//------------------------------// // Touring // Story: Love, or Twilight Learns That Joy Wants Eternity // by Cynewulf //------------------------------// Twilight grinned. “So… working lunch?” “Indeed,” Celestia groused. Stacked somewhat precariously on top of the ornate table were several stacks of manilla folders brimming with papers. Twilight had already started tabbing through the pages, looking for the more urgent things and setting them aside. Mostly, the folders were filled with reports. Committee proceedings, general assembly minutes, some analysis from her staff on current and upcoming legislation. Others were requests or ongoing communiques from the leaders of the largest cities. Others Twilight had no idea about at all, and those she left alone. “Don’t your staff sort these?” Twilight asked, but without any heat. “Goodness, it’s chaos here…” Celestia sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Twilight.” Twilight blinked and looked up. They were sitting in one of the many smaller dining chambers that the palace had to offer. This was a rather modest one, no gilded surfaces or ornate art to hang. Twilight liked it, in a distant way. It didn’t distract. “Whatever for?” Twilight asked. “It’s just paperwork. It’s not like you can stop doing that.” Celestia winced as she helped sort, and Twilight wondered if she had said the wrong thing. “I suppose that I cannot, even when I wish to so very much.” The Princess rested her head on a hoof and hummed. “I had hoped to spend the day with you, Twilight.” Twilight smiled. “Well, I’m here regardless. I’m not going anywhere.” “No matter how boring this is?” “Boring? I’m not sure I could be bored with you,” Twilight said, and then coughed. “Anyway, I’m still here, and I don’t think either of us will be absorbed to the point of not being able to talk. I know it’s not what you wanted, but we can still make a day of it.” Celestia laid out as much as she could on the table and whined. It was a stunning sight. “But I don’t want to make a day of it.” Twilight chuckled. “Shouldn’t I be the one doing that?” “I miss the old days when I ruled by fiat. The only paperwork was dictating to a scribe while I was fed grapes and selected from my full harem of beauties.” She sighed mightily. “Those were the days of my halcyon glory.” “You never had a harem,” Twilight said flatly. “Tell me stories, then. I’ll take over a bit. You could use a break. Just pay me back with some stories.” Celestia was silent. It took Twilight a moment for that silence to register. “You… didn’t have one of those, right?” “It was a very different time,” Celestia murmured, head on the table. She straightened, and cleared her throat. “Besides, they did the one thing that I am most weak to in this world.” Twilight, somewhere between amused and dismayed, asked the obvious. “And that is?” “Preening,” Celestia said, for an instant relaxing with a distant look on her face. “Do you know how hard it is to find someone who doesn’t die of fright because I ask them to preen my wings?” Twilight blinked. Then she laughed. “You could have just asked me!” Celestia looked at her, flushed, and looked away. “I suppose I could have, but it’s a bit different.” “Bad different?” “No. No, not at all.” They continued to work with Celestia continuing to tell stories, the rustle of papers and quiet murmurings that drifted in from outside drowned out by Twilight’s laughter and eager questions. Slowly the messy piles began to change into orderly filed papers. * Twilight stretched, and did so reluctantly. She’d made good progress, and heard more of her own country’s history in the last hour than some historians found in years. As much as she was eager to learn more, there was something strangely calming about listening to Celestia’s voice as she worked. It was the almost thoughtless way in which her body moved without her, letting her mind somehow focus more fully not so much on the words Celestia delivered but the timbre of her voice. Celestia had a wonderful voice. Deeper than her own, richer by far. Melodic like a song and soft like a silk robe. It reminded her of a fireplace, sometimes, like the one that Celestia had in her suite. Warm and dancing with barely contained life. “Can I ask you a question?” “Always and forever.” “It’s about… uh, the dreams.” Celestia hummed and her horn lit lightly. Twilight didn’t have to call on her own magic to know what her lover was doing. Noise-cancellation. It was odd to think of herself as a pony who had conversations so private and serious they needed to be hidden, but the world had changed. “Tell me.” Celestia paused. “Or do not. Be vague, if you wish. You should not reveal what you do not wish to reveal.” Twilight frowned. “What? Why wouldn’t I? I mean, you and the others are the only ones who would understand.” Celestia sighed. “It is… a private thing. No, that isn’t true. It is a bit complicated.” Celestia gestured to herself. “Once, only Luna and myself knew the courts. Our courts were own, very different from each others’. We visited, or rather Luna visited, and sometimes whisked me away to her own realm. I have never managed to acquire the knack for flitting from dream to dream that she has.” “And then there was Cadance. And me,” Twilight added. “So, there’s not much precedent.” Celestia nodded. “Right, as ever. The precedent between us does not neccessarily apply to the two of you. We were sisters.” Suddenly, she smiled. “Though, I suppose the two of you are very close. Close enough that you might as well be siblings.” “In our way,” Twilight allowed, also smiling. “Well, for what it’s worth: I trust you, and I feel comfortable talking about this with you if you’re comfortable hearing it.” “Then I am satisfied. Ask what you would like, and I shall try to answer,” Celestia said. “Leave the papers alone for a bit.” A thought occurred to Twilight “You know, I think we’ve done enough to warrant a real break. Would you like to break for tea? Talk on your balcony, maybe?” Celestia grinned. “You mentioned tea because you thought I would say yes if you did. And you’re right, obviously. I’ll have a tray brought up.” * “So. The Court.” Twilight nodded. “It’s… Well. My dreams have been really strange since it… manifested, I guess? Is that a good word for it?” “It’s as good as any,” Celestia said softly, and floated over a shortbread cookie. “Since it manifested, your dreams have changed. Might I ask how?” Twilight pursed her lips. “It’s hard to explain. Mostly because it makes no sense! I’ve usually remembered my dreams about as easily as ponies normally do. A bit right after a wake up, and then it fades to nothing before noon. They’re usually nonsensical.” Celestia smiled. “And now?” “And now they’re still nonsensical, but they don’t fade. They just… bounce around in my head all day! It’s chaos.” She waved her hooves and scowled. “Their voices echo around in my head.” And they echoed now. “So you can hear their voices distinctly?” Celestia asked. She had been happily snacking, but now she paused. Twilight thought she saw a rather different question behind those eyes, but she answered what was in front of her. “Sort of,” she began. “It’s… Well. Sometimes I hear one or two voices and I can tell who they are. But usually? They drown each other out.” “Is there a difference? At certain times, perhaps?” Twilight nodded. “Well, that’s just when I’m awake. When I’m alone, I can hear them individually and they speak less. There’s less to comment on, if that makes sense. Which of course it does, right, back on target, Twilight. Mostly they just provide commentary. But at night? Dreams. Strange dreams.” “Tell me about them.” Celestia put down her tea and leaned forward slightly, her attention completely on Twilight. So Twilight did. “Each one is different. Sometimes I’m at home, in Canterlot. Sometimes I’m in the observatory tower. Or I’m in the library, before Tirek. Or I’m in my palace. Sugarcube Corner. The human world, once. The only constants are that I know all of them are there, all of my friends, and that I never remember what we talk about.” Celestia hummed. “It sounds as if they are determining what sort of Court you shall have. Not just the idiom, for that changes. But the dynamic. The dynamic tends to remain.” “What do you mean?” Twilight said, arching an eyebrow. But Celestia hummed to herself and looked out over the city. Twilight watched her, waiting for her to speak. Some thought was on her mind, some word right on the edge of her lips, and Twilight wanted to hear it. And a bit, she was thinking about herself. About Celestia. About Them. It was still strange, yes, but there was more to the thoughts that slowly rolled about in her mind. What really made a relationship romantic? Friendship she felt like she had a grasp on—understand? Never, not really, it was far beyond her to plumb its depths in even a few years’ time—but this was… new. The way they were now. Was this romantic? It seemed like a conversation they could have had any time before, normal. Did romantic excitement seep into everything? Was it some all-encompassing thing? She’d expected it to be like that, and sometimes it was. In that moment, as she watched Celestia, Twilight felt a warmth in her chest. It wasn’t a great flood of emotion, and it wasn’t anything grand by any stretch of the imagination. It was closer to mere affection than to anything she had read about in books. She reached over and touched Celestia’s hoof. “Thank you,” she said. Celestia looked back at her, and then down at their hooves. “You’re welcome, dearest. Though, what have I done?” “Just listening,” Twilight said. “While I ramble.” “You’re not rambling,” Celestia said. “And I’m glad that you feel comfortable talking about it, to be frank with you.” She chuckled. “You’ve handled it far better than Cadance did.” “Really?” “Oh, absolutely. You’ve been a bit befuddled, yes, but I expected that. It’s normal and natural. Cadance was rather distraught.” Celestia paused, and then frowned slightly. “You would tell me if you felt overwhelmed, wouldn’t you?” “I would. I promise.” “Good.” They sat in a comfortable silence for a time. Work was forgotten. Twilight didn’t think of it at all, or really anything at all but how nice the air was. “A thought comes to mind,” Celestia said eventually. “Share it?” “In a moment. I have a few thoughts. The first is that I would prefer to do the rest of our work later, and would love to retire to the long couch. Is that alright?” Twilight, heart filled with butterflies, laughed. “Sure.” They finished and left everything on the tray before moving back into the royal apartments. The long couch was, well, just that. Plush, opulent, in the old style when unicorn nobles reclined and ate on their sides. She’d always found the idea slightly ridiculous, but there it was. Celestia laid down first and opened her forelegs, and Twilight tried to suppress the giddy grin that bubbled up as she laid down in that embrace. They laid that way peacefully for a while. Celestia did this sometimes, Twilight had discovered. She napped. She napped a lot. It was one of the little things that she’d noticed only after she’d ascended, when much of Celestia’s formal mask had cracked. Left to her own devices, without someone to prod her, Celestia lazed. With Luna and Twilight herself contributing to the flow of work, more and more time had opened up, and with it came ever more tempting moments that could be wasted in indolence. And the patronized daughter of all sunbeams was loathe to waste any opportunity. She’d learned that Celestia would work at night with a glass of scotch, which was surprising for some reason. That she sometimes had trouble sleeping. That she daydreamed. That she teased her servants and inquired after the minutia of their lives to such a degree that more than once she’d found Raven and Celestia happily conversing over the pregnancy or birthday surprise of some maid. Twilight found she liked most of these things. It was a good thing to discover. “I was considering that the best way to become acquainted with your court is to experience it,” Celestia began after a while. “Which I cannot help much with. But I can help in another way. True, you must discover yourself for yourself, but to see how another lives can be beneficial. If it would please you…” She hesitated. Twilight lay still, waiting for the next, but it did not come. She shifted and faced Celestia, who didn’t quite meet her eye. So Twilight did what felt best in the moment. She leaned up and kissed Celestia gently. “What is it?” It felt so forward. Presumptuous, even. But it also felt… nice. Celestia seemed surprised, going still, but then warmly returned the gesture. “Share my dreaming with me. Tonight. I will speak to Luna and have her assist us. Perhaps you might make a tour of it, if the others are willing. Twilight Sparkle going from dream to dream as a pilgrim.” “Is that alright?” “Yes. Yes, I do think it will be. You surprised me,” she said. “With the kiss. We have been slow about this, haven’t we?” “Yes, a bit.” “Mm. Forgive me if I seem… daunted.” Twilight chortled and nosed her. “You? I was going to say the same.” “It’s been… well. I was going to say that it had ‘been a while’ but the truth is that by my measure it really hasn’t. I’m not sure what keeps me from being more free. I wish to be, I am trying to be, but—” Twilight nuzzled her cheek. “It’s okay. This is kind of my first serious relationship. I’m not sure how ready I am to do much more, you know?” Celestia sighed. “Thank you. Often you have steadied me.” She nuzzled back, and resumed. “But the ‘tour’ if you will, I think that will be a good way to introduce yourself to what courts look like in others, and help you in the formation of your own.” “I’m willing. What do I do?” “Oh? That’s the easy part.” Celestia grinned and kissed her forehead. “You need only to sleep.”