The Reverie
A filly once sat in this place, a white alicorn by her side, enveloping her with one wing. Beneath the shining moon she told her that the knowledge held by the assembled books was so grand, even she knew not the contents of all of them. The filly was perplexed by what she was told and her eyes had turned around, analyzed her surroundings. The hourglass in the center and all the books around it, this was just one room amidst the many, but it was the only room in the royal library with so large a window. A goddess sat by her side, the queen that lifted the sun and the moon, that brought day and night and changing of the tides, yet even she did not know every word written?
“There is something noble in the pursuit of knowledge,” Celestia had told the filly whom she only recently named her personal student. “But nopony will ever hold all the knowledge in the world. That is how things are, Twilight.”
Yet here she was, in the dark of the night, rain prattling down against the window through which usually around this time the moon would be clear in sight. The lantern was burning by her side, its light flickered, felt harsh on the eyes, but she continued nonetheless. Tireless was her pursuit as she turned the page of the book. One amidst the many, but an interesting read nonetheless. On The Spirits That Drift it was called. It was about the notion of an afterlife, the consequences of magical energies interfering with the passing of the dying. It should’ve been a grim topic, but it read so hopeful. The writer tried to define a possibility of ghosts, in the foreword he’d mentioned how his wife and children passed and sometimes he felt them there, in the corner of his eyes, on the edge of his consciousness.
“I think that all sorts of spirits roam the world, drifting between the wide grasslands beyond the dream realm, hoping to gift us that still live with small rays of hope,” Twilight read out loud as she finished the last chapter. “There is no physical proof of their existence, of course, but still I linger in the thought that for the deserving, they show themselves and offer what they can.”
She closed the book and rubbed her eyes, yawned. How late was it anyway? The morning still had to be far off, since all around her was dark and silent. Canterlot was quiet during the nights, everypony was sleeping and the guards only ever showed some presence every few hours. In the library, however, not even they appeared. Twilight Sparkle felt like a ghost whenever she sneaked into here late at night and took out all the books she wanted to read, all the information she wanted to gather. The young unicorn smiled at herself. She felt almost like a filly again, but she was pretty much an adult by equestrian standards.
Pretty much.
“No time to think, Twilight. Let’s go for the next book,” she told herself and rose up.
Her legs felt stiff, her back ached as she rose. Twilight groaned, loudly. Yet nobody heard her, she was all alone. Rain prattled down against the window and the black outside world was drenched in water. Her way back to her room would leave her soggy as well. Twilight smiled at the thought. “I might catch a cold,” she told herself aloud, pretended that the princess was here and nodding in agreement, “better stay here till the rain stops.”
It wouldn’t stop until the next afternoon, she noted mischievously. Twilight felt smart to have chosen this night for her research. Princess Celestia couldn’t fault her for the logic which made her stay in the library, nopony could. And she used the time productively, too. What a good student she was. What a good unicorn she was.
She put On The Spirits That Drift back into the corner where it belonged. It was an old book and its pages were dry as well as brittle. Those were the books she liked the most, the ones that were so much older than she. In a weird way, reading them made her feel older also and thus closer to her princess. Twilight couldn’t wait until she was finally of age and her first gray hair and all the wisdom she would have. I can be like princess Celestia. Old and wise and beyond refute, she told herself and her smile only grew.
As she traversed the library with the lantern hovering close by her side she noted once more how big all of this seemed. Was it the same for the princess? Somedays she wondered whether all the knowledge of the world was held within the Canterlot Royal Library, since there were so many books anyway. This was but one room amidst many, one wing amidst four. It wasn’t impossible that whatever she wanted to know, she could find here. Some of the books were in places they shouldn’t be, Twilight had noticed at some point. There were arcane tomes between ones about the equestrian wildlife and dissertations of state and policy between guides on building castles and houses. Sometimes, if she had just enough luck, Twilight found books she hadn’t expected to be written at all. Like a few days ago, when she found On The Spirits That Drift, in the same corner where Princess Celestia had shown her the newest version of the tale of Nightmare Moon.
Her eyes drifted, she yawned once more. “Don’t fall asleep,” Twilight told herself. “Cadance and Shining were up all night when they were your age.”
Older ponies could stay up longer, that was a logic she’d grown up with and now, on the cusp of legal adulthood, now was the time to make use of that luxury. Yet, for some reason, she found herself by the shelf that held stories for children, folktales and nursery rhymes. There were dozens of books with cute titles and covers, dozens who aimed to teach important life lessons to foals, colts and fillies. Twilight Sparkle found herself halting there, as the sound of the drumming rain was interrupted by the bang of thunder.
Once, these books had held so much wisdom for her. “The pursuit of knowledge is a noble one,” she told herself, proud that she’d taken all the lessons to heart. There were some about the importance of friends, some about the love among family, others who warned of changelings and the beasts below. She’d read them all, because she’d been a smart filly.
Now she looked them over again, tried to find a familiar title. She knew she’d read them, but none of them really stuck with her. That was almost worrying, but she knew just because she couldn’t directly remember what the titles held didn’t mean she hadn’t completely absorbed the lessons. Even so, those were children’s lessons and she was, as already mentioned, an adult.
“There rests a Nightmare in my closet,” she read one of the titles and rolled her eyes. A tale for foals.
“Why foals like you need rest,” she read the one beside it and once more she rolled her eyes. Probably should show that one to Spike. He’s getting rather annoying just before bedtime.
It sounded like a responsible thing for her to do, since baby dragons seemed so delicate and she wanted to prove to the princess just how much of a help she could be.
Twilight turned to the next book title. “I mean you.”
She blinked and looked again. “The Three Brave Griffons,” it read instead.
Once more thunder roared across the distant night sky and Twilight’s heart skipped a beat as it did. She turned around, to look at the window, at the rain pressing against it. “Ugh,” she said eloquently and turned back around. I don’t need rest. I don’t need to sleep. I’m a grown-up, I know what I’m doing. I’m fine.
She repeated those words in her head two times in a row until she was sure that she believed them. Then, with a sigh, she returned to looking for a book that could hold knowledge worth researching. She found naught but more children’s books. Of course she did, this was not the corner where the sun’s light would grant her a bit of luck. Who would put eldritch tomes amidst explanations of the wonders of being potty trained? The knowledge she wanted wasn’t here.
With a sigh, she decided to check one last book on this shelf, one last title before she would go and try her luck again between the shelf for the equestrian legends. Her eyes went over several books and she found one where the lettering stood out a bit. She yawned, her sight got a bit blurry, so she picked it up without reading what it was about. “Nothing like a blind date,” she mused with a tired smile as she seated herself and opened the pages.
A sweet smell arose into the air, a strangely familiar one. Though the first page was empty, the scent alone reminded her of Cadance and how she used to mess up Twilight’s mane back when she first started foalsitting her. She hadn’t talked much to her since those days were gone, hadn’t really held the contact. She wasn’t a foal anymore, so maybe she hadn’t needed the contact anymore. That thought filled her with a bit of sadness. Maybe she should write her someday, tell her how life was or something.
She turned the page and found herself looking at a mirror with words written above. She didn’t read them as she looked at herself in the candlelight. The image was of herself, suckling on a pacifier with a tired expression. She seemed like a foal that didn’t even realize she was about to fall asleep. Adorable, really. Twilight found herself laughing at her own image. A part of her wondered what the mirror was for exactly, since it didn’t really do what it should. Maybe it was a prank thing, but it made her feel a warmth she couldn’t really complain about.
The thunder tore her from that giggling and she shrunk as a bolt of lightning darted across the heavens. Once more her heart skipped a beat and she closed the book, held it close to her chest. Hugging a book always felt good to Twilight, like the author was right there with her. This time, even more so, as it almost felt like someone was hugging her back. Someone’s hooves wrapped themselves around her shoulders, softly someone’s cheek brushed against hers. Someone was watching over her, was here with her. Twilight held the book tightly as the sound of rain took over again and the howl of the thunder became naught but a memory.
It was strange, but the way she was hugged made her feel almost bubbly, if she only she wasn’t as tired as she was. It was so familiar, this feeling she had and the sweet scent in the air reminded her of someone. No, it wasn’t just a memory. As she turned her head the memory became as close to flesh as it could and she looked at the rose colored alicorn.
“Cadance, what’re you doing?”
“Protecting you from the lighting, silly,” the apparition answered.
No, not an apparition, Cadance. She was tall and graceful and her mane was done in that really professional ponytail that automatically gave her +3 authority points. She’d told Twilight once that authority was measured in points and she had to be right, because grown-ups and those so close to being grown-ups often tended to be right. The filly laughed.
“You’re the silly one, lightning’s not gonna come into the house.”
“And why do you think that is?”
Twilight looked straight into the Cadance’s eyes, swirling pearls of smoke and love. “Because of the way the building is constructed, electricity can’t–”
“Nope,” Cadance interrupted, giggling. “Well, it’s probably true what you’re saying, but the lightning and the thunder wouldn’t hurt you even if we were outside.”
Twilight frowned. “Because of you?”
“Because I’ll protect you, Twilight,” she told her with a soft smile. “So you don’t have to worry about it.”
She pulled her closer. Twilight felt the heat of her heart, smelled the sugary scent that permeated the air. It almost made her think that she really was tired, really needed to go to bed. Yet her eyes were still open and she still held the book in those grown-up hooves of hers. “Thank you,” she said, “so with you here, I can read this book with no trouble?”
Her eyes looked at the alicorn and for a moment, Twilight wondered why it was now that they decided to become heavy. She needed to look as awake as she was, or Cadance wouldn’t let her stay up.
“I think it’s already well past your bedtime,” the alicorn answered, frustrating Twilight quite a bit.
“I’m a big pony, I don’t need a bedtime,” she answered in retort. “You stay up late all the time.”
Cadance smiled. “I know you want to be all grown-up, but these things take time and I can see that my favorite foal needs some rest.”
Twilight turned around, to have a look at Cadance, to show her that she was grown-up now, that she was older than before. Yet, as she did that, as she rose up to her legs, heavy as they were, she found that the alicorn towered over her much like when first they met. She was tall and strong and looked so regal, yet the smile she bore was the kindest and most loving Twilight had ever experienced. Was she really this big, or was Twilight just smaller than she remembered?
Still clutching the book, the foal looked up at her sitter. “It rains outside, I don’t wanna get wet.”
Cadance turned around, to the window where the drops of rain left long trails on the glass, and nodded in agreement. “You could catch a cold, yeah,” she put one hoof on her chin in thought. “Maybe we should stay here.”
Twilight’s face brightened up as Cadance caught on. If she had her on her side nopony would complain. The decision was made by a grown-up and that gave it instant credibility and fool-proofery. She smiled as bright as her sleepy muscles allowed her and Cadance giggled in response as she rubbed her hoof on Twilight’s head. “So,” Twilight wondered, “I can read all night now?”
Cadance shook her head the instant Twilight finished asking the questions and that made the foal’s shoulders slump. Cadance caught on to that and after a moment of looking at Twilight’s sorry sight, she sighed. “Okay, kiddo, I can make you a deal. I get you ready for bed, then read you a story. If you’re awake by the end, you get to read whatever book you want.”
Twilight couldn’t have been happier in that moment as she looked at Cadance with a smile that felt too wide for her face and asked; “any book?”
“Any book,” Cadance answered with a knowing smile. Though what exactly she knew escaped Twilight as she yawned once more.
Then, for a moment, as she looked at Cadance, how she blurred out at the edges like mist, she thought it strange. She knew what getting ready for bed meant, knew it from the way Cadance looked, from the way this conversation happened, but in a strange way she thought that she was too old for that. She could get herself ready for bed and that without help. After all, she wasn’t the baby, Spike was. Yet, as Cadance rose to pick her up, the doubts seemed to vanish.
If she wasn’t a baby, all she needed to do was stay awake throughout the story. That would be proof enough. A grown-up didn’t need a bedtime and she certainly was all grown up.
In her mind, she was already victorious as Cadance picked her up with ease. For another moment Twilight could almost admit that this felt strange, because for that one moment in which she was up in the air, she almost felt like her body was already that of a mare. For the moment when Cadance laid her on her back and cooed at her softly and put the pacifier in her mouth she almost thought that she was too old for this and the diapers that Cadance unfolded and as she dutifully lifted her legs she almost thought that she hadn’t worn such things in years.
But those thoughts perished the moment the diaper was taped up and fit snuggly around her waist. The thick padding was so familiar between her legs, she knew that no matter how loud the thunder would be or how deep she would slumber, she was safe with it. It was a weird thing to think, for sure, but Twilight, between the suckling on a rubber teat, figured it a good thought.
“Looks like somebody’s happy to be in their diapee,” Cadance cooed and rubbed Twilight’s belly. “Come on now,” she said and laid down by Twilight’s side. “How about you give me that book and I’ll read you a tale from it.”
Twilight looked at her and then at the book she still held. Cadance always knew what Twilight wanted, that was why she was the best foalsitter after all. So she gave Cadance the book and then made to cuddle up with her, to look at the book as her foalsitter opened it. The first page was a blank and the second one was a mirror through which Twilight saw herself reflected in the candlelight. She wore her hair in childish braids and suckled on a dark blue pacifier with a star pattern on it and the thick diaper was clear for all to see.
She smiled as her foalsitter put an arm around her, because she found herself strangely pacified. There wasn’t really any need to pursue any more knowledge today, since tomorrow was another day she could be grown up and responsible and curious. Tonight, wearing her diapees and suckling on her binkie, she could just fall asleep by the side of her foalsitter, safe and sound.