Twilight opened the double doors of Celestia’s private chambers and stepped out into the hallway. She turned back to look at Celestia and opened her mouth, but hesitated. Her eyes drifted unfocused, and her tail sagged. With a sudden jolt, she straightened herself upright and pushed a small smile onto her lips. For Celestia’s sake, no doubt. Then Twilight turned down the hallway, and she was gone.
From her place at the tea table, Celestia nudged the chamber doors with her magic until they closed with a soft click. In the still of the room, she brought a hoof to the bridge of her muzzle and released her breath.
It could have gone worse.
She had watched Twilight blossom from the starry-eyed filly, to the idolizing student, to the enamored princess. Celestia had known this talk was inevitable, that Twilight’s feelings toward her would one day evolve past some childish crush. She had braced herself for how much this talk would hurt Twilight… and for how much it would hurt herself to watch the light die in Twilight’s eyes.
And yet Twilight had handled herself well. She had argued why their circumstances were different, both being immortal alicorns. She had alluded to recent examples of her growing maturity. She had even listed a few instances meant to represent her deeper understanding of Celestia as a pony—their deeper connection. It was well-thought, persuasive even, and clearly a matter of the heart.
And she had been brave to leave with a smile, when Celestia told her it was not meant to be.
Celestia looked down at the two teacups: hers half-full, Twilight’s untouched. She rather enjoyed the complex flavor of this yugure blossom tea, light yet surprisingly bold. On any other day, its gentle flowery fragrance would soothe her soul and dissolve her stress.
Celestia held the teacups over the edge of the table, rolling them gently in her magic. With a shake of her head, she dumped both teacups into the nearby potted fern. Today, it just didn’t seem right to enjoy it.
She rose up to her hooves and walked out toward the balcony, allowing the sweltering summer sun to beat down on her and bake her beneath her coat. She gave a wry chuckle, half-hearted though it was, that even the Princess of the Sun couldn’t beat the heat. At least there was a welcome relief in the form of breeze sweeping between the castle towers. She stretched out her neck, feeling the wind flowing across her face and billowing her mane. She would have to remember to thank the pegasi for this thoughtful gesture.
No. Something was wrong. Celestia’s eyes fluttered open beneath a creased brow. She knew the magic of all her little ponies, and this breeze did not carry the airy and free magic of pegasi. With such intricacy and complexity, even most unicorns would be taxed beyond their limit. Celestia couldn’t say for certain what this spell’s purpose was; that required time she didn’t have. But one thing was for certain: she was about to have company.
Celestia spun herself around, facing the pulsing orb of black-violet aetheric energy that was growing in the center of her chamber. Lightning arced across the room, casting the room in a musky concoction of ozone and expended magic. The winds of the room spun tighter and faster, as though pulling the breath from Celestia’s own breast. Not even the other princesses would be so reckless and brash as to teleport directly into her chambers. Celestia widened her stance and ducked low, drawing energy to her own horn. Even with her guards dismissed from her earlier meeting with Twilight, the immortal princess of the kingdom of Equestria was more than capable of handling this herself, thank you kindly. Her unannounced visitor had chosen the wrong day for this stunt.
A shockwave blasted through the room, crashing against Celestia with the force of an ocean wave against a stony shore. Even braced for the spell, Celestia couldn’t help but replant her back leg. With a calming breath, she parted ways through the starburst of aether, allowing it to flow around her form and escape back into the world outside. She felt blinded, not by a mere flash of light, but by the overwhelming aspect of the spell’s aura, like champagne fizzing against her mind. A moment of calm was enough to restore her five standard senses.
She opened her eyes to behold, where magic had gathered just a moment before, an alicorn. A head or two taller than Celestia, the mare stretching her muzzle upward and spread her lavender wings behind her. Her ephemeral mane danced and wavered down her back, a rich midnight blue with galaxies of pink spinning in the void. The furthest tip of her mane tickled against her cutie mark: a pink starburst surrounded by five smaller white stars.
Celestia stared up at the alicorn. For the first time in ages, she found herself at a loss of words. “You…”
“Me!” roared the older Twilight Sparkle, venom dripping from her voice. “Are you surprised to see me, dear teacher? So soon after you tore my heart to pieces, and cast those pieces unto the winds?”
Celestia took in a lungful of air through her nostrils, and straightened herself to a proper regal stature. “Twilight. I am truly sorry for the pain that my selfishness caused you.” Though her voice stayed even and measured through sheer willpower, the light from her horn only grew in intensity. “If there is anything that can ease your suffering, I will do all that is within my power. Please, let us just discuss—”
“The time for talk is over, Princess.” She leered down at Celestia, muzzle pointed skyward as she advanced with deliberate steps. “You know nothing of the pain of an immortal suitor scorned: forever at your side, yet for all purposes, cast to the furthest reaches of space. Yet after five thousand years of suffering, I, Twilight Sparkle, have claimed my rightful place as Dark Empress of the Eternal Star.”
Celestia’s mind raced as images of the past flashed before her. Not again. Not Twilight. There had to be something she could say to quell her rage. To make this right. To ease her aching heart.
The older Twilight sneered beneath a darkened brow. “And now, sweet Princess, I have traveled back in time to this fateful day, so that I might exact my revenge, and… and… pfft! Oh my gosh, your face right now!”
What?
“Ahaha, oh jeez!” She doubled over with a high-pitched giggle and clutched her underside. Her long muzzle brushing the ground beneath her, while her ethereal mane pooled on the ground beside her hooves. “Y-you should’ve seen your face! Oh man, I really had you going there.”
Celestia skewed her head back slightly, narrowing her gaze at the laughing alicorn before her. She took a few cautious steps backwards, edging toward the balcony.
“Nooo,” the older Twilight cooed between fits of giggles. “No, c’mon, don’t be like that. Prank. Just a prank.”
That seemed hardly likely. If this alicorn were who she appeared to be, the use of powerful time magicks for a simple prank would be needlessly excessive. The possibility of deception remained. Celestia narrowed her eyes, unmoving from her spot nearest the exit.
The older Twilight rolled her eyes at Celestia and grinned. “C’mon, if I was really gonna turn evil, do you really think I’d go all ‘Dark Empress of the Eternal Star’? Sounds like something out of a trashy romance novel.”
“Forgive me,” Celestia said, each word elongated and chosen with care, “Twilight. It’s just that your behavior was not what I expected.”
“You were scared.” She snickered as she drew closer, bounding with the airiness of a pony on the moon. “C’mon, admit it. Big ol’ Princess of Equestria was scared of Empress Whatchamacallit chewin’ the scenery.” Before Celestia could offer a rebuttal, the older Twilight lunged in and planted a quick peck on her cheek. “Sorry for spooking ya, Sugar-Butt.”
Sugar—
That doesn’t—
What?
Celestia staggered back, aghast, as she drew herself up to full height. “Excuse me?” she balked, clutching a hoof over the graced cheek. “That… that was not appropriate.” She licked her lips and donned the most scathing look that she could muster—an uncomfortable fit at best. “I should ask that you not refer to me in that manner.”
The older Twilight covered her mouth with both hooves, desperately trying to rein in her giggling. “Stop, oh my gosh! I can’t believe how straight-laced you were, back then. Back now. Time shenanigans. Oh man, I can’t breathe!” She let out something halfway between a laugh and a sigh, and tapped Celestia on the shoulder. “I know you were my teacher and all, but I didn’t remember falling for a full-on schoolmarm.”
“What I meant,” Celestia said, taking a terse step back, “was that I have known Twilight Sparkle—the Twilight of this era—for her entire life.” She flicked her hoof forward, as though pulling the words from her mouth with string. “These… The overly familiar nickname, your speech mannerisms, and even the bold advances…”
“Right,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes. “Like, Little Me would never try to kiss you. Sounds pretty gay.”
Celestia huffed. “You know perfectly well what I am referring to.”
“Yeah.” The older Twilight wiggled her head this way and that, swishing her tail behind her in rhythm. “I suppose we gotta go through all the usual time-traveling nonsense. Like that you’re probably still thinking I could be some evil imposter.”
Celestia furrowed her brow. She could hardly be blamed for such doubts when the pony in front of her had arrived under the guise of aggression.
“And don’t blame the prank.” She wiggled her hoof at Celestia. “It’s not my fault that you fell for that like an earth pony at flight camp. Besides, if I was gonna do something totes evil, wouldn’t I have done that already?” Nodding her head towards the doors, she added, “I mean, your guards are gone. Wouldn’t now be my big chance?”
Celestia jerked her head back, ears at alert. The door was closed, and she hadn’t mentioned anything about the guards. How could—
“Which I obviously know because you dismissed them before you had your chat with Little Me today.” She flashed her teeth. “Who, I remind you, was me.”
Positively impossible. Celestia sat back on her haunches, tucking her forelegs in tightly against her frontside. The older Twilight was clearly intent on playing mind games and being a nuisance all-around. Celestia opened her mouth to object.
“You’re not calling me ‘the older Twilight’ in your head, are you?”
Celestia’s jaw snapped shut with a click of her teeth.
“That’d be totally rude, ya know.” She flicked a hoof playfully through her mane, sending galaxies spinning across its midnight expanse. “I wouldn’t think I look a day over three thousand.”
“No, certainly not.” The answer came on instinct, a habit ingrained from years of placating vain visiting dignitaries. It took Celestia a few moments to process that, in fact, the Twilight Sparkle in front of her was likely a couple of millennia older than herself. She shifted her weight, trying to roll a shoulder muscle that had suddenly tensed up on her. “I suppose that I ought to simply call you by your name, Twilight.”
She gave a noncommittal shrug. “I mean, that works for me, but then that’ll get confusing if you meant me or Little Me. Y’know, time-traveling shenanigans.” Her grin turned coy and mischievous once more, and Celestia’s unease returned with it. “Luckily for you, Sugar-Butt, we have pet names for each other. You could use that. Y’know, for disambiguation.”
Sugar-Butt wasn’t a one-off gag. They had pet names for one another, allegedly. Sugar-Butt was Twilight’s pet name for her? Hot summer air rolled in through the balcony door, heavy and stifling. “Pet names?” she echoed, her mind spinning. “Please don’t tell me yours is anywhere as crass as—”
“You can call me Glitter-Flanks, if you like,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes.
Celestia gaped as her wings rocketed out to either side. “No! No, that is... entirely inappropriate, and unbecoming.” She tried to draw in a breath but the humid air pressed in against her chest, pulling out a cold sweat beneath her coat.
“Aww, but it really grew on me,” said Glitter-Flanks, pouting. She reached over and gently massaged Celestia’s shoulders. “You really need to loosen up, Sugar-Butt. You’re so tense.”
A bolt of lightning shot through Celestia’s form at the touch, igniting a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. A roll of her shoulder and a brush of her wing tried to reclaim some of her personal space, to no avail. “Could you please stop addressing me in that manner, Twilight?”
“Why?” Glitter-Flanks rested her chin on Celestia’s shoulder, causing every muscle of Celestia’s form to lock rigidly in place. Celestia felt her heartbeat throbbing in her ears as Glitter-Flanks smirked up at her. “Embarrassed that you’re blushing so much?”
“I am not blushing!” Accentuating each word, Celestia recoiled back from Glitter-Flanks. The return of her personal space, however, did nothing to relieve the sweltering heat of the room.
A brief silence overtook the chambers. “Oh,” said Glitter-Flanks through a wince, pulling back a step. “Oh, sweetie, this… wow. I did not remember it being so, so… Okay, first off.” Looking over at the far wall, Glitter-Flanks unhooked the ornamental mirror off its prominent place on the wall, and floated it in front of herself.
Celestia’s eyes widened, and she quickly brought a hoof to her face. She must have gotten a terrible sunburn when she stepped outside a few moments ago. Or perhaps she was coming down with a fever. There was simply no way that the flustered young filly in the mirror could be her.
“Yeah,” said Glitter-Flanks, poking her head around the mirror, pity written on her brow. “First off, I know how to push your buttons. I have, like, thousands of years of experience of pushing your buttons. Basically my special talent is pushing your buttons, is what I’m saying here. Second of all, wow, I’m starting to realize how completely unfair this is. It’s like you’re bringing a desk fan to Tornado Duty.” With a solemn expression, she crossed her chest with a hoof before gently resting it against a closed eye. “I promise, I won’t abuse my powers. Much. Once I get tired of how adorable you’re being right now.”
Celestia inhaled deeply before letting out a weary sigh. “Twilight.”
“Which, disclaimer, might take a millennium or so.”
“Glitter-Flanks” might have claimed thousands of years experience in “button pressing”, but Celestia had equal measure in a far more practical pursuit: well-versed diplomacy. The lewd, immature jokes had thrown her off her game, true, but she had salvaged negotiations before, when all hope had seemed lost. This Glitter-Flanks, no matter what her behavior, would not prove herself a challenge. “I believe,” she said, taking in another calming breath, “that you were about to impart the reason for your journey into the past.”
“Ah, yes!” Glitter-Flanks pressed her hooves together with a single resounding clap. “Four thousand, seven hundred and twenty three years, eleven months and one day, to be more precise. But you’ll forgive the Dark Empress for rounding up, earlier. Monologues need to roll off the tongue, y’know. Anyway, yes, I have traveled back in time across the millennia for an important, two-part mission.” She sat back on her haunches and pointed both forehooves skyward, for emphasis. “The fate of the world hangs in the balance, and your role is pivotal in both steps.”
And with that simple reminder, her attention was refocused. Celestia allowed herself a small smile. She nodded, feeling the stinging sensation gradually fade from her cheeks. In some ways, it felt unquestionable to Celestia that this was still Twilight in front of her, requiring nothing more than a guiding hoof. Discussions with Twilight about saving the world had a peculiar familiarity to them, after all. “Very well, then. Let us turn to these urgent matters.”
Glitter-Flanks matched her solemn nod, pressing her hooves together in a stoic pose. “Thank you. Now, the first part of my mission can be addressed immediately, so let’s begin there.” Wordlessly, she leaned to one side and stared, as though peering behind Celestia.
“Hmm? What is it?” She turned her head back as well, following Glitter-Flanks’s gaze. There wasn’t anything remarkable behind herself, except… With a start, her eyes widened, then narrowed just as quickly. Turning back to Glitter-Flanks with a glare, Celestia curled her voluminous tail around herself, covering up her flanks.
“Mmm. Mmm.” Glitter-Flanks nodded solemnly once more, closing her eyes. Her telekinesis grasped at the air in front of her, as though holding an imaginary quill and parchment. “Dear Princess Celestia, today I learned that da booty is so, so fine. Your Faithful Student, Twilight ‘Glitter-Flanks’ Sparkle.”
Celestia scoffed, curling her lip. “Unbelievable…”
“Right?!” Glitter-Flanks threw her hooves skyward. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you still look amazing in the future. Totally sexy. But I mean, we both know you have a bit of a sweet tooth, and well, let’s just say that ‘Sugar-Butt’ is a bit of playful ribbing.” She held one hoof forward in protest while turning her head away. “Now, that is not to discredit your recent diet back in my time, which you have been super-diligent about. Alls I’m tryin’ to say is that it’s hard to beat original perfection, y’know?”
“Dare I ask how… how checking me out was supposed to affect the fate of the world?”
“Because,” Glitter-Flanks said, wiggling her eyebrows, “now that I’m here, your world is about to be rocked.”
Letting out a pained exhale, Princess Celestia turned toward her bookshelf. The time travel spell had dislodged several of her books and scrolls. She levitated them back to their intended homes, rather than engage; they could resume once Glitter-Flanks was ready to be serious.
“Sugar-Butt.”
This single—albeit powerful—spell had cast the room into a surprising degree of disarray. It really brought to light that, as a spellcasting alicorn herself, Celestia really ought to keep her belongings better secured. Perhaps some paperweights at a minimum, a few binders for organization. Twilight had gotten organization down to a science; perhaps Celestia could ask—
“Sugar-Butt.” Glitter-Flanks repositioned herself in the room, moving back into Celestia’s field of view.
Celestia met her with a weary gaze. “Yes, Twilight?”
Glitter-Flanks wiggled her eyebrows again.
Celestia shook her head. “The second reason you are here? Am I to assume that this one is equally… off-color?”
Glitter-Flanks hummed and shrugged. “I suppose you could say that the first part was, well, a bit more self-indulgent. However, however! The second part of my mission is crucially vital, with ramifications that will be felt for generations.”
“I can’t help but notice that you didn’t answer my question,” Celestia said, arching her eyebrow. “And I also can’t help but suspect that your last sentence contained a line of innuendo.”
“Not bad, not bad!” Glitter-Flanks nodded slowly, pursing her lips into a faux-judgmental expression. “I mean, I wasn’t trying for any innuendo, this time, but I totally coulda done something there. But most importantly, you’re showing potential. There just might be hope for you yet.” Making her way over to the tea table, Glitter-Flanks made herself comfortable on a seat cushion—the same cushion Twilight had sat upon moments before. She motioned to the seat cushion opposite her.
As aggravating and overly familiar as she was, Celestia couldn’t help but see Twilight seated before her. It was not so much certainty as it was desire; if only they could push through this silliness, there remained some small chance of getting to know this Twilight, a different side of her altogether. The thought brought a warmth to Celestia’s breast, in spite of herself. And besides, in the worst case, should this turn out to be a prank all along, she could expose the blasted ruse and put this matter to rest. Celestia considered the invitation in silence, then acquiesced.
Opposite her, Glitter-Flanks closed one eye and stuck out her tongue—the exaggerated face of a filly casting her first spell. A small beam of magic hit the soil of the nearby plant, like a stone thrown into a lake, and the discarded tea splashed up out of the dirt and back into their teacups.
Celestia wrinkled her nose. “That was in the dirt, Twilight.”
“Before I reversed time. Now, that never happened.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply from her teacup, allowing the steam to billow beneath her chin.
Celestia joined her with a cautious sniff and a careful examination of the tea. There were no visible impurities to the tea, and as the steam rose to her own nostrils, she caught the recognizable aroma. It smelled familiar, unspoiled by its retrieval from the flowerpot, and yet somehow it seemed different to Celestia, as though the fragrance was brighter, more present.
“Such a terrible waste of yugure blossom tea, otherwise. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Celestia’s eyes shot up from the teacup to Glitter-Flanks’s gentle smirk. A simple trick, knowing this, and yet the possibility was there. Was the mare in front of her truly the same little pony who filled Celestia’s heart with pride? A burning in Celestia’s chest reminded her to inhale. “It was not one of my fonder memories, no.”
“Which brings us to the second, more-important-if-less-bootylicious reason I am here.” Glitter-Flanks planted her elbows on the table. “Using the most powerful magicks known to ponykind, I, Princess Twilight Sparkle, have traveled thousands of years into the past to ensure that you and me totally hook up.” She blinked and frowned. “I mean, you and Little Me. Course, if you’re in the mood for Round Two…”
“Mmm.” Well, so much for that. Princess Celestia felt a small pang of disappointment at the obvious approach, but it couldn’t be helped. Checkmate in four, then. She swirled the tea around her cup, gave it one final glance, and took a sip. “I see.”
“Eh? Ehhh?!” Glitter-Flanks excitedly jabbed in Celestia’s direction. “I know that smirk.”
Celestia tilted her head. “Smirk? I don’t know what you mean.” She hadn’t let her poker face drop; she was certain.
“Ya-huh, I’m sure you don’t.” Glitter-Flank’s grin turned smoky, as she sat back and sipped her tea without breaking eye contact. “But you do have some thoughts on the matter, I assume?”
“Of course.” Celestia added another lump of sugar to her tea, methodically stirring it in, watching the block slowly dissolve into nothingness. Recycled or rewound as it was, she was more than pleased to find it retained its soothing flavor. “I must say, Twilight, that I am quite impressed with your mastery of time magics.” Checkmate in three.
Glitter-Flanks gave a smile and a small shrug—a familiar response from her star pupil. “You’re too kind. In reality, I simply had all the time in the world to study, but… Yes, I’m quite pleased with how much progress I’ve been able to add to Starswirl the Bearded’s original theories.”
Checkmate in two. “Yes, I remember how much you used to pore over Starswirl’s works,” said Celestia. “Including his Th—”
“Third Theorem of Thaumaturgical Time Travel, which clearly states that all trips into the past will result in a closed time loop?” Glitter-Flanks smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at Celestia. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off there.”
“Err… yes.” Celestia shifted her wings, finding a more comfortable position. Perhaps the approach had been too obvious, after all. The lewd jokes belied this much forethought, but on the other hoof, this was her Faithful Student, through and through. “You seem to be implying that you come from a future where you and I are in an established relationship. Yet, you’ve traveled back into this era, in order to act as a mediator.”
“And therefore,” Glitter-Flanks continued for her, “you are troubled by the implications. To wit, is my presence here implying that a matter of the heart can be subjected to the iron-clad constraints of destiny?” She nodded twice and sipped her tea. “Trust me, you’re no slave to destiny, Sugar-Butt. The heart can always choose as it wishes.”
“Oh?” Celestia arched her eyebrow. “That doesn’t seem to follow.”
“A closed time loop isn’t a mind-domination spell,” said Glitter-Flanks. “You can say no to Little Me at any point. Heck, you could’ve told Big Me to take a hike, yet I can’t help but notice that you haven’t…” She smiled at Celestia over her teacup, head gently tilted to one side. “I’m banking on the fact that your feelings for me are already there. I’m just here to help speed up the process, that’s all.”
“A convincing argument,” said Celestia, “but one which, under further scrutiny, ultimately misses under the point. If you are who you claim to be, and the future is as you say, then if I were to reject your advances, it would result in a paradox. That hardly sounds like a choice, when presented in that manner.”
Glitter-Flanks frowned, glancing down at her teacup. “I suppose it doesn’t. I just don’t figure you’ll want to say no, so it’s moot.”
Princess Celestia offered a smirk. “It sounds like you’re just brushing over the issue.”
The light came back to Glitter-Flanks’s eyes, and she glanced up. “As are you.”
“Mmm?”
Glitter-Flanks leaned her elbows on the table. “Time-traveling predestination shenanigans aside, do you like Twilight Sparkle?”
Honestly, was this the only point Glitter-Flanks was going to harp upon? As the air in the room grew humid once more, Celestia’s eyes flickered to the towering double-doors of her chambers. No, this topic had already been discussed already. “I believe that you and I just got through discussing—”
“Yut-jut-jut!” Glitter-Flanks gave a dismissive flick of her hoof. “Our discussion earlier today, as I recall it, was about the many reasons you believed we shouldn’t, which was all well and good, but totally not the question I asked.” She leaned over the table, smiling peacefully at Celestia. “Do you. Like. Twilight Sparkle?”
Celestia smiled back, though her eyes faltered and sank to the table. What a silly question. She took small comfort in the knowledge that Glitter-Flanks had apparently never outgrown her childlike innocence. “I’m sorry, Twilight. Truly, I am. But the circumstances of our lives set us both upon our own paths. I fear if our stars will ever have the opportunity to align, and it would be unfair of me to give you—the past you—a false hope to cling to.” She gave a slow shake of the head, waving her mane behind her. “Ultimately, my personal feelings on the matter are not what’s important.”
“Mmm. I see.” Though her tone mimicked Celestia’s from earlier, Glitter-Flanks made a poor effort of hiding a smirk behind her teacup. “Except we both know that’s a load of horse hockey. ‘Your bangs are dorky.’ ‘The whole brainiac shtick is a bit of a turn-off.’ ‘I’ve got this secret harem thing going, and it’s really working for me.’ You’ve got plenty of outs.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow?” Celestia tilted her head, mind spinning.
She shrugged. “The three traditional answers to ‘do you like Twilight Sparkle’ would be yes, no, and maybe. A ‘no’ would put the kibosh on this whole thing, since there’s no point in me bucking the wrong apple tree. Yet despite all your protesting, I’m not hearing a ‘no’ to my question, so by process of elimination… thank you.” Glitter-Flanks smiled, sweet and warm. “Twilight Sparkle likes you too.”
Celestia frowned and opened her mouth, so that she might refute the point and put an end to this silly tangent. No words came forth. She knitted her brow and pulled back. Why was she suddenly at a loss?
Glitter-Flanks chuckled, though after a few blinks, her own smile faltered. “Wait, hold up. You really didn’t realize that?” She sat back on her cushion, staring off to the side as she contemplated. “I always assumed that was just a facade. Huh.”
Celestia recovered first, shaking her head. “I… I suppose I should apologize, then. Perhaps you did deserve a proper answer to your question—both now, and an hour ago.” She looked to the side, slowly wetting her lips with her tongue. She felt her stomach twist and lurch from the vertigo of uncertainty. “But, for thousands of years, I have been the Princess of the Sun. For most of your life, you’ve been my Faithful Student.”
“I’d like to think that I’ve become more than that,” said Glitter-Flanks, “even in this era.”
“Certainly.” Celestia nodded. “My point—”
“Unless you’re into that sorta thing.”
Princess Celestia fixed her with a pointed glare, attempting and failing to quell her snickering. “My point was that it can be a difficult to reevaluate a relationship when the circumstances change. It is no secret that I have my fair share of mistakes and regrets. And thus do I… do I concede the possibility that I have unfairly held Twilight back, in spite of her amazing strides in becoming the princess I hoped she would become.” She took a few shallow breaths—as much as her chest would allow—before continuing. “However, if the purpose of your visit is to demonstrate five thousand years of maturity by making perverse jokes, I fear that your plan is misguided.”
“Nah, it’s not like that,” said Glitter-Flanks with a shake of her head. “I have my mission, remember? Gotta set you and Little Me up for all of the snuggles.”
“Which brings us back to the other issue that we had tabled: giving you the benefit of the doubt that you are who you claim to be.” Changing the topic could be considered underhoofed by some, but it was merely a staple of diplomacy. She needed a chance to regain her balance. “You resemble my Faithful Student in appearance, yet I find it difficult to believe that the Twilight Sparkle I know would act so crass.”
“Whoa! Harsh!” Glitter-Flanks clutched at her chest with both forehooves. “Sugar-Butt, I thought we had moved past our trust issues.”
“Call it an air of caution.” An air which was only strengthened by a defensive attitude. A smirk played at Celestia’s lips. Perhaps now was the time to go on the offensive. “If you remember your history, Canterlot was infiltrated by changelings just a few years ago.”
“Ahh,” said Glitter-Flanks, stifling a chuckle. “Changelings. Yeah, changelings.” When she caught sight of Celestia’s questioning glance, she shrugged. “Sorry, Sugar-Butt. Five thousand years worth of spoilers. Suffice it to say, brace yourself for more shapeshifting shenanigans.”
She had grown rather fond of that word, hadn’t she? “All the more reason to not judge a book by its cover, then, mmm?”
“Fair, fair.” Finishing her tea with one last slurp, Glitter-Flanks wiggled the teacup in front of her. “The tea, then. Yugure blossom: a personal favorite of ours, though you don’t know about that yet. Inspired, of course, by today’s infamous incident, which I knew all about.”
“Which was a conversation between just the two of us in my private chambers.” Celestia took a calm sip from her tea. “Not a bad start.”
“Mmm.” Rolling her eyes upward, Glitter-Flanks rapped a hoof rhythmically on the tea table. “Let’s see, uhhh… Oh. The second day that I stayed in Ponyville. Not the first,” she said, emphasizing the point with a raised hoof, “on account of you and Luna getting into that little squabble over whether the night should or should not last forever. But the second day.” She closed her eyes, a soft smile playing at her lips. “You wrote me a letter, because after lunch you had found yourself in the conservatory, waiting for me to show up to my afternoon lesson, and that’s when it really sank in. That I’d grown up, and I wasn’t coming back… not as the same pony. I needed to venture out into the world and”—she snickered, giving her wings a gentle adjustment—“spread my wings, as it were.”
Celestia lowered her gaze, staring unfocused at the table. “I remember,” she said, her voice soft and delicate. “I worried, selfishly, that that moment would mark the end of our time together. But I knew that you would never understand true friendship unless you were able to experience it for yourself. To keep you by my side would be to forever stymie your growth.”
“Which is why you didn’t send the letter.” Glitter-Flanks opened her eyes and smiled. “Not ‘til a year or so later, anyway. You were worried that I’d get homesick if you let on that you missed me. But hey!” She flicked her head to one side, sending billowing waves through the many galaxies. “I turned out just fine, didn’t I? Thanks to you.”
That familiar pride, warm and swelling in her chest, brought with it a comfortable smile. She met Glitter-Flank’s eyes. “That you did, Twilight. Though, the crassness still raises a few—”
“Ooo! Ooo, ooo, ooo!” Hopping in her seat, Glitter-Flanks tapped repeatedly at the table. “Got it. Definitive proof.” She motioned for Celestia to lean in, before she whispered in conspiratorial tones, “I know about your birthmark.”
“Birthmark,” Celestia replied, flat. “I don’t have a birthmark.” She didn’t.
“You’re a terrible liar, Sugar-Butt, but that body don’t lie.” Glitter-Flanks’s gaze turned smoky once more. “I could help you find it, if you want.”
Celestia leaned away from the table, feeling a painful sting return to her cheeks and ears. “I-I beg your pardon?”
“Yeah. See?” Glitter-Flanks leaned over the table with a wide grin, her eyes fixated downwards. “You can almost see it. It’s right… about…”
“Enough.” Sliding away from the table, Celestia pushed herself up onto her hooves.
Glitter-Flanks held both her forehooves over her muzzle, trying to keep her laughter from escaping. “Gah! I’m sorry but you gotta stop making it so easy for me! You’re just so wonderfully teasible.”
Celestia fixed her with a narrow-eyed glare that ran down the length of her muzzle. She had obliged this offense far too long. It was ending, now. “I do not know how you treat other ponies back in your own time, but in this era, a bit of respect and common decency is expected.”
“I… Whoa, wait.” Eyes widening, Glitter-Flanks quickly staggered up onto her hooves.
“I don’t know which is more disappointing,” said Celestia, turning her back on Glitter-Flanks, “to think that this was all some poorly-constructed ruse to convince me that you were really Twilight Sparkle—”
“No!” Glitter-Flanks shouted, taking a few steps closer. “Hold on, it’s not like that. I—”
“—or to think that you are who you claim to be,” Celestia said as her voice reached a crescendo, “and how far you’ve fallen from the wonderful pony I knew and cared about!”
“Celestia.”
Celestia fell silent at once. She turned back, her eyebrows raised. Behind her, Glitter-Flanks stood with her head pointed downward. Her ears were folded flat, and her mane and tail draped lifelessly down her side. She looked up at Celestia as light from the outside balcony danced across her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Celestia. I really messed up.” When Celestia said nothing, she swallowed and continued. “I… A few thousand years is a long time to develop habits. I came back here, thinking that I could just act like old times, we’d share some laughs over your embarrassment, and then we’d fall in love all over again, but… you’re not the same Celestia from my time. It was wrong of me to just leap back into the past and to… well, to just presume.”
“It was,” Celestia quietly replied.
Glitter-Flanks sighed. “I just… I really want this to work out. You and me.” She looked down at her hooves, every bit a filly caught sneaking cookies from the cookie jar. “We’ve been so happy together, and… I want that for you. I wanted to show you that happiness.” She looked away, biting her lip. “And now that I rushed in and took your feelings for granted, I’m scared that somehow I broke the time loop and now everything is messed up for good.”
A pang shot through Celestia’s chest. She needed to hold Twilight. She needed to stroke her mane, to tell her that the thunderstorm would pass soon. That she could have an extension on her assignment. That she was a better princess than she gave herself credit for. Celestia couldn’t bear to see her cry. She turned back toward the balcony, taking in a deep lungful of air. “I know. I also apologize, for snapping at you. I know that your heart was in the right place.” She shook her head. A momentary kindness would be far crueler in the end; for Twilight’s sake, Celestia had to be firm. “All the same, you were very untoward. I think it would be best if you left.”
At first there was no reply, but then Celestia heard the light rustle of feathers. “Okay. But, can I show you something first?”
When Celestia turned back to shoot her a look, she saw Glitter-Flanks with her wing raised, revealing a small saddlebag that Celestia had failed to notice earlier. From the bag, Glitter-Flanks retrieved a small book—a photo album—and offered it to Celestia. “I thought that, maybe, this could help.” She shrugged. “To see a bit of the future.”
Celestia looked at the album cover from a distance, then back to Glitter-Flanks. “Don’t you think that’s a bit dangerous, for me to know too much of the future?”
Glitter-Flanks’s eyes refocused on Celestia, and she quickly shook her head. “No, no. I already went through it. Made sure to get rid of all the major spoilers, and all that.” She pursed her lips. “So… Here.”
Glitter-Flanks approached Celestia’s side, holding the book open for both of them. She flipped through the pages, taking each photograph in turn, without any sense of urgency. Celestia watched on as Glitter-Flanks looked over the photos with a warm smile that overtook her features.
Celestia refocused on the page before her to see Twilight, herself, her sister, and her niece all standing atop a stage of some sort, all in their official regalia, with Canterlot in the backdrop. Twilight—or perhaps more accurately, Glitter-Flanks—was as tall and developed in the photograph as she sat beside Celestia now, but the same could be said for the other princesses, Celestia included. It was as though some artist had been commissioned to paint her, highlighting all her best features. Her smile seemed somehow softer, her eyes wiser, her mane positively radiant. Still, the four monarchs stood with stoic and stately demeanor, every bit the epitome of regality.
The photo on the next page was decidedly less regal, seeing as somepony had replaced every painting in the Western Portrait Gallery with images of Celestia’s flanks. The foreground of the selfie featured a toothy-grinned Twilight, looking exceedingly proud of her hoofiwork, while in the background, a pair of Royal Guard frantically replaced the original art while doing their best to avert their gazes. Celestia rolled her eyes and turned the page.
Celestia had difficulty determining what precisely was happening in the next photo. Twilight sat in the center frame, her jaw dropped and tears welling up in her eyes as she stared straight at the camera. A book rested on the ground in front of her, its dust jacket half-removed, exposing the hard-cover beneath. Glitter-Flanks gave Celestia a playful nudge on the shoulder. “This was allegedly a first-edition of Charm Quark’s treatise on quantum magic, which you’d gotten me for my birthday. In actuality, it was just the dust jacket wrapped around some bargain-bin bodice ripper.” She chuckled and turned the page. “I didn’t trust a word you said for weeks.”
The next few pages told similar stories. In one, the statues in the royal gardens had been reposed, all of them saluting with raised butts, while a nonplussed Celestia walked beneath them. In another, Cadance was hugging Twilight tightly against her chest beneath pink and lavender balloons and a banner reading, “IT’S A COLT!” Twilight wore a thousand-yard stare, while Cadance shared a playful smirk with Celestia in the background. “This is what you wanted to show me?” Celestia asked as she flipped through the pages. “The lot of us shirking our duties and devolving into a bunch of pranksters?”
Glitter-Flanks frowned. “No, it’s not about the pranks. It’s… look.” She flipped through the pages faster, quickly scanning them with her eyes. “You said earlier, that you were ‘the Princess’, and I was ‘the Faithful Student’, and… That’s not right. We’re more than that, and I don’t just mean because I’m a princess now.” Glitter-Flanks looked up from the book, looking Celestia in the eyes. “You’re not defined by your title. You’re not some one-dimensional entity with the sole purpose of serving Equestria for the rest of time.”
Celestia smiled at her, almost apologetic. A touching sentiment, one that had been shared on a few occasions over the years, but not one that Glitter-Flanks need worry herself over. “I appreciate the concern, Twilight, but I’m sure you realize how important the ponies of Equestria are to me. They look to me for guidance, and I must be that constant source of strength for them.”
Glitter-Flanks started shaking her head halfway through the rebuttal. “I know. I know how much it means to you, and I’m not saying you should turn selfish all of a sudden. But that doesn’t mean you oughta be selfless instead.” Gently, she placed a wing across Celestia’s shoulders. “We both have long lives ahead of us. Great and rewarding lives, but challenging and thankless at times. Lonely.” She gave Celestia a squeeze with her wing. “I—Little Me—had her suspicions, of course, but it wasn’t until you let me in, that I saw how much you were alone. It hurts to see you that way, you know. Carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
“I am sorry.” Celestia hung her head, letting her ears droop forward. “I do not wish to worry you. Yet, the ponies of Equestria are, and shall ever remain, my solemn duty. It is my greatest wish that all of my little ponies might enjoy their lives in peace. Everything that I do is for their sakes, to see their wonderful smiling faces.”
Glitter-Flanks leaned in closer, drawing Celestia’s eyes to her. “Can’t I be your reason to smile?”
Celestia looked into her eyes for just a moment, before flickering her gaze downward. Below them, the photo album rested on a page with herself and Twilight in a similar pose, her wings wrapped around Twilight, their muzzles resting gently against one another. Celestia gently traced her hoof against her neckline in the photo, beneath a serene smile she could not recall ever seeing before.
“I don’t want to see you hurting, or alone, or feeling like you don’t have another pony to turn to,” said Glitter-Flanks. “I want to be there for you when you need me, to be your shoulder to lean on. You keep on talking about how important your duty is, so let it be my duty to keep you smiling.” She closed her eyes and took a slow breath before continuing. “When you put up these barriers, when you say that you’re okay when you’re clearly not, it hurts, having to sit here and watch helplessly as you sacrifice yourself for everypony else.”
Celestia continued to stare at the picture. Perhaps she had closed her heart in an effort to fortify herself. And perhaps she had closed her eyes, to not consider Twilight as… This was too sudden; Celestia couldn’t recontextualize all of this in an afternoon. Yet Twilight was strong and caring. With all of the time they had spent together, in some ways she understood Celestia better than Celestia understood herself. The photograph and its dual smiles etched itself onto her mind. The image was so pleasant, lingering on the edge of possibilities in Celestia’s mind, yet it was so much to ask.
“Can you let me in?” Glitter-Flanks rested her hoof atop Celestia’s. “I don’t need a promise, not now. I just want the honor of being allowed to try.”
Was there any harm in trying? Or would she turn away and never find the answer?
“I…” Closing her eyes, Celestia took in a breath and slowly released it. “I can’t say with certainty how I will feel. It has been many, many years since I have let anypony get that close. To treat you—treat Twilight—in such a manner, after all that we have been through… I simply cannot say.” She turned to Glitter-Flank, met her eyes, and gave a nod. “But, I think that I am willing to try.”
Glitter-Flank’s eyes grew in size. “You mean it?” she whispered.
“I mean that I need time to listen to my heart and to find what I need right now. But I must confess, the future you’re describing sounds quite pleasant. And,” she added, with a timid smile and a flick of her tail, “the idea of spending that future with Twilight, well… perhaps that could be pleasant as well.”
“Eee!” Glitter-Flanks lunged at her, wrapping her hooves around her. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that, and how happy she’ll be. You won’t regret this. We’ll make sure of that.” With one last wild grin, Glitter-Flanks pulled back and rose to her hooves, then trotted across the chambers.
Celestia too rose to her hooves. She looked over her shoulder and, spotting her reflection in the mirror, she smiled. It was a warm smile. A contented smile. Not the serene one from the photo album but… the photo felt real. Attainable. Could Glitter-Flanks be right in all this?
“You won’t be able to see it from that angle, Sugar-Butt,” Glitter-Flanks called from across the room. “Try laying on your side.”
A quick flick of her tail covered up her hindquarters, as she shot a glare in Glitter-Flanks’s direction. “For the last time, I do not have a—What was that?” She stared up at the puff of green smoke floating above Glitter-Flanks’s horn, before it was whisked up through the fireplace.
“Hmm?” Glitter-Flanks glanced up at her horn, cross-eyed. “Oh. Just sending a letter.”
“To Twilight?”
“Well, of course.” Opening her saddlebags once more, she lifted a small plastic box by her side, which started to pulse with magical intensity in rhythm with her horn.
“Stop,” ordered Celestia, rushing over to the fireplace. “Stop, stop. What are you doing?”
With an incredulous smirk, Glitter-Flanks shrugged wide. “Sending her the gift? I mean, the gift was mentioned in the letter, so she’ll wonder if she doesn’t get this after—”
“Twilight,” Celestia said slowly, grasping her shoulders with both forehooves, “start over. What was in that letter?”
Glitter-Flanks wriggled her nose in the air. “A very heartfelt apology, in what passes for the Princess of Equestria’s pensmanship, for your totally uncalled-for dismissal this afternoon. And an invitation to dinner, to smooth things over.”
Celestia leaned in closer, looking from underneath her brow. “Dinner? When?”
“At… night? Dinnertime?”
Celestia gaped. “Tonight?”
“Uh, of course.” Glitter-Flanks stuck out her tongue. “As if I’m gonna let you drag your hooves on this any longer.”
“Twilight, I just got through telling you… her…” She shook her head vigorously, holding her hooves an inch above her mane. “Whatever. Telling Twilight that our lives were on different paths. Then, you showed up, and were crass, and showed me some pictures, and I said that I could try, and, and…” She turned, flat-eared, to Glitter-Flanks. “Tonight?”
“Oh my gosh! You are so frazzled right now. It’s adorable!” Glitter-Flanks laughed and bumped Celestia’s shoulder with her muzzle. “It’s Twilight. Take a deep breath, and be yourself. You’ll do just fine, I promise.”
Celestia obliged with a flare of her nostrils. Though she focused on the beating of her heart, no amount of willpower could force it back to a normal rhythm. “I know. I know that’s it’s Twilight, but… This is very sudden for me, you understand. I don’t know that I’m ready.”
“You’ll do fine,” she repeated, planting her hoof for emphasis. “Twilight’s the one who needs help here, poor naive thing. But that’s what the gift is for.” Glitter-Flanks gave the box a brief glance as it dissolved into smoke and flew up the chimney. “Plus the letter. I suggested—or rather, you suggested—that she seek advice from her friend. Uh, you know. That one mare.” She tapped her hoof on the ground.
Celestia stared at her, deadpan. “You will not convince me that you forgot the name of one of your friends.”
“No, no.” Glitter-Flanks swatted away the concern, grinning madly. “I’m just drawing a blank. Her name’s on the tip of my tongue, I swear. Anyway, Twilight will be more than ready by dinnertime. Guaranteed.”
“Very well, then,” Celestia said, mid-sigh. Despite Celestia’s objections and her reassurances, Glitter-Flanks seemed intent on remaining as exasperating as ever. “And what of me? Are you planning to lecture me with my own set of matchmaking advice?”
“Nope! I told ya, Sugar-Butt. You’ll be just fine.”
Celestia rolled her eyes skyward and shook her head. “So then I take it you intend to spend the next few hours showering me with more lewd advances.”
“Nah.” Glitter-Flanks smirked at her. “You’re cute, but I’m sorta thousands of years older than you. Cradle-robbing is your thing, not mine.”
“I am going to choose to ignore that,” Celestia said through gritted teeth. “What, pray tell, am I to do until this evening?”
“Not a thing!” As Glitter-Flanks smiled, her horn began pooling a massive amount of magical power. “You’re all set for tonight.”
Celestia frowned, watching the other mare’s horn with rapt attention. “What are you—gah!”
Her hooves shot up over her eyes as the room turned a blinding ultrawhite. Spots blinked away at the peripheries of her vision, stubbornly refusing her attempts to rub them away.
She heard a knock upon the thick doors of her chamber. “Your Highness?” called a muffled voice. “I heard you cry out. Is everything alright?”
“Thank you, Rain Storm.” Celestia ran her hoof from her eyelids to one of her temples, massaging it in small circles. “Nothing to be concerned about. My apologies for worrying you.”
“Not at all, Your Highness,” Rain Storm answered through the door. “Princess Twilight has arrived and seeks an audience.”
“Twilight is here?” Opening her eyes, she turned to question Glitter-Flanks and found her seat cushion unoccupied. The photo album had vanished, and even the tea set was back in its proper home. A tiny part of Celestia’s brain whispered that perhaps this madness had all been nothing but a fever dream. She dismissed the thought with a soft chuckle. As nice as it would be to rationalize the flank-crazed alicorn away, it would be so uncharacteristic for Celestia to take a midday nap. After all, it was still the middle of the… afternoon.
Celestia glared through the open balcony door at the star-filled expanse beyond, and growled under her breath. “Of all the impossible—”
“She said that you would be expecting her,” Rain Storm continued. “Shall I let her in?”
Twilight. An inhale, one, two, three, and release. “For Twilight, always.”
The door swung open, Rain’s smile briefly visible, and then Twilight entered. After Glitter-Flanks’s constant harassment, the sight brought a peaceful smile to her lips and mind at an instant. Gone were the wiry frame, the ethereal mane, and the lewd jokes. Well, perhaps the thick winter parka was a bit unexpected, as were the saddlebags, but she was her size, with her manecut and features, and judging by the warm glow of her smile, she was back in good spirits.
“Good evening, Princess!” Twilight said, brightness shining through her voice. “I’m so glad I could see you again today.”
Celestia tilted her head. By the fact it was suddenly nighttime, clearly Glitter-Flanks had sent her into the future, so perhaps Twilight’s winter coat… No, they had clearly established that dinner would be tonight, so Glitter-Flanks wouldn’t have sent her seasons into the future. And yet, hadn’t the sun been sweltering this afternoon? “Goodness, Twilight” she said, blinking, “you must be so hot right now.”
A silence hung in the air. Twilight’s smile locked rigidly in place, though her ears turned a deep red. Celestia felt the blood draining out of her face.
Rain Storm cleared his throat and turned down the hall. “If you require anything further, Your Highnesses,” he called over his shoulder, “I’ll be… over here.”
Celestia quietly latched the door behind him, and only then did she permit the cringe to overtake her features. “I am exceedingly sorry, Twilight. I don’t know how I blurted out something so inappropriate.” She knew exactly how. “Pray forgive me for offending you.”
“I-It’s fine,” Twilight said, tittering and brushing out her mane. “A little embarrassing, sure, but not… umm… Your letter was really helpful in explaining things. Thank you for sending that, so soon.”
The letter. “Oh. Yes, of course.” Celestia watched her pupil closely for her reaction. To reveal the deception to Twilight, would be to admit that Glitter-Flanks had gotten under her skin. Celestia simply needed to wrest back control of the situation, and then she and Twilight could share a lovely evening together. “I hope the contents of the letter were not unwelcome? Today has been a long and taxing day for us both. As you can tell, I’m a bit… overwhelmed right now.”
“I noticed,” Twilight said with a chuckle, rubbing at the base of her neck. “I’m a bit nervous too, to be honest. But, no. Not unwelcome.” She smiled. “It helped explain a lot, and… I’m looking forward to talking.”
“As am I,” said Celestia, smiling back at her. The letter explained what, exactly? She needed to direct the conversation such that Twilight would provide more clues.
“Oh, and talking with Fluttershy helped too,” Twilight added with a giggle. “She was extremely helpful with figuring this all out. I’m so glad you suggested that.”
“Oh. Fluttershy.” Fluttershy? “Yes. Of course.” Celestia focused on her facial muscles, willing them to not betray her thoughts. She had simply assumed that the letter recommended Rarity. What advice could Fluttershy have given Twilight? “I too am glad that you found the answers you sought.” She motioned to the chamber, inviting Twilight inside.
Twilight smiled, following alongside her. “Would you mind if we ate now? I’m a bit peckish.”
Celestia stopped in her tracks, frowning. Glitter-Flanks had especially planned that there would be dinner, which would have been a terrific thing to notify her kitchen staff about, had the blasted mare not sent her forward in time without—
“I admit,” said Twilight as she grabbed all the pillows from around the tea table and arranged them in front of the fireplace, “it took a lot of willpower not to sneak in a quick bite. These cakes look so tasty.” She pulled out a pair of white boxes from her saddlebag, done up in red frilly ribbon.
Celestia fought hard the urge to roll her eyes at Twilight’s eventual redefinition of the word “dinner”. Then again, at the risk of playing right into Glitter-Flanks’s hooves, she could hardly pass up the chance to indulge her sweet tooth. “Of course, Twilight. No sense in leaving cake uneaten, especially when you were so thoughtful to bring it.” She joined Twilight by the fireside.
She sat down upon her cushion and found herself in front of an wine glass, which Twilight was in the process of filling. A rosé, from the looks of it. “I did not realize you drank, Twilight.” It wasn’t an accusation, and Celestia hoped after the fact that her tone conveyed that. She was simply caught by surprise.
“Oh, you know! Every so often.” Twilight laughed and brushed aside the question with a hoof. “I just figured, well, this is a special occasion, so, what the hay!” She raised her own glass to Celestia in toast.
Taking a breath, Celestia smiled and clinked glasses with her. “What the hay…” She sipped gently, greeted by a rather lovely bouquet—a tingly and fruity flavor that lingered gently without a sugary aftertaste, practically guaranteed to go perfectly with the cakes Twilight had brought. Peeking into her box, Celestia’s heart and eyes swelled as she beheld a slice of red velvet cake with what appeared to be cream cheese frosting, topped with fresh raspberries. She spotted a tiny dessert fork thoughtfully packaged in with the cake and, wasting no time, helped herself to the tiniest of bites. Her eyes rolled back in quiet bliss, as the flavorful red velvet—
A heavy thump hit the pillows next to her. Out the corner of her eye, Celestia spotted Twilight’s winter coat, before her gaze returning to her delectable cake. She had no objection to Twilight making herself more comfortable. After all, the poor dear must have been sweltering under that heavy—
Celestia paused, mid-bite.
Slowly, she turned back to her side, looking above where the coat had fallen. Her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as she beheld her Twilight in… fabric. There was definitely fabric involved, barely. A sheer pink teddy covered her barrel, loose and flowing enough to give her wings plenty of freedom. A thin criss-crossed cord over her back held the outfit together, while naught but a pair of spaghetti straps kept the dress from sliding further down her barrel. As if perfectly timed, one of the straps chose this moment to slip loose, sliding down her leg. Celestia tried to speak but the mouthful of cake prevented it. She attempted to swallow, but her throat had dried up.
“So,” Twilight asked with a grin, “what do you… Oh, drat. It got all twisted up under the coat.” She lifted her leg and lowered her head, biting down—stop watching—on the spaghetti strap using only her teeth—don’t look at her—and pulled, the sheer fabric gliding along her—STOP. STARING.
Celestia whipped her head around and faced forward. The dessert fork quivered in her mouth.
“There! All better.” Twilight called out brightly, before dropping back down into more sultry tones. Hammy, but maddeningly sultry all the same. “So, Princess. What do you think? Is this…” She took a few steps over the pillows, leaning up to whisper into Celestia’s ear. “Hawwwt. Enough for you?”
Celestia darted a quick glance out the corner of her eye, before locking her gaze straight ahead. She could manage nothing beyond a quiet whimper; it felt as though the cake had sucked all moisture from her tongue. Looking down, she spotted the glass of rosé and quickly swapped it with the fork in her mouth, washing the cake down with fizzy effervescence.
“Yesss,” came Twilight’s quiet cheer, as she clapped her hooves together. “I was worried about getting that bit right, so I was practicing in front of the mirror before I came over, and… and I should not have admitted that. Heh.” Blushing, she leaned over and rested her head against Celestia’s shoulder. “Thank you, by the way. For the outfit.”
A jolt of electricity shot up from Celestia’s shoulder to her brain. She looked down at Twilight, nuzzling below her. She saw her beloved student, showing warm affection. She saw Glitter-Flanks, seeking an overly familiar touch. Celestia felt herself growing light-headed.
“It was a really… heh heh, really big surprise to get it, but I really like it. And,” she said, rubbing her muzzle up and down Celestia’s neck. “I’m glad you like it on me.”
Celestia gulped down more of her rosé. She knew she needed to shut this down, just as she had shut down Glitter-Flanks and her lewdness a moment before, yet with a pang of guilt, she recalled Twilight’s crestfallen face from earlier that day. It would require tact, but as long as she spoke up quickly, she could reel in the conversation before—
“Phew.” Twilight ran a hoof through her mane, blinking slowly. “That wine just went straight to my head.”
Jerking her head away from Twilight, Celestia spit her mouthful of rosé back into the glass, then floated the glass away to the opposite side of the room. She quickly grabbed Twilight’s glass away from her as well, which was… still mostly full? Well, Twilight had said she wasn’t a regular drinker. Celestia’s heartbeat pounded within her ears. She felt a deep itch beneath the base of her wings, which no amount of stretching and adjusting could relieve.
“T-Twilight,” Celestia said, regaining her voice not a moment too soon, “this is a bit much, don’t you think? Perhaps we should both”—she swallowed—“take a step back, and a few breaths.” One hundred, ninety three, eighty six. She didn’t feel too buzzed, or at least, so she hoped. “All of this is such a… such a change from our discussion this afternoon. Shouldn’t we take some more time to talk about this?”
“Oh, we can talk all you like, my beautiful flower.”
Fifty eight, fifty one, forty… forty… Celestia turned to stare at Twilight, her face unreadable. “I beg your pardon?”
Twilight wore a goofy grin, the familiar shades of Glitter-Flanks in her more innuendo-laden moments, stripped of their self-assuredness. Unfamiliar and adopted, she wore the expression like a loose-fitting garment—uncomfortably similar to the one she was wearing now. “My goddess, of such picturesque beauty and timeless wisdom, how I long to know your touch. Lay with me, that I might know the heavens in your eyes.”
Celestia flapped her mouth open and shut to no avail. Twilight could not be that drunk. What was with this sudden rubbish? It was befuddling and flowery and, well, not particularly effective either. It nearly seemed as if Twilight were reading—
At once, the pit opened up beneath Celestia. Her eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, and the blood pulsing through her veins turned to ice. As if Twilight were reading from a trashy romance novel. The advice that Twilight had sought from Fluttershy, at Glitter-Flanks’s suggestion.
It’s always the quiet ones.
Twilight threw herself onto the pile of pillows, writhing and twisting on her back. “My princess!” she shouted, hoof to her brow. “Like all within your kingdom, I am yours to command! Come and claim that which is yours. Lay conquest unto me, I beseech you!”
Face aflush, Celestia backpedaled two full steps, frantically looking about the room. There had to be an escape route, or a spell, or… She gasped aloud. The balcony doors were still wide open while Twilight was screaming poetic nonsense like a lunatic. A surge of magic from her horn sent those doors slamming shut, and then wheeling about, she hit the main doors with a silence spell. It was rushed and rudimentary, but it would at least keep Rain Storm and half the castle staff from asking questions that Celestia really did not wish to answer right now. Or ever.
Twilight’s focus was instantly stolen, all of it directed to the sudden burst of magic. She stared quietly at the large double doors. “Did…” She turned, slowly, looking up at Celestia from beneath her bangs while biting her lower lip. “Did you just cast a silence spell on the doors?”
“Yes… No!” Celestia drew herself up to full height, trying to resist the adrenaline pulsing through her veins, urging her to teleport far away from here. “No, Twilight, listen to me. You… you aren’t yourself right now, and you…” Her skin was roasting beneath her coat, while a cold chill grasped at her stomach. She felt faint, as though she’d just flown a dozen somersaults. “We, both of us, need to just take a moment, think about this like rational adults—”
“I think”—Twilight made an unsubtle display of wiggling her eyebrows—“that we’ve done enough thinking. Now is a time for action.” In a panic, Celestia felt herself compelled forward as though by magic. It was, in fact, literal magic; Twilight’s aura pulled Celestia closer, her hooves shoving stray pillows aside as they scuffed across the carpet. Twilight stared into Celestia’s eyes, wetting her lips with her tongue. “Closer…”
Scold Twilight. Teleport away. Say something! Do anything! Celestia’s mind was full of static, her limbs heavy and sluggish. Twilight pulled her closer, reaching up to her. She could feel her warmth. She could see her smile. A tiny part of herself, buried deep within, just wanted to let go and fall into her.
Twilight wrapped a hoof around Celestia’s withers. She pulled herself up, brushing her muzzle against Celestia’s chest fluff. And with a deep inhale—
“Pbbbt!”
“Aiee!” Celestia’s voice rang out in a wild giggle as Twilight planted a raspberry on her chest. She twisted and squirmed and pushed against Twilight with her wings, yet she held on tight. “Twi-l-l-light! Stop! That tickles!” Laughter overtook her, and her legs threatened to buckle from beneath her.
Twilight mercifully released her, collapsing back onto the pillows in her own gigglefit. “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Ahhh!” Her head lolled back, tears welling in her eyes as she kicked her hooves about in the air. “I can’t believe I did that! Oh gosh, Princess!” She clutched at her stomach with one hoof while wiping away tears with the other. “Princess, I am so sorry but oh my gosh! That was so wild!”
Celestia caught her breath first and stepped back, giving Twilight time to recover. She felt like she’d just splashed down at the end of a water slide, slowly gliding to a halt yet completely disoriented.
“Are you okay?” Twilight tried to prop herself up with a single shaky leg. “Your face is so red right now. I’m so sorry, I know I should’ve stopped ages ago, but I just got so caught up and ahhh I don’t know what came over me!” She fell back onto her back, laughing. “I actually gave you a raspberry, oh jeez!”
“This…” Celestia paused, getting the last few pent-up giggles out of her system. “This was all just a prank?”
“I… Yeah, are you kidding? Oh gosh.” Twilight motioned down at herself, an incredulous grin on her face. “Can you believe what I’m wearing? I knew—” Her mouth clicked shut as she widened her eyes. She grabbed a nearby pillow and held it against herself, covering up. “Oh jeez, I can’t believe I’m wearing this in front of you. But, c’mon! I was supposed to believe you sent this as a gift for me to wear tonight? Right after we had that talk? Of course this was somepony’s prank. Wow, but I can’t believe I actually went through with it! Wow.” She took a few deep breaths, trying to slow herself down.
Celestia swallowed, turning her head away. “It, ah, it certainly was something.”
“Oh, and those books! Poor Fluttershy, I had no idea.” Twilight chuckled, eyes squinting shut. “So very, very tacky, and yet so perfect.”
“Mmm hmm.” Celestia arched an eyebrow at her. “And the wine?”
Twilight’s laughter died down. “Oh. That.” Looking away, she smoothed out the pillow laying against her tummy. “That, uh, that was my idea. From reading Fluttershy’s books.” She looked at her full glass sitting on the table, where Celestia had taken it to safety. “I don’t actually drink,” she quietly added.
Sighing deeply, Celestia smiled and shook her head. “Well, Twilight, color me surprised. This was quite the ruse you pulled off. I must admit that the whole matter caught me off-balance.” In the same sense that the surface of the sun was a bit warm.
Twilight scratched at her neck, wearing a toothy, embarrassed grin. “Yeah. Heh. Sorry. But I can’t take all the credit. The letter and the dress weren’t even my idea.” She looked around, as though expecting somepony to leap out from behind the furniture. “It was Cadance, wasn’t it? Even Rainbow or Pinkie wouldn’t go this far.”
“Not quite,” said a voice behind them both. “But I am very impressed that you saw the truth in this. You’ve learned much, my Faithful Student.”
In the corner of the room, the walls themselves warped and rippled like water, and from them, Glitter-Flanks stepped forth. Her wings were spread wide in a regal pose, contrasting with her salacious smile. “Not bad, kiddo. You did me proud.”
“You’re…” Twilight’s head twisted to the side, grappling with the sight in front of her. “You’re me. But, you’re from the future, aren’t you?”
“At your service,” said Glitter-Flanks with a bow. “Had to travel back to help you get hooked up with this fine piece, here.”
Twilight blinked. And frowned. “Wait.” Her brow furrowed, and her expression darkened. “Hey!” She rose to her hooves, marching up to Glitter-Flanks. “You sent me the letter? You’re trying to help me spend time with Celestia? But according to Starswirl the Bearded’s Third Theorem—”
“Shhh. Shh, shh, shh.” Glitter-Flanks gently petted Twilight’s mane, wearing an apologetic smile. “Little Me, it’s not me who’s saying that you don’t got game. It’s causality itself.”
Twilight scrunched up her nose and puffed out her cheeks.
Celestia chuckled and shook her head. “I am sorry to say, Twilight, that it seems you become rather insufferable at some point in the distant future.”
“Still!” Glitter-Flanks looked askance to Celestia and jerked her head down at Twilight. “She was pretty impressive, don’tcha think? Did you two have fun?”
Twilight ran a hoof through her mane, as giddy laughter was at last replaced with familiar neuroticism. “If by ‘fun’ you mean subjecting her to a cavalcade of increasingly embarrassing scenarios, which somehow you thought was a good—”
“Shh.” Glitter-Flanks bopped her younger counterpart’s horn and looked to Celestia, quietly expectant.
Celestia’s breath caught in her throat. She looked over at the fireplace and chewed on her lip while gathering her thoughts.
“Princess?” whispered Twilight.
“It was… quite embarrassing,” Celestia said, a whirlwind of thoughts tearing through her mind as she spoke at a measured pace, “and contrary to what your older self might attempt to convince you, I am not especially fond of that feeling. And yet”—she paused, searching for the words—“it was strangely liberating.”
“Liberating?” Twilight tilted her head, ears perked forward.
“None of the ponies in Equestria would dream of treating me in such a manner; they’d be far too timid and embarrassed. Nor could I allow that from any other, for the disrespect that others might interpret. And yet…” The itch beneath her wings returned. Celestia gave them a flap, then rolled her shoulders, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. “Twilight and I have been so close, for so long. Her intentions are good, and I trust her.” She blinked and stared at nothing in particular, echoing the words, “I trust her.”
“She’s a wonderful pony,” said Glitter-Flanks, “in my completely unbiased opinion.” Twilight stared wordlessly at Celestia, then up at Glitter-Flanks who wrapped her wing around her younger self. “If you trust her as you say, do you think you could take that trust one step further?”
Celestia pursed her lips, staring into Twilight’s wide eyes. Her heartbeat raced once more, but unlike the rest of the night, she felt in control. She could see. “I cannot honestly say. I won’t pretend to know the future with any certainty. And yet,” she said, smiling at her Twilight, “the possibility is worth exploring.”
Twilight’s mouth slowly fell open as she stared back into Celestia, unblinking.
“Dude!” Glitter-Flanks beamed at Twilight, shaking her vigorously. “Dude! Did you hear that? You’re totally in. Go get her!” She pushed Twilight forward with her wing, causing the smaller alicorn to take a few stumbling steps forward.
Twilight stared up in wonder at Celestia. She opened her mouth, then let it fall closed. Glancing down at her hooves, she smoothed out her pink teddy with her wings. Then, with a small nod of conviction, she looked up at Celestia. “Thank you,” she said, “for giving me a second chance. And thank you,” she said, looking behind herself at Glitter-Flanks, “for helping in such an unusual way.” She stared back into Celestia’s eyes and shared a smile, before closing her eyes. “I’m afraid that I have to say no.”
“No?” Celestia’s voice betrayed her, a hint of disquiet leaking through.
“Part of me wants to say yes.” Twilight gave a dry chuckle. “Really, really wants to say yes. Thinking about what life could be like if we were acting wild and crazy like this, day after day.” She pursed her lips, sighed, and shook her head. “But… this wasn’t us. This was a dress in a box and some elaborate ruse from my future self. This was just getting thrown into the ocean and learning how to swim. It wasn’t… us.” She looked at Celestia, her eyes bordering on sadness but her smile erasing that fear. “Maybe someday. That would be nice, I think. But, I don’t think we’re ready for that. Maybe… maybe we could go at our own pace instead.”
“Our own pace.” Celestia felt a warmth blossoming up from within her chest, which spread to her smile. “I would like that, Twilight. I would like that very much.” She fell into Twilight’s eyes once more, savoring every moment of it.
“Mmm hmm.” Glitter-Flanks’s eyes dropped closed, and she smiled in her own way. “It sounds like both of you learned something very important today.” With a small nod, she turned and walked toward the balcony.
Celestia blinked, the spell in Twilight’s eyes momentarily broken. “Wait.” She took a few steps after Glitter-Flanks. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”
Glitter-Flanks turned back to her and smiled. Celestia’s breath caught in her throat. She recognized that serene smile. She had seen it, once before.
The corners of Celestia’s lips turned up, and she shook her head. Positively impossible. With a respectful bow, she gave the warmest smile she could muster. “You have my deepest thanks,” she said with a chuckle, “Glitter-Flanks.”
Twilight let out a loud nasally snort. “What? What?” She tried to stifle her laughter in her forehooves. “I’m sorry, Princess, what did you just call me?”
Before Celestia could answer, Glitter-Flanks winked at Twilight. “Just a little pet-name that Celestia came up with for you.”
“Wait.” Celestia’s eyes widened in realization. “Wait. No!” She marched forward, glaring as Glitter-Flanks glowed and crackled with aetheric energy. “I did not—”
Glitter-Flanks winked and stuck out her tongue. There was a blinding flash of light, and then she was gone.
Twilight and Celestia stood in silence, contemplating the spot where she once stood. In time, their eyes were drawn back to one another’s. “So,” Twilight said, tittering and shifting her weight.
“So.” Butterflies danced in her stomach. Yet unlike the earlier torment, there was no panic, no desire to flee, no excuses. This was good. This felt right.
Twilight glanced at the doors to the chamber, licked her lips, and looked back at Celestia. “Would it be okay if I stayed a bit longer?” When Celestia’s eyes widened, Twilight smirked back at her. “I mean, to talk. I had a really interesting day yesterday that I thought you’d like hearing about.”
“I would love that.” Smiling, Celestia leaned down to nuzzle Twilight, though she stopped at the last moment.
Twilight, too, blanched. “Maybe, first I should—”
“I was just thinking—”
“Could go change out of this—”
“I would really prefer that you—”
“Yeah.”
Twilight and Celestia shared a grin before bursting into laughter.