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