Shining Armor was waiting for Twilight when she finally made it back to her bedroom door, and his face lit up in a grin when he spotted her.
“There you are, Twily! I was just-” Shining stopped mid-sentence, his smile fading as he gave her a strange look. “Hey, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Twilight said flatly, but when she tried to step past him her brother blocked the way.
“Yeah? You don’t look it.”
“Well thank you very much…”
“Oh come on, Twilight, don’t be like that. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” she snapped back, more angrily than she’d meant to.
“Whoa, don’t bite my head off. I’m worried about you, that’s all.”
“You don’t need to be.” Twilight looked longingly past Shining Armor at the beckoning door behind him. This was not a conversation she needed right now.
“No? You vanish for hours, when you come back you look as though you haven’t slept for days, and I’m not supposed to worry about that?”
“No, you’re not. I said I was fine.”
“And I’m saying you’re obviously not.” Shining sighed. “Twilight, if there’s anything – and I mean anything – you want to talk about, you know I’m here, right?”
Not for this
“I know,” she said.
Shining was silent for a few more seconds before reluctantly stepping to one side. She didn’t look at him as she passed.
“Hey, what about our bet?” he called as she stepped into her room.
“Forget it,” Twilight answered, clicking the door shut.
***
With Shining Armor taken care of, more or less, Twilight was finally able to focus on the task at hoof. Resolving to tell her father was one thing, actually going through with it was quite another.
Hey Dad, you remember that time you cheated on Mom with a random stranger? Guess who!
What could possibly go wrong?
No, this was a situation that called for tact. Finesse. And maybe a touch of seduction, too. Definitely a touch of seduction, in fact. But even that might not be enough.
Or too much. Twilight groaned inwardly and buried her head in her pillow again. This was impossible. Totally and completely impossible, and Twilight had no choice but to do it or lose her mind completely. She couldn’t bear this any more.
And yet if telling him was easy, she’d have done it already. If getting Night Light to see her the same way needed nothing more than a conversation, they would have had it by now. The question remained: how could she possibly tell her father without ruining everything important to her? The answer was baby steps. Slowly, slowly.
But instead Twilight wanted to rush him nearly off his feet, stealing his breath with a kiss while he stole hers, falling to the floor because finding anything else would take too long. She wanted him to gaze at her with lust filling every facet of his expression, drawing her closer with peppered kisses, if it was even possible to be closer. She wanted him to tell her he loved her, and for the words to send a shiver down her spine because they both knew what he meant. She wanted him to touch her in ways that made her squeal and shudder against him, to make her grip him so tightly that they could hardly breathe, still not enough to stop her quivering. And she wanted him to want that too. Twilight didn’t have time to wait, to go slow. Her desire wouldn’t let her.
And now her imagination flew into overdrive, and her hoof slid down, down, as the fantasy Night Light moved his there too. A gasp escaped her as she played across herself, biting her lip too late to stop any errant sounds. She could almost feel his fur brushing against hers, whispering together as his body pressed down onto her, and the warmth it brought with it. It was such a vivid fantasy, fuelled as it was by delicious memories, and Twilight kept her face buried into her pillow so that reality had no chance to intrude. She wouldn’t let it take this from her.
Every part of her tingled, feeling his touch upon her almost as clearly as she had that night, that one impossible night which floated just out of her reach. But now he was right here with her and every part of her yearned for him and-
Twilight pulled her hoof away. This wasn’t helping. Getting hot and sticky and fired up was only going to make things so much harder to focus on. She needed a plan of action, a method of attack, a way to speak to him about this without getting lost in her father’s golden eyes, in the memories of that evening, the way he bit down lightly on her ear as he-
Twilight regarded her already-damp hoof for a moment, before concluding the plan-making would have to wait and slipping it between her legs once more.
***
“So, who’s the lucky stallion?”
Twilight jerked bolt upright, almost spitting her drink all over the pink alicorn sitting across from her. In return Cadance flashed a smile, the tiniest hint of smugness hidden in its otherwise warm exterior.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Twilight replied, shifting uneasily in her chair. With a clink, Twilight set her glass down on the enormous dining room table, and not for the first time she mulled over how ridiculous they must look bunched up at one end when it could easily seat forty others. She was beginning to regret Cadance’s offer of drinks now that she knew what the princess was up to.
“Of course you don’t.” Cadance didn’t seem at all perturbed by Twilight’s reply. “But even if your reaction didn’t tell me everything, you’re sticking hard to the script, don’t you think? That’s a textbook reply even for you.”
Twilight sighed and slumped in defeat. Her new sister-in-law was far too astute for her own good, and catching Twilight entirely by surprise like that hadn’t made it difficult to confirm her suspicions. “How did you know?”
“I’m the Princess of Love, Twilight. It’d be awkward if I didn’t see it.” The smugness had fully dropped out of Cadance’s smile now, at least. “But if you must know, you’re very good at hiding it, though I’m not sure why you feel the need to.”
Twilight shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant as she could, and took another sip. Whatever Cadance had made them was strong – it burned as it went down, not unpleasantly so.
“Ah, one of those. The ones you can’t tell other ponies about. To be honest, I’ve always found them the most fun.” Cadance’s grin dropped. “Wait, they’re not a mare, are they? I hope I didn’t just stick my hoof in it with the ‘stallion’ thing…”
“They’re not a mare, Cadance.”
Cadance sighed in relief. “Good.” And then her eyes widened as she realised what she’d said. “About not putting my hoof in it, I mean. Because of course if they were a mare, that would be absolutely fine too, though I’d understand why you’re not-”
“They’re not a mare, Cadance,” Twilight repeated, giggling at the princess’ flustered reaction despite herself. “They’re just… inappropriate.”
Understatement of the century, Twilight.
“Oh, that’s not fair, you’re making this way too interesting!” Cadance laughed behind her drink. “But I suppose I can sympathise.”
“Huh?”
“Come on, Twilight, you’re not that naïve. I’m a Princess, and Shining Armor was a guard when we started dating. My guard, in fact. When he became captain I guess our relationship became a bit more respectable, but back when he was my personal escort? Well, I don’t think Aunt Tia would have approved. There’s a reason you didn’t find out about us right up until the wedding – when we announced it we were practically eloping.”
“Really? Celestia didn’t seem upset about it at all.”
“Well, we didn’t give her much of a chance. She found out we were getting married at almost the same time you did.” Cadance paused. “And on the day there were plenty of other things to worry about…”
Twilight winced. A changeling invasion was sure to put a damper on anyone’s wedding celebrations, and all things considered Cadance had handled it exceptionally well.
The princess caught her expression. “Hey, don’t worry yourself. Looking back, it makes one heck of a story.” She leaned in a little closer. “And between you and me, Shining adores playing the hero. He couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity to show off.”
Twilight was entirely unsurprised. “That’s Shining Armor for you.”
“Mm, but let’s get back to your mystery stallion. That’s much more exciting.”
“Ugh, do we have to?”
“Please, Twilight. The Crystal Empire has nothing in the gossip department – this is the best thing I’ve uncovered in months.”
“My life isn’t a stage drama,” Twilight huffed.
“I’m not saying it is! I just want to help.” Cadance adopted a knowing look. “If the Princess of Love can’t give you advice, who can?”
“You’re just using that as an excuse.”
“Maybe a little,” Cadance admitted. “But speaking as a bit of an authority on the subject, if a stallion’s driving you as crazy as this one seems to be, then there’s only one course of action.”
Twilight wasn’t sure she liked where this was going. “Which is?”
Cadance broke into a wide, knowing grin. “Go for it,” she replied.
Twilight’s stomach felt like it did a little flip at Cadance’s answer. She couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or fear. Or both.
If only it were that easy.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Cadance said, pouting. “You don’t even have to tell anyone else. Just him.”
“I definitely can’t tell anypony else.”
“Damn it, Twilight, stop making this so intriguing. I can’t even think of anybody you know who could be so-” Cadance froze for a second, and then her eyes lit up. “Is it Spike?”
“What?! Ew, no! Spike’s a dragon.”
“Hey, no judgements from me. Official Princess of Love and stuff here. Whatever stallion, mare, or dragon takes your fancy.”
“I told you they’re not a mare. And it’s not Spike!”
“Okay, okay!” Cadance took a long drink, finishing her glass. “As always with this kind of thing it’s entirely up to you, but if you’re letting silly things like other ponies’ expectations stop you… Well, Shiny and I wouldn’t be happily married if I’d done the same. Food for thought.”
And although Cadance clearly had no idea of the taboo involved in Twilight’s desires, her words gave the unicorn a small but insistent confidence. Ponies would tell her it was wrong to feel this way about Night Light, that it was immoral and depraved. But they could say that all they wanted, and Twilight didn’t care anymore. This wasn’t about anyone else, just him.
Just him.
***
For the first time in a long while, the night arrived all too quickly. Twilight knew it was the best opportunity to catch her father alone and, as the shadows lengthened along her bedroom wall, a weight settled itself in her chest, growing heavier and heavier by the minute.
This is a bad idea.
Always insistent, Celestia’s voice made one final plea for sanity.
Once you do this you can never take it back.
But it was already too late to take anything back, and this was Twilight’s final recourse. She’d already tried forgetting. It didn’t work.
And so it could only ever have come to this, Twilight sneaking out into the moonlit hallway with trepidation filling each and every step. Part of her already knew where her father would be: the candlelit room she'd found him in on that first, sleepless night. That same part of her knew he would have chosen there so she could find him again.
But when she saw that orange glow burning into the hall's carpet through a slightly ajar door, Twilight stopped dead. The weight in her chest had become a vice, tightening, crushing. Everything screamed at her to run away, simultaneously wanting nothing more than to keep going. Twilight was frozen on the very precipice, torn between two impossibilities.
Walk away, Twilight. It's still not too late.
Oh, but it was, and even Celestia's voice knew it. It became too late the moment her father had put on the blindfold, the moment Twilight's hoofcuffs had closed around her. She was five steps from the door now, and everything that lay behind it. Slowly, so slowly, she lifted a hoof.
Four.
It's empty here.
Three.
We all fall down sometimes.
Two.
Please don't stop...
One.
T-Twilight...
And she pushed open the door. The hoofcuffs clicked shut.
The room hadn't changed. There was no reason why it should have, of course, but that still didn't stop Twilight from noticing it. Maybe it was because she had changed, because everything was different now compared to that first, ignorant night here.
The candles still burned, silhouetting one side of Night Light's face. The ornate fireplace which dominated the far wall was just as imposing, flanked by two armchairs. Last time she and her father had forgone them in favour of cushions, but now Night Light sat reclined in one of the pair, leafing idly through the same book. His smile when he saw her made the vice squeeze even tighter.
“Hey, kiddo.”
Just those two words made her heart rate quicken, made her breaths come short and fast. She was glad he couldn’t see it, that the smile remained on his face.
“Hey,” she murmured.
“You want a seat?” He motioned to the chair opposite him, and Twilight nodded before taking it. The soft thump as Night Light set his book down almost made her jump out of it again. “Can’t sleep?”
“Not really.”
He laughed, but there was no humour in it. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”
A pause. Twilight wished she had something to fill it with other than her confession, wracking her brain for anything to delay the inevitable, to give herself just a little bit longer to prepare herself. She found nothing. Her lips were so dry, and running her tongue over them didn’t seem to help. After a deep breath, summoning up every last bit of courage she had, she managed to croak out words again. “I have to tell you something.”
“Well,” he said, “this sounds serious.”
It was a half-joke, she knew, but it couldn’t stop Twilight’s hooves from shaking. Her father’s cheery smile faded when he saw that. Quickly he reached out and took her hooves in his own. His touch burned. “Hey, Twilight, it’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” She hadn’t even told him and already her voice was cracking, already tears were threatening to spill out from traitorous eyes.
Night Light said nothing, waiting for her to be ready. Not rushing her, or even demanding an answer. If she took everything back now he wouldn’t make her tell him what was wrong, she knew that. He’d never make her do anything like that. This was her last chance to back out, to make things right and get rid of this forever.
But his touch was so warm.
“I…”
Last chance.
Twilight swallowed. “I know about the place in Ponyville,” she said.
A flash of something in her father’s eyes. “The… place?”
Her breath trembled. “The one with the blindfolds.”
Silence.
…
Twilight saw the exact moment the glimmer of fear from before became fully fledged in his eyes as it was realised. “Oh shit,” he whispered. “Shit, shit, shit.”
His hooves didn’t let her go, though. If anything his grip on her only tightened. The tears that threatened before finally broke free from Twilight’s eyes, and her father looked ready to do the same.
“Twilight,” he said, in a terrible, broken voice. “Look, I… I can explain. There’s a lot going on here you don’t know about, but I can explain. I can… Oh shit, Twilight.”
He wrapped his hooves around her and pulled her close. Twilight couldn’t bring herself to move, holding herself rigidly as he hugged her.
This was a mistake. This was wrong.
“I’m sorry, Twilight,” came Night Light’s muffled voice from her shoulder. When he pulled back he gripped her hooves tightly again. “I don’t know how you found out, but… Shit, I guess it doesn’t matter. But you have to know that I… It’s…”
He took a deep breath, and then tried to wipe away some of the tears coursing down Twilight’s cheeks, as if that would stop the ones that followed, as if that would stop his own. “I have to tell you the truth, Twilight, I know that, but there’s a lot to this and I don’t know how best to say it. Just… The mare in there wasn’t a… wasn’t a lover. They were… Shit, I don’t even know. Maybe I should just start again, but I don’t want you getting the wrong idea. This wasn’t about love.” Night Light paused. A white hot knife had buried itself in Twilight’s heart, twisting and turning with every word he spoke. Those last ones hurt the most. There was nothing left in her now, just a dark emptiness, and the words that escaped her even before she’d truly registered their significance were so quiet that it was no wonder her father couldn’t hear them.
“I can tell you it was a mistake," he carried on, unknowing. "It was wrong, and I regret every second of it. And I hope that mare found something better as well. Someone more real than that place.”
Twilight couldn't take it anymore, and the rising flood of everything she'd been holding back finally breaking free as she half-shouted, half-screamed the words he'd missed the first time. "It was me!"
And the world stopped.
For a moment there was nothing but Twilight's pounding heartbeat.
Thump.
Thump.
It was a second frozen in time, neither of them even able to breathe, to do anything but stare at the other, Twilight's gaze anxious and tearful, her father's unreadable. And then Night Light's hooves let go, dropping away as he sank backwards into his chair.
“It was…?” he started to repeat, the words trailing off into nothingness before his question could be fully-formed.
Another thick stillness filled the room, Twilight too scared to say anything before she'd seen his reaction, Night Light looking straight through her as he tried to process this revelation. And then, after an eternity, her father shook his head. “No,” he said, as if making it a statement would make it true as well. “No, Twilight, it can't... You can't... Please tell me this is some sick joke. Please.”
Twilight said nothing. She didn't need to; her silence spoke volumes.
“Please, Twilight,” Night Light said again, though now even he didn't seem sure of what he was asking. For this not to be happening, most likely, but it was far too late for that. “Oh, fuck.” His head fell into his hooves.
But still Twilight said nothing. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. This wasn't what she'd wanted.
But whatever did you expect, my little pony? Celestia asked.
Twilight didn't know. Not this. She had no plans for this.
Her father spoke again, and his words trembled. “What... What do you want me to say?”
“Something,” Twilight answered, forcing words out before they could die on her lips, like all the others that went unsaid. “Anything.”
Night Light looked directly into her eyes, and all of the brightness behind his own had gone out of them. “I'm sorry,” he breathed. “I'm so, so sorry.” His voice cracked on the last word.
It was Twilight's turn to pull him in close, Twilight's turn to hold him against her. And then, as he trembled in her hooves, Twilight whispered two words into his ear. Two words that meant everything. The only two words that were right.
“Don't be.”
Night Light froze. “What?”
“I said don’t be.” Twilight smiled through shining eyes. “I’m not.”
“You’re…? Twilight, do you even know what you’re saying?” Night Light pulled away, his voice full of incredulity.
Twilight took another shaky breath, but now it held a tinge of excitement. She knew how to fix this. “I mean, at first I didn’t even know it was you, what with the blindfold. And it was incredible. No one had ever treated me as well there as you did.”
“This isn’t-”
“And then you spoke,” she interrupted, “and I knew it was you. Straight away I knew, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I was gagged and hoofcuffed. How could I have gotten your attention?”
Her father snapped upright, suddenly realising the question wasn’t rhetorical, though he still wore the expression of a pony miles out of his depth. “I… I don’t know.”
“Exactly. I did try to speak through it, but you were so…” She shivered at the memory, before shifting a little closer to him. “I couldn’t do anything but moan, and that only made you go faster.”
Night Light swallowed as Twilight moved even closer. She was barely sitting on her chair anymore.
“And then, after everything, you took off the gag. Do you remember that?”
“Of course I do,” he breathed.
“I could have told you then. But I couldn’t really, could I? What would I have even said?”
“You could have said something!”
Twilight laughed softly, but really it was just a way to cover her movements as she sidled ever closer. Now she wasn’t even touching her seat, but Night Light didn’t seem to have noticed, fixated entirely on her face. “No, I couldn’t, and you know it. What in Equestria would you have done if I’d so much as said your name? I couldn’t speak, but that’s okay because I didn’t want to. I…” Twilight hesitated. Even after all that, this last part was hard. She made it easier by resting her hooves on his shoulders, almost sitting in his lap by this point. Just being this close reassured her, gave her confidence. And this time Twilight knew it was her touch that burned – she could feel the rising heat flush in her cheeks as she relived that night, and thought she could almost see the same in her father’s too.
“I didn’t want you to stop,” she finished in a whisper, so quiet she had to murmur it into his ear.
“Twilight…” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a statement. It was somewhere in between, the last stand of his crumbling resistance, bewilderment giving way to a much more base emotion. She could feel warmth through his fur now, and her body was practically pressed against his.
“I tried to forget,” she began again, continuing her soft murmurs as she trailed her hoof lightly over his shoulder. “But I couldn’t. And then this holiday happened and I didn’t want to come at first because I didn’t think I could handle it. I was kind of right.”
Her father’s breathing was growing heavier, but his eyes were still as wide as saucers.
“Especially when I found you in the bathroom.”
“That was you!?” Night Light shifted beneath her again, but it wasn’t clear if he was actually trying to push her away. His movements were too half-hearted to be sincere.
She nodded. “I didn’t mean to. But then I caught you and you were just out of the shower and I knew you wouldn’t know…”
“I-”
“But now I want you to know. I don’t want to hide this anymore. I can’t.” The hoof that had been playing over his shoulders moved lower, sliding over his back. “I want you.” Twilight was almost wrapped around him, her face centimetres from his. She could feel his breath against her neck, and the gap between their lips slowly and inexorably closed. Closer, closer, so close. She pushed herself against him, and something pressed into her rump. Something hot, and stiff.
Triumph flooded her, but then her view rapidly shifted and Twilight hit the floor, landing hard on her back. It hurt.
“Oh Celestia,” came Night Light’s voice from above her. “I didn’t mean to- Are you okay?”
Twilight looked up at her father, still more confused than anything. One moment she’d been about to kiss him, about to make everything right, and then…
“I’m sorry I pushed you so hard, but… Shit, Twilight. I don’t know what that was, but it can’t happen.”
No. She’d been so close, he’d been right there, wanting her in that wonderful, fiery moment, so why was he doing this?
“You’re my daughter, Twilight.” Night Light was shaking. She could see it, but had no idea how to stop it. “I can’t… We can’t do this.” He took a long breath. Twilight still hadn’t moved, and she could see him torn between helping her to her hooves or fleeing the room. “I know we need to talk about this, but not now. I need time to sort all this out in my head, okay? And I think you need that too.”
But she didn’t. Twilight had had all the time in the world to think this through, and now her father was shattering the one hope she’d let herself keep.
“Don’t go,” she begged.
Night Light didn’t reply as he stumbled out of the room, leaving Twilight so very alone. The floor was cold against her back as she listened to his hoofsteps recede to nothing, dwindling to silence in the manor’s empty halls.