Alone in my kitchen I contemplated the blade.

Despite the long time since I had availed myself of this instrument, my fingers found its hiding place without error. Bitterly sharp and mirror sheened, this was no rude chopper of vegetables. The handle had once been bone pale wood, but no amount of scrubbing ever removed the dark stains soaked into the grain.

“Maybe tomorrow,” I told it, but kept my voice hushed.

By my calculation it was my three thousand four hundred sixty seventh night without Twilight, and after such a short absence I had almost cheated on her.

For another minute I watched my reflection in the knife. The razor edge sang to me, offering blood, pain, and some kind of an atonement. I hadn’t cut myself since first visiting the shrine of Aphrodite and it felt like a betrayal of the goddess to contemplate it. But I still owed penance for nearly giving myself to Isha. I drew the knife until it just touched the under side of my arm. The skin was crosshatched with lines of scar tissue, one more wound, or a lifetime more of wounds, would make little difference in the inevitable end.

Once more, magic had failed me. I had cast as soon as Isha was gone, as soon as Gloam was asleep in her bed. Once more the portal to Equestria had not opened, though I had attempted the spell with more power than I had ever used before. My despair, my need to throw myself at Twilight’s hooves and beg forgiveness, had led me to channel greater energy than floating an entire starship safely to the ground. There had been a feeling of a breakthrough just as my attempt faltered, but nothing happened.

At last I pulled the knife away from the fragile shell of my mortality, still unbloodied. I would gain no new scars tonight.

“Maybe tomorrow something changes,” I muttered, “or maybe tomorrow I cut.”

Or maybe, before tomorrow, I would bring my sin to its perfection. Isha had only been gone for an hour. I was afraid of what might happen when she returned.

—

Stepping through the portal, we found ourselves back in my domicile. It should have represented the comfort of home; instead it just seemed a drab cage after the glory and possibility of Gallop.

“Dibs on the shower!”

Gloam scampered off.

I was still holding Isha’s hand.

Shyly I raised my eyes to hers.

Bear’s voice interrupted. “Doctor Myrtle, someone has been in your domicile while we were off planet. Arcology security has it locked down, but they want you to check it out. I can’t connect to your Jeeves unit.”

“Frigga’s tits in cold armor!” Isha cussed, “It’s not like anything I care about is light enough to steal.” This kiss was only a quick peck. “I’ll be back when I can.”

And she was gone.

—

My pulse quickened at the thought of what could have happened if she hadn’t been called away. What would happen when she returned.

I raised the knife again, the guilt was intolerable. I didn’t deserve Twilight or Isha. Cut a little deeper this time and neither would be troubled by me again. There was a pin-point of pain just before breaking the skin, an exhilarating rush of terror and hope for an escape. All I need to do was press harder and—

Pop

I knew only one thing that made that sound.

One pony, that is.

One very particular pony’s very particular unique rose coloured teleport spell.

Time turned to thick, slow, syrup. I couldn’t breathe, I could barely move in my haste to seize Twilight forever. My chair pirouetted and skittered across the floor as I spun from the seat. I dropped the knife, was half across the room before I heard it clatter on the table and then I was burying my face in her coat.

“No, no, no, you have to be real this time,” I knotted my fingers in her mane, “don’t go, don’t be another dream.”

“Hey there!” she laughed, “what a welcome! It’s good to see you again.”

She kissed my lips and I began to believe she was really back.

“It’s really you at last? I’m awake?” I released one hand from her mane and slapped myself in the side of my face. Hard. Hard enough to see stars, to leave my fingers stinging. “Not a dream,” I muttered, half staggered by the impact.

“Tangent!” She was startled by the ferocity of my self-check “I can tell something is badly wrong but I can’t put my hoof on it yet. Was it too long, did you give up on me, is there somepony else? Do you still love me?”

“Oh, Twilight, my Twilight. Yes I still love you, yes, yes and still more yessy-yessing. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’m not upset, angry or hurt about the time we’ve been apart. But there will be no denying that I have changed – I hope you find that you still love me.”

“Changed how?”

“Tell me, what’s the last thing you remember before we were parted?”

“We were genderswapped, I was riding you hard—” a hint of blush shew on her purple cheeks “—I was coming in you, oh I was coming so hard, it was like nothing I ever experienced before, I never knew what it was like for a stallion before, I was pumping you full of seed, my love. And then Celestia opened the dark portal and you fell through.” She was ashamed. “Maybe if I had been less focused on owning your plot and defying Celestia I could have been paying attention to what spell she was casting. I’ve been obsessing over my mistakes for all these weeks we’ve been apart.”

“Hmmmm, weeks? That explains a lot. Rather, confirms it.” I squeezed her harder. “I need you, Twilight. Really need you. Badly. But first, there’s something you need to know.”

She looked serious, almost alarmed or afraid of what I might reveal.

“Not the bad stuff.” I gave her a half smile and a kiss on the muzzle. “I can tell you the bad stuff later.” Another kiss. “Give me a smile and we’ll start with the good news.” I smiled for real now. “Really.” I nodded vigorously, I must have looked half crazed. “This is good.”

Twilight ventured a small smile.

“Really good,” I insisted, and she cautiously allowed the corner of her mouth to curve a little further upwards.

I exsinuated myself from the embrace, gestured for Twilight to wait a moment, and stepped down the hall to Gloam’s room.

“Wake up, honey,” I whispered, “your father is here. Time to meet her.”

Gloam woke instantly, launched herself like a silent cannonball into my arms, almost knocked me down. “Oh, you’re so big and strong honey, almost bigger than mommy! Daddy’s going to be so thrilled!” Only eight and change and she was almost as tall as my shoulder.

On whim I grabbed Gloam’s nice cloak, the one coloured like the last traces of sunset at the bottom hem fading upward into stars at the shoulder – kinda like her name. I threw the cloak over her shoulders after she slipped into her black and silver jammies. The ensemble looked so good I grabbed her favorite tiara too. Matte black metal and cheap oversized lunar diamonds, nestled into the peach-fuzz of new hair growing in after the gradeschool gluepocolypse of late unspeakable history. Dame Rarity could scarce have done better – and you only get one chance to make a dazzling first impression.

A kiss on her cheek finished preparations. “Lets go introduce you to Daddy. Curtsy nicely.”

I walked back to the central room of the dom’, holding Gloam’s hand. My heart swelled with love and pride. Our daughter was so wonderful, I knew Twilight was going to love her.

“Oooh! What a pretty human-foal!” Twilight exclaimed. “She looks so much like you, I didn’t know you had a younger sister, too.”

“She is my daughter.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “Who’s her mother?”

“I am. Your spell stayed in effect, I'm still female from your magic.”

It seemed that she had neither noticed the thinly concealed contents of my chemise nor the corresponding lack of bulge to my panties.

I pulled a pout and added, “They’re smallish but I do have boobs,” soto voce.

Twilight was clearly staggered, but her query was insightful.

“Buh? Huh? Wuh?” she asked.

“You,” I beamed. “Congratulations, Princess, you’re a father.”

“Oh. My. Celestia. What. Happen?”

You could have knocked her over with a feather.

Gloam and Twilight stared into each other's eyes, sizing each other up. Gloam solemnly reviewing everything I had ever told her about her father, everything her peers had told her about having a father. And Twilight, her heart visibly melting as she took in the enormity of discovering that she herself was the father of a young filly.

After an endless moment Twilight quietly asked, “Just how much time has passed in your world?”

“Gloam Jet Sparkle,” I said, “allow me the pleasure of presenting your father, Princess Twilight Sparkle. Please tell Daddy how old you are.”

Gloam curtsied, “I am pleased to meet you, father. I turned eight a few months ago. Mommy and I have have lots of fun, but we wish you were with us.”

“Nine years,” the princess said, aghast. “By Tartarus… Oh, Celestia, what hast thou wrought?”

I let go of Gloam’s hand and moved to Twilight’s side – I thought she might faint, but she rallied herself, stood steady on her hooves.

“Gloam Jet Sparkle?” Twilight addressed her daughter for the first time.

Gloam nodded, a hint of smile beginning to break through her solemn mien.

Turning to me Twilight asked, “You named our daughter Gloam Jet Sparkle?”

“The other parent was detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure at the time of naming,” I observed. “I hope you approve.”

Twilight reared, threw her forelegs around us both, pulled Gloam and me into her embrace. “Approve? It’s perfect! She’s perfect! You’re perfect! Gloam, do you want to be a big sister?”

And then she started sobbing.

“Actually,” Gloam fought against weeping, “I rather like being singleton.”

In grade school lore, younger siblings did not capture nearly the same mystique of a father.

At last we were a family, and we dampened the carpet with our tears of joy.

Together.

Author's Note

This chapter marks the start of Arc 4

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