The Merry Llewd

Out in the village, life was slowly getting back to normal. Kids, and some adults, were careening down the slopes on sleds. Business owners were knocking off ice sickles as the bright sun melted some of the copious snow on their roofs. The mares and stallions of the Merry Llewd had awoken the next day feeling tired, perhaps a little sore, but also satisfied. There was an air of renewal blowing on the wind. There were greetings and salutations between neighbors as they all cleared their front walks of snow and contributed to the effort to clear the roads enough for commerce to return.

Things were quiet in the castle. There was the sense of recovery as if from a massive ball. The platform was dismantled. The braziers returned to their storage. The snow was cleared from the courtyard.

Some time later, Princess Cinnamon Music, highest ranking regent in the Clopathian mountain range, came out of the library. She was shambling, wrapped only in a blanket. Her mane looked like ospreys had used it as a nest and then abandoned it for something tidier. On seeing her, the footman quickly scurried off, and Chatter Lee quickly appeared.

“Good day, Princess. I trust you’re well rested.”

“I - I am. I think.” Her voice was a hoarse croak and she cleared her throat. “Good day? Not morning? What time is it?”

“It is half two...” she smirked. “...in the afternoon,” she added needlessly, as Cinny was shielding her eyes from the blinding sunlight coming in through the windows and bouncing off the high ceiling. It was the blinding, diffuse light that you only got with bright sun bouncing off the surrounding snow covered slopes like a giant solar collector.

The cook bustled in and pressed her “Best Princess” mug into her hands. The blessed smell of strong coffee met her nostrils and she drank gratefully.

“Ah... Thanks. You know just what I need.”

“I bet I know what you’ll be needing next. I’ve been keeping the bath water hot since yesterday morning.”

“Ahh. Thank Y-. Wait. Yesterday?”

“It’s Monday Princess. You slept through yesterday.”

“Goodness!”

Chatter Lee leaned to one side to peer behind Cinny and into the relative gloom of the library. “Another coffee, Prunella. Better make it a big one.”

The Count leaned against the doorframe, holding up a wing as a parasol against the intense glow. “And keep them coming,” he said. “Maybe take them straight up to the bath.”

Some time later, two ponies were relaxing, wet and satisfyingly clean, in either end of a large bathtub. Their recovery had been surprisingly quick, even (or especially) to them.

“Really?” Cinny said suddenly. “You’re ready for that? After all we did?”

“When you’re around, I’m always ready sweetie.” He chuckled, but pulled his hoof away from where he’d been playfully massaging her marehood.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” she said with a smile.

There was a tentative knock on the door, and with Cinny’s call, Fernela moved cautiously into the room. “I just wanted to do a quick check for any lasting effects. If you’re sure you don’t mind…”

“Of course not,” You’ve seen everything at this point. “In fact, from what Count has been telling me…” She rested her chin on the edge of the tub and looked up with a wicked smirk, raising her eyebrows.

The doe’s ears splayed and she stammered. “I.. It was…”

Cinny waved a hand. ”It wouldn’t be that big a deal even if there wasn’t massive wild magical energies at work.”

“Thank you for your understanding.”

“In fact… If I remember the full story, I think you and Count have some unfinished business…”

Her ears splayed again and the exposed flesh of her nose went bright red. Some hours later, the staff had to mop up a surprising amount of water from the floor. It turned out reindeer fur was every bit as soft and luxurious as Cinny had imagined, and it also could hold onto a great deal of water and leave an impressive trail from the bath all the way to the royal bed chambers.