In her dreams, Twilight failed to skip rocks.

The lake again. The full moon again. Of course it was the full moon. She could change it to daylight if she truly wanted, but she’d end up looking out at the blazing sun. Somehow that was worse.

She wanted to be alone. Why couldn’t anypony see that? Why was it that everypony seemed to want to give their opinions on how her life had gone?

It’d be better for everypony if she was alone. If she had time to process everything.

If she could ever process any of this.

Right on cue, she felt the darkness next to her shift, taking the form of another pony. She didn’t need to look over to know who it was. There wasn’t exactly a surplus of dreamwalking alicorns.

“Go away, Luna,” Twilight muttered. “Listen to me, just… go away. Leave me alone.”

The pony next to her said nothing, though she felt her mother pick up one of the skipping stones in her hooves, before sending it sailing across the lake.

“You’re not going to bond with me over being shit at skipping rocks, you know. I’m not in the mood.”

The rock made contact with the water’s surface, and began to skip across it quickly. Then, suddenly, it changed direction, skipping about in a little pattern before reaching one final arcing, spinning, and depositing itself into the lake without so much as a splash.

Eyes widening, she turned over to look at the alicorn next to her. Only it wasn’t an alicorn, or even a mare.

“I’m many things kiddo, but I don’t think I’ve ever been a shitty rock-skipper,” the light blue stallion in front of her said.

She paused, the logical part of her mind seizing control from the rest of its mental crewmates, who were all currently undergoing a collective heart attack made from panic and disbelief. Cold logic gripped the steering wheel and made for the closest port of inquiry it could see.

“Hold on,” Twilight glared at him. “The word ‘kiddo’ wouldn’t have existed a thousand years ago, and your enunciation of modern Ponish is flawless. That can’t be right.”

“I haven’t got much experience, but I can say firsthand that one’s got to roll with the anachronisms when dealing with this kind of thing,” he inspected his hooves, looking smug about it. “The details are certainly right.”

“Then you’re… Some kind of memory? A construct? Just a fancy prerecorded message, like The Chineighse Room?”

“Now that was always an interesting thought experiment to me, which is also interesting because the entire concept didn’t exist when I was alive, still,” the stallion responded. “A construct in one room with an infinite supply of prewritten responses to whatever you ask it, right? Not precisely the case but it makes me think: if the machine has the appearance of communicating, what kind of personality does it have?”

Twilight paused, the shock of… any of this getting lost in the concept of a new philosophical puzzle to figure out. “I suppose that’d come down to the personality of… whoever… wrote the original responses.”

Her eyes widened. The stallion— her father— grinned in response. “Smart girl.”

“You’re him…” Twilight breathed, tears beginning to fall from her eyes. “You’re really here.”

“If we’re going to get technical, we’re nowhere. I’m your mother’s dream construct with an hour of a pony’s life and memories stapled onto it. But I think that’s good enough.”

With something that was halfway between a sob and a cry of joy, Twilight rushed at her father, tackling him to the ground. She had gained a few inches in height since her alicorn ascension, but even without that she probably would have been taller than the stallion before her.

But that just meant it was that much easier to wrap her wings around him.

“Stars kiddo, you’ve gotten so much bigger. Last time I saw you you were just a little thing. And also not born yet. And not an alicorn.”

“I-I’ve gone through some…” Twilight sniffled. “It’s been a long year. You know?” Her brow wrinkled, suddenly realizing something.

“An hour? J-just an hour?”

“A moment for a moment, your mother once said. There were five minutes catching up with her, so a little less than an hour now,” He smiled. “I’m gonna take a guess and say you know the spell.”

“But that’s— that’s not enough time!”

“Five minutes with Luna weren't enough, an hour with you will never be enough. But I'm good at improvising.”

“Wish I had some of that,” Twilight sighed. “It'd be helpful right about now.”

“We juggle the balls we've got, sweetie. Speaking of which, you said you were a shitty rock skipper?”

“I—” Twilight looked down. “Yes.”

He picked up a rock, passing it to her. Wordlessly, she turned out towards the shore, the rock levitating in her magic. But before she could let it fly, Peritwinkle put a hoof on her shoulder, making motions with his free foreleg.

“Pitch it up two degrees, then flatten out your roll three.”

She adjusted and Peritwinkle whistled, impressed.

“Not bad. You've got a born sense of spatial awareness kiddo. Should be good. Now… let it fly.”

Twilight hesitated, looking down at the stallion next to her. He nodded, giving her an assuring smile. For some reason, it filled her with confidence.

Her horn flashed and the rock accelerated far across the water. It skipped once, twice, thrice, four times before disappearing into the dark of the lake.

She did it.

“I… did it.”

“You did.”

“I did it!”

“Yes.”

“I skipped my first rock!” Twilight bounced around like a happy schoolfilly, the simple joy of success giving way to the first good mood she’d had in what felt like ages.

Which, paradoxically, just made her upset again. She stopped bouncing, wings and ears drooping.

“What’s wrong, Twilight? It was a good skip.”

“It’s just…” She pawed at the beach, looking downcast. “That’s not how any of this went, did it? I could’ve grown up normally, no lies or secret heritage to worry about. Luna could’ve been happy, everything would have worked out, and I’d have skipped rocks as a filly. But it didn’t go like that.”

“You grew up with a family that loved you.”

“A family who lied to me! Celestia lied to me, Twilight Velvet and Night Light lied to me! Even Shining Armor lied to me!”

“And Luna?

“Luna wasn’t there. She’s been missing in my life for a thousand years! Pinkie keeps saying I can love all my family, but I’m stuck between ones that can’t tell the truth and the ones that can't be around. That’s what I am. Stuck.”

Peritwinkle scratched his chin in thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“For a mare who’s what, the princess of knowledge? Princess of books? Whichever? For a mare with all that knowledge, it’s surprising how often and much you’re wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” Twilight was giving her father an indignant look. One that said that while she was excited to see him, that did come with conditions. Delicate, parental conditions.

“Wrong about pretty much everything you just said. And I can prove it. Up for an experiment?”

Twilight’s ears perked up, though her eyes narrowed. “What kind of experiment?”

“Well right now I'm essentially a dadly Tantabus—”

“A what?”

“Doesn't matter, the point is I've got enough of Luna’s magic fueling me that I've got some control over the dreamscape. If you'll allow me?”

Twilight nodded, a little confused as Peritwinkle kneeled to the ground, holding still. Suddenly the dream went dark, the beach fading and instead being replaced by her study in Canterlot Castle.

“Okay so that’s how you call them up. But how do I… Maybe it’s something that would resonate with me personally?”

“Are you trying to control the dream?” asked Twilight. “I’m not sure how I could teach you to do that if you’re not a unicorn.”

Suddenly, a small ball of light formed in the center of the room. Both father and daughter tilted their heads quizzically at it.

“You meant to do that, right?”

“Not exactly. I need to find a way to… Hmm… Maybe if I just… There we go!”

The world shifted, the ball of light flying into his hoof as he tossed it up. The landscape turned surreal as it rose, playing back something that seemed distinctly familiar. It was her parent’s house, wasn’t it? That was her, on the floor. She was just a foal, but she was…

“Me taking my first steps? It’s a memory?” Twilight nodded.

“They’re all memories. Or moments, when you couldn’t be in a position to remember them. All of them.”

“All of them?”

Peritwinkle threw his hooves up again, another orb of light shifting the landscape. Lost teeth, passed tests, sleepless nights, lazy summer evenings. They swirled around her in a tapestry of time. But Twilight just frowned, giving him a confused look.

Her father winked in response .“Look in the background, kiddo.”

Twilight squinted, trying to figure out what he meant. Then gasped. It was pretty easy to figure out, once you knew what to look for.

The moon.

In every scene from her life, the moon was there.

The evening moon shining bright as she took her first steps. Her first word (“Book!”) proudly announced in front of a warm winter fire, the window curtains behind her drawn back to display a sparkling crescent moon smiling down at her.

Studying for her entrance exam by moonlight.

Sleeping softly in a castle, bathed in a lunar glow.

“C-could…” Twilight began to choke up. “Could she see me?”

“Always. You think she doesn’t know you. But she does. Every night, she watched you. And she’s not the only pony.”

More scenes flew through his hooves. Twilight Velvet rocking a foal in her forelegs, humming a lullaby as best she could through joyful tears. Twilight opening a present containing her first encyclopedia on Hearth’s Warming. Her father pointing out constellations in a telescope as she gasped at each adjustment. Her and her brother, flying kites.

“Velvet and Night Light never told you you weren’t their daughter, because you are their daughter.”

Celestia helping her up the high steps of Canterlot Castle. Celestia comforting her, her first terrifying night there, the first time away from her parents. The joy in the Princess’ eyes when a lesson would click, tears of joy as she read her letters from Ponyville.

Damned if there weren’t tears in her eyes too.

“You’ve always had family. They’ve never lied about that.”

Twilight was sobbing, weeping, eyes wide as every scene swirled around them, the small stallion at the center, moving them around like he was juggling them.

“Your mothers, both of them, love you. Your fathers, both of them, adore you. You’re not stuck, not in the least. Whatever comes, you can move forward.”

Twilight’s sniffled. “I think I’ve burned too many bridges for that. I’ve never seen Pinkie that upset before.”

“Oh-ho, Pinkie eh,” Peritwinkle gave her a knowing smirk. “After all that, Pinkie Pie, who I’ve heard so much about, is the first pony you’re concerned about, is it?”

“D-dad!” Twilight blushed, both at the accusation and how easily she used the title.

“I’ve waited a thousand years to meet you, little star. That makes me more than entitled and long overdue to embarrass you about your romantic pursuits. I’d be a poor excuse for a father otherwise.”

“I guess…” Twilight cast her head downwards. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Maybe I did, but I said a lot of things that I shouldn’t have said. What could I even say to her at this point?”

“A Fool knows a Fool, sweetheart,” Periwinkle tossed another rock across the lake, which kept skipping and skipping until it was lost beyond the lunar horizon. “And what a Fool cares about more than anything is sincerity. Tell her how you feel. Be honest, and you’ll find that bridge you’re crossing wasn’t burned at all.”

“But after everything I said—”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged.

“But it should!” she shouted.

“But it won’t, it never will. There are so many ponies in your life that care about you, perhaps more than you realize. Do you think all our hearts are so small that we’d ever stop loving you?”

Twilight began to tear up again. This time, her father pulled her in for a tight hug, managing as best he could to get his forelegs around her.

“When you’re dead like me, you start to realize how precious every moment spent with your loved ones is. Even an hour, even five minutes. But if you don’t forgive, if you don’t trust, you won't be able to spend those moments,” he pulled back, tears in his own eyes. “And it sounds like Pinkie Pie especially is worth forgiving.”

“She makes me laugh,” Twilight admitted, finally.

“Sounds like she's a real keeper.”

“She’s really good at throwing pies. I heard you like that.”

“And she's got good taste! Obviously,” he winked again. “Tell her she’s got my blessing. Not like there isn’t precedent for a Fool and a Princess together. Probably a written rule in some Princess Romance Law manual about that.”

He slapped his hoof to his forehead.

“Fuck me, I almost forgot!”

“Language!”

“Sorry, honey, this is really important. You know where the original royal castle is? The Castle of the Two Sisters, I believe they call it? It was honestly just called The Castle back in my day.”

Twilight nodded.

“Good. Listen closely: there’s something I made for you, a long time ago. I’m going to guess the castle is in ruins, but I paid a heavy sack of bits on my deathbed to have a unicorn spell it up and hide it. Damn thing should be nearly indestructible if it’s still underneath a cobblestone with a P on it in the castle’s organ room.”

“A gift?”

He grinned. “I had managed to finish it before you were born. A bit of a masterpiece, if I say so myself. I’ll let it be a surprise though. Just remember it!”

“I will!”

He nodded, unfinished business finished. “You know, limited time or not, it is good to know that all those essays I wrote are appreciated these days.”

“Pinkie says they consider your comedic groundwork on par with Prancing Bacon.”

“Oh, I hope not. That stallion always smelled weirdly like soap.”

“Wait you— You knew him?” Twilight’s jaw dropped, then she shut her mouth, blushing. “Sorry, that’s probably off topic.”

“Off topic?” Peritwinkle sat down, grinning harder. “Kiddo, after waiting a millennium to meet you, there’s nothing I’d rather do right now then just talk.”

He paused, the dream shifting again. A small bag appeared by his legs. “Well that’s not entirely true. There is something, probably more than anything, that I’ve wanted to do with you.”

“What’s that?”

He reached into the bag, and pulled out a small red rubber ball.

“Want to find out if juggling skills are genetic or not? We can compare notes.”

Author's Note

Alright, we got the final chapter plus the epilogue to go. Probably do those as a single update.

Thanks to Trolleytrainer for the proofread.