Twilight hit the ground hard, tumbling onto her side. The grass was cold against her skin, and before she could even begin to pick herself up again a wave of nausea rose up through her throat, caustic and vile. That was the furthest she’d ever teleported before, far past the point where it was dangerous, and she was feeling the brunt of the worst side effects in full force. Faced with such an immediate, disorientating change, Twilight’s subconscious responded in the only way it knew how, and she threw up onto the grass.
So much for the manor’s impeccable lawn.
Still, it was better than the alternatives. Insanity and death weren’t particularly inviting prospects, and Twilight was glad she didn’t have the presence of mind to think about the repercussions before she teleported. She had enough to worry about.
Wiping the bitter taste of vomit from her mouth, all while knowing full well it would linger on her tongue anyway, Twilight gathered herself and began to make her way slowly towards the house. Her legs quivered with every step, as if they were scared that she might suddenly teleport somewhere else if she placed a hoof wrong. Twilight wasn’t too concerned. She didn’t see the point in hurrying even if she could. Her secret was already out, and Shining wouldn’t be expecting her back for a while yet. Cadance and Velvet would probably search the town for her first, too, and even if they didn’t they still had to wait for a train. The one thing Twilight didn’t have to worry about right now was time.
Celestia, she’d been so stupid.
Getting caught had been bad enough, and then she had nearly admitted everything to the wrong pony. If she’d said anything more…
There was one bright side, at least, paltry though it might have been. Cadance had no idea what Twilight had been talking about, which meant that so far Shining Armor had kept it to himself. Small comfort, but at least it was something. More than she’d had for a while.
The strength had started to return to her legs as she climbed the few steps to the manor doors, though now a deep ache had settled in her muscles, and her head had started to pound. It wasn’t really an improvement.
Entering the lobby, Twilight added another problem to her ever-growing list: finding her brother in such an enormous building. He had to be here somewhere – there was no other reason he’d send them all away – but the mansion was huge. It was all too easy to be swallowed up by the twisting corridors and innumerable side rooms, and she had no idea where to even begin looking.
The house was silent. Twilight was used to the library’s silence, but it was acutely different. That quiet was never truly empty, the constant rustle of the leaves outside and gentle creaking of wood becoming almost a companion on those late night study sessions. But this? This silence was dead. Completely and utterly empty. She shifted slightly, and even that sent echoes throughout the entrance hall.
And that was it. That was the answer. Twilight smiled; she’d still got it. If only she could solve her problems as quickly as she kept making them.
Magic filled her horn, Twilight letting the familiar sense of pressure build. It was harder than usual, the threads of magic seeming to dance out of her mind’s grasp half the time, but she got there in the end. Celestia, it was tiring though. That teleport had taken more out of her than she’d thought. Twilight wished she could let the spell go now, her head aching in complaint, but she had to hold it for a while yet. She gritted her teeth, and a warm tingle covered her ears as she bathed them in magic. They twitched, and she concentrated, holding her breath as she strained for the slightest sound.
The first thing she heard was a small, quiet scuttling. Faint to begin with, but as she concentrated her magic it became a roaring ocean, thousands upon thousands of sounds melding into one, overshadowed by a huge, rhythmic booming. Twilight shuddered, and pulled it back a little. That was way too sensitive. The scuffling was the sound of hundreds of insects crawling around inside the manor walls, the booming her own heartbeat. But while everything had been magnified Twilight had briefly heard what she’d been after, before it became lost in the cacophony. She tried again, more slowly this time. Louder, louder, louder… There. Above her, way off to the left. Her ears whipped to the side almost like a cat’s, guided by her magic as if on invisible strings. Voices. Masculine. One shouting, the other subdued. Twilight could have made them louder still, but she couldn’t make them any clearer after going through so many walls. It was too muffled to hear what they were actually saying, but it would be more than enough for what she needed it for.
Twilight just wanted to find them.
Her bearings set, she shook her legs to try and ease their aching, and headed up the stairs into the heart of the mansion, wincing slightly as her head begged her to stop the magic. But she couldn’t do that, not yet. She still had a long way to go.
***
“And so, after Sunripe finished cleaning the town after the mess he’d made, the Head Unicorns decided to set limits on transmutation to stop anything like that happening ever again.”
Celestia smiled as Twilight finished, sending a warm little burst of happiness through her chest. The Great Tomato Flood had been a risky project choice, but it seemed to have paid off in the end.
“Very good, Twilight.” The monarch took another sip of her tea as Twilight beamed so wide her cheeks hurt. Rain spattered against the windows of Celestia’s quarters, the sky dyed a dark and foreboding grey, but it did nothing to dull Twilight’s mood. If anything, it only made her time with the Princess that much more cosy. “But the books tend to gloss over the other reason for the new laws, and what became of poor Sunripe.” Celestia paused, then shook her head. “Then again, I often forget how young you still are. Perhaps it’s for the best they omit it.”
Twilight would normally have pressed the matter after Celestia said something like that, but she already knew all the grisly details. One of the many benefits of having unlimited access to the Canterlot library was that she could read plenty of books that weren’t necessarily part of the “approved” curriculum. And among them she’d discovered Sunripe hadn’t been the one to clean up after his failed experiment, no matter what the school books said. It would have been difficult for him to do so, in fact, due to the slight complication of him being very dead.
“It’s a shame, in some ways,” Celestia continued wistfully, perhaps not even really talking to her student anymore. “I think he might have served as a much better warning with the truth.”
Secretly, Twilight agreed. Magical overexertion was nothing to take lightly, even if Sunripe hadn’t meant his spell to go so far. Especially since he hadn’t meant to.
Celestia spread her wings wide, closing her eyes as she stretched them with an appreciative nicker. Twilight still couldn’t get used to seeing things like that, no matter how often the Princess did them. She’d held Celestia in such high esteem for so long that whenever she did something so… ponyish, something that any pegasus on the streets of Canterlot would do without a moment’s thought, the sight was always a little jarring. Once, Celestia had actually apologised for treating her lessons a little informally, admitting she enjoyed the time away from the demands of royalty, and of course Twilight told her it was okay. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how stressful being a princess would be, and privately thanked the sun that she wasn’t one.
All too often, though, royal affairs interrupted their otherwise quiet meetings. Some things were too important to be avoided, and today seemed to be no exception with a loud, official-sounding knock at the door.
“Enter,” said Celestia, rolling her eyes and giving Twilight an apologetic look.
The pony entered. His golden dress-armour gleamed, so shiny the reflections almost hurt Twilight’s eyes, and as soon as the door closed behind him he drew himself up in a smart salute.
“Princess.” He turned to Twilight, and saluted again. “My lady.”
Twilight giggled. Now it was her turn to roll her eyes.
“What is it, Sergeant?” asked Celestia.
“My apologies for the interruption, but the griffon ambassador has arrived, and has asked to see you personally. I would have told him to wait, but I understand you wanted the matter treated with the utmost importance.”
Celestia sighed, and nodded. “Yes, I really shouldn’t keep him waiting. The fool takes ‘Hello’ as a personal insult half the time, he’ll probably declare war if I don’t see him immediately.” The Princess blushed. “That never leaves this room, understand?”
Twilight nodded, well used to Celestia’s frustrated outbursts.
“Sergeant?”
“I’ve already forgotten it, Princess.”
“Excellent.” Celestia turned back to Twilight. “I’m truly sorry, but I hope you don’t mind cutting the lesson short. I have to attend to this. Sergeant, perhaps you would escort Twilight back to her quarters?”
“Of course, Princess.”
“Wonderful. I’ll see you tomorrow then, Twilight. I’ve got a particularly exciting lesson planned, so make sure to bring plenty of water.”
Twilight was understandably concerned by that, but Celestia was gone before she could ask about it, the last wisps of her tail disappearing through one of the many doors that lined the room. She turned to the guard with a sigh as he began to lead her out into the castle corridors.
They walked in silence for a spell, the only company the clink of his armour and the occasional flurry of movement from any guard they passed, scrambling to salute them. Eventually, Twilight couldn’t bear keeping quiet any longer.
“My lady?”
Shining Armor grinned, not even breaking his stride. “You didn’t like that?”
“It sounded so strange coming from you.”
“Well, you better get used to it Twily. You’re important now, like it or not.”
Twilight shrugged. “I’m not the only one though, huh Sergeant?” she said, nudging him in the side.
“Yeah yeah, sure. It’s still just a start, though.”
“It’s pretty good for ‘just a start’. Look how fancy that armour is!”
Shining glanced back at the metal adorning his shoulders, as if noticing it for the first time. “I guess it’s about time I got something to fit the name, huh?”
And it was fitting, she had to admit. No helmet anymore (which was a shame, she’d loved mocking that ridiculous head frill), but his armour was much bulkier and more ornate than most of the other guards, right down to the etching of Celestia’s portrait in the sun on his shoulder guards. The whole thing screamed ‘important’, though it probably cost more than he actually made in a year. “So, when were you planning to tell Mom and Dad?”
“Oh, er…” He scratched his mane sheepishly. “They already know.”
Twilight blinked. “And you didn’t tell me? Whatever happened to BBBFF?”
“I wanted to show you in person! And besides, I knew how you’d react.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Shining put on an over-exaggerated, high pitched voice, the one he always did when imitating Twilight that annoyed her so much. “You don’t have to try so hard just because Dad was in the Royal Guard too. It’s not a competition.”
“Well it’s not!”
“I never said it was.”
Twilight scowled at him, but Shining remained completely unruffled.
“If I didn’t know any better,” he continued, “I’d say you were worried I’m gonna be more important than you soon.”
“See, now you’re definitely making it a competition.”
Shining grinned. “With you? Always.”
He stopped suddenly, and Twilight was surprised to find they’d already arrived at her room. Her brother had always had a strange way of making the time pass so quickly; probably because he teased her just as much as she teased him.
“Do you want to hang around for a bit?” she asked. “I can make us some tea or something.”
“Tea?” Shining gave her a strange look.
“Is that so weird?”
“No, but I think the Princess is rubbing off on you.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I would if I could, but I can’t stay. I’m enlisting for personal detail this afternoon.”
“For Celestia?”
“Of course not, it takes years to get onto Celestia’s guard. Nah, this is another royal.”
“Great, you’ll have to deal with some stuffy prince who treats you like dirt instead.”
Shining chuckled. “Something like that, sure.”
“You know,” said Twilight, her smile fading a little, “you don’t always have to push yourself so hard. When was the last time we spent time together? Properly, I mean.”
“I have to work hard, Twily. I’ve got plans.”
“You always say that. But if you’re comparing yourself to Dad or something-”
“It’s not like that.” Shining’s words were firm – final. They didn’t leave room for questioning him, but Twilight was going to anyway. He was her brother, after all, and if she didn’t then no-one else would.
“He’s proud of you already. You don’t have to try and match him or anything.”
“I know he is,” he said, “but I told you it’s not about one-upping him. I’ve got my reasons.”
Twilight sighed. This was hopeless. “You never get any less stubborn, do you?”
He smiled the way he always did when she said things like that, taking it as a point of pride rather than the jab it was meant to be. “Would you have me any other way?”
“Of course not. But if you ever make Captain you’re going to make Dad so jealous.”
“Yeah, well, that’s a long way off yet.”
“Aha!” exclaimed Twilight triumphantly. “So you are trying to beat him!”
“I didn’t say that,” Shining insisted. “But you’re right, he’d definitely be jealous.” He paused, and broke out in a wicked grin. “Maybe Dad should be worried after all.”
***
Twilight’s magic fizzled and died, leaving the world muted and empty. She was close enough now that she could hear them without it, and despite weakening the spell she’d been able to make out words before she cut it entirely. Twilight didn’t want to hear that yet, even if she’d only bought herself a minute of respite. She’d had enough of listening to arguments behind closed doors.
That didn’t stop her from hearing the shouts now, though – unmistakably Shining’s. Before she’d killed the spell she’d heard her father’s voice, too. Not much, a single word, his voice hollow and quiet, and yet even that had filled her with a rush of love and heartache.
Twilight.
And then she’d stopped her magic and his voice vanished, drowned out by oppressive quiet and Shining’s muffled yells. Twilight tried to walk slowly, even taking a moment to freshen her mouth with another pulse of magic, ignoring the immediate pang in her head that followed. She didn’t want to go through the door, didn’t want to see Shining, but as she got closer her hooves sped up almost of their own accord, stumbling with her unsteady, uncertain gait. Her breaths came quick and short, her head still pounding, and the corridor seemed to stretch out before her as she half-walked, half-ran down it.
And then she was at the door, and she could hear Shining Armor behind it almost as clearly as she had with her magic.
“No, there’s no explaining this. There’s not a fucking thing you could say to even start to-”
Twilight shoved open the door.
She did it harder than she meant to, and the door handle hit the wall with a loud slam. The two stallions whipped round, Shining’s words cut off abruptly as he jumped at the sudden interruption. Even in the expression of surprise and guilt she could see the anger buried in it. Her father was just as startled, but instead of anger there was nothing but a deep hopelessness in his eyes.
“Twilight?”
She wasn’t even sure which of them had spoken. Perhaps both. She didn’t think it mattered. Here, now, Twilight was at a complete loss. She’d been so determined to get back she’d not even thought about what to say, where to begin. The two ponies stared at her, and she stared back, the silence in the air thick and choking. It held a moment longer, and then she couldn’t bear it anymore, and she ran past her brother to Night Light and wrapped her hooves around him and buried herself in his neck. His warmth, his scent, his everything, oh she’d needed it, now more than ever. And he hugged her back, tightly holding her to him with just as much relief as she felt, a silent promise that they could handle this together.
But they couldn’t hold the embrace forever, no matter how much Twilight wanted to. And when she turned back to face Shining his surprise had vanished. He was shaking, almost imperceptibly, his movements so slight that if Twilight wasn’t looking for them she’d never have noticed. His jaw was clenched shut, so tightly that Twilight was surprised it wasn’t hurting him. Maybe it was. But his eyes were the worst part. In them wasn’t the fury she’d been anticipating, or the shock from before. Instead her brother looked at her with nothing but disgust.
Night Light stepped forward, putting himself between Twilight and her brother. “Shining, let’s just-”
And then Shining hit him.
Hard.
Night Light reeled, Twilight quickly moving to steady him as he stumbled backwards into her. He shook his head and wiped his mouth, and Twilight glimpsed a brush of dark scarlet against the blue of his fur.
“Okay,” he said, a little shakily. “Maybe I deserved that.”
“Yeah,” Shining replied through gritted teeth. “You did.”
***
Twilight muttered under her breath as she flipped through the pages for what felt like the millionth time. Whenever she reached a particularly important section she’d underline it, or even scribble a note at the side of the page. She was so focused she’d sometimes underline something for the second time without even realising, and it was no surprise that she didn’t hear the knock on the door at first. It came again, much louder, and she jumped and nearly upended her inkwell all over the book, catching it at the last second with her magic.
“Miss Sparkle?” came a concerned voice through the wood.
“Yes, what is it?”
“The lieutenant is here to see you. Should I tell him you’re busy?”
Oh no, was it really that late already? Twilight glanced out the window, and was horrified to see how far the sun had crossed the sky.
“No, no, it’s fine. You can let him in.” Twilight scanned the room as she flattened her mane as best she could. It looked as though a small, localised tornado had swept through it, scattering pages and books all over the floor. She’d long since abandoned her desk, piled high with literature of its own, and was sitting in what was the only patch of free space left in the room. Well, perhaps ‘free’ was too generous. She shunted away a book that had been poking her rear with a corner. Oh well, it was too late to do anything about it now. The door opened, and Shining Armor stepped inside, immediately kicking a book clear across the room and yelping in surprise.
Twilight tried to stifle her laugh, but not very hard. “Good to see your military training is paying off.”
Flustered, Shining fiddled with a strap on his armour, as if ignoring the past ten seconds would mean they never happened. He raised his head, and looked around the room with steadily increasing horror. “What in Tartarus happened here, Twily? Did you mess up a spell or something?”
“When have I ever messed up a spell this badly?”
“Well,” he said, delicately, “there was that one time you turned the pet rabbit into a-”
“I mean apart from that,” Twilight quickly interrupted, trying her best to avoid that particular memory. She couldn’t have known it would end up like that, of course, but finding a fireproof cage for it afterwards had been difficult, and feeding it had been a nightmare. “Anyway, this isn’t a spell gone wrong. This is… organised chaos.”
“Uh-huh.” Shining tried to tiptoe around a tall stack of elk war history volumes and ended up tipping the whole thing over.
“It was organised, at least.”
He gave her a briefly apologetic look, though it quickly turned to concern now he was close enough to look at her properly. “Are you okay, Twily? You look exhausted.”
“Oh, no, I’m fine.”
“Yeah? Did you not get enough sleep or something?”
“Sleep? Oh, right, uh…” Twilight’s eyes drifted to the window again. “What time is it?”
“Ten,” he replied. “Remember, we were going to-”
“It’s ten already? Ten in the morning?”
“Of course ten in the morning, when else would it be? Did you get any sleep last night?”
Twilight frowned at him. “Depends, what day is it?”
“Oh forget it.”
“No, I’m fine,” she insisted. “I was just… studying for… uh…” Her attention fell back down to the textbook in front of her. The three rules of magical teleportation were-
SNAP
She jumped as Shining slammed the book shut with his magic.
“Huh?” she asked, dumbly.
“I said, are you ready to go? But I guess that’s a stupid question.”
“Yes, no, I mean, I just…” Twilight took a long look at the swathes of papers and books surrounding her. A sea of studying, and she was adrift in the middle, barely holding on. “Shining, I’m really sorry, but can we do this another time? Celestia has a big test for me coming up, and I have to-”
Her brother raised a hoof to quiet her. “Okay, I get it. Don’t worry about it. We can hang out next time I have leave, if you’re not so busy.”
Twilight could tell he was disappointed. His shoulders slumped slightly, deflated, but he didn’t try to persuade her. Instead he took another, careful step closer.
“Come here,” he said.
She was quick to jump up and give him an appreciative hug. Shining Armor was always so understanding when it came to things like this. He never pushed her, never insisted. He knew how important this was to her, and Shining would never get in the way of that. It still didn’t stop him from showing his due brotherly concern, of course.
“Promise me you’ll get some sleep instead. You’ll feel better for it.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “But only for my BBBFF.”
He chuckled gently. “You know we’re not kids anymore, right?”
“No one ever told me!” Twilight exclaimed in mock horror.
“Good, don’t let them.” Shining gave her one last smile, then he seemed to gather himself and he navigated his way back across the room, taking care to avoid any more pillars of books. “And take care of yourself, Twily.”
“You don’t need to tell me that.”
“Someone’s got to,” came Shining’s voice from the other side of the door, as it slowly closed behind him. “Otherwise you might forget.”
***
Night Light rubbed his jaw, nudging Twilight away whenever she tried to fuss over him. Her father looked very small in his chair, and not just because it was built for an alicorn.
On the other side of the room, Shining glared at the both of them, as if daring them to try and speak, to justify themselves. He hadn’t spoken himself for some time, not since he’d hit Night Light. The silence was colder than his anger had been.
Her brother finally broke. “Why?” The question floated across the quiet, broken and hollow.
Night Light cleared his throat, nervously. “That’s a hard question to-”
“Shut up.” Shining’s voice was a sudden crack of a whip, silencing his father instantly. “I wasn’t asking you.”
Night Light flinched slightly, before settling back down and giving Twilight’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“I didn’t mean to,” she said, quietly.
“What?”
“I said I didn’t mean to.”
“I heard what you said. I’m having a hard time working out how this was an accident.”
“No, I mean… I mean it wasn’t meant to end up like this.”
Something in Shining snapped. He burst from his chair, teeth bared in fury. “No, it fucking wasn’t!” he roared. “What is wrong with you? With both of you? How can this be something either of you wanted?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “When I saw- When I found you two like that, I wanted so badly to be wrong. I had to be wrong, it couldn’t be what I thought I’d seen. And now here you are admitting to it, and telling me that it’s been going on this whole holiday, maybe longer, and I’m the only one who seems to see how sick this is.”
Night Light stepped in, trying to shield his daughter from the brunt of Shining’s anger. “Please Shining, just listen for a minute and we can-” He didn’t get any further before Shining Armor rounded on him instead.
“And you. I don’t know what you said to her, how you managed to convince Twilight that your fucked up fantasies were okay, but I swear to Celestia if you think for one second that I’m going to-”
“No, you’ve got it wrong!” Twilight hated the desperate, pleading note in her own voice. She sounded so powerless, cowed by her brother’s words. But she just wanted him to understand. No, not even that; she just wanted him to accept them. His fury hurt almost as much as her longing for Night Light had. “This is all my fault,” she said, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. “I had to convince Dad, he didn’t want to at first.”
Whatever Shining had expected her to say, it wasn’t that. The wind fell out of his sails, the fury melting from his features to be replaced by pure, stunned surprised. His ears flattened back against his head as he took an uncertain step away. “You…?”
“I know it’s difficult,” she said, pressing onwards as best she could now he was showing cracks in his armour at last. “But if you have to be mad at anyone, you have to be mad at me.”
Shining’s gaze flickered between the two of them, back and forth, back and forth. “No, you’re wrong,” he muttered. “This isn’t you, Twily. It can’t be. He might have made you think that, but-”
“Remember the train ride here?”
“What?”
“I heard you talking to Cadance. You said you were worried about me, and that I was acting weird.”
“You heard that? I thought you were asleep.”
She shook her head. “But this is why. I didn’t want to come because I didn’t think I could bear to be so close to Dad and know I couldn’t be with him.” She heard slight movement behind her at that, but she didn’t turn around. Looking at Night Light now would have been too much. “And I was right. I had to tell him how I felt. I tried to keep it to myself, really, but I couldn’t do it. You know what that’s like, don’t you? With Cadance.”
“Keep her out of this,” he growled. “That’s nothing like what you and Dad have been doing.”
“Isn’t it? She’s a Princess. You weren’t supposed to fall in love with her, but you did anyway, and then you fought to be with her no matter what. Shouldn’t I do the same?”
“It’s not the same!” Shining was shouting again. The anger was back, red hot and boiling over. “It’s nothing close to being the same. He is your father. He’s married. To your mother. This isn’t some ‘forbidden love’ thing, Twilight, or whatever you’ve convinced yourself it is. This is wrong.” He hesitated. “And it’ll break Mom when she finds out.”
Twilight’s heart stopped. “You can’t tell her.”
“So I’m supposed to just keep it secret?” Shining snorted derisively. “She deserves to know her husband’s cheating on her, even if it’s with you. Especially since it’s with you.”
“No, you can’t do that!” Panic began to claw its way up Twilight’s spine, thick and claustrophobic.
“Why not? Give me one good reason, because from where I’m standing-”
“Because I love him!”
Shining recoiled as if she’d slapped him. The vehemence in her shout had surprised even Twilight, turning into a scream of almost pure emotion, all the restraint she’d kept throughout their argument shattering all at once. She stood panting, breathless, the exhaustion running deep into her bones. It ached. Twilight was hollow, as if she’d poured everything she was into that final declaration, leaving nothing but a shell behind.
Her brother stared at her for a few moments more. And then, without another word, he left the room, not even sparing a glance at either of them, slamming the door behind him as she watched him go. The noise was enough to break Twilight out of whatever reverie she’d been in, and another small surge of panic jolted through her. “Wait,” she began, making to follow him when a hoof caught her shoulder and held her back.
“Don’t,” said Night Light, his voice low and impossibly calm. “You’ll only make it worse.”
Twilight stomped a hoof in frustration. “Worse than this?”
“Yes,” he said, without hesitation.
“How could it be worse? You saw what he was like. Shining hit you, he’s never going to listen to us.”
“No, he’s not,” Night Light agreed, and Twilight’s hopes sunk even lower. “But he might still listen to you.”
“What gave you that idea?”
Her father sighed heavily. “Shining’s already decided to hate me for this, and nothing I could say to him would convince him otherwise. But he’s always tried to protect you, Twilight, ever since you were foals, and that’s why he’s so angry. He thinks he failed you.”
“But I told him it was my fault.”
Her father frowned. “You don’t have to say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like this is something to be blamed for.” Her father placed his hoof under her chin, and lifted it so their eyes met. “If you’re ashamed of us, then Shining was right.”
“Of course I’m not.”
“Neither am I, and so it’s no-one’s ‘fault’.” He smiled, but it was short-lived. “And you can still talk to him about this, try to persuade him not to tell Velvet.” Night Light’s eyes were brimming, but he managed to keep his tears back. “I’ve already lost my son, I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t lose you.”
“Okay,” she whispered. He was close, so close she could feel the warmth coming off him. “I’ll try.”
“That’s my girl.” Her father’s hoof stroked against her cheek, then up over her forehead, brushing any errant strands of her mane out of her eyes. It was something he’d done as long as she could remember, often after reading to her in bed, back when she was small. Back when things were simple. “But he needs some time to calm down,” her father continued, “and so do you.”
“I’m calm,” Twilight said, too quickly.
It wasn’t until Night Light wrapped his hooves around her that she realised she was shaking. “No, you’re not,” he said. His tone wasn’t accusatory, though; there was nothing but reassurance in his words. It was okay not to be, it said. He understood, it said, and he was the only pony who ever could. Night Light leaned closer, pulling her tighter against him with an affectionate sigh. “And I’m not either.”
His muzzle brushed against hers, and then they were kissing, and his lips were warm and soft and safe. She pulled away anyway. She pulled away no matter how much she hated to, no matter how much she wanted to just lose herself in him.
“We shouldn’t,” Twilight murmured, still nuzzling against his neck. “Not now.”
“We never should have,” Night Light replied, and then he kissed her again anyway.
And oh goddess it was good to have this again. They were together and his hooves held her close and he was so hot she melted against him. His fur smelled like home, of tea and candle-smoke, and if Shining’s words had done anything to suggest that this was wrong their work was undone in an instant. Night Light was her father, but he was also her lover, and right now she needed him to be both.
And then he was pushing her back against the wall as the kiss became more forceful, more demanding. His hooves were all over her, exploring, caressing, squeezing, rolling through her fur. Twilight could feel his excitement in their movements, in the way they desperately clutched against her, pulling her ever closer.
It was almost too much, in some ways. Twilight just wanted to be held, to settle in his hooves for a time, to nuzzle into his fur and stay there as long as she could. For him to stroke her mane, or rest his head against hers. But she couldn’t deny the warmth that began to spread through her under his ministrations. She pushed him away again; just for a second. “Wait,” she spluttered. “Wait a moment.” The dull ache immediately returned to her head as her horn lit up, but she ignored it. Night Light began to nuzzle against her neck impatiently, the touch of his lips on her skin making it even harder to concentrate than the pressing need between her legs already was. She muttered under her breath, and then her horn flared and a burst of magic wrapped itself around the doorframe, sinking into the wood without a trace. No one could tell the difference at a glance, but the door wouldn’t open until Twilight removed her spell. No more accidents.
With that done, Twilight could let herself fully appreciate Night Light’s attentions, shivering at every stroke against the inside of her thigh as his hooves grew more adventurous. She was almost upright now, only her hindlegs still touching the floor, her father’s weight holding her against the wall as he lifted himself up too. Night Light planted a hoof beside her head for balance, and Twilight would have missed its gentle touches were it not for the hot, insistent hardness that now pressed into her stomach. He nickered softly at the sensation of her fur against him, and Twilight couldn’t help but smile, pressing herself even more tightly to him and giving him even more reason to buck his hips.
Night Light’s wandering hoof’s grip on her ass tightened, sliding her upwards. His already needy kisses and nuzzles grew even more attentive and aggressive as she felt his hips buck up against her, his length pressing against her wet folds and making her shudder and gasp. But despite his eagerness, and likely because of it, his efforts were largely fruitless, succeeding only in running himself against her marehood and unwittingly teasing the both of them even further. When Twilight squirmed her father almost lost his grip on her, and she locked her hindlegs around his waist, wrapping herself completely around him, her forehooves already around his neck.
That was all the leverage he needed. He hefted her up a little more, and then he was thrusting forwards, and this time he slid deeply into her and she let out a quiet cry of finally fulfilled desire. He kept himself there for a moment, hilted inside her, breathing heavily, gathering himself. Held up as she was there was little Twilight could do except roll her hips against his and eke out what little satisfaction she could, urging him to rut her like he was supposed to.
She rested her head on Night Light’s shoulder and whispered into his ear. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”
But he did. Perhaps he still wasn’t quite ready, perhaps he just wanted to make her wait, to make her so impatient and wet and excited, giving only the slightest movement as his length twitched inside her. He was as ready as she was, what was he waiting for?
Twilight groaned in quiet frustration as he pressed against a particularly sensitive spot inside of her. This was unbearable, it was torturous, it was amazing. Her entire body burned with lust, and as he teased her and denied her it only made her skin ever warmer, more and more sensitive to each and every touch and slightest movement. She was entirely at her father’s mercy, and yet he still held himself back, as if to see just how far he could push Twilight before finally grabbing her hips and thrusting forwards roughly and making her scream in delight. Oh she wanted that, she wanted that so badly it hurt.
“Please,” she tried again. “I need you, now.”
Night Light’s breath caught at her words; the slightest hitch in his otherwise indomitable performance. Because of course that’s what this was – an act, a show, but one for both of their benefit. Foreplay for Night Light as much as Twilight. She could see how much he wanted her in his eyes, how he gazed at her with such intensity and need. She didn’t know how he could hold himself back anymore. She wouldn’t have been able to.
“Say it again,” he breathed.
“I need you,” she repeated without hesitation, and even just her words made his stallionhood give another excited jolt inside her.
“Once more,” he said, at long last beginning to move and give Twilight what she yearned so much for. And even though it was still restrained, she could tell he was just about to give in, his lust finally about spill over. She was more than happy to give him the last push he needed.
“I need you,” she whispered for the last time, and that was all it took.
With a low, deep growl, Night Light seized her with newfound vigour and pulled her down onto him, thrusting into her deeply at the same time, at last starting to fuck her like she’d begged him to. It wasn’t just pillow talk – she did need him, need this, and as he took her against the wall she couldn’t help but smile.
Shining didn’t seem so important anymore. Even he couldn’t taint this, make this any less perfect, Night Light’s thrusts eager and strong and each filled with an intensity that made her gasp and quiver against the wall. Her brother was cast from her mind without a glimmer of doubt that anything about this could be wrong.
Or at least, that’s what Twilight wanted to happen. It was what she was sure should have happened – simply being with Night Light enough to make her forget – but it was a lie.
Even as her father grunted and rutted her the way she dreamed he would, even as her body tingled and shuddered and made her grit her teeth to keep herself from crying out, it wasn’t enough. Her mane was slick with sweat, and Night Light’s body was pressed so tightly to her as she clutched herself against him, and it was almost unbearably hot and passionate and wonderful and all she could see was Shining’s face twisted in anger and hurt.
She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. She just wanted this, the impassioned gasps in between long and lustful kisses that only ended because they both had to breathe. She wanted the feel of Night Light’s chest against her now, broad and powerful, pressing her roughly against the wall each time he thrust himself oh so deeply into her. And she wanted that, too. His stallionhood, long and thick and so hard all because of her, twitching and throbbing every time he filled her. But most of all, she wanted Night Light. Most of all she wanted to do this with the pony she’d fallen in love with.
And how could she ever make Shining understand that? How could she make anyone understand that, to her, it didn’t matter that Night Light was her father. Or it did, but not in the way they’d expect. It mattered because she knew he’d do anything for her, to keep her safe, and even as he fucked her hard against the wall she felt so secure and happy encircled in his hooves.
Three months ago, Twilight couldn’t have understood it either.
Her father gasped suddenly, clutching her mane. Twilight kept her hindlegs wrapped around his waist, giving him only the slightest freedom to pull out of her as he gave a couple more erratic bucks and then buried himself as deeply inside her as he could as he came. He held her there for a minute or so, panting heavily against her neck as Twilight hugged him. And when he did pull away, letting Twilight gently down onto shaking hooves, it was with a sigh of resignation. It seemed as though he was as reluctant for it to end as she was, but they had already taken all the time they could. The windows were dark, and even though the moon hadn’t yet started to show itself, they’d definitely spent too much time lost in each other.
Night Light gave her a soft, tender kiss, and although the lustful passion wasn’t there anymore, Twilight could tell it held as much love for her as always, and even as he pulled away Twilight fancied she could still feel his lips against hers.
“You have to talk to Shining,” he said. “I know it’s not fair, and I’d go with you if I thought for a moment it would help. But it has to be just you.”
“No, it’s okay,” Twilight replied, dispelling her shield on the door and neatening her mane with her magic (all while subtly cleaning somewhere that needed it even more). Her head still ached when she lit her horn, but Twilight was thankful it had already subsided from earlier. She’d had a small, niggling fear the damage might have been permanent. “I get it.”
He kissed her again, on the forehead this time. “I know you do. And I know you can get Shining to come around.”
That part Twilight wasn’t so sure about, but she had to try.
Her father’s tone grew more serious. “Do you think you can find him again?”
She shrugged. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether or not he wants me to.”
***
Twilight sat down. Shining didn’t look up, though he must have heard her come in. He must have heard her pull the chair back and sink into it, but he kept staring intently at the chessboard, as if he could move the pieces simply by thinking about it hard enough. Twilight doubted he was even looking at the board, not really.
“Do you want to play?” she asked. It was stupid, of course, but it was something.
“No.” But he kept staring at the pieces.
He wanted to talk to her, she knew that much. There was no other reason he would have come to the games room unless he was waiting for her to find him. The moon was up now, peeking over the trees just enough to shine pale slivers through the window onto the chess set in front of them. Other than that, they were sitting together in the dark.
“How did you convince Mom and Cadance to let you come back on your own?” he asked.
Another meaningless question, from him this time. But at least it was getting closer to what mattered.
“Oh, I… I teleported.”
And at last that got a reaction out of him. He snapped upright so quickly that Twilight heard his neck click. “You teleported? From Haystead?”
She nodded, and Shining made a strange, half-strangled noise in his throat.
“How could you be so stupid, Twilight? You could have killed yourself.”
“I was scared! I’d just found out you sent us all away to be alone with Night Light, and I was worried you’d-”
“Worried I’d what?” he snapped. “He’s my Dad too, I wasn’t going to hurt him.”
“You hit him.”
“And he deserved every bit of it. He’s not worth putting yourself in danger like that for.” Shining reached over and took her hooves in his own. “Twily, you know I’m only angry because I care about you.”
There it was again. Because I care about you. Her father had said that was Shining’s motive too, but Twilight wasn’t so sure. Nothing her brother had done suggested that was the case, and his anger only pushed her further and further away. If he cared, he’d give her support, not accusations. He wouldn’t abandon her now. “I don’t think you do. You don’t get to pretend to care only when it suits you.”
“Twilight…”
“And even if you did, you just want to blame Dad for all of this.”
“Of course I do. Whatever you say, relationships work both ways, and he should know better.”
Twilight pulled her hooves away. “And I shouldn’t? I’m not a foal anymore.”
“No, but…” Shining leaned closer. “When have you ever had a serious relationship before?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I just mean that you might be a bit immature when it comes to this kind of thing. You think you’re in love, but if this is your first time then-”
“You never had a serious relationship before Cadance,” Twilight interrupted. She was the one getting angry now – how dare Shining suggest that what she had with Night Light was anything less than it was?
“That’s different,” he said.
“Saying that doesn’t make it true. You’re just telling me what you want to believe, and hoping that’ll make it real.”
“Cadance wasn’t married. She was only a couple of years older than me, too.”
“She was still older,” said Twilight. “She was a Princess. She was our babysitter. Shouldn’t she have known better?”
Shining didn’t reply right away. “What about Mom?” he asked, eventually. “Doesn’t she matter to you at all? Don’t you even care a little bit about her?”
“Did you know she cheated on Dad?” Twilight had almost been waiting to say that. She’d known he was going to ask about Mom at some point, and was already expecting and slightly looking forward to the inevitable look of surprise he’d give her, maybe even some stammering denial or more angry yelling.
Shining didn’t even blink.
“Yes,” he said. “She told me.”
And so it was Twilight who ended up speechless.
“She wanted to tell you too,” he continued, “but she was so worried about you. Mom didn’t want to put any more stress on you until you’d sorted out whatever was wrong.”
“So why are you so quick to defend her?” asked Twilight, with more bitterness than she thought she meant.
“Because she made a mistake,” said Shining, “and she’s trying to fix it with everything she can. And now I know she’s fighting a losing battle, and if I tell her why I don’t know what she’ll do.”
“So you think it’s my fault they’re falling apart? I heard them arguing, how angry they were. Do you really think Dad could forgive her if he didn’t have me?”
Shining flinched at that last question, but he quickly composed himself. “I have to. I have to believe it’s something that can be forgiven, or how else is Cadance ever supposed to forgive me?”
That took a moment to sink in. Surely he wasn’t saying what she thought he was. Her brother loved Cadance more than anything, there was no way he could have slept with someone else. “You didn’t-?”
“You know I did,” he said, interrupting her before she’d barely started the question. Shining sunk back in his chair and sighed. “She looked just like Cadance. Acted like her, even used my memories of Cadance to become her completely. Chrysalis fooled everyone, including the one pony who definitely should have seen it.”
Oh. Of course.
“That’s not the same at all,” said Twilight.
“Saying that doesn’t make it true, right?” he replied, with a sad smile.
“She hypnotised you.”
“I still slept with someone else. Hell, a different species. If it’s unforgivable, then I lose her.”
Twilight still wasn’t convinced. “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t mean Dad will ever forgive Mom. It doesn’t even mean he should.”
Shining laughed, and the sound was like splitting wood. “If he ever had any moral high ground, he doesn’t anymore. And either way, we’ll never know for sure as long as you two are fucking. You’re not giving him a reason to try.”
Twilight crinkled her muzzle at her brother’s crude language. It wasn’t exactly wrong, but the dismissive note in it made her suspect that her brother had simply replaced his anger with derision. It wasn’t an improvement. “Don’t call it that.”
“It is what it is, no matter how much you want to dress it up.” Shining shook his head, watching her with a kind of sickened bemusement. “What happened to you, Twily? I still remember when you used to run into my room at night, crying because you’d had a bad dream that science was wrong.”
“I grew up.”
“Did you?” His gaze hardened. “Forget it, here’s where we stand. You don’t want me to tell Mom, and I don’t want to be the one who does that to her. But I’m not going to cover for you two while you run around behind her back either. This ends now.”
Twilight winced. She’d seen this coming. She’d hoped against hope he wouldn’t ask that, wouldn’t make her do this, but she’d known the conversation would end like this right from the start.
“You can’t ask me to do that,” she said.
“I can and I did. And I mean it.”
“What if-”
“No what if’s, no buts, no anything. I’m not budging on this. It’s already more than you deserve.”
His words stung. They were cold and sharp, biting into her. Her brother had never spoken to her like that before, and it hurt.
“Do you hate me?” she asked, quietly.
He took a long time to answer. “No. But I feel like I should.”
Twilight felt her breath run out of her without meaning to let it go. There was no going back anymore. Her brother would always look at her and see the mare beneath her father, moaning lustfully. He’d see the mare who spotted him hiding behind the door and gasped; the purest admission of guilt. He’d see the mare who tearfully shouted that she loved Night Light with everything she had, and meant it. And he would hate her for it, no matter what he said.
“I need an answer, Twilight,” Shining muttered. His voice was cracking around the edges, and despite his still-lingering anger he was on the brink of tears of his own.
And what else could she say?
“Okay,” she whispered.
Shining nodded. “Promise me. I’ll know if you lie.”
She looked up at him, really looking for the first time. Shining’s blue mane was lifeless and messy, his eyes sunken, surrounded by dark rings and filled with a terrible, empty anticipation. Twilight could see how much this meant to him, how hard it was going to be for him to keep this to himself. And she saw that he meant everything he said. If she didn’t promise, right here and now, he’d tell Velvet as soon as she could. And he’d know if she was lying. He always did.
She didn’t have a choice.
“I promise,” said Twilight, her voice trembling as badly as her hooves. “It’s over.”