Twilight Sparkle
Sunday. My favorite day of the week. My day off.
I stretch my legs and wings wide in my comfortable bed, yawning. It’s five thirty am. sharp, and time for Princess Twilight Sparkle to get herself up and about, even if the siren song of five more minutes beckons me back to the realm of slumber.
A mare has to keep to her schedule, after all.
Out of habit, my head drifts towards the plus-sized bed normally occupied by my number one assistant. He’s still a heavy sleeper, that one. If anything, age and the innate draconic tendency to long periods of dormancy followed by brief spouts of intense activity have only made the problem worse. Well, that and Spike’s remarkable ability to ignore even my most cleverly enchanted alarms.
I rub the last of the sleep from my eyes and… huh? …Oh, that’s right.
Twilight you goof, Spike isn’t here right now.
As it does once every twenty years, the dragon mating season has come. All dragons of sufficient maturity feel the inborn call to distant Southern Badlands. This year, Spike confided in me that he wanted to go. Alone this time. We’ve been to the last three, but only for research purposes. I must say that the results were quite fascinating and well worth the numerous burns and hasty flights for one’s life inevitably endured in the course of such field work. I would highly recommend any interested parties consult my recently published work Fiery Passion: The Draconic Reproduction Cycle, which hopefully should have been removed from the erotic literature shops by now. Some ponies just don’t…
Sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?
Anyway, the point is: Spike wanted to go on his own this year, and I promised to let him. For the next six months, two weeks, three days, and approximately nine hours, if my calculations are accurate, it’s just me and the staff here. I never truly enjoyed having guards or servants, but Princess Celestia says image is important for royalty.
I make my way to my bedroom window in time to watch Celestia’s sun peak over the mountains and cast its light down on Ponyville. No matter how many times I see it, watching that heavenly body bathe the slowly waking world in its warm radiance always puts a smile on my face. It never fails to remind me of my mentor – I’ll always think of her that way, no matter what she says about us being equals now. Princess Celestia may be away right now, but her star is always there to give me fond memories of the mare who’s been a virtual second mother to me.
Today, the sun looks down on a very different Ponyville than the one I first arrived in all those centuries ago. A full-fledged alicorn princess living in a crystal tree-palace for generations will do that to a small town. Now Ponyville is a large city in its own right, with a population of hundreds of thousands of souls spread across mile after mile of flatlands. Apart from the Everfree Nature Preserve, I can’t see anything but buildings and roads for miles around my house. The city itself is a fusion of the ultra-modern Manehatten approach to innovation with the ageless grace and classical elegance of Canterlot. At least, that’s how the travel brochures describe our fair town.
I don’t mean to sound like I’m boasting or anything, but I like to think that I’ve played a substantial role in turning our fair community into a beacon of learning. Directly beside my castle is the University of Friendship (they wanted to call it Princess Twilight University, but I told them off), where students from all over our nation and beyond come to study. I like to teach classes there when I can find some room in my schedule, and give guest lectures when I can’t. Another institution I played a part in creating is the Museum of Harmony, a gallery dedicated to the pivotal moments in our time as the Elements of Harmony. My friends may have chosen to pass away, but I’ve at least ensured that their story is remembered and celebrated. It’s the least I could do for them.
With a final stretch of my wings to rid them of the last knots and stiffness, I turn away from looking down on Ponyville. Time for some breakfast. Most days I have to allow somepony else to make it simply because of limited scheduling, but on Sundays I can take the extra few minutes to pop down to the kitchen and make it myself. No sense in getting a big head and thinking myself above mundane activities of daily life.
I make something simple: oats, with a dash of cinnamon and some blueberries for added flavor. My kitchen staff (had to hire them after Spike got too big to properly work the equipment) have today off, so it’s just me in there, humming a little tune and using magic to assemble my morning meal. I trot out of the kitchen and simply munch from the bowl as I walk, enjoying the break from protocol.
Today’s my personal day, so you know what that means: books, books, and more books!
First I’ll sort, catalog, and file away all the new additions to my collection I’ve received over the last week. Then I’ll work on my latest work to be published. Next, I’ll settle down and do some light calculus exercises to keep the old noggin’ sharp. And then I can sit back and check the newest textbook editions at the University for accuracy. And then I get to-
Sorry, rambling again. Old habit.
Anyhow, I could teleport straight to my library, but I prefer to walk when I can. On my short journey through the castle, I graciously receive the salutes of guards and the bows of servants as best I am able with my face half stuck into a bowl and my mouth full of oats. I’m not exactly the model of royal dignity that my mentor possesses (except when around cake).
The hall outside my library is filled with pictures and portraits of ponies significant to me. One I’m especially fond of is the group shot of me with Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, and Rainbow Dash. I miss them every day, but I acknowledge and respect their decision to move on rather than accept a new form like Shining Armor did. Another is a family portrait of Mom, Dad, Shining, Cadence, my husband Flash Sentry, and I. Only half of those ponies are around anymore, but I can still cherish my memories of those that are gone. I also have an official portrait of myself alongside Princesses Celestia, Luna, and Cadence. I remember holding that pose for hours waiting for our painter to get everything just right.
Right beside the double doors leading to my private library are another picture of myself and my friends, and another of my husband and I with our foals. My two daughters, Morning Shimmer and Vivid Star, and my son, Astral Haze. The last, my youngest, was nothing more than an infant colt cradled in my wing when we took that picture. Now he’s centuries dead, along with almost everypony else. I have descendants, but they’ve spread out all over Equestria and sadly don’t tend to visit me much.
Still… if I had to do it all over again, I’d make the same decisions. I mourn my friends, but the time we spent together changed my life, and the world itself, permanently for the better. And being a wife and a mother was like no experience I’ve ever had, before or since. My little ones… I can’t be with you anymore, but wherever you all are I hope you know that Mommy still loves you and always will.
It’s bittersweet to be regularly reminded of everypony I’ve known and lost, but keeping them alive in your heart is the key to making sure that it was all worth it. That’s what Princess Celestia taught me, and gods know she’s seen loss: her parents, her caretakers, her husband, her children, her sister, and even her race itself, all gone. A thousand years of loneliness, with nopony but herself for company. I hope and pray I never have to experience anything like that.
In a somewhat more reflective mood after my trot through my portrait gallery, I open the doors to the vast labyrinth that is my personal library. To put the sheer size of the thing into perspective, if I hadn’t enchanted the room’s dimensions to be spatially distorted into fitting inside the castle’s original space, my library would take up far more room than the entire crystal castle itself. A pony could get lost in here for days if she’s not careful and/or spontaneously decides to reorganize the whole thing.
Not that that’s ever happened to me, of course.
I take a few steps in, to my sorting desk near the entrance. There, I store all the books that I’m given as gifts, receive in tribute, purchase myself, retrieve from an ancient ruin, or otherwise acquire during my week for classification, labeling, and shelf assignment. This week is relatively light load – only twenty six books to classify.
Well, I’d better get to- Huh?
A letter appears in front of my face in a flare of light. I remove my muzzle from the bowl I had been focused on cleaning out to take a better look. Only a few ponies (and one dragon) have the spell to contact me this way. Otherwise, I’d be buried in a perpetual rain of mail. It’s unscheduled, but I trust it must be something important.
I open the scroll and read over it quickly:
Dear Twilight,
While I’m reluctant as ever to worry my LSBFF, I think I may not have a choice here. Something’s wrong with Cadence, and I need your help investigating what exactly it is. You’re the only pony I can think of skilled enough in magic to do what I have in mind. Please reply as soon as you can, and when you have time I ask that you come to meet me in the Crystal Empire. I’ll explain more then.
Your BBBFF,
Shining Armor
My eyes go wide, and I toss what’s left of my breakfast aside. Cadence is in trouble? Shining needs my help? He doesn’t need to ask me twice. Of course I’ll help my family.
My pen is already writing a swift reply without my needing to look at it as I dash right back out the library door. Books will just have to wait.
Shining Armor
“Mmmmmm… Shiny…” my wife twitches underneath me. “Don’t stop…”
We’re lying on our bed, myself on top and Cadence on the bottom. All four of her long legs are wrapped around my smaller form, and her wings are gently brushing my flanks. I can see that this is happening, and the magic in my brain tells me where she’s touching, but I don’t get any sensation from it. In turn, my front legs are around her neck, and my rear ones encircle her lower stomach. It’s as close as we can get to being intimate these days.
I nibble on her soft pink neck some more, and Cadence giggles from her bottom position. She gives me a long, slow kiss on the cheek, running her tongue over the hard, polished rock of my body. The long, flowing pink, violet, and yellowy-white hairs of her mane float this way and that, gently wrapping themselves about my face, neck, and chest. A few even cross my eyes.
I keep nuzzling and playing with her neck and face, stroking her mane as I bite and lick (I wet my mouth for this) her perfect rosy complexion. I can see a faint blush underneath the pink fur, and I press further. My hormones are long gone, but I’ll be damned if this isn’t bringing back fond memories. I sense the ghost of feeling where my… masculine parts once were. I want this gorgeous divinity lying on my bed, and I want her now.
But I can’t have her. Not the way I want to. That was a sacrifice I willingly made, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish things were different, especially right at this moment.
“Please…” her breaths are speeding up, and she’s having a bit of trouble stopping “Please Shiny… don’t stop…”
“Your wish is my command, your majesty,” I answer, trying to sound passionate, which is harder than you’d think without a heart to race or adrenaline to pump through your veins or breath to desperately gasp for.
Cadence twitches and gasps as I go directly for her sensitive ears, pulling at her mane all the while. Her wings cease their tender strokes and stand at attention, while I sense her lower legs releasing me and going wide. I press on, pulling her divine mane almost to the breaking point, grasping her neck to the edge of strangulation, clamping down hard on her rosy flesh with my teeth, and knowing full well what’s about to happen. Even after all this time it still seems a bit like sacrilege to do this to a demigoddess on earth, but that’s what she likes.
“Oh… Oh… Oh… Oooooh…” my wife’s body twitches and jerks underneath me, spasming violently in response to my touch. Then, all of a sudden, it’s over. Like somepony hit a switch, her wings droop down, her forelegs release me, the hairs of her mane fall away, and she lays flat on her back and moans contentedly. “Aaaaaahhh…”
I look down and smile at her. So many memories…
Without warning, the warm smile vanishes from her face. Cadence sniffs and looks up at me, eyes visibly watering. “S-Shiny… I’m… I’m s-sorry…” tears start to trickle down those beautiful rosy cheeks. “I-I didn’t… m-mean to… I just… I just…”
I put a hoof over her mouth and try my best smile. “Shhh…” I hug her gently. “It’s ok… It’ll be ok…”
Cadence’s eyelids droop down to cover her violet eyes, and more droplets roll down her face, staining her makeup as they do.
I opt to stroke her mane softly, whispering sweet nothings in her ears. But deep, deep inside me, I can’t fully repress a stab of jealousy. I shouldn’t feel this way. I should grateful for all I have. I’ve had a wonderful life that most ponies could only dream of, a prosperous kingdom to call my own, a loving little sister, and wife of incomparable beauty and kindness.
So why am I feeling so down right now?
The damn voice chooses that exact moment to speak up again.
This isn’t…
Well, you know.