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.