Guilty Pleasure

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

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

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

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

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

Dear sister mine,

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

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

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

Enjoy your very own holiday, sis.

Eternal love, Lunetta.

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

“Princess?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you figure that out?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It means...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How...”

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

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

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

“No,” she says. “Nonononono—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d love to hear the words.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“Well...”

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

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

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