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// 28: Over Again [Sad] [Romance] 
// Story: Thirty Minutes of Fabulosity 
// by Esle Ynopemos 
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((Prompt: I stood up, my heart pounding, the lump in my throat refusing to be swallowed, my legs shaking with each timid step. I crossed the room and looked in their eyes, finally saying what I’ve needed to say all along, and they replied with a hollow smile and the words I knew would tear my world apart.))

She opens the bedchamber door, and I can see it in her eyes. Celestia, it's like stepping on glass every time I see that look. Guilt and shame haunt her, strangling the gleam out of her eyes. Fear pulls her features taut—though whether she's more afraid of me or of herself, I'll never know. That look turns my stomach into cement and makes my legs want to buckle. I see that look and I know.

It's happened again.

Sometimes I just wish she would try and hide it from me. What an awful thought to have! Who actually wishes her wife would sneak around behind her back? All of Twilight's damnable books on relationship counseling say that openness and honesty are critical to a healthy marriage. But sometimes I think to myself, if it's already unhealthy, is it so wrong that I get tired of seeing the sick parts of it?

Ugh, listening to me, you would think we're teetering on the brink at every moment. It isn't like that. Twilight and I are very happy together most days, and incidents like this don't happen as often as the tabloids would have you believe. I am royalty because she loves me. I still love her back as much today as I did back when she swept me off to Canterlot with her, put a ring on my horn and made me into the Princess Without Wings.

Sure, we aren't perfect, but what couple is? We get on very well, considering the circumstances...

But still, it hurts me deep when this happens and I see that look in her eyes again. She pushes the door open wider, and I get a look at who the other mare is this time.

I am surprised to see it's one of us. I suppose chamber maids and visiting diplomats just aren't enough for her anymore. Or maybe she just needed a taste of Ponyville. Fluttershy stands very still, staring at the floor. Usually at least some of her face is visible behind her mane, but right now there is only a droopy pink mane sputtering something. I think she is trying over and over again to say, “sorry,” but it's only coming out as hushed squeaks.

I tell Fluttershy she can go. This isn't her fault, not really. In the last few years, I have discovered that Twilight can be frighteningly persuasive when she sets her mind to something. Given her natural charisma, her role as the respected leader among the six of us, and her persistence, I can't imagine the poor dear stood much of a chance against the will of Princess Twilight Sparkle.

Fluttershy leaves, and it's just us now. Canterlot's Royal Couple. Twilight's eyes dart around, falling everywhere except on my own. As angry as I am, I can't really blame her, either. After her transformation, she began developing certain... appetites that frightened her even more than they frightened me. Celestia and Luna do not know what the cause is, nor can Cadance provide any insight. Twilight has to fight an uphill battle to keep her impulses in check. Today is one of the days she failed.

She takes a small step forward, her eyes brimming with tears. The words are hard for her. They always are, because she truly means them every time. “Rarity... I'm so sorry.” She breaks into sobs, and it is all I can do to keep from wrapping her in my forelegs and brushing the tears from her cheeks.

I know what response she is looking for. I know the words she—goodness, what a morbid thought, the words she is hoping I'll say, if only to get it over and done with. She is waiting for me to tell her that it's over. That I've had my fill, and have finally decided it's time to leave.

But I suppose I am not as generous as they say I am. I won't give her that. I am greedy and cruel, and I am keeping my princess, even if it means breaking my own heart, and hers.

I pull her into a tight embrace with one hoof, and run the other through her mane, following the bold pink stripe down the back of her neck. “Hush darling,” I tell her. “I still love you.”