine not to drink anything alcoholic any time I am responsible for an entire country. And with all of the decision making behind me for today... “Actually, after the day I’ve had, I could really use a good glass of wine.”

“What happened?” Fluttershy asks, settling down besides me while Pinkie, to my surprise, pours the entire bottle into a big glass that is entirely too big. If those are the glasses they’re using for drinking, it’s no wonder Twilight has gotten drunk of late. Perhaps I should simply decline? No, it will be fine. Relax, Celestia. Just take a few sips and leave the rest.

“Carousel politics,” I reply with a half smile, which drops when I see their questioning glances at one another. “An unintended insult from one diplomat to another led to a lot of screaming and more insults. It’s like a never ending cycle.” I make a circling motion with my hoof. “Like a Carousel.”

“Ooo! Rarity would like those kinds of politics!” Pinkie exclaims with a big grin. Fluttershy stifles a giggle behind a hoof, and I have to admit I’m not far off laughing myself.

Ideas and Intervals

If trying to get to sleep is like trying to feel the touch of a butterfly, then waking up is clawing your way out of a quicksand pit. At least, that’s generally how it is. For so long I’ve dragged myself out of bed and ignored the tiredness throughout the day that it’s... odd not to feel that deep, heavy, pressure in the depths of my gut. Rather, I feel invigorated, maybe even a little giddy from the moment I open my eyes.

Part of that is definitely to do with the first thing I see upon doing so: Twilight is still ever so adorable when she sleeps. Then I remember my talk with Luna, and her assurances that Twilight might very well be just as in love with me as I have become infatuated by her. That thought is cause for more giddiness, and I all but skip out of bed, but not before placing a delightfully naughty kiss on her slightly parted lips.

The second thing that catches my eyes today, is the odd-looking, but well decorated bowl that sits on my writing desk. Only... this isn’t my writing desk. Smacking my lips and looking around in earnest I find myself in a bed different from my own, set in a room that isn’t my own. A bed that holds naught but sordid memories. Wooden floors, check. Birds sitting on branched outside, check. Sun high in the sky... I don’t remember putting that there.

My gaze drifts back to the bowl. Its contents, whatever they may be, are obscured by some sort of tinfoil which in turn is held in place by red string, tied neatly into a bow. In front of the bowl sits a scroll, prominently adorned with Luna’s seal. Together it all looks somewhat festive, and I’m torn between letting my curiosity run free, or crawling back into bed with Twilight, no matter how much consternation it might cause in court later on.

As somepony very wise once told me: “Why not both?” Granted, she was a five-year old filly at the time, but the idea is what counts. Floating over the scroll, while stepping back onto the bed, I nestle myself around Twilight, idly playing with a lock of her mane, wondering how much sleep one mare could possibly need. The scrolls follows after. A distant second.

Dear sister mine,

There has been a coup. If you are reading this letter, you have suffered a sound and devastating defeat at my hooves. With this coup, I have put an end to your eternal scheming, and your eternal schemes (The very evil ones). The nobility has been made aware of what transpired, and I have taken the opportunity to cement my own base of power, as well as extending that holiday we discussed to last for an entire week.

As such, I hereby decree that, first and foremost, you are forbidden from setting hoof in Canterlot for a fortnight. And secondly, that you will not be allowed to return at all without eloping with a mare most kind and clever, with a coat rich as the Twilit skies, and... ~~and I ran out of ideas.~~ And a wisdom that rivals your own! (In a way)(Also, HA!)

P.S.
Worry not, I will ensure that the castle (and the town) are still standing (though mayhap not in pristine condition) when you return.

Enjoy your very own holiday, sis.

Eternal love, Lunetta.

The juxtaposition of my sister’s floral script with the actual content brings a smile to my face. “Thank you, Little Moon,” I whisper into the empty room before me, swallowing the frog in my throat. If even half of what she’s described in the letter is true, I should be cross with her. Social fallout of the kind she’s describing would take years. Two weeks of vacation, however, more than makes up for whatever stunt she’s pulled. And even if Canterlot turns out to be a disaster area when I return, her heart is in the right place. It always is, and I could not be more thankful.

“Princess?”

That sleep laden voice would have to be Twilight. Oh how different she sounds when compared to when I’m the sleepy one. “Good morning, Twilight.” I smile down at her and shift a little, giving her the room to sit upright.

“What...” she looks around her room, ears flicking back and fro. “What are you doing here?”

“Explaining that is going to take some doing. I suppose it all—”

“Did something happen? Why are you in my bed? Where’s Spike? Is everything okay?”

Grown mare though she may be, there are several ways in which Twilight hasn’t changed in the slightest from the way she was as a filly. Curiosity (or should I call it worry?) being one of them.

“Everything is okay, Twilight. At least... last I checked.” I can’t help but self-consciously rub the back of my neck with a hoof. Strange how that always tingles whenever something embarrassing has to be admitted to. “Although I may technically no longer be a Princess. For the time being anyway.”

“What?” Twilight asks, struggling with the sheets to get up. “How?”

“It’s a long story. Suffice it to say that I’m on a sabbatical of sorts, and also I love you.” I snap my mouth shut with an audible clunk. That, Celestia, was not your most eloquent confession. Nor the most tactful one. Although it was, perhaps, the most concise one. Ever. So... points for that at least?

Twilight’s eyes grow wide while she mouths the word sabbatical, then narrow into an accusatory frown. Her reaction makes me feel even worse about having blurted out what I did, the way I did. As soon as she is free of the tangle of her sheets, however, she hops out of bed and walks, stiff legged, to the window. Perhaps her anger isn’t directed at me? “Luna!” She bellows, in an impressive display of the Royal Canterlot voice. “No more! Stop this! RIGHT! NOW!”

“Twilight?” I ask her, as gently as I can. “Is everything—”

She turns back to me, looking everywhere but at my face. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the idea, but I’m not happy with just dreams. I got the message last time, and I know I promised I’d tell her... something. Which I will. Eventually. At this point you’re just being cruel.”

I don’t consider myself a genius in any respect. Even my lauded eternal patience is more a product of training (much of it unwilling) than it is something I have a natural proclivity for. It doesn’t, however, take a genius to piece together what Luna has done. It might just be the reason she was so absolutely sure of Twilight’s feelings. I again need to remind myself that her heart is in the right place to not get incredibly angry with my sister. Still, I shouldn’t dismiss what Twilight is saying out of hoof. Allowing for a moment of reflection, I try to imagine a scenario in which this was a dream. But contrary to what Twilight seems to believe, I quickly come to the conclusion that I cannot be. Luna might make plenty of mistakes, but she is never intentionally cruel. At least... almost never.

“Twilight, this isn’t a dream.” My reply is ignored, or perhaps does not even arrive as Twilight’s front half seems to have... disappeared? That’s not entirely the right word for it. Just the most accurate I can think of. While her shapely behind and half of her wings are still standing near the window, unaffected by gravity as though levitating, her front half is barely... visible? present? corporeal? and seems to be constantly distorting and shifting in ways that batter against the boxes of reality in my mind, and tie my stomach into knots.

The distortions, though frightening, graciously only last for a minute or so after which Twilight returns to normal, if with a little more awe in her eyes and voice as she says: “This isn’t a dream...”

“How did you figure that out?”

“Four dimensional transposition,” she replies absently, staring into the space her door would be with empty eyes. “The reason dreams feel so much longer and more vivid while you’re in them is because they are hooked into the fourth dimension at a strange angle, but if this is one I can’t find any of the markers that normally indicate—” She stops abruptly and her eyes focus on me. “Princess?”

“Just Celestia now, I believe,” I tell her with a giggle more light hearted than than I had intended. What can I say? She simply never ceases to amaze.

She angrily shakes her head. “Princess, I just woke up . Why are you in my bed, and why are you cracking jokes like nothing’s different? I can’t even remember the last time you made a joke!”

I screw up my face into a mostly neutral expression, pushing the happiness down for now. “I don’t believe I’ve said anything worthy of laughter, Twilight.”

“Then... Then you’re trying to provoke a reaction? That’s really not needed, Princess.”

Part of me is already off formulating a plan on how to guide this conversation into something resembling a lesson that will make Twilight understand how silly she’s being. The rest, however, is more concerned with the barely audible crack in her voice, or her eyes which only barely escape classification as ‘leaky’. Forget the lesson. This needs to end.

“Why would it be hard to believe that I’m being sincere?”

She bites her lip, takes a deep breath, and rubs her face with a leg. “Because... Because happy endings don’t just happen in reality. I once asked Rarity how to go about it, and while she had a lot of useful advice, she also told me that my chances were probably pretty slim, so I calculated the odds of you— of ‘the princess’ actually answering with any sort of positive inflection.” She breathes deeply through the nose once more and sniffs once before forcing herself to look straight into my eyes. “The odds were astronomical. And you— ‘the princess’ actually being the one to confess to me? Several dozen more layers of impossible. Like... Twenty-seven digits behind the comma impossible.” She points with a hoof which I initially believe is aimed at me until she continues. “That’s why I began reading romance novels. There, it’s not only possible that the best outcome is the one that ends up happening. It’s likely. And then reading about others being happy, even if they were fictional characters, started to hurt so...”

“And then you started drinking?” I ask her despite it being rhetorical.

“So what if I did? I’m a grown mare now. Don’t judge me,” she says, giving me a look that has more hurt in it than I think I’ve ever seen from her. The first time I sent her to Ponyville included. “It wasn’t intentional. Not the first time anyway. Rainbow had just spiked the punch as a prank. Apparently she’s done it before, but I didn’t know about it. I was just talking to Rarity about her latest ‘beau’ and so I started drinking a lot more since... Y’know. And then I found out how...nice... it can be to numb my mind for a while. I always have nice dreams afterwards, so I just...sometimes. In the evening, and maybe once or twice in the morning. When I know I don’t have to be responsible for anything the next few hours...”

She trails off there and stares at the floor. Her tale is a confession of sorts. Even though she is a grown mare by her own say-so, her confession is more one of a filly caught doing something she isn’t supposed to, rather than a declaration of love. And yet, it is that as well if one reads between each and every line. Without a doubt. It still leaves up in the air if she knows what she’s been doing, but that can wait. For once, I’m in no rush. “You said something about Luna?” I ask, pulling her away from the pit of shame she’s hard at work digging for herself. “What does she have to do with all of this?” I have a reasonably sound idea, of course, but deduction doesn’t always lead to the truth. It’s always best to get the story straight from the pony’s mouth.

“She spied on my dreams,” Twilight said, looking away. “I mean, I guess she sort of has to if she’s going to stop nightmares?” She shakes her head and continues. “Anyway, I’m sure she meant well, but...” A deep breath. “I started having dreams about you. Vivid, sensual dreams. I... You probably can guess—”

“You mean you had lewd dreams about a mare you were attracted to that involved living out a few fantasies?” I respond lightly. “Oh, Twilight, surely you know that that’s perfectly normal for a mare of your age.”

She looks at me as though I’ve just thrown out a whole shelf’s worth of books. The only thing off about her disapproval is the faintest hint of a blush around her cheeks which makes her that much more adorable (and appealing). “I know that.” Reaching up, she taps her horn with a hoof. “Fourth Dimensional magic, remember? These weren’t just normal dreams. I... they were different scenarios in which I seduced you, or... you me. It was nice... at first. But at some point, I realised it was just a dream and I didn’t— don’t want to live in a dream.”

“And you can tell that this isn’t a dream, yes?” I press her, gently, but with insistence.

“I don’t think that it is...” she replies with an uncertain frown. It last for all of three seconds before she shakes her head and goes back to staring out the window. “But it has to be. Luna’s obviously found a way to fool my detection. The alternative is...”

“Impossible? So this can’t be real?” I ask, indicating my surroundings, even though she won’t be able to tell.

“The chances of this happening for real is one in...” she raises her head a little, and even though I can’t see it, I picture her sticking out her tongue at the edge of her mouth as she does the calculations. “Twenty two billion, seven hundred thirty-six million, four hundred eleven thousand and eighty-nine. Point nine, repeating. So no. It can’t be.”

Part of me wants to end this forcibly. Preferably with a kiss or worse. Maybe worse is actually better? “Before your fourth-dimensional magic, did you try and of the normal methods of checking if you’re asleep? Pinching your cheeks or something of the like?” I ask at length, slowly and stealthily getting up from my position on the bed.

“Of course. I tried to read, couldn’t. Slapped myself, didn’t work because I didn’t feel any pain. All of that was enough to understand what was going on, but I just...” she shrugs with one shoulder. “I don’t really know why I created that Four Dimensional Transposition spell. I guess I just wanted to show Luna I could— AH!”

She jumps about two hoof lengths into the air after my hoof connects with her succulent flank, and spins around with a furious expression. “What are you...”

Do not ask me at what point I decided I would aggressively seduce her, I do not know. Mayhap the frustrations of her endless teasing when she visited are finally getting to me? I drive her back against the wall, simply by stepping forward and leveraging my size until she is half standing, half lying on the windowsill before capturing her lips in a kiss. I drive onward, probing her lips with my tongue and slipping inside when they open. It feels... wonderful is the only way I can describe it. The rush of love, and, I’ll admit, a bit of a power trip knowing I can overwhelm her so completely, lead to a mixture that I could easily see myself getting addicted to. Finally, after almost a minute, I let go, breathing deeply and steadily while Twilight gasps for air. “I’m sorry,” I mock apologetically tell her. “Did that hurt?”

“Yes!” She responds, somewhat angrily between heaving breaths.

There’s not a thing I need to do besides wait. Something I’ve gotten to be very good at, even in awkward positions such as the one we find ourselves in. I’ve no intention of letting her go until she realises just what that pain means. The realisation, as it turns out, only takes a moment to travel through her head. I can see the anger in her eyes transform into confusion, then into clarity.

“It did hurt...” she mumbles, still breathless, looking up at me.

“And what does that mean?” I ask, looking deep into her pretty purple eyes.

“It means...”

Giving her the opportunity to analyse the situations seems like such a waste of time. It feels like a hitherto dormant thirst in my body has been brought to the fore, and all I can do to quench it is to ravage this beautiful, infuriating mare who has made my life difficult and wonderful from the moment we met. My next kiss misses her lips, landing on her chin instead. Rather than be upset by that small failure, I simply go with the flow and plant one one after that on her neck, hanging around to suckle and savour the pitch of her voice as she moans.

“Celestia. Celestia, stop, please,” she whimpers breathlessly as I work my way down her body. It is difficult for me to do so, but after stealing one more kiss to her belly, I tear myself away and look at her standing form. To balance herself, she has placed both of her front hooves on my chest, and is looking out from between them with a blush. A blush that I’ll take every opportunity to rediscover, I think to myself, licking my lips. “It’s too fast!” She says quickly. “I’ve never... I mean...” Her blush deepens a shade or two further. “I’ve never had sex before,” she mumbles under her breath.

I can only blink at her stupidly. Yes you have. By the stars, in another age I would have taken you for a professional courtesan. Granted, I may have been on somewhat of a hair trigger, but that doesn’t mean that... The realisation that I haven’t actually said anything dawns on me. “Twilight...” It takes some effort from the both of us to get out of the awkward positioning I’ve put us in, and more for me to get my unchained libido back in check. “You don’t remember.”

It isn’t a question. Almost an accusation, actually. But even though I was well aware that she was, or had been drunk to the point of passing out, I’d hoped? Expected? Her to remember something as momentus as us having sex. Maybe my perception on it is colored by something different than alcohol.

She looks at me like a startled deer, then, after a long minute, slowly shakes her head. “Remember what?”

“All of this is your fault, you know?” I tell her softly. It’s mean, I know, but whether frustration or sexual insatiability is behind it, I’m very much feeling frustrated right now.

“W-what?” She’s understandably confused. Even though she really shouldn’t be.

“Two months ago, I sent you a letter, asking how you were doing. Do you remember? You responded a little later than I’d expected because Rainbow Dash spiked the punch. You even said you wanted to show me the dress Rarity had put you in at some point, remember?”

Twilight shakes her head uncertainly. “I... Yes?”

“Well, I know what you look like in that dress.” In the moment it take me to find the right word for her appearance that night, she looks at me with ever growing concern. “The word I’m looking for is somewhere between ‘stunning’ and ‘beautiful’ although I must admit, I would have liked more time to appreciate it. You.”

“How...”

“I had no idea how to react, you know.” I say, as much to her as to myself. I’m doing this all wrong. She looks traumatized, and yet... there really is no right way to do this at all. Besides which, it’s oddly cathartic to tell her how I felt. Feel. Present tense as much as past. “My faithful student arriving in the dead of night, searching for me. I very nearly blasted the silhouette in my room before I knew it was you.”

She’s just staring now, slack jawed and silent.

“Do you remember the post script you put in your letter? About how your lipstick was smeared and that you suspected you might have made out with one of your friends? You even asked me if I knew any good ways to talk about it? Well... turns out that something like that is always going to be awkward to bring up in any conversation. It took me this long to...” I trail off, still dealing with the apparent awkwardness. She’s smart enough to understand what I mean even without me explaining it to her completely, right? The silence drags on I can’t help but add: “Suffice it to say, I know that it was strawberry fruit punch that Rainbow Dash spiked.”

“No,” she says. “Nonononono—”

“What was it you said...” I muse, trying to remember. “Something about how I smelled nice. It was perhaps the oddest, sweetest compliment I’ve ever received before being... propositioned.” Somewhere between the start of my sentence, and the end of it, Twilight has made herself scarce. In her place is a Twilight-plushie, which was very likely made by Rarity, going by the stitching. It’s cute, and adorable, but very much fails at it task, if its task was to act as a decoy...

I resolve to take it with me regardless. It’ll make for a decent enough substitute when Twilight doesn’t have time later. The continued stream of muted ‘no’s’ from behind me make for a decent indicator of where the real article has fled to, which makes locating her a cinch.

Finding a shivering pile of blankets on the bed simply confirms the exact location. I saunter my way over and lift the cover off of the improvised shelter, smiling sympathetically at its occupant. “Just so you know, it isn’t actually possible to die from embarrassment. Or shame for that matter.”

Twilight stares at me with two pitiful eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says before looking away, staring at the sheets below her.

Taking more care than is perhaps necessary, I sit myself down at the edge of her bed. “I’m not.” I tell her, using a wisp of magic to lift her chin. “Despite how much sleep you’ve cost me, and the awkward moments I’ve had because of you, I don’t regret a single one of your visits.”

“Visits?” she repeats. “As in, more than one? How...” She swallows heavily. “How many—”

“I stopped counting after a dozen, but there were quite a few. How many times have you gotten drunk in the last couple of months?” I wink at her, maintaining a smile to convey that I’m in no way upset by any of it. “Were there times where you only pretended to be drunk?”

She shakes her head frantically but doesn’t say anything else.

I let the silence sit between us for a moment, observing both it, and her. Giving Twilight some time to gather herself. To order her thoughts and come to grips with everything she’s just learned. Then, after what could be as little as five minutes, or as much as an hour, I slowly lean forward. She most definitely sees me doing so. She’s been watching me continuously since I sat down, as though in my place is a viper that might strike at any moment. Admittedly, I am sort of doing that, but slowly, and the only thing I do is kiss her.

Watching all of her carefully constructed arguments crumble into chaos behind her eyes is enough to make me laugh aloud, although it begs the question: was I genuinely giving her some time to process all I’ve told her? Or was it simply so I could rile her up again?

She doesn’t shrink away, nor does she meet me with her own lips. I am disappointed, but not surprised. Somewhere in this shrinking violet is the vixen brought out by the drink, but she’s not going to come out when Twilight is trembling, questioning reality itself rather than believe her own eyes and ears.

“This isn’t fair.” she says quietly. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Fun never lasts. Seeing her this distraught makes me feel bad. Love is supposed to be a good thing. “You could start by listening.” I tell her before sitting back down. When during all of this did I become the aggressor of the relationship? Why is it Twilight that doesn’t seem too sure of it? Am I being too forward? I sigh deeply. Where to start? At the beginning I suppose. “I’ll admit that the first time you showed up in my room, you caught me by complete surprise, and I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t shocked, and even a little appalled at your actions that night. And after the letter, although I suppose I could have figured it out earlier if I hadn’t clung to my beliefs about you, I realised that you must have been drunk. I don’t like drinking in excess, but I understand your reason for doing so. With that being a given, you cannot really be held responsible for what happened the first time.”

She opens her mouth, either for a rebuttal or simply an apology. I forestall any reply by raising a hoof.

“All of the subsequent visits can be considered my fault.”

“No!” she says, shaking her head violently. “Princess you can’t say that!! Even if I was intoxicated it was clearly my own decisions that caused all of this to happen!! There’s no possible way to—”

Zipping Twilight’s mouth shut with magic is something I haven’t done since she was six. But now, more than ever, it feels appropriate. “Let me finish.”

I wait for her to nod before continuing. “After that first time, I could have come to visit and talk to you, rather than writing that stupid letter. I could have made sure that you wouldn’t have been able to get into my room by changing the wards, or I could even have changed rooms altogether if it was really that big of a problem.” Even as I say it I know merely relocating wouldn’t have worked. Twilight hadn’t been coming to my room. She’d always come directly to wherever I’d been at the time. And even in the throne room itself she’d torn through wards like tissue paper. As much to reassure her as myself I say: “I could have found a way, if I didn’t want to see you anymore.”

I pause for breath and furtively try to gauge Twilight’s reaction. She seems transfixed. Good. Now for the hard part. “The reason I didn’t was because... I liked it.” For the first time since all this began I can see unhindered curiosity spark in her eyes. “I liked being surprised, and I liked your passion. But most of all, I liked the way you treated me. It’s... it has been the most... exciting time of my life for many centuries.”

“But what did I do exactly?” She asks with a self-deprecating giggle. “I mean... I’m not... I don’t imagine I make for a great conversational partner while drunk so...” The realisation seems to arrive the moment she reaches the end of her sentence which adds a whispered urgency to her next question. “What did I do?” She asks, wide-eyed.

I give her a wry smile. “It would be easier to list everything you didn’t do. You didn’t sneak up on me while I was bathing for example. No actually, you did do that.” With a faux thoughtful expression, I put my hoof to my chin. “You didn’t barge in on a fitting session for a new— no, you did that. Even after being the one that caused me to need a new dress in the first place. But at least you didn’t use any cheesy pickup lines?”

“I didn’t?”

“Well, I think you tried, but they all came out too mangled to recognise. Also, you didn’t... No, no, I guess you did that, too. Hmmm this is more difficult than I’d imagined.” With each successive little thing I list, Twilight’s face more and more becomes a mask of pure terror. I’m such a bad mare, teasing her like this. Enough is enough. I put the hoof I tapped my chin with on one of hers and smile at her. “In the end, you didn’t do anything that I haven’t already forgiven you for.”

Twilight manages a small smile. “I’m glad for that at least,” she replies.

“Really?” I arch an eyebrow at her. “So there isn’t the teeniest amount of happiness in having your feelings returned? I’m hurt.” A little white lie. Or perhaps more of a grey one, as the thought actually does sting a little.

Twilight doesn’t seem like she’s noticed my little fib however. At least, not as first. She looks stricken for as long as it takes her to realise the sneaky little smile I have playing around my lips (which is around a minute), after which the emotional orchestra that has been playing both dizzying highs and sonorous lows for the last hour is suddenly and violently tossed from the highest spire, and Twilight lashes out with righteous indignation. “I can’t believe you! First you imply that I’ve done something unspeakable to you, then you tell me that it isn’t a big deal, and then you hit me with a guilt trip?!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say unspeakable, Twilight. It was just... inappropriate.”

She snorts angrily and turns away from me. “You’re supposed to be better than other ponies. You’re supposed to be gentle, and caring, and helpful. You’re supposed to be the one pony I can talk with about anything that’s bothering me! You’re supposed to be—”

“Perfect?” I ask after she cuts her tirade short with an audible snap of her mouth.

She looks back at me, half worried to have offended, half offended herself, and nods.

I sigh heavily, shaking my head. “However I may try to be all of those things, Twilight, I’m still a living, breathing, mare. I eat when hungry, sleep when tired... or try to at any rate. I used to be just as scared of the dark as you were when you were a filly, maybe even more so, I just love listening to piano music, all the while regretting that I never bothered to learn to play myself, and sometimes, I do something so mean as play a trick on other ponies. Even those I love.”

I take a moment to breathe and see the effect of my words. Twilight seems to have calmed down slightly at the very least. “You can talk to me about anything, but... you didn’t. And now, here we are. So, Twilight... was there something you wanted to tell me?”

She just looks at me sullenly, on the verge of a full pout. “Is there a point?”

“I’d love to hear the words.”

She gives me a final pout, a blush coloring her purple coat into almost a blood red. Then she looks away, saying in a voice I can just barely hear: “I... love you, my angel.” She pauses with a look of alarm before swiftly continuing with: “I mean, Princess, I mean Celestia.”

“Angel?” I try not to let my confusion sit on my face like a badly fitting mask. “Are you comparing me to that bunny Fluttershy keeps as a companion?”

Twilight frantically shakes her head. “No, no, no. I didn’t say anything like that. No, mean anything like that.”

“Twilight. I’m curious, not angry. Please calm down. I would love to hear where that nomenclature came from.”

“Okay.” She floats over a book from her night-stand which I hadn’t actively noticed before now.

Taking a hold of it with my own magic, I can see her visibly shiver when our magics collide. There aren’t many ponies who are ‘afflicted’ by the sensitive aura syndrome, and I must admit, to my surprise, that I didn’t know Twilight was one of those ponies. The revelation is best kept to ruminate on late. Right now, the book is what's important. “Radiant Treasures, Stygian Terrors, and a Love of the Divine. That’s quite a mouthful for a title.”

She nods. “It’s...” A deep breath is followed by a long drawn out sigh. “In the book, a mare falls in love with a creature called a deific seraphim. They’re described to be as powerful as the gods themselves, with eight flaming wings and a physically immaculate body that would make anyone jealous. They’re compassionate when they can be and terrifying when angered, capable of splitting the world in half should they so choose.” The more she speaks, the more I can tell exactly how enamoured Twilight was by this idea. Until she suddenly stops and smiles wryly. “Of course, it also says that they’re as tall as a mountain, have no gender specific characteristics, and can be as fickle as a breeze, but I just couldn’t help but think of you when I read about them. The good parts I mean. And I guess it sort of became my pet name for you over time.”

“I see,” I reply with a soft laugh. Sincere flattery, even if it is in the form of comparison to a fictional species, feels surprisingly good. “I think I’ll just have to learn to live with you calling me that from time to time then. Right now, however, I am going to kiss you, and then we’ll need to decide what we are going to do next.”

“What do you mean?”

Holding up the scroll, I nod my head. “I’ve just been told I’m not welcome in Canterlot for the foreseeable future, so I’m afraid I’ll have to stay over.” I cannot help the happy smile on my face while I fling away the scroll. “I know it’s quite sudden, and you probably don’t have anything big enough for me.”

“Well...”

“No, don’t worry. I think the solution is quite obvious. We’ll simply have to share your bed.” I give her a saucy wink, hoping to awaken that salacious side that made me see stars last time around.

Twilight, however, bites her lips and looks away from me. “Princ— Celestia, I don’t know what happened when I was drunk. I don’t remember. But this...” She makes a helpless gesture. “This is all going so fast. I... I’m not sure I’m comfortable...” She lets out a deep breath and forces herself to meet my eyes. “I’m sorry, Princess, but would you please sleep in the guest room while I wrap my mind around... well... all of it?”

To say her reply catches me by surprise would be an understatement. I’d expected a modicum of restraint, of course. No matter how hotly my own libido might burn, that doesn’t have to mean that hers does in a similar fashion. But for her to reject the idea outright? I can all but taste the disappointment, if only for a moment. Her reply is not a ‘no’ after all. She’s merely saying that she needs time. And what is time to one such as myself? There’s a spark between us. To call it genuine love might be a little premature, but the potential is there. If patience is the price I need to pay to see it blossom, then I’ll pay it gladly.

Initiatives and Immeasureables

The guest room Twilight mentioned is little more than a closet that has had a bed crammed into it. It is so small in fact that if I were to stand up with enough force, I might well poke a hole in the ceiling.

Twilight, upon realising that teensy detail was, of course, immediately flustered and said she’d take the guest room in my stead. With equal certainty I told her it would be fine. “It’s not as though I’ll use it for anything but sleep.” I said in my infinite wisdom.

How ironic then that sleep is the one thing that won’t come to me. Tossing is okay. Turning works just fine. It’s just sleep that refuses to cooperate, limiting me to other nocturnal activities. Wiling away the hours thinking about the life I would have with Twilight sounds appealing, but I’m afraid it would quickly drive me up a wall with desire, which is something I can ill afford right now. Residing in a library, the alternative is obvious. I might not be a bookworm in the way that Twilight is; devouring books wholesale with a seemingly insatiable appetite for knowledge, but I have been a fan of both romance and adventure novels since the early days of the printing press.

Trying to come out of the closet doesn’t go as smoothly as I would like. Perhaps it would have been prudent to start with a source of light, but before it occurred to me that my problems are in part due to my unfamiliarity with my surroundings, the space above my head has already become more cheese than ceiling.

A brief pause to correct my illumination situation, I make my way over to the library proper without any particular idea of what I’m looking for. Perhaps something old by Trotstoy? The idea, upon having had it, seems rather unappealing. I want something lighthearted and mayhap even funny.

There was that ribald little collection my nobles were all raving about a mere few centuries ago... Cantermarey’s Tales, that was it. Quite scandalous in its time, though rather tame compared to what is considered as much in this day and age.

I find the book quickly enough. It’s been misshelved in history, but then, I expected that. While many of the stories were inspired by events at the time, with very few exceptions it’s all nonsense. I settle into a nice, comfy bean bag (Twilight’s prefered reading spot I suspect) and open the dusty tome.

When next I become aware of my surroundings, the book is on the floor, the sun is shining and judging by the muted, but undoubtedly good natured murmurs, Twilight is in the kitchen. I guess I must have dozed off at some point. A stiff neck and painful wing joints further clarify that I haven’t moved all night. I stretch with a long-suffering groan and twist my neck this way and that, trying to limber up just a little.

Scant are the times I’ve heard Twilight sing, and on the few occasions that I did it was more a mumbling along while others sang happy birthday. Even so, I knew she has a good voice for singing. I just didn’t know quite how much I liked the sound of it, until now.

“—n’t stop me now! I’m having such a good time, I’m having a ball!” She hums the rest of what is certainly an upbeat melody when she steps through the doorjamb into the library proper. She stops dead and smiles at me brightly. “Good morrrning, Prrrincess~” she exclaims, rolling the R’s like she were a purring cat. Or mayhap a pirate? “Sleep well?”

Twilight’s entrance is accompanied by a sweet subtle scent that makes my mouth water, and I cannot help but wonder what she was doing in the kitchen. The Twilight I knew as my student didn’t know how to cook. By design as she said it ‘took too much time that was better spent studying’, but then, back when she was my student I would never have expected to see her with a pair of wings either. Her happiness, though, is nothing if not infectious, and I present her with a smile of my own. “Splendidly, though I wouldn’t recommend sleeping in a beanbag chair.”

Twilight nods knowingly. “Murder on the neck.”

“That song is—”

Her smile widens. “Catchy, isn’t it? It’s been stuck in my head for weeks.”

I nod. “Very much so. I have never heard anything like it. Where did you..?”

“I heard it while I was researching those four-dimensional magicks.” She replies with no small measure of enthusiasm. “And apparently it was written by a queen!” Her horn lights up and from the kitchen a procession of plates and cutlery fly out into the library, followed swiftly by a pile of pancakes. (The fluffy kind, my favorite) She holds them in front of me letting the aroma permeate the room, and making me smack my lips in anticipation. “Pancakes?”

“Yes. Please.”

Rather than putting a pancake or perhaps two pancakes on my plate as was my expectation, she simply puts the entire stack in front of me without so much as a second glance. The pouring the of syrup is next, and her application is more than generous, but just when I think my luck couldn’t get any better, she tops the whole pyramid of tasty delight off with a big scoop of whipped cream. A more decadent treat hasn’t been seen since the cows celebrated their emancipation, and I can’t wait to dig in.

“I’ve made my decision.” Twilight declares before I have but picked up my fork.

For an instant, I cannot decide if the delicacy, or its creator deserves my attention more. The dilemma is swiftly resolved when I remember that I should have enough mental faculties to eat and listen at the same time. So, with fork on its way to food, I turn an attentive ear to Twilight. “That’s a more swift resolution than I’m used to from you,” I tell her only half jokingly.

Twilight nods with a gravitas that’s almost comedic. “I realised that if it’s true that you love me, and this is in fact not a dream, which I’m ninety-five percent sure of, then I’d be an idiot not to reciprocate. Especially since it’s been something I’ve dreamed of for so long.”

“And if it does turn out to be a dream?” I ask despite myself. There’s no reason to cast doubt now that Twilight seems to have made up her mind, but my ever illogical curiosity won’t take no for an answer.

“Then, I am going to make Luna wish she had stayed on the moon.” A simple statement, with chilling implications. Twilight has grown in the time she was away from the castle, as I knew she would. Although I can’t say that I’m entirely happy with it. There was always a kindhearted sort of naivete to her while she lived with me. An optimistic view of the world, which the world seems to have knocked out of her.

“Lucky then, that it isn’t.” I say, quickly taking a bite afterwards to avoid saying more problematic things. The pancakes are, perhaps, not as good as I had imagined them to be. But then, for that to be the case Twilight would have had to gain several lifetimes worth of experience in a matter of years. As it is, they are merely delicious, and the first bite is quickly followed by a second, and then a thirtieth, with all of the intervening ones supposedly going unrecorded because I’m too preoccupied actually enjoying my meal.

Upon returning to my senses, such as they are, I find an empty library. That is to say, a library with no Twilight in sight, though the sounds of rushing water give some inkling as to her next course of action. Maybe she’s made plans for the both of us to go out on a date? The thought is scary and exhilarating all at once. I should probably take a shower as well. Not to mention needing to find something to wear. The dress that hid the wine stain was lost somewhere between my talk with Luna and waking up in Twilight’s bed. And to my knowledge, Twilight, however well prepared she may be, doesn’t have anything in my size.

Then again, knowing Twilight, she’s probably enlisted the aid of Rarity and a dress will appear moment before I’ll need it. That mare truly does work miracles at times. Perhaps I should reconsider my stance on employing national heroes.

“Twilight?”

“Be right down!”

While waiting for Twilight to do just that, I simply sit back and enjoy the ambience, comparing the oak and Ponyville to the sounds of home. Most notable by absence are the noises and murmurs of other ponies. In Canterlot no matter where you go, there are always others around. Not so here. Most of the noises in Twilight’s abode come from nature herself. The soft rustling of the leaves, the wind which seems to picking up pace... “Perhaps today isn’t really the right time to go out, Twilight,” I say, more to myself than actually to her.

“I didn’t intend to. Celestia,” comes the reply from the stairs. Startling in and of itself, but that surprise is negligible compared to what I see when I look up. Twilight is standing on the stairs , clad in a skirt and blazer combination that, at one point or another, was the school uniform for fillies at the school for gifted unicorns. The surprising part is that it’s at least three sizes too small, and hugging her curves like a drowning stallion holds on to driftwood. “So...” she asks, after striking a pose that emphasises her sexuality even further. “Think you’ve got room left for dessert?”

I merely look at her, mouth agape. What in the world am I supposed to say to that? If it weren’t for the excellent meal and her general coherence, I would have sworn she was drunk.

The moment can’t have lasted a minute before her composure cracks and she bursts out laughing. “Sorry! I knew it was terrible, but I just wanted to see if I could say it with a straight face.” She hops down the rest of the stairs, while I inconspicuously rearrange my wings and tail both.

Twilight wouldn’t be Twilight, however, if she didn’t see through my attempts at modesty. “You actually like it?” she asks, surprised.

I do can do little more than nod. “Yes. I know I haven’t told you in so many words but...” a brief pause to swallow the saliva gathering in my mouth is in order. “I think you’re an incredibly sexy mare, Twilight.”

“I’m actually not,” she counters almost immediately. “I mean, I’m not bad looking but in comparison Fluttershy for example? She could be... has been, a model! I can’t help but feel a little plain compared to that, even with the new additions—” she glances at the wing at her side meaningfully. “I don’t really know all that much about what ponies consider to be sexy but I’ve always had this student-teacher fixation and...” She clamps her mouth shut, blushing furiously. “I’m just going to stop talking now.”

So help me I cannot help but laugh at Twilight and the position she’s put herself in. She looks at me, a blushing purple bundle of embarrassment, but eventually she begins laughing too. It turns into a laughter cascade where, when one is on the verge of petering out, their laughter is rekindled by the laughter of the other until both of us are gasping for air.

“Goodness!” I say as I heave in a great gust of air, still feeling stray giggles that threaten to bubble up to the surface. “It’s a good thing Luna took over the sun for today, I feel lightheaded enough that I’d likely crash it into the ocean!”

Twilight weakly lets out another giggle, followed by a groan. “No more! It’s starting to hurt.”

“Are you sure that’s not from squeezing into that outfit?” I ask her with a single eyebrow raised, all the while trying to suppress the urge to burst out laughing once more. “I remember it was form fitting even when you went to school in it.”

“Hey! It still fits fine... mostly. The skirt is a little short, though...”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

She uses her magic to tug on the hem of the skirt, only drawing more attention to the lack of cloth. I could suggest roughly a dozen means to do so magically, and I’m convinced Twilight has more spells for it than even that. The fact that neither of us mentions such is probably the most clear indication of Twilight’s intent, and my understanding of that intent. Slowly, almost gently, I unfurl my wings, relieving some of the pressure on the muscles in my back, and letting Twilight know that I’m eagerly awaiting what comes next.

“So,” I tell her softly. “Knowing you as well as I do, I’m sure you planned out the entire day for us. So what happens next?”

“Next...” She mumbles while walking towards me, all traces of giddiness replaced by a nervous intensity that is so intrinsically ‘Twilight’ that I cannot help but smile. Of course, just when I think that I’ve figured her out, she does something that catches me completely off guard. “Teacher,” she begins, her voice a full octave higher than usual. “I know you said there would be no do-overs, but I really, really, really need to get a good grade to pass the year.” She spins around and raises her tail while looking over her shoulder. Letting me know that firstly: she’s not wearing the underwear portion of the uniform, and secondly, the roleplay turns her on as much as it does me, if not more. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to change your mind?” She asks, letting her voice quiver just enough to make it seem inviting.

Dumbstruck, it takes me a moment to mentally shift gears. I cannot figure out which of the two is the more unbelievable occurrence. Twilight of all ponies propositioning me as her teacher, or the idea of Twilight getting a failing grade in the first place. It all seems so very surreal.

“Teacher?” She asks again, apparently worried about my prolonged silence.

“Don’t... don’t think that I’ll give you a passing grade, simply because you have a nice ass, Miss Sparkle,” I say in my most authoritative tone of voice, while pondering the strangeness of it all. “As with anything, you’ll have to work for it, and show me that you understand the subject matter.”

Twilight jumps and spins around in mid-air as though she was waiting for me to say exactly that. “I’ll do anything, Princ— teacher!” She says enthusiastically, adding a wink. “Anything you want.”

Unlike Twilight, who seems to have the moment planned out to a tee, I’m still lost in uncertainty. Calm down, Celestia. Deep breaths. What would you do in a normal situation? I wouldn’t have said what I just said, for one. The last time this happened I turned the student away with a stern reprimand, which is what makes it all the stranger. Okay, okay... focus on something else. What would you want Twilight to do, if you could ask her to do anything?

“I think we should... redo your oral exams.” I say at length. Oral— or, kissing, colloquially seems like a safe enough thing to start with.

Unfortunately (fortunately?), however, Twilight’s interpretation of the word seems to be somewhat different from my own. She looks at me with wild excitement in her eyes and a grin that wouldn’t be out of place on a predatory creature.

I realize my error fairly quickly as she begins stalking me, her eyes directed at flank, rather than my muzzle. “Well, all right, but I’ll need to clear the table to have enough space for my exam...” she says in a coquettish voice that is more a purr than anything. “I hope that’s okay?”

“Wait, I didn’t mean—”

“Where are you going?” she asks when I backpedal out of her reach, upending the stool I was seated on. It almost sounds like a growl while she stalks after me.

“I meant kissing, Twilight!” I reply through a nervous laugh. The overwhelming performance she put on last time was wonderful, but I would very much like to be able to reciprocate this time.

She stops, stands upright, and goes: “Oh... I... I knew that.” Now that she’s standing up straight, the similarities with a predator have faded quickly and my heart slows a beat. Other parts of me aren’t as willing to simply give up, however. Strange, I never would have thought that I, of all ponies, would find excitement in being prey to somepony.

I lick my lips to wet them, and cautiously approach Twilight. “N-now,” I tell her, ignoring the quaver in my voice while leaning in. “Before we review how much you remember, allow me to show you how a proper oral exam is performed.” And with that, I kiss her.

With my emotions scrambled the way they are, I know for a fact that my kiss isn’t anything like it should be. It’s too fast, too shallow, and over too quickly to be sensual or exciting. It’s nice enough for what it is, but from the look on Twilight’s face, she was hoping for more. Hell, I was hoping for more. But it makes one thing crystal clear. Either I seize the initiative, or Twilight’s going to marehandle me again. Fortunately, she’s put me in a favorable position, as being the teacher to her student role. I need only play my part right. The part of a lecherous teacher who will put her student in compromising positions in exchange for a passing grade.

I can do this.

I can do this.

“Ahem,” I clear my throat audibly before giving Twilight the sternest look I can muster. “That was even worse than what you showed on the exam, Miss Sparkle.”

“B-but I thought you said you were going to—”

“Ah, ah, ah.” I interrupt her, holding up a hoof. “I will tolerate no backtalk from a filly with an F on her report card.” I shoo her away with a hoof and walk back to the table, taking my seat back before saying: “Now, I want you to try again, and this time, watch your teeth, use your tongue, and slow down.”

“Y-yes, Teacher.” Twilight replies, cowed. She steps forward to stand in front of me, closing her eyes and puckering her lips.

“Now, Miss Sparkle, how are you going to improve if you cannot gauge your partner’s reaction?” I tell her in a somewhat gentler tone, before leaning forward and kissing her again. Her eyes open and gaze half-lidded into my own. Much better, not that she’ll glean much with a dazed expression like that, but then, it’s called role-play for a reason. Besides, there will be many more chances to teach her everything she needs to know.

I linger in the kiss for longer than needed, and shorter than I would like. Even going so far as feeling a little regretful that I ended it when it is over. It seems that, for Twilight, is was more than long enough, as she gasps for air the moment we separate. My concern flares, but is immediately squashed when she treats me to a most brilliant smile. “Was that... hufff... was that better?” she asks in between deep breaths.

There’s a strange and yet comfortable juxtaposition in seeing the Twilight I’ve known for most of her life in the situation we are currently in. It dispels much of the awkwardness that still held in my mind, making room for more lecherous thoughts. I give her a half-lidded smile for a change. “Much better, Twi-Miss Sparkle.”

She glows under my praise, and I need to withhold her from immediately going for the next attempt at perfecting her kissing technique. The pout that follows is almost enough to make me reconsider, but it luckily doesn’t last long. “What’s next?”

“A quiz,” I reply decisively. “It will be multiple choice, and getting the answer right could earn you a lot of points.”

Twilight sits up straight and nods attentively.

“Tell me, which erogenous zone of a mare is most often neglected or outright forgotten during down and dirty rrrrutting?” I let the Rs roll on my tongue and delight in the expression Twilight makes at hearing me be so vulgar. “The wings, the tail, the flank, the teats, or the ears?” I continue without missing a beat can feel my ears burn with an imagined shame. Talking about sex in such vulgar terms has been a taboo for the last three hundred or so years, and I’ve been a willing, or at least apathetic participant. Until now. Unless I actually let it stop me, the taboo will only serve to heighten the excitement.

“Well,” Twilight begins reasoning aloud as she is wont to do. “I don’t think that...”

For the third time in as many minutes I silence her with a hoof. “This is not that kind of Oral exam, Miss Sparkle. You may give me your answer while simultaneously showing how to properly lavish attention upon the body part in question.” I say while getting up from my seat, and walking over to the center of the room. Spreading my legs slightly and hiking my tail out of the way (not that it needs much encouragement) gives her all the access she could need. Putting myself on display like this, even if it’s only for Twilight feels wrong, not to mention the thought that ponies could come into the library at any point and see their Princess on display like a mare in heat. Simply imagining being caught like this is enough to give me a miniscule orgasm. I’m not sure if Twilight has noticed my shudder, but I’ll have to remember to clean up after the fact, a pool of mare cum this big leaves nasty stains on wood.

Had I asked her this question when she was sixteen, I’m completely sure she would have gone for my wings, right answer or no. So obsessed was she with the sky at the time, that she cajoled some of the guards into taking her flying more than once. This was after she tried to convince me that flying was paramount to her education, and when that didn’t work, that she had some rare disease that only spending a day at high altitudes could cure. The guards fell for it, even if I didn’t, and she spent weeks in the air believing I wouldn’t notice. During her studies on wings and how to possible magically manifest them, she of course found out about their more sexual characteristics as well, and in horny teenage-naivete tried some of the things she learned out on me. I reprimanded her then, but I’m not entirely sure I would do so now.

The right answer to my question are the ears. In the hooves of a skilled lover, they alone are enough to drive a mare to orgasm. In combination with other zones one’s partner has access to... well, let's just say that I have firsthoof experience on what it feels like to spend an entire day as a puddle of pure bliss. Skilled lover are the operative words there, however, otherwise the question would be pointless. Many ponies don’t know enough to give proper attention to the ears, and more simply hope for the best if they do remember to do something with them.

Note to self: Teach Twilight everything I know about sex.

Twilight’s area of expertise evidently does not extend to small but interesting facts about lovemaking, or kama-trivia, as I like to call it. At first it seems that she’s chosen for my flanks where she spends some time praising the sun with her lips. But she doesn’t stop there and quickly lowers herself to suck on something more intimate.

For all of the experiences that I’ve had in my long life, bearing a foal was not one of them. Not for lack of trying, mind, especially when I was much, much, younger. But it simply never seemed to take. At first I bemoaned my bad luck, then questioned the virility of stallions, and finally wondered if I might somehow be the problem. All too subtly did not having any foals of my own became just another matter of fact, and that feeling of something missing in my life faded into the background noise of everyday life. Now, however, with Twilight sucking on my teats with greedy insistence, that feeling grips me again, and I find myself wondering (briefly) where we might find a spell to satisfy that urge, or as a last resort, a donor.

“Miss Sparkle, I uuhhhngghh.” Just as I try to relay to Twilight that her choice isn’t the correct one, she sneaks in a lick up to my clit, effectively cutting me off. She doesn’t stop there, either, working her way from being in between my legs to behind me so she can better get at my slick cunt. “Hmmmm, very good,” I murmur despite myself.

The next thing I know, something warm and surprisingly solid pokes at the entrance to my vagina. I suck in a breath and quickly look back to see what else Twilight has in mind. She looks at me with a nervous-yet-cocky smile and asks: “Teacher, can I use props for my demonstration?”

In her magic hangs a fleshy looking dildo. One bigger than I’ve ever seen, though granted, I haven’t come across very many. It was without a doubt bought with me in mind, as I seriously doubt Twilight could fit even half of the monster herself. Where she bought it, or where she kept it up till now are questions that will have to go unanswered. I’m worried that after so much time, the stimulation, the feeling being filled by something... somepony, will push me over the edge within seconds.

“Actually, no, you may not.” I tell her, while strategically moving my behind away from the turgid tool in Twilight’s magic, lest my resistance falter and I simply let her do as she will. “In fact,” I continue, snatching the dong with my own magic. “I think it’s about time for the demonstration to come to an end. You put forth an admirable performance, especially in your care for your partner, but your answer was, put plainly: wrong.”

Try though she might, Twilight has a hard time painting a downcast expression on her face; the whole effect undone by a happy glow that permeates every fiber of her being. “Then...?”

“I will instruct you, so stand up straight.”

She arches her back a little, like a soldier standing at attention. It might have even been impressive were it not for her tail which droops over her horn. “Yes, ma’am.”

I circle her once. Twice. Sauntering around her while taking in my lover’s features. The sight of her makes me lick my lips. Her vaginal lips are puffy, there’s rivulets of her excitement running down her left leg, and her wings strain at the joints to stay in place. Love button winks at me, and I can’t help myself, leaning in to get a taste of her liquid love. It tastes bittersweet, and is overflowing in its abundance. I lick my lips again and move on kissing up her flank and move to stand over her while I kiss the tip of each of her ears.

“Pay attention now, Miss Sparkle. I don’t want you to miss this,” I whisper into her ears as though she were an observer before running my tongue over the outer edge of her left ear which immediately flicks away. I catch it with my teeth and bite on it lightly while bringing Twilight’s own dildo into position behind her needy sex.

She trembles ever so slightly; nervous now that I have the reins. I place a gentle kiss on the top of her head and nibble on her ear again. “I have to admit to being curious, Miss Sparkle,” I say breathily. “What made you go for my teats over my ears?”

“I—” she gasps as I clamp down lightly at the fuzzy tip of her right ear. “I’ve spent most of my teenaged years following along behind you, and I saw them all the time. I just thought it would be so nice to suckle them—”

I chuckle in appreciation. “Whereas my ears were too high up to admire?”

“Y-yes,” she replies with a soft laugh. “I don’t know... I guess I just didn’t think you were being serious...”

“Deadly,” reply with a purr giving her horn a sudden lick which makes her moan. “Twilight, there’s enough material for many, many more lessons.” I punctuate the sentence by pressing the flat head of the dildo against her entrance, while simultaneously resting some of my not inconsiderable weight on her back. The effect is similar to how a stallion would come to support himself on a mare’s back during frantic rutting and the response is electric. Twilight lets out a long drawn out groan and her lower lips convulse once before letting the faux penis slip inside. She moans again and again, loudly and needily, and I briefly wonder if anypony outside might have heard her, but the thought has come and gone before any serious consideration is given. If me being caught exposed turned me on, this is several times better still. “And trust me,” I continue with my half-remembered sentence. “I intend to mold you into a very capable lover indeed.” Seeing Twilight quiver and feeling her moans and convulsions through the part where my stomach touches her back triggers another micro-climax which I ride out in silence while slowly pushing the dildo further in. I run out of Twilight a long way before running out of dildo. The medial ring hasn’t even reached her pussy, but I slowly begin to drag it out of her while paying special attention to her ears.

“I...” she gasps. “Celestia...” Her front legs quiver and give out, putting her in a face down ass up position. Though I suspect her behind is only being supported by the foot length of faux stallion flesh inside of her, rather than her own hind legs.

“However,” I say in between somewhat laboured breaths. “I think I’ll... save that for later.” After another incoherent moan from Twilight I lean forward and whisper huskily into her ear, “For now, I think I’ll pay back all of the sexual tension you’ve caused me.”

No more words need be said, and so I busy my lips with the task of finding the weak spots in Twilight’s ears while pumping the dildo in and out of her pussy in a steady, if irregular rhythm. I should honestly pay more attention to her wings, but I blame being rusty at love-making and focus on bringing her to a thrilling climax with just the body parts I’m focused on.

It’s beautiful.

Correction. She’s beautiful. Sensing that she’s close to climax through the convulsive way her inner muscles try to hold on to the dildo, I flip her over onto her back and kiss her while driving the faux-meat as far as it’ll go. Her eyes are pool of pure lust and love and she fairly screams into my mouth while her wings beat uselessly against the floorboards and her femcum shoots out around the dildo. Twilight, it seems, is a messy little mare.

“Princess...” She murmurs in her state of ecstasy followed by a low groan when I softly lick the tip of her horn. While too much stimulation can cause pain just after a climax, especially one as world shattering as the one Twilight just had; subtle and creative lovemaking can bring anypony to a second, third, even fourth peak in a fraction of the time. Essentially, I am going to drown her in a sea of bliss for as long as my, admittedly rusty, skills will allow.

Which is where the ears come in. Using tongue, teeth, and magic alike, I massage the outer shell of Twilights ears while also giving a modicum of attention to her wing-joints with my hooves. The key is to avoid major erogenous zones, and focus on the minor ones. Even then, it doesn’t take more than a minute before Twilight is gasping and moaning like a mare in heat once more.

“Ohhh stars, Princess... I’m gonna cum again.”

“Try and fight it, Twilight.”

She shudders, gasps, and gulps in a deep breath, holding it as though that will make the pleasure subside. Maybe it does... I can’t recall ever having tried. I do my bit to prolong her pleasure by subtly slowing my ministrations a little more, but to no avail. A few moments later, another helping of her femcum stains the floorboards, and she collapses, unconscious.

Perhaps I was a little over eager. She isn’t as experienced, and lacks the stamina of my former lovers. For the time being, at any rate. A self deprecating snort escapes me before I curl myself around her. I should be cleaning her up and putting her to bed after all that, but there isn’t any rush. And I do so like cuddling.

“Princess?”

Upon opening my eyes, I’m greeted by the sight of the library, and, more importantly, Twilight’s face sticking out from between the plumage of my wings. I must have dozed off at some point. “Welcome back, Twilight,” I tell her with a smile which she returns with gusto. “How do you feel?”

“Great!” She chirps, right before stifling a yawn. “A little exhausted, maybe, but I’d anticipated that much given my inexperience.” After a little bit of wriggling, she hops out of my encirclement and traipses into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with what looks to be a platter filled with slices of cake. “These are ‘power cakes’. According to ‘Healthy Nutritionals, Grassroots Cuisine’ they’re supposed to help recover your energy after strenuous activity.” She blushes and aims a furtive smile at me. “And I think that what we just did counts as strenuous, at the very least.”

With a chuckle I take one of the cakes and take a big bite out of it. The taste leaves something to be desired. Kind of makes me wonder why I neglected to taste Twilight in earnest. With a smile and furtive glance in Twilight’s direction as she munches on her own cake, I consider simply asking her.

“Princess?”

“Yes, Twilight?”

“I was wondering... I mean... Can I...” She takes a deep breath, stuffs another slice of cake into her mouth, and sighs. “I bought that thing for you... Or maybe... I guess I pretended it was you a few times.”

“Pretended it was...” I laugh at the idea. It seems so silly, but obviously Twilight didn’t think of it that way so I push away my mirth and put on a mask of seriousness. “Like I was using it? Or some sort of spell? Or?”

“All of the above?” she replies with a wry smile. “Point is, I wanted to... can I repay what you’ve just given me?”

“It’s okay to say it, Twilight.”

“I want to rut you with that cock until you cum. And then I want to keep rutting you until you scream yourself hoarse with my name on your lips, or till you pass out.”

A shock of unadulterated need flashes through me like lightning and I smile coyly at Twilight. “Well then...” She goes red in the face to the degree that my excitement is muddled with a small hint of worry that she’ll get an ulcer. “Twilight, calm down.” I lean over the table and clasp her face with my hooves. “Breathe!”

Finally she breathes out and back in, finding a spot on the floor that doesn’t judge and focusing on that. “Sorry,” she mutters under her breath.

“Twilight... I like. No... I love your candid response.” I take a deep breath of my own to keep myself in check and treat her to a coy smile. “So much in fact that I want you to do just that.”

She swallows heavily and nods before sprinting up the stairs back to her bedroom. It’s somewhat bemusing I must admit. I hadn’t expected that of all things would scare her off. Certainly not after what she’d just said, but the actual reason dawns on me when she returns with a rather intricate harness tied around her hindquarters. Attaching the dildo to the harness is, apparently, even more difficult, and takes her almost five minutes during which I can only sit and stare, wondering what it is going to feel like.

Seeing Twilight wobble around with a dong bigger than her foreleg after she manages to affix it to the harness is more amusing than I would have thought. So much so that a snort escapes me despite my best efforts.

“Princess,” she whines petulantly. “It’s not supposed to be funny.”

“Sorry, Twilight. It just looks so disproportionate.” I clear my throat and set myself in a prime rutting position. My body moreso than my mind remembers what that’s supposed to look like. Front Legs bent, hind legs straight; face close to the ground for support later on, and ass in the air for ease of access. It is the most incredibly lewd pose I know of and showing myself to Twilight like this turns me on even more, making me shiver in anticipation.

The anticipation of a weight settling on my back doesn’t arrive. In its stead comes come pushing, squishing and otherwise handling of my backside, followed by Twilight mumbling to herself. For the briefest of moments, I am seized by a fit of frustration. Even a stallion with only half a brain would know what to do when a mare displays herself to him like this. It’s instinctual. Evolutionary. But then I remember that Twilight is not a stallion. She's a mare who has just had her first (second) sexual experience. No matter how capable and enticing she has shown herself to be while inebriated, this is something she is probably going to need some extra help with.

Guiding Twilight in the specifics of inserting stallionhood A into marehood B shouldn’t be impossible but she preempts my instruction by seconds.

“Princess?” she begins timidly. “Could you... please lie down on your side? You’re too big and I can’t get this thing...”

Any frustration that remained is wiped away and replaced by a sense of shame. So preoccupied with getting myself what I wanted that I neglected to think about the actual physical differences, not to mention thinking less of Twilight for not jumping like a stallion would.

With a dull ‘thwump’ I let my ass hit the floor, shifting to look back at her. Twilight lines up the dildo with my swollen vaginal lips with mathematical precision before smiling at me nervously. “I’m going to start now...”

I smile to put her at ease and nod, suppressing a gasp when the tip of that thing finally slips past my outer lips. You never know how much you’ve missed something until you have gone without for over a millennium. Feeling emotionally and physically connected to a pony on this level is better than a climax itself (not that that is very far off). Being on my side works out much better for the both of us. While there’s something uniquely exhilarating about the feeling of a strong muscular stallion on your back as he fucks you silly, being able to see Twilight’s contraption penetrate me at the same time as I feel it against my inner walls has a thrill all its own. Having easy access to kisses and nuzzles is merely a bonus.

It takes a full three minutes before Twilight’s hips bump against my own. A full three minutes of excruciatingly slow pleasure and penetration that, coming from another, I would have labeled as teasing. From Twilight, it’s because she’s careful, maybe even scared. I don’t tell her to stop, or speed up, or much of anything at all, really. Just watching her watch our bonding (and sometimes sneaking in a peek myself) is all I could ever wish for at this particular moment.

“Wow...” she says with an awed expression after she can go no further.

“What is it, Twilight?”

“I...” Looking at me bashfully, she motions at the subtle distention of my belly. “I didn’t think I would get to use it like this when I first bought it, and I never expected even you would be able to take all of it. It’s so big.”

“Twilight? Are you calling me fat?” I ask her jokingly.

She shakes her head. “Of course not.”

“Then please, don’t stop fucking me?” I pout for added effect. A little incongruous with our current activity, but pleasure dies down if not fed, and this really is starting to feel like teasing.

Twilight obliges. Happily. Her movements, though a little jerky and unpracticed, make the dildo rub against my inner walls in all the right ways. It helps that the thing is as big as it is. I’ll never understand how they managed to come up with a size that fills me so thoroughly, but right now, I don’t care. The following minutes are shared by frequent, if short, kisses; Twilight’s laboured breathing while she works the faux meat into me again and again; and my moans of ecstasy. All too suddenly, I reach my peak and scream at the top of my lungs, beyond caring if anypony hears.

For a while all of my experience is reduced to a white expanse of bliss with pleasurable tremors that spread throughout. When I return to being capable of interpreting anything but my own pleasure, I find Twilight collapsed on top of me, panting and heaving like she’s just had a climax that was at least twice as wonderful as my own. And for a few moments thereafter, all either of us do is breathe heavily and smile tired smiles at one another.

“Twilight...” I begin, trying to emphasise what and how much I love about her and cramming it all into a sentence. In the end, all I can come up with is, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She replies with a tired smile. The smile dissipates after a moment and is replaced by a more serious expression. “Did you mean it?”

A bead of sweat drips off of the end of my nose as my brain struggles to produce words my tongue to express. Restarting one’s brain can be rather slow after such things. “Mean... what?”

“Just now... you said that you wanted my babies.”

My mouth hangs open in surprise, probably ashamed of its traitorous utterances while my mind was flooded with endorphins. Sluggishly, I try to think of some excuse while my mouth begins muttering about how it’s not possible anyway. “Is that why you...?” I manage before giving up once again, my eyes imploring her to fill in the blanks.

Twilight blushes. “You said that and I just... I couldn’t help myself. It felt so... naughty? Sexual?” She shrugs helplessly before donning her serious expression once more. “I’m going to find a spell, or a potion, or an artifact, or what-have-you to make that happen.”

“Twilight...” I treat her to a weak smile. “I’ve been around for a while, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen or heard about anything like that even existing.”

“And if it doesn’t exist,” she continues full of passion, ignoring me completely. “I’ll make one.”

I laugh despite myself, knowing that if anypony could make the impossible possible, it’s Twilight. “I believe you. If anypony can do it...” The rest needn’t be stated, so after another kiss on her forehead, I move to get up.

“Where are you going?” Twilight asks while struggling with the contraption still attached to her waist.

“I feel the need to take a shower.” Finally back in gear, my brain is already busy filling itself with the possibilities of Twilight making good on her promise. Looking over my shoulder and giving Twilight my sauciest of smiles, I add, “And I would like you to join me for it. If I’m going to be stuck here for two weeks, I want to spend most, if not all of that time making love to you.” Twilight’s little gasp goes ignored, though not unnoticed, and when she fails to open the clasps for the strap-on, I use magic to do it for her. Following it up by lifting her bodily into the air and close enough for me to kiss. “You, my guilty little pleasure, are going to have a brand new lesson plan. And then when you know everything I do about pleasure, we are going to find out whatever else there is.”

She squees softly and tries her best to kiss me on the nose. It’s a struggle because I turn it into one, dodging her and floating her just beyond kissing range for a small prank, which ends when she turns that adorable pout of hers on me.

I may still not sleep a whole lot in the coming weeks, months, or years; but at the very least, I won’t be alone when I don’t.

Author's Note

This story has been a long time coming, but it wouldn't have been as good as it is right now without the marvelous people that helped me make it so.

Thanks to Steel Resolve for helping me brainstorm, getting me over those pesky writer's blocks, and being a good friend in general.
Thanks to BluePaladin and TheGreatEater for providing feedback and for making sure that the entire thing is in any way readable. Thanks to Nova Quill for the cover art. And of course, thanks to you people for taking the time to read the thing. All of you are awesome and amazing.

Investigations and Interventions

Perhaps it’s the stressful day I’ve had, perhaps it’s the glass of wine I continue to consume in its entirety, but the conversation with Pinkie feels like the most pleasant interaction I’ve had with anypony in a long while. Barring Twilight’s nightly visits, that is. Though I suppose that’s pleasant in it own unique way. One or two glances are thrown in her direction during said conversation, and some of those might belong to me. Fluttershy, however, is the one that ultimately turns my former student into a point.

“What if the Princess took Twilight home?” She asks, giving Pinkie a look that she means to convey authority, but which I can tell is mostly comprised of eagerness. Perhaps not too surprising, given that her attention has been wandering since before Pinkie even opened her mouth. Not that she wasn’t being polite, looking at me when I spoke, and lingering on Pinkie whenever she did, but it’s clear that something is on her mind.

“Then we could finish cleaning up and you wouldn’t constantly have to try and be quiet,” she continues when the conversation stalls, looking at me with a slightly worried frown. “I mean... if that’s okay with you, Princess.”

As subtle as she probably thinks she is (and she is doing a very good job at masking her expression) I’ve seen the gleam in Fluttershy’s eyes one too many times to mistake it for anything else. It seems cleaning is far from her intention, though I was unaware that she and Pinkie were an item. I doubt I’m the only one they try to keep in the dark.

All that aside, her plans align perfectly with my own. The perfect excuse to do what I wanted to from the moment I arrived. “Of course,” I tell her with one of my famous comforting smiles. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve put Twilight to bed, and I doubt it will be the last.” A small naughty part of me that I don’t let out often insists that I should tease her a little, and in what is a rare case of indulgence, I do. “Of course, I could come right back in case the two of you need a chaperone...”

Pinkie giggles while Fluttershy turns an adorable shade of red. Tease successful. But leave it to Pinkie to do the unexpected. She nudges Fluttershy and with a big smile says, “What do you say, Shy-shy, do we let the Princess watch?”

I can practically see the steam coming out of Fluttershy’s ears, and the eeps is clearly audible when she disappears back up into the rafters. Pinkie and I share a grin while I pick Twilight up in my magic and make my way over to the door. “Have fun you two.”

“Thanks Princess!” Pinkie calls after me. “We will!”

The trip to the library is no more eventful than an evening stroll. A little dark, perhaps. Luckily the silhouette of Twilight’s abode is unmistakable. Lonely, too, with the possible exception of running into Twilight’s pet owl who perches himself on Twilight’s horn. Leave it to the night owl to befriend an actual owl.

“Owlicious, get me a quill—” Twilight mumbles sleepily.

I pause, frozen in mid stride, waiting to see if Twilight has woken up, and wondering how I am going to explain the current situation to her if she does.

Just tell her the truth. Simple enough right? She got drunk, I was late. I took her home so Pinkie and Fluttershy could clean. Nothing untoward or even really something to comment on. I needn’t even mention her being wrong about Fluttershy’s romantic partner. So why do I feel like I’m on the verge of getting caught with my hoof in a cookie jar?

The question and the thought by extension are rendered moot when Twilight mewls sleepily and tries to shift on my back. With a sigh of relief, I shift her back into a proper position before stepping into the library.

The inside of the library is pitch black, and the first thing I do is trip and stumble over... something that slips away under my hooves. While I barely avoid smacking into the floor, Twilight isn’t so lucky. The sudden motion sends her flying halfway across the room in the dark and all I can make out of her landing is a dull thud. A quick spell later and a glowing orb sprouts in the center of the room, illuminating a mess of a magnitude I haven’t seen since Luna’s infamous ‘chocolate and whisky’ binge.

“It’s like a hurricane came through here,” I mutter under my breath while looking around.

Soda bottles, comics, half eaten gems, half eaten comics, and a whole lot of books are strewn across the floor, a pile of which Twilight landed in. Whether they books are actually soft enough to cushion her impact is another matter, but she has, miraculously, not woken up.

I walk over and gently pick her up with my magic once again, muttering a soft apology while floating her up the stairs in front of me. Perhaps I should clean up a little and send a letter to Twilight to have a talk with Spike about party etiquette.

Unlike the mess downstairs, very little is out of place in Twilight’s own room. There are, of course, a few books open on her bed; I expected nothing less.

A second look after the orb has caught up and I’m forced to retract my statement. Her room is almost as much of a mess. Especially the wardrobe out of which her dresses are splayed like a carcass, and her personal bookcase, not a single book of which is still on the shelves. Putting the mess aside in my mental list of priorities, I clear the bed from any rogue literature, and put Twilight under the covers.

For a punch out drunk pony, she looks remarkably peaceful. She even smiles a little when I tuck her in, which reminds me of times where she was still a filly. Not a lot of difference between then and now in that regard, which puts in to stark contrast to things that are. Like the fact that I find myself staring at her slightly parted lips wondering if it would be okay to kiss her while she’s like this.

She’s done similar to me and more. On the other hoof, I was to the best of my knowledge, completely awake every time. After a few moments of hemming and hawing, I lean in and plant a kiss on her forehead, right below her horn. More motherly perhaps than what I wanted, but it simply doesn’t feel right to kiss her without her being conscious of it.

That doesn’t sound right either. Maybe I just want her to know. I sit down next to her bed and, for a time, watch her sleep.

It’s impossible to tell how much time passes, but I must’ve dozed off at least a little, because I wake up with the image of a sexy belly-dancing Twilight in a sarong still clear in my mind’s eye. She’s never been very good at bi-pedal movement, so that one has to have been a fantasy.

The wine is to blame.

Shaking my head and getting up, I can’t help but feel restricted. I knew there was a reason I stuck to my regalia. I focus my attention on anything other than my sleeping student. That is to say, the room. While I have seen many of the messes she’s made over the years, I can’t say I’ve ever seen one this bad. Especially not since she moved to Ponyville, though that was to be expected.

Between that and the fact that she’s actually started drinking enough to get drunk makes worry that she might be depressed or otherwise feeling upset about something. Moreover, I worry that that something might be me.

I glance at the mess behind me. Mess though it might be, being in her room provides me with a unique opportunity to see what her state of mind is. When somepony has a library full of books, the ones they keep closest can tell a lot about what they’re thinking, after all.

The first few yield nothing interesting, although an accidental glance at her calendar puts at least one of my fears to rest. The current month has big red circles around it, accompanied by arrows that point to the next, along with the words: ‘Pinkie Pie Party months. Research ‘refinement’! Careful!!!!!’

Okay, perhaps it doesn’t so much put my fears of Twilight becoming an alcoholic to rest, as it replaces them with another: That she’ll be an alcoholic after all of her ‘research’ is finished. At the very least, however, it isn’t just Twilight drinking by herself, or even particularly drinking to get drunk. With a shake of my head, I put it out of my mind. There’s little I could do... No, there’s a lot I could do to impact her behaviour, but Twilight is her own mare, and should be allowed her own choices.

Speaking of choices, her personal bookcase is rather unremarkable. There’s reference guides to magical tomes, and a few about alchemy going by the titles. Those I put on the shelves rather haphazardly. I’m certain Twilight has a system for their organisation, but I’ve long since forgotten what it was, if I ever knew at all. After those come a tome or two on dragon physiology and health (stuffed to the brim with personal post-it notes), followed in turn by a series of self help books on etiquette, flying, soil improvement, and herbal alternatives to medicines. The pile on the floor dwindles quickly and to my dismay there isn’t a single book that screams: I don’t usually belong here! I would swear that she had most of these on her selves back when she was my student.

I guess, in a way, she still is. Some lessons take a lifetime to absorb, and some you never really master at all. Like how to deal with such an infuriatingly smart alicorn. With a deep sigh I pick up the rest of the books and shove them in the leftover spaces. Looking at her as being my student is comforting, in a way. Safe. And looking at her while she’s asleep like that, mouth-half open, snoring like she works at a sawmill, and drooling more than some fountain fixtures, it’s definitely easy to view her in that light.

Right up to the point where she came into my room and told me she wanted to make love to me. How am I ever going to bring that up with her?

Excuse me,Twilight.. Forgive me for bringing this up so suddenly, but can you recall how cordial and respectful our relationship has been for most of your life? Well, two weeks ago you came into my room, saying you wanted to rut my brains out. There couldn’t possibly be a more awkward conversation to have.

I look down at her when she shifts and smile when she does. It is a conversation that needs to happen. However, it isn’t one that needs to happen right away. Perhaps I could simply postpone the idea for a year, or twenty. Finally, after a last lingering gaze, I leave Twilight to her slumber, and make my way to the door.

She mumbles in her sleep and before I even have a chance to leave the room, she mumbles at me. “hmmm... Princess?”

Even though I have technically done nothing wrong, the fear of being caught for doing something I’m not supposed to grabs me by the throat and asks me a single question: Fight? Or flight?

I can say with pride that I have never run from anything in my life. But unfortunately, flight doesn’t necessarily have to mean physically running away. In my case it means retreating to a nook of my mind that has helped me shape the world so many times when the stakes were high: Words.

“What’re you doing here?” Twilight asks, heavily slurring her speech while she tries, mostly unsuccessfully, to right herself.

Breaking down exactly what goes on in my head is impossible to put into words. Suffice it to say that the end result is ‘panic’. “I’m just a dream, Twilight,” I reply with an unconvincing smile, hoping it will make her go back to dreamland. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

I know not what kind of effect my words are having on Twilight, but her bewildered expression gives way to a coy grin. “Y’know, Princess,” she begins, getting up from the bed and hopping down with a grace that I wouldn’t have expected from any inebriated pony, much less Twilight. “That dress looks very great on you.”

Despite myself, I smile. “Why thank you—”

“But,” she whispers, standing up on her hind legs to reach my ears once she’s close enough. “It’d look much better on the floor.” And before the realisation has a chance to set in, Twilight moves, and my body moves with her.

She nips at my ear while the warm tingly feeling of her magic closes around the hem of my dress and rips the entire thing to shreds. A mouth that I’m reasonably sure I opened in protest is claimed by her questing tongue, and before I know it, I’m on my back, on her bed, and Twilight is sitting astride my barrel.

“Y’know,” she begins again. “I like the ‘stern teacher’ dreams a lot, but I think I like you blushing more.”

Am I blushing? Maybe I am. The sensation of burning cheeks would be lost against the general heat that has spread all across my body regardless. I’m pretty sure the wine is still to blame. The areas where Twilight’s coat touches my own, however, feel electric.

“Your coat is so soft...” she murmurs into my ear, just before licking the side of my face. “I think I’ve always liked that most about you, well, besides the whole ‘beautiful, intelligent, immortal, princess’-thing.”

My reply is probably as eloquent as a donkey’s. Be that a donkey diplomat’s reply or one a drunkard at a bar might give I’m not qualified to say. Probably something along the lines of ‘thank you’ or ‘you too’. It’s all fuzzy, as if Twilight has stolen all but an inch of my willpower.

I’m kidding myself. I don’t even have that last inch. I swear that she’s cast a spell on me, but her horn isn’t lit, and then realise that she wouldn’t need a lit horn for this type of a spell. This is an ancient magick. Yes with a ‘k’ at the end. And it is far, far older than even I. And even knowing what it is, I’m all too caught up in it.

Holding back vocal approval for what Twilight’s doing to me seems to be the most I can manage, ever since Twilight leveled those smouldering purple embers she calls eyes at me. It escapes with surprise when her tongue makes contact with my labia. “Twilight?!”

She looks up from between my hind legs with a smile that’s soaked with sticky juices. “Pretty good for a mare who’s never had sex, huh?” She asks licking her lips like a self-satisfied cat might. “You’d be amazed at the things a good book can—” She stops midway through the sentence and tilts her head. “Well, I guess you would understand, since you’re my dream and all? But I don’t think most ponies understand how much you can actually learn. Even the Princess seems to underestimate it. But you knew that I knew you knew that.” She shrugs in seeming indifference and delves back into her cunnulingus assignment which has me moan and buck my hips.

There’s not much more I’m capable of, really. It has literally been centuries since I’ve been intimate on any level with another pony, and longer still since I’d had an experience like this. I can’t even muster the energy to feel ashamed as my student utterly ravishes me with her tongue. I glance at the ceiling of her room, not quite able to comprehend how this has happened, and with no immediate inclination to give it further thought.

My entire focus has been reduced to simple things. The texture of her tongue as it laps against my most sensitive areas. The little gusts of warm air with each and every one of her exhalations. The sloppy, downright lewd sounds she produces while she eats me out with gusto. But foremost is the mind-numbing pleasure that runs up my spine like a lightning bolt.

I should be returning the favor, but between the way Twilight has me writhing on her bed and a nervous excitement that swells with the tide of pleasure, I’m as helpless as a kitten. Young, clumsy, inexperienced. The last one should not apply, but it’s been so long! In a way it really is like the first time I tried to seduce a mare myself. She was younger than me, but much more experienced in lovemaking than I who had only ever experimented with myself.

She’d been a tiger to my kitten. Graceful, sensual, powerful... Much like Twilight is behaving now.

A shaky tendril of my magic worms its way across Twilight’s flanks. I’m overreaching trying to do anything magical in this state, but it’s the only thing I can think to do. Twilight suddenly squeaks and stops before looking up from between my soaked hindlegs. “K-kinky Celestia,” she says with a smile and a small shudder. “I like it.”

She continues as if nothing’s changed, but I cannot help but wonder what she meant, until it dawns that I might have probed the wrong hole with my magic. The embarrassment mixes with the pleasure to form something altogether more wonderful still, and all too soon, the pleasure reaches a crescendo. Everything I can see, hear, or feel, burns up in consuming ecstasy.

The highlands of bliss generally do not take long to traverse. Blackout junction, by comparison, seems to go on forever, or in this specific case, almost three hours. And when I do return from my brief interlude into unconsciousness, Twilight is the first thing in my field of view. She’s crawled up my chest and is now doing her best impression of a sawmill there, apparently having fallen asleep halfway through an attempt at post coital cuddles. The only interruption comes in the form of an occasional unhappy murmur at the address of the cold night air. While the cold doesn’t bother me in the same way it does her, the smell of sex pheromones and sweat that wafts up in a heady perfume is a different story. Both of us are in dire need of a hot bath.

The discomfort is a rather minor niggle however, and I end up simply looking at the snoozing mare on my chest. Without makeup, she looks a lot less ‘provocative paramour’ and a lot more ‘loveable ladyfriend’.

Maybe with a possible upgrade to ‘sexy sweetheart’ when she’s awake.

I very nearly laugh aloud at my own silliness.

Which doesn’t at all take away from the fact that last night’s events leave me in two separate awkward situations. The first, and arguably more important one, being that I can’t deny that Twilight has feelings for me any longer. Between learning that she’s been dreaming about me, and subsequently learning what the content of those dreams was, it’s obvious that she’s smitten.

But what about me? I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t like... having sex with her. That’s what it was. Having sex. Much as I would like to have called it ‘making love to’, she was drunk, and I did little more than fail to stop her. Does it go beyond the physical? Can I say that I love her in a way that’s not the maternal kind that’s so long been the basis for my relationship with her? Part of me worries that I don’t. Another part of me worries that I do.

She stirs, mumbling softly and letting out an adorable hiccup before stretching, very nearly giving me two hoof shaped bruises to remember our little tryst by. As if a wine stain on my coat wasn’t already hard enough to explain away. It’s as if, subconsciously, she is trying to make our time together memorable in whatever way she can.

A soft chuckle makes one of her ears twitch, and only after the fact do I realise I was the one chuckling.

The second awkward situation is obviously the physical one. It goes without saying that I can’t be here when she wakes up. The shock of me in her bed would probably see her to the hospital. To say nothing of the smell and probable soreness in limbs. Would she wake up if I moved?

For the next couple of hours at least, it is a moot point. She’s adorable while asleep, and I could watch her for hours. So I think that’s what I’ll do.

The only question that remains is: what do I do now? After I leave here... After things go back to normal... or at least, to whatever ‘normal’ stands for after the last couple of weeks...

I’m going to have to think about what my love for her really means, for one; put my relationship under a microscope and examine exactly what changed, and when. Considering that we’ve just had sex, however, I think I can take attraction as a given. Purely physical, of course. Not that I don’t appreciate her many other qualities, but... ugh. For now, at the very least, let’s go with the physical attraction. Solely for the sake of planning my next move. What do I do with it? With her? With us?

Telling her that I do not want things to continue in the way they have been is too crude and potentially hurtful. Besides, I can’t deny that I’m somewhat thrilled by the attention she’s lavished upon me, drunk or not.

On the other side of the coin, a public declaration of love is also out of the question for several reasons, not the least of which would be Twilight herself not believing me. I’m perfectly happy without her trying to find something wrong with me, or ponies accusing her of some less than wholesome spells at my address.

Keeping any relationship we might have private is definitely a must. Inasmuch as such things can remain private, anyway. I’ve never been privy to anypony managing to keep any sort of romantic relationship a secret.

Then again, if ponies did somehow manage it, odds are I wouldn’t know about it, would I? I shake my head with a sigh and stretch out my wings, letting them hang limply from the bed. I’m drifting into philosophy again. Point is that any public knowledge of any romantic relationship I might involve myself in would have to be proliferated carefully. The information should come from respected ponies within the community to ease the public into it. Nothing huge, maybe just a small byline in the papers?

I’m getting ahead of myself.

Slowly as can be, I lift Twilight from my chest and slip out of her bed before tucking her back in. She squirms, and whines until kiss her on the forehead, right below her horn, after which her fearful expression smoothes out and becomes a blissful smile once more.

I could watch her sleep for hours, save for the fact that I very much cannot. I left a castle back in Canterlot. A castle that, along with the country, narrowly avoided a war. There are going to be ponies who want answers, reassurance, a place to vent, or a combination of the three.

And I very much doubt Luna would have patience for the latter two. I’ve already made my way to the window and opened it before it occurs to me that I could simply teleport back to the castle, and no, not because Twilight was on my mind, no matter what the glance back at my sleeping student... friend... lover(?) suggests. Or rather, she was and is on my mind, but only in the sense that she could wake up from either the flash of the displacement of magical energies. Yes, that sounds much better.

Quickly and silently I hop... well, try to hop out the window, which proves to be significantly harder than it seemed. With a bit of squeezing around the flanks, however, I eventually manage to get myself outside and close the window behind me.

Magic, sometimes I wonder what I would do without it.

After that, it’s a simple matter of gliding down to the ground, and weaving myself a teleportation spell.

An unspoken and oft unrealised rule of governing is that it is deceptively simple. All that is required of a governor is a basic understanding of language and an eye for ponies. Their task is similarly uncomplicated: They need only make sure that everypony performs their tasks to the utmost of their abilities for the betterment of themselves and those around them.

Simple. That does not, however, mean that it is easy.

Explained with a little more finesse, governing is all about making people be they ponies or otherwise, work together. Or perhaps it would be better to say that it’s about melding the different personalities, personal goals, hopes, dreams, and emotions of those around you into a single entity that is big enough to accomplish tasks that would be impossible for an individual. Which as I said, is by no means easy. Doubly so when you’re distracted by other... things.

Things like the memories of the best rutting you’ve had in centuries. Or your student who was responsible for said carnal pleasure. Or even poorly defined plans on how to make it happen again.

Like luring her to the library with promises of a good book, or maybe getting her drunk on something alcoholic that actually deserves to be savoured, or even just throwing her into my room and telling her exactly what I want...

I did say they were poorly defined.

On top of all of that, I’ve had my hooves full dealing with a complete restructuring of the Equestrian Sports Association because they apparently cannot keep their grubby hooves off of the bits meant to be for promoting the sports they themselves are a part of.

Nearly two months of constant back and forth between me and the investigative ponies, who keep turning up new evidence that implicates ever more of the association, and there is still no end in sight. It has gotten to the point where I’d be tempted to do the investigating myself, were it not for Twilight... and my other governmental responsibilities, obviously.

If nothing else, I can at least say that I’ve gotten many an opportunity to study Twilight’s recent antics. Thirteen times she’s shown up in those two months. A baker’s dozen that has little to do with pastries. Unless of course you count the one time she dropped in while I was trying to get through a large slice of cake one of the maids had baked for her own birthday.

To say we shared that piece would be an understatement.

Beyond that there was that one time in the tub, twice while I was just about ready for bed, and a single instance that still makes me blush whenever I think about it. Unbidden, my eyes drift over to my dresser where a new and improved version of the dress Twilight ripped to pieces hangs.

Dropped Stitch was kind enough to fit me with a new one, although not without a barrage of questions that made me more than a little uncomfortable. The discomfort would have been a small price to pay for my indiscretion, were it not for the fact that Twilight chose that exact moment to show up for another of her ‘makeout’ sessions. My secret is, thankfully, still safe with the three stallions that were in the room, though that may only be due to the coercion and outright threats—promises I made them about what would happen if word were to get out.

That being said, it was little more than a kiss on the lips, and did not progress beyond that, much like her other appearances since my visit. It’s making me question how big of a role I played in our sexual encounter.

With a sigh I roll over onto my back and stare at the now upside down doors to the hallway. If only I had taken the time to memorize the dates on Twilight’s calendar. It might have helped me explain, or at the very least anticipate her visits, which now seem completely random. I never quite know when, or if, she will. How many parties can one mare attend in a month? How much does Twilight have to drink to reach that special level of intoxication that leads to the mare I have come to know in every sense of the word? How many parties did she get a little too drunk and simply pass out?

Why did I not get another invitation?

I very much doubt that she remembers what happened. I’d have received a letter to that effect from either her or Spike by now if that were the case. But so far, the only slight hiccup in our otherwise normal correspondence is that her writing is sloppier, and it sometimes takes an extra day for a letter to arrive.

Perhaps she was simply being polite the first time? Asking me in the letter while already having resigned herself that I wouldn’t be able to make it? I bite my lower lip until a coppery taste fills my mouth.

I would understand if she felt that way, perhaps all too well. Life is unpredictable, and the life of a ruler more so than most. You make plans, plan contingencies, and hope that it works out more or less as you had envisioned. Even the best planners, which I’m not ashamed to count myself amongst, however, sometimes make promises that they cannot keep. I made many such promises to Twilight over the years.

It makes sense. I just wish it didn’t. Which leads me back to the question of why I haven’t done anything. Why haven’t I simply invited her to the castle to talk, at least? Probably because of the awkward nature of such a conversation.

“So, Twilight, how are you?”

“I’m doing fine, Princess. A minor headache but nothing to worry about.”

She’d smile and I would have to suppress a blush, which is harder than explaining away a wine stain on my coat. Stupid white coat. Stupid sexy Twilight.

“Why did you ask me to come to the castle, Princess?”

“Because we need to talk, you and I.”

She’d freak out a little after that. No matter the context, she’d worry that she’d done something wrong. Not that she hasn’t done something wrong, putting me in this situation to begin with, but that’s not what she’ll be worried about.

“About what, Princess?”

“About the fact that you’ve gotten drunk and molested me on nearly fifteen separate occasions now.”

I laugh until my sides hurt at the thought of actually saying that. The look on Twilight’s face would be priceless, and her reply equally so.

“B-but I didn’t... I mean I haven’t—”

My bubble of fun with my own imagination bursts at the sound of a knock on the door. Quickly, I roll over and sit upright, grabbing a random scroll and putting a pair of reading glasses on my nose. Not that I should need to do any of that, but perceived weaknesses deflect a whole lot more conspiracy theories than a carefully spun tale. And Twilight wouldn’t knock in the first place.

“Your majesty?” a muffled voice asks, probably belonging to After Hours.

“Come in.”

To my surprise it’s not After Hours, but a burnt orange mare I only vaguely recognise as being part of Luna’s entourage. I don’t think I’ve even caught her name.

“Your Majesty, Princess Luna urgently requests your presence at court.”

I let out a sigh, venting some of the frustrations I have with Twilight. Of course, the mare at my door will think it’s at Luna’s address, but that’s fine, for now. “I hope she hasn’t started another war?”

You’d think somepony working for Luna would be used to me by now, but the mare shakes her head frantically enough that I’m worried it might pop off. “No! Nothing like that, Your Majesty. She... uhm...” She looks down at the floor. “She actually didn’t tell me why she needed you. Only that it was urgent.”

Of course she didn’t. Because that would have been useful, and would have allowed me to prepare as I made my way over to court to put out whatever fire she’s started. “Fine. Did you hear anything on your way to my room at least? Screaming? Calls for asylum or cessations of hostilities, perhaps?”

“No, sorry, Your Majesty.” She says shaking her head, gaze still firmly fixed at the floor. Which, of course makes me remember Twilight when she first came to the castle. She was already an epitome of precociousness back then, and she only traded in most of it. For smarts, and looks. Admittedly it’s the wings I enjoy most about her and— Damnit.

“I don’t believe Luna ever introduced you to me. What is your name?”

“Peas de Resistance.”

I can’t help but arch an eyebrow at that. The name sounds more than a little french, but there’s not a trace of an accent in her speech. The interest is gone almost as quickly as it arrived. “Well then, Peas de Resistance. Thank you for delivering the message,” I tell her while getting up from the bed and putting away the glasses. No need for those in court. “Could you gather some refreshments for Luna and myself while I make my way to the throne room?”

She looks up for just a brief second before quickly looking down again and nodding. Either she’s in awe, or Luna made me sound like some despot when she told the poor mare to fetch me. Knowing Luna it’s probably a bit of both. “O-of course! Do you have any preference, Your Majesty?

“Tea, please, and perhaps a few late night snacks if the cooks feel up to it.”

“Right away, Your Majesty.”

And with that she’s gone. Off to evict peacefully sleeping cooks from their beds no doubt. I sigh again. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

The mood in the throne room is altogether more pleasant and animated than I would have expected. Rather than the traditional one-supplicant-at-a-time approach, it seems Luna has finally tried a more laid back approach. As it stands, it feels more like a walking buffet with nobles and politicians schmoozing in small groups throughout the room while enjoying a beverage or a snack.

Guess I needn’t have worried about the cooks. Though it does make me worry about the reason for Luna to ask me here. If there’s one thing I’ve learned is that ponies generally cloak the biggest of problems in the most celebratory of occasions. Aging, to name one, pesky, example. Luna is master at it when she wants to be.

After searching through the throng of ponies present, I find Luna herself halfway through an eating contest with a pony of truly bizarre proportions. Much too spindly legs somehow hold up what I can only describe as a tub of lard, probably with a few bones in there to keep the pony it’s supposed to be together, and a head that is at once bloated and somehow still tiny in comparison to the rest. The most unsettling has to be that I can’t tell if it’s a stallion or mare.

The outcome of the eating contest is, in my mind, a foregone conclusion. Either it’s a speed eating contest, in which case Luna is going to win. The time it takes her to eat when she’s preoccupied with just about anything is never enough for me to even formulate a question. Or, it’s all about the volume, in which case I have to believe she’s already lost. Luna was never the biggest eater.

“Sister!” She exclaims happily, leaving her plate for what it is. Among my many failings in life, I most regret never having been able to teach Luna not to talk with her mouth full. It isn’t an issue for long as she swallows all of it in one big gulp. “Come!” She drags me along to the throne which has similarly fallen prey to the march of baked goods, and plops me down behind a pile from which I can scarcely see the rest of the room. “Would you like a mystery muffin, a crazy croissant, or maybe an excitable eclair?”

It smells delicious and makes my mouth water. But at the same time, I cannot help but wonder what was so important that luna needed my presence. Everything seems to be in fine shape. More than fine, even. Everypony seems to be enjoying themselves.

“Luna, why am I here?” I finally ask after she has conjured herself another plate and is helping lighten the burden of the one she plonked me at. “I was all set to jum— to go to sleep, which you know I haven’t gotten a lot of lately.”

“I couwnd make succ an impowtent discision withoud yoo,” she replies through a mouth full of confectionary treats.

“And what, pray tell, would that decision be, Luna?” I ask her, not entirely capable of eliminating the frustration from my voice. If there were an emergency, fine, but this? This could have waited ‘till morning at the very least.

“I was thinking we could institute a new holiday celebrating the invention of the pastry.” She continues after swallowing whatever it was she had in her mouth without so much as chewing.

“Why did you wake me for this?”

“You weren’t sleeping yet,” she says with a grin. “I checked. And I asked you down here because I wanted your input. We could plan it for tomorrow!” She waves her hooves around for some unneeded emphasis. “The cooks would have to wake up early... earlier than usual I mean, but then—”

“Luna...” I cannot help but sigh and put a hoof to my face. “You cannot plan a holiday for tomorrow. Ponies wouldn’t even realise it was one, and even the ones you could tell would already have made plans.”

She frowns, but her crestfallen demeanour (if I can really call it that) lasts only until the doors open and the next batch of pastries are brought in. “Next week then!” Forgoing taking another bite in favor of puppy dog eyes, Luna all but crawls over the table to bring them to bear against me from up close. “Puhlease?”

Any one of the many replies I have in mind would, tentatively, agree that it’s something we could discuss after I’ve had a good night’s rest, but they would have to make it out of my mouth first. There’s just one problem. There’s a Twilight in the way.

I have no clue when she arrived, but for the first time, her lips on mine are not my most pressing issue. Rather, the audience we have is. Not simply Luna, though she most definitely has a first class seat, but I can hear the room go quiet, and the ponies I can see from the corner of my eyes all stop talking to stare.

She makes a happy little squeal around my mouth, then proceeds to burp into it.

I pull back far slower than I should, my eyes both wild and calculating. First order should be to make sure this doesn’t end up in the tabloids. I lock eyes with Luna, whispering: “Nopony enters, nopony leaves. I’ll be back in a moment.” And then, to the crowd, I raise my voice and go: “Sorry about this interruption, my little ponies. My sister and I have an important announcement to make soon, but my student has been terribly distraught and I need to see to her first. I will return to you all momentarily.” Hopefully, I’ll be able to convince them that what they saw wasn’t a kiss so much as Twilight whispering to me. And otherwise distracted them with Luna’s idea. But important things first.

No matter how prepared I feel I am, Twilight still manages to catch me off guard every single time. That needs to change. So, with a few precise pulls on the threads of magic, and a small flash, and the both of us appear in my room. She lands a little less favorably than I do, having appeared several hoof lengths above my bed; but then, that was kind of the idea. I need her off-balance, figuratively.

She twists, turns, and gives me a face full of shapely backside while trying to get up. So much so that I can all but smell her need, which is not only running down her left leg, but now also coats my face. It seems I should have gotten some distance as well. Twilight isn’t done yet, however, with a grace I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t exhibit while sober, she flips around, licking her lips (I assume for my benefit) and arching her back to present as much of herself to me as possible.

The urge to reciprocate, to throw what anypony thinks under the carriage and simply eat her out is strong. Almost overwhelmingly so. The tiny sliver of knowledge that Luna will likely come looking for me before long if I don’t return is the only thing that keeps me sane. Although I’m quite positive I’m losing bits and pieces of it all over the place.

“Celestia...” Twilight all but moans, finally letting herself drop onto the bed. “Rut me...” There’s no trace of the seductress that came to me that first night. This is pure, unadulterated lust, and I need to put a stop to it. Quickly.

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” I tell her softly while lighting up my horn again. Neutralising a pony without hurting them is ostensibly childsplay when you have magic at your disposal. Everything from a simple sleep spell or stunning blow to the much more advanced ‘disabling specific electric impulses’ would work. Twilight, however, besides being a more than capable mage, and being one of five ponies I know that actually cast spells in their sleep, is also an Alicorn with a capital A.

There is one spell she likely doesn’t have any defenses against, simply because it is one that is designed to help rather than harm. A stasis spell that scans for unnatural afflictions in the body, and uses magic to rectify them. The only downside to it is that it’s horribly draining on both the recipient and caster alike, and thus cannot be cast on oneself. Given that Twilight is merely intoxicated and not genuinely hurt, odds are it won’t take very long for the spell to complete. But hopefully it will buy me the time I need to settle the minds of those present at court.

There is at least one that won’t be easy to persuade. Before that, Twilight makes another clumsy attempt at getting up, very nearly making an imprint of her face in the carpet. It’s all she has time for before I complete the spell and send it at her. “Don’t wake up until I get back, okay?” I ask her while the spell takes effect, and she nods drowsily. With the spell working as fast as it purportedly does, it’s unlikely that she even understood what I asked of her, but she’s seemingly willing acquiesce regardless.

A smile comes to my lips unbidden while I watch her, half sprawled off of my bed. She’s always had a particular talent for making me smile, even at times where it wasn’t warranted or wise. Almost as impressive as her penchant for getting herself into all sorts of trouble. Lifting her up and placing her in the bed the right way, I lean down and kiss her on the forehead before preparing a second teleportation spell. The more time ponies are given to speculate, the harder the situation will be to resolve. At the tail end of that thought comes the unfortunate side effect of the spell; a mountain of metamagical exhaustion that slams into me with the force of a runaway carriage, making me fumble the spell and physically stumble onto my knees. Something as simple as blinking suddenly takes great effort, and I have to fight back the darkness at the edges of my vision.

It would be so simple. So easy to crawl up on the bed, hug my little minx and let the world sort itself out. Luna knows I’ve all but given her carte blanche to do as she pleases. Why not let her deal with a roomful of nobles? Because she was never the most subtle for one, and perhaps because she doesn’t understand the intricacies of rumor the way I do.

I shake my head, trying to disperse the heavy feeling in my gut. I know I’m tired, body. I just cannot afford to be. Not right now. With effort, I try the teleportation spell that will take me back to the throne room a second time. Unfortunately, with roughly the same result, which only puts more of a strain on me.

Walking, then, is the only remaining option. After a brief stop in the bathroom to splash some cold water in my face, I do just that. The throne room isn’t too far off.

My arriving through the doors rather than with a teleportation flash seems to set off a bout of whispers that put an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Is something tangled up in my hair? Was Twilight wearing lipstick again, which is now smeared across my face? I should have looked in the mirror while I had the chance. Too late to worry about that now. I swiftly make my way over to the thrones. Luna is there, awaiting my return as, if not more, eagerly as the rest of the ponies.

“So can we?” she asks excitedly as I settle in.

I give her a reassuring nod. “As long as we make sure that ponies have ample time to prepare, like say... ten days. I don’t see a problem with introducing another holiday.” The exhaustion is pushing on the back of my eyes making it hard to keep them focused on anything in particular, but I smile in Luna’s direction nonetheless. “We’ll have to come up with a better explanation than ‘pastries’ though.”

“I already know what I wish to tell them... may I?” she asks, somewhat pleadingly.

It makes me wonder if I’ve been too dictatorial in what I allowed her to do in an official capacity. But the thought is fleeting. I’m too tired to give it serious consideration. “Of course. Just try not to threaten them with swift and imminent doom this time?”

If she has heard anything at all since I said ‘yes’ she doesn’t acknowledge it. She makes a big spectacle of stepping forward to where the steps down from the dias begin, wings spread wide, and smile spread wider still. “My little ponies, thank you all for waiting. After having conferred with my sister, we have decided that there are several inventions and social constructs that are deserving of their own celebration. Unfortunately, these things have thus far not received their proper dues, which is why I have proposed we turn the moonday two weeks from now into National Pastry Appreciation Day!”

Luna exuberance is infectious, and already several ponies in the audience are beginning to stomp their hooves in appreciation for the idea. Hopefully, it will distract them from the scene with Twilight. I conceal a yawn behind my hoof and wrangle my fluttering eyelids back into submission.

“It will be a day in which we will acknowledge and thank those who gave us these delicacies, as well as—”

I tune Luna out at that point. She hadn’t told me that she wanted to create more than one holiday, and I should be cross with her for slipping it in without telling me, but that is a worry for another time. Right now, the spell should be about halfway done, and I need to be back in my room before that happens. There’s no telling how anypony reacts to coming out of a spell like that. It’s different for everypony, but given what I know of Twilight dealing with situations she’s not prepared for, I’m pretty sure she won’t take it well.

And of course, there’s the conversation she and I need to have. I already find myself looking for ways to avoid it.

“So? What did you think?”

Luna’s hovering closer than is perhaps proper. It’s a sign of how strong our bond has become that I find I do not mind it. “You were wonderful, Luna,” I tell her. Not an outright lie, but it’s cutting it close. It would cause unrest if I didn’t say my piece, so I leave Luna with a tired smile and stand up to address the crowd. “I thank you all for being here, and would kindly ask you spread the news. A lot of details still need to be worked out before any of this can truly come to fruit.”

Nobles stare after I’ve finished speaking. Not a first, although the expressions are not what I’m used to. Looking around I find Luna staring as well, and even some of the guards who so often escape mental notice due to their stoic adherence to... well... stoicism.

“I believe that my sister was trying to say that it will take some time for all of this to bear fruit, and that we will talk to and appoint the appropriate ponies for the task.” Luna says, stepping in front of me and addressing the assembled ponies once more, for which I am ever so grateful. What did I say that was so very shocking?

Well, at the very least Luna finally seems to have a grip on how to placate the populace. Now what will I say to Twilight? Perhaps I could convince her that she merely got drunk and that she then teleported to my place? That sounds feasible. I could just offer her a drink (non-alcoholic of course) and send her on her way without ever mentioning what’s been going on. That’s right! Nopony needs to know, do they? I’ll just plan around the next time Twilight ‘visits’. It can just be my little guilty pleasure. Nopony will be able to take that away from me.

“Sister?”

I blink and look up at Luna. She’s hovering again, only this time she looks perturbed. She shouldn’t be, if anything she should be smiling. Well, I’ll simply have to show her how it’s done. So I smile up at her. “Hello, Luna. What’s the matter?”

Her frown deepens and she bites her lower lip. “You look pale. Well... paler.”

What a ridiculous statement. The brilliance of my white coat has been recorded in many a poem. The only reason ponies say ‘pale as the driven snow’ is because that’s the closest comparison I could find when hearing my name used in every alternate sentence! You can’t possibly go paler than white. Curiously, Luna’s worried frown only deepens. It’s as though she hasn’t heard a word I said.

“We should get you back to your room,” she says with a decisive finality.

My first thought is for the ponies in court. Surely the two of us simply leaving would cause a stir. When I look around the room for them, however, they all seem to have gone up into thin air, and I cannot help but voice my confusion. “Where is everypony?”

She just looks at me, eventually asking: “Celestia? Are you... okay?”

I rub my eyes with the back of a leg. “Of course I’m okay. Just tired, that’s all.”

“Tia, you are beyond tired.” She says pointedly. “You look like you’ve been up for days.”

I open my mouth to retort, but a yawn escapes me instead. She raises a single eyebrow, and I stare back at her sulkily.

“Come, let’s get you to your room,” she continues, leaning in. Her horn touches mine, a gesture of comfort for the both of us, before the world briefly goes azure-blue.

When my vision returns, we are in my room. I’d forgotten how different Luna’s way of teleportation is from my own, but like a thunderbolt to the spine it’s dispelled the worst of my fatigue. Too bad it can’t do anything similar for the surge of panic that grips me when I remember that there was a reason I needed to talk to Luna before going back to my room.

“Tia?”

Cringing in expectation of Luna’s coming outburst, I nevertheless look over at where she’s standing. She’s not even looking at me. Instead, she seems... curious? About Twilight. Not Upset, angry, or confused. Just curious. Well, maybe a little concerned as well.

“What did you do to her?” she asks after a moment.

“What?!” My voice echoes against the walls of my room. Perhaps I was being a touch loud, so maybe a deep breath is in order. “What do you mean?” with said breath come and gone, taking a more measured and calm stance (inasfar as that is possible right now). “I’ve done nothing but put her in statis. Nothing else!”

Twilight stirs, looking around in confusion. “Wha—”

Luna glances at her, and immediately sends her back to dreamland with what looks to be a simple sleep spell. It makes me wonder why I didn’t try that, as she returns her gaze to my own. “Did Twilight come to you for some carnal pleasure? Or is it more the other way around?” She lapses into silence for just a moment before adding: “Do you ask her here often?”

“No.” My reply is flat and elongated after having been pushed to a set of gnashing teeth. “I don’t... Of course not. I would never...”

Luna plants her rump on the floor without ceremony and cocks her head. “Then it seems you have some explaining to do.”

I bite my tongue pensively, looking between Luna and Twilight. The night has gone both worse and better than expected, but now that I have Luna’s attention, I don’t exactly know where to begin. “She’s...I’m...” With a sigh and a hopeless gesture towards Twilight I start at the most important bit. “I think I’m falling in love with her. Or maybe I have been for a while and I’m only just now starting to realise it.”

The shock I expected from Luna fails to materialize, though she does raise an eyebrow. A silent query for elaboration.

“I...” I breathe deeply, fighting against the heavy feeling of sleep in my gut. “She came into my room some two months ago, just as I was heading to bed, dressed like a...” Biting my tongue I briefly wonder if Luna would understand. “She looked like an angel. Or a supermodel.” When it seems like she doesn’t understand, and exasperated humph escapes me. “She looks beautiful. Gorgeous. Not just pretty, but stunning. And that’s exactly what she did to me when she kissed me and told me that I was pretty.”

There’s a twinkle of something in Luna’s eyes. Amusement? Mischief? Is she responsible for what’s been happening after all? “That sounds very unlike her,” she says softly, making me realise that what I saw was a certain level of awe. “What did she do? What did you do? Did the two of you copulate?”

“Yes~” The word is little more than a long drawn out groan, born partly from frustration, and partially from the exhilaration I still feel when I think back on it. “I mean... No. Not back then anyway.” I’m starting to become— I have been flustered for a while now, but talking to Luna about my sexcapades with Twilight is making things that much worse. Better I finish this up quickly. “The point is, she was drunk. And I guess the second point is that that wasn’t the only time it happened. She’s been coming by off and on without any rhyme or reason, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Luna giggles. “I don’t believe that for a second, sister mine. Your words might try to express one thing, but your intonation rather tells you cannot wait to rut her silly. Or let her rut you silly perhaps?”

I’m not sure I like what she’s saying. What I’m sure I don’t like is the little smile that plays around her lips while she says it. “Please, Luna.” I plead with her, too tired to keep up the cracked mask of social acceptability. “She is driving me crazy with her random visits. I cannot rightly remember the last waking moment I wasn’t distracted by thoughts of her next visit. I go through bedsheets like I’m sleeping underneath a waterfall. And I don’t know how long it is going to be before my tail muscles cramp up from my trying to keep myself decent in public.”

Luna’s smile fades into a little confused frown. “I’m sorry, Sister. I honestly do not see the trouble. She is bombarding you with lascivious attentions and you obviously enjoy them. Why not simply tell her that—”

“Because she doesn’t know!” My not quite a scream echoes off of the walls of my room. I can taste copper, having chewed the inside of my cheek raw.

Looking at her face, Luna only seems to grow ever more confused. “But I had thought the two of you already...?”

“Had sex? Yes. But she’s convinced it was a dream, and she was almost certainly drunk at all those other times.” For whatever reason, I suddenly feel on the verge of crying, a single tear already heroically volunteering to go first and rolling down my cheek. “And when I sent her a letter inquiring about how she felt, there was nothing that would indicate she feels anything for me.” Luna’s eyes grow heavy with compassion and she scoots forward to wrap me in an embrace I gratefully give myself over to. “Stars above, I’m such a wreck of mare.”

“This letter...” she carefully inquires. “Did it possess your usual... tact and subtlety?”

Not trusting myself to speak without it turning into a waterfall of tears, I simply nod.

“So to recap, you think you might be in love with your student who has been visiting you in secret to make love to you... and you’re worried she doesn’t love you?”

“To seduce me. And she was drunk. And that sex thing wasn’t making love. And it only happened once.” Short sentences. To the point. My voice only cracks near the end. Thankfully.

“Sister, what if you were too subtle in your letter? What if young Twilight shoulders the same worries you do?”

“What if she doesn’t?” I pull back from my sister’s embrace to look her in the eyes. “I know her. What if she doesn’t feel that way at all? What if it was merely some silly idea put in her head by one of her rowdier of friends? She’d react positively! Perhaps even managing to seem happy with it, even though she’d only be doing it for my sake, while throwing herself away in the process.”

“Like you are doing in her name right now?” Luna asks, staring my with an intensity that’s strangely terrifying. “Pray tell, are you the one mare in existence that is allowed to throw away her own feelings for the sake of others?”

“Yes!” That damn dam, so carefully constructed to keep my emotions in check at all times bursts and collapses in its entirety, letting the entire lake of pain and unrequited feelings from not just Twilight now, but many ponies over many long years spill forth. It is like all of it wants to escape through my eyes, subjecting me to both a massive a headache and a bout of uncontrollable sobbing.

The torrent of painful emotions is raw and painful, yet I am buoyed by Luna who holds me through all of it. I dare say she shares my pain, in a way nopony else could ever comprehend. “That’s enough, Celestia,” she says at the tail end of a second, albeit shorter tour of my sadness. “However admirable your intentions, and however seemingly well founded your fears, this has gone on long enough.”

I look up at her once again smiling face, befuddled. She simply smiles wider.

“Be honest. You expected me to be surprised when you told me about Twilight’s visits, didn’t you?”

I nod.

“Why do you think it is that I wasn’t?”

I blink at her, then wrack my mind trying to come up with possibilities. To my dismay, I cannot think of anything plausible, or much of anything at all really. Crying tired me out even more than I already was and trying to squeeze anything useful out of my brain proves to be entirely fruitless. After an honest effort, I shake my head. “I... do not know.”

She tuts and then giggles. “Your dreams, Celestia. I’ve seen your dreams. Worse... or, I suppose, even better? I’ve seen Twilight’s dreams.” With a nod towards my sleeping student on the bed, she says: “I can tell you that, without a doubt, she’s in love with you as well. Neigh, more than that, she’s hardly ever had dreams that don’t feature either you, books, or a combination of the two for as long as I have been watching over her.”

Relief washes over me like warm summer rain, bringing happiness to my soul, and a question to my weary mind. “Why... why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“I don’t like to meddle,” she replies. “It has— I have caused problems and damage untold because of precisely such things in the past.”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“You mean besides the fact that you are my sister, and that I hate to see you put yourself through this emotional torture? Because I have spent enough time with the two of you to know that I’m right.”

A surge of dizziness overwhelms, and where it not for the fact that Luna is still holding me, I’m afraid I might have collapsed. “Luna... I don’t... what do I do?”

“Well,” she begins thoughtfully, looking wiser than I’ve ever thought of her before. “For now, you should join Twilight on the bed, and catch up on some sleep. Then, once you’re well rested and sure that you will no longer do anything so foolish as worry. You tell her what she’s been doing, how it affected you, and what is has come to help you realise. And after that...” she smirks. “I think you’ll figure it out, or if not, she will. It seems to have done a number on you already. Just promise me one thing.”

She’s casting a spell. I can tell by the way her horn glows, but I cannot quite figure out what it is. Something pushes against my consciousness, but I manage to utter a: “What?”

“I get to be the one that marries the two of you.”

“‘Slong as y’don’t go ‘nd tell ‘vreypony ‘bout ‘sss...” That’s as far as I get with my sentence before I finally realise what spells she’s casting, which is also my last realisation of the night.

Author's Note

Luna: 1 | Celestia: Clueless.