“Ngh…” Twilight shuddered as another orgasm rolled through her, tingling sparks flooding right to the very tips of her hooves. Her foreleg was soaked now, the base of her tail plastered to the bedsheets, but finally she could let herself drop backwards, satisfied.
Except not really. No, despite several climaxes, despite the fact she’d been at it so long that she’d started to ache, satisfaction was well out of her reach. There was no respite to be had now, not since the incident in the bathroom that she wanted more than anything to forget.
That she wanted more than anything to remember forever.
Twilight groaned and shoved her face into the depths of the pillow she’d been desperately clutching moments before in the vain hope it might help. And maybe it did, just a little bit. When she was a little foal she’d done the same thing, burying everything that troubled her in soft darkness. It had been more effective back then, when all she worried about was exam results and deadlines and impressing Celestia. When both she and her problems had been small. Bigger things were harder to bury.
“Twilight?”
A voice outside her door. Twilight froze for a second before diving beneath her covers, arranging herself as best she could to make it look like she hadn’t spent the last however long clopping herself stupid.
“Y-yes?”
“Velvet’s made breakfast, and she asked me to come see if you were up. I take it you are, then?”
Cadance.
“Yeah, I’ll… I’ll be down in just a minute!” Twilight called back, hoping against hope that the tremors in her still-shaky voice weren’t noticeable.
“Okay then. See you downstairs.”
There was a long, arduous pause before the sound of Cadance’s retreating hoofsteps finally reached Twilight’s ears and she let herself relax again. She was being much too jumpy, she knew, but some small, irrational part of her truly believed that Cadance would know exactly what had been on her mind if she had been caught. Exactly which stallion towered above her in unbidden fantasies, running his dark blue hooves softly through her fur.
And even less than that, sometimes. Perhaps just memories of the way he smiled at her, head slightly tilted. Just the way he laughed, ever so softly, or how he’d drag his hoof slowly through his mane when he was tired. Everything so familiar and comforting and-
Something stirred in her, and she quickly cast the thoughts aside. But as clarity returned, so did another, nameless feeling she’d been trying to push out. It wasn’t guilt, exactly. Twilight felt no guilt at all for her actions, even though she knew she really should. And that was the crux of it – guilt would have been manageable. Expected. Not feeling it was somehow worse, like a confirmation of how depraved this whole situation was turning out to be.
It’s time to stop, Twilight.
The voice was Celestia’s. Whenever her inner conscience decided to reprimand her, it would always be the Princess.
Night Light is your father, my little pony. Nothing more, nothing less. You must begin to see him that way again, not as the blindfolded stallion you want him to be.
“I’m trying!” she protested.
Are you?
Twilight wished she could answer that.
***
“I did it, I did it!” Twilight shouted happily, the small rock in front of her trembling in her magic’s glow. It wasn’t the steadiest as far as floating rocks went, but that didn’t matter because she was the one holding it there and that was the only thing that was important.
“Great job, kiddo!” Her father beamed at her as he ruffled the little filly’s mane.
The little distraction was too much, though, and with a tiny “Eep!” Twilight’s magic fizzled and died, the rock hitting the ground with a thud. Immediately her gleeful expression was replaced by one of utter despair. And slowly even that began to change, a deep frown carving its way into her forehead.
“Twilight? Are-”
Before her father could even really begin his question Twilight gave the stone a savage kick, sending it flying in a cloud of dust.
“This whole thing’s stupid,” she proclaimed, sullenly dropping to her haunches.
She expected Night Light to get angry, or at the very least upset, but he did neither. Instead her father silently walked over to where the rock had landed, picked it up in his hoof, and returned it to the ground in front of her.
It didn’t take long for Twilight to kick it away again.
This time she was sure he’d lose his temper, that he’d shout and yell at her for being such a spoiled filly. He didn’t. Once more he walked to where it lay, collected it, then wordlessly set it down by her hooves, only for her to fling it away again.
They repeated this five times. On the sixth it was Twilight who shouted.
“Why do you keep bringing it back?! I don’t want to do this anymore!”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t, and I’m never going to be able to and I’m better off just giving up right now.”
“That’s not true. You were levitating that rock not five minutes ago.” Night Light, satisfied she wasn’t going to hurl the offending object away again, sat down beside her. Twilight didn’t look at him.
“But I dropped it,” she said.
“Yes, you did.”
Her father’s statement stung more than she thought it would. It was so matter-of-fact. So… final. Twilight had dropped the rock. She was terrible at magic.
“And I did too, when I first tried,” he continued. “So did your mother, so did your brother. I bet even Princess Celestia dropped the first thing she tried to levitate.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Doubt me all you want, kiddo, the point is that you don’t have to succeed right away. Or even the time after that. You don’t need to be perfect.”
“You never drop stuff.”
“No, but I’ve had a lot of practice. You just have to give it time.”
“But what if I don’t get any better? What if I drop it again?”
“Then you pick it up and keep trying.”
Twilight snorted, and her father sighed.
“You know what I think?” he asked.
“What?” Twilight’s reply was bitter and cold.
“I think you’re so scared of failing that you can’t even imagine success. That’s silly, Twilight. If everypony gave up the first time something didn’t go perfectly, nothing would ever get done.” He rested a hoof on her shoulder. “We all fall down sometimes, kiddo; you just have to keep picking yourself up.”
Twilight said nothing, but when her father nudged the rock a little nearer to her she didn’t toss it aside.
“And I know you can do it,” he said.
“How?”
Her father smiled. She couldn’t see it, eyes still cast to floor, but she could hear it in his voice. “Because you’ve done it once already.”
And though Twilight didn’t look up, though she didn’t reply, her horn began to glow once more.
***
“Hey, Twily!” Shining Armor trotted down the corridor, a stupid grin plastered onto his face.
“Jeez Shining, couldn’t you wait more than five minutes after breakfast?”
Her father had been absent at the table that morning, much to Twilight’s relief. It wasn’t unusual, given how late he stayed up, but she’d still half-expected him to be there, staring at her accusingly. It had occurred to Twilight how easy it would be for him to mention the bathroom to Velvet, and just how badly that could end. Fortunately, her mother’s high-spirits suggested it hadn’t come to that. At least not yet.
Still, now she wanted nothing more than to slink back to her room and hide herself under the covers again, and Shining Armor was making that difficult.
His smile didn't even falter at her question. “No, this is way too awesome to wait.”
Twilight sighed. “I’m almost scared to ask.”
“Aw, come on! You gotta see it to appreciate it.”
“The last time you said that we both ended up covered in mud and freezing half to death, all because you swore you’d seen a monster at the end of the river.”
“You still remember that? Way to hold a grudge.”
“It was a tree, Shining! How did you even…”
“In my defence, it was a really weird looking tree. And anyway, this is different. Promise.”
Twilight sighed. “Pinkie promise?”
“I… don’t know what that is. I guess I do?”
“Alright, but now if this isn’t the most amazing thing ever, you have to stick a cupcake in your eye.”
“Er…” Shining shrugged. “Deal.”
***
Twilight had to admit, her brother’s discovery was pretty ‘awesome’. It was a shame in some ways – she’d been quite looking forward to seeing him struggle with a cupcake.
“See? I don’t know why you ever doubt me, Twily.”
“Oh, I can think of one or two reasons. Or, like, a hundred.”
“Yeah yeah, whatever,” he replied, nudging her in the ribs. “Now come on, I’ll set it up.”
Shining Armor, to Twilight’s complete and utter lack of surprise, had found the manor’s games room.
As luxurious as the rest of the mansion, this particular area seemed hardly touched, as though Celestia had ordered it built and then promptly forgotten it existed. Everything was immaculate, from the dartboard which had never seen a single throw against it to the couches that could have come out of their wrappings five minutes ago. The room was lined with all manner of exotic and beautifully crafted games tables, only half of which Twilight recognised, and dominating the centre was a particularly expensive-looking billiards table, which Shining Armor was confidently striding towards.
“When did you find this place, anyway?” she asked.
“Yesterday,” replied Shining, beginning to rack the balls. “But I haven’t told anyone else yet.”
“Not even Cadance? She’d love this.”
Her brother gave her a sidelong look. “Exactly.”
“Huh?”
“You know Cadance; she gets way too competitive over stuff like this. Remember the train journey over here?”
“Oh, I see.” Twilight grinned wickedly. “You’re scared she’s going to beat you again.”
“No, no, that’s not-”
“Well,” she interrupted, horn bursting to life as she grabbed a pool cue off the wall, “I’m afraid you picked the wrong pony to play against if you wanted to win.”
“Is that so? That sounds suspiciously like a challenge…”
“Hm, I suppose it does, doesn’t it?”
Shining Armor leant back against the table, propping up his cue against his shoulder. “Alright Twily, if you’re so sure of yourself, let’s up the stakes.”
“With what?” Twilight asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t bring many bits with me. Not enough to compete with a Prince’s funds, anyway.”
Her brother snorted. “You’re thinking way too small. No, I was thinking more along the lines of the bets we made when we were younger.”
“You mean… dares? Remind me, how old are you again?”
“Hey, if you don’t think you’ll win, it’s fine,” he said, far too nonchalantly. “We’ll just play some regular, boring pool.”
“I know what you’re doing, Shining. Reverse psychology is supposed to be subtle.”
“Ah, but is it working?”
Twilight frowned. “Yes.”
And of course it was. Shining knew just how much she loved beating him at his own game – she’d never be able to resist. His triumphant smirk only confirmed it was the right decision.
“Alright then,” he said, “you go first.”
Twilight didn’t take long to decide. “If I win,” she began, deliberately pausing for too long just to watch him squirm, “you have to wear whatever I pick out for you for the rest of the day.”
Shining wrinkled his nose. “It’s gonna be a girl’s outfit, isn’t it?”
“Oh, it is definitely going to be a girl’s outfit.”
“Damn, that’s a good one.” But Shining’s smile didn’t waver. He was up to something, and Twilight wasn’t sure she wanted to find out what. “But if I win…” Her brother made the same show of pausing dramatically, even with Twilight rolling her eyes at him. “Well, you remember the sandwich I made on the way over here?”
Here we go...
“You have to eat three of them, right before dinner. I’ll make sure you get an extra large helping, too.”
Ah, so that was it. Petty revenge. “Suddenly, all this makes sense,” said Twilight. “I should’ve guessed.”
“Do we have a deal?” asked Shining, ignoring her and holding out a hoof.
“Duh.” She tapped her own hoof against his outstretched one. There was no backing out now; giving up would be forfeit.
But that was okay – Twilight had no intention of losing.
***
The problem with pool, at least in Twilight’s eyes, was that neither of them were very good at it. Shining Armor had learned long ago not to challenge Twilight to any games that required too much thought, and in turn she avoided anything necessitating large amounts of physical effort.
Pool, however, was a game of precision and practice, which put the siblings on a roughly even playing field. And this time Shining was winning.
Yet another ball dropped into a pocket, and her brother hoof-pumped the air. “I hope you’re hungry, Twilight.”
“Starving, thank you.” she replied icily. “And you haven’t won yet.”
“Not yet, no. Not yet.” Another thunk, another pot, and Shining became one step closer to victory. “But if I were you,” he continued, “I’d be getting worried.”
Twilight became considerably less worried when his next shot missed completely.
“You’re right,” she said, snickering into her hoof. “I’m terrified.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s see you do better.”
“Gladly,” said Twilight, with much more conviction than she felt.
As the game continued Twilight did manage to pull back into the running a little, making up for her poor start after some dreadful shots by Shining Armor, but it still wasn’t enough to beat him to the 8-ball. With only a single of her stripes left Twilight messed up, her ball bouncing uselessly off the corner of a pocket as the white ended in the perfect position for Shining to take the win.
“Don’t even say it,” Twilight warned, stepping back from the table and pointing her cue at her brother like a spear, close enough to his face that he went cross-eyed trying to focus on the end.
“I’m hurt you think I’d say anything,” protested Shining as he pushed the cue away and prepared to deliver the killing blow. “Honestly, what do you take me for? To think I’d gloat over utterly crushing you into the ground, or that I’d boast about just how much I’ve beaten you, or that I’d-”
“Shining?”
“Yeah?”
“Just take the shot.”
Her brother grinned. “Whatever you say.”
Thunk.
The 8-ball began its fateful journey to the end of the table, Twilight able to do nothing but watch as Shining’s triumph rolled ever closer. And then, just as it reached the very edge of the pocket, the ball stopped dead.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding…” muttered Shining.
Twilight, on the other hoof, was suddenly filled with newfound hope. A hope she quickly realised by potting everything left on the table. The look on her brother’s face as Twilight snatched the win right out from under his nose was priceless.
“I’ve decided I don’t like this game,” he announced, as the 8-ball dropped out of sight.
“Don’t worry BBBFF,” said Twilight brightly. “I’ll make sure I choose something really pretty to cheer you up!”
Shining’s expression suggested he’d never be cheerful again.
***
“Jackpot.”
Twilight grinned as she surveyed the kaleidoscope of colour the closet offered her. It had taken a while to find this, tucked away in one of the multitude of bedrooms that dotted the manor, but now she was spoiled for choice. All kinds of dresses and skirts and ridiculously over-the-top outfits hung on display, and Shining would hate all of them. The hard part was finding the one he’d dislike the most.
It was a large, walk-in closet, and Twilight stepped inside to better see what she was dealing with. Most of the clothes looked as though they hadn't been worn for years – everything smelled slightly of mothballs, which really only added to how much fun she was going to have showing it to Shining Armor. Celestia wouldn’t mind, she was sure of that. The princess had probably forgotten these outfits even existed, and this was definitely part of a greater good.
As Twilight leafed further through the selection, she began to wonder if Celestia had actually worn any of it even once. Some of the ball gowns were okay, but imagining the Princess in a flowery dress complete with oversized sun hat was difficult. The same applied to the particularly skimpy swimsuit Twilight found next. It always struck her as odd how something like that seemed even more revealing than bare fur.
And now she was imagining her brother in it.
An image she’d sooner forget, Twilight quickly returned to the task at hoof. The next dress she found was the worst thing she’d ever seen; all clashing colours, frills and lace and ridiculous bits of ribbon which seemed to go nowhere and serve no purpose even as decoration. If Rarity had seen it she’d likely tell Twilight it was better off being incinerated, and Twilight was inclined to agree. It was perfect.
And when she heard someone fumbling at the door behind her she turned with the most innocent smile she could muster, ready to show her brother exactly what he was in for. It took a second for her to recognise the voices and realise her mistake. It wasn’t Shining. It wasn’t him at all.
Night Light and Twilight Velvet swept into the room, oblivious to the closet door closing silently beside them. They were far too preoccupied in each other to take in little details like that, falling sideways onto the bed, limbs entwined. Velvet’s horn flared and the door locked behind them. As far as her parents were concerned, they were alone. Their daughter certainly couldn’t be staring at them through a crack in the closet door, heart caught in her chest.
Look away.
It was Celestia’s voice again, the one of reason, of clarity and perfect sense. The one Twilight knew she should listen to.
Just look away.
But she didn’t. Couldn’t. Not as Night Light rolled atop Velvet and began to move down her body, lips playing over her fur as he did so. Twilight's mother gasped at his touch, melting against him as he moved lower.
Look away. Cover your ears.
But instead she heard every tremulous sound her father caused. Saw every nip, every brush against Velvet’s fur. Twilight almost felt it.
“Stop teasing…” Velvet murmured, shifting impatiently beneath him.
“But you make it so easy.” As if to prove his point, Night Light ran a hoof up the inside of her thigh, grinning when she shuddered at his touch. He laughed softly at her reaction, before acquiescing and lowering his head the rest of the way. Immediately Velvet bit down on her hoof, not quite able to fully silence the moan which broke out.
“Ngh…”
From her position Twilight couldn’t really see Night Light’s movements, buried as he was between Velvet’s legs, but she could certainly see the effect they were having, her mother writhing and twisting and clutching vainly at the bedsheets.
And she remembered first-hand how his tongue had felt diving into her; how he had explored every inch, making her moan into the gag as Velvet did now into her hoof.
Oh, how she remembered that.
Velvet gave a last, loud cry, shuddering as Night Light sent her over the edge, and Twilight bit down hard on her lip, so hard she almost drew blood. But still she couldn’t close her eyes. Not as her father pulled back, gently planting kisses on Velvet’s stomach even as she continued to squirm, a deep flush in her cheeks.
And now Night Light was clambering above Velvet again, and Twilight wanted nothing more than to look away, just to look away like she knew she would if some twisted thing inside of her didn’t make it impossible to tear her eyes from them.
Watch, it said, in a voice that was far from Celestia’s and filled with bitterness. Watch.
So Twilight watched. She watched as Night Light pushed into Velvet, watched as his hooves tightened around her hips, pulling her down onto his length. Everything in explicit, minute detail, down to the way the muscles tightened beneath his flank as he thrust, or how a single strand of his mane stuck between his eyes.
Is that how he’d looked above her? It was so easy to imagine him now, to see him pressing down on her back, making her hoofcuffs clink against the floor as he fucked her. And even as the thought sent a shameful but oh-so-welcome flush of heat through her body, Twilight hated it. Hated it both because he was her father and it should never have happened in the first place, and because she knew it would never happen again.
Velvet moaned quietly again, muted this time not by a hoof but by Night Light’s lips locked against hers, before he broke away and began to kiss against her neck instead. Her hooves reached up, one pawing through his mane while the other trailed over his back. In the closet, Twilight dug her own hooves into the carpet.
When Night Light gasped – breathless and panting – another tingle slid through her, right down her spine to the base of her tail. Twilight refused to let it affect her, to let it make her hoof wander between her legs, or light up her horn. Not now, not to this.
Oh but it was so tempting. She didn’t see her mother out there, not really. Twilight saw a very different unicorn, bound and gagged, mane matted against lavender fur. And, despite cursing herself for even thinking it, she wished he saw that too. That behind the eyes he’d scrunched shut as he made love to his wife, he was instead remembering a long ago night in a room very different to this.
But he wasn’t, she knew. Night Light had probably cast it aside as a one night thing that meant nothing to him now. A mistake. And that thought finally broke Twilight, her eyes beginning to mist as she tore them from the sight of her parents at last, sinking to the floor of the closet and curling into a ball and trying to shut out the sounds of mounting passion that filled the room.
This is pathetic. It was the bitter voice again, the not-Celestia that she couldn’t quite place. Look at you, heart-broken because your father prefers to rut his wife to his daughter.
Go away.
And now you’re trying to argue with your own thoughts. Could you get any worse?
Go away.
Scratch that, this isn’t even arguing, kiddo.
And now Twilight recognised the bitter voice. It was warped, yes, but enough of him was left.
Do you think this is something he would have wanted? it continued. His own daughter lusting after him? Do you think if he’d known for one second it was you in those hoofcuffs he’d have carried on?
No, was her unspoken and unwanted answer.
No, the voice concluded smugly.
And yet, despite everything, Twilight found a strange resolve building within her. Because now she realised Night Light had crossed a line first. He was just as bad as her, looking for fulfilment in that place where names were left at the door. Worse, perhaps. The shame that had been plaguing her began to fade away at that simple realisation, that her father was no more perfect than she was.
And with it gone, the desire that had been hidden away washed over her once again. She’d seen the way Velvet quivered at his touch, and remembered how warm his weight above her had been, how warm all of him had been. She needed that again. Celestia, she needed that.
For the first time, Twilight wanted to tell her father everything.
The bitter version of him was silent at her conclusion, and as Twilight began to take in her surroundings once again, she realised the real Night Light was too. Her parents were gone, and judging by the stiffness in her legs probably had been for some time.
Twilight didn’t know how long she’d been curled up in the closet for, but it was long enough. The room still carried a hint of musk; other than the messed up bedcovers it was the only remnant of her parents’ presence.
But as she left the room, Twilight felt as though a weight had been lifted. She was going to tell her father exactly who he had been with that night. She was going to tell him she needed him, and most importantly she was going to get him to need her too. Twilight knew she could do it.
After all, she’d done it once already.