//------------------------------// // XVI. To Love at all is to be Vulnerable // Story: Ageless, or Celestia Plays Dice With the Universe // by Cynewulf //------------------------------// Ponies were complex. Twilight had accepted this in much the same way she had accepted Pinkie’s strangeness and her premonitions of disaster--by beating her head against the unknowable until she was too dizzy to continue and then conceding in frustration. The world was a big place and it was getting bigger and brighter all the time. Also stranger. That wasn’t to say that Twilight had just given up her dogged pursuit of truth. Far from it--because the more and more she found her orderly world vision shaken up, the more she found value and deeper fulfilment in her study. A world that was simply a machine could only hold the attention for so long. A world that was a mystery, on the other hand? What more could a true scholar, a true scientist, a true mage ask for beyond a world ripe for the brightening light of study? She thought about it a lot these days. Until recently, her observations of ponies had mostly been external--watching other ponies, talking to other ponies, taking mental notes on observed behavior. Only after the wings showed up had she really considered turning the lamp of discovery on herself. It was a slow process. It took dedication and a certain degree of fortitude--not simply to endure what was uncovered but to actually face it. Even the good things needed a bit of will to wrestle with--and she was learning to love it step by step. It felt as if every discovery meant more now that it was hard-won, like planting an outpost in hostile wilds. So, it was both frustrating and delightful that the best Twilight could do was conclude that ponies were complex. She didn’t understand them and she didn’t quite understand herself half the time. But it was nice to have the opportunity to understand. None of this went through her mind as she lay still, breathing as quietly as she could. It was in the background, informing the warring emotions within her, but what actually passed through her mind was much simpler. I’m still in Celestia’s bed. And we both-- Twilight proceeded to quietly panic. Most ponies would be surprised to learn she was capable of this, but when you spent most of your life in out of libraries, quiet panic was actually an essential life skill. In fact, Twilight’s more noisy panic was actually rather pleasant, and an indulgence that her friends would probably never understand. Except Pinkie, who could at least appreciate the joy of noise. Pinkie in fact commented that this was, to an extent, the case, and that also Twilight should just move already. The fact that she did this from within Twilight’s head was slightly concerning. Or, it was, after Twilight had realized that she was no longer alone in her own mind and had doubled her still very considerate, quiet panic. There were others, presently. She was aware of them, and yet didn’t… hear them? It felt as if, one by one, ponies had slid into bed around her, and yet they brought with them no sensation of touch, no bodily warmth. She felt surrounded, a bit crowded, even with the comfortable distance between herself and Celestia. All of it was overwhelming. Twilight could hardly think with all of them talking over each other. Within her, her six closest friends talked among themselves in a flurry, but one presence was quiet. The Archmage--no, what had Celestia called her? The Faithful Student. She did not join their conversation. Twilight imagined them all huddled together, whispering excitedly, while the Student looked on, not exactly hostile but feeling out of sorts. Until Pinkie pulled her into their little circle, inviting her to share the excitement. There was plenty to be excited for, after all. The Court’s first day with Twilight. Also, the whole being-in-bed-with-Celestia thing. Which Twilight realized was still a part of her reality and which she was about to embark upon a third round of panic before their collective voices calmed her. They spoke with a unified voice, then. It was okay--this, they were saying, is okay. It was good, and today was a good day. I don’t know how to handle so many of you, Twilight thought. Even with her eyes squeezed shut and her body still, she had found their presence so heavy. Will it always be so disorienting? No, they promised. It would not be. She would learn to live as the others did, and they would teach her. Step by step, until at last she walked without hesitation, they would show her how to live in a new way. Applejack, there to aid her discernment, Rarity to fortify her in her confusion. Rainbow and Pinkie to pull her back from her worry. Fluttershy to keep the hearth of her spirit warm. Spike to keep her on task. The dizziness would fade. That was their promise, until only Fluttershy was speaking--could she call it speaking?--in her head. Fluttershy hummed and spoke, alternating her delivery but delivering the same message: wake up, Twilight, and open your eyes. Celestia is awake. Twilight felt a momentary dismay at that. She wasn’t ready! But the Inner Court’s Fluttershy chased the feeling away. The roar of the Inner Court stirred a bit as she opened her eyes. The sun was slowly peeking into it’s shepherd’s chambers, casting everything in the warm, red half-light of dawn. Celestia’s room was ornate, but not in the way one would expect of a ruler of her stature. It was ornate in that she had chosen to surround her bed with beautiful things, useful things that wore their beauty easily and almost carelessly. The paintings on the far wall were of quiet, pastoral scenes, not unlike Ponyville’s sights. But she did not catalogue the rest. Instead, her attention was drawn by movement beside her. Twilight dared to look. Celestia had turned over. Their eyes met. Twilight was sure the surprise on Celestia’s face was mirrored in her own. “Um. Hi,” Twilight blurted, because that seemed like the best thing to do. Celestia stared for a second, and Twilight squirmed under her gaze. Then she shook with mirth as she hid her giggles from Twilight with a hoof. “Hello, Twilight,” she said when the laughter had worn off and a red-faced Twilight had re-emerged from the blankets. “I’m glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?” Twilight pursed her lips. “Confused. It’s like… being stuffed into a crowded carriage. We’re all going the same direction, but it’s harder to think.” Celestia nodded. She moved her hoof closer, and then seemed to hesitate. “We… we should probably talk about this,” Celestia said after both of them had looked at that hoof for a moment. “This being you and I. In my bed, no less.” “It’s weird.” “Exceedingly so, yes.” Twilight took a deep breath, and felt strangely. Applejack was on one side and Rarity on the other. Honesty, said the first; be open, said the second. So she did both. “I love you,” Twilight said. “I think I have for awhile. I stopped thinking of it that way because I didn’t think I had a shot, I guess. The idea that you might reciprocate that feeling was so good that it felt unrealistic.” “Do you feel that way now?” “Mostly, I’m trying to figure out if I’m still dreaming,” Twilight said with an attempt at a smile that fell flat. Impulse took her, and she reached out to touch Celestia’s hoof with her own. They stayed that way. Celestia smiled. Twilight thought her smile was like the sun. The Inner Court was divided on whether or not this sentiment was silly or not. The Faithful Student in general was not a fan of simile. “I assure you that this is no dream.” She bit her lip, as if putting words in order. Was her court commenting? Had they always been considering her? “But it is as nice as one,” Celestia said at last. “Twilight, I have never had my sister’s unrestrained energy. But we do share a romantic streak, so you may imagine that this is perhaps not how I had imagined things playing out when I said that I love you.” Twilight’s breath caught. She wanted to say something. She wanted to hear her say those words over and over. “You do?” “Yes,” Celestia said. “I love you. And, as absurd as it is to ask this from my own bed, I would like to court you officially.” “Officially?” Twilight quailed. What did that mean? Court? She had no idea what that entailed, and officially? She had sudden visions of stoic press conferences. Celestia raised an eyebrow and put on a smirk. “So you would prefer that I merely be your paramour? Twilight, I’m not sure if I’m appalled or impressed at your audacity.” Twilight flushed. “No, I didn’t mean… ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “I kind of understand dating. It works the same, right? Or… like, I don’t know. Are we marefriends now?” Celestia was trying not to laugh. It was obvious on her face. Twilight wasn’t sure if that irked her or delighted her. The Court murmured and again found itself more or less split down the middle. “Well, nopony has asked to court me yet, so--” “Will you go out with me?” Twilight said it quickly, almost all as one word. Celestia giggled. “There, that wasn’t so hard.” Then she sighed. “Of course, I’m saying that to myself as much as you. Yes. Yes, I will, Twilight.” Twilight beamed. Also she forgot to breathe for a few seconds, but that was inconsequential. “Courting is a bit different from what you’ve seen, I’m sure,” Celestia continued. “Though I daresay it shall be a bit more your, ah, speed.” Another little titter. “I’m an old fashioned nag, really. Remember that.” “I’ll try,” Twilight said, breathless. “I’m really not sure what to do now.” And she wasn’t. It had not, in all of her joyful rereading of letters and writing of the same, every occurred to her that this would happen outside of dreams. The court urged a half dozen courses of action, but they kept their voices to whispers within her mind. Her own thoughts still held the field--and most of them were frazzled and concerning Celestia being beautiful and how nice it might be to scoot a little closer. Celestia smiled. “Breakfast might be a good place to start. The castle staff will have pancakes on hand, just for you. Mead is quite excited. He’s been talking about your visit all week.” Twilight smiled, distracted for a moment. “Mead! Oh, wow… I still remember my first morning here. I called crepes--” “Creepies,” Celestia said, and they laughed. Twilight, lifted by that sound, moved a little closer. “I, um. It’s a bit early for breakfast. I was thinking--” Celestia cocked an eyebrow at her. “Moving fast? More and more surprises, Madame Sparkle.” Twilight shook her head, knowing her face was red. “No! Just… just thought I could, um.” She sighed. “Ugh. Talking is hard.” “Sometimes, yes.” “It’s kind of awkward to be all the way over here. I wanted to know if I could get closer. I thought it, um, might be nice if we were a bit closer.” Celestia smiled and Twilight suddenly found herself being pulled into an embrace. She froze, but when the warmth was all around her she found herself relaxing against Celestia. She was soft--she always had been. Twilight nuzzled under her chin and sighed happily. Celestia hummed. “We have an hour before breakfast. You’ve had a long night. Would you like me to wake you when it’s time?” “Maybe.” Twilight’s voice was muffled against her teacher--no, she wasn’t that anymore, was she?--against Celestia’s coat. “So, courting?” “Mm. Well, I would of course expect you to come calling from time to time.” “I could do that.” “I’m sure your friend Rarity could help you make yourself presentable,” Celestia said as she began to softly stroke the part of Twilight’s back between her wings, drawing out a little happy groan. “And, of course, I would expect letters. Very important to the whole enterprise, letters.” “Can definitely do that.” “Perhaps, if you prove yourself a proper suitor, I’m sure my sister would consent to unsupervised walks in the gardens,” she said and snickered. “Though I am sure she will be merciless to you.” “Probably can’t handle that, but I’m sure I’ll try.” Celestia froze, suddenly, and then groaned. “Cadance will be unsufferable for decades.” Twilight laughed and nuzzled her neck. “Yes, but it won’t be so bad. Cadance is fun.” “She is an upstart,” groused the princess. “Who will torture me with how right she was with infinite smugness.” “You could always remind her that Spike was the one that saved the empire if she gets out of hand,” Twilight offered. “Oh, that’s delightfully evil. I’ll keep that under advisement.” “Happy to help.” They were silent after that for a time. Celestia continued to stroke her back. Twilight continued to nuzzle into her shoulder and neck, content. There would be words, here and there, but neither of them felt the need for conversation just yet. Let it wait. Beyond a few soft comments on Twilight’s attempt at preening--poor, but Celestia smugly offered her assistance down the line--and a few happy murmurs, there was nothing. Twilight carefully dislodged herself and looked up. Celestia’s eyes met her own. “Think they know already? Luna, at least? I mean, dreams are sort of her thing.” “Yes, much like composure is mine. I honestly don’t know. We’ll have to see.” “I just realized I’m going to have to tell my friends. Rarity is going to give birth to a calf in the middle of Ponyville.” Celestia chortled. “Oh, do break the momentous news carefully. That sounds unpleasant.” Twilight kept looking, her eyes tracing Celestia’s lips. Hesitantly, she reached up and then stopped halfway. Celestia made up the distance, and they kissed. It chased all of the thoughts out of Twilight’s head at once. She tasted of paradise. When they broke away, Celestia was radiant. “It’s a good start,” she said. “I can’t wait to see what you’re like in a few decades.” She laughed and then kissed Twilight again and again, until time seemed soft and malleable, as if Twilight could ignore it forever. And she would. Celestia was holding her, kissing her, never pushing too much but always pursuing. She felt hot but not unbearably so, caught but in a way she couldn’t help but find perfect. She found that she agreed. It was as good a start as any.