The moon hung in the black of its night, wisps of cloud dusting the surface but doing little to mask the glow that burned the sky. It was an unusually quiet evening, and from Celestia’s balcony it was practically silent, save for the soft sound of the Princess’ breathing. Looking at the moon still gave Twilight a deep sense of unease – so still that it was hard to believe it would ever make way for Celestia to raise her sun. It had been nearly two weeks since Nightmare Moon’s fall, and Twilight wondered if that faint concern would ever truly fade.
“You want to ask me something,” Celestia said. “And you don’t think you should.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t judgemental either, or dismissive. It simply was.
Twilight gave her a surprised look, and Celestia laughed softly.
“Oh Twilight, please give me some credit. Whenever you want to ask a question like that, you take a sudden and intense interest in everything other than me. Every time.” Celestia’s smile became more sympathetic. “Ask. I’m sure it’s important.”
Twilight took a moment to reply, bracing herself. The Princess was right; this would only gnaw at her otherwise. “Was it hard to forgive Luna?”
“Ah.” Celestia said, and then fell silent.
She didn’t say anything more for a long time. This was, unequivocally, a Bad Sign. Twilight had only made the monarch go quiet like that twice while under her tutelage; once when asking if Celestia was immortal, and again when she consulted the Princess regarding a scandalous schoolyard rumour that stallions could shoot foals into mares with their penises.
All these years later, and that silence still made Twilight nervous.
At last, Celestia broke it. “The privilege of forgiveness was Luna’s to give, not mine.”
“But she nearly conquered Equestria!” Twilight protested.
“Nightmare Moon is not my sister. I would never hold Luna accountable for that monster’s actions.” Celestia sighed, long and tired. “Mine have no such excuse.”
“You mean banishing her? It was all you could do; you can’t blame yourself for that.”
“Oh, but I can,” Celestia said. “For that, and the neglect that allowed it to get that far. I could have – should have – stopped the darkness long before it consumed my sister.”
“That’s not true,” Twilight insisted. “Sometimes you just can’t help.”
“And sometimes another pony is the only thing that can help. I’m far from infallible, Twilight, and this mistake is one I have always regretted. I wasn’t there for Luna when she needed me most.” Celestia was watching the moon now, her mouth a thin line, eyes shining in its light. “And I have had a thousand years to remember that.”
“To answer your question,” Celestia continued after a moment, “Luna forgave me freely, regardless of whether or not I deserved it.”
“Just like that?” Twilight asked, her voice betraying her incredulity.
“Just like that,” Celestia answered. The princess gave Twilight a strange smile, one that could have been either happy or sad. Maybe it was both.
Maybe it was neither.
“Do you know how old we are, Twilight?”
Twilight thought for a moment. She remembered reading about their coronation in the founding of Equestria, and that was at least three thousand years ago. But surely they must have been around longer than that?
“Four thousand?” she hazarded.
Celestia chuckled quietly. “An underestimate, and quite a large one I’m afraid, but I’ll take it as a compliment. I ask because I don’t think many ponies can appreciate how long a thousand years is. Over ten lifetimes, for most. And yet, when you live as long as my sister and I, time takes on a different role. An unstoppable force, not sand falling through an hourglass. It never runs out, it just rolls on, forever. I won’t pretend Luna’s exile passed quickly, but it was a different kind of wait. I think one day you’ll come understand that, too.”
Twilight wasn’t sure what Celestia meant by that, but the Princess wasn’t finished, sweeping on without explanation.
“But I believe there’s always room for forgiveness with family. For most, life is too short, and for us it is too long, but the result is the same. Forgiveness is at the heart of our nature.”
“I don’t think it’s that easy,” said Twilight. She couldn’t imagine ever being able to forgive Shining for locking her away for even ten years, let alone a thousand. She couldn’t imagine forgiving him if he betrayed her the way Luna had betrayed Celestia, either.
“Easy? Oh, no, quite the opposite.” Celestia was watching Luna’s moon again. Maybe it was the pale night, making all the world’s shadows seem even darker, but the Princess looked incredibly tired. More so than Twilight had ever seen in the past. “But if it was easy, it would be meaningless.”
***
The worst part about returning to her father was the look on his face when he turned around. He’d been pacing nervously in circles as she entered, so absorbed in his thoughts she had to cough loudly before he noticed her. And when he did, and he looked up and his face was so full of hesitant hope, Twilight’s heart broke all over again.
“What did he say?” Night Light asked. There was none of the confidence she’d come to expect from him, even in the most dire circumstances they’d already faced. Instead his voice was tinged with worry, concern, and something much worse. Something no one ever wants to hear from one of their parents.
Fear.
“He’s not going to tell anyone,” she said, and the look of relief that passed over Night Light’s face hurt more than anything Shining had said to her, knowing that what she said next would kill it. “But only if we stop.”
It took a moment for that to register, for Night Light’s smile to freeze and falter, and for that flaring hope in his eyes to sputter and die. Her father crumpled, falling to his haunches, and as much as Twilight wanted to rush over and hug him, she couldn’t. She was scared the same would happen to her if she tried; her legs were shaking already.
When he spoke, there was a croak of barely restrained tears in his voice. “There was nothing you could-?”
“No.”
“What if you go back? You could talk to him again, see if-”
“No.”
“But if-”
“No.” Each time it twisted the knife deeper, hurt Twilight more and more as she was forced to give yet another swing of the axe. She wished he would stop making her say it. She didn’t know how much longer she could watch him flinch at her sharp tone.
You have to do this. It’s the only way.
Quick and clean, she’d decided on the all-too-long walk back here. That was the only way this could work, but she’d already messed it up. This was anything but quick, and Twilight had been lying to herself when she’d pretended it could ever be clean.
“So, what? We just... stop? It doesn’t work like that, kiddo, you know that.”
“This time it does,” she said. “It has to.”
“Why? We kept it a secret before, we can do it again. We’ll be more careful this time, Shining won’t even-”
“Don’t you get it?” Twilight hissed, her eyes starting to sting. “There isn’t going to be a ‘this time’. Even if it’s not Shining, someone will notice. Someone always will. If we try again we’d just be making everything even messier.”
Night Light stood. He wasn’t that defeated stallion anymore; his eyes were hard and set, and his front hoof ground restlessly against the floor. Twilight didn’t think he even knew he was doing it. “No,” he said. “I won’t let Shining stop this. We can do better. And even if things went wrong again, we could leave if it came to it.”
“And go where? We’ve got too much to lose to leave it all behind.”
“I don’t!” Night Light snapped, his voice more desperate than angry. “I’ve got nothing without you. Velvet, now Shining – I’ve already thrown everything away for you, Twilight. You can’t ask me to give you up as well.”
He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel his breath against her, as close as they’d been on those tender mornings this past week, the ones where she’d nestled into his fur and nothing could have been more right.
Now, though, Twilight took a step back, and she’d never seen so much hurt in his eyes as when she did that.
“You wanted this, what we have,” Night Light said. “Right from the start, this was what you wanted.”
“I know.”
“And you still do. You want this as much as I do. More, even. This… this is just a bump. We can still deal with this.”
Twilight wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe him so badly.
She knew he was wrong, but it didn’t stop her wanting to believe.
“We can’t,” she whispered. “No matter how much we want to.”
He stepped closer again, and this time Twilight didn’t step away. His hoof came up to her face, gently brushing away the few rebellious tears that spilled from the corners of her eyes.
“We can still try,” he said, the words soft but still so heavy. “Can’t we?”
The door slammed open, and Night Light leapt back as if he’d been stung. Before Twilight even had time to register the pale streak coming through the doorway as a pony, her mother’s hooves were around her. The embrace was paired with the expected concern
Where did you go?
We were looking everywhere for you
You have to tell us before running off like that
while Twilight buried the urge to tell her mother she wasn’t a foal anymore, and instead took the opportunity to try and dry her eyes before Velvet noticed. In the doorway stood Cadance, wearing an apologetic smile, and beside her Shining Armor, who wore no smile at all.
The other two mares remained oblivious to the disgusted way he refused to even look in Night Light’s direction. Instead Shining stared only at Twilight, intense and scowling, trying to read her face. Trying to see if she’d listened.
“Sorry Mom,” Twilight said as she finally managed to extricate herself from Velvet’s hug. “I wasn’t feeling well, so I caught the next train back. I should’ve told you where I was going.”
She gave a nervous glance to Cadance, who frowned but said nothing. Twilight knew she wouldn’t have looked particularly ill cantering down the tower’s steps away from her sister-in-law, but Cadance seemed willing to let Twilight’s excuse slide, at least for now. The lies were quickly piling up, though, and Twilight had no idea how she’d explain it to Cadance if she had to. Cross that bridge when you come to it, she decided – a strategy that so far hadn’t been working out for her, but it was the only one Twilight had.
“Yes, you should have,” Velvet replied, and although it was stern Twilight could hear the tinge of relief beneath it. And by the time she asked her next question, any harshness was completely gone from her voice. “Are you feeling better now?” she asked, already beginning to fuss over Twilight a little too much, pressing a hoof to her forehead to feel her temperature.
“Much better.”
“Good, that’s good,” Velvet replied. “Just in time for dinner, which I’m sure the stallions of the house will graciously volunteer to make tonight.” She shot a pointed look at her husband, who was staring at the carpet. “Isn’t that right, honey?”
Night Light jumped. “Oh, right. I guess it’s our turn. Er, Shining?”
Shining Armor took a little too long to reply, glowering at his father, and when he did answer his voice was flat and empty. “I guess so.”
“Be careful you don’t sound too enthusiastic,” Cadance said, laughing as she wrapped a hoof around him and started pulling him towards the door. “I’ll come too, I want to see if having servants at your beck and call has ruined your cooking.”
“It wasn’t the servants that did that,” replied Velvet with a wide smile. Her eyes didn’t smile with the rest of her, though. Instead she gave Cadance an almost imperceptible nod, one only Twilight seemed to notice as the two stallions were reluctantly lead out of the room. Velvet’s horn lit up briefly, shutting the door between a sharp click, and then Twilight and her mother were alone.
“You wanted to get rid of them,” Twilight remarked. She wasn’t entirely sure what was going on here, but she knew she wasn’t going to like it.
“I did,” said Velvet, her false smile completely gone. “Cadance was happy to help with that, but I know I have to explain everything to her soon. I’m not looking forward to doing that. You and I needed to talk, though, and I didn’t want you running away again.” Velvet sighed. “I know,” she announced.
For just a moment, Twilight stomach curled in on itself. Just a moment, and then she realised how stupid and jumpy she was being. Velvet couldn’t know. This… resignation wasn’t how she would act if she knew her husband had been sleeping with their daughter. No, this was something else.
“I should have seen it coming,” Velvet continued, tapping her hindleg repetitively against the chair she’d settled into. “You two were always so close, but I just… I just hoped I’d have the chance to explain myself before he told you.” She swallowed nervously. “But you’ve known about my affair from the start, haven’t you? That’s when the letters stopped, right after I told Night Light and he went away for a few days. He was visiting you, wasn’t he?”
Twilight hesitated, then nodded slowly. It was a lie, but a convenient one. Now this was all beginning to make sense, and not just as to why Velvet wanted to talk. This was why Night Light had been in Ponyville that evening, the one where
Fuck this mare sure is tight
everything started. He’d been coming to see her. And then he’d found that place instead somehow, the one with the blindfolds, and the hoofcuffs, and… And then he hadn’t come to see her after all. Perhaps he felt guilty, perhaps he’d changed his mind even before then. It didn’t matter really; the damage had already been done.
“I knew it,” Velvet said. “Oh goddess, I’m so sorry Twilight. I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
It wasn’t true, but it would probably have been better than hearing Velvet and Night Light argue like that. It would probably have been better than finding out after everything, after she and her father had already made love. And before that, in that place, when it was just fucking and love hadn’t even been a part of it.
“I’ve been trying to talk to you about it ever since we got here,” Velvet said. She’d stopped tapping her hooves now. Now she was just shaking. “And when I thought I’d finally worked up the courage to talk to you in your room I… I couldn’t do it. You must hate me right now.”
“No, of course not,” said Twilight, her mouth so dry her tongue stuck to the roof. That much was true, at least. If anyone deserved hate in this room, it was Twilight.
Velvet closed her eyes, and let out a long breath. “I didn’t mean to,” she said. “I know that’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth. I never set out to hurt anyone, especially not your father. I’m not… I’m not a bad pony.” She stumbled over that last sentence, like she didn’t entirely believe it herself. “I just did a bad thing, a stupid thing, and I’d take it back in a heartbeat if I could. Please, you have to believe that, Twilight.”
Velvet paused, waiting for some kind of confirmation from her daughter. It never came. Twilight had none to give, staring dumbly at her hooves, crushing guilt gnawing at her chest. With every tortured word from her mother’s mouth she tried to sink deeper and deeper into her chair.
“He was an old friend of mine,” Velvet continued hesitantly, once it was clear Twilight wasn’t going to say anything. “We hadn’t seen each other in years, and then we met again through work, purely by chance, and he asked me out for dinner. Nothing romantic or anything, just to catch up. And so I said yes, and he was charming, and handsome, and…” Velvet coughed. “Well, we started to meet more regularly. He was divorced, and lonely I think. But it was still just as friends, or at least that’s what I thought it was. Until the evening he kissed me.”
Twilight remained silent, letting the words wash over her. She didn’t want to hear this. Was this how her mother had told Night Light, she wondered? Had he sat in the same way she did now, numb and empty? She doubted that. She’d seen how angry he’d been.
And, of course, he hadn’t had the secret inside him that was burning a hole through Twilight’s chest, getting hotter and hotter with every word Velvet spoke. That would come later, for him. But Velvet was so broken over this, and Twilight had done so much worse. Yet here her mother was, hoping for – pleading for – Twilight’s forgiveness of all things.
She felt sick.
“I should have stopped him there, I know,” said Velvet. “Turned him down, cut off contact, anything. But instead I let him. I wanted to let him. It’s not that I didn’t love your father anymore. I still love him, Twilight, more than anything, but... love changes. At first it’s fiery, so hot you’re scared you’re going to burn yourself. As time goes on, it gets deeper than that. You reach a point where you can’t imagine life without that pony. That’s special, Twilight, but it’s not the same. You know you can’t get burned anymore. And I was selfish. I wanted the fire again. I know it’s not an excuse, or even a good reason, but it’s the only one I have.”
Velvet wiped a hoof across her face, drying her eyes as best she could.
“It got harder to hide. I was seeing him more and more, coming up with every excuse under the sun to be away in the evenings. Then one night I came back home late. I’d spent it with him, of course. Night was asleep in the kitchen when I got in, slumped on the table. I was trying to tiptoe around him so I didn’t wake him up, and then I saw them in the moonlight.”
Velvet’s words grew even less sure of themselves, her lower lip starting to tremble. “Roses,” she murmured. “The biggest bouquet you could imagine, sitting in between candles that had gone out long before I got home. I’d forgotten. He’d made me forget. It was our anniversary. Night had waited all evening for me to come home, so we could eat the roses together. And that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that once I woke him up he forgave me. Don’t worry about it, I know you’ve been so busy lately. They’re still good, we can eat them now, he said. You’re worth waiting for. And that’s when I told him everything, because I couldn’t bear to hide it anymore. He didn’t deserve that.”
“You told Dad you were cheating on him on your anniversary?” Twilight struggled and failed to keep the disbelief out of her voice.
“He didn’t tell you that?” Velvet bit her lip. It must have been a little too hard, because she winced. “I didn’t want it to turn out that way, I promise. I just couldn’t lie to him anymore. Night took it about as well as you’d expect.”
I was so angry, Twilight. I wanted to hurt her. The same way she’d hurt me.
“After he’d finished shouting,” Velvet continued, “he went quiet. I couldn’t get him to say anything, no matter how much I begged him to talk to me. That silence was worse than the shouting. And then he left, and didn’t come back for over a week. When he finally did, the first words out of his mouth were him asking if it was over between me and the other stallion. I told him it was.”
Something in her mother’s voice gave Twilight pause – as if Velvet had forced herself to stop the last sentence before the inevitable ‘but’. “Was it?” Twilight asked.
“Yes,” Velvet said, hesitantly, “...but after our argument, I went to see him one more time. I know I shouldn’t have, but I was scared, and I was lonely, and I thought he’d make me feel better. One night was enough to make me realise how wrong I’d been, how big a mistake I’d made. Whatever fire that had been there, it was gone. I didn’t want him, not anymore. I just wanted Night Light back.” She gestured half-heartedly around her. “That’s why we’re here. One last, pathetic attempt to fix things before he tells me he wants a divorce. I thought seeing you and Shining again would help him remember how great we are, as a family, and how much I love him, but he’s only gotten even colder towards me since you two showed up.”
Twilight’s mouth felt so dry, her lips cracking. Velvet could never know whose fault it was that Night Light was acting that way, or why. It would break her – and she seemed on the verge of breaking anyway. How could Shining even think of holding that guillotine over them? Over Velvet? He’d never do that if he truly cared about her.
“I do still love him, Twilight, I want you to know that. I love him with everything I’ve got left. He doesn’t believe me, I know, but deep down I’m sure he still loves me too.” Velvet went quiet for a moment, staring at the floor, and then blinked as if she’d only just remembered Twilight was still in the room. “Maybe it’s too late for that. But however messy it gets between your father and me, you know that I’ll always love you, don’t you? No matter what.”
No matter what.
Twilight wasn’t so sure about that.
***
The pool was still, its surface perfect glass, the moon’s reflection etched into it. Twilight wasn’t entirely sure why she’d found herself out here, only that the house had begun its now familiar trick of feeling all too claustrophobic, even – especially – in her empty bedroom. She’d given up on sleep after hours of restless tossing and turning, and eventually gone for a walk with no real destination in mind. Through the labyrinthine corridors, out across the main hall, through the front doors, and now to the water’s edge where finally she stopped.
Twilight remembered swimming here, on that day when it had been warm enough to be suffocating. It was stunning how much things had changed. Back then they’d all been laughing, a real family, but Twilight was starting to believe that everyone had been acting all along. Not just her. Maybe now she was finally seeing the truth of the Sparkle family, secrets that had been boiling under the surface becoming too much to keep hidden anymore.
She stepped forward, letting her front hooves be swallowed up by the cool water. The motion sent ripples across the pool’s surface, fracturing the previously flawless reflection of the night sky.
Twilight didn’t even know if it was her fault anymore. At first it had been all too easy to blame everything on herself. She’d gone to that place, she’d stayed silent when her father removed the gag, she’d let him do everything he wanted. She’d wanted him to do everything. And then she’d pursued him, and the thrill Twilight felt once her father was finally hers, once he’d kissed her and loved her and told her he needed her as badly as she wanted him? That had never gone away, not even a little. And then she’d looked her mother in the eyes as Velvet poured out her heart, and Twilight had said nothing.
She stepped further into the lake. The water swallowed her back hooves now too, high enough to just brush against her barrel at the front and lap gently between her thighs at the back.
Had Twilight been in any other position, the hoof of blame would be pointing squarely at herself. But there was so much more to this. Twilight hadn’t made her mother have an affair, she hadn’t made them fight, she hadn’t meant for Night Light to find her in hoofcuffs. Most of all, Twilight wasn’t to blame for that inexorable pull she felt towards her father. She’d tried to ignore it, tried to fight it. She’d failed.
The water was up to her neck, almost completely submerging her. It had soaked through her coat now, and the cold had reached her skin, little goosebumps sending a not entirely unpleasant tingle over her body.
And now Shining knew, and had given her that impossible choice, and she’d made it knowing she was going to hate it, and now maybe Night Light hated her too, and why couldn’t she stop fucking things up, why couldn’t she just for once make the right choice and do the right thing and then everything could be fine, everything could suddenly be okay. There had to be something she was missing, there always was. Whether it was facing off against Nightmare Moon, or Queen Chrysalis, or even the embodiment of chaos, she and her friends had always come through it. There had always been something just waiting to be realised, and they’d always managed to find it together. But her friends weren’t here now, and this was something she could never drag them into. Even with her father practically begging for her to stay with him she’d never felt so alone. He was there, but he wasn’t there for her anymore; he was too close to her now.
One final step and Twilight was underwater. The sounds of insects and wind she hadn’t even noticed before were replaced by blood rushing through her veins and her own heartbeat as the water surrounded her ears. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut, knowing she wouldn’t have seen anything even if she tried to keep them open. That was okay, more than okay. The floor slipped away as she paddled further towards the lake’s centre, and then Twilight was floating, and it was just her and nothing else.
The last time, she hadn’t stayed down here long, kicking her way back up to the surface to breathe, making sure her family didn’t worry about her being under for so long. This time, that wasn’t an issue. And so she stayed. She stayed where the world was finally silent and even the thoughts spiralling endlessly in her head were gone. She stayed where she’d finally managed to escape everything, leaving it back on the shore behind her. She stayed where she could forget about it all.
But like everything before, even this was cruelly unfair. Even this was going to be taken away from her eventually, when finally she ran out of air and would be forced to kick back up to the surface.
Maybe she could pretend until then, though. She'd like that. To simply float here and pretend she could do it forever. Perhaps that's what she'd been doing all this time anyway, pretending things could stay as they were. Because deep down she must have known, mustn't she? Deep down she must have known that what she and her father had could never last, that it was just another fantasy of hers waiting to fall apart as well. That sooner or later she was going to have to break for the surface and leave it behind.
No, she answered. She hadn't known that. The truth was she'd been naive enough to think she could keep it. Maybe not forever, but certainly longer than this.
She'd been wrong.
And as if as a reminder, her lungs began to protest now, no longer able to keep her underwater where it was peaceful and she could pretend this was all in her head and leave it behind. Back to the reality now, she supposed, back to restlessly tossing and turning in her bed and not sleeping. Back to watching her father longingly whenever her family was all together, and avoiding him when they weren't. Back to Shining's distaste and disapproval, and her mother's loneliness. Twilight could have begun paddling to the surface quicker, but it was far from appealing. And so, even with her body almost screaming at her to resurface, Twilight contented herself with a slow but sure swim back up to the moonlight.
She would be denied even that small rebellion. A pair of hooves hooked beneath her front legs from behind, yanking her abruptly towards the surface. Twilight gasped in surprise at the sudden contact, taking in nothing but water, and so when she and her unknown companion broke the surface it was in a tirade of splutters and panic.
"I've got you kiddo, it's alright, you're okay, it's okay."
Twilight was still trying to cough up the mouthful of lake water that had seemingly lined her lungs, and she couldn't even answer as her father pulled her to the bank and up onto the grass.
"It's okay, you're okay."
Night Light stood to the side, repeating that over and over as Twilight coughed up more water than she could possibly imagine swallowing in one gulp. She wasn't sure which of them he was trying to reassure.
When at last the coughs subsided, Twilight flopped wetly onto the ground, dripping and shivering in the now cold night air.
"I'm okay," she said, her voice croaky and hoarse, and her father dropped down beside her with a loud sigh of relief.
"What the hell were you doing?" he muttered.
"What was I doing?" Twilight turned to her father with a scowl. "What were you doing? I was fine until you surprised me like that."
"You… you were?"
"I can swim, Dad. You should know, you taught me."
"I know you can, of course I know, but you were underwater for so long, and I thought-”
“I was fine,” she insisted, not letting him finish his sentence because she knew it would only worry him, in the way that parents recounting worst case scenarios always grew more and more panicked. “And I’m fine now, too.”
He laughed softly and pulled her in for a hug as they lay together on the grass. He was as wet as she was, but somehow so much warmer, and she snuggled gratefully into his chest. “I may not know much,” he said, “but even I can tell we’re both pretty fucking far from fine.”
Twilight wasn’t really sure how to answer that, and so instead she tried to change the subject. “What were you doing out here?”
“I was following you,” he said. “I heard the front door open and came out to see what you were doing, thinking maybe we could talk. I wasn’t expecting to see you try and drown yourself, or whatever the hell you were doing. You scared me, kiddo.”
“I’m sorry,” Twilight mumbled, her voice muffled even further by her father’s fur as she hugged him tighter. “I just wanted to get away from everything for a little while.”
“Yeah, you and me both.” He put his hooves on her shoulders, pushing her back slightly to look into her eyes, his own deep blue irises almost black in the gloom. “But we’re getting through this, and we’re going to come out the other side okay. I don’t know how yet, but we’ll work it out. Together.”
Twilight didn’t answer, and for a long time they lay there, dripping onto the grass together in silence, content to simply be next to each other.
The kiss was inevitable.
She didn’t stop him this time, didn’t even try, craving his touch and his love as badly as she always had. Night Light’s face was still damp from the lake but so was she and it didn’t matter as he held her tighter, as the kiss became more like the ones they’d shared before, the tentative tenderness and hesitancy burned away as their lust flared through to replace it. Now he was on top of her, and Twilight wasn’t entirely sure how he’d got there, but that was just another thing that didn’t matter.
When she was a little foal, Twilight had always been scared of the mare in the moon watching down at everything did through the night, prying into everyone’s most private moments and watching them sleep. Even though now she knew Luna would never do anything like that even if she could, it didn’t stop her feeling incredibly naked in the moonlight as her father moved down to kiss her chest and her legs began to open out of pure instinct. And, in many ways, she truly was just as naked as she felt. If anyone came outside it wouldn’t be hard at all to find them together, and no excuse would be able to cover for them. Some small, vindictive part of her would almost welcome that, just so Shining wouldn’t have anything to hold over them anymore. For him to have to explain that he’d known Twilight and her father were sleeping together and had hidden it, almost as complicit as they were. The rest of the fallout would never be worth that small pleasure, of course, but it was still fun to imagine.
And then Night Light was between her legs, and his tongue ran up against her, and she stopped imagining anything at all. She didn’t need to anymore, not with him there, pressing into her and lavishing her with all the attention she could ever want. Because this was what she wanted, no matter how much she tried to reason herself out of it, she wanted this. She wanted him. And she wanted him to want her, and as her thighs squeezed his head tighter, that’s exactly what she had.
And it was wrong, and they shouldn’t, and she’d promised Shining they would stop, and right now she didn’t even care as long as he would keep doing that with his tongue, teasing and toying with her and making her back arch against the damp grass. Shining could make their world burn if he found out, and right now it would still be worth it.
I still love him, Twilight.
Night Light hooked his hooves around her legs, holding her tight. He didn’t really need to; she was already pressing his head hard enough against her that his muzzle was almost inside of her, and even that didn’t feel like enough. She wanted to be filled, to feel his length push into her as she pulled him in with her hindlegs around his waist. Instead, his tongue delved into her, and while she still couldn’t help but wriggle at the pleasurable tingles her father’s attentions brought, it was still unfulfilling. A not-quite-right substitute for what she really needed. Close, and wonderful all the same, but still not quite right.
Because what she needed was for him to take her – here, on the grass, the way he’d done all those wonderful times before. She needed him to fuck her, to rut her, his grunts the most genuine affirmation of Night Light’s own need and desire. And, when he was done and he rolled off of her, his warmth filling her in the way that nothing else could, she needed him to hold her tight and close and whisper into her ear that he loved her, and she’d whisper back the same. And then they’d lay here together until the world made it all right for them.
Until the world became fair.
Her legs, previously holding his head so tightly, went limp as they tried both to keep Night Light held between them and instinctively open to let him deeper. He took that as a sign, and his attentions ceased, leaving Twilight trembling and unsatisfied as he moved upwards, his kisses so gentle and soft that if Twilight wasn’t so sensitive right now she probably wouldn’t have been able to feel them at all. But now her body ached for him, for something to bring her to that peak she was so close to cresting. He must have known, and yet he ignored her body’s silent pleas and kept on going slow – terribly, wonderfully slow – right up until he reached her neck and his kisses turned into the lightest of bites. Each one stung just the right amount as she felt his hardness brush against her stomach, as excited and ready for this as she was.
“Stop.”
The murmur was quiet, so quiet that in Twilight’s desperate yearning she wasn’t even sure she’d heard it right. It was her own voice, but it couldn’t have been her, not now. Why would she say something like that when she needed this so badly?
Night Light’s length began to press even more insistently against her navel, practically fucking her fur as he squirmed in desperate lust.
“Stop,” she said again, and all the pleasurable sensations drained away at once as reality soaked back into her – the same unwelcome coldness as when Night Light dragged her up out of the water and into the chilling air. This time she dragged herself into it, the less rational part of Twilight’s mind kicking and screaming and begging her to leave this be, to stop ruining everything and just take what she wanted. What she needed.
What she deserved.
Night Light didn’t seem to notice Twilight’s hoof pushing against his chest, or maybe he did and thought she’d change her mind if he kept kissing, kept nipping, pressed his hips against her with a low growl as his cock brushed through the soft fur on her stomach.
“Dad, stop!” This time almost a shout, and a shove, her voice cracking in what was close to panic, and Night Light finally stumbled back off of her, breathing heavily, his flushed face rapidly changing from one of lust to concern.
“Twilight?”
Twilight climbed to unsteady hooves.
“We can’t,” she said.
He blinked. “We…? What? You just-”
“We can’t,” she repeated, unable to look him in the eye and instead staring down at the wet grass.
“Kiddo, you can’t still say that now. Not after that.” Night Light took a cautious step forward, testing to see if she’d back away. “This is right.”
I still love him, Twilight.
“It’s not. We want it to be, but it isn’t.”
Night Light took a moment to reply, staring at her in disbelief. “I don’t care,” he said.
“What?”
“I don’t care. If it’s wrong, then let’s be wrong.”
Twilight slowly shook her head, hating it, hating this, hating herself for leading him on so much.
I still love him.
Her father’s expression turned to one of complete and utter hopelessness. “Please,” he said, and his plaintive voice was already starting to choke up. “Please don’t do this to me, Twilight. I can’t have this happen again.”
Once more, Twilight had nothing to say. Nothing to say as tears streamed down her father’s face and he did nothing to try and wipe them away. Nothing to say that wouldn’t be a lie they could both see through.
“Don't go," he whispered. "Please."
Silence hung in the air for all too long, until Twilight turned and wordlessly began to walk away, telling herself not to look back, not to turn around because then she would stand no chance of leaving, no chance of doing the right thing rather than everything she wanted so badly to do instead. Just one hoof in front of the other, each feeling like dead weight and taking all her effort as she walked so slowly up the manor’s lawn.
It’s better this way, she told herself, as Night Light called out to her. Over and over again he called her name, getting more and more desperate each time. She didn’t look back. It has to be this way, she affirmed, as her father’s calls turned into a furious shout of frustration. She didn’t look back. And when even that became silence, and Night Light just watched her go, unmoving, Twilight repeated that thought, doing all she could to not notice the world beginning to blur.
And she didn’t look back.