After a few minutes in the embrace, Twilight shifted a bit to find a more comfortable position. Celestia gave her a gentle squeeze with a wing. Twilight flinched and made a tiny groan. “That’s the second time you’ve groaned,” Celestia said. “Are you in pain?”
Twilight pointed to the picture on the front page of the paper. “I overdid it.”
“I’m sure the warmth of the sun is a great comfort in that case,” Celestia said.
Twilight looked sheepish. “I haven’t called on the sun since then,” she admitted. Celestia cocked her head questioningly. “While under the storm in the Everfree Forest I tried to call on the sun, but was blocked. After I came out, the doctor told me no heavy magic for a while.”
“I’d noticed that you hadn’t used your levitation since I came in,” Celestia said.
“I’m trying to be careful,” Twilight replied. “Also, both Spike and Starlight kept rushing to help whenever I made a move that might involve magic.” She brushed bangs away from her horn, and grazed it on the way past. “It’s been two days, it should be safe to try now.”
“Contacting the sun need not be a major feat of magic,” Celestia said. “It is a matter of the invitation and your essence as an alicorn, not about magical power.”
“Really? I’m used to putting some oomph into it,” Twilight replied. “Opening and closing the connection can get a little tiring some days,” she admitted.
“How you handle your relationship is between you and the sun,” Celestia said. “In my case, I only break the connection if there are extenuating circumstances. I keep the invitation open because I find the sun’s presence… comforting.”
“I wouldn’t want to presume…”
Celestia gave Twilight a careful caress with her wing. “If you enjoy the connection, simply leave it open. The sun can make its own choices.” She smirked. “It’s quite a mature celestial body.”
Twilight giggled then settled into a smile. She opened the access to her magic the tiniest amount, not even enough to light her horn. “You’re welcome anytime,” she thought within. “I enjoy our connection but used it sparingly because I didn’t want to take up too much of your time. This as an open-ended invitation to come and go as you wish. I’ll be happy whenever you decide you wish to connect.”
The warmth of the sun flooded eagerly into Twilight. She winced and groaned again as abused muscles reacted to the heat and pressure.
“It’s distressing to see you in pain, please let me help,” Celestia asked.
Twilight tried to stretch and winced again as pain shot through the base of her wings. “Sure, whatever you can do.”
Celestia got up from her chaise. She extended her great white wings and scooped Twilight up off her chair. “Woo!” Twilight was wide eyed. “Sorry if that was a surprise.” Celestia set her on the chaise. “Lie down. Relax.”
Twilight got prone and wiggled her body to get comfortable. Each move brought pain from a protesting muscle. She finally settled on her belly, with her head resting on her forelegs, her hind legs tucked under her, and her wings drooped to each side.
Celestia’s horn lit and soothing music played. Twilight didn’t recognize the tune, but it sounded ancient. Celestia stood next to her; she was so tall, that even lying on the chaise, Twilight was barely taller than her knees.
Celestia put her forehooves on Twilight’s back and began to massage the aching muscles with long sure strokes. Twilight shifted under the contact. It was not painful, but the feeling was unexpected. The muscles themselves were tender, but Celestia’s manipulations were firm. Her hooves blazed with the regenerative power of the sun. The sun warmth within Twilight mirrored the strokes. Each muscle was massaged from within and without.
Twilight adapted to the rhythm of Celestia’s ministrations. Lying prone, calmed by the music, and warmed from within and without, she looked forward to each healing touch. Celestia was so tall that her long strokes started at Twilight’s neck, carried over her shoulders, down her back between her wings, and ended to either side of her flanks. From the back, Celestia moved to the sides, to each leg, and even to Twilight’s scalp. It felt like every muscle in Twilight’s body was being massaged.
As with the dance, Twilight felt a deep connection with Celestia when they touched and were both empowered by the sun. Twilight could feel some of what it was to be Celestia. She felt the powerful pulse of a heart greater than her own. She felt the sun’s power pushing through hooves kneading tender muscles.
And Celestia felt some of what it was to be Twilight. She could tell the condition of each muscle as she manipulated it, and knew exactly how to press for maximum effect. With an intimate knowledge of every muscle, Celestia was very thorough. Stroke after stroke, working in tandem with the sun-warmth within, her touch massaged not only the surface muscles but those deep inside Twilight. Power flooded into Twilight’s aching muscles from all sides, purging them of toxins, warming them, and saturating them with the power they would use to rebuild damaged tissue.
Twilight could follow Celestia’s progress and knew when she was about to be finished. She felt warm and loose all over. Her aches were gone. But these manipulations made her feel alert rather than languid like massages at the spa did. Perhaps being both masseuse and massaged had kept her more alert.
With Celestia’s final stroke, Twilight knew her body would begin using the power Celestia and the sun provided to rebuild. There was a template her body would use to direct the rebuilding. It wouldn’t build the soft unicorn muscle Twilight had been born with. The template was for firm earth pony muscle. It was what her body had been transitioning to since she became a princess.
But at the edge of her perceptions, Twilight became aware of a second template. This one would rebuild a powerful heart, steely alicorn muscles, a long pointed horn, and great wings. It was the template that described her potential self, the template for Future Twilight. It was a final echo of the power she’d had exhibited in the Everfree.
Even as Twilight became aware of the second template it threatened to slip away like a will-o-the-wisp. Celestia had said the circumstances that generated it might not occur again in a thousand years. And if Twilight took the time to speak it would be gone. She had but an instant to make a decision.
Her mind dredged up every reason for caution. This was unknown magic, a child of the chaos storm born in the Everfree. If it was from her future self, would accepting it cause some sort of temporal anomaly? If it was her potential, would accepting it now, perhaps before she was ready, twist her in ways she couldn’t imagine? “It would be safer,” her inner voice suggested, “to let this will-o-the-wisp fade away.”
Twilight’s life had been defined by impossible choices she had to make on instinct. Charging Nightmare Moon, when every fiber of her being told her to run away. Throwing the Crystal Heart to Spike so he could be the hero, even though Celestia had instructed her to act alone. Trading all the alicorn magic in Equestria for the freedom of her friends. Halting the fight against Starlight to try and talk her into surrendering. In each case, the day had been saved and never by doing the safe thing.
Twilight made her decision. The sun-warmth within her burbled in happy anticipation.
The power that suffused her body broke free. Her eyes went white and she levitated off the chaise without flapping a wing. A tornado of magic erupted in the office. Books pulled out from shelves and papers from desks to whirl about the room. Furniture lifted off the ground to join the orbiting books and papers.
Celestia lit her horn to block any magic that might be aimed at her. She raised a wing to shield herself from the wind and whirling detritus.
She hadn’t seen Twilight surge like this since she was a filly, trying out for Celestia’s school. No, since she’d met Twilight on the astral plane to witness her ascension into an alicorn princess. Or since Twilight and her friends became the living embodiments of the Elements of Harmony to defeat Tirek.
To be fair, this kind of thing happened to Twilight a lot more than to anypony else Celestia was aware of.
Then came a sight so unexpected, so startling, so overwhelming, that it cut straight to Celestia’s heart. It left her stunned and staring at Twilight, eyes wide, with her mouth hanging open.
Awareness returned in stages to Twilight. The first sensation was magic. Her horn was lit and feeding many spells around her. At some point, she’d canceled the pull of gravity and floated above the chaise. The air was also filled with books, papers, and several pieces of furniture, all which she had spinning about her.
Such chaos in her office would never do, so Twilight set about putting things right. She levitated the furniture back to their place, taking special care with the oak desk - she was especially fond of it. She cast a reversal spell so the books and papers would return to their locations on the shelves, desk, and tables. When Twilight was sure everything was back where it belonged she extended her wings and canceled the anti-gravity spell. With a single flap, she landed back on the chaise then let out a heartfelt, “Whew!”
When order was restored Twilight finally noticed Celestia’s open-mouthed stare and started. “My goodness Celestia, are you alright?”
“Oh,” was all Celestia said. At least she closed her mouth.
Concerned, Twilight hopped down from the chaise and moved close to Celestia. “Princess?”
Celestia’s eyes resumed their normal size. She focused on Twilight as if seeing her for the first time. “I’m fine,” she said and called on centuries of training to regain her composure. “I was… surprised by the display.” Celestia tilted her head and asked, “Is everything alright with you?”
Twilight inventoried her body. Her horn still tingled, likely an aftereffect of the magical surge. Her muscles no longer hurt. In fact, they felt fit and rested. She ruffled her wings and confirmed they were ready as well. She was about to answer when her stomach beat her to it with a loud growl. “I’m hungry, but otherwise in good shape.”
“Magical healing often requires more from the recipient than from the caster,” Celestia answered by rote. “That’s why it’s not a panacea.”
Twilight didn’t want to talk about what had happened until she had a chance to examine herself more closely and consider the implications. “Time to change the subject.” she thought. Aloud she said, “All I know is that was a heck of a massage.” She smiled. “Are you hungry? I’d like to see if Spike has anything ready in the kitchen?”
“I could use a bite,” Celestia said. She opened the door out of the office. She seemed equally happy with the change of topic and the offer of a new venue.
“Spike makes the best nachos,” Twilight said as she walked into the hall.
“Perhaps Pinkie Pie can teach him to make cake,” Celestia said as she followed.
Both mares, each for their own reason, purposefully left the events in the room behind them.
Once they were in the hall, Twilight came up short. “"Starlight! How could I have forgotten? I need to talk to her right away!” Her heart began pounding at the thought of a difficult confrontation.
Celestia put a white wing on Twilight’s back. “You do need to have a talk with your student, but not immediately. You’ve just had an emotional experience. And if that growl was any indication, you’re in desperate need of some food.” Celestia gave Twilight’s back a gentle stroke. “Eat, get your bearings, and then approach Starlight when you’re in a positive frame of mind.”
The wing-touch helped calm Twilight’s thoughts as much as any of Cadance’s breathing techniques. She felt her heart rate come down. “Good idea,” Twilight said. She took in a deep breath and blew it out. “That did it,” she thought. “Heart rate back to normal.”
Side by side, they went in search of Spike and cheesy sustenance.