The Twining

Shining was right. He was so, so right, and if only Twilight had believed him before she’d been wrapped in the embrace of… whatever the thing in the bathroom had been. The thing wearing her father’s face, and then Shining’s too. The thing whose haunting laughter had followed her out and down the corridor, ringing incessantly in her ears.

Twilight didn’t know what kind of spell it had placed on her, what strange fog had settled over her mind and pulled her towards her father, drawn her in for that intense and longing kiss, but it scared her. It had seemed so right, so natural. So perfect. At least, right up until it had revealed its duplicity, and now Twilight knew Shining was right. They had to get out of here. She had to find him, before this place got to him. Before it got to her.

Back through the maze of corridors, as fast as her legs could carry her. Burning muscles, gasping breath. Keep running and don’t stop and whatever you do don’t think about Night Light’s kiss, don’t think about how warm and wonderful it was. And don’t you dare think about how when you opened your eyes and saw Shining’s reflection instead, the first thing to jolt through your thoughts was deep excitement. Just run. Just get out. Grab Shining and go, you’ll find a way, surely.

Twilight didn’t stop running until she heard music.

Her canter slowed to a crawl, that sick feeling back again in full force. She’d been hearing it for some time, now, creeping at the very edges of her hearing, but it was only now that she could hear the tune and melody that she really comprehended that faint whisper. And something else, too, rumbling beneath it.

All coming from the direction of the ballroom.

Twilight cursed under her breath, but she had to check, didn’t she? Had to see. Perhaps Shining had returned there, and something else had found him first. Something that wore other ponies’ faces and kissed so well with them and just look how hard he is for you and-

Don’t think about it.

And so, reluctantly, carefully, Twilight began to creep along towards the source of the noise. It wasn’t long before she could discern what that rumbling was: the bustle of conversation, of hundreds of voices rolled together into a single roar of sound. The sinking feeling worsened. All alone. She and Shining were all alone here, just her and her brother, and now hundreds of voices that couldn’t possibly be here but were, all the same.

The ballroom doors loomed before Twilight, wooden frames around tall, misted glass that brought back memories she was trying very hard to forget, and she wasn’t quite sure when they had snuck up on her like that. She’d been so focused on the noise and its impossibility that she hadn’t really noticed when she’d arrived here. Or something like that. It didn’t really explain how she’d gotten here so quickly, in the same way she couldn’t really explain how she’d known exactly which part of the hotel to find Room 237 in without any guidance from Shining.

Through the glass came the buzz of a happy, cheerful crowd, and Twilight didn’t want to open the doors. She didn’t want to know what was waiting for her on the other side, but she also knew it was for her. Somehow, all of this was for her, just as the thing in the bathroom had chosen its faces for her. And if she didn’t look, if she just walked away, she’d probably somehow wind her way back here anyway. The hotel wasn’t going to let her go that easily.

When Twilight did push open the door, for a dreadful, awful moment she was convinced she was going to see nothing on the other side. For a second she was sure that was exactly what she did see, an empty and desolate ballroom like before, gathering cobwebs and nothing more.

But then she saw the blazing chandeliers, heard the music wash over her, and the illusion of nothing was gone and replaced by an enormous crowd of ponies. All at once, Twilight felt very underdressed. The gathered crowd all sported fancy tuxedos and overindulgent dresses, the sort that Rarity would have been fawning over all evening, and the feeling that soaked through Twilight was reminiscent of the first Canterlot gala she’d ever attended, how the ponies had sneered at her and her friends. At least now she could be safe in the knowledge that princesshood had made her practically immune to sneering from the upper crust. None of them would dare.

Still, she couldn’t help feeling out of place as she meandered through the crowd towards the bar. The music languished in the air, gently and unhurriedly moving through the motions, taking its time. Twilight didn’t recognise the song, but it sounded strangely familiar nonetheless, as though she’d heard it once before and since forgotten. Around her, ponies danced, swaying gently to the pleasant tune, and while Twilight couldn’t work out where the music was coming from, she couldn’t help but sway a little herself as she walked.

And whether it was the gentle music or the familiar sight of Maud behind the bar, a wide smile broke across Twilight’s face.

“Good evening, Princess.” Maud greeted Twilight with her typical monotone. “What will you be having? The usual?”

“Yes, thanks,” Twilight replied, dropping into one of the few vacant stools. “It’s been a… difficult evening, that would be great.” Her smile wavered a little. “Oh, but I don’t have any bits, I wasn’t planning on-”

Maud waved away her concerns with a contemptuous flick of her hoof, sliding a milkshake over to Twilight with the other. That was strange: Twilight hadn’t seen her making it, and so quickly, too.

“For you, no charge,” Maud said. “Orders from the house.”

Twilight frowned. “The owners? But I don’t know them.”

“Orders from the house,” Maud repeated, slowly and carefully enunciating each word as though explaining something to a foal, and leaving Twilight mildly offended.

“I really think I should get some bits from my room,” Twilight said.

Maud’s usual impassiveness turned stern. “Your money’s no good here, Twilight,” she said, firmly. “Now drink up, you’ll feel better.” And with that, Maud turned and moved away to serve some of the more raucous party-goers.

Twilight hesitated a moment. She felt like she was missing something, something important. Why would the owners be covering her drinks here? She’d never even met them, and surely simply looking after the hotel over winter wasn’t enough to warrant such insistence? Maybe it was her royalty coming to the rescue again, although she always hated getting special treatment simply because she was a Princess. Still, she knew better than to question a free milkshake too harshly, and so with a shrug she picked up her drink and made to mingle with the rest of the crowd. Perhaps she could even find out what they were supposed to be celebrating.

She didn’t manage to get more than two steps before a sudden blur slammed into her at breakneck speed, almost knocking her straight to the ground. There was a loud clatter as a metal tray went flying and the champagne glasses perched atop it followed suit, and then Twilight was coated in an awful mixture of expensive booze and milkshake, splattering wetly against her fur.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I’m so so so so so so so so super sorry! I didn’t see you there, I was just-” The pink blur froze in sudden recognition. “Twilight?”

It took a moment for Twilight to recognise her friend: she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Pinkie Pie dressed up so smartly, a long tailcoat almost managing to hide her otherwise stand-out bubblegum pink fur and unkempt mane. And then Pinkie was holding her in a crushing hug, so tight Twilight couldn’t even try to breathe.

“It is you!” Pinkie squealed. “I thought I saw you earlier when you first came in, but then I was like no way Pinkie why would Twilight be here you silly goose, it must have been someone else who looked just like her and also happened to be an alicorn and have the same cutie mark.” She frowned, although her suffocating hug didn’t relax in the slightest as Twilight spluttered and struggled. “You know, come to think of it that was pretty silly of me, of course it had to be you, I should have come over and said hi! But I was busy and I had to keep serving drinks or Maud would get mad at me, and I mean you know how emotional Maud gets, I wouldn’t dare upset her.”

Twilight’s world began to go dark at the edges as her lungs screamed for oxygen to no avail. Moments before she passed out completely, though, Pinkie let out a tremendous gasp of horror and released her grip.

“Oh no!” Pinkie exclaimed in terror, as Twilight hyperventilated beside her. “I made your fur all sticky and gross! You can’t be sticky and gross at a party like this, what will the other ponies think? Come on, I can fix this, and especially before Maud finds out I covered you in champagne.”

And before Twilight had recovered enough to attempt speech, Pinkie grabbed her by the hoof and began dragging her through the crowd, only stopping once she’d dragged Twilight into an otherwise deserted bathroom. A little twinge of hesitance shot through Twilight at the sight of pale tiles, but it was too late and Pinkie had pulled her inside before she could say a word.

The moment the door closed behind them, the party outside was utterly and completely silenced. Not even a whisper snuck in beneath the bathroom door, and Twilight couldn’t help but shake the unnerving feeling that the party really had gone silent, that all those ponies outside were now standing motionless, staring at the door Pinkie had dragged her through, waiting and listening.

The bathroom itself seemed strangely desolate, too. Perhaps it was the way their hooves echoed against the tiles, or perhaps it was the odd, vivid orange colouring on the walls that seemed so out of place. Either way, Twilight couldn’t shake off the uncomfortable feeling even as Pinkie practically skidded to a stop and beamed at her.

“We made it!” Pinkie said, triumphantly, “Now just stand still and let ol’ Pinkie Pie work her magic and get you as good as new.”

Pinkie produced a cloth from… somewhere, and as she soaked it in the sink Twilight was finally given a moment to speak without being strangled or manhandled.

“Pinkie, what are you doing here?”

“Uh, what does it look like I’m doing, Twilight? I’m waitressing, obviously! Come on, you ‘re supposed to be the big brain purple smarty pants, it shouldn’t take a genius to work that out.” Pinkie rolled her eyes and set to work furiously sponging at Twilight’s fur with the cloth.

“No, I mean, what are you doing here? In this hotel?”

“Oh! Well me and Maud are working here over winter, and the rest of the family, too! Rock farming isn’t as lucrative as it used to be, y’know, so they’ve had to branch out a bit. And I offered to help.”

“Oh.”

There was a long silence, Pinkie Pie’s tongue poking between her teeth as she concentrated entirely on her efforts.

“Wait, what do you mean you’re working over here over winter? Are you caretaking as well?”

“Don’t be silly, Twilight. You’re the caretaker.” Pinkie fixed her with an uncharacteristically serious stare. “You’ve always been the caretaker,” she murmured. “And I should know. I’ve always been here.”

Twilight’s eyes widened in confusion and fear, only for Pinkie to snort loudly with laughter.

“Just kidding!” she exclaimed, before devolving into another fit of giggles. “But wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Um, yes? I guess it would be.”

“Obviously I haven’t always been here, but we’re not the caretakers. Not now you’re here, anyway.”

“What?”

Pinkie ignored the question, humming cheerfully to herself as she continued to mop at Twilight’s fur. “Hey, I think this is starting to come out!”

Twilight barely heard her. She was starting to piece things together – an awful puzzle she wished she hadn’t solved.

“Pinkie?”

“That’s me!”

“Were you and your family the caretakers here? Before me, I mean.”

Pinkie perched her chin on her hoof, as though this was some great task of recollection. “Hmmmmmm. No, I don’t think so. I’d remember something like that.”

“It’s just… one of the previous families that Celestia was telling me about was just like yours. A husband and wife, three daughters. And then… And then they…” Twilight couldn’t finish. The words got caught in her throat, unwilling to even entertain the notion that Pinkie could have been caught up in all this, too.

“I’m sorry, Twilight, that doesn’t sound familiar. What did they do?”

Twilight tried to force the word out, but all she could manage was a tiny squeak.

“I still can’t hear you.”

“Incest,” Twilight whispered.

Pinkie stopped wiping. “Incest?” she asked in a low voice, her horror and disgust obvious.

Twilight could only nod.

“That’s terrible!” exclaimed Pinkie. “All of them? The whole family!?”

“Yes. I know, it’s hard to believe, but-”

“Twilight, how could you possibly think we’d be the type of ponies to do something like that? I thought you were my friend!”

Twilight could see the hurt in Pinkie’s eyes, and knew she’d overstepped. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“No,” said Pinkie, coldly. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry! It’s just all those stories Celestia told me, I think they’re getting to me. I know you’re not the kind of pony to sleep with her family, it’s just-”

Pinkie’s expression suddenly morphed into one of pure confusion. “Wait, that’s what incest means?”

“Um, yes?”

“Oh.” Pinkie’s confusion made way for a bright smile. “In that case we totally did it.”

“What!?”

“Well, yeah. You’ve been here a while now Twilight, you know what it’s like. Maud didn’t deal with it well – she’s got a libido like you wouldn’t believe, even I struggle to keep up with her sometimes – and she was saying crazy things like she was gonna run out in the snow to find a stallion if she had to, and what sort of sister would I be if I let her do something like that? So, I did the only thing I could.” Pinkie leaned in close, close enough that the sweet, candy-like smell that followed her everywhere began to overwhelm Twilight’s senses. “I fucked her.”

Twilight couldn’t believe the things she was hearing. That sick feeling was back, and the whole bathroom felt like it was slowly rotating, as though her hooves were about to slide out from beneath her and send her sprawling. “But… You…”

“And then Limestone and Marble found out, and they wanted in, and so of course we said yes and fucked them as well. And then Mom and Dad found out too, and they… Well, they took a bit more convincing, but now they love it as much as we do!”

There were no words left. Twilight stammered, searching, sure that she would find some if she only tried hard enough, but there was nothing in her vocabulary for this scenario. It was too impossible, too incomprehensible.

“This isn’t real,” were the words she settled on. The only ones she could find. “You’re just one of the ghosts we were worried about.”

“Um, I’m not dead, Twilight,” Pinkie giggled, and even though it sounded no different than usual it seemed so sinister as it echoed off the bathroom walls. “How could I be a ghost if I’m still alive? That’s not how ghosts work.”

“But…”

Pinkie rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Obviously I’m a manifestation produced from your fractured psyche and the malevolent, fetishistic sentience in this hotel! Duh.”

“Oh. Right. Duh.” Twilight’s voice was flat and monotone, a startling likeness to Maud. The world seemed to be closing in around her, the bathroom constricting smaller and smaller, crushing her and Pinkie within it along with any sense of reason Twilight thought she’d had left.

“Besides,” said Pinkie, “it’s not like you haven’t wanted to have sex with Shining Armor this whole time. I don’t know why you’re being so weird about it.”

That managed to break through the dullness, snapping Twilight out of it with a flash of panic and anger. “I do not want to sleep with my brother!”

Pinkie, for once, said nothing. She simply gave Twilight a pointed look.

“Okay, fine! I had a crush on him when I was still a filly, but we’re not foals anymore. That was just hormones. Puberty. It’s not what you think it is.”

Pinkie smiled again, but now it was warm and friendly, no trace of that sinister feeling from earlier. The bathroom, too, seemed to have relinquished its choking grip, and Twilight felt like she could breathe again.

“He wants you too, you know,” Pinkie said.

“What? How would you know that?”

“I tested him. He liked what he saw, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Why do you think he was so flustered earlier?” Pinkie leaned closer to whisper into her ear. “It would be so easy,” she murmured. “All he needs is a little… push, and he could be all yours, just like you want. You’re all alone here, after all, who’s going to stop you? No one would ever know. Just you and him, the way you’ve always wanted.”

“That’s not true,” Twilight insisted, but even she didn’t sound so sure of herself anymore. Her head spun, and the dizziness made her stumble, and when did the bathroom get so warm?

“You could have him, Twilight. All of him. And all you would have to do is stop lying to yourself.”

The last of Twilight’s resistance crumbled. She’d been fighting it for so long, so unwilling to accept the truth, and she was tired of it. Tired of resisting, tired of that little pang in her chest whenever she caught Shining and Cadance in those little moments of affection. A quick peck on the cheek followed by a warm smile, Cadance resting her head on Shining’s shoulder, or even just the way he looked at her sometimes, like he was lost in her. Why keep pretending? Why not take him, now that you can?

Twilight stared at Pinkie, trembling, eyes wide, and if she concentrated it almost seemed like Pinkie wasn’t quite there, like she was staring straight past at nothing but her own reflection in the bathroom’s mirror. “Okay,” she breathed, almost too quiet to hear. “I want him.”

Loud enough, it seemed, because Pinkie’s grin widened until it would rival the Cheshire Cat’s. “Good girl,” she murmured. “And luckily for you, I know just where you can find him.”