Cadance rolled her eyes and grabbed some more popcorn. “Seriously? You haven’t got your eye on any colts?”
Twilight shook her head. She wasn’t quite sure when the conversation had gotten onto boys, but the topic had always made her more than a little uncomfortable.
Cadance smiled warmly and shifted closer, pulling her into a sideways hug. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just a bit surprised, I thought you’d have them lining up by now.”
“Not really,” Twilight said. She didn’t think she wanted that, either.
“Well, don’t worry about it,” replied Cadance. “There’s plenty of time to find the right one. And you’ll have first choice, too.”
“Huh?”
“You’re smart, you’re funny. Any colt would be lucky to go out with you.”
Twilight frowned, and pulled the cushion closer to her chest. “How will I know?”
“Know what?”
“If he’s the right one.”
Cadance laughed, but it was kind, not mocking. “When they’re the right one, you won’t have to ask me,” she said. “You’ll know.”
Twilight pondered this for a while, as Cadance munched on more popcorn and Shining Armor clattered around in the kitchen. Long gone were the days where they needed proper foalsitting, of course, but it was nice to have Cadance visit just as a friend. Even if sometimes it ended up in these awkward conversations she would have preferred to avoid.
“What about you?” Twilight asked. “Do you have a special somepony?”
Cadance grinned, glancing in the direction of the kitchen. “Not yet, but soon, I hope.”
Something flitted across Twilight’s mind – some long forgotten memory from back when she was a foal and everything had melded into a blur of youth and excitement. Pink and white, a flash of surprise
This isn’t what it looks like
and shock. She reached for it, but it danced away, slipping out of her grasp like water, and it was gone. Twilight frowned, then pushed the thought away. It couldn’t have been that important anyway.
The kitchen door swung open, and Shining emerged with a tray full and teetering with a mountain of snacks and sweets.
Cadance rolled her eyes as he stumbled across the room. “Shiny, your parents are going to be really mad if we eat their entire pantry.”
Shining gave her a quizzical look. “We? This stuff’s just for me, you can get your own.”
He grinned at Cadance’s withering glare before settling himself beside her and placing the platter between the three of them.
“Ugh, it is soooo nice to finally get out of the castle for a bit,” said Cadance, stretching back as her wings unfolded to their full span, her eyes closed in contentment. “I’m sick of being a Princess already, and I don’t even have to do anything yet.”
“What does a Princess of Love have to do?” Twilight asked. “Obviously Celestia has to raise the sun and the moon, I’ve been reading about it, but none of the books mention a Princess of Love.”
“Well, no, I won’t have to do that. Not while Auntie’s around, anyway. It’s mostly just boring bureaucracy stuff, but really my job will be to make sure ponies are safe and happy.”
“The Royal Guard already do that,” huffed Shining.
“Maybe, but they’re not exactly…”
“Not exactly what?” he demanded.
“Subtle. Sometimes things need a more gentle touch. A kind word in the right place can accomplish far more than an army ever could.”
“Did Princess Celestia tell you that?” Shining asked, thoroughly unconvinced.
Cadance giggled. “Verbatim. But she’s right.”
Shining grunted dismissively and dived back into the pile of treats. Twilight, meanwhile, sat and considered Cadance’s words. Her concern did not go unnoticed.
“Are you okay, Twilight?” asked Cadance.
“I just don’t know if that’s right. I wouldn’t ever want to call Celestia wrong or anything-”
Her brother rolled his eyes.
“-but I’ve read a lot of the history books in the Royal Library since I’ve been studying there, and there have been so many bad things that happened even while Celestia’s been Princess. Rebellions and wars and all sorts of things that talking didn’t stop.”
“Of course,” said Cadance, “but that’s just because no one’s writing about the things that didn’t happen. You can’t help someone by force, even as a last resort. It would only make things worse.”
“So how do you help them?”
“With kindness,” Cadance answered. “And love.”
***
Cadance had stopped smiling a long time ago.
Twilight had watched as the Princess’ expression morphed from confusion to concern to abject horror, as Twilight had recounted everything that had happened over the past couple of weeks. Now she sat there blankly, her wide eyes flitting between Twilight and Shining, as if he would somehow refute Twilight’s story and end this madness.
Almost as soon as she had started telling Cadance everything, Twilight was filled with oppressive, chest-tightening dread. They were sat in the bedroom Cadance and Shining had claimed for the holiday, a single candelabra in the corner their only source of light, and the dim glow did nothing to calm her mood. This was a mistake. A huge one. Cadance wasn’t just another pony being dragged into this sordid maelstrom – she was a Princess. If she reacted badly (which was far more likely than not, Twilight wasn’t naive enough to think otherwise), she could do far worse than Shining or anyone else could.
Banishment? Exile? Or she might tell Princess Celestia, who could then exile Twilight herself. Certainly Twilight would be relinquished as her student. She didn’t think she could bear to see the disappointment Celestia would have for her if that happened. Or the disgust. She’d lose her home in Ponyville, and if word spread? She’d lose all of her friends, a fate even worse than losing Celestia’s tutelage. Surely they’d never stick by her after all she’d done, and she wouldn’t ask that of them.
She might even lose Spike.
And yet, Twilight pushed on, skipping the details for obvious reasons, but still explaining all she could of her and Night Light’s liaisons. She watched Shining squirm as he discovered the true extent of their time together, but the sight brought her neither joy nor guilt. She felt dull, empty, a puppet with someone else on her strings. A spectator, watching herself explain from a distance, the flickering light from the candles making all the room’s shadows jump and dance with every word. And when her story was over, as she finished talking about earlier that evening and the lies she’d told Velvet, the hurt she’d brought her mother, Twilight sat back and waited for her world to end.
She wasn’t expecting Cadance to get angry, that wasn’t like her. She was expecting icy cold, blunt explanations of everything she’d done wrong and how she would be punished for it. She was expecting Cadance to demand them to tell Velvet everything anyway. She was expecting admonishment, disdain, disappointment.
When Cadance rose wordlessly from the bed she’d been sitting on, Twilight feared the worst, and when she crossed the room and raised a hoof, Twilight couldn’t help but flinch. Instead of the strike she was prepared for, though, Cadance gently brushed her cheek, before leaning in and pressing her forehead to Twilight’s.
“Twilight,” she whispered. “I am so, so sorry.” And with that Cadance pulled her into a hug that Twilight knew was so undeserved and yet so welcome all the same. “If I’d had any idea how serious all this was when you came to me… I would never have been so flippant about it. I should have seen it.”
“Do you hate me?” Twilight murmured.
“No, don’t be silly,” Cadance replied. “Of course I don’t.”
“Wait a minute,” said Shining. “You knew about this?”
“No, I had no idea.” Cadance leaned in and wiped away the tears that were starting to spill from Twilight’s eyes. “If only I had, I might’ve…” She caught herself, taking a moment to align her thoughts. “Twilight told me about a relationship she was unsure about starting, that it was with a married stallion. I told her to wait for him, but I didn’t know it was… I couldn’t have known. I didn’t realise it was anything this serious.”
“You told her she should wait?” Shining spluttered. “Even if it was ‘just’ a married stallion, you told her that was okay?”
“Calm down,” Cadance warned, an edge to her voice Twilight had never heard before.
“How the fuck am I supposed to be calm? My sister is fucking my father behind my mother’s back, and now I find out that my wife gave her the fucking green light!”
“That is not what I said.” The edge hardened. “You need to-”
“I don’t need to do anything! You need to tell Twilight to stop this insanity and-”
“Shining, if you don’t shut up and listen right this second then you can leave.”
Cadance’s voice cut through the air, somehow filled with so much power even though she had barely raised it. For the first time, Cadance didn’t just seem like Twilight’s friendly foalsitter she’d known her entire life, she wasn’t just her sister-in-law. For the first time Twilight saw Cadance as the royalty she was, her tone truly intimidating and commanding.
And knowing that somepony like that didn’t hate Twilight for what she’d done gave her a small flicker of something deep in her chest that she hadn’t felt for a very long time, far too long. Hope.
Shining withered at Cadance’s words, suddenly seeming so very small as his anger deflated. He was still breathing heavily, glancing back and forth between his sister and his wife, but all his rage had been replaced with pure hurt.
“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. “I just…”
“I know,” said Cadance, and now her words were as warm and understanding as ever, no trace of the dominating Princess she’d been only a moment ago. “It’s okay, Shiny. I know.”
He waited a moment longer, then dropped down onto his haunches and hung his head, waiting for Cadance to continue.
“What I told Twilight is that love is not simple, and you know that as well as I do. It’s messy, and it’s complicated. It leaves scars.” She hugged Twilight tighter. “And it doesn’t listen to what we want, or what we know is good for us.”
For a moment she just held Twilight, and oh it was so good to be hugged, to be held, to be close to another pony again. And though Twilight was far from free of the guilt that had gnawed at her soul for much too long, for a moment it didn’t matter. For a moment it felt like everything was going to be okay, even if it almost certainly wasn’t.
“Twilight,” Cadance said, switching her attention from Shining Armor. “I wish I could tell you that you could be with him, I really do.”
“But you can’t,” said Twilight, and the words were poison on her tongue.
“I can’t,” Cadance agreed. “And it’s not fair, and I’m sorry.”
Twilight expected Cadance to let her go then, to set her free and send her back to being alone, now with the disapproval of yet another pony weighing on her conscience. But she didn’t; if anything Cadance only hugged her tighter, letting Twilight’s fresh tears soak into her fur.
“Don’t be sorry,” Twilight mumbled into Cadance’s shoulder. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have done it.”
“It’s okay.”
“I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” she continued, her tears starting to flow thick and fast now. “But I didn’t want to hurt anymore either.”
“Do you love him?” Cadance asked, and there was no judgement in her voice.
“Yes,” said Twilight. Instant. Sure.
Cadance smiled, but even Twilight could see the sadness that filled it, the Princess’ eyes starting to shine brighter in the candlelight.
“And does Velvet love him?” she asked.
Twilight took longer to answer this time. “Yes,” she said, eventually. Quiet. Muted.
Cadance nodded in sympathetic understanding. “Then somepony was always going to hurt. No matter what you did.”
“I don’t know how to fix this,” Twilight said, her voice just the barest whisper as she clutched Cadance ever tighter. “And every time I tried I just made everything even worse.”
And now Cadance didn’t say anything, she just let Twilight hug her and hold her and waited for all the emotions she’d bottled up to flow out. All Twilight had been allowed was anger and frustration with Shining, pangs of want and rejection from her father. Everything else she’d only had to herself, and now she was finally able to let it go and it was so wonderful and so terrible all at the same time.
And when at last she’d let everything go, when all her tears had dried up and there was nothing else left, she pulled back and looked up at Cadance, who was still smiling that sad, understanding smile, whose own makeup was starting to blur at the edges of her eyes.
“What do I do?” Twilight asked, raw and empty.
Cadance leaned forward, so close, her voice quiet but filled with every reassurance. “We fix it,” she said.
“Are you sure we can?”
“No,” said Cadance. “But we’re going to try.”
***
Twilight stared at the enormous sundae in front of her, a sheer monument of ice cream and chocolate. “Cadance, this is really too much.”
A sharp elbow to her side snapped her attention to the small dragon beside her, glaring up at Twilight.
“Don’t ruin this for me!” Spike hissed.
She rolled her eyes as Cadance giggled.
“You should have asked for one too, Spike,” the Princess said. “I can get you one if you’d like.”
“It’s fine,” Twilight quickly interjected, earning her the saddest look of disappointment from Spike she’d ever seen. At least until she slid her own sundae over to him. “He can have mine, I’m not that hungry.”
Spike didn’t even spare a moment before lunging at the ice cream and stuffing his face.
“You’ll regret that in a minute,” Twilight warned.
“Don’t care,” Spike mumbled between mouthfuls. “Too good.”
Cadance laughed, delving heartily into her own dessert. “This was meant to be your treat for saving me, Twilight.”
Flashes of that day rose in Twilight’s mind, flying bolts of magic, seething hordes of changelings, Chrysalis’ green, mocking eyes above a horrific snarl. The clean up was still well underway, and there was a large gouge in one of the ice cream store’s pillars that Twilight’s gaze was continually drawn to. She was pretty sure it had been caused by a wayward spell of her own, although in all the chaos it was impossible to be sure.
“Oh, I don’t mean to be ungrateful,” said Twilight. “I just-”
“It’s fine, I understand,” said Cadance, waving away her concerns with a hoof before devouring another large mouthful. “I’m a married mare now, though; I can stop worrying about my figure. Your brother’s locked in, it’s too late for him to back out.” She grinned wickedly, and Twilight couldn’t help but laugh as well.
This was good.
It was amazing how quickly Chrysalis' uprising had become a memory. How quickly ponies were moving on. The streets were bustling, the mess was being cleaned, and Twilight and Cadance could sit here with sundaes as if just a week ago they hadn’t been trapped in a cave with almost no hope of escape.
Well, Spike and Cadance could, anyway, and the little dragon had already almost finished his. For someone so small, it always amazed Twilight how much he could eat.
But her eyes kept being drawn to that gouge, and every time they did a different but equally unpleasant memory unravelled before her. A different flash of teeth, of green eyes, of two terrified mares in the fragmented reflection of a crystal.
“Twilight?”
Twilight snapped out of her reverie at Cadance’s concerned tone. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
There was a quiet clink as Cadance placed down her spoon. “I was asking if you were okay, but I think you’ve already answered the question.”
Twilight nodded slowly. “I just keep thinking about what would have happened if we didn’t stop her.”
The Princess reached out and took Twilight’s hoof in hers. “But we did,” she said.
“And maybe next time we won’t. And maybe next time it will be worse than Chrysalis.”
“Worse than Chrysalis? Twilight, I have to go home to a husband who is so horrified at what happened that I don’t know if he’ll ever truly get over it. I don’t know if he’ll ever let me forgive him. I have to lie in a bed that creature slept in, wearing my body as hers. Nothing is going to be worse than that. And you know what?”
“What?”
Cadance’s solemn expression morphed into a wide smile, the kind she was so good at, the kind that radiated sunshine and said that everything was okay and made you believe it without hesitation. “We beat her,” she said. “And if we did that, we can face whatever comes next.”
“There’s always going to be something else, though,” countered Twilight. “There always is.”
“Maybe,” said Cadance. “But that seems like a pretty poor reason to give up, don’t you think?”
“I wasn’t giving up.” Twilight paused a moment and glanced over at Spike. He’d finished the ice cream now, and was instead lying on his back, a dopey wide grin on his face as he stared happily up at the sky at nothing in particular. She dropped her voice and leaned closer to Cadance. “I’m just scared.”
Cadance nodded. “Me too. I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”
This was news to Twilight. Cadance had seemed so sure of herself, so relaxed, so calm. Even during the siege, during their escape, and even as she faced down Chrysalis beside Shining Armor, she’d seemed so in control, so fearless. Twilight had thought she wasn’t afraid of anything.
Sensing her surprise, Cadance laughed. “It’s not a bad thing, Twilight. Everyone gets scared sometimes, and often about things far less serious than saving the whole of Equestria. But it’s a good thing, I promise.”
“It doesn’t feel like a good thing.”
“You’re only scared because you have something you want to protect. But those same things are what give you strength, what push you to greater and better things. The only reason I was able to stand up to Chrysalis was because I was so scared of losing Shiny. Of losing everything.”
“But wouldn’t it be better not to be afraid?”
Cadance shook her head. “If you’re not scared, it’s because you’ve got nothing else left to lose. And that’s very sad, don’t you think?”
Twilight didn’t answer right away, still staring at that chip in the pillar as Spike groaned beside them.
“Brain freeze…” he mumbled.
“I did warn you,” said Twilight, smiling despite herself.
“You shoulda warned me better.”
She rolled her eyes and turned back to Cadance. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “But things would be easier if I wasn’t afraid.”
“They would be,” Cadance agreed. “But scary things are often the ones that are most important.”
***
Right now, Twilight was scared. The three of them still sat in that room, still covered in dim, flickering candlelight, and Twilight looked at the two ponies across from her and she was scared.
The hug had ended now, leaving Twilight so very alone once again. Cadance sat beside Shining now, her face wreathed in the shadows save for tiny pinpricks of light sparkling in reflections in her eyes.
“We need a plan,” the Princess said.
“Don’t ask Twilight,” muttered Shining. “Her plans so far got us into this mess.”
“Shiny…” Cadance’s tone was warning again, but this time Shining Armor didn’t back down.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m done with playing nice. There’s an easy answer, and all Twilight has to do is nothing at all. That’s why I convinced her to talk to you, so she can hear it from someone else and maybe she’ll listen.”
“You don’t believe that,” said Cadance. “You know this isn’t so simple.”
“It is. I’m fed up of everyone acting like this is some impossible challenge. Twilight just needs to understand that and leave it alone.”
“I’m right here…” Twilight said, quietly. Neither of them even turned in her direction.
“Was it that simple to leave Chrysalis behind?” snapped Cadance. “Did I tell you just get over it?”
“That’s different and you know it,” Shining snarled. “And don’t say her name.”
“Love is not cut and dry. Love is delicate. You can’t just ignore it and wait for it to fix itself. You have to be patient, and understanding. You have to give ponies time.”
“What good is that going to do here? What the hell kinda plan are you possibly going to come up with? Twilight just needs to stay out of Dad’s life. And I’ll go talk to him and make sure he stays out of hers.”
“Night Light needs just as much help as Twilight does, I thought you of all ponies would-”
“No, he doesn’t deserve help. He doesn’t deserve to even be our father any more, not after what he’s done.”
There was a long silence after that, the candles seeming to flicker faster in the pause. Shining had stood up at some point during his tirade, and was staring down furiously at the two mares before him, but with almost a hint of surprise, as if he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten there.
“What has he done?” Cadance asked, gently.
“Wha-?” Shining didn’t even seem to know how to process the question. “You have to ask!?”
“I want you to say it.”
“He’s torn this family apart,” Shining spat. His anger was just as strong as before, but not explosive like it was at first. Now it seethed like bile, every word tainted, filled with pure disgust. “He cheated on his wife with his own daughter, out of fucking spite.”
Cadance opened her mouth to speak, but she was quickly cut off.
“I looked up to him,” said Shining, and now that anger was slowly morphing into cold hatred. “I joined the guard, not just for you, but because I wanted to make him proud. I thought he was a great pony. When Velvet told me she cheated on him, I knew he would forgive her. Because that’s what you do, isn’t it? That’s what love is about. You forgive mistakes, and you forgive regrets, and you don’t blame the ones you love.” He closed his eyes, a thick edge to his voice. “You told me that. You promised.”
“I did,” Cadance said.
“But he didn’t,” Shining replied. “He threw it all away for petty revenge, happy to fuck anyone who’d be there for him. And when that turned out to be his daughter, he thought that was just fucking perfect. How better to get one over on Velvet than that? He’s a monster, and he doesn’t deserve the slightest bit of sympathy from you, or anyone else.”
Twilight had had enough. She’d borne Shining’s anger ever since he’d discovered the two of them. He’d called Night Light everything he could think of, he’d told her he should hate her, and through it all, Twilight had let him. She’d been bitter, and she’d let him know it, but she’d always let him have the last word, the final insult. She’d let him vent and shout and argue because she’d thought it was his way of coping, and because deep down she felt like she deserved it. But all he’d done was gotten angrier.
And she was sick of it.
“What about me?” she asked, climbing up onto her hooves as well, leaving Cadance alone on the floor, the shadows doing nothing to hide her concern at the siblings' vitriol. “Am I a monster, too?”
“Of course not. You’re a victim.”
“No, I’m not,” she said, all her own anger and frustrations boiling to the surface again now. “You think that because it makes it easier, but I’m not. Any more than Mom is.”
“You’ve seen how Velvet is. Mom regrets what she did more than anything, and-”
“And I don’t,” Twilight said sharply, and oh it felt good to say, to see the first flashes of doubt flickering across Shining’s face. “I don’t regret what I did at all.”
“You’re just saying that to try and make a point,” Shining said, his anger again changing, still there but different, now filled with doubts and uncertainty and deep frustration at her continued denial.
“No, I’m not,” Twilight replied, and she was smiling even though every word stung like a whip. Even though her eyes were still bleary and her heart still hurt with every beat, she smiled at each and every memory she and her father had shared as they rolled through her mind and Shining gritted his teeth in fury. “I know I should,” she said, “but I don’t regret a single thing that happened.” She paused a moment. “Actually, I do regret one thing.” Twilight’s eyes narrowed as she stared Shining’s resistance down. “I regret that we didn’t lock the door.”
“He’s got you so twisted up,” Shining said, laughing with more bitterness than Twilight had ever heard from him. “This isn’t like you, Twilight. You’re better than this. You’re smarter than this.”
“And what about you? You’re so terrified Cadance doesn’t forgive you that you can’t even see that what Mom did was wrong. That maybe she doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”
“But you do?”
Twilight was smiling again, that strange smile that she wasn’t sure where it came from. “I don’t. None of us do.”
And for once Shining had nothing to say. Whatever he thought her response would be, it wasn’t that, and he had no answer for her. Instead he just stood there, mouth hanging dumbly open, moving ever so slightly as he tried to form words he couldn’t think of.
Twilight didn’t relent. “You keep trying to make Mom’s affair the same as the changeling queen hypnotising you, but it’s not, and you need to see that. I’m sorry about everything that happened to you, Shining, but it’s not the same. You didn’t choose Chrysalis, but Mom and I chose our mistakes. Dad did too. We don’t deserve forgiveness.”
The silence deafened. Twilight watched with mixed feelings as a whole spectrum of emotions danced across her brother’s face. She could tell how badly he wanted to prove her wrong, but finally the parallels he had drawn were starting to skew, finally he was starting to see Velvet in Twilight’s place rather than his own.
“You’re wrong.”
That wasn’t her brother. Twilight frowned at Cadance’s sudden interruption. Was she taking Shining Armor’s side? After everything the Princess had said? After everything she’d done?
After being the one pony that Twilight thought actually wanted to help?
But there was no trace of malice in her expression, not even the slightest shred of distaste. Or – and it would have been even worse – pity. Instead there was only that undeserved compassion she’d given Twilight all the while.
“Do you really think that?” Cadance asked. “Do you really think that Velvet shouldn’t be forgiven?”
Twilight hesitated.
“What about Night Light?”
“It’s not his fault,” Twilight said. “I was the one who-”
“Because I don’t think he deserves the callousness you’re suggesting,” said Cadance. “And I don’t think Velvet does either.”
“That wasn’t… I was just trying to-”
“And no matter how much you want us to hate you, I think you deserve better, too.”
This time it was Twilight’s turn to stand there in dumb silence. Cadance, the only one still sitting, and yet she dominated the room in a way that neither of the siblings had. Her gentle words washed over them and left Twilight even more lost than before. She had thought Cadance understood, but now she wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t so sure of anything.
“Why would I want you to hate me?” she asked.
“Because it’s easier,” Cadance answered. “Because that’s the only way you know how to explain yourself and the things you’ve done. You think you’re just a bad pony and everyone else should hate you for it, because then everything makes sense. Then you can protect Night Light because it’s not his fault. It’s not even your fault, not really. If you’re not a good pony then that’s just the way you are, and you can’t be blamed for that any more than rain could be blamed for being wet. It would simply be your nature.”
Twilight stared, unblinking. The candles flickered. The shadows danced.
“But you’re just doing the same as Shining,” Cadance continued. “You’re making this something it isn’t so you can understand it. So you can bear it. And when I look at you I don’t see the helpless victim that Shining thinks you are, but I don’t see the monster that you think you are, either.” Cadance stood now, too, seeming so tall in the room that all at once felt far too cramped for the three of them, and she stepped out of the shadow and into the candlelight that bathed all her features in a soft orange glow, and her smile was pure and real. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”
Twilight’s throat was dry and she had no words left, not for this. She shook her head slowly, silently.
“I just see you. Just Twilight. And you’re scared, and you’re sad, but it’s still you. Not a victim, not a monster. Just Twilight Sparkle, the same as you’ve ever been.”
“That’s not true,” Twilight murmured. “I changed.”
Cadance shook her head. “No, you didn’t. You fell in love and you made a mistake, but the Twilight I know won’t let that define her. She’s so much more than one regret, no matter how big it is.”
Cadance leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Twilight’s forehead, and it was like something broke inside her. Like Twilight had been locked away, screaming behind thick glass she could only stare out at the world through, and now that glass had shattered beneath Cadance’s gentleness and everything was all at once so clear, so real. Some haze of crushing doubt and self-disgust had gone, faded to nothing. She was Twilight Sparkle, Element of Magic. She had Princess Cadance on her side. She could take on the world and win, and this was nothing compared to the things she’d already faced and beaten before, no matter how personal, no matter much this one broke her heart. She still hadn’t the slightest idea how to stop her family collapsing around her, but for the first time, she was sure she could. They could. Somehow, they could.
Cadance stepped back and smiled warmly. “There she is.” She turned to her husband. “I hope you’ve gotten that out of your system, too.”
Shining nodded sheepishly. There wasn’t much else he could have done. Twilight could still see the pain clear on his features, but she didn’t regret her words, anything she’d said. It was all worth it to feel like this again, to feel in charge of her own destiny for the first time in all too long. Not that she had any certainty that this would end well, but for the first time it felt like it was worth trying.
“I’m sorry,” Shining muttered.
“Don’t be, that was important. For both of you.” Cadance gave his cheek a loving caress before turning her attention back to the room in general. “As I was saying, we need a plan.”
Shining opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, biting back the words that were trying so desperately to spill out.
“It’s fine, you’re right,” said Cadance. “We don’t even know what we’re planning for yet.”
As Shining agreed, Twilight couldn’t help but wonder how long it took couples to form that strange, almost psychic connection. Cadance always seemed so sure of what Shining was about to say, and as far as Twilight could tell she was almost always right.
But now Cadance was looking firmly at Twilight, and that brief moment of levity was gone and the Princess had never seemed more serious in all the times Twilight had seen her.
“Twilight, I’m going to ask you something very important. Don’t just tell me the first thing that comes to your mind, I want you to think about it. I want you to be sure.”
Twilight swallowed nervously. She was doing that voice again, the Princess one, the same one that made Twilight’s ears pin back and tuck her tail low whenever she heard Celestia use it. Steeling herself, she nodded.
But Cadance didn’t ask right away. She took a moment, reading Twilight’s features carefully for what felt like an age. Finally, she seemed satisfied, and asked her question.
“What is it that you want?”
***
Sunlight broached through the gap in the curtains, warming the bed sheets as Twilight lay in that wonderful, transitory place between sleep and waking, the place where everything was warm and fuzzy and unimportant, and she could nestle back in her father’s hooves around her and smile as he gave a half-asleep grunt at her movement. His embrace tightened, pulling her in closer and letting out a tired but contented sigh.
A long time ago – a lifetime, it seemed – Pinkie Pie had informed her during a sleepover that this was something called spooning. She’d assured Twilight that it felt ‘super awesome’, and had prefaced that with so many ‘really’s that Twilight had lost count. Twilight’s only experience with stallions had come from far less loving places, places with hoofcuffs and blindfolds, and so she’d been more than a little dubious of Pinkie’s claim. Now, though, snuggled against her father’s chest in warm happiness, memories from the pleasant evening before drifting through her dozing mind, the appeal was clear.
This was perfect. It was everything Twilight could have imagined, could have dreamed of, and more. No longer was her heart tearing itself to pieces at the mere sight of her father, no longer did she have to hide her desires and keep them locked away as they ate their way through her. Now she and her father could share everything, could be everything she had hoped they could be. They had to be careful, of course, had to keep it secret, but Twilight could do that.
As long as she had Night Light for moments like this, she could do anything. Sacrifice anything. It had seemed impossible even just a few days ago, but here they were. Twilight had told him how she felt, and instead of pushing her away as she’d feared, he’d pulled her closer. He’d seen how much she was hurting and had scooped her up in his hooves and told her he wanted her too, and now nothing could separate them.
There were still some doubts, of course. Worries, hesitations. What would they do if someone else found out, for example? That one weighed heavily on Twilight, and she wondered if Night Light was as terrified of the possibility as she was. He must have been, and yet still he was here, and the mere thought that he wanted her enough to push that aside sent another warm rush of happiness through her, tingling right to the tips of her hooves.
But they would still need to take every precaution. Her family would never understand how she felt, how she needed Night Light, how he needed her. They would never understand how much she yearned to be with him like this forever, for always. If they could just lie here wrapped up in each other’s hooves for eternity, Twilight would have no objections.
But of course they couldn’t.
Her father shifted uncomfortably behind her, disentangling himself from the embrace as he pulled himself upright.
“We should get up, kiddo,” he said. “We wouldn’t want someone to come looking for us.”
Twilight made a small, disappointed noise, but smiled when she heard Night Light laugh.
“I know, I know,” he said. “I want to stay here too.”
“Why don’t we?” she murmured into the pillow. “Just for a little while.”
There was a quiet moment from behind her, and then felt the soft brush of Night Light’s lips against her neck as he kissed her. “Maybe just a little while,” he agreed, nuzzling against her fur. Even just his gentle touch was enough to send a shiver of sparks across her skin. Even the gentlest of his kisses were red hot fire that burned in the best of ways, leaving her flushed and yearning. She rolled over to face him, and now their kiss was shared, and Twilight gave everything she had to it, losing herself – losing everything – in his embrace. She really could stay here forever, wrapped up in his warmth, his scent, his love, feeling his hardening length pressing against her thigh, feeling his hips buck ever so gently as his shaft brushed against her fur.
Their kiss grew more earnest, more needy, more desperate, filled with pants and gasps for snatches of breath before each would dive back into the other. When finally they broke apart for a moment it was out of necessity, both of them lying there, breathing so heavily. And in those deep, amber eyes across from her, Twilight searched. She searched for even the slightest of hesitations, any doubts or fears or reservations about this, about them. She had to know for sure. She had to see.
But she found nothing. There was only the most genuine love there, and no matter how hard Twilight looked she couldn’t find even a hint of unease. There was something else, though. A tinge of something much more feral and primal; the same thing that had driven them together in the first place.
Lust.
Twilight smiled as they kissed again, this time more gently, still filled with all the affection from before but far less frantic. This time they simply enjoyed themselves, enjoyed the other’s closeness and comfort. Night Light’s hooves slid across her fur, roaming across the contours of her body, and she let out a squeak of surprise as one reached her rump and tightened its grip, pulling her tightly to him and pinning his length against her stomach.
Well, if he wanted it that badly…
And Twilight wanted it too, oh fuck how she wanted it, she couldn’t wait any longer. Now that she had him all to herself there was no need to wait, no need for longing and holding back, staring out through a gap in a closet door as the pony she wanted more than anything lay with someone else. And so she broke the kiss, and quickly dismissed Night Light’s disapproving grunt by moving to his neck, kissing and nipping gently as she went. And then lower, over his chest, leaving a trail of her kisses all the way down until his stallionhood was pressing against her cheek and it was so warm and so ready and his musk filled her head until there was nothing else left.
Her love burned so hot it almost hurt, her heart threatening to burst from the way he looked down at her then. She’d been so scared just a couple of evenings ago, telling him how she felt, so terrified he would cast her away, that he would think so much less of her. That would have been the worst part.
But now she was between his legs and he wanted her as bad as she did him, and nothing made her happier than the sharp hiss of breath between his teeth as she took him into her mouth. She grinned around him as he gripped the bedsheets and groaned out loud.
“Oh fuck.”
***
The memory dwindled. Night Light was gone. She was back in the room of flickering shadows and Cadance was still waiting for the answer that Twilight now had – had known all along, deep down.
And it hurt. It hurt so much, knowing after everything that her happiness was out of reach once again. She’d remembered just how good it had felt, not just the sex but every part of it, every part of him. His touch, his smile, his embrace, his love. That was what Twilight wanted. She wanted him, she wanted everything he could give her. She wanted Night Light almost more than anything she’d ever wanted.
Almost, but not quite. Because there was another side to love, wasn’t there? Another thing that was far more important than her own happiness, her own satisfaction. Something she treasured and wanted to protect far more than those perfect moments she’d shared with her father. Something she’d already ruined and shattered, and it was all her fault, and those moments hurt even more than the ache in her chest when she imagined letting Night Light go forever.
Those moments in the hallways where he had walked past her without even glancing in her direction. The way Night Light’s face had fallen when she’d given him Shining’s ultimatum. The heartbreak that had been all too clear as she’d pushed him away by the lakeside. And the wrenching pain in his voice when he’d called after her as she stumbled back to the house, his anguish ringing in her ears with every step.
Twilight looked up at Cadance and gave the only answer she could. “I just want him to be happy.”
Cadance smiled in a way that suggested she’d always known that would be Twilight’s response, that she’d just been waiting for her to say it. “That’s a good answer,” she said. “We can work with that.”