Perfection is in the eye of the beholder. Or is it beauty? Twilight Sparkle finds that she's not quite able to tell the difference anymore. Luckily, Princess Celestia is there to help her.
Perfection is in the eye of the beholder. Or is it beauty? Twilight Sparkle finds that she's not quite able to tell the difference anymore. Luckily, Princess Celestia is there to help her.
“Oh Twilight, don’t let their expectations pressure you into–”
”But it’s my duty as your student to live up to their expectations, Princess. After all, you’re per–”
The feather-light touch of Celestia’s finger upon her lips silences her. The last word dies on her lips as a blush that almost matches the magenta stripe in her hair spreads over her cheeks. Twilight looks down to where the finger rests against her lips, not quite able to wrap her mind around the sensations rushing through her body at the contact.
Then she looks up towards her princess’ face. Her expression is unreadable.
“Be careful, my faithful student. Perfection is a strong word,” there is a slight pause in which Twilight doesn’t dare breathe, her gaze locked with the princess’ in a clash of mauve. “And I am undeserving of it.”
Glazed as she is from the long eye-contact, it takes Twilight a few seconds to process her words. When she does, she opens her mouth in protest, and only then does she realize her mistake. Luckily the princess is mindful enough to pull her finger back before it can slip inside, for which Twilight is grateful. There is no way she could’ve handled that.
“But Princess Celestia! If anyone is worthy of such a term, it would surely be you.”
“Ah, but you forget, Twilight, that I too make mistakes. Granted not as often as you and your friends, for time is a wise and patient teacher, but regardless, I am fated to make wrong choices and judgments just as anyone else.”
Twilight opens her mouth, then closes it again, repeating the process a few times before letting a stubborn pout settle on her face, accompanied by the crossing of her arms, that says that she does not agree with her statement. The corner of Celestia’s mouth lifts upward and there is a decisively humorous glimmer in her eyes that only fuels Twilight’s stubbornness.
“Perfection is in the eye of the beholder,” she manages to grind out, knowing full well that her argument is flawed, not to mention that winning an argument against Equestria’s Sun Princess is an impossible task for even the smartest of people.
Besides, Twilight cannot claim to know everything there is to know about the Princess of the Sun. She has, of course, read all the history books about her mentor with avid curiosity, but there is only so much of history that has been immortalized in ink, and the princess came to long before the first history books were written. Besides, her true age remains unknown, even to the princess herself.
“Now, Twilight, I think the quote says ‘beauty’ and not ‘perfection’.”
There it is, that small laugh that can melt away all of her worries and troubles any day. Not the refined laugh reserved for the court or the noblemen and noblewomen of Canterlot, but the warm, honest laugh that is so rarely heard within the castle walls. Twilight takes a small pride in knowing that aside from the princess’ own sister, Princess Luna, she is the only other person who has managed to trigger it.
“Either would work.”
The words tumble from her lips in a quiet mumble before she can register them, and her hands springs up to clasp her mouth shut as the rosy shade on her cheeks darken even further. Celestia’s eyes widen in surprise so briefly that Twilight barely catches it, before narrowing in a way that cannot be labeled as anything but ‘mischievous’.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Could you please repeat that, Twilight dear?”
The quirking of her lips and the slyness of her tone tell Twilight everything she needs to know. She was doing perfectly fine with digging her own grave, but it seems the princess has decided to give her a helping hand in digging an even deeper one. Twilight turns and angles her body sideways, the burning of her cheeks demanding some semblance of space between them.
Knowing that she cannot ignore a request from the princess, however indirect, she repast the words, though her voice are too low for even her own ears to register.
“Come again?”
A sudden jolt of electricity travels along the length of her spine as arms encircle her waist, and a chin drops onto her left shoulder from behind. A wingtip tickles the underside of one of her arms, and Twilight tenses all over, suddenly finding it very difficult to breathe.
When Celestia blows lightly and entirely purposefully against her cheek, Twilight almost become undone as her breath tickles along her jawline and down her neck. All of a sudden the room feels too hot, too cramped.
“I-I said,” here she pauses, licking her lips and trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “Either would work.”
“Hmm,” the princess hums, so close to her ear that Twilight can almost feel the reverberations; a sensation that is entirely too pleasing. “So what you’re saying, my faithful student, is that you find me attractive.”
The emphasis on her cherished nickname (for it is more than just a mere title) coupled with the implication takes away what little of her composure that has remained intact so far. When she speaks again, her voice is the perfect imitation of Fluttershy.
“Y-yes, Princess,” she all but squeaks, and though the princess’ statement requires no actual reply, she steels herself and voice what she’s been thinking for years now. “Y-you’re, umm... very beautiful.”
The laugh that follows is amused, but carries not an ounce of mockery. It is followed up by a pair of soft, soft lips that presses lightly against her cheek in a chaste kiss that is all too brief, yet still sends Twilight’s mind reeling.
Did the princess really just-
“Please, Twilight, you of all people should be the one to call me by my name rather than my title.”
With those words and a small squeeze of the arms still circling her waist, Celestia steps back. Chill air rushes in to fill the sudden space between them, and the intensity of the moment fades, leaving a decisively flustered Twilight with temporarily limited brain capacity.
“I-if you insist, Pri- I m-mean, C-celestia.”
Twilight winces inwardly at her stuttering, trying and failing to remember the last time she’s sounded like such a fool. Celestia, however, only smiles at her. Normally this would calm her, but the smile currently residing on the princess’ lips are not the usual gentle one, but one of a decisively predatory nature. At least she thinks that’s the case, for the smile is soon replaced by her trademark smile of kindness.
“I insist. Now, I bid you a good night, my faithful student.”
There is a brief flash of light signaling the princess’ teleported departure, and then Twilight is left alone with her jumbled thoughts and frazzled nerves.
One particular thought keep running circles in her mind, demanding her attention.
How does Celestia manage to make such an endearing term sound so alluring at the same time?
“Oh Twilight, don’t let their expectations pressure you into–”
”But it’s my duty as your student to live up to their expectations, Princess. After all, you’re per–”
The feather-light touch of Celestia’s hoof upon her lips silences her. The last word dies on her lips as a blush that almost matches the magenta stripe in her hair spreads over her cheeks. Twilight looks down to where the hoof rests against her lips, not quite able to wrap her mind around the sensations rushing through her body at the contact.
Then she looks up towards her princess’ face. Her expression is unreadable.
“Be careful, my faithful student. Perfection is a strong word,” there is a slight pause in which Twilight doesn’t dare breathe, her gaze locked with the princess’ in a clash of mauve. “And I am undeserving of it.”
Glazed as she is from the long eye-contact, it takes Twilight a few seconds to process her words. When she does, she opens her mouth in protest, and only then does she realize her mistake. Luckily the princess is mindful enough to pull her hoof back before it can slip inside, for which Twilight is grateful. There is no way she could’ve handled that.
“But Princess Celestia! If anyone is worthy of such a term, it would surely be you.”
“Ah, but you forget, Twilight, that I too make mistakes. Granted not as often as you and your friends, for time is a wise and patient teacher, but regardless, I am fated to make wrong choices and judgments just as anyone else.”
Twilight opens her mouth, then closes it again, repeating the process a few times before letting a stubborn pout settle on her face, accompanied by the crossing of her forelegs, that says that she does not agree with her statement. The corner of Celestia’s mouth lifts upward and there is a decisively humorous glimmer in her eyes that only fuels Twilight’s stubbornness.
“Perfection is in the eye of the beholder,” she manages to grind out, knowing full well that her argument is flawed, not to mention that winning an argument against Equestria’s Sun Princess is an impossible task for even the smartest of people.
Besides, Twilight cannot claim to know everything there is to know about the Princess of the Sun. She has, of course, read all the history books about her mentor with avid curiosity, but there is only so much of history that has been immortalized in ink, and the princess came to long before the first history books were written. Besides, her true age remains unknown, even to the princess herself.
“Now, Twilight, I think the quote says ‘beauty’ and not ‘perfection’.”
There it is, that small laugh that can melt away all of her worries and troubles any day. Not the refined laugh reserved for the court or the noblemen and noblewomen of Canterlot, but the warm, honest laugh that is so rarely heard within the castle walls. Twilight takes a small pride in knowing that aside from the princess’ own sister, Princess Luna, she is the only other person who has managed to trigger it.
“Either would work.”
The words tumble from her lips in a quiet mumble before she can register them, and her front hooves springs up to clasp her mouth shut as the rosy shade on her cheeks darken even further. Celestia’s eyes widen in surprise so briefly that Twilight barely catches it, before narrowing in a way that cannot be labeled as anything but ‘mischievous’.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Could you please repeat that, Twilight dear?”
The quirking of her lips and the slyness of her tone tell Twilight everything she needs to know. She was doing a perfectly good job of digging her own grave, but it seems the princess has decided to give her a helping hand in digging an even deeper one. Twilight turns and angles her body sideways, the burning of her cheeks demanding some semblance of space between them.
Knowing that she cannot ignore a request from the princess, however indirect, she repast the words, though her voice are too low for even her own ears to register.
“Come again?”
A sudden jolt of electricity travels along the length of her spine as leg drapes over her withers, and a face settles next to her own. A wingtip tickles the side of her body as it folds over her, and Twilight tenses all over, suddenly finding it very difficult to breathe.
When Celestia blows lightly and entirely purposefully against her cheek, Twilight almost come undone as her breath tickles along her muzzle and down her neck. All of a sudden the room feels too hot, too cramped.
“I-I said,” here she pauses, licking her lips and trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “Either would work.”
“Hmm,” the princess hums, so close to her ear that Twilight can almost feel the reverberations; a sensation that is entirely too pleasing. “So what you’re saying, my faithful student, is that you find me attractive.”
The emphasis on her cherished nickname (for it is more than just a mere title) coupled with the implication takes away what little of her composure that has remained intact so far. When she speaks again, her voice is the perfect imitation of Fluttershy.
“Y-yes, Princess,” she all but squeaks, and though the princess’ statement requires no actual reply, she steels herself and voices what she’s been thinking for years now. “Y-you’re, umm... very beautiful.”
The laugh that follows is amused, but carries not an ounce of mockery. It is followed up by a pair of soft, soft lips that press lightly against her cheek in a chaste kiss that is all too brief, yet still sends Twilight’s mind reeling.
Did the princess really just-
“Please, Twilight, you of all people should be the one to call me by my name rather than my title.”
With those words and a small squeeze of the leg around her withers, Celestia steps back. Chill air rushes in to fill the sudden space between them, and the intensity of the moment fades, leaving a decisively flustered Twilight with temporarily limited brain capacity.
“I-if you insist, Pri- I m-mean, C-celestia.”
Twilight winces inwardly at her stuttering, trying and failing to remember the last time she sounded like such a fool. Celestia, however, only smiles at her. Normally this would calm her, but the smile currently residing on the princess’ lips are not the usual gentle one, but one of a decisively predatory nature. At least she thinks that’s the case, for the smile is soon replaced by her trademark smile of kindness.
“I insist. Now, I bid you a good night, my faithful student.”
There is a brief flash of light signaling the princess’ teleported departure, and then Twilight is left alone with her jumbled thoughts and frazzled nerves.
One particular thought keep running circles in her mind, demanding her attention.
How does Celestia manage to make such an endearing term sound so alluring at the same time?