Twilight Sparkle and the Stupid Original Pony

“The duocorn,” Celestia confessed, “she told me everything.”

Her sin would have shocked most ponies to the core – if they even dared to believe in such a purveyor of forbidden knowledge.

“Sooooo—” Twilight pondered the implications, mentally shelving some for later discussion. It wasn’t the largest matter outstanding between them. The topic of medication, that she would demand answer when the time was right. An angry confrontation now would not help her be an effective researcher and her goal must be priority one. But the revelation certainly explained why there was nothing written about this particular prophesy. Twilight chose her words carefully lest she betray her own guilt. It was damning enough that she didn’t bother pretending not to believe in the rumored seer’s existence. “—that creature is really as old as ponies say it is?”

The twin-horned blasphemy could hardly be termed a pony and Twilight was unwilling to extend the courtesy of a gendered pronoun to something that was an affront to life itself. Memory of her own consultation with it sickened her.

“I was young, and she was already older than the hills. Of course I knew better when I questioned her, but I did so.”

“You choose to believe its words?”

“She doesn’t lie, Twilight, chancy as her advice may be.”

“I see,” Twilight grated. She didn’t want to believe what she had been told. “What did it tell you?”

“You know most of it already. A hero will rise—” Celestia gestured at Twilight with one hoof and then bowed to her “—she will take a lover from another world. They will be separated. Depending on the outcome, doom or hope.”

Twilight tilted her head in further inquiry.

“Fate will hang in the balance and his hoof may tilt the scale one way or the other.”

“But how? He’s just an earthpony.”

“And we have seen what can happen when he tampers with your power.”

“I won’t let it happen again.”

“What if he catalyzes your fall to evil?”

“That will not happen.”

The fierce light that flashed in Twilight’s eyes brooked no argument.

“Little one,” Celestia said, “never, ever let go of that fire and perhaps all my fears will be for naught.”

There was a wise sadness in her words.

“Celestia?”

“Yes, Twilight?”

“Tell me a story.”

“What?”

“Like you did when I was little. Let us set weighty matters aside for a brief moment, and you can tell me a story.”

“Yes. I think I would like that. But since you are a grown up mare, and no longer a precocious little filly, I will tell you something a little more daring than I ever have before.”

“Oh goody!”

For the moment Twilight really was setting her worries aside.

“Long ago, centuries, I had an intimate relationship with a baron. His baronial seat was a tiny castle, on a tiny island, in a large green lake, in the north country of Equestria. Lovely countryside. I enjoyed visiting him there to escape the bustle and politics and drama.”

“He was a good pony. A bit blunt, but he was exactly what I needed at that time. He helped pull me out of a long, dark, depression. We were political allies and eventually ended up between the sheets.”

“Was he any good in the sack?”

“Quite. Not overly romantic, not fussy and fancy about technique, but energetic. His preferred M.O. was to get me off, usually more than once, and then to, eh, go crazy, as it were. Very energetic. Most satisfactory. He was never my formal consort, but we were an open secret.”

“He was a widower, incidentally. We were not cheating on anypony.”

“And then suddenly there was a war, and I was busy, busy, busy with both the naval buildup and the political aftermath, it all seemed to drag on forever. Finally I managed to sneak away in hope of a pleasant diversion. I could, of course, have done so sooner, but I am not utterly irresponsible in matters of state. I took the old teleporter to the abandoned castle I once shared with my sister, galloped through the Everfree forest, and flew north. The moon was full, the night breezes were sweet under my wings, and my heart beat with eagerness to see an old friend and frankly to take care of a growing physical hunger. As I descended, I saw that his window was open to the night air and moonlight. I lit soundlessly into his bedchamber. Before he could so much as stir, I was upon him! Our lips met, and events proceeded as per nature. Soon his, eh, ‘lofty tower’ was quite fervent in its heat and he mounted me without so much as a word exchanged between us.”

“I was pleased that he might choose to go first this time. I certainly had not meant to neglect him in pursuit of my royal obligations and felt a twinge of guilt as he took me. Did I say that he was energetic? Mighty indeed was he that night and I partook, gladly, of his passion. At last he sprawled, breathless, at my back.”

“‘My dear Baldric,’ I said to him, ‘how enthusiastic you are tonight. That was delightful.’”

Twilight nodded her head as she eagerly followed the story.

“And then he said to me, ‘Baldric, my grand-sire, is twenty years in his grave. But who are you, lady?’”

“Oh, no!”

“Yes, I’m afraid it is so.”

“No, no, no, no, it can’t be, that’s awful!”

“Indeed. I never thought I’d be the kind of ruler who despoiled virgins on the eve of their wedding.”

“He wasn’t!”

“As it happens, he was.”

“How did his fiancé react?”

“Well, he snuck out into the night and spirited her out from under the very noses of her father and his stallions, and brought her hither to his bed. He confessed there that he sinned against her, and I too apologized, swearing that I had thought to find the young baron’s grandsire reposing therein when I went in unto him. She was willing to forgive him, and not break off their engagement.”

“Good, good, I’m glad it didn’t ruin everything for them.”

“But only if I would do her, too.”

“What! Of course not, you didn’t!”

“Of course, I did.”

“Really?”

“Both of them, all night. Morning found the three of us, unslumbered, full atangle in the ruins of his linens. ‘You have not named yourself, lady,’ he said, ‘let us have a look at you, nymph or goddess, whomever you be.’”

“You never told them?”

“We had been otherwise agreeably occupied. And as dawn was now just slightly overdue, it was still quite dim in the room. I stood at the foot of the bed with the window at my back, spread my wings, and raised the sun behind me.”

Twilight’s jaw dropped.

“Oh.”

She could hardly form words.

“My.”

Finally she spat out a breathless question.

“Whatdidtheydo?”

“Surprise, of course, would be an understatement. When I finally convinced them to stop apologizing, for I know not what sin, they asked how they might serve me me. I demanded that they love each other as truly as the love I had just seen, for so long as they lived.”

“Awww, nice.”

“And I am pleased to report that they did so.”

“What’s the moral of the story, Princess?”

“Er, it was just a thing that happened, my dear, there wasn’t really a moral—”

“I.D. the male,
before you flag your tail!”

the younger princess sang out.

Celestia’s laughter was like music and it hardly seemed possible that the two princesses could be at loggerheads.

“Perfect, my dear student, that must be the moral of the tale, or perhaps the moral of the tail. Are you satisfied by my telling?”

“I am, thank you for the story. We do have other matters to speak seriously about, Princess, but now is not the time.”

“Yes, Twilight.”

“After I have done what I must…” She left the rest unsaid.

“Again I say, wait as the prophesy commands and I will tear down the barrier spell with my own hooves. Neigh, in two fours less one of years, the spell will collapse of its own accord.”

“Still with the seven years?”

Twilight’s smile was broad but one eye twitched erratically.

“Certes, our love would endure such a delay.”

And then she laughed long, and long, and loud.

When her laughter quieted she continued, “but I dast not avow o’er much of our sanity.”

Celestia shivered. If only she could count on sufficient delay. Passing that one hurdle would free her of all doubt.