Disco Fever
The train ride to Canterlot was dead silent, though it had not died a natural death. Instead, the recently-crowned Princess Twilight Sparkle had brutally murdered it as a token revenge against the circumstances in which she found herself.
Opposite Twilight sat Rarity and Pinkie Pie. The two of them had come to an unspoken agreement, it seemed, to share the bench facing her for the single purpose of presenting a solid front against her. The chance to jointly bask in their ongoing victory was merely an added bonus. Their smug grins had not abated in the hours it had taken her to pack, travel to the train station, purchase a ticket, and board. By Twilight’s estimation, their faces had been straining for nearly eight hours. As the two of them had refused to leave her side since that morning in fear that she would flee, she had confidence in its accuracy.
“Oh, come now, Twilight. A lady shouldn’t pout.” Rarity’s gentle scold did nothing to better Twilight’s mood, and she continued to silently glare out the window at the passing scenery. It was her hope that–if she could only concentrate hard enough–she could force herself to wake up from the ongoing nightmare that her life had become. At the very least, she hoped to will her two ‘friends’ to forget the drunken promise she had made almost a year before. Said vow was the source of her predicament.
“Yeah, Twi. You should be happy! After all, thanks to us you’re finally gonna get your Princess.” Pinkie’s enthusiasm was contagious, but the warring clouds of panic and anger that were swirling through Twilight’s mind and stomach proved themselves to be an effective vaccine.
“I can’t believe you girls are making me do this.” At Twilight’s first words since being forced on the crazy adventure up the Canterhorn, Rarity and Pinkie shared a conspiratorial grin. Those, too, had long worn on Twilight’s nerves, but she had no outlet to vent her frustration. It wasn’t as if she could simply yell at them to stop smiling so much. Were she to try, she had no doubts whatsoever that it would have only the opposite effect.
“You know, darling, I think you simply have the wrong attitude regarding this whole affair. It isn’t as if we’re forcing you to do something you don’t want to do.” The confidence Rarity held in her words was what finally drew Twilight out of her brooding, and she stared at her friends in disbelieving outrage.
“Yes! That is exactly what you’re doing! I don’t want to do this!” Twilight’s hooves waved through the air like angry snakes, eager to reach out and sink their fangs into her traitorous friends. In the midst of her wild gesturing, Twilight’s wings elected –seemingly of their own free will– to join in the display. Their sudden extension threw Twilight off balance and tossed her to the floor.
Rarity peered down at her from her seat, a touch of sympathy in her eyes. “Don’t you?”
Twilight stopped her flustered attempt to untangle herself from her wings. Despite weeks of her best efforts to force their obedience, they continued to treat her commands as mere suggestions.
“Well, yeah,” Pinkie added, as if she thought it obvious. “I mean, nopony made you make a Pinkie Promise. That was all you, sister.”
“It… it was?” Hazy clouds of memory floated through Twilight’s mind, fleeting and intangible as the wind. She tried once again to recall the previous Hearts and Hooves Day. More importantly, she tried to remember that evening, which she had spent celebrating with the girls. As they had all lacked special someponies, for one reason or another, they had decided to throw their own private party.
Whoever had opened the first bottle of wine was a fact lost to history. If Twilight ever managed to remember who it was, she was determined to throttle them. Even if it turned out to be herself. Especially if it turned out to be herself.
Regardless, among the flurry of party games and conversations that had ensued during the night, at some point Twilight had apparently done something incredibly, incredibly stupid.
She had promised to confess the crush she harbored for Princess Celestia. More importantly, she had Pinkie Promised, and it was common knowledge in Ponyville that nopony ever breaks a Pinkie Promise.
Or, rather, that was what she had been told she had done, based on the many retellings she had heard. For her, the night was only a fast-paced blur of pin-the-tail-on-the-floor. However, even in her deeply inebriated state, Twilight had seen fit to give herself an out. At the time, it had made fulfilling the promise seem as likely as Fluttershy turning into a vampony.
She had added the condition that, were she to gain wings and become an alicorn, only then would she confess to her mentor and secret love. In the months that had followed Hearts and Hooves Day, not only had she ascended to become a living avatar of the three pony races, but her sarcastic prediction about Fluttershy had also come to pass. It had given her reason to put ‘examine precognition-inducing properties of alcohol’ on the to-do list. Right below ‘flee’ and ‘hide from Pinkie forever.’
Twilight's brief flight had ended with her cornered in her bedroom by Rarity and Pinkie Pie, and shortly thereafter being discovered hiding under her bed. After that, it hadn’t taken her two friends long to force her –with smiles on their faces– to begin packing her bag.
“Yeppers! You seemed pretty excited about it, too.” Pinkie schooled her excitement for a moment and crafted herself into a respectable imitation of a drunken, slurring Twilight. “’Gonna be a Princess, get me somma dat Princess luvin’.’”
Twilight blushed, and even Rarity looked away to cough delicately into her hoof, her ivory cheeks aflame. “You were… quite insistent on that last bit, darling.”
Heedless of Rarity’s obvious embarrassment, Pinkie nodded rapidly. “Oh yeah. You had diagrams and everything! There was even one of Princess Celestia’s v–” Rarity’s hoof forced itself into Pinkie’s mouth midsentence. Her sharp reflexes spared Twilight’s fragile peace of mind, not to mention Rarity’s own sense of decorum.
“That is quite enough, Pinkie,” Rarity said, and only after she was sure that Pinkie would not finish her sentence did she remove her hoof.
Twilight–whose blush had blossomed forth to steal blood from her vital organs–stared with pupils shrunk to pinpricks. “I made those?” She had found several large posters the morning after the party when cleaning up, all of which were unspeakably detailed. It had been her desperate hope at the time that they had simply been an elaborate prank by one or more of her friends, and she had burned them the moment she found them. Or soon after, at least. Before the day was over. By the clock’s reckoning if not the sun’s.
Once the train conductor had passed by their cabin and inspected Rarity’s and Pinkie’s tickets(and Twilight’s crown, which granted her free passage on any Equestrian train), the trio were left in peace. With no disturbances remaining until their arrival in Canterlot, Rarity and Pinkie abruptly settled down to business.
“Now, Twilight, I’ve come up with a plan that will allow you the perfect opportunity to make your confession to Princess Celestia.” From the overhead compartment, Rarity levitated out a small violet bag monogrammed with a stylized white R. The zipper slid back, revealing four tickets. Twilight plucked them from Rarity’s purse with her magic and pulled them closer for inspection.
“You have a plan for this?” She examined the tickets, each of which were stamped across their width with the golden letters ‘VIP.’ With her horn, she could feel the quiet hum of anti-counterfeiting charms. Such things rarely came cheap, and were normally reserved for things like official documents and royal dispatches. To see even simple charms used on mere tickets was an oddity indeed.
Rarity flicked her mane and huffed. “Well of course, darling. You didn’t expect to simply blurt out your undying love for the Princess in the middle of court, did you?” By Twilight’s silence, Rarity surmised that had in fact been Twilight’s assumption. She rubbed her forehead with a hoof. “This may be more difficult than I had feared.”
“Aw, what’s the matter with that plan?” Pinkie’s pleading served only to earn her a light glare from Rarity.
“Pinkie Pie, matters like these must be handled very delicately. It wouldn’t do for Twilight to announce her feelings so publicly, as it would do nothing but put the Princess on the spot.” Rarity’s straightened herself to a proper posture and pointed to Twilight as a schoolteacher would a blackboard. “We want to allow no outside influence to affect the Princess’s feelings, for if they are not hers and hers alone, they are nothing but platitudes.”
“And what exactly do you call this?” Twilight asked, gesturing between herself and her friends.
“Why, we are merely enabling you to overcome your own fears, darling.” Twilight thought that perhaps it was only in her mind, but Rarity’s smile seemed to show far too many teeth. “Think of us as your courage given shape.”
Abruptly, the train was shaken by a large bump that marked its transition between rails. The train began to travel up a noticeable incline, and the passengers on board leaned back in their seats. It was the signal that they had reached the base of the Canterhorn, and less than twenty minutes remained before they would reach the Canterlot train station.
Twilight leaned against the window and peered up the steep slope of the mountain with a trepidation she had never felt before. In her stomach, butterflies began to stir themselves into a tempest. She wished she had thought to invite Fluttershy to calm them down. Preferably before she ejected her breakfast. “So what exactly is your plan?”
“A party!” Pinkie’s announcement came before Rarity could begin to frame the first syllable of her reply. Twilight was momentarily distracted from the looming cliff sides, and raised her eyebrow.
“A party? Seriously?”
When Pinkie’s nods provided no real answers, Twilight glanced at Rarity, only to find her nodding as well.
“Actually, it is a party.” Rarity leaned forward and motioned towards the tickets, which had fallen onto the seat beside Twilight when the train had begun its chugging ascent. “I acquired four VIP tickets to a new dancing establishment that is having its grand opening this evening.”
It took Twilight several moments to decode Rarity's obtuse high-society euphemisms. “A nightclub? You want me to take the Princess to a nightclub?”
Rarity had the grace to appear only mildly offended. “Certainly not. Goodness, Twilight. The thought of taking two Princesses to something so disreputable as a nightclub.”
The reminder that she, too, was a Princess struck Twilight as more than a bit odd. On one hoof, it highlighted the implausibility of her situation and the literally astronomical odds that had been required for it to occur.
On the other hoof, being placed in the same category as the Prin–as Princess Celestia–was a strangely appealing thought. It served to fan the cold, flickering ember of hope that was burning away beneath the suffocating blanket of fear within her.
For once unaware of the full impact her words had wrought, Rarity continued her explanation. “No, darling, The Chevalier is to be the most grand dance hall in all of Equestria.”
“Does it have a disco ball?” Pinkie asked innocently. The glare it earned her was in no way as softened as the one before it had been, though it was equally ineffective.
Twilight ventured forward to draw the conversation back on track, as well as to spare Rarity a possible aneurysm. “So we attend the grand opening. What then?”
Rarity paused for a moment to regain her composure. “Well, Pinkie and I will of course remain nearby to provide moral support and ensure that the two of you aren’t interrupted, but to be frank? At that point, darling, it shall be up to you.”
As the city wall of Canterlot passed by outside the train’s window and the high pitched squeal of brakes pierced the air, Twilight gulped.
The walk from the train station to the palace passed by Twilight in a blur. Normally, the trek through the city could take as long as half an hour–depending on the time of day and how many ponies were out and about. For Twilight, it seemed to take only seconds. Before she knew it, she and her friends were passing through the palace gates. Twilight was quick to wave away the formal bows of the gate guards.
The trio had hardly made it to the palace itself before a smooth, heavenly voice intercepted them. “Twilight, how lovely to see you.”
The three halted in place and looked up to see Princess Celestia walking down the palace stairs to meet them. Rarity and Pinkie bowed, and Twilight fidgeted in place. She was torn between running up and throwing herself into the tender, warm nuzzle she’d grown accustomed to, or offering a gracious, courtly nod of recognition. Fortunately for her, Celestia had no such reservations and eagerly leaned in to embrace her.
All of Twilight’s fears and insecurities melted away under the familiar comforting warmth of the Princess, and she curled her neck up to meet Celestia’s. The two held their contact for a brief, sweet, perfect moment. Twilight relished every second, content to swim in the welcoming hearth that was Celestia’s presence for as long as she could. The previously unnoticed cold of absence was scattered to the furthest winds, taking with it Twilight’s fear and insecurities. For so long as white fur meshed with purple, the world wasn’t such a scary place.
But just as every hardship must end, so must every boon. Before either would have wished it, the two separated and Twilight’s friends rose from their bows.
“My, those wings do certainly suit you, Twilight.” Celestia’s smile was radiant, and it left Twilight blushing and pawing at the ground. “I admit I am quite curious. What was so urgent that you wished to see me in person to speak of it?” Celestia’s tone was one of innocent curiosity, and its earnestness made Twilight’s chest seize.
She whirled on Rarity, only to find her friend saddled up closely against her side, tickets in hoof. “Actually, Your Highness, Twilight, Pinkie Pie, and I are attending the grand opening of The Chevalier this evening. Twilight suggested you might like to join us.”
With her heart spared from its bout of near-failure, Twilight found herself forced to give Rarity the credit she was due. Rarity’s play had been somewhat risky, as a mere unfortunate wording could have thrown it askew, but she had pulled it off flawlessly and left Twilight in an excellent starting position.
“Is that tonight?” Celestia asked, her brow furrowed. “I had hoped I might be able to attend, but I am afraid that I must resolve a dispute between the Ministries of Finance and the Interior. Some dreadful bridge business or another. I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you.”
Twilight was, in that moment, torn between a strange mix of relief and disappointment. She felt her wings sag and the tension leave her back, but her stomach sank with them. She glanced at Rarity and found, to her surprise, that she seemed completely unperturbed.
“My, that is a shame,” Rarity said. By her tone, one might have easily thought she was discussing the weather and not the dashing of her carefully laid plans. On Twilight’s other side, Pinkie Pie just failed to stifle a giggle.
Celestia failed to notice Rarity’s odd behavior, which was a forgivable mistake given the limited contact she had with her. Though on good terms with all of Twilight's friends, the only one with which Celestia could claim any true familiarity with was Twilight herself.
“I am sorry to disappoint you, Twilight. I hope that I will be able to make it up to you before you return to Ponyville.”
“That’s okay, Princess. I understand.” Twilight risked a peek at Rarity to gauge her friend’s reaction. Rarity said nothing, merely occupying herself by examining one of her hooves for dirt.
“Allow me to escort you to your rooms, then,” Celestia said, raising a hoof when Twilight opened her mouth to object. “No, it is the least I can do after having damaged your plans for the evening.”
By unspoken agreement, and perhaps a touch of intentional manipulation, the four mares fell into an amiable formation. Celestia and Twilight led side by side, with Rarity and Pinkie Pie trailing behind them. Walking through the labyrinthine corridors on their way to the private wing of the palace, Pinkie’s steady hopping ticked away their pace.
Twilight’s eyes danced to a chaotic rhythm, bouncing between Princess Celestia and her friends. Rarity and Pinkie, despite having suffered what seemed to be a complete upset of their plans, were quietly giggling to each other and shooting her furtive glances.
“Sister, I have found you at last!”
The four ponies halted their procession. Princess Luna, followed by a pair of her personal guards, breezed through the halls towards them.
“Luna? You're still awake?” Princess Celestia asked. Confusion was writ plainly across her face, and she glanced out a nearby window to see the sun well into a descent from its noonday summit.
“Indeed. In fact, I have only just dismissed my Night Court.” Princess Luna paused to stifle a yawn, and one of her guards edged forward to present her with a mug of steaming coffee. “I thank th—thank you, High Tide.”
“Majesty.” The guard gave a shallow bow, quickly returning to his Princess’ side. Luna drank deeply, and only when the mug was nearly drained did she lower it from her lips.
"Luna, it’s past noon. For what reason would you have allowed your court to drag on so?” Celestia’s question was heavily laced with the concern of an elder sister. Twilight looked around the hallway for a clock, but there were none in sight amidst the fine carpeting and many hung paintings and banners.
“We were making such progress towards resolving the Cowlumbia River Bridge dispute that I found it preferable to press on. I believe the modern parlance is ‘on a roll.’” Luna took a moment to finish off the last of the coffee. When she lowered the cup she revealed a proud, fatigued smile. “I am pleased to say the issue has been resolved.”
Celestia blinked, her eyebrows raising in surprise. “Truly? However did you convince the Ministers to work together?”
Luna’s grin turned secretive and sly. “Trade secret, dear sister. As the issue is resolved, and in light of our ponies' hard work, I have taken the liberty to dismiss both of our courts for the remainder of the week. I am to assume you have no objections?"
For a brief, undignified moment, Celestia’s mouth hung open, her voice having taken its leave with her courtiers. The slip in decorum was short lived, and Celestia recovered smoothly. “That’s amazing, sister. And you made sure the construction contracts were finalized?”
Luna froze, and, if it hadn’t been for her midnight coat, she would have turned paler than her sister. “...the what now?”
One could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. Luna had seized up, her body still as any of the statue garden’s inhabitants. Celestia, in a rare moment of exasperation, audibly smacked her forehead with a hoof. Rarity was staring daggers at Luna such that the two night guards closed ranks with their Princess. And Pinkie Pie was, of course, humming along to a tune only she could hear.
"Luna,” Celestia began, her voice measured, “Who do you think is going to build the bridge over the Cowlumbia River?”
Looking much like a student thrown to the mercy of a pop quiz, Luna hunched her neck low. “A Royal commission of labor?”
Celestia nodded. “Yes, Luna. But do you know who we commission to perform said labor?” Without giving Lunar the chance to answer, Celestia pressed forward. “Today, instead of merely hiring as many workers and craftponies as we need by the day, the Crown hires construction companies.”
Using her height to her full advantage, she glowered down at her sister. “Hiring construction companies means long, detailed contracts that ensure neither party involved is wronged. Those contracts mean time. And, as I’m sure you know, our treaty with Cowlumbia stipulated a date for Equestria to submit a completed proposal for the bridge project. And, thanks to our Ministers’ drawn out bickering, that date happens to be Monday.”
Each point was a hammer blow falling on Luna’s head. Celestia did not let up. “All of this together means that, thanks to you having sent home all of our staff and attendants, I now have four days to write a dozen detailed contracts. By myself.”
Luna rose at last, casting darting glances to Rarity. “F-fear not, sister. I shall take care of these as we—”
Luna’s no doubt heartfelt announcement was ruined by a yawn that nearly sent her to the floor. Celestia sighed again, rubbing her eyes with a hoof. “Luna, you are far too exhausted to help. Even if you weren’t, as well as you’ve acclimated since your return, your legal knowledge is still a thousand years out of date. The time when our mere word was law is over.” The last bit was surprisingly bitter, and Twilight failed to miss Celestia glance her way.
Defeated, Luna’s head sank. “I...I am sorry, sister. I only wished to help.”
The sight of her sister’s crushed spirits proved too much for Celestia’s agitated temper. Withers sagging, Celestia intertwined her neck with Luna’s. “I know, Luna. I know you were trying to help. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”
Watching the sisters embrace, Rarity was audibly gritting her teeth. It was clear to Twilight that, whatever Rarity had planned, it had been thrown completely off track.
'This is our chance.’ A quiet, niggling voice whispered into Twilight’s ears. It sounded like her own, only twisted. Wrong, somehow. "Rarity’s plan is finished. All we have to do is keep quiet and we’re in the clear.”
Whatever sour feelings Twilight had for the voice, it raised a good point. If she stayed quiet, she would be released from her promise to confess. After all, she had gone along with Rarity and Pinkie’s plan, and it had all been undone through no fault of her own. If she kept her mouth shut, she could be back in Ponyville before nightfall.
Which was why none were more surprised than Twilight herself when she spoke up. “Princess Celestia?” she began, drawing confused looks all around. “I could help you write up the contracts.”
Luna and Rarity’s eyes widened, as did Pinkie’s grin. For her part, Celestia pulled herself free of Luna’s embrace. “You could?”
Rubbing one foreleg with another, Twilight nodded sheepishly. “I usually help Mayor Mare draft repair contracts when big disasters hit Ponyville, so I’ve had plenty of practice with contract law.” With her analytical mind committed, Twilight easily found more reasons to help. “Plus, I’m a Princess now, too. That means, if I help, it would cut the things requiring your signature in half immediately. That’s not to mention my penchant for—”
“Twilight,” Celestia said, interrupting her before she delved too deeply into the sea of justifications. “I appreciate the offer, but I couldn’t ask you to spend your weekend helping me. You should spend it with your friends.”
Twilight blinked. There was a short, bloody battle in her mind for control of her mouth. “Princess Celestia, there’s nopony in Equestria I’d rather spend my weekend with.” Twilight wasn’t quite sure which side had lost the fight, or even who the two opposing sides had been. But, when Princess Celestia blushed, Twilight was pretty sure she had been the winner.
Coughing to cover up her own blush, Twilight scrambled down her carefully crafted list of reasonings. “A-and, if I help, we would still have time to attend the grand opening tonight. If you still wanted to, that is.”
Wings ruffling at her side, Princess Celestia pulled Twilight in for a hug. “Thank you, Twilight.”
Her failure rectified, Luna waved a hoof in celebration. “Huzz-AH!” Her other hoof gave way, and only the quick intervention of High Tide kept her from falling muzzle-first into the floor.
Quickly eyeing her sister for injury, Celestis swooped in like a mother goose. “Luna, I believe it would be best if you retired for the day.”
The idea of protesting was clearly visible in Luna’s eyes, but it was quickly tossed aside in favor of leaning more heavily on her guard. "Very good.” Luna paused to smother another yawn. “If you will excuse me, the call to rest has become more than I can bare. Good morning, sister.”
With a carefully constructed nonchalance, Rarity peaked an eyebrow. “Why Princess, will you be joining us after all?”
Once her sister had disappeared from sight, she turned to the gathering of mares around her. “Yes, I suppose I will.” She stood for a moment, staring unseeing into the distance. When the moment became overly long and uncomfortable, Twilight gently nudged her with a wing.
“Princess? Are you alright?”
“I–" Celestia shook herself out of her trance. “Yes, Twilight. Of course. I apologize, but it has been… well, centuries since I have been able to enjoy a simple evening with friends.”
“Well now you’ve got double the Princesses to do the work!” Pinkie hopped up in excitement, only to stop herself in midair. She brought a hoof to her chin. “Actually, since Twilight’s a Princess now, too, that means it’s triple the Princessness. But wait! Do you count Princess Cadence? I mean, she was raised in Equestria, but she also rules over the Crystal Empire. Does that mean it’s actually three and a half Princessnesses? Or would it be–“ Rarity’s hoof, which was becoming uncomfortably familiar with Pinkie’s dental work, interrupted her before she could delve further into the complexities of royal mathematics.
“What Pinkie Pie is trying to say is that, now that Equestria has its full complement of Princesses, surely you will be able to expect a great deal more free time in your future. Isn’t that right, Pinkie?” Pinkie Pie bobbed her head excitedly, and for once had the decency to look abashed when Rarity yanked her slobbery hoof free.
Celestia watched their antics with a widening grin. “Yes, I suppose I will. I admit I hadn’t given it much thought until now.” When Celestia continued towards the private suites, it was with a noticeable bounce in her step.
The Chevalier was, as Rarity had described it, the most grand dance hall in all of Equestria. Moreover, it did indeed, as Pinkie had predicted, also have a disco ball. The combination was an odd one, and it reflected the hall’s general theme. Grand flying buttresses and elaborately chiseled marble columns were juxtaposed against batteries of colored spotlights and banks of sleek black speakers. If the Royal Canterlot Music Hall were to have a furious, blushing one-night dalliance with Club Cobalt, The Chevalier would have been the resulting foal.
While it could have easily resulted in a pandering failure –one too snobbish for the everyday pony and too plebeian for the upper class–The Chevalier trotted on the thin line between the two, enhancing its appeal for both groups. As a monument to the architectural chimera’s success, the line for the Grand Opening stretched not only around the block, but nearly to the city’s outer wall.
With their crowns and VIP tickets –whose mysterious origins were giving Twilight ever more reason to suspect the methods through which Rarity had obtained them– Celestia and Twilight’s friends were granted easy access through the guarded doors. Inside, they found themselves amidst a dense sea of ponies. The crowd ranged from nobility in expensively crafted bespoke suits and dresses to common ponies wearing nothing more than the occasional hat. It was a rare mix, but as the night continued and the festivities of the grand opening unveiled, it turned out to be a genial one.
A large complement of waitresses and a bar that stretched the width of the entry foyer ensured that everypony remained in good –if somewhat inebriated– spirits. The DJ kept up a well-balanced barrage of popular and classical music. Twilight thought she recognized the mare from her brother's wedding, and noted with some curiosity that she was not the same pony emblazoned across The Chevalier's advertising posters.
The dance floor took up the majority of The Chevalier’s sprawling main room, and was literally bursting with ponies of all tribes. The crowd fluctuated between elaborate slow dances that would not have been out of place in a cotillion and a mob of pulsating bodies only just short of a rave. Somehow, the transition between the two was seamless.
As luck would have it, the Princess’ entrance had coincided with the last few dying notes of an upbeat, energetic pop song. The final tones drifted away across The Chevalier’s marbled walls, and with them went the ponies who had danced themselves to exhaustion.
The light, airy tones of a Griffish harpsichord heralded a new stream of ponies, all better dressed than those they replaced. Evening jackets and cuff links replaced hooded sweatshirts and luminescent neck rings.
Celestia’s ears flickered. “Oh my. I haven’t heard this song in decades!” Celestia turned to Twilight, her sparkling eyes alight. “Twilight, will you dance with me?”
It could have been an innocent question. There was no telling how many times Celestia had asked the same of Twilight during their many years together. Even still, standing on the periphery of the dance floor with Celestia asking for them to step out together meant far more.
Twilight’s brain said ’Stop, think it through!’ and her mouth said, “I’d love to.” In traitorous collusion, Twilight’s body showed its true allegiance by reaching out to loop her foreleg through Celestia’s own.
The logical ravings of 'What am I doing?’ and 'Everypony is watching us!’ were drowned out by the smooth honey of Celestia’s excitement.
“I hope I remember how to do this. I never did quite grasp the finer points of Griffish skyland dancing.” The harpsichord was soon joined by the distinctive heavy thrumming of an iron lyre and Celestia planted a hoof and whirled about quickly. She lifted Twilight with a wing and carried her in the spin, only dropping her after a full pirouette.
Once more, Twilight’s inner and outer voices fell into sync. “P-Princess!” Twilight’s heart was racing at the sudden abduction, and she began to wonder what exactly she had agreed to.
Celestia leaned in close, their noses nearly touching. “Just follow my lead. I promise, once you start, you’ll never want to stop.”
The music was building quickly. A round of castanets had joined in, a battery of windpipes on their heels. Twilight found herself nodding, once more the victim of her body’s benevolent treachery.
Twilight’s assent given, Celestia stepped forward to press their chests together. Twilight flushed, but her face was mostly hidden by Celestia’s bulk. Celestia moved them, pushing and pulling Twilight to and fro. It seemed to be utterly chaotic, with no rhyme or reason. Every bump sent her falling, only to be caught by Celestia’s wings or chest. She was never given a moment’s rest between tumbles. Instead, she was the victim of a constant barrage of interceptions and redirections. It felt far more like falling than dancing, and then Twilight understood.
Celestia’s every movement, while seemingly random, was performed with the utmost care and precision. What at first had seemed to be a haphazard series of shoves and yanks slowly revealed itself to be a tightly ordered flow. Their bodies might well have been one, and Twilight understood the pattern.
The song was no mere music. It was the sky put to paper. The heavy thrumming of the iron lyre was the wind, both nurturing and petty. It carried them to aloft to the greatest heights, then crushed them on a whim. All at once it was to be loved and feared, and always respected. Windpipes were as clouds, islands of peace in the churning skysong. Sister to the wind, the castanets evoked the cloud’s dark nature. They were the seeds of black-tempered storms nestled within each tuft of safe harbor.
And, supporting it all, the harpsichord. Twilight’s wings, new as they were, sang with the harpsichord’s airy chimes. It was the sky, blue and unending. From horizon to horizon, and to a thousand more beyond, it was that which stood above all. To those who dared to reach, it shared itself without reservation. It had seen heroes and tyrants, triumphs and tragedies. A thousand kingdoms had risen and fallen beneath the blue, and a thousand more would follow. The song was the eternal sky, and Twilight could feel the very veins of history coursing through her.
It was only through Celestia that Twilight felt these things, and just as Celestia had told her, she never wanted it to end. But, alas, end it did. Twilight blinked away a few quick tears before Celestia could see them.
“You did wonderfully, Twilight.” Celestia’s smile was wide, as it so often was. And yet it was different, too. The rigid crease in the corner of her mouth, a gift of centuries worth of porcelain masks, had given way to a cute little dimple. It might have seemed a small change, but to Twilight it was in a world of its own.
Shaking out the lingering shivers in her wings, Twilight grinned just as brightly. “Thank you, Celestia. That was…” Twilight trailed off, her eyes sliding aside to catch sight of her friends. Rarity and Pinkie Pie were standing just where she had left them. Pressed together, they were only just holding their composure against gleeful giggles. Feeling somewhat less bothered by her friends’ meddling than only moments before, Twilight turned back to Celestia. “That was incredible.”
From the ashes of the skysong arose the newborn wail of a classical Marezart symphony. Twilight didn’t give Celestia the opportunity to ask for another dance. Taking the initiative herself, she pressed herself forward. Once more they danced, with Celestia again in the lead.
To the orchestral pieces, Celestia swayed with the grace of a seasoned master. The electronic songs proved somewhat of an unfamiliar challenge, but in only minutes Celestia was hopping and thrashing about with the vigor of a schoolfilly. Her form was clumsy and wild, but her enthusiasm did well to make up for it. There were a few near-tramplings, but nopony quite had the heart to mention them to her.
Twilight was just as much a stranger to the electronic pieces as to the classical, but she followed along as best she could. The other ponies, initially wary of their Princess’ presence, soon embraced them into their ranks. Celestia’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Twilight could not help but be caught up in the moment.
With the hours ticking by, Twilight found herself repeatedly sharing dances with her fellow Princess. Whether pressed together in one of the few waltzes her etiquette instructors had managed to teach her or in the midst of the wild spasms that normally defined Twilight’s dancing, Celestia’s brilliant happiness did not waver.
Twilight, however, was in no such bliss. Instead, while she deeply enjoyed the time spent having fun with Celestia, she could not shake the ever-present knot of tension in her gut. She had spent every minute since the moment of their arrival trying to find the right time to make her confession. When the clock passed midnight and the crowd began to gradually thin, Celestia began to take notice. Twilight’s attempts to disguise her distress were further upset when the two Princesses took a moment for rest. They found themselves a small balcony that overlooked the dance floor, leaving them in the shadows and away from prying eyes. With just the two of them together and with the music pulsing through them, it was as romantic a scene as Twilight could have hoped for.
'Oh, come on! What are the odds of that stupid bet ever coming to fruition!?’ Twilight angrily demanded of the empty air, glaring at her wings. She quickly ran the calculations of her ascension by sheer reflex.
‘Taking into account all relevant factors and incorporating a two-percent margin of error gives us approximately two-hundred-fifty-one million ninety-six thousand to one.’
Twilight growled, which garnered a raised eyebrow from Celestia. There were times, rare though they were, that Twilight despised her own ability to crunch numbers.
“Twilight, is there something the matter? You’ve been acting strangely since we arrived.” Celestia’s forehead was covered in a thin sheen of sweat that glistened in the bright overhead lighting. To Twilight, she seemed to glow. Celestia's mane spilled around them without its usual restraint, occasionally reaching of its own accord to tickle Twilight's wings or flank. As important as the situation was and as frazzled as she felt, Twilight could have easily done without the added distraction.
‘Oh, nothing much. Except now I have to pony up on a stupid bet that was so improbable I should have seen airborne swine before it came to fruition!’
What withered vestige of Twilight’s self-control remained held her from speaking her mind, though the thought came uncomfortably close to actually escaping.
What she said instead was, “N-nothing at all, Princess.”
She immediately cursed herself for stuttering, as well as for being too cowardly to admit her feelings. Twilight caught Pinkie Pie and Rarity both staring up at her from just off the dance floor below. Rarity rapidly gestured with her hooves between Twilight and the Princess, throwing in a few exaggerated winks for good measure. Beside her, Pinkie Pie glared at Twilight and mimed the gestures of a Pinkie Promise.
‘I swear on my magic, I am never making another drunken Pinkie Promise again. Next Hearts and Hooves Day is just going to be me and a book, like it should have been in the first place.’
Unfortunately for Twilight, Pinkie Promises were valid regardless of the pony’s blood alcohol level at the time of their making. Whether Twilight was grateful for the impetus the Pinkie Promise had provided her confession or furious with the lack of a common-sense loophole, she had not decided. For the moment, she had settled on both.
With all the courage she possessed, Twilight took a deep breath and leaned against her mentor to gain her attention. When Celestia turned to look down at her, Twilight braced herself and looked her former teacher directly in the eye. She stared into the deep violet oceans, so full of love and understanding. It was the needed trigger for all her years of fawning and deeply-repressed crushes to come rushing forward. Theirs was an unstoppable inertia that overcame the imposing sentinels of Fear and Doubt that had so long barred the way forward.
“Princess, I-"
“Oh, Twilight. You’re a Princess now, too, if you'll recall. You can just call me Celestia.” And there it went. All her resolve, shattered like glass by the warm, loving voice of her secret paramour. Twilight sagged and turned towards her friends in resignation. It appeared she would be the first pony to find out what terrible, horrible punishment awaited those who truly broke a Pinkie Promise instead of weaseling around it.
Twilight’s eyes swelled. Her ears perked straight up to better hear the tune. It was swirling around her, with her,through her. How it had happened, how circumstance had decided that she would be in a club with an eclectic music score, Princess Celestia, and a disco ball defied comprehension. Regardless, she for once did not feel the need to analyze, and instead latched onto the saving grace that had been delivered by a DJ with a taste for the classics.
I can do this.
“Princess, I’ve got something to show you,” she said. Not giving Celestia time to react, she teleported them both to the edge of the dance floor. The bright flash of magenta light drew the attention of the attendees. Twilight began to walk towards the center of the arena, an attractive and eye-catching sway in her hips.
“Give your Princess some room!” Rarity called out to the surprised crowd, which parted around Twilight in response.
The center of attention, Twilight’s hooves slid past each other, carrying her to the middle of the floor. A light flashed around her horn and the monotone marble was replaced with a flashing grid pattern of arcane lights.
Twilight raised herself to her back legs and pointed a fore hoof at the crowd, waving it past them to settle on a surprised Celestia. With her wings serving as balance, Twilight twirled her forelegs rapidly and slunk towards her mentor. Confidence forged in a music synthesizer was flowing through her, and she felt nearly drunk on the sensation. Her gaze was smoky, almost predatory. When their eyes locked, Celestia found herself blushing uncontrollably and unable to look away.
It was Twilight who broke eye contact, spinning in place and crossing her rear legs over themselves until she reached the center of the dance floor again. She hopped backwards to the edge of the floor, then twisted her way back to the center. She bobbed, weaved, twisted, curled, and twirled in intricate, yet simple patterns. She would occasionally run her forelegs down her chest, exceedingly aware that Celestia’s eyes were following her every move, only to bring them back up teasingly.
The crowd grew fanatic in support of their newest Princess, every hoof stomping to the beat to cheer her on. Heedless of her audience, Twilight danced a storm through The Chevalier in a display that could only be called truly funkalicious.Celestia’s gaze never wavered for a moment. She drank in the entire display, which she knew was aimed at her and her alone. Gone was the innocent, dough-eyed filly she had met so long ago, or even the nervous young mare with whom she had arrived. In her place was a smooth, sexy, confident goddess. A goddess that was giving her a show most stallions –and some mares– would sell both kidneys for.
And it was working.
By the Sun was it working.
Celestia’s wings stood at full mast, their great span pushing ponies aside. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Her mouth was parched, and her— well, suffice it to say her tail was tucked very tightly between her legs.
The climax came when Twilight planted her rear hooves and pointed directly at Celestia, her hips gyrating in a way that pushed the bounds of equine anatomy. When Twilight flipped her hair and wiped away a bead of sweat that had accumulated on her brow, Celestia nearly fainted. Twilight dropped to the floor and spun around herself until she came nearly face-to-face with the taller alicorn.
In a split second, Twilight latched onto Celestia’s lips. Time stopped. Twilight and Celestia lost themselves in each other, tongues intertwined in a dance of raw magic and burning sky. What seemed like hours passed, and only a polite cough from somepony in the intently-watching crowd reminded them of their audience. They parted slowly, then turned together to stare at the guests. With a heavy blush on her face, Twilight quietly mumbled.
“I like disco.”
Celestia—and the crowd— were quite literally speechless. Even the DJ lifted her violet sunglasses to gaze in awe, letting the music stop for the first time in hours. Rarity, who had attained for herself a spot on the closest ring of the crowd, was frozen in place with her mouth agape. Her expression was mirrored by most of the ponies surrounding the dance floor.
Somewhere near the back of the crowd, Pinkie Pie jumped into the air to scream, “Yeah, go Twilight!”
Without the music, Twilight’s confidence began to leak out of her. Princess Celestia continued to stand stock still, her tongue hanging limply from her mouth. In the utter silence, the weight of hundreds upon hundreds of eyes locked on Twilight began to make itself known. With only stunned inaction from Celestia, Twilight’s fears and insecurities fought back and brutally repressed the uprising of hope that had welled within her.
“Celestia?”
Energy began to slowly percolate through the crowd. Ponies recovered from what they had seen, and indistinct chatter surrounded her. Twilight, who could hear only judgment and disapproval in the awed whispering, stood with tears gathering in her eyes.
“P-Princess, please…”
“Twilight, what…” Celestia's words failed her, one of her hooves curling to her chest protectively. The lost, confused look that marred her beautiful face tore at Twilight’s heart. Twilight knew, in that moment, that she had made a mistake.
“I–I’m sorry, I…” , With the icy talons of panic tightening in a vice grip around her heart, Twilight disappeared in a blinding flash of magenta.