> The Other Mare
>  by SleeplessBrony
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Other Mare
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Part One


The knock is as polite and discreet as it's possible for a knock to be, a precise three-tap rhythm that betrays its source – Cheerilee could hear the "darling" that hung unvoiced after the rapping.

She still had a towel wrapped around her head from the quick and very cold shower she had just taken for propriety's sake, since even in the circumstances it just wouldn't do to greet a guest stinking of sweat and all the delightful things she'd been doing recently. It gives a very strange weight to her head as she trots over to the library door and opens it.

"Ah, Rarity," she says, gushing relief. "Thank you for coming so quickly..."

The unicorn gives her a gracious nod. "Of course, of course! Although I... wonder what you could possibly need help with at this hour," she says, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Internally, Cheerilee groans. Usually she wouldn't mind that sort of thing, certainly not from Rarity, but given the circumstances...

"Well, it's, uh... about Twilight. Did... did Spike come with you?" she adds, trying to resist the urge to lean over Rarity's shoulder and peek for him. He was still a foal – well, underage, whatever dragons called it. A hatchling? Twilight called him a baby dragon sometimes...

The point was that Cheerilee had been as nonspecific as she could with him when she'd roused him from his room to get Rarity – just enough to get her here, now.

"He and Sweetie Belle are having some ice cream at the boutique. A reward for his good service," Rarity explains, as she steps inside. She casts a sidelong glance at Cheerilee. "I managed to get the impression we wouldn't be needing his help, if that's what you're asking."

Cheerilee sighs relief. "Ah, great. Um, this way, this way..."

"I'd ask if everything was going alright between you two, but since we're heading for the bedroom I'll assume so..." Rarity says, grinning. "Is there... something you want to ask me, Cheerilee?" she adds, with a slightly suggestive raise of the eyebrow.

Not now, okay? Heavens above!

"Look, just come on, okay?" Cheerilee huffs. "It's a... well, I hope it's a unicorn thing."

Rarity's only response is a confused and slightly worried frown.

They pause in front of the door, and Cheerilee does her best to look serious, trying not to give away how sheepish and uncomfortable she was. "Look, I'm, um... I'll be honest with you, it is a sex thing, but..."

Rarity puts a hoof on her heart and affects an earnest expression, closing her eyes and looking haughty. "I am the very soul of discretion, dear." She opens one, smiling slightly. "Dans la boudoir, there are only private matters. That's my policy."

"That's... yes, good, thank you," Cheerilee says, rolling her eyes internally as she tried to figure out what Rarity suspected – or hoped, perhaps – to find behind door number one.

The bedroom is dark, lit only by the pale light of Equestria's perpetually full moon. Cheerilee follows Rarity in, trying not to groan at the unmistakably organic smell in the air which is still making parts of her brain do little loop-de-loops. Rarity is polite enough to only briefly flap an ear in acknowledgment that she was under no illusions about the situation.

Twilight lays on the bed, motionless. Her eyes are open and she wears a dull, silly grin – the very one she'd been wearing when it had happened.

Whatever it was, beyond, well... beyond the orgasm she'd been having at the time.

Rarity steps forward and looks Twilight over, peering at her features and waving a hoof in front of her face vaguely. She sits back on her haunches, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

"Well?" Cheerilee asks, desperately. "She has a pulse and everything, but won't wake up. I've tried... well, everything."

"Yelling? Shaking her? That sort of thing?"

Cheerilee nods. "That's why I thought it was magical, you know. Maybe it's just a... er, thing. For unicorns, I mean."

Rarity touches Twilight's muzzle experimentally. "Water in the face, too," she says, grinning slyly.

Oh for heavens' sake.

"The soul of discretion, remember," Cheerilee warns, not exactly eager for everypony to know the specific details of her passion.

"Of course, of course," Rarity says, gleefully, clearly storing that knowledge away for later. She sobers quickly, though, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, dear, but I've never seen this, or heard about anything like it. I have no idea."

Cheerilee sighs, feeling a dark gloom welling in her. "I was afraid of that. Oh, Twilight... what did I do to you...?"

"Do to her?" Rarity asks, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. "Why do you say that?"

Cheerilee frowns. Honestly, just come out and ask what we get up to behind closed doors. I know you're curious – and a little jealous... 

"She was... well, she was using her magic. Um. A lot of it," she says, internally cursing the blush she feels spreading across her features at the memory of her beloved levitating her in midair, playing her like a harp, teasing pleasures from Cheerilee's twitching form that the earth pony had never imagined possible before that first, wonderful night together.

"Personally, when I... over-exert myself, shall we say, I just get a headache for a few days," Rarity replies, giving the recumbent Twilight a bit of a look, the sort Cheerilee reserved for the Cutie Mark Crusaders and their latest harebrained scheme. "Then again, I'm usually just working in my shop or finding gems. I suspect that's not quite the same."

Cheerilee clears her throat, looking away at nothing in particular. "Not... not really, no. And I may have, um... well. I was, er... finished, and um, wanted to pay her back a little."

"Oh?"

"I think I may have... overdone it," Cheerilee admits, tapping her forehead.

Rarity's grin could have oiled axles. "Oh my. Her horn?"

"Uh... yeah. Is that bad?"

Cheerilee expected a more amused response, but Rarity frowns a little uncomfortably. "Well, between us mares... even I need to be a little careful about that sort of thing – as I'm sure you know."

The memory of a couple days where she'd had to teach with a scalded tongue and hair that kept trying to stand on end present themselves for Cheerilee's glum recollection. "All too well," she grumbles, ignoring the bright flash of amused glee in Rarity's eyes.

"No, no, I mean – the magic, Cheerilee. It can get a little out of control if you're not careful. I turned a pillow into a fish, once," Rarity admits, coloring a little. "It very much ruined the mood for me, I have to say. But with Twilight Sparkle... who can say what would happen, really?" She pauses, looking thoughtful. "Well, besides the obvious."

"What do you mean by that?"

Rarity's incredulous expression is all it takes to make Cheerilee's heart drop into the empty pit of her stomach. "Who do you think I mean?" the unicorn asks, smirking.

Cheerilee's eyes go wide. "Oh, no. Not about this. Not her –"


• • •


Princess Celestia looks out into the night sky from the balcony of her chambers.

The stars twinkle, diamonds set among silk, which is itself black-but-not-black, the non-color of the distant void. They flash and sparkle around the pale disc of the moon, which drifts serenely across the sky like a great ship across an endless sea, accompanied and guided only by distant stars, visible but never within reach, close enough to see and feel faintly but never to be touched.

It is truly beautiful.

Sad, perhaps, in its solitude... but beautiful.

An enviable position, the princess has to admit.

Celestia inclines her head, very slightly. "I know you're there, sister. I can feel you. Please have the courtesy to show yourself, at the very least," she says, coolly.

She doesn't need to turn to know that behind her, a shadow changes and warps slightly such that a pair of eyes and a ghostly blue flame seem to inhabit hints of a silhouette that might belong to a creature much like the material form of Luna, Princess of the Moon.

Silence reigns, for a very long time.

Eventually, a change of texture on the wind suggests speech, but only just.

"Well?"

"Did you have something you wished to discuss, sister?" Celestia asks, privately acknowledging the minor pettiness; but she is owed a little pettiness towards her sister, who has lately been very troublesome. Let Luna feel slighted – she had earned it with her scheming.

"Perhaps."

Celestia looks over her shoulder, an eye firmly fixed on the spectral form behind her. "Then speak, by all means."

"I..."

A pause.

"Once, on a night such as this, you would call me to you. We would share wine, and name the stars, and seek the creatures hidden in the skies."

"If you desire wine, it can be arranged. The steward would be thrilled to help you, I'm sure," Celestia says, the perfect pleasantness in her tone marred only by the most tiny sense of impatience. "I suggest the 1554 Chateau Hiver cabernet sauvignon, if you are interested."

Luna's voice manages to sound amused. "A red, at this hour, with no meal to accompany it? You have always had terrible taste."

"I merely find the arbitrary rules tiresome and unhelpful. I drink what I enjoy tasting, sister."

"I, for one, refuse to be caught in such barbarism."

"Then ignore my preferences for your own. You are welcome to do as you see fit, I'm sure," Celestia adds, immediately regretting doing so. There was bite in it that ought not be there.

The shape of the shadow changes slightly, suggesting an inclined head and the sly smile that most assuredly would accompany it.

"If the bottle were sent to you and we sinned together, I suppose I could tolerate the... indiscretion. But it would pain me to have it held against me by those who knew of my... lapse of judgment."

Another long silence passes, as Celestia held the shadow in a calm, even gaze over her shoulder. Eventually it blurs and reforms again, in a pose that could not be anything except submissive.

"Will you share wine with your sister this night?"

Celestia looks away. "Not tonight, I think. Forgive me."

The specter's shape blurs again, recoiling.

"I see. That is a shame. I have recalled our time together in ancient days with fondness, of late. I would that they were added to."

"I merely wish to be alone with my thoughts at the moment," Celestia says, staring out at the sky, trying not to automatically list the names of the stars – all the names, since they were different every time. She turns away from them, looking back at the gloom behind her. "I'm sure you feel the same way, from time to time."

The shadow's shape hints at a reproachful expression, but only just.

"We must speak, sister."

Celestia rounds, suddenly, with a grace and speed that seems impossible for her size. The specter is obliged to swirl and reform, shying away from the Sun's displeasure. "We must, now? We have spoken at length, lately, She of the Moon. A great many things have been said. What would you like to add to them?"

"I – I am not sure. But I would rather there be any word than none, and that I could be close to you rather than whispering on the wind. I had my fill of silent solitude when I struggled alone in the dark..."

"I concede that it is a pleasure that must be cultivated sparingly lest it lose its luster," Celestia agrees, somewhat grudgingly. She is annoyed to find Luna's shadow smaller than her actual size, barely bigger than an average pony; from anypony else that would be a welcome show of contrition, but with things being the way they were, Celestia is forced to wonder if it is calculated.

Scheme, if it pleases you, Luna; but then I'll know you to be a schemer.

If it could be said to do so, the shadow shifts awkwardly.

"It has been months, sister."

"What are months to those who count centuries like the days in a week? Spare me a night, Luna of the Moon."

The response manages to sound sarcastic despite being little more than texture to the gentle evening breeze. Everything is sarcastic from Luna, these days, Celestia considers – she remains one of those ponies who turns embarrassment and shame outwards, even after all these centuries, one of her more annoying personality traits.

"Very well, a night, for my sins. And then what? A week, another month? So it goes until a year passes and we still have not resolved our differences. Years become decades, decades become centuries. Pain will linger between us and fester, and we will be apart, sisters in name only, not in trust or love. I have no wish for that to happen –"

"Is that so?"

The bitterness on her voice sickens Celestia, its venom more virulent because it is so very honest.

There is a pause.

"I did not deserve that."

"Because your plotting has resolved with a minimum of damage?" Celestia asks, not for the first time. "Not your doing, I assure you."

"That is also unfair of you. I know no victory or happiness from my waywardness. I lost the trust of somepony I considered a dear friend – perhaps many such friends. And my heart was wounded to lose the love of somepony so... special. I have confessed all this to you before, Celestia. Once, my pain would have moved you."

"You are just fortunate that Twilight is happy. There would have been need to... correct the situation if harm had come to her, emotional or otherwise." Celestia frowns as the hundreds of terrible possibilities that had blessedly managed to fail to come to pass rolled through her mind once again.

"We no longer need worry about her. She is in better hooves than mine."

"Truer words have rarely been spoken."

"They're not yours, either..."

Celestia stiffens, cursing herself internally for doing so.

But she stiffens nevertheless.

There it was. That little hook, that little tease, the one that had kept Celestia from action through this whole wretched affair, because acting despite it came with so many unfortunate consequences.

The princess' perfect memory slides back over months, to that dreadful argument, recalling her indignant rage and how the sentence had been like an icy knife driven into her heart, paralyzing her, robbing her of her ability to save Twilight from her sister's machinations.

In memory, Luna's face grows canny and sly, cruel mockery filling her voice.

You just want to keep her for yourself, is that it...?

It was always a rumor. An ugly one, that spoke to the... smallness of imagination the world suffered. There are more kinds of love – deep, strong love – in the world than romantic love, and that's the very end of that discussion. Still, it made action impossible, because the only thing worse than Twilight having a vain, hollow infatuation with the capricious princess of the night was...

Was...

Was not finding the very real love she shared with Cheerilee.

The one which fulfilled her in so many little ways, that spilled out of every word she wrote to Celestia. The one Celestia cherished and honored.

That was something Twilight had to find, and a trial they had to endure together, not something Celestia dared interfere with and certainly not facilitate. That would ruin it. Even when Twilight had come to her mentor for comfort after Luna had rebuked her, Celestia had merely let herself be a mirror for Twilight to bounce feelings off of, to know her own mind.

In its way, the whole affair had been a sign; a slightly overdue one, perhaps. A sign of change.

The last sign.

"She wasn't going to be my little student forever," Celestia murmurs, and turns away from the wretched shadow again to look out across the great plains south of Canterlot. The familiar landscape had changed recently: where once there had been only a great highway, there was now also a rail line heading towards the interchange station...

In Ponyville. Twilight's home.

Celestia sighs, staring off into the distance. "She's a mare grown, as you've made all too clear with your...  your...  lewdness."

The amusement in Luna's "voice" is extremely unwelcome.

"No matter how you try to get it out of me, I will make no apology for encouraging her – she kissed me first, after all. And it shocks me to hear that sort of prudishness from you, of all ponies, who I know to cherish passion. I would hate to hear that you've become an old mare while I was away."

"'Cherishing passion' is one thing; doing so publicly and constantly is quite another. As ever, I prefer discretion," Celestia says, forcing calm.

"As ever, I interpret that to mean you're covering for having trouble finding somepony willing to endure how boring warming your sheets must be..."

Celestia turns back to the shadow, an angry, biting rejoinder hot on her lips like a live coal, but she forces it down. She knows Luna, she knows this behavior; the teasing does not come from actual desire to cause harm. If Luna wished harm on her, she'd do more than be prickly.

This is what Luna does to cover for herself when she's nervous. Or frightened.

Celestia forces herself to back down, settling her wings against her sides and letting her shoulders fall into a more natural position. "This is not counting the stars, little sister. This is why I asked for some time."

The shadow blurs, growing more indistinct. There are not eyes and a flame anymore, just pale blue lights that hint at shapes for fleeting moments, so brief that one would be forgiven for assuming they were seeing things.

"You are frightened. Please don't deny it."

"Yes."

"Of what?"

"I have... seen things. I fear I have set them in motion, and cannot stop them..."

Celestia's eyebrow raises, but that is the only sign of the sudden chill which grasps her heart she allows to express itself.

"Once upon a time, there were two silly sisters who grew apart, letting bitterness and slights divide them. One day, one of them strayed into darkness, and had nopony to call out to for help, because she had not tried to stay close to the one she loved..."

"If you believe your actions were motivated by some...  darkness within you –"

The shadows explode. They roil and whorl over each other, black-over-black, eye-watering and unreal even to the princess of the sun, until the shape of Princess Luna looms large out of the darkness, still vague and ethereal but more clear than it had been previously. Shadowy energy rises around her like smoke from a greenwood fire, swirling upwards and vanishing. Her bright blue eyes are wide with intensity, and the flame on her chest burns furiously – Celestia can almost feel its heat as Luna thrusts her face into her sister's.

"Darkness comes in more than one way, Celestia of the Sun," Luna says – and it is a voice, now that she is projecting her presence here so strongly, though she does not yet dare actually call herself here and intrude on Celestia's solitude. Her words are heavy with portent, and tinged with anxiety. "Darkness is the night that never ends, and the morning that never comes. They are alike and yet not alike, one and yet two, but equal dooms all the same."

Celestia frowns, suddenly unsure. "What are you saying?"

The spectral form of Luna begins to fade away as she steps back, receding into the darkness until all that remains are the eyes and flame.

"Only that I believe I will call for that bottle of wine, no matter how gauche it is to drink, and wait."

And then she is gone. Truly gone.

Celestia frowns at the place where she had been. What did that mean? If Luna was that concerned about herself, why be vague – just come and speak plainly!

The princess closed her eyes to the world and sighed.

All there was between herself and Luna anymore were words. Discussions. Platitudes, too often. Patches over tears and stains in the fabric of their love.

And frankly, she was tired of it.

Once – though there were always little conflicts between them – they had shared a bond so close that they barely ever spoke to each other. They didn't need to – they went about their lives knowing the other was going about theirs. A nod of greeting was enough interaction for a week at a time, because unspoken but conveyed by that nod was all the love and trust they'd built up over centuries.

But that had changed as well – the Nightmare had changed it. And though that sin was now cleansed and forgiven, if not forgotten, Luna had almost immediately betrayed their slowly-healing relationship and tried to ste–

Tried to seduce Twilight Sparkle, whose life should be pure joy in every aspect.

Which was not to say that involvement with Luna was an entirely bad thing, from what Celestia had seen, but one gift that Luna was always poor at giving was satisfaction and fulfillment – she acknowledged as much herself. She was a lover, not a love; a decade or two filled with her very special brand of sensuality, and then off she'd flit to the next pony or two that caught her eye.

By her own admission, Luna knew that Twilight deserved more than that. Deserved better than the fate so many of Luna's lovers had known: though they moved on from her, there was no forgetting the taste of shadow, not really. Not in the mind, and certainly not in the flesh. While a few learned to embrace and cherish the transience of that experience, most... suffered.

But Luna was Luna.

Cheerilee, on the other hand... Cheerilee would be there for Twilight as more than a passing shadow. Celestia, who read the currents of causality and potentiality with a competence that bordered on prescience, looked at their relationship and saw something so rich and pure that it should be, and more to the point should be tended and supported and blessed.

And she did support and bless it. She was just angry about the circumstances which had brought it about, though it was so lovely a thing. They were ugly, chaotic, marred by pain and struggle; and though they were over, Celestia knew that their scars would linger for some time.

Twilight was happy, and that was all Celestia had ever wanted.

You just want to keep her for yourself, is that it?

Celestia did not tremble, because she did not allow herself to.

It was just a memory.

A sensation of presence flits across the princess' attention, and for a moment she wonders if Luna has returned, despite her words – but no, the presence is too small. Luna was powerful, such that she deformed the world around her, turned shadow into a living thing. This was equally familiar, though.

She opens her eyes just in time for a puff of sweet-smelling green smoke to swirl before her and become a hastily-bound parchment note. She deftly catches it with magic and –

her eyes scan every word, every sentence, and she drinks in the meaning behind them, all the words that Twilight leaves out; she senses the love, the tenderness, the joy of being that now fills her student's life where once there was an all-too-familiar sense of absence and longing that Celestia dared not address or even point out to Twilight lest the world fall out of balance, lest the dreams Twilight sometimes had and the little glances she occasionally let linger for too long on her princess latch onto that attention and grow into an idea, one that would be beautiful and powerful like a naked flame, consuming them both

– pauses a moment before taking a deep, steadying breath and opening it.

Dear Princess Celestia,

It's Cheerilee. I'm Twilight's girlfriend – but I guess you probably already know that. She says she's written about me... 

I'm not sure how to begin this letter since we've never actually met yet, but Rarity and Spike say this is the best way to get in touch with you, and I guess the time has come.

Something's happened to Twilight

Whatever the rest of the letter says, Celestia never knows. She's gone before the parchment hits the ground.


• • •


Cheerilee cannot help but think, once again, how strange just walking into the library is.

She remembers back when she was a filly and the big treehouse at the center of town seemed like a fortress, locked up and dark when it wasn't under the careful eye of the ancient librarian, Ulysses. She'd spent a lot of time here, back then – sometimes it occurred to her to regret that time, since her ambitions to go to the University of Canterlot had been destined to never really pan out, but she couldn't have known that at the time.

Even after she'd finally returned to Ponyville and taken up her position at the school, the library remained one of those places which commanded respect and awe and a certain decorum, like City Hall or the Palace in Canterlot. There was something that said: this doesn't belong to you, and is something bigger and beyond you, little Cheerilee.

But then Twilight Sparkle had moved in, and it had become a place of light and noise and constant activity – some of it much more exciting than the rest. And then, after all the joy, and the pain, and the confrontation...

Well, and then she'd chosen not to walk away. And because of that, the library, which had once seemed so huge and distant was...

Home.

She even has her own key, now, something a younger Cheerilee would have prized beyond words – for very different reasons than she did now, of course, although she did occasionally take advantage of late-night access to the collection.

This place – her fillyhood refuge and place of work – was now her home. Home, in this case, being defined poetically in the sense of "where her heart rested at the end of the day." Spike has even started calling Cheerilee "mom", sarcastically, because she is so much better about reminding him to do his chores than her somewhat distractible lady friend.

It isn't really hers, in the strictest, most mundane sense; she still rents her little house down the way. But soon, she'd be taking the plunge and moving in for good. They'd talked about it a lot, and had started getting everything ready. Twilight was beside herself with excitement and nervousness in equal measure, but If Cheerilee was honest, she thought it was merely giving up a tired pretense. Four or five nights out of seven, depending on how much work she had to do, she came to the library rather than heading straight to her own place... and maybe found her way back to her rental and the bed she'd inherited from her grandmother.

Twilight's bed is smaller, but so, so much more warm and welcoming, even – no, especially – when all they did was collapse into it together at the end of a long night poring over their separate work on the library floor.

She loved it here. She always had and, she suspected, always would.

But just now it's a little frightening again. Not because of the place, or the hour... but because of who might be there.

Rarity and Spike had stifled bemused chuckles when Cheerilee had asked how long it would be before the princess found time to show up, the schoolteacher's tone clearly expecting an answer measured in days, if not weeks.

It's about time you found out about this, I think, Rarity says in Cheerilee's memory, smiling as she lets Cheerilee out the side door of the boutique. And just between you and I... be polite, and bear in mind that she can seem very strange sometimes. Try not to take it personally.

Cheerilee sighs resignedly, reaching for the handle of the library's front door.

It had to happen someday.

Frankly, the prospect holds more dread than the conversation with Twilight's supportive, but somewhat sheltered and oblivious parents had. Cheerilee swore that two or three times in that long chat, Twilight's mother's face had scrunched up in a way that suggested she was tempted to ask something like, "But how can two mares even do... you know, that?"

That would not be a problem with Princess Celestia. Somehow that wasn't a comfort.

Twilight was open with Cheerilee about everything in her life, even the things Cheerilee didn't really understand, and a lot of those things had to do with her beloved unicorn's relationship with the immortal Princess of the Sun and the magical side of her existence. It was at once as compelling and wonderful as it was frustratingly complex and seemingly nonsensical. There's only so much an earth pony can really get about that sort of thing, and Cheerilee accepts that this would always be something she'd mostly observe in her beloved's life, not experience or participate in.

But to be so... closely connected to Princess Celestia...

Ponies talk about tough in-laws, but this is just ridiculous!

Twilight and Cheerilee's plans mostly revolved around setting up perfect circumstances for the two to meet. Twilight actually got really neurotic about it, fretting endlessly until Cheerilee wrapped her up in a tight embrace and did that thing with her tongue which turned Twilight to mush lest she blow a fuse in that pretty little head of hers.

This situation was about as far from their plans as possible. A nice dinner in the Library, perhaps. Accompanying Twilight to Canterlot to present research, maybe.

Sex coma?

Somehow the possibility had not come up.

Cheerilee throws her head back and groans. Heavens above, what do I even say –

"'Hello' is generally acceptable, to begin," says a calm voice behind her. "But I am afraid I must admit sputtering and stammering out my name in alarm is far more common."

For a moment, Cheerilee thinks it's her own; but no, it's far too regal, too controlled... too divine. There's even just the slightest hint of amusement in it, enough to seem friendly and personable without even hinting at condescension.

Cheerilee turns suddenly, like a foal caught with her hoof in the cookie jar, and gasps into the faint, but nevertheless radiant smile of Princess Celestia.

And like millions of ponies before her, her breath just stops.

She's huge, first of all: two heads taller than anypony Cheerilee has ever seen, glowing faintly in the darkness like a magnificent sculpture cut from stone so pure white that it gives off its own light. Her ethereal, unreal mane billows gently in a wind Cheerilee can't feel – and something about that nags at the earth pony in the depths of her mind, as if her inability to perceive it made her deaf and blind to something that was more real than she was herself.

And then Celestia moves, and the spell is broken; the goddess is merely the beautiful, powerful, and ancient Princess of the Sun.

There is something in Cheerilee that is removed enough from everything to grumble: Oh, that's so much better. I was afraid there for a second.

"P-Princess Celestia!" Cheerilee sputters and stammers, throwing herself against the door, utterly aghast.

Celestia's mild grin flickers wider for the briefest moment. "You see?"

Cheerilee merely chuckles weakly in response, eyes wide.

How in the – how is she here? Where's her carriage, her guards? Did she fly? No, that's far too slow, even for Rainbow Dash... magic? But why –

The princess' head cocks slightly, in a mildly curious way. "The matter seemed urgent," she says, as if reading the frantic questions racing through Cheerilee's mind. Her smile grows wider and stays that way this time, but Cheerilee cannot help but think it doesn't look entirely happy. "It generally is, with Twilight."

"Uh, yeah," Cheerilee manages.

She rises and tries to compose herself as best she can, but as she forces herself to look up and introduce herself – Hello, I'm Cheerilee, and we're about to discuss the intimate details of my sex life with your student, who you've known since she was a little foal! How good to meet you! – she looks up into empty air where there ought to be a glowing, white alicorn.

Celestia is already halfway into the library.

The words who do you think you are, just barging into somepony's home like that leap to the tip of Cheerilee's tongue, which perhaps serves as proof that there is still some part of her that really, really just cannot keep up with current events.

She's the princess. She can do what she likes and there is absolutely nothing little Cheerilee can do about it. And she's known Twilight forever, so...

Something about that nags at Cheerilee, too.

And, after all, Rarity did sort of warn her about this.

Don't take it personally.

But deep down, something in Cheerilee says it doesn't matter who she is; this place isn't hers. She has to ask to go in, goddess or no. Even Cheerilee usually asks, even though Twilight and Spike don't mind her just walking in anymore. There was something important about that, about being welcomed.

Still, she says nothing, just shakes her head and tries to take a couple calming breaths. This is all getting to be too much, very quickly.

"Are you coming, Cheerilee?"

Who the hell are you to invite me into my own – well, the place that – where – where my Twilight lives, and I'm going to live soon?

This is my place!

"Right behind you. Sorry."

As Cheerilee enters, Celestia stands on the library floor, head raised slightly in a strange display of intense attentiveness, eyes slowly moving around the place, taking everything in. The shelves. The writing stand. The weird bust built into the table. The owl's vacant perch.

The little collection of poetry books Twilight had set aside as a special collection with Cheerilee's help. The framed picture of the two of them hanging near the doorway to the kitchen.

The slightly-distressed couch, the cushions of which were still scattered from where Twilight and Cheerilee had been playfully throwing them at each other.

The long-forgotten pile of research notes and half-completed stack of assignments to correct, which lay in two chaotic heaps on the table.

For the very first time, Cheerilee is confronted with the strangely unreal experience of being in the presence of a creature vastly, vastly more intelligent and experienced than her. She is overwhelmed by a strange sense that a great deal of busy, productive activity is happening even though Celestia is barely moving.

This came with the added dread of knowing, somehow, that Celestia's incredible mind can now probably make a good guess exactly the way Twilight and Cheerilee's conversation had wandered up the stairs and into sweaty oblivion on the bed.

Never before has describing a blush as "burning" seemed like anything but a colorful poetic affectation...

Cheerilee's heart starts beating again as Celestia's eyes narrow slightly and she nods, once.

"It has been a long time since I was last here," is all the princess says.

Cheerilee's brow furrows. Didn't Twilight say you were just here a few months ago? What –

Celestia turns to Cheerilee, expression neutral. "Well, then. Let's see what can be done."

"Er, yeah. I didn't, er, feel like writing out exactly what happened..." Cheerilee said, rubbing the back of her neck with a hoof awkwardly. "Twilight is –"

"In bed, where you left her. Forgive me for saying so... but that much is obvious," Celestia says, spreading her wings and leaping to the second level. Cheerilee gasps, eliciting a little chuckle from the princess as the earth pony scampered to keep up with her long strides.

The princess reaches the bedroom door and –

And just opens it.

Cheerilee almost yelps in embarrassment – after all, even with all the windows open, the place has to still stink of sex.

But there's something else, too. A sense of violation, a sense of betrayal.

That's Twilight's bedroom! That's private! Nopony gets to just... go there... 

In memory, Rarity gives her an impatient look.

Cheerilee sighs, and hastens to catch up with the princess. She's here to help, you silly filly... relax, for heavens' sakes.

Twilight was still laying senselessly on the bed, her face still a mask of delirious pleasure. Cheerilee's gaze flickers to Celestia's face for a moment and is relieved not to see disgust or irritation there, just a sort of professional dispassion that puts Cheerilee in mind of a doctor looking at an ugly compound fracture and putting their mind onto how to cure the hurt, overcoming their visceral reaction.

That is a comfort... and yet, something in her had suspected... any reaction. Something.

But then Celestia was... special, wasn't she.

Celestia leans over Twilight's recumbent form and peers into her eyes carefully, pursing her lips, before leaning back and smiling gently. "Ah. This is nothing too serious."

Cheerilee frowns. "Uh... it's not?"

"No, no! Surely she's told you about this...?" Celestia asks.

Cheerilee can't help but find her amused grin slightly patronizing. A sing-song from the schoolyard field leaks into her mind, unbidden.

I know something you don't know... 

Rarity's face in Cheerilee's memory is firm and irritated, now. Don't take it personally!

The princess looks down at Twilight and shakes her head. "Twilight, Twilight... I love you dearly, but sometimes you just need to remember that you have to tell ponies things."

"I feel the same way," Cheerilee blurts, unable to resist a suddenly-intense need to show that Celestia wasn't the only pony who knew Twilight well. "All the time."

Celestia's pleasant smile is silent for a heartbeat too long. "I can't imagine you don't," she says, before sitting up into a pose Cheerilee finds intensely familiar and clearing her throat.

So that's where Twilight learned how to lecture.

"As I am sure you know, Twilight is extremely gifted, magically," Celestia begins, gesturing towards the cutie mark emblazoned on Twilight's flank. "Unfortunately, this means that she has an inclination to channel more energy than she is sometimes capable of handling, which can have... unfortunate results. When I met her for the first time, for example, her parents had been turned into cacti and Spike was thirty meters long, and that was almost twenty years ago. She's only gotten more powerful since then."

"Oh, my..."

Celestia smiles brightly at Cheerilee's shock. "So I'm sure you can appreciate that it was necessary to deal with this situation. A few years ago – with her permission, of course – I implanted a hypnotic suggestion into her mind which causes her to 'fall asleep' when she senses the magic getting out of control. A bit of a release, for her safety and everypony else's. She's in no danger."

An objection presents itself, but Cheerilee hesitates. It might require... explaining things...

But this was about Twilight's health. She needed to know.

"Uh... well..."

"Yes?" Celestia asks, pleasantly, deliberately ignoring Cheerilee's discomfort. Something in Cheerilee realizes that she's just trying not to compound the earth pony's embarrassment, but she can't help resenting it. Celestia has yet to give any sign whatsoever that this situation is unusual or compromising in any way.

I mean, come on! At least... at least look disapproving for a moment, or... or something! I know you're a million years old or whatever, but this is ridiculous. You cannot possibly be this nonchalant about catching Twilight doing... whatever she was doing to me!

"Not to get into too much detail, but... I've definitely seen her using, uh... I don't know, more magic than she was when she – er, at the time. She moved a whole water tower once, and that was years ago," she adds, not exactly flattered by the comparison. Twilight enthusiastically praised Cheerilee's curves, but ponies could sometimes be a little unkind.

Celestia's smile doesn't fade. "It is not merely the volume of magic that controls the trigger. Her ability to control magic is almost limitless, in theory..." At this, Celestia raises a hoof to Twilight's cheek fondly, and Cheerilee feels a momentary sense of confusion, as if she just heard something important but knows that its significance escapes her. "But from context I suspect she felt... overstimulated. Perhaps even a little frightened."

Hungry to reward her beloved for the last... well, however long it had been, Cheerilee pounces on Twilight, whose horn still glows brightly. The unicorn yelps in surprise and starts to say something, but before she can make herself clear, Cheerilee's lips are planted firmly on that beautiful, shining length. The taste and smell of ozone is intense, but the only sensory input the older mare is interested in is Twilight's sudden panting whines of ecstasy... 

Cheerilee tries not to squirm under the intensity of Celestia's suddenly unblinking stare. "You could say that."

"Well, then," Celestia says, nodding. "Just bear in mind that the calmer she is, the safer things are. Surprising her while she's pushing herself is always a bad idea."

There's a hint of teacher voice in the princess' words; Cheerilee recognizes the tone instantly, since she so often hears it in her own voice. Listen closely, young lady. This is not a suggestion, though I'm phrasing it that way to be gentle with you.

But still: clipped, clinical. As if nothing is strange about this situation at all.

Heavens, but she has to know this. Twilight talks about her as if she's perfect, like she always knows exactly what everypony's feeling, and always has the right words at the right time... 

"I understand. Really, I do," she says, trying to ignore a sudden sympathy with Apple Bloom, the most common recipient of Cheerilee's own brand of gentle but unquestionable verbal authority.

The princess sighs, and begins looking around the room. "The truth is that my intervention was almost... hm. Unnecessary is not quite the right word, perhaps. Still, Spike would recognize the signs as well, and knows what to do."

Oh, come on! Spike?! You cannot be serious!

"Well, I hope you'll forgive me not wanting to explain to him... um..." Cheerilee looks away. "We try to keep him uninvolved with this part of our relationship, as you can imagine."

Celestia nods approval. "I appreciate your discretion, Cheerilee. He is still very young, especially in the measure of his people; let him remain so. But if this should happen in other circumstances in the future – when she's performing research, perhaps..."

"Right, right," Cheerilee says. "So what do we do?"

"She... she should have a little bell somewhere. Small, silver, with a purple ribbon tied into the handle..." The princess cocks her head, frowning very slightly. "She always used to keep it by her bedside when she lived in Canterlot so that it was easy to find. She sometimes had trouble with channeling magic in her dreams, you see."

The princess frowns at Twilight's nightstand – which is actually visible nowadays, a little picture of Cheerilee and Spike making faces at the camera standing in place of the haphazard stack of the ten or twelve books she was reading at any given time which had generally lived there during Twilight's bachelorette days.

Cheerilee's brow furrows. "Ah! That, yes... I think I've seen it recently. It must be around here somewhere..." She taps her chin, trying to remember where; if it was on the nightstand, Cheerilee cannot remember it. It would not have been alone. "I... well, we've – well, Spike and I mostly, but you know, relationship – we have been cleaning up recently." An impulse, somewhere deep in the pit of her belly, makes Cheerilee lock her gaze on the princess'. "So that I can move in, you know?"

"I see. She... hadn't mentioned that to me," Celestia says calmly, raising an eyebrow. "But it certainly explains Twilight Sparkle's personal space being slightly more... tamed than I'm used to."

"A constant battle of attrition."

"I believe it."

Cheerilee blinks, and realizes what she's doing, suddenly. Violet eyes beam down at her impassively, as unreadable as they are spectacularly beautiful.

Why are you staring down the princess about Twilight's tendency to set things wherever of all things why is this happening agh

Okay. Relax. You can do this.

I'm just... on edge. Protective. Twilight's sick, I'm scared. And the princess just walked right in, that set me off a bit... gah, it's not even my house yet and I'm already getting territorial!

I want to impress her, too. I mean, she's the princess, and Twilight adores her, and she's so important to my girl. It would be nice to make her understand that Twilight's safe with me despite this... accident.

And Rarity was right – the princess... seems strange. So calm, so composed, even with all this... thisness going on.

It's weird.

Enviable, sort of, but... weird.

Cheerilee puts on a smile, trying to force down her hackles. She wanders over to Twilight's desk and starts rummaging through the drawers, trying to glance at Celestia now and again. "Just give me a second. I know I've seen it recently, I just need to remember where I put it... I'm sure you know what I mean."

The princess smiles, very slightly. "Not really."

"Oh, er... really?"

"I have a very good memory," Celestia says, faintly.

Cheerilee chuckles to express something, anything in response to that. Once again she has that weird sense of having heard something she didn't really understand. "That must be... convenient."

Celestia makes a gesture with her head that might be something like a shrug. "As with many things, for every benefit there is an irritation." She glances at a wardrobe, drawing Cheerilee's attention to it. "I believe you'll find the object in question on the third drawer from the top, wrapped in something."

In the princess' eyes, Cheerilee recognizes she's won a small prize by not even blinking at this.

But then she wouldn't, would she? It was amazing how Twilight just had to pause for a moment and could find things in the library. It had been a little disturbing at first, but... in a sort of...

She can do that, barely thinking about it, as if it's nothing? And still she loves little Cheerilee, common as dirt and half as magical besides.

Cheerilee smiles gently, savoring the thought, as she trots over to the the wardrobe and fishes out the bell, wrapped in one of Twilight's winter stockings. She remembers, now; it had been buried under a stack of half-finished lists on Twilight's side-table, as if it was mostly there because habit said that's where it went, not because it was important. She'd felt a bit too grown-up, like she was turning into her mother or something, when she'd immediately felt the need to protect it just because it looked old and expensive.

She turns and feels a gentle yank as the sock is pulled from her mouth in Celestia's magical control. The little bell slips out silently, its clapper held in place telekinetically. It is long and thin and slim, cast from a single piece of silver which hollowed out into a bell at one end, very much like a strange metal flower, whereas the other is adorned with a little ribbon.

Celestia stares at it, for a moment.

Looking for damage, maybe? It was probably a gift, as much as a sort of medical device.

"It's very nice," Cheerilee says, kicking herself for not finding something more substantial to say than the polite nothing.

"I'm glad you think so. I made it myself," the princess murmurs.

"Oh? You... you do good work."

"Mmm. Tolerable, anyways. I could never match White Hammer's skill at getting the notes to sound properly," the princess says, turning to Twilight. "They always turn out sharp. He always said I put too much emphasis on the aesthetics, but I was convinced I could find middle ground."

Cheerilee's eyes open wide in shock as she recognized the name from her Fine Arts lessons. White Hammer died centuries ago!

Was the bell... that old?

And she'd just jammed it in a drawer, stuffed inside a sock, because... it had just seemed like a nice thing. Nice, not precious.

Not for the first time in her life, Cheerilee turned an unbelieving look on her beloved. Sometimes she really wondered if Twilight realized how... huge some of the things in her life were. She certainly never really acted that way, and it was beginning to occur to Cheerilee that even somepony as bright as Twilight might just not think about it if she was used to being around Canterlot, drowning in history and antiquity.

After all, the princess herself did just show up at a moment's notice for her... 

Celestia gives Cheerilee a little smile and strikes the bell twice. The little instrument rings out clear, piercing notes, cutting through the still of the night. To Cheerilee's inexpert ears, they sound pure and beautiful, bright but full.

"Mmm. Sharp," Celestia says, as if it is deeply annoying to her, but her smile never fades.

On the bed, Twilight stirs, as if poked, but her expression fades from her rictus of orgasmic delight into a much more relaxed expression of deep, restful sleep. She rolls on her side, grunting as she adjusts herself...

Cheerilee's heart throbs.

There's no mistaking that Twilight, even deep in sleep, rolled to make room for Cheerilee to curl up next to her.

Celestia sets the bell on the nightstand with reverent care, smiling faintly. "She will undoubtedly sleep in very late, and will probably be extremely hungry when she wakes up. I hope that's not going to be a problem...?"

"Hmm? Oh, I'll... I'll ask Spike to close the library for the day when he gets back from Rarity's," Cheerilee says, quietly. "No problem. Everypony is sort of used to Twilight sometimes needing a day off unexpectedly."

"Oh?"

Cheerilee looks up from Twilight into Celestia's mildly curious expression, unthinkingly letting sarcasm sneak out. "When you ask her to save the world, for example...?"

Immediately her guts clench. Calm and more or less friendly she may be, but she's still the princess! Don't be so familiar!

But she needn't have worried.

"Ah, yes. I hope they can find it in themselves to forgive me," the princess says, her faint smile growing a bit wry. "It pains me to be an inconvenience."

Cheerilee tries to laugh, but it comes out as a weak, strained chuckle. "Uh, sure."

The princess looks down at Twilight for awhile longer, an expression of satisfied pleasure on her face.

"Well, then," she says, eventually, looking to Cheerilee with a patient smile. "I should return to Canterlot."

Celestia rises and makes to head for the balcony, open to the sky. She flexes her wings as she passes Cheerilee, sitting at the foot of the bed.

"Oh, um," Cheerilee says, suddenly feeling a deep guilt like a buck in the gut as she realized her rudeness. She rises and scampers after the princess. "Can I... offer you something? Coffee? Tea? It's the least I can do – coming all this way to deal with, uh, with this..."

I suppose there was never a chance to make a good first impression in these circumstances... but still.

The princess pauses, head raised.

A little flare of relieved excitement desperately tries to spread through Cheerilee's mind. Is she considering it?

"And we... er... well, Twilight did want us to meet sometime..." Cheerilee burbles, hoping that dropping the unicorn's name will ease the awkwardness a little.

Celestia turns around, and gives Cheerilee an extremely indulgent look.

"Cheerilee, I..." she begins, trailing off until she's just mouthing words, tasting them, looking for the right ones. Eventually she smiles again. "I feel that... I feel that this situation is best left behind us. You cannot possibly imagine that I don't know how Twilight ended up in that state. I have no particular desire to prolong this, do you? If for no other reason than I no longer wish to trespass on your privacy."

And there's buck number two, shame and awkardness. Right in the mare parts, ow!

"Yeah. Forget I mentioned it," Cheerilee says miserably, looking away from Celestia's slightly strained smile and blushing bright crimson.

Celestia appears to consider something for a moment. "In fact... perhaps it would be best if we just... forgot any of this ever happened, yes? While I am glad I could help, I think I would prefer to meet you under happier, and less... private circumstances," she says, giving Cheerilee a bright smile. "After all, I know Twilight wants us to meet, very badly, and further wants us to share a happy relationship. She loves you deeply. If she knew that you and I had met like this..." The princess shakes her head, amused and resigned at once.

"She'd lose her mind," Cheerilee agrees. "I... understand. I'll talk to Rarity and Spike, too."

The princess gives her a bright smile. "Then I look forward to meeting you, Cheerilee. Perhaps it ought to be sooner, rather than later, hmm?"

And before Cheerilee can rally, Celestia has already turned and leapt off the balcony, quickly diminishing into just another tiny white speck against the blackness of the heavens before winking out of sight.

Well, that was... awful.

Sure, it could have been worse, but... what couldn't?

Cheerilee shakes her head. Now that the princess isn't right there in front of her, she's not running for her life anymore, mentally, and all the little details of how terrible it all was were sneaking up on her.

The first time she meets her beloved Twilight's mentor – the pony Twilight looks up to most in the entire world – and it's because Cheerilee messed Twilight up. With sex, no less.

She'd been polite enough not to make a big deal of it, but the princess had a point – this was about the worst possible way for them to meet, and though she hadn't really given any sign of it, Cheerilee couldn't help thinking that Celestia was probably deeply embarrassed having to intrude on Twilight's sexual privacy.

Heavens above... Twilight would absolutely lose her mind if she knew. Just completely go nuts, into one of her little moments, where she got giggly and twitchy and spoke in nothing but weird exclamations.

But what really made it worse is that her ignorance of magic, and Twilight's past, had contributed to all of it.

Sure, Twilight should have told Cheerilee about the "trigger", sort of like how she had told Twilight about her allergy to bee stings. But on the other hoof, unlike bee stings, Cheerilee should have been able to guess. Think with something besides her flanks, which delighted in every pleasure Twilight could come up with, and be careful with her beloved when she was, you know, channeling tremendous mystic forces beyond Cheerilee's comprehension.

Cheerilee carefully crawled into bed next to Twilight and laid back, staring up at the ceiling.

Somehow Spike knowing about this trigger thing annoyed her, too. He'd been there back in the day, whereas Cheerilee still felt so...

New.

Even compared to Twilight's other friends – Applejack, Rarity, that crowd – Cheerilee was sort of new in Twilight's life. Unused to the big moments, and the big magic, and just... everything. Times like this made it show.

They didn't feel good.

As much as Cheerilee loved the mysteries and greatnesses of Twilight Sparkle... they were damned intimidating.

Princess Celestia just showed up for her.

Cheerilee has to sort of keep repeating it to herself because it still seems unreal to her. Almost as unreal as remembering Twilight confessing that she'd been involved with Princess Luna. Sexually involved – kissing, at least.

She'd kissed one of the princesses.

Most ponies never even saw them in the flesh, but Twilight was kissing them.

Cheerilee rolls her head to look at the back of Twilight's. The unicorn is beginning to snore, as she is prone to when she is well and truly exhausted.

She is so powerful that the princess had to install a damned on/off switch in her brain!

Cheerilee can't help herself. She reaches over and clutches Twilight to herself desperately.

Who are you? I love you, so much, but... 

A tear leaks from her eye, and she hisses a curse.

You're something way beyond me, Twi.

It's really starting to show.
> Was, Is, and Will Be
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                                                     


The words are spelled properly, but there's just something about them that makes Cheerilee unable to divorce them from the thick country accent of their author.

My essay about the history of Apple family history,

by,

Apple Bloom

Cheerilee rolls her eyes and makes a quick motion with her head to correct the punctuation and the excess 'history'. It was strange how somepony could speak perfectly plain Equestrian, but put a quill in their teeth and suddenly they had all the eloquence of a manticore.

For example: something about that filly would just never get the hang of... titling, and this was a painfully obvious example. The Apples actually had a family name, for one thing; she should count herself lucky.

And it had so much potential! The Roots of the Apple Tree. Our Apple Orchard. Apples from Ambrosia to... 

To...

"Twi, honey?"

Twilight looks up from the smelly, ancient tome she's been poring over and glances across the table over her reading glasses. "Hmmm?"

Cheerilee chuckles weakly. "Well, now I feel silly for asking, but do you know of any apples whose name begin with Z?"

"Pony Apple or eating apple?"

"Either, in this case."

Twilight purses her lips and rolls her eyes upwards, almost parodically thoughtful. "Now that you mention it, no, I can't. I could look it up for you, if you like – I think I have a copy of Morningdew's Complete Flowering Trees and Shrubs of South-Western Equestria around here somewhere..."

Cheerille laughs brightly. "No! No, don't worry about it. It's not important."

"Why do you ask, then?"

"No reason." Cheerilee looks back down at the essay and feels her face fall into a glum expression. "Just attempting the impossible."

"Oh?"

"Trying to teach Apple Bloom to be a poet," Cheerilee says, grinning humorlessly at '...and once upon a time I guess we were wandering seed merchants? I dont know what that means relly but theres a broken cart behind the barn that the pigs sleeped in and it says APPLE SEEDS on.'

Twilight looks at her incredulously for a moment, then looks down at her notes and taps them. "I just wrote the sentence 'The aetheric transduction is governed across six principal vectors and two vertice interactions', in all seriousness. So... why do I suddenly think you have the harder job, between us?"

Because my job involves being dragged through bad old memories?

She barely has to read the essay, after all. She knows the Apple family history; Granny Smith had happily rambled it out for her several times. After all, as Granny had said, if she was going to marry young Macintosh someday, she would need to know where the in-laws came from.

"We could use a few more good Apples around here," Granny says, winking. Cheerilee smiles, her heart only slightly troubled by the implication... 

Cheerilee rubs her temple. "I shouldn't be so... mmm. I'm always saying things like that about her. It's uncharitable of me."

"You've known Apple Bloom since she was a newborn. I'd be shocked if you weren't a little... you know, watching out for her a bit." Twilight gives her an encouraging smile. "They're not exactly an academic household. Not that that's, uh, bad, just... they aren't."

Cheerilee huffs a little laugh. "No. No they are not."

"And it's not like she doesn't call it on herself all the time," Twilight continues, waving a hoof. They both know quite well she's slightly forcing her cheerful, joking tone for Cheerilee's benefit, but that's fine. "Every time somepony tells me that Ponyville used to be so quiet before I showed up, I want to say: Excuse me? You're blaming me? Do you live in some universe where Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom have their cutie marks already? Because if you do, where do I sign up?"

They both laugh at this. Spike, snoozing in a basket in the corner of the library floor, gives out a audible "heh" and rolls over.

"Still, though," Cheerilee says, frowning as she continues to scan the essay. "With all the trouble Mac's getting into with your friends –"

"Our friends," Twilight corrects, in very definite tones.

Cheerilee smiles indulgently. In truth, she only really knows Rarity well of Twilight's friends – well, she knows Applejack, too, but that was a relationship best described as 'polite', because 'strained' made it sound worse than it really was. Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie... not so well.

Whether it was possible to know Pinkie Pie well was a reasonable question, of course, but...

Anyways.

"Sorry, dear. With our friends." Her smile fades. " With all that going on... I guess..."

Twilight pulls off her glasses and hastens over to her beloved's side, wrapping a hoof around her shoulders gently. "Hey, hey..."

Cheerilee positions herself more fully into the embrace. "I'm sorry, it's just digging up old bones. And old pottery. And some statues that nopony understands, but if you put them on your head, they turn your mane green..."

"That actually happened once, you know," Twilight says, seriously.

"I do know," Cheerilee replies, and kisses her gently on the nose.

Twilight giggles, always delighted to not be the only one who's heard of strange things in strange places.

She isn't the only one who's read a book or two in her time, now is she?

Cheerilee looks up and around the library, taking it all in for the hundredth time. It has changed so many times over her life that it sometimes did to make sure she was still in the same place.

The shelves. The decorations. The little personal touches like the pictures on the wall of Twilight and her friends. The stairs to the second floor. The little lectern and writing desk, which was currently occupied by Twilight's slumbering pet owl.

Twenty years ago, as a filly, this had been where she went to find new places and new worlds between the covers of a good book. Ten years ago, as a young mare, it had been where she pursued her dreams, which lay at the University in distant Canterlot.

Dreams which had gotten... complicated, what with one thing and another.

Still, despite everything she had found her way back here and now this wonderful place is her home, in every way. Somepony had already started moving into her rental unit down the road, and she fully intends to warn them about the way you had to buck the radiator to make it work in the winter when she had a free moment.

Upstairs, her grandmother's bed had replaced the slim, ancient slab that Twilight had somehow endured since she moved here. A second nightstand stood on the opposite side of Twilight's. A private bookshelf occupied the space under a window.

Home. Hers.

But even how wonderful these last two weeks have been hadn't stopped her... thinking.

Remembering that feeling of being completely helpless, and somepony out of Twilight's past just wandering in, fixing everything with the ring of a bell, and flying off suggesting they pretend it never happened. Like it wasn't important.

And that pony was the princess!

Come on!

And of course Twilight's on-and-off obliviousness had taken this opportunity to be firmly off. Cheerilee almost wished she could have just let this dark cloud pass her by without Twilight noticing, but then she wouldn't have gotten all those extra snuggles.

Twilight presses her muzzle against Cheerilee's neck, giving her a long, slow kiss before pulling away again. "Is that what's been been bothering you? All that stuff going on with Macintosh?"

Cheerilee's eyes flicker, momentarily, to the stack of books where Twilight had been working on her presentation for the convention of the Equestrian Society of Invokers and Associated Magical Practitioners in Manehattan next month.

She nods. "Mmm." Not quite yes, but that's part of the whole truth, so...

Twilight raises a hoof to her chin and draws Cheerilee's gaze to her own gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"You've heard it all already, Twi. Just an old scar being sore."

Twilight clicks her tongue and hums sympathy as she leans forward and pecks Cheerilee's cheek. "I'm sorry. I can ask everypony to keep you out of it if you want –"

"No! No, no. I'm... I think I need to be there for anypony who needs me," Cheerilee says, quickly. A moment of pain makes her close her eyes. "I... flatter myself to believe I was important in his life, once. He certainly was important for me. If somepony needs my... help, I don't know... I should be there."

She is relieved – grateful – that Twilight doesn't say anything, just reaches out and gently holds one of Cheerilee's hooves in her own for a few heartbeats.

They've been here before, and will be here again.

"Heavens, sorry," Cheerilee says, quietly, opening her eyes again. "It's just been getting to me."

Twilight is strangely still. Her expression is sympathetic, but her eyes are alert, watching Cheerilee's carefully.

She's hard to fool, sometimes.

My clever, genius Twilight. Oh, how I love you. Oh, how you torture me... 

"There's something else," Twilight whispers, her eyes trailing away to the books before snapping back. "Isn't there, Cheerilee."

It's not a question; it's a statement which strikes as very parental. Disappointed, not accusatory.

In memory, beautiful, perfect lips form words that have felt like shackles for weeks.

I feel this situation is best left behind us, Cheerilee.

"Yes," Cheerilee responds in an equal hush.

They hold the pose for a moment, Twilight squeezing Cheerilee's hoof.

"Spike!" Twilight barks, suddenly, more for the volume than the tone.

"Wha – huh!?" the dragon mutters, spasming awkwardly in his basket until he is something resembling upright. "Uh, yeah? What's up?"

"Give us a minute, would you?"

The dragon slithers upright. "Yeah, sure. Like, 'down in my room' give you a minute, or –"

Cheerilee clears her throat. "Why don't you see if the Cutie Mark Crusaders are doing something interesting, Spike? They've been spending a lot of time whispering to each other lately."

Never good. Heavens above, am I neck-deep and sinking in troubles... 

Spike grins. "Sure. Think they're at the treehouse?"

"I would assume so," Cheerilee says, eyes locked on Twilight's. They're beautiful and terrible, all at once.

They turn, as one pony, to watch Spike eagerly hustle off. The door slams behind him in his eagerness, any hint he understood what he was being asked lost in his happiness to find his friends.

Cheerilee stares at the door, chewing her lip unhappily.

"And now, I think," Twilight murmurs, "now you're going to tell me how you knew to do something I'm almost certain you couldn't have known about."

Cheerilee's heart freezes. She briefly considers lying, or expressing ignorance...

No. Not to her. Not to Twilight. Not ever.

Princess... did you know what you were doing to me?

Twilight sighs heavily before she wrangles herself into place, interrupting her thoughts. "You need to understand... I know what happened. I know what happened to me, and why. After all... I asked for it," the unicorn says, letting Cheerilee's hoof go. "I lost control, once, and... it scared me."

"Twilight, I –"

"Let me finish," Twilight says, raising a hoof to stop Cheerilee. "Please. I... need to get this out."

Cheerilee hangs her head. "Okay."

"I'm not proud of the trigger, Cheerilee. The princess is very nice, and never talks about it like this, but... it's like rubber sheets, for foals who have... problems," Twilight says, pain biting hard in her tone as she looks away from Cheerilee uncomfortably.

Immediately, Cheerilee moves to embrace her, but Twilight shrugs her off.

It hurts. It really hurts.

Silence reigns in the library for a while, contrasting heavily with the cheerful light of late evening spilling in through the windows. Not for the first time in her life, Cheerilee scrambles for something to say, something neat and perfect that will comfort and apologize and just fix things, all at once.

In her memory, Mac sends her away. Twilight grows distant and strange. College friends who've seen her be too wild, too lost in the moment, walk away...

For someone who loves words, Cheerilee's spent her fair share of time unable to find any good ones.

Her rumination is interrupted by Twilight hissing out a breath, forcing herself to speak again.

"I always have a headache afterwards. It's very... distinctive, you know? It hurts right in the back of my head, which is pretty unusual. So I can always tell." Twilight looks up at Cheerilee. "I know I should have told you, but... it's embarrassing. I thought – no, that's not right. I wanted to believe it wouldn't be a problem. I wanted you... I wanted you to think I was better than that. In control. Not like a little foal who can't keep her horn in line. It hasn't happened in years, not since I was in Canterlot."

Oh, heavens above and earth below, preserve your daughter in her time of need... 

Cheerilee fights down a whimper of humiliation. "Twilight, I... you're so... it was my fault, I –"

Twilight raises a hoof to Cheerilee's chest, her breathing labored by hurt. "There were three possibilities," she says, closing her eyes, audibly taking refuge in logical extrapolation. "First, that you somehow figured out that the bell was important, but that's a stretch. I never told you, and somewhat by design there's no reason to suspect it's anything important. Second, that Spike had told you – or that you had completely lost your mind and dragged him into our bedroom." She opens her eyes and locks them on Cheerilee's, expression serious. "Ours. I'm not mad, I just... want to talk."

"Okay," Cheerilee says, weakly.

"So... Spike. Based on how he reacted when I asked him about it, I doubt he was the one who told you about my... problem, but if he's good at keeping things quiet I'll eat my own horn. He knew something, but didn't want to tell me, which meant somepony important had told him not to tell," Twilight continues. Her voice catches in her throat, and she looks away again for a moment. "And my parents and brother were too far away, in Canterlot, to be here and gone before the night was over. There's only one pony who could have told you on the very same night I... I..." She trails off, miserably. "When it happened."

There is no meaningful response. Cheerilee lets a pained whine emerge from her lips, hating herself for her weakness but unable to imagine anything better to say.

Twilight looks up, her eyes filled with pain. "I... I trusted that you had a reason for not telling me," she whispers. "And I've let you keep it to yourself. But I think I'd like to hear about this from you. I'm not mad, I'm really not. You don't even have to say who was here if you don't want to; just tell me why you want to keep it to yourself. That's all I want."

Stop it. Stop breaking yourself just to seem wise and reasonable, my love. Hurt at me; it's better than pretending you're not terrified.

"Oh, Twilight, don't do that to me," Cheerilee moans. "Of course she was here..."

She.

They don't even have to refer to her by name – that's how this is. Twilight's wound herself up about the meeting that there's only need for one dreadful syllable. She. Her. The Princess.

Twilight shudders. Visibly shudders, as if something awful had happened in front of her. "Of course she was," she says, chuckling humorlessly. "How did you get in touch with her?"

"I –" Cheerilee begins, but then she realizes what she's done and claps a hoof over her mouth, muffling her voice. "Oh, Twilight. Oh, I'm so sorry. I was so scared..."

"What?"

"I panicked. I sent Spike for Rarity, because I didn't know if it was just a unicorn thing. She saw you. She didn't know exactly what had happened, but she knew it was something about your magic. I'm so sorry."

Twilight's sudden grimace of embarrassment is too much. Cheerilee looks away, guts churning.

Ignorant, stupid, foolish mare... !

"I suppose I'll have to talk to her about it, then," Twilight says, reluctance dripping off every word. "Just so that she knows it's something she doesn't need to mention in passing."

"Oh, heavens, Twilight, I'm... I'm so sorry."

Twilight shuts her eyes and takes a couple deep breaths in the way Cheerilee knows to mean she's grasping her emotions firmly and picking her words with care. "Don't be. I brought it on myself. You did the right thing..." she trails off, bringing a hoof to her head and making a stressed little noise in the back of her throat. "Oh, this is so messed up."

Cheerilee slumps in her seat and stares down at Apple Bloom's essay, more for something to do with her eyes than anything else.

My big Brother Macintosh has, taken care of me since I was little

She sets it aside, resisting the urge crush it into a ball and throw it away. It needs to be handed back with corrections, after all.

Maybe someday she'd get the hang of relationships. If she was really, really lucky, it would be at least an hour or two before she died so at least her last moments could be spent spared these sorts of problems.

She is surprised to feel a warm weight lean onto her gently, and looks down at the head on her shoulder. Twilight is staring off into the distance, looking harassed and anxious.

This time, she doesn't shrug off Cheerilee's tentative embrace, and that in itself is a small measure of salvation.

"Why didn't you tell me she was here, Cheerilee?" Twilight whispers.

Because I was scared. Humiliated.

Because it made you feel millions of miles away from me again, for just a second.

Because... 

I don't think she likes me, and I don't even want to know what you would do if I even hinted I'd messed things up with her that badly. I don't even know why I think it.

But of the truths, Cheerilee chooses the smallest. The one that seems easiest to deal with.

"Because she asked me not to," Cheerilee murmurs.

Twilight sits bolt upright, struggling against Cheerilee's embrace. "What? No. No, no, no. She wouldn't. She always –"

And then she stops, holding Cheerilee's gaze.

The denial was reflexive, instinctual, as if Cheerilee had said in perfect sobriety that Ponyville was better off when Discord had turned it into a mind-bending riot of nonsense physics and dairy-based weather. If almost anypony else had said this to Twilight, it was perfectly clear from her tone that she flat-out wouldn't have believed them.

Twilight's jaw drops slightly as her brow furrows. "You're... you're not... you're serious, aren't you."

"Absolutely," Cheerilee says. "I think she was embarassed, to tell you the truth."

"Embarrassed? By – by the, er, situation?" Twilight asks, blushing despite her serious tone.

Cheerilee is momentarily amused by the stark contrast between Twilight at rest and the almost predatory creature she sometimes finds in her bed, but she tries not to show it. "Wouldn't you be?"

"Well, yes, but I'm not her," Twilight says, giving Cheerilee a slightly more patronizing look than she probably meant to. "Cheerilee. Honey. We're talking about a pony who sat down and peacefully listened to me confess everything I did when I was... you know, learning. About love, and, er, related activities. I mean, some of that was with her sister."

"I'm just saying, she... she said that it wasn't..." Cheerilee frowns. "She just wanted to be gone, I think. She said it was a bad situation, that we should forget about it and meet each other 'for the first time' in better circumstances."

Twilight says nothing, merely looking anxious for a moment.

"What is it?"

"The first time she really got to know the girls – I mean, really got to know them – we had just crashed the Grand Galloping Gala, trashed the Great Hall, the grounds, and the state room of the palace, and personally attacked a bunch of really important ponies," Twilight says, softly.

"I remember that," Cheerilee murmurs.

"She found us out in the town; I thought she'd be furious, or at least have some serious talking to do. But instead she sat down and spent an hour or so laughing with us about how horrible everypony at the Gala was before setting us up in a suite at the Sun and Moon. At like three AM."

She just showed up for Twilight, Cheerilee's mind reminds her. She laughed with them into the red eye of the morning... 

"I only found out later how much work she went through afterward because of the trouble we'd caused; it must have been a huge headache for her. But right then, in that moment, she came and checked on us. Made sure we weren't scared or upset. That's how she is, Cheerilee. I can't imagine her telling anypony to just... forget something, because it's awkward. Shes laughs, or comforts, even when she's angry – believe me." Twilight says, sternly.

Cheerilee can't decide if the conflicted look in Twilight's eyes, as she wars between her trust in her new love and her absolute confidence in the Princess, is frightening or deeply touching.

Ah, but there was one more little fire to stamp out.

"We were worried about how you'd react, too," she says.

Twilight closes her eyes and sighs heavily through her nose. "You mean you were worried about –"

"No, Twilight, we," Cheerilee says, desperate for Twilight to believe her.

The truth was that while she was sometimes wary of how unbelievably unshakable Twilight's affection for her mentor was – quite often, recently – her reluctance to just accept that Cheerilee was telling the straight truth in this moment had long passed that and was starting to border on extremely hurtful.

"Cheerilee, if she was worried about how I'd react, she would have stayed here until I woke up!" Twilight almost shouts. "She would have stayed with you, and talked about what you should say, and when I got up she would have just... been there. It wouldn't have been the first time, believe me. It's just how she is!"

"I didn't mean –"

"You don't understand," Twilight moans. She pulls away from Cheerilee, her face pained. "She's always... there. She doesn't just leave and she never, ever hides things from me." Twilight looks up into Cheerilee's eyes, and the elder mare gasps at how confused and hurt Twilight is. "I want to believe you, Cheerilee, but what you're saying just doesn't make any sense. It's not like her at all."

Cheerilee... stops.

She can feel the pulse of this conversation. She can almost see Twilight's powerful mind starting to turn inwards on itself, trapped between her love and faith in Cheerilee and... whatever she felt about Celestia. Adoration, borderline worship, it seemed sometimes. Trusting to the point that it sometimes seemed irrational...

Except that it seemed like her faith was always, always rewarded.

She just... showed up for Twilight.

Now wasn't that strange. Nopony else could expect that kind of divine intervention.

Hmm.

That wasn't important right now, though. Right now her beloved Twilight was in pain, and needed to calm down before she got a little out of control.

But then, Cheerilee was very good at dealing with this. Usually she had twenty wayward little ponies to wrangle, all at once, and some of them didn't even like her all that much.

But I'll buck every field in Sweet Apple Acres myself if they don't damn well listen anyways. It's all about knowing what approach to use... 

Cheerilee forces a smile, and sighs in a way that suggests weary resignation. "You know what, honey? I think you're right."

Twilight looks up, sharply. "What?"

"I think... you know what I think?" Cheerilee says, in a very carefully controlled voice. "I think that the princess was trying to be respectful of me."

Twilight scoots back closer to Cheerilee with a curious expression on her face, and sniffles. "Huh?"

"I was so embarrassed, Twilight, and I was so scared for you... I bet it was written on my face in big letters. She was just trying to spare me any more stress, is all. And I was... you know, I was saying how I was so upset that I couldn't take care of you myself..."

A bit of a fib, yes, but those words hadn't been expressed openly mostly because her mouth had been too full of her own hooves.

Twilight reaches out and puts her forehooves on Cheerilee's. "Oh, Cheerilee... oh, I'm so sorry. I've only been thinking of myself..."

"Hey, now. You had a lot of really good reasons to, honey," Cheerilee says, reaching up to pull Twilight into a tight hug. "You know, in a way, maybe the princess was trying to give me some space, you know? After all, you've... never had somepony with you before..."

"Hmm?" Twilight humms, pulling back to give Cheerilee a pointed look.

"Oh, nothing."

Damn your beautiful brain! Stop noticing things when it's inconvenient!

"You know, if you were that upset... she'd probably want to talk..." Twilight says, trying to seem suspicious despite Cheerilee knowing very well that she was almost beside herself with relief and just wanted to hug and let her worry pass.

Cheerilee leans forward and kisses Twilight on the forehead, letting her nose brush up against Twilight's horn very slightly so that the unicorn shivered a happy little shiver in her arms.

Twilight's not the only one with moves.

"Oh, I think she's being very generous with me. You know? Giving me a second chance at a first impression – after all, I didn't have much choice this time. I needed her to show up, even though I was so embarrassed I made a complete foal of myself." She kisses Twilight again, and revels in the little humm of happiness she gives off. "As you figured out, clever girl."

"Mmm. Maybe. It's still a little weird, though."

Don't think I'll forget it, my love... 

Cheerilee gently motions for Twilight to roll around so that she is laying against Cheerilee's chest, the elder mare wrapping her arms around Twilight and nuzzling her neck from behind. They sit like this for a good long while, just enjoying the feeling of each other's body.

She was going to have to meet Celestia again. There was no way that she could be a part of Twilight Sparkle's life without being necessarily involved with the Princess.

But there was something going on; Cheerilee could feel it lingering on the edges of events, deforming them. An eminence gris that was far more than an excuse to explain away the plot of a spy thriller novel with a lot of exposition right at the end. Something more than she, and probably even Twilight understood.

For now.

This conversation had gone in a very different direction than she'd thought it would. She had expected to be apologizing for insulting the princess and being unable to follow through on her gentle suggestion that Cheerilee keep things to herself, not...

That's just not like her!

Twilight had almost screamed it, as if it was unthinkable.

Some ponies made the mistake of thinking that things said in distress were somehow less true or rational than those made in sobriety, when the speaker had a clear mind capable of obscuring matters with politenesses and caution. A stressed mind is focused, in a way, although not necessarily on the thing truly at the root of the stress. The deeper hurt had to be teased out sometimes. Working with foals had ground this wisdom into Cheerilee deep, until it was written on the bone.

"Zap Apples," Twilight says, interrupting Cheerilee's musing.

Cheerilee stirs, looking down at the unicorn, who's still staring off into the distance at nothing in particular. "What?"

"Apples that start with Z. Zap Apples. I can't believe I forgot; they're Ponyville's own special crop..."

Cheerilee just squeezes Twilight and smiles gently.


• • •


The quill dances in the air momentarily as Celestia considers her reply.

She does consider it – and she has always felt that doing so was important. Just dismissing this sort of thing, disregarding the thought and emotion that was put into it... unconscionable. Even if she more often than not said more or less the same thing, each time she was composing a unique message. It may the thousandth upon thousandth time for her, but it was generally the first time for each sender.

The desk and table next to her writing lectern are laden with this week's correspondence. Laden – yes, that was the right word. Laden like a cart set to market, or on a pioneering train to Appleloosa in the west, its timbers creaking under the entirety of a family's worldly possessions.

Being a princess was not for the faint-hearted. That much was beyond doubt at this point.

Usually, she picked away at the pile slowly over the week, turning the slurry into something like a reasonable day-to-day pace, enjoying a routine of sorting, considering, and replying in whatever order suited her at the moment. But for whatever reason, today the bags left at her study door had seemed very pressing. She'd been at it all day – and frankly, right this very second she was enjoying this mild break from state business. It was, in its own gentle way, much more important in any case.

"Ah," she murmurs, and smiles faintly.

While I am honored by your invitation, Dinky Doo, I'm afraid that I will be unable to attend your tea party next Wednesday. I sincerely hope my absence will not be too troublesome for you, so as a small measure of apology I have included a measure of my own favorite mint tea that should serve you and your guests a pot or two. I hope you enjoy it.

Yours respectfully,

Princess Celes

She's being watched.

A twitch of an ear is the only immediate, instinctive reaction – and even that is an immense show for Celestia, and she curses the distress it betrays, the loss of control and slip of composure. It's just been so long since there was anypony hanging around powerful enough to take her by surprise...

Unbidden, her mind remembers the last time somepony even tried. A little purple filly, who'd gotten her hooves on a book slightly more advanced than she was ready for... but she did so want to be seen to be pushing herself...

Celestia pauses her writing and raises her head from the parchment on her writing desk, not turning to face the slight distortion in the world suggesting the astral presence of the Princess of the Moon. "Is there something you wanted?"

Unsaid, but apparent in her voice: How long have you been there? Why are you here? Why give yourself away now?

What are you scheming, Luna of the Moon... ?

But Luna doesn't bother acknowledging the rare show of mild irritation, and the hollow, ethereal voice of her projected self is heavy with amusement. "Are you often invited to such... lauded events?"

It's not even contempt, and that's what annoys Celestia.

Not for the first time, the phrase catlike pokes at her mind – if it's not food or something to toy with, it's outside Luna's immediate universe and thus uninteresting, but she might deign to acknowledge its existence, in a show of supreme generosity, if it was occupying the attention of somepony she wanted to talk to at the moment.

Once, Luna would have delighted in the innocence and earnestness of the foal's request. Perhaps even attended, on a whim, and playfully taken the whole affair dreadfully seriously. But now she's so... col–

No.

Not cold.

Celestia suppresses a wince. Luna could never be cold again, compared to... what she had been, once.

Just... catlike. Dark.

Still... that was disturbing enough.

"Tea parties can be important formative events for young foals," she says matter-of-factly, forcing her voice into obedience. "Their first forays into organized, planned, social events. A filly or colt can learn quite a bit about the importance of organization and discretion –"

"Enough, enough!" Luna says, her words filled with her melodious laughter. As ever, its beauty confuses whether it is amused or mocking. "Your point is well-taken. My question stands."

Celestia sighs. "Once in a great while."

"Perhaps you're not considered an amusing houseguest... ?"

Now Celestia turns, to give Luna's spectral form the unamused look she'd earned for this little needle. Luna's own reputation as a party guest – at least, what it had been at one time – was not a matter for foals at all.

Celestia sighs through a faint frown. "My question stands as well, sister. Is there something you needed?"

Luna's shade makes an offended gesture. "Am I not allowed to check up on my beloved Celestia, when the mood strikes me?"

"Have I done aught to concern you?"

"Do I really need a particular reason?"

For a moment, Celestia holds her tongue lest she say something she doesn't really mean, something laden with hurtful implications about violating trust and breaching privacy.

Once, such thoughts would have been unimaginable – but the offense would have been, too. Once, Luna would not have... skulked.

But that was a long time ago now.

She turns back to the letter, finishing her signature carefully and rolling up the scroll. "Of course not."

Luna says nothing as Celestia pulls up the next letter, this one a request for some advice from one of the academy lectors about next semester's curriculum. Celestia tries to focus on it with Luna's gaze itching the back of her neck, and eventually sets it aside, making a mental note to find the pony in question the next day to discuss the matter.

"As it happens, though, I am here on more than a whim," Luna says, idly, as the next letter flies to Celestia's lectern.

This one is from the Civic Assembly in Baltimare, asking for a contingent of Royal Guardsponies to train the professional police force they're setting up. Celestia scribbles a brief note on it and sets it on a nearby pile that would be sitting on Shining Armor's desk before the sun rose next. "Oh?"

The shadows in the room before her swirled and reformed, and the shade of Luna frowned at her. "There was that special Canterlot Symphony Orchestra recital in the gardens this evening."

"I know."

"That cellist you like, the earth pony – she was playing first chair again."

Next, a report from the Treasury – just routine, though. A formal letter informing her that they were retiring and reminting a series of old bits.

"I'm glad to hear it; I know she's had hard times lately. I was sorry to hear she'd fallen out with her lady friend..."

"Who is a passable violinist, it transpires. They played a lovely duet, although I am myself unfamiliar with the composer – "

Celestia looks up sharply. "It was Perfect Pitch's Pavane for Cello and Violin in C Sharp, opus 63. I could hear it from here. They are truly talented and we're blessed to have them; furthermore, I am happy they've apparently found some peace together," she says, rattling the statements off like she's checking them off a list. "Is there some reason you're taunting me with being unable to attend?"

"Ah, right. Important state business, of course," Luna says, as if in revelation. "Like Ms. Doo's request."

She doesn't intend to be sharp, but Luna's attitude about the poor little filly is bothering Celestia deeply.

"And the Chancellor of the Exchequer's. And Prima Felda of the griffons' latest little note reminding me how annoying she can be about airspace when Cloudsdale Flight Academy is in season. And catching up on my personal correspondence with, among other ponies, you."

She's being... small, she knows, but she pulls a roll of parchment from the stack of completed missives and unrolls it for Luna's inspection nevertheless. "Or did you not want this list of notable novels of the last couple decades... ? I have even marked my personal favorites, as you requested, look..."

Luna's momentary discomfort at being reminded that she was taunting somepony she'd asked a favor of gives Celestia a petty little pleasure deep down, and she immediately hates herself for feeling it.

In fact, she hates everything about this situation.

Once again, we find ourselves face to face on the proverbial bridge only wide enough for one pony to cross at a time. Beneath us, crushing torrents; before us, an obstacle.

One pony must back down or both are lost.

She sighs. "Sister, please. I am just trying to get some work done."

The shadow of Luna looks away, and Celestia knows that if her sister were there in the flesh there'd be no word for her but "sulking". "I merely thought you were... looking forward to it. That was impression when you mentioned it last week, in any case."

Celestia just gestures to the open windows.

"That is not the same at all."

"I am ashamed to say that you are absolutely correct. But –"

"Once upon a time you told me that letters and books stay written, but moments pass like water over a riverbed," Luna interrupts, pointing an accusatory ethereal hoof.

A pause. A long pause, and those do not happen by accident between the royal sisters.

One pony must back down... 

"I did say that," Celestia allows.

"Well? I went."

Celestia blinks. "I didn't realize you intended to. You didn't seem that interested."

"It was... somewhat on impulse. I..." Luna's shade cocks its head. "Well, my intent is no longer important. I enjoyed it immensely," she adds, a shade defiantly, as if daring Celestia to doubt it.

"I'm glad," Celestia says, watching the shade carefully.

So... she wanted to be seen with me, hmm? An attempt to curry favor, perhaps... building up to some request, I'll warrant. No, no... don't be paranoid. Maybe she's just trying to be more... visible – 

She is interrupted in her thoughts by a twinkling sound and a familiar, rolling puff of green smoke. Celestia instinctively snatches the roll of parchment as it drops out of the air in an act now so practiced that she had once done it in the middle of a meeting without realizing it, and started reading despite the fact that Fancy Pants was still mid-drone.

Luna's spectral form relaxes a little, hints of a smug grin playing across the shadows passing for her face. "Now here is some important correspondence indeed. Another tea party invitation, perhaps..."

Celestia frowns at her –

And realizes she's already opening the letter.

It's a reflex. It really is just automatic.

But frankly... Twilight's letters, recently... well...

It wasn't going to be an emergency. It so very rarely was, and it was usually apparent when – there wouldn't be a neat bow sealing the scroll for one thing.

She'd overreacted when Cheerilee had called on her, and Celestia's only relief was that Luna didn't know, or she'd hear no end of it.

She sighs, re-seals the scroll with the little purple ribbon Twilight has taken to binding her letters with lately – an affectation she'd developed after Spike had accidentally sent Celestia one of Cheerilee's lesson plans – and sets it aside.

Another pebble on the mountain she must traverse even if, to extend the metaphor slightly, that would be calling a jewel a pebble. Twilight's letters were always a pleasure, after all... why not save it for last?

Yes.

That would be nice.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Luna's shade fidget uncomfortably. "What?"

"Aren't you going to read it?"

Celestia looks at it and smiles a gentle little smile. "Oh, I wouldn't dare not," she says, trying to sound dead serious. "Given the content of some of the letters from that particular correspondent, it's entirely possible Ponyville is on fire or something of that nature. But then again, I know the matter is in good hooves."

The shadows serving as a vague embodiment of Luna's wings move in a strange, stilted gesture of discomfort, which sets the darkness rolling across itself, barely noticeable but somehow obvious, like water moving over glass. "Pray don't mind me... "

Celestia just gives her an impatient little look and picks up the next scroll.

Ah, Nimbus Chaser, head of the Weather Service. I wonder, which of your ponies are you covering for this time... ?

She unrolls the scroll and –

"I'll give you some privacy, if that's what you prefer –"

"Luna, honestly!" Celestia says, dropping the letter and turning back to the shadow, which has become faded and indistinct. "Is there something the matter?"

The shadow is dark, save for the three blue lights that betray Luna's presence. She's standing – staring.

A dreadful insight suddenly prowls into Celestia's mind.

"Is there something you're hoping she'll have to say to me?" she asks, as calmly as she can manage. "Or perhaps... something you hope she won't say... ?

What have you been scheming, little sister? If you've been anywhere near them, I'll – 

She closes her eyes and carefully analyzes her thoughts. Control, self-control – the greatest and most priceless virtue of an immortal.

I'll... be irritated.

They deserve a life free of meddling.

"I... merely..." Luna says, before reforming more clearly. "Forgive me. I am just used to you being very eager to read her letters. I was, when... well. When I was among her correspondents."

"Yes, well, least said, soonest mended on that subject, hmm?" Celestia says, perhaps a bit more irritably than she meant to.

Luna remains still and silent. Chastened, perhaps, but on a face that's only half-real and made of flickering shadows in any case, it's hard to tell.

Celestia gives her sister a little smile, trying to convey that all is well, but forgiven is not forgotten. "To be perfectly honest, I have been waiting on this letter, yes. Twilight has been preparing her notes for a presentation to the Society of Invokers, and she has been asking me for advice now and again. I'm sure she's just thanking me for loaning her Longshank's Principia Evanesco et Adpareo."

Celestia picks up the letter from Nimbus Chaser with every appearance of seriousness and reads it primly, making a note on a nearby scroll of things to do tomorrow, and picks up the next letter.

It's from the Foal's Hospital in Greenway, which she visited recently when some medicine at Canterlot General had needed to be there much faster than a train could move...

Her eyes roll over the salutation, but don't read it. She blinks her irritation and restarts, trying to force herself to pay attention.

And again.

She sighs, and looks up. Two gleaming blue flames which hint at being eyes look back at her, their intangibility making it impossible to read them... as Luna well knows.

For a moment, Celestia almost regrets helping her figure out how to do this. It had all seemed so fun, back then.

But this was now.

"Luna. Was there anything else?"

The shadows whirl and blur. "Forgive me for intruding on your work, sister. I merely wished to see if there was anything in particular occupying your attention this evening, such that you are... "

The voice fades into silence, although in its strange mystic way, it lingers in the air like smoke.

"I am... what?"

"I merely wonder why you remain in your tower, while the daylight lingers," Luna says, her ethereal gaze straying to the letter from Twilight before snapping back to lock Celestia in a fierce glare. "That bottle of wine is still waiting."

And with that, the blue lights of her being snuff out and she is gone.

Celestia frowns and huffs irritation.

Luna has always enjoyed putting on a show, she reminds herself. She loves being seen to be wise and mystic, delights in secret knowledge and scandalous secrets; and she knew as well as anypony that sometimes she could get a lot more by implying she knew things and finding out what got a reaction.

Her game would become apparent in time; Celestia would outlast her, just going about her business until Luna tangled herself in her own webs of pointless, petty scheming and needed big sister to untangle her again. It would be far from the first time, after all...

Heavens alone knew, of course, but perhaps it would provide them some common ground to reconnect a little bit.

Celestia smiles, faintly.

That... that would be nice.

She picks up the letter from Greenway and begins reading it.

On the far side of the stack, the letter from Twilight goes unheeded, though it nags for her attention. She hadn't lied to Luna – she wouldn't let it go unread. But why not save the pleasure for last? After all, given the nature of Twilight's work it was entirely possible that she'd have to lay down and sleep on the contents before responding.

They would be... precise questions, after all. Specific. Parsed well and carefully planned to get at everything Twilight wanted some input about.

Technical in the extreme.

Questions from a brilliant student to her doting teacher about the deep mysteries of making the universe do what you wanted it to instead of turning everything orange and giving you a headache.

There'd be a lot of... specifics, to consider.

And it would end with a thank you.

Business, in a word. Twilight was so admirably professional. Very good at keeping her personal life separate from her work when she was focused... it was actually sort of funny, sometimes.

She'd get all wrapped up in what she was doing, and forget that the world around her even existed. Ponyville, her friends, the Library, Spike...

Cheerilee...

All of it forgotten in the face of the great mysteries of magic. Her great work.

The place where Celestia fit in her life.

Celestia smiled. She was looking forward to it.

Honestly, she was.


• • •


Intimacy.

Once upon a time – too short a time, perhaps – if somepony had managed to get her to express her true feelings on the matter, Cheerilee would have scoffed at the idea that there was some special closeness associated with sex.

She'd had her share of it over the years, and frankly, the silver-shine of romanticism had tarnished quickly. She would have nodded in a self-satisfied sort of way and privately congratulated herself on letting go of the fantasy, pleased to have seen past the smoke and mirrors so young.

Sex (she would have said) was, in the end, just bodies doing pleasant things to each other. It happened, it ended, and it was sort of overestimated in its importance to a relationship. Cheerilee knew firsthand how sex really didn't confirm anything, after all...

But that was before Twilight Sparkle.

That first night had been... special. Sexy and fun as all get out, of course, deeply colored by the thrill of being with another mare, of exploration and the strangely intoxicating sensation of just totally throwing herself into something despite being very nervous about it and what it meant. But there had been more than one new experience besides feeling curves under her hooves rather than a stallion's hard muscles...

For Cheerilee, intimacy was feeling closer to her lover afterwards than she did during.

Lying in somepony else's arms and reveling in just being there, together, not feeling like things were finished and done with because the physical action of sex had ceased, as if it were some sort of transaction.

Not feeling used.

She opens her eyes slowly and smiles at the purple shape clutched in her arms, which is rising and falling gently as Twilight cools down from all the excitement.

If this is a dream, may my rest never end.

There was just something pure about the way Twilight behaved, something fundamentally innocent and gentle even when she was in sexy lioness mode, stalking her oh-so-willing prey across the bedsheets.

That she loved Cheerilee was expressed so freely and openly that it was sometimes a little overwhelming. Most ponies – even happily married ponies – seemed to keep a little distance for each other, an area just for themselves. Not a separation, just a clear distinction between mine and thine, an acknowledgment that I am me and you are you.

For somepony as solitary as Twilight could sometimes be, that distance was very small. Her friends, her Cheerilee – she held them close.

Very close.

It was... intense. And coming from somepony else it might have seemed idealistic and a little foalish, but Cheerilee knew better. Twilight's heart loved deeply despite knowing how much it could hurt, not because it had never been burned or broken. It was a show of truly enviable emotional strength and maturity.

And it made sex with her almost unbearably good, because no matter what was happening, in Twilight's eyes Cheerilee always saw somepony just... loving her, as hard as she could.

Add to that the fact that Twilight was as keen a student of her love's body as she was of everything else and... yeah.

Just...

Yeah.

"Cheerilee?"

The sound of Twilight's voice is muffled slightly, because her muzzle is buried in Cheerilee's chest, clutched there gently by hooves which had been more or less operating in tune with Cheerilee's unstated desire that this wonderful moment never, ever end.

"Hmm?"

"You just... drifted off."

"Hmm? Oh," Cheerilee murmurs, grinning. "Just thinking."

Twilight shifts her head up onto her pillow, taking a moment to plant a brief peck on Cheerilee's lips before settling down again. "About what?"

"You."

Twilight blushes. "Ah. Nothing... bad, I hope."

"Heavens, no," Cheerilee says, reaching up to gently caress Twilight's cheek. The unicorn wiggles happily at the touch with a contented smile. "Just... being happy. I get to do that sometimes, right?"

"I suppose," Twilight smarms, before yawning hugely.

There was a reason Cheerilee dragged her up here, after all. She'd come home to find the Twilight hard at work on her presentation at the library table, just where she'd left her when the schoolbell had needed ringing that morning.

All work and no play makes Twilight a spazzy, wound-up little unicorn. Cute as that can be sometimes, it's not exactly healthy.

And, well, there was the other thing, too. The way Twilight was sorting and re-shelving the library returns telekinetically, apparently without even thinking about it... 

Cheerilee tries to put this stressful thought out of her mind, and focuses on the nice warm feeling in her, well, everywhere.

"As if I'd have anything bad to think about you right this very second," Cheerilee says, not fighting the happy little purr in the back of her voice. She grins smugly at Twilight's suddenly curious expression. "I used to think getting a tongue-lashing was a bad thing..."

Twilight suddenly rises, snatching a pillow and swatting at Cheerilee, who laughs and laughs and laughs. "Don't be... I don't know, crass, Cheerilee, that was terrible..."

"Crass? Crass?" Cheerilee manages, between both her laughter and Twilight's buffets with the pillow. "I try to say – ahaha! Stop! I try to say that you... pleasured me beyond all reasonable expectation and you say I'm being crass?"

"Well you should have just said that, not tongue-lashing. Seriously..."

"Oh, okay, fine," Cheerilee says in a voice so sodden with sarcasm it was probably going to stain the floor leaking all over the place like that. "I'll just, you know, practice composing sonnets and essays while you work me over. That's fair. Never mind some of the things you say in the, as we say poetically, ahem, throes of passion."

Twilight sets her pillow down and gives Cheerilee a mock-serious expression, unable to suppress a little smile. "Sounds good to me." Her horn lights, and the grin on her face grows a little hungry. "We'll start now. Just lay back and think of argument construction..."

If she said she wasn't tempted by the gentle, slightly buzzing pressure sneaking up her thighs, Cheerilee would be lying. But the bags under Twilight's eyes –

and the way she'd been shocked to see the books flying around, stunned to see them moving, before turning and giving Cheerilee a placid smile and saying "Oh, that just happens when I'm thinking sometimes. Keeps me calm..."

– make her reach up and gently push Twilight back down onto the bed.

She kisses Twilight's slightly disappointed expression, cheeks and forehead and jaw and finally lips, telling every part of that pouting face to relax and remember it for later. "No more tonight, Twi. Honey. My love. You're exhausted."

Twilight frowns. "I'm – I'm –"

Whatever she was going to say is obliterated in a huge yawn.

Cheerilee giggles as Twilight scowls in embarrassment. "Yes, I'm sure you are. Now... please. For me, honey, just lie down and relax, hmm?"

"Would have been fun," Twilight huffs, as she slips the covers over herself and rolls away. She tosses a little grin over her shoulder to show she doesn't really mean it, which comforts Cheerilee a little.

"I never said never, just not tonight."

Twilight doesn't respond immediately, so Cheerilee pulls the covers over herself as well and settles down into a comfortable position, staring straight up at the bedroom ceiling.

Her bedroom ceiling.

She smiles. Her body is still warm and happy, relaxed as it only really is once Twilight's been at her for a while.

Her eyes begin to close...

"You liked it?"

Cheerilee opens her eyes and turns her head to find Twilight staring at her, looking fretful. "What?"

"The sex. You liked it? You're not just... you know, being nice, right?"

Are you out of your mind? Do you really think you're the only one a little miffed that you look like you're ready to collapse? Heavens above... 

"Of course I did," Cheerilee says. She reaches forward and pecks Twilight's lips – they are just sitting there, after all. "Why wouldn't you think I –"

"It's just I didn't... you know, use... um, use magic. I mean, you said we shouldn't. I shouldn't. But, um... I... well, you... like that. The magic." Twilight's expression grows a little pleading. "Right?"

"Twi, I love what you can do. I do, you know that." Cheerilee tries to keep her sudden spike of anxiety off her features. "It's just that sometimes I want to feel you, you know? I'm sorry, did you want to? "

Twilight looks away, chewing her lower lip nervously. Cheerilee frowns concern at her for a moment, but then the horseshoe drops.

It's like... rubber sheets.

"Oh, Twilight," Cheerilee says, hissing anger at herself. "I wasn't thinking about... about that at all. The, er, the trigger. Ah, I was so selfish... I just sort of..."

Wanted to have some nice, comfortable sex with you. Your body, your warmth... not your power.

Cheerilee almost curses at the thought – the petty, tiny, selfish, thought. Magic was as much Twilight Sparkle as anything. She finds a pleasant method of keeping her lips still by pressing them against Twilight's own grateful pair and tries not to hate herself.

You're just... sensitive right now, Cheerilee. Focus on Twilight! She's what matters. You love her, even when she's a little... a little... something. Out there.

Special.

Their lips part, and Cheerilee has to hope her unease at being unable to put words to her beloved unicorn didn't show on her face.

Apparently not, because Twilight gives her a bright smile. "It's okay. It is. Um." She rolls so she can put her hooves against Cheerilee's chest, rubbing them against the elder mare's coat in a vaguely reassuring gesture. "I... I just had to ask –"

"Shhh. No, no you don't. Not ever. I should have been more conscious of your feelings," Cheerilee murmurs, brushing some of Twilight's mane out of the unicorn's big, sleepy eyes. She smiles as a convenient thought occurs. "Hey. This was great. It really was. I hope you enjoyed it too..."

Twilight grins, obviously torn between remaining composed and a desire to gush. "I... yes. I did. Um."

"Mmm." Cheerilee leans in and gives Twilight another firm kiss. "Variety is good. The spice of life."

"Are you saying I was getting boring?"

Cheerilee hisses through her teeth. Crap crap crap wrong direction – 

But Twilight is grinning playfully, her anxiety apparently assuaged somewhat. "Best not to risk it, I guess," she murmurs.

"You'd be surprised what can get repetitive," Cheerilee burbles. A relevant memory floats to the top of her mind and she latches onto it gratefully. "I mean, I – when I was –"

She freezes as she realizes what she was about to say.

Oh – this. This might not be such a great thing to tell Twilight about. Might hit close to home – 

A thought occurs.

Yes... it would, wouldn't it? Wouldn't that be interesting.

Cheerilee gives Twilight's curious expression a careful look and considers her options.

"When you were... ?" Twilight prompts, smiling very slightly at the familiar game of gently teasing one of Cheerilee's saucier moments out.

Cheerilee takes a deep breath. Twilight knows pretty much everything about the bad old days, but there you were – pretty much everything. It's not that there was anything really needed hiding, so much as things that weren't really important. She still had a few more confessions that may or may not be relevant – like now, for example.

"Remember that stallion I told you about? The one in college? Who really liked... you know... ?" Cheerilee shakes her rump, frowning her mixed feelings about that whole issue.

Twilight winces. "Oooh. Yeah, I can see how that would get... old. Fast."

"Well, once you're used to it it's not so bad, but –" Cheerilee pauses, clearing her throat at Twilight's expression of mixed disbelief and saucy amusement at the elder mare's nonchalance about it. "Yes, it can get... repetitive, and that's not really someplace where you want things to be repetitive, right? Anyways, that's not the point. Um."

"Oh?"

"Well... I left something out of that. Didn't think it was important at the time..."

I may have been drunk when I told you about this, but I wasn't completely dim.

Twilight just looks up at her patiently.

Cheerilee sighs and braces herself, hoping for the best, but preparing for a little freakout. "Well... he... miiiiiight have been one of my creative writing professors."

Twilight's eyes go wide and she coughs. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I know, I know..." Cheerilee murmurs, looking away.

"You slept with a professor? A teacher?" Twilight says, disbelief etched on every syllable, as if it's not even possible.

"Not for grades! Never for grades. It was after I took his class." Cheerilee is proud to see the snake hidden in the tall grass before her hoof does, so to speak, and is gratified when Twilight immediately relaxes a little. Sex with teachers was one thing, but grades were sacrosanct in this library. "He was young, he came to parties sometimes. Very against the rules, but..." She shakes her head. "Fillydelphia isn't Canterlot or Manehattan, you know?"

Twilight blows out a deep breath. "Wow, that's... wow."

"Well, you know, it was... kind of hot," Cheerilee says, grining awkwardly as she realizes she's trying to justify herself in a very bad decision made by a much younger pony. "It was... you know, breaking the rules. And, I mean, when you're that young... someone in authority paying you attention seems..."

"Makes you feel like a real adult," Twilight finishes, for her. She gives Cheerilee a lopsided grin. "I just got invited to symposiums with my academy lecturers when I was in my graduate studies..."

"Yeah, well... you're the good one, and I'm the naughty one. We knew that."

"Oh, don't be mean," Twilight says, leaning forward...

The kiss is... nice, Cheerilee thinks. It's nice to be forgiven, even if you only felt a little guilty for how dumb your nineteen-year-old self was.

She pulls away and gives Twilight a serious look. "The point is that the novelty wore off quick – really quick when I caught him with somepony else, you might say. But I was already bored by then." She sniffs. "He didn't even have the courtesy to be any good."

Cheerilee frowns as Twilight's face screws up in mild discomfort. This little revelation didn't even do a good job of closing the barrel of monkeys she was already wrangling, so much as just open another one.

"I'm sorry to hear it," Twilight says, for something to say more than anything, Cheerilee suspects.

"I was dumb. He wasn't a good pony or a good teacher, so that's all... fine," she replies.

Twilight shudders. "You don't say. That's... mmm. That's beyond not appropriate," she adds, rolling over again.

Cheerilee stares at her back for awhile.

Hmm... well, this feels a bit like sticking a hoof in the hydra's mouth, but... 

She puts on a sarcastic grin. "Twilight, of all ponies you can't talk to me about sleeping with teachers –"

Twilight spins, eyes wild. "What?! I... I don't... I never... !"

Cheerilee gestures to herself.

"Oh," Twilight murmurs. "Right."

Internally, Cheerilee groans and rolls her eyes.

Why is being right never any fun... ? And so much work... 

It's like cleaning out an open wound, a really ugly one with dirt and rocks in it. It hurts, and is viscerally uncomfortable to deal with on a very fundamental level.

But you have to clean it out before the wound can heal.

"You see the appeal, then. Speaking of keeping things exciting..." she says, hating herself for every word, "I could run around to Bon Bon's shop and get one of those sets of fake wings and a horn –"

"What – oh, heavens, you don't mean –"

Cheerilee rises to look down on Twilight from above, affecting an aloof, serious expression. "Oh, Twilight, my most prized student! I'm so pleased with your latest work!" she declares, trying to ignore the bile rising in her gut. "Please let me show you my apprecia–"

"Stop it!"

And Cheerilee is paralyzed as every part of her body is instantly obedient to the command.

Twilight is staring up at her through tears blooming in terrified eyes.

Ah, self-loathing. I thought I knew you from all those times I woke up in beds I didn't remember getting into... 

"Stop it, Cheerilee! Please!"

Cheerilee tries to give her a grin. "Shh... okay, okay. I was just kidding –"

"That's not funny," Twilight murmurs. "Okay? It's... it's not."

"Okay," Cheerilee says, reaching out for Twilight. "Shhh... I'm sorry, Twilight."

Twilight sniffles a little as she shies away from the embrace. "No, you... you need to understand, Cheerilee... I could never... I wouldn't insult her that way... she's..."

"Insult?"

"Yes!" Twilight says through clenched teeth, before looking away, staring out a window at the distant moon.

The moon... 

"Why would the princess be insulted by you feeling that way about her?" Cheerilee asks, trying to put some life in a voice which wants to be hollow with the immensity of the confirmation of something she's always quietly suspected. "Rarity and Rainbow Dash weren't. I most certainly am not... and... and more to the point, Princess Luna wasn't –"

Twilight's eyes light up with pain at the mention of the princess of the moon. She's a bit of a sore subject, even months later. "See? You don't understand. It's... different. She and I... she's my teacher. I love her – as a teacher. As somepony to admire, to... to look up to. I'd never... never dream of..."

She trails off, sniffling.

Cheerilee's heart throbs as she realizes what should have been obvious.

Twilight doesn't believe she's good enough to even think about Celestia that way.

On one hoof, she has to admit that it's slightly annoying to have somepony else's sexuality prized above her own... but on the other, Cheerilee wasn't dumb and she certainly wasn't blind. She'd read more odes to Celestia's beauty and grace than she could count.

And to live so close to her, to be given so much special attention, respect and yes, love... gentle, tender, born of true affection...

She'd be stunned if Twilight didn't feel at least pangs of desire for the princess.

Oh, heavens... it must be crushing her, inside. To desire something, and hate herself for desiring it... no wonder she was so struck by Luna, even when things were going bad... 

"What?!" Twilight roars.

"Did I say that out loud?" Cheerilee murmurs. "Shi– crap."

Twilight's eyes are ablaze with indignant rage. "Luna was different," she snarls. "Luna was... intoxicating. Hard to let go of. She... you..." The unicorn shakes her head. "Is this about her? Are you still worried I think of you as some kind of... consolation prize? I don't see her in my house – and I'm glad! I don't want to see her!"

Wow so this is not going well oh heavens what have I done

Cheerilee waves her hooves in front of her face desperately. "Twilight, calm down, please! I'm just trying to understand about you and Celestia –"

"You want to know about the princess? I'll tell you about her! You don't have to play games or make fun of me!" Twilight snaps. She sniffs bitterly. "Oh, yes. Everypony loves to tease me. Even Rainbow Dash, while I was in her bed, having just had sex with her, teased me about Celestia because of Luna. 'You've just got a thing for ponies with both wings and horns', she said."

"Twilight, look, please – I just want to talk about this!"

"I am talking!"

Cheerilee grimaces helplessly. "No, you're yelling, Twi..."

"Well... that's fine! I don't do it enough! Everypony... mmm. They just don't get it. She's my teacher. I've known her for a very, very long time, and she has always treated me with kindness and respect, even when I was just a filly, or being stupid. She has given me everything. Heavens above, Cheerilee, of all ponies you should be grateful to her!" Twilight taps Cheerilee's chest, hard, with a hoof, but that doesn't hurt half as bad as her furious expression. "When I was in Canterlot after Luna rejected me... I was ready to give up. I almost came back here and canceled our first date, because I was so messed up and hurt. But she encouraged me to go to you with an open heart. That's what she does, Cheerilee. She helps me be... strong. Be who I am."

"Well, then, I'm glad. But –"

Twilight's anger somehow finds a way to darken further. "No. But nothing. She is the princess. She is special and my relationship with her is special. I don't... I don't need my flanks to feel close to her. It's enough that she even pays attention to me at all. That I'm still her friend even though I don't study under her as often as I used to anymore."

Cheerilee can't help noticing Twilight's tone is distracted, not really directed at her or ponydom in general anymore. In fact, it almost sounded like she was talking to –

A dreadful awareness grabs Cheerilee's heart.

Oh, heavens. She's reminding herself... 

"Twilight... look," Cheerilee begins, hesitantly.

Twilight closes her eyes, but says nothing through her clenched teeth, merely taking big, deep breaths.

"I... I know you're angry. I'm sorry. I should have just... asked. But after she came here, and with... how you acted when I told you about her, I've been... I don't know, uh..."

Twilight's eyes snap open. "Worried? Jealous?"

"That's unfair, and you know it," Cheerilee says, as harshly as she dares. She relaxes when Twilight is visibly chastened at being stood up to. "Twilight, I love you. But your life with her – it's all so huge. I don't understand it –"

"That much is clear."

Cheerilee closes her eyes.

She's angry. She's scared. She's hurt. Just ignore it.

"Yes. I don't understand. But I want to, okay? I'm sorry for hurting your feelings, but you need to understand..." She shakes her head. "It's all so huge. It's scary. It's something important about you that makes you feel so far away from me. But it's big for you, too. You can talk to me."

Twilight frowns, but it's not angry, not really. Grumpy, perhaps. Irritable. "You've always known about her. It's not some big secret."

"It's one thing to know and quite another to have her right there in front of you, you know?" Cheerilee exclaims. "Twi, honey. This is so big, and complicated. Just... talk to me."

"What do you want to hear? I just--"

"Twilight. I love you," Cheerilee says, looking Twilight straight in the eye. "You can tell me anything."

The hunted look that flashes across Twilight's face at the slight emphasis on "anything" tells her she's hit the mark, but it's not enough. It has to be safe for Twilight before she'll talk.

Cheerilee reaches out and puts a hoof on one of Twilight's, comforted when her unicorn doesn't even flinch or make a move to avoid the touch.

"I'm not going anywhere," Cheerilee says, as seriously as she can. "I am right here. For you. No matter what."

For a very long while, those beautiful amethyst eyes just bore into her own, Twilight's face betraying nothing besides the fact that she is still pretty upset, but is trying to keep a lid on it.

There is nothing to do but wait.

"I... I have known the princess for a very long time," Twilight murmurs, finally. "She has been so good to me, Cheerilee, you... can't even imagine. She's always been there. Always been ready to listen, and happy to teach, and... oh, heavens. She's so... beautiful, and perfect..."

O, the sun, blessed orb and soul // perfection, radiant and true // shining ever, stutt'ring never

Cheerilee forces herself not to roll her eyes at the little snatch of disgustingly purple poetry. She was tempted, very tempted, to go back in time and smack its author, Merryweather, over the head and tell her that there's such a thing as overdoing it.

Also that her word choice was atrocious and the only reason anypony read her work was because she was rich back when that mattered and as such she was "famous", sort of.

And that it was unhelpful at the moment and Cheerilee personally cursed that it had been stuck in her head since her parents had made her recite it back when she was just a filly.

She's brought back into the world by Twilight's sigh, a truly wretched thing mangled by sniffles, doing its best not to be something like a sob. Cheerilee bites her lower lip and gently rubs Twilight's hoof.

I'm here, my love. Just let it out. We'll be okay.

I hope.

"I... sometimes I... wonder, you know?" Twilight moans. "I wonder what she wants. Why she pays any attention to me. Why she chose me, why she's still... here. In my life, I mean, not here here. What I – why she... why..."

A single tear leaks out as the unicorn slams her eyes shut and pounds her free hoof on the bed. Cheerilee moves to shush her, but Twilight suddenly leaps to her hooves and wanders over to the bedroom balcony, where an impressive array of telescopes are pointed heavenwards.

Twilight is silent for a moment, staring out at Ponyville. When she speaks again, it comes calm and cool, but heavy with thought.

"I've seen her, you know? When she's alone, or just sort of... thinking. And I can't help but wonder what's going on in her head. What she wants. How she has all these wonderful plans, and ideas, and somehow always seems to know the right thing to say. I mean, you say that Celestia makes me feel far from you, but I feel the same way about her, you know? She's something beyond me, something I don't really understand..."

Cheerilee can't help herself. She can feel the shape of the story, almost as if she could hold it in her hooves. "But sometimes..."

Twilight turns, and gives Cheerilee a very solemn and apologetic look. "But sometimes she feels very close."

Sisters are close. A parent is close to her child. Friends are close.

"Twilight... it's okay," Cheerilee begins, despite her heart fluttering with discomfort, but Twilight's expression grows hurt. She's forcing out the confession.

Get it out, honey. I'm here... 

"It's when she's sad," Twilight whispers. "It's so rare, but I've seen it. Like, once, an old friend of hers died and I saw her mourning him. She just... it was a letter, letting her know. She just seemed to shrink, and everything so huge and magical about her was... I don't know. Not gone, but... it all seemed unreal, like when you suddenly look up from a really good book and realize – oh, right, it's all fiction. It was just for a moment, but in that moment she seemed..."

"She seemed close enough to touch," Cheerilee says, almost under her breath.

"Yes." Twilight swallows a guilty sob, but turns a stern look on Cheerilee. "I love her, Cheerilee. She is so important to me. But sometimes, I don't know what to think about her, or what I feel. When she's there, it's easy. She makes it easy, just by... being, you know what I mean? It all just... happens."

Cheerilee resists an urge to roll her eyes and say something sarcastic.

As a matter of fact, I don't know what you mean, dearest.

Twilight doesn't notice. Her eyes wander back towards the open sky – northwards, towards the mountains and Canterlot. "But when I'm alone... when I try to figure it out... I just don't know. But I know I love her."

Cheerilee just stares. No words come to mind.

But a thought occurs.

Intimacy. Closeness. Openness. Total exposure.

Not always so nice... but always important.

Twilight's expression grows pained, distant starlight dancing in her eyes. "Let's just say... it's no surprise to anypony that I ended up with a teacher."


• • •


One of the little quirks of routine in the Ponyville Library was that Saturday mornings belonged to Cheerilee.

Teaching was not a job for late risers, and even on the days when she was not being called to duty at the schoolhouse she usually saw the front end of the dawn, mostly out of habit. Contrariwise, some ponies lived in their place of work and would, if they weren't pressed, get up five minutes before opening, unlock the door, and then wander back upstairs and fall asleep again.

Part of that was Twilight's increasingly common late nights of working as the date of her presentation loomed, but the other part of it was that like many permanent students, for Twilight Sparkle the day had always started at noon, and she'd seen little reason to change that schedule since.

Cheerilee, sitting in her customary seat at the little cafe across from Town Hall, sips her coffee and watches Ponyville happen.

All things considered, she ought to be flattered.

She got it. She understood.

She was, herself, a teacher, after all, and not exactly an old mare quite yet. They'd warned her about it in school – it's perfectly natural. Almost everypony has a crush on a teacher when they're young and their sexuality is beginning to kick into gear. If she had a bit for every young pony who had in the past had a little schoolcolt or schoolfilly crush on her, she'd have... well, at least enough to buy herself a good strong drink, which she could probably stand at this point.

Dontcha have a very special somepony for Hearts and Hooves Day!?

Cheerilee twitches. For a terrible moment she'd feared Apple Bloom was going to join their ranks...

But no, that had been even worse, hadn't it? Dragging her and Mac together like that.

Oh heavens, those three... I'd kill them if they didn't manage to be so innocent about everything.

She sips her coffee again, and sets that aside for now.

The point was that... well, how else to put this?

Twilight had a thing for teachers. And when you considered who, in that lovely purple head of hers, was the capital-T, dictionary-definition, ultimate Teacher, it was pretty damn flattering to be grouped in with her.

But there you were. She was being set up against a princess.

Again.

Well... sort of.

The worst part is she couldn't even really bring herself to be angry or offended by all of it.

That would have been easy, in a way. Petty, perhaps, small of her... but easy. If only she merely had to sort of wake Twilight up from fantasies about goddesses and join her here, in the real world.

But it's almost the exact opposite.

Twilight, her beloved, wonderful mare... was afraid.

She didn't understand what she was feeling, and it frightens her. Yes, she loves the princess, and yes, the princess is an ideal for her – quite justifiably! And Cheerilee presses all the right buttons in her mind...

Except the magical ones, of course, she thinks with a grimace.

But it was about more than little pangs of desire or the complexities of everypony's sexual psychology, which was always sticky. Heavens knew that Twilight's appeal for Cheerilee was at least a little bit in how she was, so fundamentally, an ideal student – always learning, working hard, being smart and curious – but it's best not to think too hard about that and just sort of accept that it just helped the puzzle pieces fit together somewhere deep down, so to speak.

No, no. This was about more than just that. The sex stuff, the crushes and impulses, just confused the issue.

This... this is Twilight growing up.

She'd always existed in a state of arrested development, in a way. That she had been a virgin until very recently – both literally and in the more figurative sense of being virginal of romantic life in general – was a great example of that, but in truth far from the only one.

Twilight was – or at least, had been – Celestia's student, here in Ponyville at least under the pretense of researching the Magic of Friendship. Sometimes, Cheerilee got the distinct impression that the princess had kicked Twi out of the Academy just so she'd be forced to exist in the real world with everypony else, considering the things Twilight would just... not know, or would thoughtlessly do. Like how she was very strict in scheduling but was very used to operating on her own timetable set about four hours after everypony else's, because as a student for years she'd never gotten in the habit of being up and around before noon if she didn't have to be.

But that was changing.

She'd grown in the last, oh, three-quarters of a year or so. A lot had happened, not least of all that she'd meandered her way into the hearts and beds of some of the most desirable mares in Ponyville and had, to be perfectly frank, begun settling down with Cheerilee – the first of her friends to really find somepony.

So she had to think about the Princess. And where the princess fit in her life as an adult.

Between the sheets was definitely an option, in the dark of the night... but the really horrible thing is that it was only one of a great many, and the truth was that Twilight couldn't bring herself to think she deserved to even want any of them.

And that was complex enough without having to wonder about Celestia. Twilight's crisis was a headache, but the princess... ?

Even Twilight, who is as close to Celestia as anypony, has no idea what's going on underneath that crown. It's not like you can just wander up and ask, for heaven's sake.

Cheerilee sighs.

If she'd known falling for Twilight was going to involve dealing not one but both princesses, at least in her own mind if not Twilight's or anypony else’s, she might have given it up as too much of a hassle long ago.

She almost had, once.

Twilight looks up, her eyes pleading through tears. "Don't go. Please," Twilight whispers.

Cheerilee's hoof is still sore from how desperately the unicorn had grabbed it, and so much in her mind is telling her that it's safer to walk away, that this is the same old song and dance again. Somepony begging her not to go merely because they're used to the comfort of being in a relationship, even though it had died long ago.

And further, even this early, she is beginning to realize that being with Twilight Sparkle is something bigger than she imagined, that the magic and the amazing sex and the courageous, unhidden love come accompanied by a pony who is part of things that transcend history and resemble myth... 

But something deep down refuses to listen. Not only wants to believe, but does believe that Twilight Sparkle loves her, and this was all a mistake. A misunderstanding. That walking in and listening could resolve everything... 

It was a big risk. A leap of faith, as they said.

She could turn away. She could... 

"But I didn't..." she murmurs, swirling her cup and watching the cream make little trails as it swishes in the thick, black coffee.

She had not turned away; and now, because of that, she literally rather than merely figuratively lived in the Library. This very morning she had woken up and the first thing she'd seen was Twilight's tongue hanging out of her mouth as she snored, which was perhaps lacking in romance but inestimably comforting in how mundane and real it was. And then she'd taken a very quick shower, in a bathroom that was hers, and now she was here.

This was her life.

Not the one she'd imagined as a filly, and certainly not with the pony she'd thought she'd be with, but –

"Miss Cheerilee," rumbles a voice, interrupting her thoughts.

Cheerilee looks up into the big green eyes of the stallion she once thought would be that pony across the cafe table.

Her heart freezes for a second, like it always does, but then the moment passes as if it never was.

That was a long time ago, after all.

She nods. "Macintosh."

They hold that pose for a second, as they sometimes do. She swears his lips even move, as if he wants to say something to her; but his eyes are wary. He knows she's onto at least a little of what he's been up to with Twilight's friends, and can't possibly be happy about it...

But the moment passes. No harm done.

He nods, giving her a little half-smile, before turning to wander away down the road that eventually led up a dusty trail past a white picket fence, where a barnyard and three more Apples waited for him. She doesn't turn to watch him, just staring out across the street at nothing in particular and sipping her coffee.

His hoofbeats begin to grow distant...

"Mac, wait."

She doesn't realize she'd indulged the impulse until she sees him freeze suddenly out of the corner of her eye. It's enough to alarm her, make her stir and turn to him.

Big Mac turns back and approaches her table warily. She watches every step, taking a sip from her cup to hide the way her lip is trembling under the weight of a question that's grown heavy with not being asked for years and years.

"Is there... somethin' Ah can do for you?"

Cheerilee glances up at him. He's still nervous; but just as it did back then, it just makes him look coltish and sweet. She can't help thinking it's a bit deceptive, but kicks herself internally for doing so. Bitterness solves nothing, especially since she wants to ask –

"Do you ever think about... what it would have been like?"

Mac's ears prick up in alarm, and for a moment his expression is confused. This wasn't the knife he'd been expecting.

Might be a worse one.

"Been like if..."

"If I'd stayed here. With you."

Mac pauses, clearly taken on the wrong hoof. He'd probably been expecting a lecture about playing nice with Twilight's friends, not navel-gazing about ancient history.

He frowns. "Why d'ya ask?"

Cheerilee sighs.

The truth is, she can't help herself. Even now, sometimes she lies awake at night, in the arms of another mare – a beautiful mare who she loves more deeply and more intensely than she knew she could love somepony – and thinks about her son and two daughters, and making dinner for Mac and Applejack as they're coming in from the orchards, and keeping an eye on her little sister-in-law and Granny Smith...

She winces.

A different world. A different life. One separated from the one she lives by a single moment.

"Just answer the question," she hears herself say.

Mac settles back into what was, for him, a thoughtful pose. "Nah."

Cheerilee's surprised to find the answer... hurts. "Never?"

"Nah," Mac repeats. He leans forward, and suddenly his usually placid expression grows hard and serious. "Ain't worth thinkin' on, Miss Cheerilee. You didn't stay, and that's how it is."

Cheerilee holds his gaze for a moment before looking away, unsure what to say next. Mac just looks down at her, expression more or less neutral.

It would have been easier if he'd said yes, somehow; it might have been interesting to compare notes. But instead, as ever, he sticks to what is as a guide for life.

"Sorry," Cheerilee mutters. "Don't mind me, Mac."

"Is..." Mac begins, but he bites his lip, as if unsure he wants to go on. He closes his eyes and shakes his head to clear the doubts, and turns a cautious look on Cheerilee. "Everything alright with you an' Miss Sparkle?"

There is a shameful, uncharitable part of her which wants to say I don't see what business that is of yours. You don't even miss me enough to wonder what kind of wife I would have been. She is mildly proud of stamping that particular impulse into submission before it sees the light of day, even though that's far from the worst or most foolishly petty thing she's ever wanted to say to him in hurt.

She sips her coffee, not looking at him.

Mac sighs. "Ah'm sorry. Ah should get goin' –"

"What should I do, Mac?"

It's a whine. There's no other word for it: a small, pathetic little sound that begs anypony who hears it to reach out and save her.

Mac blinks a few times, as if he can't believe his ears.

She looks up at him, holding his bright emerald eyes with her own, and silently begs him to be her big, strong stallion again, for just a moment. But her voice says, in a firmer tone: "If you had any advice –"

"Well, Ah don't know what it is you need advice about, Cheerilee –"

"Just... advice. In general. For me."

He looks at her awhile, in an appraising sort of way. Cheerilee hopes her face is firm and admirably determined-looking, but somehow she doubts it.

Mac throws back his head and blows out a breath, as if to say: well, here goes nothing...

"Ah reckon... Ah reckon you're the mare I feel sorriest for in mah whole life."

"What?!"

He looks down at her, his eyes sad – but honestly sad, not condescending. Almost mournful.

"Ah'd say... Cheerilee, Ah think the world keeps happenin' to you, well past your fair share by now. For one thing, you agreed to teach the foals here in Ponyville, you poor filly..."

Cheerilee concedes this point with a half-amused huff.

"But... look, hon," he says, giving her a sad smile. "If you were to tell me any problem of yours, Ah bet you a bent bit mah advice would be the same no matter what it was. Life's tossed you around, lil' mare. Some of that has been because sometimes you didn't know when to just walk away..."

Cheerilee's eyes go wide.

This again? You son of a manticore, I'll tear your tongue out – 

"And sometimes it's been because you didn't quite put your hooves down and just refuse to move an inch," Mac finishes, nodding. "There's no room for half-hearts, especially when the really expensive chips are down. Make your move and stick with it. Eeyup."

As he says this, something smart deep down in Cheerilee's mind drags her back, once again, to the moment when a tearful, terrified Twilight Sparkle stared up at her from the doorstep of the library, begging her to stay, to come inside, to give the unicorn another chance. To believe that Twilight was truly sorry and wanted her to stay.

She'd actually wanted to leave, been very tempted. She had a lot of really good reasons to – not least the big red one she was talking to at the moment.

But then...

The part of her which loved Twilight Sparkle had planted its hooves in the earth and refused to let her fear, and the old hurts, and all the bad memories make her turn and walk away.

She could have. She might even have been right to.

But she didn't.

The best moment of her entire life.

And now she lived in the Library, sharing a deep, rich love with a silly little unicorn who made her so, so happy.

"I think you're probably right, Mac," Cheerilee whispers.

"Well, Ah may not waste time thinkin' on worlds where things that didn't happen did, but that don't mean I don't think about you now and again," he replies, in an equal hush.

They smile at one another.

Mac winks. "Yer as clever a mare as there ever was. You an' Twilight Sparkle together's got a lot of ponies worried. Ah think you can think yer way through whatever's troublin' you, no problem. Then you dig yer hooves in deep and don't back down for anypony. You hear?"

"I hear," Cheerilee says, grinning.

"Ah'll be seein' you, then," Mac rumbles, and turns and walks off, delayed in his many, many chores only very slightly.

Cheerilee watches him go, sipping the very dregs of her coffee.

First, I'm going to go home, and kiss Twilight. Because I love her.

And then... 

She smiles.

And then she'd dig her hooves in.
> Just Like Us
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"And don't let her stay up all night worrying," Cheerilee says, nose in the air and eyes shut elegantly in a display of truly outrageous haughtiness.

Spike scribbles a note on a long scroll, finishing with a decisive flourish. "Right." He gives Cheerilee a bit of a look as he does so, saying: and how, exactly, am I supposed to do that? I'm not you.

Cheerilee ignores him. "And no food in bed. I swear she'll start putting on weight, and I won't have that."

"No food in bed. Got it."

"And I know the presentation is after a formal dinner reception but that doesn't mean she gets to sleep in until two pee em –"

"I'm right here, you know," Twilight says, half-frowning.

Behind her, a huge white train is steaming, ready for its long journey to Manehattan. A couple suitcases and a small crate containing displays and complex apparatuses are floating in the air beside her as a pair of unicorn porters begin loading it onto the baggage car, their work momentarily distracted by the little domestic comedy.

Cheerilee opens one eye and gives her a mischievous little smile. "So?"

Twilight just huffs in response, but smiles anyways.

"Was there anything else?" Spike asks, looking from one to the other nervously. He's still a little young to understand exactly how this is flirting.

"Try to have fun," Cheerilee says, giving him a little peck on the head.

The dragon grins and makes a show of adding that to the list.

Twilight pouts. "What about me?"

"I suppose if you had some fun too it wouldn't be so bad," Cheerilee says, stepping up to her. "But don't get carried away. You're spoken for, young mare..."

They kiss.

It's gentle, and brief, but both of them know it's a promise of slightly less chaste behavior the very second Twilight gets back.

They separate very slightly as the last call whistle wails at the engine, a little ways down the track past the far end of the platform.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Twilight says, the very slightest tremble in her voice.

Cheerilee chuckles. "I think you're going to be way too busy for that. Presentations to attend, old wizards to hobnob with, you know." She puts her hoof on Twilight's chest and looks up into those gleaming purple eyes, the ones she loves to drown herself in as she lies in their bed.

Their bed. In their library.

"You'll be great, Twilight. You know I wish I could be there, and understand anything you were talking about," she says with a huge grin. "Knock 'em dead and come home, will you?"

Twilight smiles gratefully.

It's the very first time she'll be away from Ponyville for any length of time since she and Cheerilee got together, and she's been fretting about that as much as her work for the last week. Cheerilee can't bring herself to complain, somehow; Twilight worrying about being away had meant Twilight reminding herself, at some length, what she was going to be missing.

And it was nice to hear Twilight worry about missing me before she had even left, wasn't it...?

Considering one thing and another lately, it had been very welcome indeed. It had been a very hard couple of weeks...

"I better go," Twilight says, anxiously. "I love you."

"And I love you, Twilight Sparkle. Hurry back to me," Cheerilee replies, before turning to Spike. "Take good care of her – I'm trusting you!"

Spike salutes as he hops on the train. "You got it, Cheerilee!"

The door shuts in his face, and the engine's whistle wails.

Cheerilee stands on the platform, smiling faintly, as the wheels begin moving. Before too long, Twilight's worried face appears at a window in the passenger car. Cheerilee lets her smile grow wider and waves, and is comforted when Twilight perks up and waves in return as the car pulls away down the track.

A hoof-full of moments and the train is already a tiny line of white in the distance.

She sighs.

Twilight was now safely packed away towards the other side of Equestria, safe in the claws of her loyal assistant and more or less happy given the more or less permanent state of anxiety she inflicted on herself when the zero hour for anything approached.

Part two of her plan taken care of, then.


• • •


Princess Celestia pauses, eyes narrowing.

Before her on the writing desk is the half-finished reply to a very troublesome letter which had arrived that morning. It would be barely readable by a normal pony in the faint, ethereal light of the little orb hovering above the desk – the only light shutting out the evening gloom in her chambers, as it happens. The candelabras are unlit, the fireplace is cold...

She's been busy.

Letters are piled everywhere around her in neat little piles according to their shape. Rolled scrolls, sealed envelopes, even a few carefully-etched gems suitable for travel to the dragons, in their fiery homelands...

She'd saved this for last. It had warranted some thought.

While I appreciate the invitation, I'm afraid that on such short notice I'd have a difficult time setting aside other obligati–

It was...mostly a lie, if she was honest, but she also felt that now was a good time to remind the ponies in question that she didn't live on their timetable. It was one of those lies you tell to establish boundaries, even if that's a little...how to put this...?

Not exactly what she wanted to do.

It's necessary from time to time, though.

But her consciousness of this small unpleasantness isn't why she has paused.

Her eyes flicker back to the original letter and carefully review it. Having done so, she cocks her head, frowning and peering at it suspiciously.

"Hmmm," she hums, dark curiosity lurking in the corners of the sound.

Now she does something she has not done in a very, very long time, and second-guesses her memory.

She needs to be sure.

And because of that, the task takes some doing; but before too long she is re-reading a slightly older letter, obviously written by horn rather than in the earth pony or pegasus fashion like this newer, suspicious one.

No new words have magically appeared on it since she last read it. Which was not unheard of, of course, but seemed unlikely in this case.

She narrows her eyes and turns back to the questionable missive.

"That can't be right," she murmurs.

She looks up from her desk and out a window on the far side of her study, where the spectacular night sky spreads across the southern horizon.

The princess raises an eyebrow.

"Unless..."


• • •


Three days pass.

For the first time ever, Cheerilee is alone in the library for days at a time. She has to admit, it's a little strange, but in an exciting sort of way. It really is hers, her place. Her home. She doesn't need Twilight or Spike there with her to make the fact of it true. Not anymore.

The thrill of this is dulled somewhat by how the place seems very big and empty without them. Her wish that they would any minute walk in the door really does burn in her chest, like a stone left out to bake in the sun on a bright beach; but rather than try to stop feeling it, she merely nurses the longing gently, carrying it along with her gingerly so that she was warmed but not burned.

Instead she finds her comfort in just letting the routine of her life consume her, carrying lonely little Cheerilee along with it, its challenges and struggles familiar, wearing away the hours until her library was once again filled with arguments and commotion and love.

The past three mornings, she has rolled out of her grandmother's bed, which had always been far too large for even two ponies, and washed up as she chews on something simple and downs more coffee than is probably healthy quicker than anypony should do.

Then, after hanging an apologetic little note on the handle of the library's front door, she heads to the schoolhouse and puts in the daily twelve hours, eight of which she will almost certainly be paid for.

She wipes the runny noses, hands out the math lessons, returns corrected essays on their trip to City Hall, washes the blackboard, sweeps the floors, counsels one young colt going through his very first crush on a classmate ("No, honey, I don't think you should give her those. Those are stinging nettles, not flowers..."), and in between it all somehow manages to squeeze in some teaching.

Once she'd fought the good fight she comes home again, corrects some work, and does her best to find a half-hour to read before she makes her way up the stairs and passes out, ready to greet the next morning with something short of an indecent gesture, if at all possible.

The universe's only concession to her stress seemed to be the unusually low level of activity from her three most troubles–

Now, now, be nice.

– her three most challenging students, who had been on their best behavior lately in the fallout of their last sch – challenging situation.

It's almost meditative. She just accepted the day, moving through the same motions she always did, considering little else. She'd done a lot of considering – and inquiring, and researching – in the last couple weeks before setting events in motion, sending her beloved on her way.

Now, she merely needed to wait and see what would happen.

Two letters were the only things interrupting this blessed, peaceful state.

One had come the first night in a familiar burst of sweet green smoke as she sat correcting a spelling quiz, falling into a long-forgotten salad. Underneath the dressing stains, it read something like:

Dear Cheerilee,

We're safely in Manehattan and more or less set up in our rooms at the Bitz-Astor. I've been here before a couple times before, but it's amazing how it manages to change constantly...

Anyways, this place is way too fancy for me. Spike loves it, of course, but that's only because he doesn't know that the snacks he's sneaking from the mini-bar are going to be paid with his allowance – and with these prices, that's going to be a couple weeks' worth. Help me remember, okay?

I'm not sure what else there is to say, except I miss you, and I wish you were here. Spike has apparently learned to snore now that he has his own room, and being kept awake by it just reminds me how much has changed. And the best part of those changes really is having somepony warm to snuggle up to in the night.

I'll be back as soon as I can. I love you –

Well, Cheerilee assumed it said 'I love you', but it might have said 'I fish lemon', it was hard to tell under the vinaigrette.

I love you.

Yours,
Twilight

That letter was set on the bedside table, where she could read it anytime she wanted.

The second letter had been hoof-delivered by Royal courier, at the schoolhouse, the next day. It was very brief and to the point.

It would be my pleasure to join you. I shall try to arrive with a minimum of fanfare – I think that would be best.

Not melting in the sudden reality of what that meant in front of the Royal Guardspony and her entire class had been...challenging.

That letter was set on the table with the weird wooden bust, half-buried beneath some half-finished stacks of papers to correct, left where it had fallen when she shrugged her saddlebags off.

One more day of moving through the motions had passed, and now:

Friday evening.

Cheerilee lounges on one of the couches strewn about the library floor, half-reading an open folio of free verse from the Classical Romantic period, a few centuries ago. Not for pleasure – she liked rhythm in her poetry, and a sort of spartan sense of every word being laden with direct meaning, not the Romantic style of trying to make everything as sweeping and dramatic as possible.

Which made it a bit ironic, of course, since the book was, in essence, a prop for the upcoming...

...whatever happened.

On the opposite side of the library, the owl hoots softly as he awakens.

Cheerilee looks up, momentarily startled by the sound.

Oh, for heavens' sake, are you serious? He brings you the Equestria Daily on his way back in most mornings!

If Owloiysius notices her unusual stress, though, he makes no sign, merely giving her a wide-eyed stare.

She settles herself quickly to give him a polite nod of greeting, knowing very well she's blushing in apology. He is courteous enough to give her a pair of blinks before pressing a wing against his little round window and vanishing silently into the night.

Her eyes, freed from the horrible literary prison of how terribly distressing these ponies found the tremendous sadness of watching flower petals wilt, cannot help but snap to the clock.

She's really been trying not to look at it. Partially to prevent the wait dragging out forever, but mostly because she was dreadfully afraid that if she looked, it would already be –

"Six o'clock," she says to the vertical line on the clock face.

Damn.

And as if on cue, the silence was broken by an enthusiastic rapping at the door.

Very enthusiastic, in fact.

Cheerilee's brows furrow.

Her discreet inquiries over the last few weeks had revealed that the princess was occasionally prone to odd flights of fancy and a somewhat puckish sense of humor from time to time, but this...

Rising from the couch, Cheerilee shakes her head.

There's such a thing as staying young at heart, but this seems a bit much.

The rapping comes again, a little more tentative this time.

Cheerilee trots over to the front door, closes her eyes, and takes a deep, calming breath.

You can do this.

Dig your hooves in, and don't back down...

One hoof reaches out and presses down the latch.

"Good evening," she says, with as much cheer as she can muster. Opening her eyes, she looks up –

Where there should be a tall, graceful white figure, there is only open air.

Cheerilee's ears prick up in alarm as she drops her vision first to eye level, then further down, to see –

"Hey, Miss Cheerilee!" Scootaloo chirps, her broad smile threatening to spread so far across her head that the top would fall off.

Cheerilee's internal momentum, which had been driving her forward inexorably like a train running full steam, skips several rails and rolls off the tracks across the open field of her mind.

"Girls!" she burbles. "But – what –"

"Don't mind us, we'll just be a moment," Sweetie Belle says haughtily, as the Cutie Mark Crusaders squeeze through the doorway, snaking between Cheerilee's legs, obliging the mare to weave and dodge as they find their way underhoof and past her, trotting into the library stacks, chattering to one another with every appearance of comfort.

As if I didn't have enough problems this evening! Oh, heavens...

Struggling for mental equilibrium, Cheerilee spins on her hooves and reaches for the three fillies vaguely as they disappear into the shelves. "Girls! As...nice as it is to see all of you, ah, it really isn't a good time just now –"

"It'll just be a second!" comes the chorused reply.

"Seriously, girls, this is my home! You can't just come barging in here," Cheerilee gasps, desperately.

Especially not now, for heavens' sake!

Apple Bloom's head pokes up from behind the Geography shelf with a rather patronizing expression. "If y'all didn't want ponies bargin' in, ya shouldn't live in the library."

Scootaloo's head appears from around the periodicals. "Seriously, you brought this on yourself."

Sweetie Belle trots out from between modern history and the biographies. "Spikey lets us in whenever we want. Twilight, too. She says 'knowledge knows no hour.'"

"That does sound like something she'd say," Cheerilee says, sighing. "But do you see them here right now?"

The three pause, then cast looks about the place as if this was the first they'd even thought to notice.

Apple Bloom shrugs. "Ah guess not."

Cheerilee makes a brief gesture: And what does that tell us?

"We'll make this quick, then," Sweetie Belle says, ducking into the classical novels, A-Li. "It's important."

The library floor is quickly filled with the bustle of the three fillies' rapid search for whatever they were looking for, their excited chatter spilling over each other until it became an incomprehensible cacophony of shrieks, yelps, and brief arguments.

Cheerilee groans, clapping a hoof onto her temple and grinding it there in a vain hope of staving off the forthcoming headache.

It's a big, big world out there, Cheerilee. Did you really think the universe would let you arrange things to your perfect satisfaction without interfering?

It never has before, after all.

She trots over to the stacks, trying vainly to keep track of the three fillies as they scurried from shelf to shelf, carrying huge stacks of books back and forth as they consult with one another. Maybe if she helps them find whatever they're looking for, it'll all be over quickly and they'll be on their way before she arrives.

It was her own fault. She should have been more suspicious of the relatively low level of chaos surrounding the Crusaders, these past couple weeks.

...but she'd had other things on her mind.

She sighs. "I have nopony to blame except myself, I suppose..."

"That's what I was just saying!" Scootaloo says, from somewhere in the arts and crafts section. "Don't get all kissy with a librarian if you don't like it when ponies want to use the library, sheesh!"

"Seriously," Apple Bloom says from somewhere nearby.

"Forgive me if I don't take advice about my love life from you three," Cheerilee replies, trying to keep a growl out her voice. It's taking a lot of effort not to grind her teeth. "Not after what happened the last time. Or the time before that. Or the incident with the love...poison, whatever, for that matter..."

Sweetie Belle pops up from behind a display of poetry selections Cheerilee had helped Twilight pick a few weeks earlier, looking a little incredulous. "Pshhh. What love life? Your girlfriend is Twilight Sparkle. Her idea of a hot date is, I don't know, reading a really, really old book –"

"And what, may I ask, is so wrong with that? When you get a little older, you might learn to appreciate the value of a quiet evening in, yourself," somepony says from the second-story landing.

"Right?" Cheerilee grouches –

And then her mind catches up with her.

Oh, damn!

"Ah, youth," the voice continues, with a contented little sigh. Its tone is perfectly calm and serene, touched with the very slightest hint of deep amusement.

Cheerilee forces herself not to leap, spinning, on her hooves, or to yelp, or even hiss under her breath to betray the sudden rise in her hackles. The part of her which always looks out at the world with a wry grimace suspects it's wasted effort, but there is such a thing as playing to the scene.

"Princess Celestia," she says, as coolly as she can manage, as she looks up. "I was...glad you accepted my invitation."

She's actually relieved to hear the hoofbeats as the princess lets her hooves touch the wood of the landing. But there was something...right, about that. Heavens knew Twilight sometimes just appeared up there when she was in a hurry. The sound of hoof meeting wood just made everything real.

It's a fleeting sensation.

As she turns to take in her visitor, Cheerilee is once again struck – overwhelmed – by the radiance of the princess. Tall, elegant, and...and...

Beautiful. Stunning.

Divine.

In the low light of early evening, Celestia seems to shine – a beacon of brilliant white and splashes of pastel light gleaming amidst the shadows of the second floor, cast by the fading daylight.

Cheerilee feels a sudden impulse to cringe, or shy away from the princess, all her confidence and planning for this moment turning to a twisted, wretched guilt, deep down inside, like a foal caught with wet sheets.

Oh, you're way out of your league now, little Cheerilee...

But she makes herself smile pleasantly, and doesn't look away.

"Cheerilee," Celestia says coolly, their eyes locked on one another's...

But before Cheerilee can burst into embarrassed, guilty flames, the moment of tension is brought to a sudden and catastrophic end.

"Princess Celestia!" shriek the three young fillies in unison, suddenly surrounding her, bouncing up and down in excitement. Cheerilee has to suppress an absurd, relieved giggle with a hoof as the princess casts her head about, trying to keep her calm, but intense expression from breaking into a disconcerted grimace as the Cutie Mark Crusaders swarm her, bombarding her with cheerful greetings and questions.

"Hey! Hey! What's up? Why are you visiting?"

"Are ya stayin' long?"

"Wanna help us find a book?"

"Didya get my letter? Huh? It was only, like, six months ago, right?"

"Hey! Are you coming to Dinky Doo's birthday party next week? She told me she invited you! Ooooh, you should come, she says they're having a piñata! I don't even know what that is!"

"Girls!" Cheerilee barks, in her teacher voice. "Give the princess some room, please!"

The three fillies freeze in place, looking from one mare to the other sheepishly.

"Thank you, Cheerilee," Celestia says, nodding to her in what appears to be honest gratitude, before turning a fond and indulgent look on the Crusaders. "I must say, I'm surprised to find the...notorious Cutie Mark Crusaders here! I didn't know you were joining the three of us this evening..."

Scootaloo's face scrunches up in confusion. "Three of us?"

"Mmm, yes. Miss Cheerilee, myself, and Twilight Sparkle," the princess says. "I was invited to visit for the evening."

"But...Twilight's not here," Apple Bloom says.

Celestia raises an eyebrow, nodding. "You know, I was sure she was busy tonight, myself. I meant to ask about that..."

The princess' eyes flick back to Cheerilee's, and though she is still smiling, the younger mare is forced to reflect that a smile is the last thing a lot of small, squishy creatures ever see, out in the world.

"Disappointing," is all she says.

If there was ever proof that Cheerilee needed to get out more, it was here, in how even in this situation something deep down finds time to clap and cheer at the simplicity and elegance of that statement.

One word! So laden with meaning! It could refer to so many things, all at once!

Brilliant! Full marks! A-plus with a gold star!

And it's aimed at me! Agh!

Cheerilee can't help but squirm in place a bit, even after Celestia turns her faint smile back to the Crusaders.

"Oh, well, maybe she'll be back soon," Sweetie Belle says with an innocent shrug – she doesn't know one way or the other, after all. "We're just here looking something up quick."

"I see," the princess replies. "Well, well! It's so wonderful to know there are young ponies so eager about learning, I must say."

The Crusaders turn a canny look on Cheerilee and, as one pony, wink.

Cheerilee's heart freezes in place while at the very same instant sinking into the depths of her hollow guts, which are at the same time squirming as if filled with a wide variety of creepy-crawlies.

Oh, shi–

"Well, princess, it's only because we have such a wonderful teacher," Scootaloo says, her voice oily enough to lubricate wagon axles.

"Inspiring," Sweetie Belle adds, nodding sagely.

"Ah can't get enough math," Apple Bloom says – and to Cheerilee's private shock, the universe doesn't implode from the incomprehensible magnitude of this lie.

Cheerilee grins desperately as Celestia's eyes flicker back to her, the little smile on her face not moving even an inch.

"You're all very lucky, I'm sure," the princess says, primly.

The Crusaders grin hugely as they nod with ridiculous enthusiasm.

"How about this, girls," the princess says, as if utterly delighted to be assaulted by the three most rambunctious creatures in Equestria short of Pinkie Pie. "If Cheerilee would be so good as to indulge me in the cup of coffee I was promised in her invitation, I'll help you find what you're looking for. It's been a long time since I got to help somepony in a library – and I see Twilight has rearranged everything again, so it'll be a good chance for me to get reacquainted. How does that sound?"

The three fillies cheer loudly and scamper down the stairs, disappearing into the shelves. Celestia follows them, in no particular rush, smiling serenely.

"Two sugars and a spoon of sweet cream?" Cheerilee asks, as she passes.

The princess pauses, ears pricking upwards. She turns a bemused look on Cheerilee. "What makes you think that?"

"That's how Twilight takes it."

Celestia laughs, once. "I've always wondered how she manages to be so perky just after waking up. No, no. I take mine black, and very hot, if you please."

"Because why waste time," Cheerilee's mind adds automatically, while Cheerilee herself is busy bubbling over with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry?"

Cheerilee blinks, and her ears prick up in alarm as she catches up with events. "Oh, nothing, nothing. I'll be right back..."

The princess smiles briefly and slowly walks in the direction of the library stacks where the noise appears to be loudest.

Cheerilee turns away and forces herself not to scramble into the little kitchen set off the main floor, but she cannot prevent herself from collapsing against the wall as the double doors swing shut behind her. She slides down until her rump is resting on the floor and throws back her head, sighing wearily as her eyes close.

She feels a tear of terrified frustration escape her eye, and wipes it away.

Could this be any more messed up?

Although in fairness, it's not like things would have been any more generous to her nerves if they had gone according to plan. But she was at least ready for a bit of a showdown. She had been mentally preparing herself, running conversations through her head and so on, for a week now. She was ready to talk to the princess, to get right down to the nitty-gritty, even if it seemed presumptuous and arrogant in the extreme.

She could have handled that.

But like a storm blowing in off the sea, comes the elemental force of chaos known collectively as the Cutie Mark Crusaders...

Cheerilee sighs through a resigned grin.

Even here in her home, which she had built up to be her fortress this evening, she can't escape them. Not even the princess could, judging from the sounds from the library floor which managed to sneak into the kitchen as Cheerilee rose, setting Twilight's little coffee pot on the stove and lighting the burner. Anytime the princess said anything, it was barely audible over a constant barrage of running commentary from the girls, not to mention the clatter of hyperactive hooves scampering to keep up with the princess' long strides.

"History of Equestria, histories of the gryphons, histories of...hmmm..."

She didn't need to actually see Celestia's face to know that it was currently occupied by a pleasant and indulgent expression; that much was evident just from her voice as she quietly murmured the section titles, her slow hoofbeats punctuating each declaration.

Ha! Even the princess has to think out loud to keep track of where she is when those three are nattering on and on behind her...

"So you're here to talk to Cheerilee, huh?" Scootaloo says, brightly.

"It certainly seems that way. Ah, why is the fiction over here...? Here we go, this is more the right track..."

A brief pause – one in which, Cheerilee realizes, the Crusaders almost certainly are looking from one to the other in what they think is a meaningful way – then Sweetie Belle says: "That's good, that's good..."

"Oh? You think so?"

Another pause. "Yeah."

"Why do you say that?"

Cheerilee, mouth drooping in dread, applies her left hoof directly to her face. Girls, for once in your lives, please think before you speak!

Some muttering ensues, in a couple different voices for whom whispering is obviously something of an untested skill. The words "distracted" and "kind of sad" crop up a few times.

The princess' hoofbeats stop. "Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm. Well, I'll keep that in mind," she adds, in the distracted, but polite tones of somepony whose mind is in six places at once.

"We're just, you know, a little worried about her."

Cheerilee rolls her eyes. If you were willing to swallow "their hearts were in the right place" as an excuse for the things those three got up to, they were practically angels.

"That's very thoughtful of you," Celestia replies, smoothly, before making a satisfied little sound. "Ah, here we are! I knew Twilight wouldn't let any library under her watch go without a copy of Wild Walker and Featherbrain's Exciting Wildlife of Equestria. She was so upset when Spike drooled on the copy she had when she was younger..."

In chorus, the Crusaders made the half-disgusted, half-delighted "Ewwwwww!" of three fillies who, while finding something a little gross, are also already planning to never let Spike forget about it as long as he lived.

Whatever the princess said next was lost on Cheerilee as the coffee pot began to boil violently, threatening to tip over entirely. Cursing under her breath, Cheerilee carefully leapt forward to steady it and killed the burner, grabbing the first two mugs she could find and pouring two full cups of steaming, black coffee on a serving tray.

As she slowly and carefully backed through the kitchen door onto the library floor, balancing the tray on her back, she heard the three girls chattering excitedly as Celestia read to them from the book.

"...and are usually strictly territorial, with the notable exception of mothers watching over their kittens."

Kittens?

Cheerilee's eyebrow raises. For something from Exciting Wildlife of Equestria, that didn't sound very exciting at all.

Well, there is Opalescence, she supposes, but since Wild Walker and Featherbrain were now Granny Smith's age, it seemed unlikely they'd run into Rarity's cat when they'd done their field research for this book.

Maybe a mountain lion – but weren't baby lions usually called cubs?

What else has kittens...? I seem to recall there was something...absurd...

Wait, aren't m–

Her eyes go wide as her jaw drops.

The princess can't see this, of course, so she continues, in her mild tone: "I suppose I should ask, though: why are you three researching baby manticores?"

A brief refrain of ums and ahs, then:

"School project?"

Cheerilee spins on her hooves, letting the tray spill. As she rounds the corner at speed, she sees Celestia's horn light with magic to catch them, her face finally expressing something other than a polite but cool smile. Now it is alert and cautious, stunned by Cheerilee's sudden action and readily apparent fury.

What have you three done this time? I'm going to give you detention so hard your grandfoals will be sitting in the corner until they're eighty!

The three sheepish fillies chuckle nervously as they clutch together in terror.

"What school project?!" Cheerilee snarls.

"Aheh," Apple Bloom manages.

And then, as if on cue, an ear-splitting scream fills the library, spilling in through the little open window left for Twilight's owl to return.

It is followed, after just a moment, by an enthusiastic roar.

Which is itself followed by five or six more.

Cheerilee and the princess glance up at each other, then turn ferocious looks on the Crusaders.

"Start talking," they say in unison.

More roars and screams cut through the night.

"Kids these days, I tell ya," Scootaloo mumbles, between terrified chuckles.

"They sure do grow up fast, don't you think?" Sweetie Belle adds.


• • •


About the ensuing hours, all that need be said is this:

The mommy manticore seemed very happy to have all five kittens back – especially the three female kittens which, though smaller and unable to fly like the males, had gotten old enough to start breathing little bursts of bright blue fire.

Just another exciting evening in Ponyville.


• • •


Cheerilee gives her three favorite pupils a bright smile, sweet as arsenic. "So, what have we learned?"

The library is slightly more full now, but not quite so popular as it had been while the kittens were out playing. As ever, in a crisis everypony seemed to regard it as a place of safety and central authority and/or the source of the problem in the first place, so it had sort of become the de facto crisis management center of Ponyville. Now that all the excitement seemed to be over they were leaving in little packs of twos and threes, chatting animatedly about how this most recent madness had actually been sort of fun, relatively speaking, and how nice it had been to see Princess Celestia again.

Now all that's left are the Crusaders, who sit in rapt, terrified attention on the library floor, and the three unlucky ponies who – after some hoof-twisting – grudgingly admitted to more or less being responsible for them. Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity glower down irritably at the three fillies, although they occasionally take the time to glance up nervously at Cheerilee and the princess, grinning helplessly.

Cheerilee glances out the window as she waits for an answer. It has finally become quiet enough in the library that it is possible to hear Lyra and Bon Bon bickering as they tried to revive the unconscious mayor out in the plaza, where she had fainted on a park bench when a pair of manticore kittens tried to use her as a pouncing toy.

"Well?" she asks the six faces in front of her, which are staring at her in mild horror.

The princess clears her throat politely. Cheerilee looks up at her, and Celestia pats the side of her luminous mane a couple times.

"Hmm? Oh," Cheerilee says, patting out the little fire in her pink curls. It seemed to refuse to want to stay out, which would have freaked her out just a few short months ago – but then, living anywhere near Twilight Sparkle's basement lab taught you a great deal about magical fires being difficult to completely extinguish very quickly. "Thank you."

"My pleasure."

The six figures in front of them swallow, nervously.

Cheerilee sighs. "Let's do a simple, repeat-after-me exercise. Okay? Ready?"

"Ready," the Crusaders squeak.

"Manticores are wild animals, not pets."

"Manticores are wild animals, not pets," the girls intone.

"Good, girls, good!" Cheerilee exclaims in a voice that suggested they'd just gotten perfect marks on a spelling test. "Now: The Everfree Forest is not a pet shop, and if I ever go there again, I promise to get eaten by something scaly instead of bringing it home –"

"Now, now, that's not a promise we can ask them to keep," Celestia interrupts, but she's suppressing a chuckle.

Cheerilee rubs her chin with a hoof, thoughtfully, never letting her gaze move from the three little demons in front of her. "I suppose you're right. Not everything there that might eat them has scales."

The princess purses her lips and nods, as if this was an interesting thought which hadn't occurred to her. "Quite so."

The Crusaders blanch – and this is impressive, considering that two of them have pretty pale coats to start out with.

Rarity starts to say something – undoubtedly something very apologetic and polite – but Applejack and Rainbow Dash nudge her simultaneously, giving her a dirty look telling her to keep her mouth shut before turning frantically placating expressions back to the princess and schoolteacher.

Cheerilee can almost hear their frantic thoughts: please don't kill us please don't kill us please don't kill us –

Celestia steps forward, lowering her head to speak to the Crusaders on more or less equal level. "All joking aside –"

"Who's joking?" Cheerilee mutters, slightly louder than was necessary to say this to herself.

The princess just smiles, her eyes twinkling. "All joking aside, I want to ask you three to stay out of the forest. It's dangerous, both for you and the wildlife, as everypony in Ponyville can tell us after tonight. Agreed?"

The three fillies nod vigorously.

"I understand why you brought the kittens home," Celestia continues. "They must have seemed very cute, and very lonely without their mother. But I think we've had an object lesson in zoology."

Scootaloo clears her throat. "I guess manticores are more like crocodiles than lions, huh?"

There is a moment of extended silence, where everypony stares at her, completely mystified – even, to Cheerilee's mild surprise, the princess.

The little orange pegasus looks around herself blankly for a while, before she huffs and begins waving her hooves wildly. "You know – they, like, they make a nest, right, and then they leave the babies there, sort of hidden, while they go hunt for food. And, you know, you'd think they'd be like lions, because they sort of look like lions but they're not lions, because lions are social animals and also they don't live in Equestria. Well, they used to, but –"

"Stop, stop, stop," Rainbow Dash says. "Not that I'm, you know, mad or anything, but where'd you get all this?"

"From books, obviously," Scootaloo says, before huffing again and continuing in a slightly more petulant mumble. "I'm allowed to know things. It's like, everypony seems so surprised for some reason? I know about all kinds of stuff. I'm smart."

"Oh yeah?" Dash says, before darting her head forward and grabbing one of Scootaloo's ears in her teeth. "If you're so smart, why're you here gettin' yelled at by the princess, huh?"

"Ow ow ow, leggoame!"

"Rainbow Dash, that's enough," the princess says, after a moment or two longer than was maybe absolutely necessary. "I don't think I've been yelling, incidentally."

"Ah could start, if'n ya wanted, Princess," Applejack says, giving her little sister a fierce glare. Her hat, which Cheerilee has not seen her without in years, is noticeably singed in several places. "Ah got a whole burned-down shed fulla yellin' Ah could do."

The princess gives her a smile. "A shed which they've promised to help you rebuild, as I recall."

Applejack rolls her eyes, obviously only slightly assuaged. "Yeah, Ah know..."

"Will that be before or after they help me re-organize all my sewing equipment after the...kittens found my yarn and string, this evening?" Rarity adds, to the general misery of the Crusaders. "If they're good, I might take pity on them and re-shelve all nine hundred and sixty-five spools – in order – myself. If they're very good."

"Ladies, ladies," Celestia says, chuckling. "I think our young friends have gotten the picture. They know they're in trouble."

As one pony, the Crusaders, faces deadly serious, nod one, grave nod.

Cheerilee sighs through a weary grin. "You know, it never seems to last."

"It never does, with some ponies," Celestia says, giving the three adults a somewhat longer glance than she needed to. The three young mares chuckle nervously – Celestia doesn't show up only for the Crusaders' antics, after all...

"Ah suppose you'll want a letter about what we learned, huh, princess," Apple Bloom says, a little mournfully. "Dear Princess Celestia –"

The princess chuckles as she stands up straight and proud again, every inch the merciful princess. "I think we can forego that, this time. I'll do my best to remember, I promise."

"But she's not me, you know? You'll each be writing an essay for me about it to read to the class," Cheerilee says, giving the Crusaders a smug grin as they groan.

Princess Celestia laughs brightly. "I see that you three have a lot of work ahead of you in the next few days, so I think we'd better not keep you up all night telling you how much trouble you're in. I hope the next time we see each other will be under very different circumstances!"

And with that, the conversation is over. The Crusaders and their unlucky minders file out of the front door having a brief, one-sided discussion on a theme of "you three are just lucky the princess happened to be here while Twilight was away, or who knows what would have happened!"

Cheerilee trots slowly behind them, her face split with a mild smile that she is surprised to realize is more or less honest. Somehow, it's impossible to stay mad at those three – or maybe she's just too forgiving after all, like Lyra has always said.

But then Lyra had said that very same thing about getting back together with Twilight, so that just shows what she knew. There's no fault in being forgiving...

Still, it's so strange how sometimes – especially after these little on-point, 'you're in trouble but the important thing is you learned your lesson' lectures – she feels like she exists solely to facilitate and clean up after the Crusaders' latest mayhem, knowing full well that she'd do so again the next time, which was undoubtedly only a few weeks in the future. They may have learned this lesson, but they had quite a few more left to go.

She's so distracted by this rumination that the door closing in her face startles her. She can't help but yelp a little and stumble backwards, falling on her rump.

A chuckle fills the sudden silence of the library. "Lost in thought?"

The evening's activities have been such that Cheerilee doesn't even think about who said this, because it isn't on her mind anymore – she just replies, as if it had been anypony in the world speaking to her. As if it were Spike, or Bon Bon, or Twilight...

"You know, I've lived here in Ponyville for very nearly my entire life," she mutters, staring at the door. "It used to be such a quiet little place. When I went to college, I used to call it boring. It's a little strange how used to this kind of thing everypony has gotten."

"I don't know about everypony. There was a lot of screaming and running around going on, but you –"

"I have always suffered from an exaggerated reputation for keeping a calm head in a crisis, even as a filly. I can't imagine why. But..."

She shrugs.

Somepony has to do it or everything would go crazy every day!

"Then Ponyville is fortunate. That's an excellent quality in a teacher."

Unthinking, Cheerilee turns to look at her companion. "Or in a –"

Her voice freezes in her throat for a second.

"Or in a princess," she finishes, staring up at the radiant figure she'd been raised to obey since she was born. She feels herself cringe.

Oh, heavens...

The princess' eyes move over Cheerilee's features, slowly and carefully. Somehow her calm smile doesn't move even a little, even as it very obviously fades. Strange, that...

"We were doing so well, for a while," she says, sighing with what sounds like legitimate regret.

Cheerilee tries to smile, to apologize, but she has a distant feeling that all she's managing to do is make her lip tremble pathetically.

Princess Celestia looks away from her for a moment, glancing out a window at the veil of stars twinkling in the heavens.

It's almost as if something has let go of Cheerilee, unfreezing her muscles and warming the numbness in her extremities. She gasps for a deep breath of air, desperately, feeling completely foolish.

She snaps her head forward, staring at the grain of the door as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

They had been doing well, up ‘til now...

But then, manticores had a way of making things like the specific identity of your companion irrelevant such that, for example, you might be inclined to physically tackle her out of the way of a playfully-lobbed gout of flame she had appeared not to notice. And you might do this even though your conscious mind had previously watched such flames bounce harmlessly off her, or play across her coat and snuff themselves out like a little puddle of grease, leaving not even the tiniest mark behind.

At that point the conscious mind is not as in charge as it usually is. Manticores, of any size, are very distracting.

Perhaps you might even – because, again, you weren't thinking quite clearly because, e.g. manticores – have a lengthy and sarcastic banter back and forth while dealing with the situation, since your companion seems to find the creatures amusing or cute and is subtly praising the Cutie Mark Crusaders' willingness to look beyond the wings and scorpion tails and take care of what they had thought were abandoned baby creatures. Which, in fairness, might be a worthy thing in general, but in specific was burning Ponyville to the ground. Again.

For example, upon finding Rarity shrieking in a mix of rage and terror as two young manticores (and Opalescence, who seemed to like having playmates) tore through her meticulously-arranged inventory of yarn and string:

"You see? Just kittens, really."

"Except kittens usually aren't as big as a grown stallion! That sort of changes the situation more than a little, don't you think?"

"If they were, perhaps cats would be considered some kind of dangerous animal as well. I think there's a word for it, in fact..."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, of course, but I believe it's 'tiger'."

It was amazing how it was so calming to have somepony to talk to when you're wrangling manticores and/or fashionistas.

But now the manticore family had long since slunk back into the Everfree Forest, the Cutie Mark Crusaders had been properly educated on the brief version of Equestrian law regarding exotic pets ("don't touch that, it'll eat you") and their very distracting presence was no longer, in fact, an issue.

Which leaves little Ponyville's schoolteacher – at her own request – face to face with nopony less than the immortal Sun Princess of Equestria.

Well, back to face, at the moment, but still –

Wasn't this what I wanted in the first place?

Relevant follow up: am I completely insane?

Cheerilee closes her eyes for a moment.

Dig your hooves in, little mare...

They sit in silence for a long moment. Cheerilee notices that there's a little sprig of life managing to grow in a crack – isn't that interesting, she'd have to tell Twilight when she got back from –

"This does not have to be a confrontation, Cheerilee."

The teacher in the young earth pony is impressed. There's no sound, no tone, no inflection that makes this a command; and yet, she knows it is a directive, not an offer. There's a skill to that – it occurs that the Crusaders represented a major test of this ability in anypony, and Cheerilee's still working on it.

She stiffens, to resist the urge to turn and...

And what?

Bow?

She straightens up, sighing out as much stress as possible. "Maybe not for you."

"Ah," the princess says, her voice hushed.

Then she says nothing more.

The only sound may as well be the throb of Cheerilee's heart; but the younger mare doesn't make the error of trying to fill the space.

It's peaceful, in a way, but...

"I see I'm going to have to be very careful with you, Cheerilee," Celestia says, in a tone of voice that suggests she's actually rather pleased. "You seem to know how to deal with other ponies."

"If you don't know the little tricks to help control a classroom or a parent-teacher conference, you aren't much of a teacher," Cheerilee says, treasuring the little flame of pride that flares to life in her chest as she says this.

"I suppose that's quite true," the princess replies, evenly. "Something our mutual friend has yet to learn, I think. She gets so frustrated with ponies talking over one another..."

Cheerilee can't help but grin. "I hope it wasn't you who taught her to yell like that."

“Oh, no, that is pure talent.”

They laugh together...again. They have been doing so all night, so it's an easy reflex, like falling into step automatically – although admittedly it's a little more hesitant than it has been at this particular moment.

Heavens above, this is hard. She's way too easy to get along with!

But...that's the point, isn't it? She wasn't before...

It's Celestia who speaks first, her long, slow hoofbeats meandering over to a window somewhere behind Cheerilee.

"You lied on the invitation," she says, in a matter-of-fact tone that was carefully clean of accusation.

Cheerilee stiffens a little. "I did, yes. Intentionally."

"Why?"

"Honestly?"

A pause – a breath, a heartbeat...

"Of course I would prefer the truth."

She doesn't mean to sigh so desperately, but somehow Cheerilee's body knows better than the mare herself how long it can hold a tense, anxious breath. "Because...I didn't think you'd come if it was just me asking."

Privately, internally, Cheerilee growls.

I had to lure you here somehow. If you're even a little like Twilight, curiosity and suspicion own you. And there's no way that unicorn would grow into the mare she has if you hadn't encouraged her...

"I see." The princess takes a few slow breaths – Cheerilee has an idea she's smiling out at passersby, just for something to keep herself occupied as she thinks of what to say. "You're not exactly what I expected. In my experience, teachers are rarely this...devious."

"What did you expect?"

Ah, now we're getting into dangerous territory.

There's no reply for quite a while. Again, Cheerilee is struck with the strange sensation of being alone with somepony very intelligent thinking very hard and not doing much else – there's a nagging sense of absence, like there ought to be a mechanical clicking or whirring to fill the silence.

Twilight gave off that sense sometimes. She'd just stop, in the middle of what she was doing, and suddenly stare off at nothing in particular, lost in thought, sandwich hanging in midair or whatever.

A comforting, familiar thought. A star momentarily shining through a cloudy night sky.

"She said it to you, too, didn't she," Cheerilee whispers.

"Hm?" The princess has clearly been pulled out of some thought, but she's not the only active party in this conversation, after all.

No, no, I'm getting ahead of myself. Er...

"She told you about me."

"Of course –"

"How much?"

"Not as much as I might like," the princess says, clearly mildly annoyed at being interrupted. There's a heavy suggestion that she's now much more curious about the young mare attached to her faithful student than she had been before. "What is it you think she told me?"

Just remembering it...

It doesn't hurt, the same way some things in Cheerilee's life have hurt. But it's hard to think about, upsetting in a "tight chest and a grimace" way rather than "makes you want to cry".

"'She reminds me of you'," Cheerilee says.

She's actually rather proud of how evenly it comes out, considering.

"I –" the princess begins, then stops.

Well, well, never thought I'd strike the princess speechless.

It'd almost be an accomplishment if she were herself confident in her ability to say anything while retaining any sense of dignity.

But speak she must. This had to be a confrontation, she had to put herself in this position, she had to get in the thick of it...because whatever she or anypony else thought, that's where she was.

This whole elaborate setup, accidental manticores included, was just being open about the truth of things.

She could run away from it...or she could dig her hooves in.

Cheerilee clears her throat. "Our last meeting was, er...very hard for me. It was going to be no matter how it happened."

"Twilight did tell me your life has not been without...personal hardship..."

The princess trails off, again filling the library with the busy silence of her thoughts.

After a moment:

"Your cutie mark," the princess says. "It doesn't mean exactly what you tell everypony, does it."

Cheerilee smiles. It's nice to speak to somepony who doesn't need their hoof held through a conversation...

She sighs, and lets her mind roll back, through time and troubles.

"I've always lived in Ponyville. I was born here, raised here, and even as a filly, I –"


• • •


"Anyways, who died an' made you the boss of me?" Mac snorts.

Even though it'll be years before anypony calls him Big Mac as anything but a joke, Cheerilee has to look up at him. It makes her feel completely ridiculous – and worse, her head barely pokes out above the tall white flowers of the field, as if Macintosh's dumb mutant height wasn't bad enough. But she stares down – er, up at – the gangly red colt regardless.

"Macintosh, don't be an idiot," she growls. "If you try to go into the Everfree Forest again, I'm going right back to your mom and dad to tell."

Behind her brother, a very young Applejack cringes. Them, as Mac would say, are fightin' words.

Mac rolls his eyes. "Ugh...yer so boring, Cheerilee. We were just gonna go in fer a little while, nothin' serious. Run around, maybe find some wild strawberries or somethin'. I done it tons o'times, never got et yet."

"What about the time you fell in the stream and hurt your hoof?" Cheerilee snaps. "Or the time you came back covered in those huge bug bites? Or the time that – "

"Yeah, yeah, ya made yer point," he grumbles. "C'mon, AJ."

The little orange filly gives Cheerilee a sheepish look as she scuttles after her brother.

Cheerilee watches them go, frowning hugely in case that big idiot decides to look and see if she's following him.

Which she is, of course.

Sometimes she feels like a jerk, ruining all the other foals' fun – but only sometimes. The rest of the time she feels like the only sane one among them, and that if she weren't there to catch them, they'd wander all over the place and do nothing but get into trouble. As it was, every time Mac got into a mess and hurt himself or whatever, she felt a huge sense of shame, as if she had some kind of responsibility to him.

The big idiot.

She's here to watch out for other ponies, help them stay safe and grow. That's what makes her feel good – like when she helps the librarian stock the shelves, or when she helps her mom with lessons at school. So what if the other ponies think she's a little boring? She's just trying to help.

She likes being there when other ponies need her, even if they don't really realize it. She's still young enough that she mistakes being bossy for being in charge, but...

That's not a crime, right?

Right.

She'll grow up. Everypony does. The point is she knows that what she truly loves is being able to be there for the ponies who need her, to share what strength and wisdom she can with them, mend their bruises and hurts, and send them back out into the world to cause more havoc.

And as the three young ponies re-enter the more manicured parts of Sweet Apple Acres, Applejack notices that six of the white flowers have followed Cheerilee out of the meadow, emblazoned on her flanks.


• • •


"What...me?"

Big Mac – and my, doesn't he deserve that name now – looks from side to side theatrically before turning a huge grin on Cheerilee. "Well Ah don't see any other young mares around, so...yeah, must be you."

The midsummer night sky over Ponyville twinkles down on them. In the distance, the sound of the big party can be heard from the plaza at the center of town. Cheerilee generally avoided that sort of thing, since it was loud and annoying and she always felt a little out of place and nopony actually ever, uh, wanted to dance with her.

...until now, it seemed.

Cheerilee peers at him. "But you...like, hate me."

"Aw, well, I dunno about hate," Mac mumbles. "Sure, ya read too much and yer always bossin' me around, but, uh..."

"But, uh...what?"

Mac slumps. "But my gramma smacked me over the head and said, 'why d'you think she's always chasin' after you, ya great lummox?' An' then she said that, uh, Ah should be thankin' my lucky stars anypony cares even half that much for a half-wit cowpoke like myself an', uh..."

One of Cheerilee's ears flaps in irritation. This resembles the way her mother is forever teasing her in a truly eerie way.

It's not that she likes Mac. She's just...used to him, you know? She'd known him all her life.

They'd had some really good times together – and some kind of bad ones, too, so it's not like they're best friends or anything! Don't get all mushy about this!

She sort of felt responsible for him, was all. She didn't like seeing him hurt. Everypony else just saw a big, dumb stallion who talks half as much as he thinks, but she knew him better than that. She knew that deep down, he's honest and hard-working and cares about his family more than anything. He's a good pony and he deserves to be treated right.

That's all.

"Oh," she says. "I see."

Mac looks away, and –

How is it even possible for him to blush?

"Ah...well, Ah did some thinkin' on it, an' Ah figure...I could do a lot worse'n somepony who's always been there for me, even when I'm bein' a bit thick."

"So what – always?"

They share a nervous laugh at this tired old joke, but her traitor brain grins, saying: Miss Cheerilee, I do believe this is a cliché.

"Cheerilee, either come back in or go out," her mother calls from the kitchen, in a tone of voice that barely concealed a huge grin. "Don't just stand there in the doorway with your mouth hanging open, you're letting in a draft."

Mac gives her a look. The kind every young mare in Ponyville of an inquiring mindset privately wishes he'd give them.

Parts of Cheerilee want to run, hide, not indulge the very urgent thoughts currently presenting themselves, not all of which were located in her brain. Go back to your room, they said. It's quiet there, and you can catch up on your reading. Canterlot University doesn't accept you just for wanting to go there.

But suddenly that seems less appealing than it usually does. For some reason.

Curiosity, maybe.

Yeah, that's it.

"Well, all right," she says, playing at a growl. "Maybe one dance won't kill me. And Bon Bon will be there, so I suppose I'll have somepony else to talk to."

Mac grins.

"But just the one dance, got it?" she says, as she shuts the door behind her with a decisive kick, fully intending never to open it again.


• • •


They do it in the barn.

The house is too quiet now, and they'd be caught. Applejack and Apple Bloom are still a bit too young to hear about what sort of mischief young stallions and mares can get into if they're left alone for too long – and worse than that, Granny Smith might make suggestions.

Cheerilee's breathing is beginning to slow down now, as her body settles from the delightful throes of orgasm. The hastily-piled hay scratches at her back, but she barely notices; her body is still focusing on the soreness caused by...receiving Mac.

Heavens, no, don't think of it that way!

Of making love to Mac.

But there's a part of her that cannot lie to herself.

The same part keeps talking, despite her sudden intense desire to shut it up, ignore it, cast it out. It says: he doesn't even look at me afterward. He barely comes around to meet me, I have to go find him –

He's a busy stallion these days, now that Ma and Pa Apple are gone –

Not until harvest he's not. He spends half his time just sitting out in the fields

He's working

And the other half chasing after any mare who looks at him twice

That was just the one time

Three times, be honest, so what if I caught him before things got too far along

He apologized

At least I get that much from him

"Mac?" she whispers.

He turns to her. He'd been staring up at the ceiling. "Hm?"

"I love you," she says.

And the terrible thing is...she really, really does.


• • •


Just...breathe. Maintain. Keep walking...

Don't start crying like some lovesick filly. You're a grown earth pony, not one of those wilting unicorn maidens from those old courtly romances...

The door opens and Cheerilee tries to sneak in, unnoticed. She'll slip up to her room, and –

Something.

Anything.

But alas:

"Cheerilee!" Bon Bon shouts, almost pouncing on top of her into a great big hug. "Oh, heavens, where'd you run off to?"

"Wha – "

Cheerilee's mother appears from the kitchen, holding a slim letter in an uneasy grin. The ribbons on the wax seal are –

Red and white.

"Fillydelphia," Cheerilee says, staring.

Bon Bon pulls away to give Cheerilee a huge smile. "I got mine, too! They want us to go there for orientation next week! And there's a form, we can be roommates – "

"Yeah, Bon Bon, that sounds...yeah. Great."

The other young mare blinks, her smile fading, and backs away slightly so that Cheerilee's mother could put a hoof on her daughter's shoulder. It was supposed to be a gesture of comfort, maybe, but it feels like she's being nailed to something.

"Cheerilee, honey, I know you wanted to go to Canterlot, but that's just not...it wasn't...you didn't..."

She looks away, politely not attacking her daughter with the harsh lash of the truth.

Cheerilee is not so kind to herself.

But I didn't get the application materials in quite on time. I was lucky they even reviewed them.

But I didn't do as well on the tests as I could have because I was up at Sweet Apple Acres every night that week instead of studying, and went into the exam on three hours sleep, my whole body still sore from being with...with...him. Trying to make him feel something.

But I wasn't...wasn't...

"I wasn't good enough," Cheerilee murmurs, lip trembling.

Bon Bon swallows – and even in the throes of today, Cheerilee knows she's biting back hurt. She's always been really upset that her only other mare friend who was going to college wanted to go somewhere else, somewhere more prestigious. They'd even had a fight about it, and it had taken every ounce of self-control she had for Cheerilee not to accuse her friend of being happy she was rejected...

Cheerilee's mother shakes her head. "No, honey, you know that's not true. And look, Fillydelphia is a wonderful city, very old, lots of history – and your father went to school there, he had nothing but good things to say about it – "

"That's not it," Bon Bon whispers, interrupting the stream of platitudes. "It's about Mac, isn't it. Something's happened..."

Cheerilee feels put on the spot – on stage – as her mother pulls away, eyes wide with sudden shock.

Time to put on a show. Express herself. Weep, cry, make a scene, let it all out –

But all that comes is a hollow, empty bark of a sob.

"I wasn't good enough," she manages to croak. "He needed – I – he – ah..."

Suddenly they're both there, hugging her, shushing her, rubbing her back and telling her it'll be alright.

But among the sympathies is:

"It's for the best."

Cheerilee throws her hooves wildly, tossing the other two ponies off of her, howling with rage.

"Don't you understand?! That's what he said, too!"


• • •


Again she's in the house she grew up in, with two other mares – but she's much, much older now. Only a few years older, maybe, but what's time got to do with the price of apples?

"You have got to be kidding me," Lyra says, staring at her in utter disbelief.

Cheerilee just swallows, staring out the front window like she did on winter days like this when she was a foal. Just watching snow fall from the sky, ever so gently. Just breathing, and watching, and existing.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Lyra shakes her head, shrugging off Bon Bon's attempt to calm her with a little restraining hoof on the shoulder. "Let me get this perfectly straight. I mean, I've known you for what, three years now? And let me tell you, it's like watching a trainwreck go on in slow bucking motion. First there was the partying – Bon Bon's told me all those horror stories from when you were roommates, the ones you didn't tell me yourself. Then there was that professor, what's his name? Like, ignoring how weird that was, he cheated on you constantly and then got nailed when one of them turned out to be underage? Then there was bucking Green Hoof. Mister I'm Going To Use Cheerilee As a Maid While I Sit Around Getting High With My Idiot Friends – "

Bon Bon raises a hoof, looking uneasy. "Lyra, that's – "

"What? That's enough?" the unicorn snaps, her tone softening only slightly to speak to her lady friend. "Bon Bon, she needs to hear this. We're her friends – well, I try to be, anyways. But that's hard when we barely ever see her because she's working two jobs, doing a double-major, passing a six month teaching internship, and cleaning up after a bunch of stoners who spend what little rent money they bother to make on dreamleaf and junk food every bucking month – "

"Lyra!" Bon Bon shouts.

It's so strange to hear Bon Bon's voice raised in anything but joy that it actually moves Cheerilee from her weird, empty serenity. She turns a dull gaze on her two friends – her only two friends, really – and sees an equally rare sight: Lyra looking even a little humbled.

"I'm just saying – "

"Go home."

"Bon, I'm just – "

"Go. Home."

Cheerilee's eyes listlessly follow Lyra as she slinks out of Cheerilee's mothers' house. The unicorn bothers to give her a grumpy glare as she steps out into the cold.

Bon Bon watches her go through the little window in the door before turning to Cheerilee, not looking much happier than Lyra. "Macintosh, Cheerilee? Are you out of your mind?"

Cheerilee looks away, staring out at the grey sky again.

"We haven't been back three days and you're already chasing after Mac, of all the stallions in Ponyv – "

"I just wanted to see how he was doing."

Bon Bon pauses, shocked for a moment, maybe even tempted to be generous and believe this carefully worded half-truth; but before long she settles into a frown again. "You know how he's been doing. Applejack told you how he's been doing, and a long list of with whom he's been doing it, and more to the point, gave you some good advice to keep your distance."

"I've been his friend – "

"He's not the same pony we knew. There's something...wrong with him. He's worse than he ever was now. Something you can't help by – "

Cheerilee's head snaps to Bon Bon, who actually recoils from the ferocity of her gaze.

But to the other mare's credit, she rallies immediately and tries to say her two bits anyways. "Letting him sleep with you is not going to – "

"He wouldn't even touch me," Cheerilee hisses.

Oh, heavens, I'm going to cry...

As always, Bon Bon is there to catch her when she's falling, literally and figuratively. Warm hooves catch her and there's a shoulder which is probably permanently sodden with her tears ready and waiting for another torrent.

She lets herself cry for awhile. It was going to happen anyways, and at least this way, somepony was hugging her.

"Lyra's right, you know," Bon Bon whispers between the sobs, stroking Cheerilee's back. "She's angry because she cares about you, but doesn't know how to make you understand. You've been there for both of us so many times, and we love you so much. It kills her to see you letting yourself be taken advantage of."

"I just...I just want to help!"

"Shhh...I know, Cheerilee. I know. You really do have a thing for charity cases. But..." Bon Bon shakes her head. "Sometimes ponies just can't be helped. Or don't want to be helped, I don't know...you have to wait for the ones who are worth it. Who deserve your help..."

Cheerilee pounds a listless hoof against her friend's chest. "Everypony deserves help."

"No, you're right. But you're just one mare, honey. You can't do everything."

“Yes! Yes I can! I'm better than this. I can do it. I used to be able to...

Bon Bon pulls away so she can give Cheerilee a long, sad look. "Heavens above...you really believe that, don't you..."

"Yes!"

"Well...we're back in Ponyville," Bon Bon says, with a heavy sigh. "Your mom's retiring and giving you the school job, right?"

Cheerilee sniffles and nods. Bon Bon nudges her so that they're just lying next to each other, backs propped up against a couch.

"You're going to have a bunch of little ponies who will need you to be there for them. Focus on that."

Cheerilee stares out at the snow for awhile, not really thinking about anything.

"Yeah."

"And as far as...you know, other adults..."

"What?"

Bon Bon gives her a sad smile. "You have a serious thing for charity cases, hon. Serious, like – like, so you are one, now."

They laugh, weakly, and Bon Bon takes a maroon hoof into her own.

“Focus on Cheerilee. Be Miss Cheerilee, the schoolteacher, sweet and kind and always there, just like your mom was for us when we were young.”

"Okay."

Bon Bon squeezes the hoof and smiles. "You have so much to give. I've always admired how strong you are. But wait for somepony who deserves it. Somepony who both needs and wants you."

And while Cheerilee grins and agrees...privately, she knows she's going to be waiting a long, long time.

Not even Mac wanted her anymore.


• • •


The sounds of the princess shifting anxiously behind her barely register on Cheerilee's attention. She throws her head back, tears flowing freely down her face as she smiles hugely.

"And that's how I was when, a few years later...I met her. And everything...happened...until that day. That wonderful day..."


• • •


She let go.

Cheerilee can hardly believe it. She stares at the freed hoof, which still aches a bit from how desperately Twilight had been clinging to it.

"You should go. I don't want to hurt you anymore."

She wants to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness.

How is this – pushing her away – the most loving thing anypony has ever done for her?

It's for your own good.

Oh, heavens above...

She can see Twilight Sparkle's heart breaking in front of – no. That's not quite right.

She can see Twilight Sparkle breaking her own heart because she absolutely doesn't want to hurt Cheerilee anymore.

I don't deserve this.

She doesn't.

She'd gotten scared, caused a dumb fight because...of stupid, petty, small reasons. Every time she thought about it since, she'd wanted to slam her head against a wall until one of the two caved in.

I didn't deserve it when Mac did it, either. I didn't help him. I couldn't – I...

She's been here before. With Green Hoof – she'd tried to leave him, so many times. Lyra and Bon Bon would try to get her to leave him for months and months, and once she worked up the nerve he always begged and pleaded and promised to do better. And he would, for a week or so, but then it would all start over again...

But he never even thought of letting her go. Never thought: am I hurting Cheerilee...?

"Do you really love me?" she asks. She wants to hear it.

Green Hoof had never really loved her. He left her when he realized she wouldn't follow him back to Trottingham to be his live-in servant after college. She'd been smart enough in the end to know the engagement ring he waved in her face may as well have been shackles.

Meanwhile, Lyra gave up a life of comfort and ease in Canterlot just to stay with her Bon Bon. That was love.

And so is this. Oh, heavens, so is this.

"More than anything," Twilight gasps. Her eyes are wet with desperate tears, and Cheerilee can almost hear her mind pleading to be trusted and believed.

"Look me in the eye, and – "

"I love you!"

What strange hell does Cheerilee live in where letting go is the way ponies show they love her...?

"If I give you this chance..." she whispers, trailing off as she feels more and more ridiculous trying to hold out.

"I'll only need the one. I promise."

Deep down, something whispers that she'll just be disappointed again –

But she's surprised to find that it's not the part of her that always knew Mac was drifting. No – it's the part of her that refused to believe it.The part that is now so beaten and hurt that it has, in the depths of her despair, used her mouth to say that there's no such thing as love, and that's she's always been an idiot for believing otherwise.

The cynical part of her, the part that refused to face anything but the truth says:

If anypony deserves it, she does.

And the sex is just incredible, so...

"I'm so stupid," she says, but that's not really to Twilight. "I just can't say no..."

"You won't regret it this time. I promise," Twilight says, crushing her in a hug.

They pull apart, just slightly, so they can stare deeply into each other's eyes, both weeping with joy.

"I love you, Twilight Sparkle," Cheerilee says.

And the terrible thing—in the classical sense of terrible, which is to say both transcendentally joyous and overwhelming in its gravity—is that she really, really does.


• • •


Her throat is sore now.

That's fine. She's done talking for now; Cheerilee feels like she's been wrung out or squeezed empty. If she looked in a mirror, instead of the curves of a mature earth pony mare, there'd be a strung out, stick-like creature that was more bone than pony.

The princess is silent for a very long time. But whereas before she seemed preoccupied with thought to an almost physically oppressive degree, now she's just...not saying anything. Not doing anything.

Minutes drag on.

For the very first time in her entire life, Cheerilee wishes the Crusaders would burst in, screaming or laughing – or the very worst, looking pleased with themselves.

Hey, it worked before, didn't it?

"I have always found that it is one thing to accept the way things are," the princess says, suddenly, "and quite another to accept that they are supposed to be that way. And strangely, somehow, it is positive things that are the hardest to accept."

Cheerilee chuckles weakly. "Yes."

"Especially when your right to those things are...directly challenged."

"Yes. An in the past I've made the mistake of not...saying that. Not challenging it, in my mind. Not expressing it. But this time –"


• • •


There's enough left of Cheerilee's need to always be watching out for others in control of her brain that she felt a tremendous streak of shame for this display of...

Weakness. Vulnerability. For this glut of shameful admissions, this show of weakness, this –

For openly and intentionally telling Twilight Sparkle the truth.

But there was no escaping it anymore, not really. To deny it any longer would almost be like hiding from Twilight; lying to her. And now that she'd met Celestia, suffered that...it was all just out there to be said.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. But...I just...I..."

Twilight cradles her in her hooves, gently rocking her. She's crying, too – it's hard for her to listen to Cheerilee go on about her life at length in this way. "It's okay. I...well...I sort of..."

"What?"

"I mean, I knew things were hard for you, but...no, it's all over. It's okay. It's all over, now. I'm here. I love you."

"Oh, Twilight..." Cheerilee moans, swallowing a thickness in her throat borne of her mind rebelling against this.

Don't tell her this! Don't tell her how afraid you are, how you don't know if you're capable, how you've always considered yourself –

"I've failed so many ponies – I almost – "

"Don't say that," Twilight says, squeezing her. "You didn't and you haven't, Cheerilee, you have not."

Cheerilee presses a hoof to her beloved Twilight's lips and weakly shushes her. "Twilight, I have. Whether you think so or not, I think so. And that's important."

Twilight – oh, wonderful Twilight – closes her eyes and nods despite the pained grimace on her face.

"I love you, Twilight Sparkle," Cheerilee whispers. "But I...I kind of hate myself."


• • •


"You weren't even a pony to me that night," Cheerilee continues, speaking through a humiliated frown. This was hard enough with Twilight. "You were...everything I'm not. Everything I can't be. I'm not immortal, or magic, or even particularly calm in myself. You have always been there for her, no matter what, for her entire life; all I can do is my best for her...and it's amazing how that seems like it'll never be enough, with you there sitting over her."

The princess' wings fluff, almost silently. "I won't insult you with a pleasantry. But that leaves me with very little to say, except that I am sorry to cause you so much pain."

"Well...it's not really your fault." Cheerilee shrugs. "But...it's true, anyways."

"I'm still sorry."

"Thank you."

They pause, and the princess begins pacing slowly around the library behind Cheerilee, humming gently under her breath. Cheerilee closes her eyes and just listens, feeling drained. The sound was actually quite soothing, although strangely tuneless.

Eventually the princess stops pacing and takes a deep breath. "Can we continue this conversation face to face? As if we have any wits about us whatsoever?" she asks, in a tone of utterly false joviality – the strained, unhappy sort of sound of somepony expecting bad news.

Cheerilee's ears prick up.

If I thought things were hard before...

She's always been too smart for her own good.

That's always been part of the problem, why she gets neck-deep with ponies. She sees patterns. Stories, almost.

They're utterly compelling; when her mind puts them in order, she can't stop seeing them until she's proven wrong.

In Twilight's case, for example, she'd seen nothing but honest love and affection, as well as a partner who really understood what a good roll in the hay was meant to be like. To be honest, it had been confusing for her...at least, at first.

In Lyra, she saw a unicorn whose only emotional outlet was anger and frustration, because being raised in Canterlot by emotionally stunted unicorn nobility whose ideas of upbringing had more to do with teaching manners and ettiquette than expressing love and understanding was a recipe for madness.

In the Crusaders, honest hearts attached to an ambition and sense of purpose six times too large for their growing minds and bodies.

In Rarity, a nervous filly trying not to show that she feels overgrown in a mare's body.

In Mac, an absence she just couldn't seem to fill, no matter how hard she tried...

What she thought she knew about Celestia, now...

Mom always said I was so sharp I'd cut myself someday...

"Well, see, that's the thing," Cheerilee says, as calmly as she can manage. "Who am I going to see, when I turn around?"

The stillness of the moment is such that in order to tread water, Cheerilee's mind focuses on how wrong it is that quiet is associated with peace.

That's twice I've rendered her speechless, now. I wonder if there's a medal –

"I'm...not entirely sure I understand what you just said," the princess says, carefully.

Cheerilee sighs. "I don't think Twilight realized how hurtful comparing us would be – but then, she had no reason to. I didn't even really understand how deep my anger at myself went."

The princess says nothing.

Heavens, is she even breathing? Does she have to?

What am I doing? Am I insane? Why did I call her here? I'm going to ruin everything –

As if she'd called out for help, Mac's lazy smile appears in her memory—and ever so slowly spreads across her face. 

"I was pretty messed up after that night. But I got some good advice from an old friend. He told me: dig your hooves in, little mare," she says, in a weak approximation of Mac's deep voice and accent. "Don't back down for anypony."

"Cheerilee, I really don't want to fight with you –"

"Are we fighting?"

To Cheerilee's relief, the princess snorts irritably. "From what you're saying, I have to assume you –"

"Princess, the pony I've needed to face my whole life is myself," Cheerilee says, as she mentally stamps on the parts of herself that were even now screeching at her to beg the princess' forgiveness. "I don't think Mac realized what I'd take from what he said, but Twilight definitely did."

"I would expect nothing less from her."

A bit colder than I might have expected from a doting teacher. Isn't that interesting...

"So I've been thinking a lot about things since then," Cheerilee continues. "Twi has been right there with me the whole time. And she's taken a lot of pains to make me understand that when she told me – told us – that we remind her of each other...it's all good things."

The princess' breathing is far, far too slow for a living thing, especially one her size.

Cheerilee pushes that aside – it's not actually important.

Maybe.

Ah, I love you Twilight, but you owe me so much for this, even if it goes wrong...

"But something about all of it troubled me," Cheerilee makes herself continue.

The princess sighs. "Forgive me if this seems...arrogant, but it's not a fair comparison for anypony –"

"Of course not, of course not. But think about it – how would she describe you? Like, not what traits, but as what?"

There is the slightest possible pause.

"As a teacher," the princess whispers.

Cheerilee grins.

We are on to something!

Now watch as it's one of Twilight's experiments gone wrong blowing up in my face...

Still, she's encouraged. Her voice is eager and excited, as if she's talking while running – she sort of is, really.

"The very same way my students describe me, in fact. Down to the word, sometimes, although because Twilight is Twilight, usually a much longer synonym. And it occurred to me to think about that, you know? How similar are we, really?"

The princess says nothing.

Cheerilee stares at the little plant growing from grit trapped in the crack in the door. What a precious little thing, struggling to grow in a hostile, frightening place...but the green stood out boldly against the worn wood. It was probably some kind of weed, but weeds are living things, too.

"I love teaching. It's very fulfilling for me, as my little, er, monologue there can probably tell you," Cheerilee says, a bit abashed. "But part of what's...necessary about it is that there's a structure. There are roles. I am the teacher and because I am the teacher, I have to be a little less than a pony. Do you know what I mean?"

"I think I have an idea," the princess says.

"Not quite a lie, right? There's just things I sort of keep to myself. Emotions, thoughts, impulses. I have to be in control; I have to always be trustworthy and gentle and nonthreatening to my students. And it means I have to be careful in the rest of my life, too – if a parent caught me drunk, or in Bon Bon's shop, it would hurt my credibility..."

"That would be the rather...exciting shop down the street from Sugar Cube Corner?"

"That's the one."

Oh, how Cheerilee wished she could see the princess' face just then...

"I see your point."

"So I have a lot of 'friends, but', if you know what I mean," Cheerilee says. "Friends, but I'm the schoolteacher, so I'm always friendly and polite, never use harsh language, am never out of control, don't have a sex life except when I'm at home having it, if you see what I mean. Friends, but when there's a crisis – manticores, for example – I resemble an authority figure, a voice that can be trusted to know what to do. And so on."

"Friends, but you're the teacher, so you're in charge..."

Celestia's voice is too reasonable, too even, too thoughtful, to be anything but under her absolute control.

"Exactly," Cheerilee says.

The princess adjusts herself, a strange sound of hooves and feathers moving very slightly. "What are you getting at?"

"I have been raised to worship you – we all are, in a sort of...quiet way," Cheerilee says. "I've read odes and sonnets and poems dedicated to you since I was able to. You're supposed to be above mortal concerns, beyond the little foibles of us poor brief creatures. Powerful, wise, beautiful...and you are. And that's how Twilight, who knows you as well as anypony in Equestria describes you –"

"In the same words your own students use to describe you, yes, I follow," Celestia says, with a very tiny hint of impatience. "What do you conclude from this?"

"Nothing," Cheerilee admits. It's true, after all. "I don't know. That's why I'm asking: who will I speak to, when I turn around?"

"You'll see me. There is nothing else to see."

Cheerilee's guts clench.

Here goes nothing...

"And who is that?" Cheerilee says. She has to force it out, so it's a little strangled, but it's still at least a little decisive. "I'll see Celestia, yes. But will it be Her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia of the Sun, who came in her majesty at the behest of a desperate subject – perfect, beautiful, untouchable? The immortal, wise creature who is above mortal concerns?"

"Who else –"

"Or – or, will it be the – the other mare?" Cheerilee manages, swallowing. "The one I only thought to suspect existed before tonight – but now, the one I know I was out chasing manticores with? The one who was making fun of me for not finding monsters the size of Big Mac cute? The mare who has to wear a crown, and hides parts of herself because that's what has to happen?"

For a long time there's nothing. No sound. No breathing, no shifting, no...anything.

Cheerilee has been afraid before. But this...

Dig your hooves in, little mare.

If this is going to go wrong, at least let it go completely wrong.

She clears her throat. "Because to be perfectly honest I think...I think that's the pony Twilight loves. The mare I remind her of. And...and I think..."

"What do you think?"

The princess' voice...

Again, too even. Too controlled. Too...perfect.

A tear slowly wanders down Cheerilee's face. She'd been in the middle of grading a spelling test when everything had clicked into place, and she'd had to take a long walk when she realized the immensity of it, because being out in public helps you hold yourself together a bit.

The idea was painful, and that she was never meant to know was a tragedy.

"I think that if what I suspect is true, I'm part of something that's hurting her. And I'd really, really, rather not be."

"And...how, exactly, are you hurting this mare, do you think?"

Cheerilee bites her lower lip. "When Twilight told me I remind her of you, what my mind heard is that I'm a version of her magical, immortal princess that can actually be touched. But when Twilight said that to this other mare...I think she heard..."

"Yes?"

Heavens above, it's terrifying. If what I'm saying is even remotely true, it's like listening to somepony dispassionately describe a doctor cutting off a limb with a bonesaw as it's happening...

“I think she heard that she was being...outgrown. Replaced.”

Silence.

Cheerilee knows the princess is baiting further details, and she probably shouldn't rise to it, but she can't control herself anymore. "I have things to ask whoever I see. But the conversation I have with the princess would be very different than the one I have with...er, the other mare."

The princess takes a long, deep breath, before speaking in the same even, almost emotionless tone as she had before. "What do you know about the theorem Twilight is presenting in Manehattan this evening?"

Cheerilee frowns. Talk about a change of subject!

"Not much, to be honest."

"It's based on a thought experiment she and I came up with one afternoon," the princess continues, as if nothing at all was amiss and they were merely passing time. "The scenario is that you find a room, with only one solid-piece door and no windows, and put a cupcake in it on a plate, and then put Pinkie Pie in the room and lock the door."

"So...you feed Pinkie Pie a cupcake? Does that really prove anything?"

“Well, as you may know, one of Pinkie Pie's peculiar phobias is that she will explode twice—I'm not sure how she thinks that will happen, or what put it in her mind, but it's not really important—so before locking the door, you tell her that eating the cupcake will make her do so.”

"Will it?"

"It's not really important whether it will or it won't, but on the whole, I suspect not."

"Ah." Cheerilee can't help but grin – save for the voice, she swears that if she turned around now, her purple unicorn would be there speaking, eyes closed in a pose of truly incontrovertible academic assurance.

"So the question, you see, is whether her temptation to eat the cupcake will override her fear of exploding at any given time after you lock the door. The interesting magical possibility, which had not occurred to me until Twilight proposed it, is that the cupcake is both eaten and uneaten at the same time...until you check."

Cheerilee blinks.

Well, that does sound like the sort of strange thing she would think up, yeah.

"Interesting," she says.

"It is. And the implications for Twilight's research are truly staggering."

"That may be. But I'm an earth pony – so I know the real answer."

"Oh?"

"Whether the cupcake is eaten or not is entirely up to Pinkie Pie. It's a choice...just like everything else."

It's a heavy moment. Like the whole universe is holding its breath, watching from the edge of its seat...

"Then...choose."

Cheerilee takes a deep breath...and turns around.

The Princess of the Sun looms over her, huge and powerful, wings spread like the very sky...

Cheerilee's ears stand on end – and so does her coat. Celestia is glowing, shining like a fire, and the air feels thick and oily like it does when Twilight's messing with the lightning rod on top of the Library.

"I am Celestia, Princess of the Sun," the princess declares, in a voice which booms and rings for Cheerilee alone. "My existence is a fundamental part of the way the universe operates – the very sun and moon are mine to manipulate and control..."

Dig your hooves in, little mare!

Cheerilee struggles with her limbs, which are begging her to bend, prostrate herself before this monstrous power...

This is my home. My place! I will not be cowed in my own home...not by anypony!

"I have seen things that words cannot convey. I have heard the voices of things that cannot speak. I have walked through time, unchanged and unworn..."

The princess' eyes are blazing white, almost painful to look at. Cheerilee forces her watering eyes to meet them nevertheless, holding herself upright with stiff legs. Her joints already ache after mere seconds of effort against an almost physical need to bend, to break before this...this...before...

"I have seen generations of ponies born, grow old, and die, and yet I remain..."

Just...keep...holding...your...place...

Don't back down...for anypony!

Not even her! Not even...me!

The light is blinding, consuming everything, burning hot on her skin like the heat from an open furnace –

And then it's gone.

Cheerilee blinks. "Huh?"

The library remains, unscarred by any force, as if nothing at all had happened. The shelves sit in their rows, the displays remain, the place wasn't on fire – although that wouldn't have been an immediate source of unusual concern, considering who lived there.

The princess is no longer in front of her –

"All of that is the truth.. I am ancient and powerful and wise and...ancient," somepony says, from one of the reading couches. "But you're right, Cheerilee. That is only part of who I am..."

Cheerilee spins on her hooves...and indeed, the princess is gone.

But Celestia remains – smiling, as always, but...quietly. A sad smile, verging on defeated.

“Now my charms are all o'erthrown // And what strength I have's mine own // Which is most faint: now, 'tis true // I must be here confined by you...” the other mare, who is and is not the princess, whispers, almost to herself.

Cheerilee, stunned, can only quote scripture and verse from old habit. "That's...Shaking Beard's A Storm At Sea. Act Five, Epilogue..."

"The Wizard's final speech when he gives up magic and goes back to Equestria, after years of self-imposed exile, yes. Twilight said you're one for the classics."

She's smaller – still large for a mare, but smaller perhaps than Macintosh. The flowing, multihued mane which usually billowed around her like a cloud is gone; in its place is a startlingly short length of pale pink, cut in two neat, even lines.

Just like Twi–

"Who do you think taught her to trim her mane?" Celestia asks, weakly. "The art of it is learning to move something with magic in a straight line while you can't see it. It's very tricky for a young unicorn. Not a very dynamic style, I know, but –"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on," Cheerilee sputters, waving a hoof. "What – what is this? Is this...like, really you? Your real self, or something?"

The other mare sighs – and unlike the princess' even sigh, which only seemed to go as far as her head and stop somewhere in her powerful neck, this sigh slumps the shoulders, fluffs the wings, twitches the hooves...

"In a magical sense, Twilight is right to say that the cupcake is eaten and uneaten at the same time," Celestia says, raising an eyebrow. "But you are right to say it's Pinkie's choice which one is what really happens."

"So...this is..."

Celestia looks up at Cheerilee, and even though her face is even and solemn, the earth pony is struck with an immense sense of weariness. Not really at anything – it's the face of somepony who's stayed awake for too many nights, figuratively speaking.

She is like Twilight...

The princess blows an errant lock of mane out of her eyes and, in doing so, seems to notice the crown that still rests atop her head. Even that was smaller, less magnificent – Cheerilee, a dyed-in-the-wool lover of words, would be tempted to call it a tiara or a coronet now, a thin strip of gold with three small tines rather than the proud thing that usually sat atop the brow of Her Royal Highness.

Golden magic power flows over it, and it rises gently from her head and is set on a reading table.

Celestia looks up at Cheerilee, and smiles faintly.

"I often take off my crown – it's very heavy, and itches behind the ears if I wear it too long, to be perfectly honest. But it has been a very long time since anypony has asked me to take off the idea of the crown..."

Cheerilee's ear flaps anxiously. "My – my lady..."

"Oh, please, don't call me that now, for heaven's sake," Celestia says, chuckling. "Isn't your whole point how tiresome it can be when ponies only ever talk to your crown...Miss Cheerilee?"

“I, er—I didn't mean to say that I'm—er...”

The princess chuckles. "I noticed even adults call you that."

"It's who I am to them, I suppose," Cheerilee says, slumping a little. "Even ones I've known since they were foals themselves...no, especially those."

The other mare laughs, a little harshness in it that would have been unthinkable from the placid, cool expression of the princess. "There's no escape for those of us doomed to feel it's our responsibility to chase after our little ponies and keep them from destroying civilization, once again..."

Celestia sighs again.

It's bizarre to see her body moving so naturally; like how seeing an animal you've only ever seen pictures of in real life strikes as somewhat unreal, because this one is moving, in all the tiny ways living things do.

"'Friends, but'. What an interesting way to put it..."

Cheerilee lets the silence drag on for long enough to be sure Celestia didn't have anything more to add to this.

Oh, so I have to broach the topic. But like she says, no escape...

And I sort of...hoped this would happen, didn't I. Nothing for it, then...

"Friends, but...I'm the princess," she says.

"Oh, my, yes."

"Friends, but...I'm your mentor," Cheerilee continues.

"Indeed."

"Friends, but...I'm old to the point that it doesn't matter how old, really. Friends, but I'll always be more powerful than you. Friends, but I have other responsibilities and things to attend to, most of which I don't really care for. Friends, but there will always be a but –"

"Enough! Please," Celestia says, raising a hoof. She's panting, and a tear is running down her face. "I think you understand."

"That may be, but...I think you should tell me anyways," Cheerilee says, stepping forward.

The other mare looks up at her, almost shocked.

"Some things have to be said," Cheerilee continues, climbing up beside Celestia on the couch. "Some things I don't know, not really. Some things I only guessed at from what I could puzzle out. But most importantly...um..." She looks up at this strange creature, trying to give an encouraging smile. "Maybe...maybe there are some things even a goddess shouldn't have to go through alone."

Celestia smiles.


• • •


It's always been quiet here, but now...

Now there isn't even the quiet ring of Twilight's magic, or the sound of pages turning, or the subtle hiss of a scaly tail being dragged across the floor, grabbing another stack of books and scrolls from one of the tower's many shelves.

It's always been dark around this time of night, too...

But not this dark.

Celestia looks around the tower apartment that had been Twilight's for...my, a couple years, now.

No longer.

Somepony who didn't know this might not realize anything was missing. The little bed had always been a bit out-of-the-way, and the only sign that personal treasures had been removed were some gaps on the lower parts of a few shelves.

It might be considered a little...well. Foolish, maybe, but...

Why not indulge nostalgia? Just for a moment, be alone, here, with the hole where her young friend had been.

The princess closes her eyes, and lets memories fill the place with light and sound, in the privacy of her mind.

Here – Spike beats Twilight at chess for the very first time, as Celestia watches, face split in a grin at Twilight's consternation.

Here – Celestia gives Twilight a knowing look as the young unicorn produces a slim volume from between the pages of her assigned reading, the name Daring Do boldly splashed across the cover.

Here – they quietly sip coffee and discuss some minor shortcomings in an essay.

Two years!

Celestia opens her eyes and feels very silly as she realizes she's tearing up, a little.

She's known Twilight such a short time – to her, anyways. What's ten years of being a teacher to a creature who remembers what she had for breakfast six centuries ago? What's two years of close companionship to somepony who can remember marriages and friendships that last lifetimes – or even whole families she has been close to as the generations come and pass?

What?

"Everything," she whispers. "And it should be everything."

It took some...mental effort, certainly, but it was important to always bear in mind that even though she would outlive every pony she passed on the street, she lived the same way they did: moment to moment, day to day. She was not so powerful, or so different, that she could make time bend to her; every moment came and passed away, never to return.

So: two precious years.

It was time for Twilight to move on. A little past time, if truth was told, but an old mare should be forgiven indulging herself.

"The hardest thing for me was accepting I needed to let her go to live with you," Twilight's mother had said, when the princess had come to discuss Twilight moving away. "Foals – well, not that she's your foal, obviously, but...you've always cared about her as she's been growing up. The hardest thing is knowing when you need to let them out of your nest a little..."

It's...strange.

Celestia knows this – has been through this many times. But it's astonishing how she always has to re-learn this lesson: even she cannot be everything one pony needs, whether that pony is a subject, a friend, a colleague, a lover, a spouse...or a student.

Twilight will be happy in Ponyville – a wonderful place, full of adventure and potential. She's already made quite a splash.

She'll be fine. And she knows how to get in touch with her old mentor if she needs to.

Meanwhile...

Celestia strides over to a window and gazes out at the starlit sky, up at the moon.

Meanwhile, there was somepony else who needed Celestia.

She smiles, faintly. It promised to be interesting.


• • •


"This is absolutely unbelievable," Celestia says, making sure her tone is firm, but not...irritable. "I cannot imagine what you were thinking – "

Luna just grins at her, shrugging a little as she sips something green and extremely alcoholic from a tiny glass, lounging in a very typical way on an elegant bier in her private chambers. "I was thinking that I'd follow your exalted example, sister. She has need of...education, in this area." She takes another sip, her grin growing wider. "And she is turning out to be a very eager student, indeed. As she always is, about anything."

"That's what I'm worried about, Luna," Celestia says. "She's eager. She...has a way of misinterpreting things, sometimes. Especially social matters – that's part of why I sent her to Ponyville in the first place, to learn about dealing with other ponies outside of academics. You know this."

"And she's grown so well. As ever, a brilliant decision on your part," Luna purrs.

Celestia gives her sister a wry look. "You honor me. Still, I – "

"Oh, Celestia, relax, please!" Luna groans, suddenly, throwing her head back. "She's just experimenting, like every other pony her age started doing ten years ago. Honestly, you act like something's about to explode."

"Having been present for more than one of Twilight's experiments, I think you underestimate the likelihood of that," Celestia says, as mildly as she can. There are still places around the palace where the scorch marks keep showing through the paint. "Her idea of experimenting is very...formal. You're asking her to enter into romantic and sexual relationships in bad faith, Luna – it would be just like her to think she can just...flit in and out of a relationship, evaluating what happened as if it's just another day at the lab."

“And? That's suitable for some ponies. Not everyone is as boring as you are about that sort of thing.”

"And she might hurt somepony, experimenting like this, not least of all herself. She's not the type to easily handle hurting somepony's feelings that way. It would crush her," Celestia says, conscious she's just rattling off objections. They're good ones, though. "And more to the point, it's bizarre for her to go into relationships openly treating them like something to study. Honestly, I can't believe you'd be foolish enough to tell her to treat this all like research. You have, yourself, expressed boredom with the idea that things like romance can be analyzed – "

Luna snorts laughter. "I had to work with what I was offered."

"Then you could have waited for her to ask you about a specific relationship and guided her through it, not induced her to create some out of nothing to...experiment. You've given romantic advice to many ponies before – not least of all, two ponies I ended up marrying. I don't see what's different...this...time..."

Celestia's heart freezes as she watches Luna's smile grow wide and deeply amused.

"It's you," she whispers. "She's interested in you."

Luna rolls up on the bier, making a terribly false pout of feigned offense. "Does that surprise you?"

Celestia says nothing, jaw dropping. There aren't words to match the incredulity and –

Yes, call it what it is.

The outrage she feels at this.

Luna gets to her hooves, sauntering over to her sister. The half-light of her chambers plays about her strangely, like she's some sort of shadow creature, only partly real. "Should I have just...assented to her affections right then and there, when she kissed me?"

Celestia recoils. "Kissed – !"

"Oh, yes," Luna interrupts, her tone silken through a thin smile. "At the midwinter ball."

Memory spirals and reels desperately before Celestia's mind's eye. "She...she retired early," she says, trying to remember the order of events entirely properly. A sudden, terrible thought makes her look up sharply at her sister. "You two – "

Now Luna is actually offended. "Did I not just imply that I have yet to indulge her?"

Celestia, holding her sister's half-lidded gaze, takes a long, slow breath, trying to breathe out the sudden surge of anger. "So you return her interest, then?"

"Oh, heavens yes," Luna murmurs. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you that she is...fascinating. Brilliant, brave, honorable. Very attractive, too, although she is a prime example of the sort of pony for whom a few choice garments makes all the difference. And of course, I feel a personal connection with her, what with one thing and another..."

Celestia feels her head start to shake slowly, her ability to control herself destroyed by utter shock. "It that's so...if...if that's how you feel, then why – "

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Oh, Celestia..." Luna says, turning away with a smirk. "I always forget how you over-romanticize this sort of thing..."

"What, exactly, am I over-romanticizing?"

"I forgot how you are, is the problem," the younger princess says, shrugging. "You think about this sort of thing far too directly. Of course I want to indulge her. I could be there, right now, in her hooves..." Luna trails off for a moment, before looking over her shoulder with a languid smile. "It's an appealing prospect."

"So...go, then, if that's what you both want," Celestia manages to say, although the words are sour in her mouth.

She should have told me!

The thought flashes across her mind, bitter and hot, something to spit angrily.

But her mind catches up with her quickly...and makes it worse.

Which "she" should have told you that, exactly...?

Luna turns and smiles, a bit mockingly. "Tempting as that is, I am still her princess. I am her elder and, by agreement, her mentor in this. I owe her the benefit of my experience and guidance...and to not keep her to myself, just because I want to."

"So you're telling her to go out, hunt for empty sex and then, only then, will you – "

"Empty? I never told her anything about the quality of her...encounters. Indeed I never directed her to have any, strictly speaking..." Luna's smile fades into a somewhat petulant expression, somehow appearing to be upset that Celestia wasn't overjoyed by this...madness. "I merely asked her to grow a little. Learn about herself, explore her sexuality, so that if we decide to become involved, she's a little more prepared. There's no harm in that – a lot of good, I'd say."

"So explore it with her!" Celestia almost yells. Luna stares at her, stunned. "If you're so wise and experienced, be there for her! If you care for her, don't ask her to...perform, for your approval, as if she has to prove her worth – "

"Why not? You do."

Somewhere, deep down, Celestia knows this is a petty insult. Luna is nothing if not mercurial and occasionally vindictive – in pain, she lashes out, rather than containing herself. But even so there's no way Luna is actually foolish enough to equivocate –

"The difference is that I am teaching her about magic," Celestia says, icily. "Not manipulating her personal life to make myself a more suitable lover."

Suddenly Luna is right there. Inches from Celestia, eyes wide, a sly, mocking smile plastered across her face.

"Ah," she says. "I see what this is about."

"What's that?" Celestia asks, shying from her sister's leer.

Luna chuckles darkly. "Oh, my, my, my, I haven't seen you jealous in so very, very long..."

Celestia's eyes snap wide, matching the flare of indignant rage that burned bright in her.

Oh, she'd heard this ugly little rumor a million times, but...from Luna...

"I have no sexual designs on Twilight – "

Luna shakes her head, grinning. "I believe you. I really do," she whispers. "It's actually a little sad, if you ask me."

"What!?"

“It burns you, doesn't it,” Luna continues, beginning to prowl. “You find this wonderful little unicorn. Powerful, loyal, courageous...you give her everything you can. Teach her things you wouldn't dream of teaching other ponies, even if she doesn't know that. And then you plop her down in Ponyville to live out an idyllic little life, surrounded by good and friendly ponies, which you can occasionally disturb with an opportunity to be a hero...a perfect life.”


Celestia is struck speechless.

Her mind, powerful as ever, processes it – it's all a tremendous mischaracterization of Celestia's intent. It implies meta-intention where there is only goodwill. It suggests that having plans, trying to provide for somepony is inherently manipulative. They conflate caring with a sense of possession –

But all of these perfectly logical and reasonable objections are drowned out by Luna's voice, which holds her sister in dreadful fascination.

"And it burns to know that she would want more than that, doesn't it," Luna says, her voice low and throaty with dark delight. "Something you can't give her, because it wouldn't be...right. Because it doesn't fit with how you think things should be."

"No. Luna, I – "

"It disgusts you to hear me talk about her as a sexual creature," Luna whispers into Celestia's ear. "It does, doesn't it? Because that doesn't...fit."

"I – I am only angry because you're not – "

Luna's wings splay open, shaking mockingly. "Because I'm not...what? Doing exactly what you'd do? Playing by your script? What was supposed to happen, Celestia – was she supposed to die celibate, her only focus in life being your perfect little student?"

Celestia rounds on her, holding herself up in fury. "I fully expected her to...settle down, someday. Find somepony special and – "

"And come to you, asking for advice. No – approval. Come to you!" Luna snaps. "You're not even angry it's me she's interested in, or anything I'm asking of her – because deep down you know that as much as you have a point about sexuality, so do I. We've had this argument a thousand times. No, no, no. You're angry because she's outgrowing you!"

"She outgrew me a long time ago," Celestia says, firm and even. "I am her friend, that's all. I just happen to be who I am, and act accordingly. That is all, Luna."

Luna throws her head back, laughing wildly.

"What?" Celestia snaps. "What's so funny?"

“You can't even face it!” Luna cackles, snapping her eyes, wild and furious, on her sister. “You don't care what she does, or with whom, as long as she asks you for permission! In the end, no matter what she does or who she does it with, you just want to keep her for yourself!”

What follows, for an eternity, is dead silence as only two alicorns in utter shock can create.

Luna's gaze slides away from Celestia, her grin fading, and she begins to tremble in place.

Celestia...retreats. She hides somewhere, to be hurt for awhile.

The world continues to exist despite this, though.

Luna looks up, eyes wary, breaths slow and careful.

The Princess of the Sun stares down at her sister, completely dispassionate.

"Celestia, I'm...I didn't mean to – "

"I remember," the princess says, slowly casting her head about for drama's sake. "I remember how things were once. I remember those sad creatures who used to lounge around these chambers, half-dreaming even when they were awake, their wits dulled with overindulgence and excess, waiting for their mistress to grow bored enough to return and...play with them..."

Luna's eyes narrow, wincing as if she'd been slapped. "That was a long time ago. When things were...getting bad."

"That will not happen again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sister, I have no desire to hurt Twilight Sparkle, just – "

"See that you don't," the Princess says, turning to leave, striding slowly towards the tall double doors leading to the east wing of the palace. "You are right to say that as long as she remains safe and happy, I have no right to interfere in your affairs...or hers. Do not give me a right...or I will."


• • •


I don't know about this "true love" stuff ponies are always talking about. Soul mates, or eternal perfect love, or any of that.

I don't think it really matters.

Your loving student,

Twilight Sparkle

Celestia lets the letter slide down beneath her vision and sighs through a smile.

A happy ending.

Even in Equestria, there were so many times when things didn't turn out quite right – as Celestia knew, all too well. Everything from the ambitions of foals to the schemes of great wizards...everything was subject to the whims of the ponies involved.

And one of the greatnesses of Twilight Sparkle was that there was so little whim in her for anything except success. In this case, that had hinged on really understanding the truth of love – and Twilight, dear Twilight, learned that lesson as ably and quickly as she had that first spell out in the courtyard, all those years ago.

The princess re-rolls the scroll and binds it with the ribbon it had come in, and with a little flourish, sends it on its way to the mystical repository where all Twilight's reports were held. Every last one.

Indeed, the only uncertainty here had been Cheerilee. But from what Twilight said, there was no way she would have rejected an honest plea; they matched so well. Twilight has always been a bright and enthusiastic correspondent, but when she wrote about her new love –

No, not even just then.

It was real love, after all. Deep, fulfilling...it permeated everything. A new, fundamental outlook on things. So much becomes settled, when you're in love. There's always somewhere to return to, always someone there. It came across – just as it had, so many years ago, when her new friendships had blossomed into deep bonds of trust – in everything. Twilight was happy, satisfied, fulfilled...

And so – thank the heavens and bless the very stars above – everything had turned out right.

A happy ending.

Relieved, pleased, mind wandering, Celestia stares out at the sunset.

She doesn't daydream. She doesn't dream at all, really; that is her sister's place. But it is sometimes her place to...see.

As she does now.

She sees it all go...wrong.

Cheerilee turns away from Twilight's doorway.

The fight was too bitter, the wound too deep. Twilight's friends were too obvious in their entreaties, too ingratiating, too suspicious, too demanding. The mare cannot find it in herself to trust that Twilight is anything but desperate to retain a relationship...not the mare she was having it with. Two hearts break, and something that could have been pure and beautiful is lost, victim of an imperfect world where things just don't go quite right.

Lost, hurt, and above all alone, Twilight Sparkle returns to the one place where she has always been safe and welcome: the fortress of her mentor, Celestia, Princess of the Sun. There she rests and recovers from the terrible wound.

Celestia gives her back the tower apartment. Gives her books, bits, invitations to ask for whatever she might need or desire. Gives her companionship one evening, and space the next. Whatever it takes to soothe and heal the broken heart of her loyal, precious student.

But Canterlot is no longer merely the fortress of one heavenly princess.

Luna speaks to Twilight. Whispers in shadow, hints at things that Twilight would never have considered otherwise. She never says anything openly; she is no longer aggressive or demanding or even particularly attractive; she is forever dark and frightening to Twilight now, but compelling for all that.

And then...the princess of the sun makes a mistake.

She shows too much sympathy. Offers just enough tenderness beyond what a mentor and friend would give a wounded soul. Shows just enough of the essential loneliness of her nature and lifestyle that the seed of curious suspicion Luna plants has earth to grow in on the long train ride as the young unicorn returns to her life, far away in the south...

What follows is foolish and desperate and presumptuous, but what else could it be?

A desperate return. A confrontation. A question, a painful question –

A kiss, under the evening sky.

And another...and a lifetime more...

The suddenness of it stirs Celestia from the vision –

And she realizes she's smiling.

In an instant she is bolt upright, eyes wide with revulsion.

To take pleasure, even for a moment, in a future that predicated on so much pain – not just for Twilight, but as much or more for Cheerilee, a mare she'd never met and who had done nothing except make Twilight happier than Celestia had ever known her to be.

How could she be so cruel? How could she be so...selfish, so possessive, so...

But she had taken pleasure in it.

Taken pleasure in the notion of replacing a pony who, by all accounts, Twilight loved so deeply and completely that the unicorn had been able to easily resist Luna's last, desperate attempts to win her attentions even though it was unclear at the time whether Cheerilee would return to her. Of being better than Cheerilee, of being –

Of being...of being something Twilight could love, and would be fulfilled by. More than Luna, more than Cheerilee.

More than anything.

Selfish, selfish mare...

Theirs was a love tried by a princess who had willingly offered everything she was, if only Twilight would submit –

Celestia pauses, closing her eyes in what for her is a wince.

No...two princesses.

But this world was not that world. Here, Twilight had found love, found peace, found a pony to share a lifetime with, if Celestia was any judge – and she was.

Still...

"You just want her for yourself," Celestia mutters, and wipes away a tear. "Is that it?"


• • •


Cheerilee is being nervous in front of her, and somewhere in her mind, Celestia is listening.

But the real focus of her attention is what she sees as her eyes wander the Library—taking it all in, one agony at a time.

She has been here dozens of times before, and it's always a little different; but ever since Twilight took up residence and guardianship of this place, it's always been hers.

Like the tower, this sense of personality had always been very subtle, especially since Twilight was typically respectful of the fact that she was staying in a place that would be accessed by other ponies regularly. Still: the arrangement of certain books, a mislaid object or three, piles of work clumsily stashed here and there, forgotten for the moment...

But now...

It was more than superficial things. Of course there are pictures of them around. Of course Cheerilee's possessions are strewn about the place. Of course.

It was the...structural things.

The way the everyday objects were strewn about, for one thing. Just from how things were sitting, Celestia can see that Cheerilee arrived here later than Twilight had expected. They'd been ravenously hungry, but Twilight had waited for her. And then, as they ate –

Heavens, she can all but hear the conversation.

The familiar dances around the point of what they're really thinking. The pauses, eyes meeting, and then the way they look away with a little grin.

Now Celestia knows where she'll find Twilight, and she's tempted to laugh aloud. Somepony's been using magic in bed – it must have set off the trigger.

Celestia raises an eyebrow in mild, bitter amusement. Cheerilee doesn't know how lucky she is!

Mystery solved. Off to deal with it, now!

Any time now...

Celestia feels fixed in place, staring at every little object around the room as if it's the most fascinating thing she's ever seen.

This isn't a library, or even a home. It's a place where two lives dance with each other, every moment of every day...

The princess resists an urge to sigh. It might...come out wrong.

In front of her Cheerilee makes a nervous little sound. She's probably not even aware she'd made it; but there's something in her eyes that makes it clear she's paying close attention to the princess and is getting very worried indeed.

The princess looks down, and tries to smile. "It has been a long time since I was last here," she says.

That's not completely true, in a strictly literal sense, especially for her. But, really...what does something as small as time have to do with anything?


• • •


"The bell," Cheerilee whispers.

She barely has to do more than breathe the words; the room is all but silent, and the two mares are only separated by the width of a hair. Celestia's pain was so...loud, even when she spoke in a hush – and this, too, Cheerilee realizes, is something she shares with Twilight. When they are open with their feelings, they radiate, fill the room, drown everything. Was it magic – or just the mundane, everyday magic of emotion and empathy, built into everypony?

Celestia stirs from the stillness of exhaustion, blinking curiously, and Cheerilee continues. "She didn't even mention it to me, but even at the time I thought it was more important than she realized – "

Celestia raises a hoof, her eyes closing in a pained grimace. "That, and a thousand other little wounds. But you put your hoof on the most deadly blow, the one that struck my heart. She reminds me of you..."

Cheerilee sighs, and leans back, grinning faintly. "That mare, I swear to the very heavens and upon the very earth..."

"Replaced. First by my sister – and that had its own level of terror, even without this issue, believe me – and then..."

Celestia looks up at Cheerilee – and to the young earth pony's shock, there is no word for her expression but ashamed.

The very same look of shame that Twilight had when she admitted to being hung up on the princess.

How in the heavens’ name are these two the exemplars of harmony and unity?

But Celestia has turned away, a miserable, hopeless grin of resignation spread across her face. "This place...it's so beautiful. It's been her sanctuary, since she moved here –"

"It was mine, before that," Cheerilee says, without really thinking. "When I was younger."

The princess half-chuckles. "I'm not surprised."

They sit in silence for a while. Outside, the faint glow of evening in Ponyville fills the windows of the first floor – it's astounding how quickly the town settles after something like a rampaging pack of manticores.

Practice makes perfect, Cheerilee thinks. But sometimes you just have to wing it, as the pegasi say.

She sneaks a glance at her companion, who appears not to notice, fascinated by the room again.

Don't I know it!

"That...vision. It's been so poisonous for me," Celestia continues – not really to Cheerilee, but it was the sort of thing you said to an audience. Something you just had to let out. "I could be...I was everything for her, in it. I was all she needed – in everything. And I would be, if I could. For her, and...and for so many other ponies..."

“I know what you mean.”

"You do," Celestia says, looking up to her with a grateful smile. "You really do – I believe it. But it's just not..."

She trails off, looking around, shaking her head weakly.

"Can you imagine how much I envy this?" she says, eventually, waving a hoof. "Think about it: I could give her titles and honors and status. I could give her powerful artifacts and access to any research tools she wanted. I could take her to Canterlot and give her a whole wing of my palace, make her a professor at the Academy...I could uplift her beyond all other ponies in all Equestria. I could make sure her name and accomplishments are never forgotten as long as I live – as if that would take any effort at all, at this point. But this..."

She gestures to the table, still messy with Cheerilee's leftover classwork to correct. To the windows, with Ponyville and all the ponies in it beyond the windows. To the educational displays, the kitchen door...to everything.

"All I could do is take her away from this. Away from her library, from you, from Ponyville at large. And this is something she has always needed – something everypony needs. Something she needs more than anything I could do. A home, a place that's hers, and friends and loved ones to return to. Things she makes and earns for herself, not things I give her..." Celestia sniffles – it's so unbelievable that Cheerilee actually starts, ears pricking up in alarm. "All I could do is put her in a cage. A golden cage, perhaps, but a cage nonetheless. A perfect little student for a doting princess...and the worst thing is that she would always be happy, I'd be sure of that. Happy, but never really...fulfilled."

And having said this, she hangs her head, exhausted and humiliated.

Cheerilee just watches her for a while. The pale mare stares at the floor, breathing in and out slowly in long, rhythmic cycles.

"I love her," Cheerilee murmurs, after a long while. "I really do. You helped her become something...beautiful. Exceptional. She loves without reservation. Gives, without thought of being rewarded. Fights tirelessly for those who need her. She's amazing."

Celestia sighs – not exactly the reaction Cheerilee had hoped the compliment would elicit. "But in so doing, I fell prey to a trap for mentors. I never really let myself think about a world where she wasn't right there by my side, in one way or another. Luna may have been being, shall we say, deliberately provocative, but...she was right."

"You really think so?"

"Not quite to the extent she expressed, but..." Celestia sighs, looking up at the ceiling. "She was right to say I was offended by more than that she was manipulating Twilight, encouraging her sexuality in a way I personally consider unhealthy and hurtful for all but a very few – as it did, indeed, prove to be. But to be...outgrown, to otherwise feel irrelevant and unnecessary – limiting, even..."

She looks at Cheerilee, trying to smile. "I don't need to tell you, it's crushing. Especially for ponies like us."

Us? Us?!

Cheerilee waves her hooves in front of her face desperately. "Princess, I didn't mean to, er...act like I know what it's like to be you, or anything, but –"

"But you understand enough to see I am in pain," Celestia says, in something resembling her normal tone of pleasant serenity. "And Twilight is right. We are similar, even if that similarity is...problematic, for us both. But right now, having talked openly with you...it's a comfort. A rare comfort for me, certainly."

Cheerilee stares.

For days, she's been sweating under the weight of the unbelievable arrogance of what she thought she knew, and the terrible gravity of her plan to bring about this very moment. And now, from the mouth of the mare herself...

"And I hope you believe I understand your concerns as well," Celestia continues, smiling more confidently now. "If you're worried that I will try to interfere with your relationship, or distract her, I want to –"

"Stop!"

Wait – what?

Cheerilee replays the impulse in her mind – and sees what her brain was smart enough to notice without her.

Celestia stirs. "I'm – I'm sorry...?"

"Stop," Cheerilee repeats. She reaches out with a hoof – not touching the princess, but offering – and tries to give Celestia a firm grin. "Your crown is showing. Stop. You don't need to be the noble princess for me. Not now. Not ever again, if you don't want to."

"I just –" Celestia begins –

Cheerilee reaches out and places a hoof on Celestia's, meeting her eyes with dreadful seriousness. "We understand each other," she says. "Enough, anyways. Right?"

"Yes, I think so. But –"

"Celestia," Cheerilee interrupts, relishing the way her companion seems struck by being addressed so informally. "I need you to listen. You – and maybe only you – will understand how hard this is for me to say. I want my friend, the one I was out hunting manticores with tonight, to listen. Not a princess looking for a way to prove she's noble and just. I don't need a princess. I need you."

Winging it, right?

Oh Twilight, you owe me big.

There's a short pause, where the two merely hold a long look – Cheerilee serious as the grave, Celestia stunned and somewhat confused. But before long, the princess' face softens into a small smile.

"Alright," she says.

Cheerilee wasn't lying. This is really, really hard – even just to think. She grits her teeth for a moment and takes a few deep breaths.

"I'm not worried that you'll interfere. I'm worried you won't."

Celestia sits up. "I'm sorry – what?"

"I'm worried you'll say something to yourself like: well, this is all sorted out, so I'll leave Twilight to her life with this nice, smart, good-looking mare, and drop in once in awhile to say hello, maybe keep up by letter..." Cheerilee says, raising an eyebrow, daring Celestia to disagree with any of that. "You and I might be similar, but you and Twilight are similar, too. I can see her mind working around to that and frankly, I can see yours, too. It sounds noble. It sounds...right, for somepony like you. Especially after everything that's happened."

"I –" Celestia begins, her jaw working lamely for a moment. There was a reflexive denial being squashed there, if Cheerilee was any judge.

Before the princess can say anything foolish, Cheerilee pushes on. This is the hard part.

Calling the princess down on herself? Nothing.

Demanding that a goddess admit to being more of a pony than she let on? Foal's play, in retrospect.

But this?

"I love Twilight Sparkle," Cheerilee says, swallowing. "I love her with everything I am. I'm making a home with her. We're starting to raise Spike together. We make love, we make conversation, we fit. I love her. I will do everything I can to be everything she needs from me, and I can do it safe in the knowledge that she will do the very same for me."

"I know that, but –"

"Listen," Cheerilee says, a bit harshly.

Celestia takes a deep breath, concern painted broadstroke on her face, but keeps her peace.

"But there's something I cannot run away from. Something that, if I tried to deny it, would be the same as not loving her, not really.

"There's a part of Twilight Sparkle that has become part of Ponyville. It's made it wild, crazy – it's why manticore kittens are not exactly a surprise, and why we actually have something resembling a sane civic government now, and why her friends have become successful, and so many other things. That part, I get. That part is mine. The part I can hold in my hooves at night. The part I fell in love with."

Celestia is just watching, looking uneasy and concerned. Cheerilee tries to smile, but suspects it's coming out weak and half-hearted.

"But there is part of her that's more than that. The part which, in her very first few days here, faced that creature that was controlling your sister, or whatever happened. The part that fought that weird monster who turned me into lawn furniture and rained chocolate milk on me. The part which...which saved Canterlot at her brother's wedding –"

"She saved my life that day. Proved me wrong..." Celestia whispers. It's unclear from her expression whether she meant to; she seems...enraptured. Focused on the words.

Just like a good lesson. Now, young princess, take away one apple and how many are left?

Cheerilee waves a hoof at the shelves. "That part of Twilight magically rearranges the library without really paying attention, to calm itself. I've known a lot of other unicorns, and every last one of them would consider that their greatest magical achievement ever, but for her, it's relaxing. This part builts complicated machines in the basement, and causes a new, bizarre crisis every month or so because of some accident. It's the part that is so powerful and wonderful that even your sister couldn't resist it. And it is part of Twilight Sparkle – a part I appreciate and love and want to nurture, but..."

She shakes her head.

And smiles.

It's easy to smile, somehow. She thought it wouldn't be, when the moment came...

There's a tear, yes, but...eh. That's just stress.

Cheerilee looks up at Celestia, meets an immortal gaze, and admits the truth.

“I may love it, but it's something bigger than me. Something I can't really be a part of. And frankly, Celestia, no matter what I did, or said, or demanded throughout the rest of our lives together...that part of Twilight Sparkle will always belong to you.”

Celestia's eyes grow wide.

"Her mentor. Her example. Her friend," Cheerilee finishes, forcing it all out before it got caught in her strangled throat.

Her chest is tight; her heart aches. It was heavy and scary...but it's the truth – and now, she'd dig her hooves in and make the world adjust so that it wasn't quite so hard.

"Cheerilee, I would never make any claim on her –"

Agh! I could almost scream!

"Stop! Stop being the princess!" Cheerilee screams. "Be the other mare! It's okay, really! I want to help you! It's okay to admit that you want this, that you want to be a part of her life! Frankly, she needs you!"

Celestia's jaw works, lamely, undoubtedly as she tries to think of something appropriately selfless and noble to say.

The image of Twilight tearfully confessing to being deeply attached to her mentor floods Cheerilee's attention. The thought of it sends a surge of determination through Cheerilee, and she jams a hoof into Celestia's chest.

"She has been hurting so much, because she needs you. Not that –" Cheerilee adds, quickly, glancing to the crown on the table, and when Celestia glances as well, she quickly jabs the larger mare straight in the chest with a hoof once again. Cheerilee's talking, the class will listen. "You. You can be so much for her that I just...can't. So while I cannot be everything she needs in that part of her life, I can be here trying to make sure she gets it, from the one pony she wants to be close to more than anypony...who's not me, anyways."

She's galloping now. If she stops, she'll cry, and she's not done talking.

"And as nice as it is for you and I to bond like this, what I really figured out is that you need her, too. You just said so yourself, as if I needed you to. But you're wrong about things, princess, and so is your sister. You tried to give Twilight a pleasant, happy life, that's true – but why wouldn't you? You can! And she deserves it!"

"I –"

"'Friends, but,'" Cheerilee continues, before Celestia can slow her down. "It makes my life easier in some ways, when I'm teaching and the rest of the time now and again, sure. But I'm telling you, coming home – coming here, to my home – is a relief I can't put to words. I am not Miss Cheerilee, here. I'm just Cheerilee."

Celestia tries to chuckle. "I understand that, but –"

"It must have been paradise for you, teaching her," Cheerilee continues, not even paying attention. She's on a roll, now, reeling out observations as they occur. "Because mentor and protege is closer than teacher and student, which is closer than ruler and subject. Yes?"

A pause.

"Yes," Celestia murmurs.

"But it's still a distance. But the thing is – and this is the thing!" Cheerilee raves, looking back at the door and waving a hoof. "Those three – the damned Crusaders! They know me better than my other students. They've seen more of Cheerilee than the rest, and because of that, they see past the Miss sometimes, especially when it's most inconvenient. They've seen me angry and irritable and depressed – heavens, I've known Apple Bloom since she was a newborn! And just like that, Twilight's seen more than the Princess. She gave me all the clues I needed to know that this mare was here, hidden, because that's what has to happen. She knows, too, deep down – but she's scared, and confused, and frankly has a lot of unresolved feelings –"

"Cheerilee," Celestia says.

"She loves you, Celestia, and you love her. She wants to be there for you, but there's a lot you two need to sort out. So do it! I –"

"Cheerilee!" Celestia repeats, louder.

"What?!" Cheerilee shouts, turning a fierce, blazing glare on the pony foolish enough to interrupt her.

Cheerilee feels the gentle pressure of a hoof laid on hers, and a gentle smile spreads across the mare's face. Huge, pinkish-violet eyes swell with tears.

"You're panicking," Celestia says, chuckling.

"Oh, heavens, I really am," Cheerilee says, before bursting into an uncontrollable bout of hysterical giggles. She slips forward into a pair of open hooves, which gently wrap around her in a very comforting embrace.

The two mares laugh, and laugh, and laugh, until they can't laugh anymore. It was that or sob, and that just wouldn't be dignified.

A long time passes before they pull apart, each panting, sides sore.

"She needs both of us," Cheerilee says, eventually, as firmly as she can manage.

"Canterlot and Ponyville," Celestia replies, turning a bright smile on Cheerilee for a moment, before letting her expression grow solemn. She reached out with a hoof and gently wipes a tear from Cheerilee's eye. "Not just one or the other."

"And because she needs you, I need you," Cheerilee murmurs, breathing out weakly. "But if our relationship became more coffee and light conversation than this sort of talk, I wouldn't mind."

Celestia smiles. "I couldn't agree more."

Cheerilee closes her eyes, and just...breathes. It kind of hurts, but...it's the lingering ache of something that has happened, and is now over.

"What would you have done if there was only a princess to speak to, I wonder...?"

She opens her eyes and turns to take in Celestia's faintly curious expression.

"I probably would have spent a lot of time apologizing, I think," Cheerilee says with a grin. "But I still would have just asked how to help you two do your magic thing. No matter who you turned out to be, Twilight still needs you in her life."

Celestia looks away, her smile growing. "I feel this was better, overall."

"I agree." Cheerilee says, sitting up. "This way I don't have to spend my life knowing you're a liar."

A curious eyebrow raises, only slightly undercut by the huge grin spreading across Celestia's face. "You were that certain?"

Cheerilee nods, affecting a serious expression. "Oh, absolutely."

Celestia laughs.

She is way too easy to get along with...

They sit back and lounge in silence for a little while longer, both smiling gently. Cheerilee passes the time wondering if Twilight is getting enough sleep while she's away.

"This will be hard for me," Celestia says, mildly, apparently apropos of nothing whatsoever.

Cheerilee blinks the mental image of Twilight curling up in the adorable way she does when she's in bed alone out of her mind's eye. "Hm?"

Celestia is sitting bolt upright.

"This," Celestia says, giving Cheerilee a serious look before clearing her throat, shaking her head, and trying to smile peacefully.

Cheerilee's brow furrows. "What are you talking ab –"

Her ears pop, and a familiar, gentle ringing fills the air –

THWIP

Oh.

Cheerilee smiles faintly – but a thought occurs and her ears prick up in alarm.

Wait, all the way from Manehattan? I know she's good, but I had no idea she was that good –

Her eyes leap up to Celestia...the only other pony Cheerilee has ever known to zip across a whole country at a time. As if she noticed this, Celestia's smile briefly flicks upwards into a proud little grin.

A very familiar voice calls from the second floor landing. "Cheerilee? Cheerilee! Are you here? Oh, please be alright, I never should have left..."

Beside her, Celestia takes a deep breath.

Cheerilee looks up. The princess seems serene and tranquil, a play at the easy grace that seemed second nature to her, usually. Now – and perhaps, only to her – it seemed forced to Cheerilee.

"I'm down here, honey," Cheerilee calls, sharing a glance with Celestia.

"Oh, thank heavens!"The sound of hooves clattering down the stairs thunders in the hush of the library. "I heard there were manticores, of all things, so I figured it was about time I put my methodology where my mouth is and tested my distant translocation spell. What happened, anyways?"

"The short version is that it involved the Crusaders."

"Big surprise," Twilight says with a chuckle, appearing at the bottom of the spiral stairs, shaking her head and blinking, as if a bit dizzy. "I really should come up with some way for you to get in touch with me if I'm going to be away for any length of –"

As she hits the floor, she looks up with a smile, ready to greet her beloved – and freezes, eyes wide.

Celestia doesn't stiffen, or even move. She just breathes, smiling pleasantly at the incredulous unicorn.

Cheerilee sighs. "I did have some help."

But Twilight isn't listening. Her mouth sags, then wags soundlessly for a moment, before managing:

“P-princess?”

Celestia's eyes snap to the crown on the table –

Reacting faster than conscious thought, Cheerilee puts a hoof on her shoulder, gently. Celestia stirs, startled, looking down at her a little anxiously.

"Trust her," Cheerilee whispers. "Like I did."

Celestia smiles.

Twilight steps forward, the hoofbeat snapping on the floor attracting their attention. Her face is a portrait of a mare trying to seem firm in the grips of desperate confusion and fear. "What's going on? Were you – hurt?"

"No, Twilight, no," Celestia says, quickly. "I'm...I'm quite alright."

"But you're – you look –"

Cheerilee grins. "The cupcake is both eaten and uneaten."

"What? That doesn't make any sense..." Twilight begins, frowning in confusion, but she trails off as the other two mares chuckle faintly.

The princess opens her mouth to speak, but Cheerilee interrupts. "We'll explain everything, honey. Just, um...just have a seat."

"What's going on? What's this about?"

Cheerilee and Celestia look to one another...and smile.

"It's about the other mare in your life," Cheerilee says, letting her face split into a smirk. "It turns out that she's just like us, the poor thing..."

Twilight looks from Cheerilee to Celestia and back, frowning as the two give each other amused little grins. "I better put some coffee on. This is going to be a long one, isn't it?"

It was.

But it always is, when you're looking for every possible way to say "I love you, too."
> May She Be Welcome Here
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                                                     



“Sister?”

Celestia stands before the tall doors to Luna’s suites, smiling faintly, and waits. Beside her is a small bundle, wrapped neatly in fine cloth.

Her business is important but, in the wise way of a pony who has walked across more centuries than most, she is content in the knowledge that things will happen when they’re good and ready.

A sweet, cool breeze wafts through the corridor, blowing in through one of the many landings for pegasi to come and go about the busy everyday routine of the palace staff. The princess smiles wider and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath, letting it flood her lungs with rejuvenating air.

The doors remain still and shut.

Luna is making her wait.

Celestia smiles, and does so.

Outside, the guard is changing. Shining Armor’s voice cuts across the stillness of the early evening, barking out the ceremonial instructions as the golden Day Guard makes way for the gunmetal of the Night. It’s been a very long time since she really listened to the words—simple instructions, really, but like the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon there is a dignity in the ritual. A reminder that this is all actually somewhat important even though it happens every day, an acknowledgement of endings and that beginnings follow in their place.

He really does have a way of sounding proud and noble, doesn’t he? They don’t make stallions like that quite the way they used to...Cadence is a lucky mare indeed.

As she waits before the threshold to her sister’s realm, she lets her mind wander in this fashion, contemplating deep matters such as how tragic it would be for one of their foals to inherit their father’s mane color and their mother’s coat.

Idle thoughts, for a mind waiting to be put to use.

She lets fifteen minutes pass. It seems like a good balance between indulging her sister and getting to things in something like a timely fashion.

Princess Celestia’s lips spread into a gentle smile as she chuckles. “You’ve made your point, Luna.”

Still, there’s a moment before the doors swing open, very slightly. For doors, they do a very excellent job of seeming sulky and resentful of having to make the effort.

The interior of Luna’s receiving room is dimly lit by pale white-blue lamps, which create just enough light to see by but throw harsh shadows about the place. Where the light falls, the white furnishings Luna favors glow like fresh snow under a midwinter moon.

In the center of the room there is a low table and places for several ponies to sit in council. Celestia raises an eyebrow at this novel arrangement—it is almost identical to a similar setup in her own study, such that several ponies could gather around several spread-out documents or a small meal and sit in council together.

Businesslike, yes—but more importantly, it was a place where other ponies were welcomed in. Even in times long past, Luna was ever one to enjoy being the only pony lounging while others stood and spoke to her.

“You’ve made some changes,” Celestia says, nodding approval.

There is no response, and the princess of the moon is nowhere to be seen. But that’s no particular surprise.

Celestia sets her little package down on the table and begins unwrapping it. Inside is a bottle of fine white wine and two spun crystal glasses—her own work, long ago. Smiling, she taps the edge of one with a hoof as she lifts it from the bundle with magic.

Sharp, of course. Ha!

The room seems unnaturally hushed, as if even the books and strange decorations half-hidden in the pale light are watching her with baited breath, as she pours out two generous glasses of the sweet wine. A final clunk echoes through the shadowy room as the half-empty bottle settles down and is freed from the princess’ telekinetic control.

Celestia lifts her glass and sips, looking out a window as she feels reality tug a little next to her.

“I consulted one of the chamberlains, and he told me this was an appropriate wine for this sort of meeting,” she says, calmly.

Nothing, for a few heartbeats.

Then:

A slight ring—sharp, of course—breaks the silence as the other glass lifts from the table.

Luna sniffs the wine a few times, then takes a sip of her own. “Mmm. Not my first choice.”

Celestia turns and gives Luna an apologetic smile. The younger princess is glowering at her in what she probably wouldn’t be happy to hear is a somewhat...adorable way. “Forgive me.”

“For the wine?” Luna asks, sipping again without breaking eye contact. “Or for vanishing for the better part of a week, telling nopony where you were off to, and leaving me here to take charge of a country that seems to manage to survive day-to-day mostly by luck?”

Celestia just smiles and shrugs, making Luna frown and turn to look out the window herself. “You did very well. I heard about all the trouble you were having.”

Luna half-frowns. “I must confess that most of my success was accomplished by yelling at everypony quite a bit. I think three or four ponies have resigned their positions in protest.” The dark princess swirls her glass thoughtfully in midair at some length, before taking a long sip and turning away. “I’m not you.”

Unspoken: They like you.

“Thank heavens. One of me is quite enough, I think,” Celestia replies, giving her sister a grin. “From one princess to another, though...”

“Yes?”

Celestia lets her grin grow wide. “I think the palace staff could stand to be yelled at now and again. Really yelled at by somepony with the knack. I’m just not any good at it, you know—at being forceful, I mean. I just explain things at a higher volume than normal in a stern tone of voice and everypony gets confused...”

Luna barks out a brief, bitter laugh. “I suppose I have to have some talents you do not possess.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. It was a busy time, and you held everything together very well.”

“I was not acting wholly alone, truth be told,” Luna adds, raising an eyebrow. Throwing this out there to see what Celestia would think of it.

Celestia gestures to the table and seats, smiling proudly. “So I see.”

Luna just smiles and turns back to the window.

Celestia delights in this; Luna is not giving the satisfied smile of a victorious schemer, or the shy smile of somepony enjoying praise. Instead, she is thinking back on a very interesting few days where she was called upon to lead and did not find herself wanting, and reflecting on the simple pleasure of having done what she was called on to do...with willing and able help from those around her.

It is a bittersweet delight, considering everything.

But that’s why they need to talk.

They sit together in silence for awhile, watching the day fall away and the sky fade from blue-purple to black, stars winking into life one by one.

“So how was Ponyville, then?” Luna asks, quietly, after a while.

“Oh, my,” Celestia says, in faux shock. “I thought nopony knew where I was.”

“The sun rose and set. Day moved to night and back again. You were safe.” Luna sniffs. “And I’m not stupid.”

There is a tense little moment. An...awkwardness.

But there’s only one way to deal with it, isn’t there...

There’s not always a neat little hook. You just have to come right out and say things.

“I cannot help but notice that you didn’t...check. It would have been the work of a moment,” Celestia observes, her tone carefully idle.

She turns to Luna, who still gazes out at the sky, and sips a rather healthy amount of wine. As the glass pulls away from her lips, the elder princess watches words start to form and die away on them, unvoiced, as Luna considers what to say.

“For one reason or another, I do not feel...welcome there, anymore,” Luna says, finally.

“There are ways you might have gone about it that she wouldn’t have noticed.”

She. Her.

My most faithful stu—

No. No longer. Not as anything but an artifact of what has been.

Now Luna turns to Celestia, looking half-incredulous, half-irritated. “How certain of that are you, sister?”

Celestia smiles faintly at this acknowledgment of Twilight’s prowess. “Fairly said.”

They return their gazes to the dark fabric of the nighttime sky, now glittering with little beads of light.

Neither says anything, but some nameless, ethereal connection between them gives Celestia the confident knowledge that Luna, too, is letting her mind slip back to when they were much, much younger mares and they excitedly named each point in the sky, and drew lines between them, creating names and histories that changed every time they sat together...

The only sound, for some time, is a gentle sip now and again as one of the heavenly sisters enjoys the sweet wine.

“’The morning that never comes...’” Celestia says, eventually.

She perks up, mildly surprised that this was what she’d said, of the many things that needed to be broached.

A memory out of the recent past floats to the forefront of her mind’s eye and Cheerilee speaks.

Just get it all out, and then we’ll sort through it. There’s nothing else we can do.

Back in reality, Luna stirs slightly. “I recall saying this a few months ago, yes.”

Celestia clears her throat, eyes fixed on a distant star. “Can we agree, sister, to speak openly with one another? Hide nothing, and speak the truth of our minds and hearts without reservation, or any ulterior motive?” Now she turns, and Luna eyes her warily. “I...I confess, I have not always...”

“Not always been completely open to me, since I returned?”

The faint bitterness in her sister’s voice stabs at Celestia’s heart.

But I probably deserve worse. I can endure this.

She sighs. “I have not, no.”

Luna deflates somewhat, but says nothing, merely nodding with a slight grimace.

Celestia rewards her with a faint smile and turns to the window again. “At the time I misunderstood your meaning. I thought it some sort of...well, I really did not understand it at all, to tell you the truth. But I believe that ’the morning which does not come’ refers to a sun that no longer wishes to rise, since it has no attachment to the earth any more...”

Silence, for a few heartbeats.

“Yes.”

“Did you truly think I was so lost?” Celestia turns to face her sister properly again, and Luna straightens up, face more or less impassive. “Did you truly think I was...”

Fading? Going dark?

Luna looks away, face twitching now and again as different emotions tugged at her.

“It was not about what I thought, sister. It wasn’t about thought at all,” Luna says bitterly, after a few anxious moments wrestling with herself. “Little I have done lately has been about thought.”

“Luna, I know—”

“It was about what I feared,” Luna says, still looking away. “I hurt you—”

“I’m part of something that’s hurting her, I think...” Cheerilee says, voice thick with anxiety.

“—more than I realized—”

Cheerilee stumbles over her words as Celestia tries to recover from her shock. “And frankly, I’d rather not be.”

“—or...yes, or intended,” Luna finishes, turning to Celestia. Her expression is carefully firm and defiant. “I hurt you, when I accused you of wanting to keep Twilight to yourself, and I meant to hurt you. I wanted you to stop interfering. I was so angry, sister...I didn’t think, I just lashed out. I didn’t even consider that you would be so wounded by it. I had no idea.”

There is a lot in that statement that needs discussing, but Celestia opts for: “Neither did I.”

She waits while Luna silently considers what to say.

It’s strange to watch her in this half-light, where it’s unclear where the shadows end and Luna begins sometimes. She is utterly still and apparently calm, but Celestia knows better; Luna happy and at peace is Luna prowling and vital.

Just like a cat. Unsure, so she freezes in the shadows, hoping not to be noticed.

A thought—one that comes part and parcel with an assortment of memories, some so distant that even to Celestia they seem far away—occurs to her.

She’s always been like this!

And yet, I let myself fear it, just because it’s not how I behave...because I only remembered the darkness of night, and not the light of the moon.

Celestia shakes her head irritably. Foolish, foolish mare...

Eventually the younger alicorn sighs. “In the spirit of openness, sister, may I ask what you have been doing there that you seem relieved of your burdens? Your change in attitude is something like miraculous.”

Her voice is hushed. There’s a hint of irritation in it, yes, but mostly she is poking at a sore spot, wondering if it has healed.

Celestia sighs, closing her eyes, knowing that Luna will not immediately like what she’s about to say. She’d been uncomfortable with the notion herself, but Cheerilee had all but insisted.

“Just...being.”

The little cough of incredulity Celestia knew would be there comes and goes, and she opens her eyes to take in her little sister’s annoyed, but curious expression. “Being, hmm?”

“Yes,” Celestia says, smiling. “Being Celestia.”

Luna gives her a sour look. “Rather than...?”

Celestia doesn’t reply; she merely glances upwards at the crown set atop her head.

“I see,” the younger princess replies, raising an eyebrow. “Dare I ask what that entailed...?”

“Well, among other things, I caught up on some leisure reading. And I napped—I haven’t napped in centuries, not even when I took holidays or sabbaticals. I usually take trips, you see, or do some kind of research...I’d forgotten how pleasant it can be to just...rest.”

Celestia sips the very last of her wine and sets the glass down carefully, maintaining a vague smile despite Luna’s ever-souring expression. The words “meanwhile, here in Canterlot...” are clearly begging to issue from her lips, but Luna is polite enough not to interrupt at this point.

“But the important thing...”

“Yes?”

“The important thing,” Celestia repeats, since the rest of the sentence is stubbornly sticking in her throat, “was the...the talking.”

Luna shifts uncomfortably. “About your relationship with...her?”


• • •


“I’m sorry,” Twilight mumbles, looking away. “It’s...it’s just...”

Celestia tries not to let the stab of guilt show on her face. She feared this as much as anything, pressing too much on her all at once, with feelings the princess half-wished she didn’t have, a need that by its very nature she couldn’t satisfy alone. A need to be understood. To be...just Celestia, to a young mare who had more idea than anypony how much that was, even without a crown on atop a flowing, magical mane...

And if they had been alone, it would have played out very differently. Celestia has another flash, another understanding, that if it had just been the two of them, it would have come to an uncomfortable end. Things were changing, and Twilight—no, they were both frightened. Unsure of where to put their hooves because they both wanted a happy ending so, so badly, no matter what shape that happiness came in.

So they’d compromise.

But this was no time for compromise, it was time for everything to happen at once—

Thank heavens they weren’t alone, then.

Cheerilee steps up to Twilight and very gently touches her shoulder with a hoof. She doesn’t need to say anything, or even really do very much; she just lets Twilight quietly steady herself against the gesture and the love that lay behind it, giving the antsy young mare something solid to cling to and move from in the turbulence of this moment.

The princess and the schoolteacher lock eyes.

Everything’s okay. I’m here, for both of you. We’ll make this work.

Still, Celestia cannot help but speak. “I don’t want to frighten you, Twilight. I know this must seem like I am demanding something you cannot just give, but—”

“Shhh,” Cheerilee hisses, giving her a very teacher-y frown. Celestia chuckles despite herself.

And then Twilight speaks.

“I was so afraid of even...wanting it,” she says, smiling weakly. “But...I sort of...well, I guess I...” She looks up, smiling helplessly. “’Friends’ can be a bit of a flexible word, huh?”

“’Friends...but,’” Celestia says, sparing Cheerilee a grateful smile before returning a fond gaze to Twilight. “No more. This is me...all of me.”

They stare at each other for a very long time—two mares, holding everything they’ve known about one another in one hoof and their hopes and dreams in the other. What was and what could be vied to control what the future would be like.

And then...

Twilight rises to her hooves. Cheerilee steps away, smiling broadly, as the unicorn trots forward and nuzzles her old mentor, reduced as she was. Celestia lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, and hums happily as she snuggles back.

“Okay,” Twilight murmurs. “Okay.”

She says this instead of “please”, or “yes”, or “of course”, or any other foolish word that would make it seem like she was begging or demanding or accepting, because that’s not what’s happening. She’s simply acknowledging something that wants to be true, has striven to be true ever since that first lesson—no, since that first moment, when a terrified young filly looked up and saw somepony who really, truly inspired her.

But now that pony is just the other mare in the room, not a goddess or even a mentor: she is hurt and lonely and real. And all it does is make their friendship more precious and honest than it ever was before.

The world falls into place, and everything is right.

And then they both laugh, hugely, because if they didn’t laugh they’d cry, and that just wouldn’t do at all.


• • •


“Mmm. Among other things.” Celestia rises to her hooves and strides towards the window. “All three of us had a great deal we needed to talk about, in the company of friends.”

Without looking, she knows Luna’s face to be rolling through a selection of responses, little twitches or tics here and there betraying her discomfort. Any immediate response would almost certainly be teasing or snide, but Luna was holding her tongue rather admirably.

In the back of her mind, Celestia knows this to be Luna being careful, trying not to upset her big sister too much.

Frankly, it was quite welcome.

“As it happens, sorting things out about my relationship with Twilight and Cheerilee was very simple,” she says, and wonders briefly if it’s a lie.

Were things so complex that they ended up being simple, or so simple that we wrapped complexity around them because nothing should be so easy..?

She shakes her head and continues. “We all understand one another better, now.”

The absence of a smug, sly-sounding hmmph—an unvoiced oh, is that so?—makes her turn back to Luna, who is sitting next to the table behind her, looking mildly pleased.

Celestia’s brows knit, despite herself. “I thought you’d be skeptical.”

“Where you and Twilight Sparkle are concerned, I think doubt is foolish in the extreme,” Luna says, quietly.

“Perhaps.”

Luna gives Celestia a very small little smile, a tiny hint of her usual slyness peeking around the very edges. “So you and Twilight are...?”

“Friends,” Celestia says, definitively. When Luna raises an eyebrow, Celestia just grins and continues, a little more quietly. “Close friends, very close. Which is part of why I wanted to talk to you—she and I want to become much more than just friends—”

To Celestia’s amusement, Luna’s ears prick up in alarm as she recoils. “Sister! What about poor Cheerilee?”

“What?” Celestia replies, innocence dripping off her voice. “She was the one who proposed it, although she freely acknowledges that we were all thinking it. And she can watch, if she likes, I suppose.”

Luna blinks a few times. “That’s...very open-minded of her—”

“Indeed. She is very generous, you know, especially since it promises to mean a lot of loud noises and strange smells in her house. But the truth is she’s nothing but supportive of Twilight’s career.”

“Wait—career...?”

There is a busy little moment as everything pauses to let Luna re-arrange the contents of her head.

“I suppose you think you’re very clever,” she growls, holding Celestia in an irritable expression that almost certainly hid grudging amusement.

The elder princess allows herself a brief chuckle before replying. “So you see why I need to talk to you, yes? If Twilight and I intend to do research together, it will mean a lot of time away from the palace, working in her lab in Ponyville or at one of the universities.” She looks back at the ad hoc council table and smiles. “I just didn’t want to force something like that on you without discussing it first—again, in any case. I’d be obliged if you would consider it.”

Luna’s eyes narrow for a moment. “And just how often would you be...absent?”

Celestia lets her sister’s suspicious gaze pass through her, not even reacting. “Oh...at first, I’ll just need to set time aside to gather research materials, here at the Palace, but eventually, it might be as often as two weeks of every month. We discussed some very interesting possibilities.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Luna makes a show of putting on a contemplative expression. “I will give it some thought, since you ask so politely.”

Internally, Celestia tries to smile as much as she is physically.

The opportunity to be the princess you are should not be something I am presenting to you now.

Heavens above, Luna...I’m so sorry.

But it’s not quite time for that.

“Thank you, Luna. Would you care for some more wine?”

“Please.”

For a long moment, the only sound is the gentle ring of magic and the swirl of liquid in the crystal goblets, followed by more silence interrupted only by polite sipping.

The stars beyond the window twinkle on, unmoved by and unconscious of the nervous tension.

Luna huffs a little laugh, turning a sarcastic look on Celestia. “All that time to decide to do something I know you have always at least wished to do. I’ve seen you two working together.”

Celestia lets a little uncomfortable silence build up after this statement, staring at the strange reflection of the starlight in her wine. Luna shifts uncomfortably, taking a rather larger gulp from her own glass.

“I needed this, Luna,” she says, in a solemn hush. “I needed them. I needed to be...away.”

She gazes down into her wine some more, not particularly interested in torturing herself with whatever expression of unhappiness was currently occupying her sister’s face.

“Away from Canterlot.”

“Not...exactly.”

Luna sniffs—a quiet, lonely little sound, which makes Celestia turn to her, sympathy swelling.

The younger princess is sitting straight up, face completely impassive save for a raised eyebrow, no sign of any weakness or hurt whatsoever...not that Celestia had expected to find any, if she was honest.

“Away from me,” Luna says, stiffly.

Celestia sighs. “Yes.”

“I am not sure the idea of you needing to escape me to spend time with her comforts me just at the moment,” Luna murmurs, her low tone filling the careful words with her real feelings on the matter.

“It doesn’t?”

“No.”

“I suppose I cannot blame you for that,” Celestia says, setting her glass down on the table before giving her sister a solemn look. “But I think you’re being a bit uncharitable.”

Luna affects a sarcastic little grin, drawing herself up magisterially. “Please, sister, your pardon, I beg you. It’s just that I can’t help but suspect that if the name Luna of the Moon managed to arise in the conversations that filled the time between naps, it was not in tones of affection. I have not been on my best behavior, of late, have I? Lo, there in Ponyville, a conclave of the ponies most wronged by a wayward princess, taking comfort in commiseration, far from their tormentor.”

This last sentence was spoken with such bitterness that Celestia actually winces.

Luna barks a weak laugh. “So you see where I am perhaps a bit suspicious of your grandiloquent gestures of peace and openness just now. I have received them before, have I not? And yet—”

“And yet, here we are,” Celestia says, interrupting her.

Her sister makes a slightly mocking gesture, almost sneering: so much for pleasant speech.

Celestia sighs. Privately, she’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this level of theatricality, but...

Some things had to be done, no matter how hard, or how little you wanted to.

She stands, taking a deep breath, then matches Luna’s glare with a cool look of her own.

And smiles.

“You’re quite right. Words are hollow without actions to match...”

Celestia breathes out...and lets go.

For a moment, the universe is slightly confused.

Luna recoils, drawing up a hoof in shock, wings splaying in anxiety. “Sister...!”

With care, Celestia lifts the slim, diminished crown from her head with magic, and sets it on the table next to the parcel and the now-empty bottle of wine. She looks up—up—at her sister, and smiles, her dignity interrupted momentarily by a few stray strands of pink mane flopping down over her eyes.

“I...I thought I felt...” Luna murmurs, dumbfounded. “But I couldn’t believe it. You—you never...did they know what they were seeing...?”

“No,” Celestia says, settling back down again. “Twilight suspects there’s more to it than I let on, but she didn’t ask and I’m not about to just tell her. A mare should be allowed her secrets, until they need not be a secret any longer..”

“If they only knew...” Luna says, eyes still wide. She looks Celestia up and down, mesmerized. “I never thought I would see you like this again—”

Internally, Celestia braces herself, but on the outside, she tries to maintain her pleasant little smile.

“Vulnerable, you mean?”

For a moment, Luna seems stunned, blinking helplessly.

But just as suddenly Luna’s shock is gone, and the shadows creep about her again, filling a sly smile with sinister implications. “Perhaps I should allow you to reconsider. This...this changes things. Where once there was the Sun and Moon, now the situation is a little less...even.”

Celestia cannot help but stiffen, slightly. Like this, her body isn’t quite as precisely under her control.

Luna notices, and her eyes twinkle. “There was a time when you wouldn’t dare do this,” she whispers.

“All too recent a time, I’m afraid,” Celestia admits, closing her eyes and trying to control her breathing. “To my shame.”

“Oh, so you admit—”

“I admit being...suspicious. Too suspicious, I think.”

“Perhaps you weren’t wrong. You know, right now, I could—”

“You could do a great many things, I know,” Celestia says. “But you won’t.”

The room grows colder, little by little, as the pause lingers. With her eyes closed, Celestia’s magnificent imagination cannot help but show her ice crawling up the walls like long frozen fingers, reaching and consuming...

“How can you be so sure...?”

The tone of voice sends a jolt of alarm through the elder alicorn. Luna—no matter how wild or angry or devious she was being—was never that...proud. That commanding. That condescending.

That...evil.

But there you were.

Celestia smiles.

“Nightmare Moon would have done them already.”

Silence fills the room. Even the sounds of the world outside are totally absent, for what seems like an eternity.

Finally, Celestia takes a long, slow breath, releasing it as a sigh through a fading smile, eyes still closed.

What will I see when I open them, I wonder?

Cheerilee, you really are clever...

“That’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it,” she says, quietly. “What you wanted to talk to me about, but I wouldn’t listen...”

There is a hint of a rustling of feathers. Of a coat drawn across fine upholstery.

No words.

“That is the hardest thing for us,” Celestia continues, as evenly as she can. “Being afraid of ourselves. We’re the princesses! We are old beyond old, wise beyond wise, above some mortal concerns...so when we are afraid that we are going wrong, where do we go?”

“To Ponyville, it seems,” Luna says, her voice returned to something like normal—but the sarcasm in it was faint, the malice utterly absent, the...whole of it, deflated and miserable.

“Quite so. And isn’t that a tragedy, that we flee our home in this way? You were right, Luna. I was fading. I was losing myself to despair—I needed Cheerilee and Twilight to be brave for me. Me! The Princess of the Sun!” Celestia laughs, a bit bitterly. “I was suddenly so afraid I was stifling her—and I was, to a degree. But I was crushing myself, too, and I had nopony to talk to—”

A sudden pressure on her hoof makes her snap her eyes open and look down—

There, tears threatening to destroy her expression of determined solemnity, was the little sister Celestia had found in the Temple of Two Sisters, all those years ago, clutching at her big sister’s hoof like a rock in a storm at sea.

Shadow still blurs Luna’s diminished shape—but then it would do so for Twilight, too, who is similarly dark-colored. The shade didn’t writhe and flow anymore, it just fell across her as if she were any pony out on the darkened streets. Her slim black crown sits lopsided on her head, tangled in a mess of long blue mane that always manages to fall over one eye.

The little princess of the moon gazes up at her sister with terrible firmness. “Sister,” she gasps. “Sister, I—”

“We did talk about you,” Celestia says, smiling weakly. “Quite a lot, in fact. There were a great many things we needed to come to understand.”

“Celestia, please listen to me—this is all my fault—”

“No, Luna,” Celestia murmurs. “It’s mine.”


• • •



“Perhaps there will always be a part of me that resents you, Twilight,” Celestia says, with a hollow, humorless chuckle, staring off at nothing.

Cheerilee frowns at the princess as she cuddles Twilight, who despite a valiant attempt at a firm, supportive expression had rather obviously been upset by this somewhat poorly-phrased comment.

“But then, that is just as unfair of me as the rest of it, so it’s in keeping,” Celestia continues, closing her eyes. “It could not have been me that saved her. There was nothing I, me, her sister, could have done...now, a thousand years later, in any case.”

She leans her head back, breathing out slowly. Solemnity came easy, now, fed by the knowledge that soon all of this would be out of her heart and mind, purged like so much vomit. It was coming out; soon enough it would be over, and then all that was left was to clean up. So as disgusting as the process, the act, was...it would end, and be gone in due time.

“She needed me,” Celestia says, wishing she’d sob. Wishing it didn’t come out of her dead and hollow, resigned to her condemnation. “She was getting...lost. Reaching out for help, really, by being so provocative. Displaying how hurt she was by being very open in her wrongdoing, as if she didn’t care—you know how ponies like that are. But then, in the moment, did I go to her, hear her out? Was I the other mare for her? Of course not,” she finishes, grateful to finally manage some emotion, even if it was bitterness.

“Princess, I—”

“Yes! Yes, Twilight,” Celestia says, quickly, a sudden lightning flash of anger finding ready fuel in the dried-up emotional plains of her mind. “She needed her sister, and what did she find? A princess! An angry princess, a frightened princess, a princess who did not want to understand, but instead to sit in judgment, prove her nobility and justice, a princess who was desperate to believe that her sister was truly lost because the thought that Luna, who I love so very, very dearly, had done such...foulness...was unbearable.”

She shakes her head, dimly aware of the two ponies sitting across from her cuddling together, struggling to accept what they were hearing.

“It could only have been you to save Luna. I did not deserve even to ask it of you,” Celestia says, face contorting into an ugly grimace. “I was the one who judged and damned her in the first place.”



• • •



“And here I was,” Celestia finishes, solemnly, “doing it again.”

Luna stares at her, lips moving very slightly around words she cannot quite bring herself to say.

“I needed them, Luna. They just sat there and let me talk, let me figure things out aloud, in a place where I was...safe, for lack of a better word. Let me rest, and recover my strength. It’s what anypony needs, when they’re in pain.” She turns a patient smile on Luna’s somewhat sullen expression. “It’s what you need, now.”

Now? Now?!

Celestia sighs, aware that her voice had betrayed a momentary discomfort. It was a politeness to herself, but...like so many politenesses, it was a little bit of a lie, to spare her feelings. Her sister had needed this well before now.

Luna just glares for a while, lips curled downward in the miserable, grumpy expression she saved for when she’d lost her composure and shown far too much vulnerability and was regretting it.

“Where else do I have to go?” she mutters, through her teeth, after a long while.

“That is our crisis, isn’t it,” Celestia replies, quickly, sensing her sister’s mood shifting towards self-pity. “For all that I was fortunate to find help and sympathy in my young friends, someday, they will be gone. And even while they’re with me, there are just some things they will never really be able to understand, because they’re not...you. A princess, an alicorn, a ruler...something like a goddess. While I have lately been reminded that the young can be many things to me, they cannot be my sister. In the very, uttermost end...we have each other.”

They hold their gaze a little while longer. Luna’s face remains a bit twitchy; Celestia can tell that if she were not so...real, at the moment, there would be only the hint of a presence in the deep shadows of her chambers.

In Celestia’s mind, the way this should go was clear: Luna should gratefully and happily admit her own desire for closeness, they hug, they talk.

But that’s just in her mind. She really is too used to being in charge...

Luna is Luna, just as she’d always been, and it was disrespectful and condescending to demand she be anything else. As such, it was probably counterproductive at this point to force a similar admission of need from her at the moment. She’d never willingly say it, and she’d resent being forced to.

No, Luna is not Twilight and Cheerilee, who for all their complexities were very straightforward and open about things, in the end. Luna is private. Luna takes pleasure in feeling like she is in control. Luna likes to be mysterious. Luna likes to play games, try to outwit you...

Luna is different.

Luna is so...Luna.

I missed it.

“I do not want to spend another thousand years without you, one way or another,” Celestia whispers. “I couldn’t bear it.”

“What if you have to?” Luna says, suddenly, her voice little more than a harsh hiss. “What if you have no choice?”

A tense pause fills the room.

“I refuse to accept that,” Celestia says, firmly. “I—”

She’s interrupted by a sudden burst of bitter laughter from Luna.

Celestia frowns. “What?”

“You,” Luna says, shaking her head, weakly. She grins fiercely before continuing, a mocking light in her eyes. “Big sister knows she made a mistake, all those years ago. Big sister wants to help. Big sister is here to fix everything, just like she always does. Is that it?”

“I—” Celestia begins, catching the reflexive denial in her throat before it escaped and ruined everything. She looks away for a moment, swallowing the petty sentiment as well as the sudden, embarrassed thickness in her throat.

Hadn’t she just spent time helping Cheerilee think through the exact same impulse? Hadn’t she and Twilight let the young schoolteacher complain at length about how hard it was to accept that she couldn’t just fix things for, say, Macintosh, even though she still wanted to more than she knew how to express?

She reminds me of you, Twilight had said. As ever, Celestia’s protege saw further than even she realized, from time to time.

Luna tilts her head, a little curiously. “You’re too used to dealing with mortals, I think.”

“No, just to dealing with creatures who can only see the crown on my head,” Celestia says, with a sigh. “Mortal or otherwise. But you have your own crown, of course.”

“Indeed.”

Luna rises from her place, a little awkwardly, trying to regain some of her air of regal mystery after revealing so much hurt by expressing as much grace and poise as possible. With a deliberate, thoughtful air she wanders over to a window, through which the bright moon shone boldly against the sky, casting her diminished form into a harsh silhouette—a tiny pony shape barely eclipsing a fraction of the shimmering white bulk.

“I should not be so...cutting,” she says, after awhile, head turned very slightly over her shoulder. “I should be pleased you wish to help, and that you’ve put yourself through so much struggle on my behalf. But I need to know you will listen, not merely make more forgiving judgments of me. As you say...I have nopony else to turn to.”

Celestia says nothing.

After a moment Luna smiles slightly. “Well said.”

“Forgive me,” Celestia says, quietly. “This is not...easy for me.”

“I should hope not,” Luna replies, a bit harshly. “I am not some small, brief creature whose life and circumstances are yours to manipulate as you see fit.”

“Nopony’s—no creature’s—life is mine,” Celestia says, firmly.

Luna laughs, a single, harsh sound that expresses nothing but bitterness. “Well, doesn’t that bring us to the pony in question...”

Celestia sits back, grimacing. “Twilight.”

“Yes.”

The younger princess stares out at the moon for a while longer, still as a statue. Celestia just waits, despite an urgent desire to say...

Something. Anything.

“My affair with her has been...troubling me,” Luna says, not turning around. “Tell me, with your newly enlightened attitude, your new insight into our situation...what do you think of all of it?”

Celestia pauses for a moment, settling herself, before responding. “I don’t think you meant to hurt her.”

“Of course I didn’t,” Luna says, coolly. “Don’t be foolish.”

“But you were acting in hurt,” Celestia continues, carefully. “You have been...humiliated, shamed, diminished, not least of all by me. I can imagine that Twilight looking upon you as...as an idol, as a goddess, something to be desired...it must have been irresistible.”

She pauses, watching Luna carefully. The younger alicorn sits quiet and still for a long moment before her wings fluff. “It was certainly...pleasant...to be desired by her.”

“Luna...” Celestia murmurs, grinning slightly. “There’s a time for politeness—”

“Would you perhaps prefer to hear the details of my feelings for her? All of them?” Luna snaps, irritably.

Celestia grimaces. It’s not like her sister to give up an invitation to be suggestive, just to make her point...but then she wouldn’t just now. “I merely wanted to know if I am on the right path, in my reasoning.”

Luna’s wings flutter again, and Celestia is sure she’s wrestling against a strong urge to conceal any sign of weakness.

“It was...very appealing. She’s extremely attractive, in her way. Unlike anypony I have taken as a lover before—”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Luna,” Celestia says, conscious she’s pressing a little harder in her tone, if nothing else, than was probably wise. “You know very well that I hardly need you to tell me that she’s an attractive young mare. But I’m talking about you. Not her.”

Luna again freezes, saying nothing.

“And let us be honest, since we’re being honest,” the elder sister continues, now caught for a moment on a little surge of emotion she ought have controlled for the moment, “and be overt about everything. It was pleasant for you, wasn’t it, to be the one she wanted since she was, for lack of better phrasing, mine. At the time.”

“That...did occur to me,” Luna hisses, reluctance dripping off every syllable.

Celestia allows herself a little moment of schadenfreude. “I’m sure the less flattering side of that particular aspect of your relationship occurred to you.”

Luna’s reply is a low, angry growl through her teeth. “Eventually.”

If it makes you feel better, Cheerilee felt the same way...

Celestia shakes her head. No need to involve poor Cheerilee in this; she already has one princess disturbing the peace of her home and mind.

“So: you get to be Twilight’s goddess, the mysterious and beautiful creature offering her a secret, private world of pleasures I never did, or could—as you correctly pointed out. But as I have been reminded, lately, being a goddess, a princess—being the crown, shall we say...it is not easy. It takes courage and strength, to be patient and forgiving and endure what others cannot. And I don’t think you were capable of it, sister. You’re too tired, too hurt.”

One of Luna’s ears flicks a few times, but no other response seems forthcoming.

Celestia presses on, her voice growing harsh. “So you tried to be it, struggling to maintain a divine facade despite your desire to just be close to her. You pushed her to ’learn’ about love, romance, and her sexuality, ignoring my advice to just do what you wanted anyways because that would not only be doing what I advised but because it made you feel weak and vulnerable to just want somepony to love you.”

Luna shrugs. Celestia is actually somewhat impressed; considering who she is speaking to, she might as well have just witnessed a tearful confession.

“Then she disappointed you,” Celestia continues, “and you were distraught, so you rejected her far, far too harshly. When she made demands of you, demanded you accept her, you were offended despite yourself. And when she turned from you, in the end, I think you may have even hated her, for a time—”

“Yes, sister, yes,” Luna croaks, loud enough to cut through Celestia’s firm, raised tone. “You have the way of it. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

Luna rounds, suddenly, her wings splaying behind her like a cloak. Moonlight glitters across the sheen of her feathers as they settle around her again, her eyes boring into Celestia’s.

She smiles. “It really does comfort me to hear you be so sympathetic to my outlook,” she says, before taking a deep breath. “But I suspect the words creeping into your mouth even now are something like: ’it would be easy to blame this all on some lingering remnant of the darkness’, yes?”

Celestia nods. “Indeed. That was the conclusion I came to.”

“You?”

“Not alone, but...yes, these are my thoughts.”

Luna’s smile grows a little wider for a moment, although not in a way that suggests she’s actually happy about this so much as grimly pleased. She takes a few steps back towards Celestia, slowly and gracefully, eyes closed—almost dancing, or reminding herself that she was capable of moving so gently.

“This is why I said you need to listen, sister,” Luna says, not opening her eyes, bobbing her head to music only she could hear.

Celestia stirs as she realizes what’s happening—she herself did this from time to time, using her impeccable memory to ’hear’ music as a way to calm herself. Cheerilee had even realized that she’d taught Twilight to do it, when the two of them had started doing it at the same time—you can’t get anything past a pony used to watching twenty foals at once.

“If I were anypony else, your analysis would be complete,” Luna continues, her tone of voice idle. It sends chills down Celestia’s spine; she’s losing herself in the music because whatever was on her mind was terrible indeed. “But you are being yourself. Too forgiving. Refusing to let me be...too wrong.”

Celestia struggles to say anything to this. “I’ve already expressed that you’ve harmed somepony you loved—”

Luna’s eyes open, wide, and Celestia freezes.

Icy-blue, leering, draconic...

The eyes of a demon.

“L-Luna, what is this?” Celestia hisses.

“Twilight should be glad that all I did was hurt her feelings and be a bit bitter with her,” Luna says, her voice wavering between her own and something much, much darker. She closes her eyes again, bracing herself against the floor as if she’d been sprinting for miles, panting. “It could...it could have been so much worse. She wouldn’t have even understood why you were trying to save her from her mistress, who she loved beyond words...”

Celestia rises, wings spreading, but before she can move too far, Luna looks up again, her eyes once again cool teal and all pony.

“This is why I said you need to listen,” Luna says, her body shuddering with each heaving breath as if she’d just been sick. “You said it yourself: I am shamed, diminished, reduced...and yes, her affections made me feel powerful, and want to remain powerful. But sister, I know power. And you are right...I wanted to taste it again. So, so badly. You were wise to remind me of how things were when they were going bad...”

Celestia has to struggle not to recoil, fighting to keep a terrified scowl off her face. “You...you should have—”

“What? I should have what? Told you? Would you have listened as patiently as you are in this moment?” Luna snaps. “I am not like other ponies, sister. I am not like Twilight Sparkle and Cheerilee, where things can be solved with a conversation and a week of naps! I don’t even know if this can be stopped,” she adds, throwing her head back mournfully.

“What is...this, exactly?” Celestia repeats.

“Temptation,” Luna whispers, shuddering. “I could have—I wanted to—”

She stops herself short, looking away and wrapping her wings around herself, trembling.

Celestia lets go of a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

This is...unexpected, but...

She steps forward, slowly, but Luna’s gaze jerks up and she backs away, hooves skittering on the stones of the floor.

“Forgive my...show,” Luna mutters. “But you needed to...understand. This was not something that was wiped away like chalk from a slate, Celestia. You treat it like it’s something that has passed away, and I’m irrational for fearing it will return. You do not understand. It is something...evil, in me. Forever, maybe.”

Celestia closes her eyes, and remembers.

Twilight frowns anxiously. “I don’t like this plan,” she mutters.

“Well I didn’t like my plan, either, but here we are,” Cheerilee says, giving her young lady friend a smug look. She returns a grim, but gentle smile to Celestia. “Remember: you have to be the strong one. The brave one. You’re going to have to swallow her being a bit witchy, I have no doubt. But you have to find it in your heart to trust her, so she can trust you...”

“It is something you control, Luna,” Celestia says, opening her eyes. “You may have been tempted to do things, but you did not do them. You let Twilight go. You have not tried to harm me in any way. You have not interfered with Cheerilee at all. These are opportunities Nightmare Moon would not have let go to waste. You control this.”

The younger alicorn scowls. “For the moment.”

“I appreciate that,” Celestia says, trying to smile. “Fortunately, that is something that can be helped.”

She steps forward again, and this time Luna does not back away, instead just looking up at her sister warily.

“There’s a little darkness in everypony, Luna,” the elder sister says, quietly, coming to a stop at a slight, but comfortable distance. “But you are right to say that while we may in many ways be just like every other pony in Equestria, there are so many ways we just palpably are not. That said...this is not one of them.”

Luna bristles. “Sister, I have tried to tell you—”

“Are you so eager to be damned?” Celestia says, firmly. “You certainly argue, very eloquently and passionately, for being an inevitable loss.”

“Of course not,” Luna says, a light of anger reigniting in her eyes. “But—”

Celestia raises a hoof. “But you fear that you are. You fear, I think, that you aren’t strong enough to fight off this temptation to return to the darkness, because as you say, whatever else you were in the dark, you were powerful. You could not be hurt, or questioned...or rejected. Even if you did wrong.”

Luna’s lips twitch a few times before she mutters, “Yes.”

“That is something I can help you with,” Celestia says, smiling. “Because I know that the power you want is power over yourself. You are hurt—traumatized. Humiliated, as we’ve both agreed. And you have made many mistakes and hurt some ponies—Twilight, myself...but none more than you have been hurt by being unable to just be what you want to be. You judge yourself too harshly. Everypony wants to feel powerful; but for you and I, those stakes are somewhat exaggerated. That’s all.”

They sit for a long time, just staring at each other—Luna scowling faintly, Celestia trying to maintain her smile.

“There are some things even a goddess should not have to face alone...”

Celestia stirs, and feels a bit foolish when she realizes it was she, not Cheerilee, who had spoken.

Well, it helped one princess be brave enough to be weak, didn’t it...?

And indeed:

Luna’s expression fades to a mild sadness. “No.”

She turns away, trotting slowly up to the window again, once more cast in harsh relief against the moon. She stares out at Equestria for a long, long while.

“That means we need to talk, Luna,” Celestia says, with perhaps a little more pressing in it than she probably meant. “About...everything that’s happened, really.”

“I know,” Luna says, quietly, still staring out the window, totally unmoving.

They sit like this for a while more. Celestia wishes she was not so drained, so that she could happily wait on her sister’s fickle temper as she had not a half hour earlier...but wait she does.

When Luna’s silhouette changes, it is so minutely that it might almost be considered nothing, if it were not an alicorn expressing as much control over herself as possible. She barely moves her head to indicate she was addressing Celestia. “When were you of a mind to return to Ponyville next, sister?”

Celestia raises an eyebrow. “I...well, I was waiting to see what came of our conversation before I made any plans.”

“Prudent, as always,” Luna murmurs. She turns her head a little more. “Two weeks.”

“That’s suitable,” Celestia says, rising. “I’ll go write Twilight and Cheeri—”

“You misunderstand.”

Celestia pauses, suddenly unsure.

Luna looks back out the window, sighing. “I, too, could use some time to myself. Some time...apart,” she says, her voice cool and idle. “And these last few days have been helpful for me, in the end. I’ve been too occupied with events and ponies to...brood. And further, if you intend to be absent more in the future, it would be as well if everypony got used to it sooner rather than later. You have yourself told me that sometimes change needs to happen suddenly so that there is no dragging-out period when things are...unclear.”

“I see,” Celestia says, staring at the black figure in the window.

She has a point, and a right...

But do I trust her?

Do I have a choice but to trust her?

“Two weeks, so I can think about what needs to be said. And two weeks for you to rest, with your friends, so that you can be strong enough to listen to them.” Now Luna turns fully, her face deadly serious, her eyes gleaming with the harsh light of stars, burning in the heavens. “There will be many things that will be very hard for you to hear, sister.”

Celestia’s heart pounds, hard, a few times, and she takes a slow breath to calm herself.

“Of that I have no doubt,” she says, through a weak smile. “But speaking from my own experience, recently, I suspect they will be just as hard for you to say.”

Luna nods, solemnly. “Perhaps.”

And something about the way she says this makes it clear that was that.

Celestia gives her a little smile and turns back to the table. With careful grace, she returns the slim crown to her forehead and feels herself return to herself—

Or whatever crude words I want to put around this feeling...

Maybe Cheerilee and Twilight will know, between them. Someday.

—-and lifts the parcel, deftly slipping the glasses and empty bottle of wine into it with ease.

She has almost reached the door when Luna’s voice sounds.

“Sister, one more thing.”

Celestia turns. Luna remains silhouetted against the moon, a slim black figure, small and momentarily robbed of her rightful divinity but still proud for all that.

“Yes?”

“About...her...”

Ah.

Celestia clears her throat, frowning. She is less certain of this than she wants to be, but she has to hope for the best. It’s rarely unreasonable to expect from Twilight Sparkle, after all.

“She is still very hurt. Frightened of you. But I believe she wants to forgive you, deep down,” Celestia says, carefully. “That will take some time, I think.”

Luna is still as ever. She doesn’t respond immediately, but Celestia senses the intensity of her thought and remains where she is, waiting for Luna to make up her mind and speak.

Finally the silhouette moves, a shadow across the bright face of the moon.

“I love you, sister.”

“And I love you, Luna,” Celestia says, smiling. “You know where I’ll be if you need me.”

And as the doors to the darkened chambers close behind her, Celestia knows Luna is smiling, too.


• • •



Sunlight suddenly falls across Cheerilee’s face, and in half-conscious defiance of the morning finally arriving, she automatically rolls over and groans.

It’s Saturday. Can’t I have one day where I can just...uh...what’s it called...?

Sleep! Sleep. That’s it.

A snatch of idle thought waves as it passes through her mind, and she grins.

She does, after all, have a direct line to the right pony to complain to. Since she was sleeping out on the balcony, all Cheerilee had to do was throw a pillow or something.

Heh.

But if she had hoped to doze back off, that hope is now extinguished. She’s been thinking too hard; even covering her head with a pillow won’t stave off the terrible inevitability of consciousness anymore.

Cheerilee rolls over, reaching out for Twilight—

Her eyes open all the way and she sits up, brows furrowing. Twilight’s place in bed isn’t even warm.

They talked about this...!

“Twilight Spar—!” she begins to yell, but before her lady friend can enjoy the full extent of her awakening displeasure, Cheerilee is interrupted.

It is a rather loud explosion, after all—even muffled as it was coming from the basement.

It sort of rumbles and lingers for a while, in the fashion of something rather complicated failing spectacularly to stay in one piece, and is highlighted now and again with little staccato bangs and crashes of ricocheting debris. Cheerilee shuts her eyes against the sound, wincing every time she hears something heavy crash around.

After twenty seconds or so, the worst seems to be over. Cheerilee opens an eye, peering around the faintly-lit room and out into the library beyond the door, which is now hanging open.

Nothing appears to be on fire or floating in midair—so far, anyways.

So, on the whole, not so bad, comparatively. Room for cautious optimism.

Cheerilee forces herself to uncoil from her tense cringe, willing muscles to relax and taking three deep, calming breaths.

In...I’mgoingtokillher...and out.

In...She’sgoingtoregretthis...and out.

In...Ihopethey’reokay....and out.

With that, she rolls out of their big bed and trots out to greet what was already looking to be a very irritating morning.

The library floor has not survived the excitement with much grace; at least two shelves had fallen and others had vomited their contents onto the floor. Cheerilee tsks under her breath, shaking her head.

At least she wouldn’t be the one cleaning it all up.

“Twilight?” Cheerilee calls, not entirely happily, as she descends the staircase to the main floor. “Twilight, honey, is everything all right?”

The door to the basement bursts open and Twilight Sparkle emerges from a cloud of bright multi-colored smoke, coughing and hacking. The air is suddenly filled with a strange citrus smell of such immense potency that Cheerilee can already feel her sinuses draining.

Twilight’s eyes were hidden behind a massive pair of smoked goggles—well, they were smoked now, anyways, along with the rest of her face and most of the front of her body, and her mane was thrust out behind her head as if it had been glued that way. The only thing that wasn’t sooty and blackened is her huge, bright smile, which is suddenly thrust into Cheerilee’s face as Twi grabs her hoof excitedly.

“Cheerilee!” Twilight hisses in an enthusiastic half-whisper, shaking Cheerilee’s hoof vigorously. “Point zero three percent, Cheerilee!”

“That’s nice,” Cheerilee replies, extracting her hoof from the wild shaking with some difficulty. “That’s...good, I take it?”

“Good? Good?” Twilight exclaims, lifting the glasses from her face with magic to reveal the clean coat underneath, making her look bizarrely like a raccoon in reverse. Her eyes were wide with excitement and delight. “Cheerilee, it’s...amazing!”

“It doesn’t seem like, er, all that much, is all,” Cheerilee says, trying to keep up as best she could.

Another pair of hoofbeats on the basement stairs draws their attention, and another mare appears—to Cheerilee’s shock, just as dirty and exploded as Twilight. The very ends of her short pink mane is slightly burned, even.

Celestia gives Cheerilee a pleasant smile, raising her own goggles to reveal the stark white beneath. “The important thing is that it’s point zero three, rather than, say, point three. You see?”

“Transmission flux variance!” Twilight gushes, grabbing Cheerilee’s hoof tightly again. “Don’t you see? I would never have expected to get it down that low. Well, not in these preliminary tests, anyways...”

Cheerilee gives her best mare a faint smile, before letting her eyes wander over to the princess’ so they could share an affectionate but weary glance. They both know all too well that there was a point where Twilight Sparkle’s attachment to the here and now was a bit lost among the excitement of poking a hole in the universe.

Celestia clears her throat, giving Twilight’s barely contained glee a tolerant little smile before turning back to Cheerilee. “We’re working on a permanent transportation array—just a device anypony can step into and teleport to another device elsewhere. Briefly, she’s describing the likelihood of an apple being sent from one place and arriving as an orange.”

Twilight frowns and shoots Celestia a frustrated look. “That’s a bit of a generalization. You’re skipping over all the nuances—particle flows, aether dissonance—”

“It’s also what happened to the last six apples we put through the array, Twilight,” Celestia says, calmly.

“That’s no excuse not to explain it thoroughly...” Twilight mutters.

Cheerilee doesn’t even try to suppress a chuckle. “So, you got an apple back this time, then?”

Twilight and Celestia share a guilty look—there’s no other word for it.

Miss Cheerilee frowns. “What happened?”

“Er...well...” Twilight begins, pawing at the floor anxiously.

The princess clears her throat—and to Cheerilee’s momentary amusement, doesn’t quite meet her eye. “Spike was...helping us.”

“Hiding in a corner and complaining that he was trying to take a nap, more like,” Twilight growls.

“I see,” Cheerilee says, in a tone of voice the Cutie Mark Crusaders had come to dread and immediately obey.

Celestia and Twilight share another anxious look, then turn helpless grins on Cheerilee.

“Well, he, er...wandered onto one of the transmission pads. Mostly by accident. I think,” Twilight finishes, a bit lamely.

Cheerilee raises a hoof to her temple, sighing. It was going to be one of those days, she could tell—the kind which happened more and more to you the closer you were to Twilight Sparkle.

So...basically every day, for me, then?

Thank heavens.

But while internally she was smiling contentedly, outwardly she groaned—that was her role in this little pantomime. “Please tell me he’s not an orange now...”

“Well, uh, no—that’s why I’m happy, you see? The flux was really low. Uh. Good thing, huh?” Twilight adds, her grin growing desperate.

“Oh, totally.”

Celestia sniffs. “The recurring citrus distortion seems to have presented itself in a different sort of way.”

Her horn lights, and a gentle wind pushes the lingering remnants of the orange-fresh smog out a nearby window, where it could dissipate to “pleasantly subtle” instead of “oh heavens, my nose is falling off my face why is this happening”.

“So he’s fine, then?”

One of Twilight’s ears flaps nervously.. “Er, I assume so. There’s no reason for him not to be.” The princess gives her a bit of a look, and Twilight frowns. “What? There’s not.”

Cheerilee sighs. “You don’t know?”

“Look, there’s no reason he would be hurt. Probably. We, uh...well, uh, the problem is that we don’t, er...we don’t know where he is,” Twilight says, cringing a little. “The test array wasn’t really meant for something larger than an orange. Apple. Aheh.”

“Very stable, though,” Celestia says to Twilight, and they nod to each other thoughtfully as if this made up for everything else.

Cheerilee frowns. “Until it exploded.”

“Explode is such an imprecise word,” Twilight says, wincing at Cheerilee’s tone of voice. “I think it would be more correct to say that there was a localized increase of entropy in the particle stream regulator array, which caused catastrophic, er, self-disassembly...”

She trailed off, the weakness of her voice arguably measurable by the height of Cheerilee’s ever-raising eyebrow.

“It was working fine until Spike stepped into it and blew it up,” Twilight mutters petulantly, after a moment. “I know what went wrong, though. I think.”

The princess closes her eyes and holds herself up haughtily. “I have found that things working properly does not always mean they aren’t going to explode. It is the cost of progress and the risk rational inquiry imposes upon us that the realms of unexplored knowledge are sometimes likewise unpredictable.”

Beside her, Twilight nods vigorously.

Deep breaths, Cheerilee...focus.

You don’t want to start laughing, do you? They’ll never take you seriously again!

“How far are we talking, here?” Cheerilee asks, giving her very special somepony a very special withering glare. “Canterlot? The moon?”

“Just the environs of Ponyville, I should think,” Celestia says, fluffing her wings. “There was only so much power in the crystal batteries. I can find him—”

Cheerilee waves a hoof. “Let me take care of finding Spike. You two need to put my library back the way you found it.”

Twilight raises a hoof. “Uh—”

“Twilight, it might do to make sure that all our magical charge has been expended, since the containment has been compromised,” Celestia interrupts, before Twilight does something foolish like question Cheerilee’s absolute claim on their home at this particular moment.

The unicorn’s ears prick up, dislodging the goggles so they fall back down over her eyes—not that she appears to notice. Business Twilight was back. “Ah! You’re right, you’re right...we do want there to be a library to clean, after all...”

With that, she turns on the spot and vanishes back into her laboratory at what Cheerilee is a little disturbed to note is a slightly higher speed than is necessarily comforting given what she’d just said.

A sound makes Cheerilee turn. Celestia is sitting, calmly, eyes closed, the golden glow of her power wrapped over the spilled displays and overturned bookcases. For a few minutes, the library floor is a blizzard of pages and books forcing Cheerilee to duck out of the way more than once. But before she knows it, her home is as good as new—everything in its place, safe and sound. There’s even a neat little pile of dust near the door.

The princess opens her eyes, giving Cheerilee an amused little grin—she’d even managed to clean herself and tidy her mane a bit. “How did I do?”

Cheerilee gives her a little half-frown. “You might be accused of showing off a little.”

“Ah, I suppose so. Forgive me,” Celestia says, although with only so much contrition in her voice.

“I’ll think about it,” Cheerilee replies, before nodding to the basement. “When did she get up?”

The princess gives her an apologetic look. “I told her you’d be...annoyed.”

“That early, huh?”

“I’m afraid so. But she had a rather sudden...inspiration, and, well...” Celestia trails off, sighing happily. “We did have some success with it.”

Cheerilee rolls her eyes. “Yes, I heard.”

The princess’ eyes twinkle with amusement. “When we’ve finished salvaging things, I’ll see she gets some rest. Once the coffee’s worn off, I suspect she’ll think of bed herself.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Something’s still sitting wrong with Cheerilee, though.

Inspiration, huh?

“Is it just me,” she asks, her tone careful, “Or is Twilight getting inspirations a lot more than she used to, now that you’ve removed that trigger in her head?”

The princess smiles what Cheerilee has come to think of as her ’I am the wise and powerful immortal princess now’ smile. “If you’re asking whether the trigger was putting a cap on more than her magic use, I think you do me a disservice. After all, it never limited what might be called her potential—just prevented her from hurting herself accidentally. Still...I feel that you make a valid observation that she might feel less...constrained, now.”

“Not so much that the trigger is gone, but that it was removed?” Cheerilee asks, raising an eyebrow.

Celestia’s smile doesn’t change. “Ponies are born free, but wheresoever they go, they bind chains about themselves...”

“...and no chain binds as much, or chafes as little as the one placed by one’s own hoof,” Cheerilee finishes. “And ponies used to tell me all my problems are just in my head as if that was supposed to be some kind of comfort.”

They sit in silence for awhile.

But there’s something that Cheerilee needs to ask. She feels like she already knows the answer, but it’s one thing to suspect and another to be t—

No. Not told by the princess.

To be corroborated by a mutual friend with some expertise.

“She’s...special, isn’t she,” Cheerilee murmurs.

Celestia gives her a puzzled little smile. “Surely I don’t need to tell you that, Cheerilee.”

“Don’t be saccharine,” Cheerilee says, frowning for a second. “After all of this—even after how mundane all this has ended up being...I can’t help but feel like...”

She trails off.

I feel like what?

Celestia’s smile fades into an even, but serious expression—but she says nothing. She’s very old, and clever—she’ll force Cheerilee to speak her mind to continue the conversation, not relying on implication. Not about something like this.

Not about Twilight.

“I feel like there’s still something I don’t...get about you two. Like...the more you two spend time together, the more you seem...”

The princess cocks her head, eyes narrowing very slightly in curiousity.

Cheerilee shrugs, hopelessly. Directness it was, then.

“The more you seem...similar,” she says, her dissatisfaction clear on her voice.

Celestia raises a curious eyebrow. “Well, she is—was—my student—”

“That’s not what I mean. I—I don’t know what I mean. Of course she’s like you, and you’ve influenced her, but...it’s something else.”

Their eyes meet, and Cheerilee knows, suddenly, that Celestia doesn’t need her to use crude things like words to explain her feelings.

She knows, too.

Cheerilee swallows. Somehow she senses something important is going on, but...words fail her.

Again.

A distressing sensation for somepony who thinks herself clever with words!

The princess blinks, once, and seems to hesitate before speaking. That is in and of itself unusual enough to make Cheerilee pay extra attention, but in these circumstances...

“Would it comfort you to hear that I can’t explain it, either?” Celestia says, very quietly. Reverently, almost, as if they are sharing something sacred.

Cheerilee thinks about this for a minute. “Not..not really, actually.”

“I’ve been thinking about it myself, more and more—as I talk to my sister, to you, to everypony, and of course as I work with her...” The princess rises, striding closer to Cheerilee, and gives her significant glance.

“Imagine...imagine you’re a poet. Not a stretch, I think, of course, but now also imagine you have more than a few centuries of perfecting your art to your name. You may as well know every poem ever written by heart, and understand them all in a deep and personal way as well as being very, very good at understanding how they move and influence other ponies. You know everything there is to know about style, meter, creating imagery—everything about the mechanics and the theory. Indeed, you’re considered an expert on poetry just by virtue of having been around for most of the development of poetry through history, rather than because you make a specific study of it as your primary focus in life.

“Then you take a student—not that you haven’t before, or that they weren’t great poets that you’re proud to have known. But this student is different. She’s always been very, very good; naturally gifted, intelligent, thoughtful, hard-working, and dedicated. But the more you teach her, the more it seems that you’re not really telling her things she doesn’t already know—more that you seem to just be reminding her of something that had momentarily slipped her mind. When you are reciting poems to her, now and again she completes them for you, because it was just obvious to her how they were going to go. She grasps almost everything instantly and is voracious in pursuing understanding—but more importantly, as she gets older she begins teaching you. She makes connections you wouldn’t have ever seen, but are just...obvious to her. Apparent. She creates new poetry in different forms as easy as breathing—labor that would take others months or years take her days at most. And she can explain it all, from the bottom up, fundamentally. It’s not just a fluke. She’s more than a genius or a prodigy, she’s...”

Cheerilee has nothing to say to that, really; she just watches as the princess shakes her head, staring out into the middle distance lost in thought.

The princess turns to her, and smiles. “She’s...special.”

Divine wisdom of the heavens, huh? Yeah, right.

“Oh, well, that explains everything, then.”

The princess doesn’t rise to this playful jab, though, instead, growing solemn again. “I know it doesn’t.”

In the quiet of that moment, the lazy buzz of Ponyville waking up to a sunny Saturday morning manages to fill the room.

Cheerilee looks up. “What does that mean?”

A familiar disquiet lurks in her mind—but now she has somepony to talk to who really understands the situation, and can help her. The difference that makes is...big.

She would have been afraid, before. Afraid that Twilight would outgrow her, or lose sight of her—and truth be told, there was still a little of that buzzing around in her head. But that was the least part of her, the part that still doubted her own right to be happy and loved. And now it was being drowned out by the rest of her, which was...

Curious? Excited?

And from Celestia’s cunning little smile in return...she knows she’s not alone in feeling that way.

“I don’t know yet,” the princess says—and maybe it was just because she was getting to know Celestia a little better than the average pony, but Cheerilee is certain that most wouldn’t catch the subtle, very youthful note of eagerness in the princess’ voice.

Cheerilee smiles. “Well, then. We’ll just have to see for ourselves, hmm?”

“It certainly promises to be interesting,” Celestia says. She straightens up, but gives Cheerilee a knowing little look. “Speaking of, I catch hints of court politics now and again, since I’m in Canterlot once in a while, so between you and I let it be known that the magical world in general is wondering why I haven’t named her Arch-Mage yet...”

“Arch-M—!” Cheerilee begins to exclaim, but the princess waves a hoof dismissively.

“That’s a little ways off in the future, I think,” Celestia says, frowning a touch irritably. “I perhaps phrased that poorly. Let me say instead: the magical world in general is wondering why I haven’t named my famous and decorated student Arch-Mage yet. And as we’ve discussed in some detail lately, there is no such pony, nor do any of us want there to be. There is, however, a very talented young mare named Twilight Sparkle of Ponyville, who is still a bit too young to be taken seriously in that cloak no matter her accomplishments. You see?”

“I...think I do, yeah,” Cheerilee says, frowning at the way the world was in general. “But why are you telling me?”

Celestia just smiles, rather playfully. “Mostly so that later, when you’re complaining to me that you’re getting too old to be attending state dinners and Galas and things, I can say I warned you when you still had time to escape before it was too late.”

Cheerilee freezes—the implication is clear.

Not that she liked the idea of being somepony’s default “plus one”, but—

Was that—did she—

She’s disturbed by a hoof falling gently on her shoulder. Celestia was looking down at her with a gentle, calming smile. Something about that smile, about her eyes, about everything, radiated a gentle but unshakable sense that everything was going to be alright.

Bathing in the morning sunlight, Celestia...exists.

It’s all she has to do.

She may be more like us than we think, but...she’s still the princess.

“She will need you,” the Princess of the Sun says—no, prophesies. “She will need the strength of somepony whose hooves are planted firmly in the earth, and will not back down for anypony...”

“...not even myself,” Cheerilee whispers.

Lips press gently against her forehead—warm, loving, and almost unbearably overwhelming in their honest affection. “Well said.”

The words tickle Cheerilee’s ears, and she shivers, blinking—

Celestia, her friend, sits before her with what for Her Royal Highness is a lazy smile plastered across her face.

There’s a part of Cheerilee that wants to worship this wonderful creature—bend down, prostrate herself, beg for even a scrap of attention. But she’s not about to start listening to that sort of nonsense now. She doesn’t back down for anypony.

“No fair using...divine...shiny...magic powers on me,” she says, waving a hoof irritably. “I’m still mad at you for not putting Twilight back to bed. And for trying to blow up my house, for that matter.”

Celestia puts a hoof to her chest, as if terribly offended. “Try? The only thing I tried to do was teleport an apple across a room.”

“That’s what Twi always says, and I don’t take it from her, either,” Cheerilee says, with a snort. She turns and begins heading out the front door into the wide world beyond. “I’ll go find Spike. I’d consider it a favor if the Library was still here when I got back. Visible, too—”

“That’s a little unfair of you, Cheerilee. I thought I had explained that yesterday’s little mishap was not something we could have predicted. It only happened because of—”

“Yes, yes, I know, vector conflict, aetherical flow ratios, I don’t know,” Cheerilee says, not turning around. “The point was I was in the bath at the time.”

“Cheerilee?”

Celestia’s voice is not...playful, anymore.

Cheerilee stops and turns, suddenly worried she’d upset the princess—

“Thank you,” Celestia says, simply, through a thin smile.

They hold their gaze for a moment.

What is she thanking me for? She was the one doing all the—

Divine...magic stuff.

Which is only part of who she is.

“Just don’t blow up my house today, and we’ll call it even,” Cheerilee says, with a smile.

By the time Cheerilee steps out into the bright sunlit morning, Celestia is already downstairs helping Twilight do something loud. Banging and weird ringing sounds flow out through the little windows at the very base of the tree, filling the plaza with their uphill battle against the wreckage of Twilight’s teleporter.

Cheerilee takes a big, deep breath. It’s already been a big day, and she hasn’t even had her coffee yet—

“Miss Cheerilee?”

Her eyes open to take in the speaker. As always, it takes some time, and craning of the neck.

“Mac,” she says, smiling. “How are you?”

“Oh, Ah’m...well...” The huge farmer reaches up and scratches behind his ear nervously. “To be perfectly honest, Ah’m here because Spike sort of...appeared...above our table this mornin’ while we were eatin’ breakfast. Not that he ain’t welcome, o’course, but...”

Cheerilee smiles, brightly. “Oh, thank goodness. I was about to go looking for him, actually—is he alright?” A memory prods her, and because there is a part of her that really enjoys how Ponyville is these days, she gives him a sly look and asks, “He’s not an orange, is he?”

“What? Er...no,” Mac says, peering at her warily for a moment before something occurs to him. “Although now that ya mention it, he did smell like—ya know, it still smells like—”

“Don’t worry too much about that, it’s fine,” Cheerilee says, hurriedly. “He’s not hurt or anything?”

“Nah, but our table is. He’s not such a little guy like he was anymore. AJ gave him somethin’ to eat and now he’s out with Bloom and the girls, Ah expect. Ah was actually hoping somepony here might be able to tell me...uh, why he—”

“There was only a point zero three flux variance,” Cheerilee reports, crisply.

Mac stares at her for a moment.

“Is that...good?” he asks.

Behind Cheerilee, something very heavy and metal falls to the hard stone floor of the basement, clattering and smashing at some length. Mac stares at the tiny windows at the base of the tree in alarm, but Cheerilee just smiles.

“Apparently,” she says, once the sound stops, rolling her eyes.

Mac grins. “Ah was gettin’ scared there for a second. Ah know you an’ miss Twilight are good an’ close, but you know how unicorns are. Always gotta keep their hooves on the ground or they start gettin’...weird.”

“Oh, there’s nothing stopping that, I think,” Cheerilee says, raising an eyebrow. “Still...I consider myself lucky to have somepony who’ll remind me where my hooves have to be, now and again.”

Mac opens his mouth to say something, but pauses. His eyes move back and forth as if actually re-reading what he was about to say in midair to make sure it was the sort of thing he wanted to say, now, at this moment, to Cheerilee, specifically.

She smiles, waiting on him.

Eventually Mac just nods. “Ah’m glad Ah was a help, hon—uh, Cheerilee.”

That should sting her—that thoughtless reminder that they are still, deep down, connected. It should yank on her heart, make her ache, and fret, and worry...

But no. It’s just something that needs...time. Like a lot of things, between a lot of ponies.

He’s looking at her warily, expecting her to be upset.

Cheerilee sighs, putting a hoof on his huge shoulder. She smiles broadly when he neither shies from it, nor tries to lean into it as if it’s more than it is.

We’re getting there, Mac.

“It was a little rough there for a while,” she says, somewhat shocked not to be struck dead by the vengeful gods of understatement. She looks up at him, smiling. “But on the whole...I think things are really starting to sort themselves out. I think I’m going to be alright.”

And as if summoned to balance out her sudden surge of optimism, the basement explodes again.

She feels Mac’s shoulder tense under her hoof, but she just waits, smiling and blinking. A huge gout of red smoke that smells strongly of chili peppers floats past, stinging her eyes.

After a moment, Twilight’s voice carries up from the basement. “We’re okay! Er, mostly.”

Cheerilee sighs, and lets herself surrender to Mac’s suddenly disbelieving look.

“Pretty good, anyways,” she says.
> Epilogue:  A Further Tale
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                                                     



“Twi...?”

“Huh?”

Her mother had a word for this slow state of mind, back when she was a filly. Not groggy, no—something aggressively cutesy.

What was it?

Oh, right.

“Muzzy,” Twilight murmurs, smiling vaguely.

“I noticed, honey. It’s adorable, as I’m sure you know,” Cheerilee says, appearing in the greyish blur of Twilight’s vision as a sort of big purplish blob with some fluffy pink on top.

Twilight blinks a few times, and the vague shape focuses into the more distinct but no less maroon curves of her wife, standing out boldly against the white walls and pale wood furnishings of their private apartment in Twilight’s tower on the Palace grounds. Through a window behind Cheerilee, the the very tail end of sunset cast the castle in a brilliant display of reds, oranges, and deep bluish-purples.

Being the Arch-Mage has perks, sometimes.

“Oh...hey, Cheerilee...” she burbles, looking around. She’s lying on their loveseat—the one Twilight used to study on as a student, in fact, well-loved in that very special euphemistic sense that means “falling apart and stained, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to get rid of it.”

That’s...good, yes. Familiar.

But even having cleared her head a little, everything seems hazy and indistinct. Cheerilee’s outline still blurs and wobbles, and her voice seems to come slightly before or after her lips move. To be fair, she’s been hung over before, but—

But...

But she doesn’t remember drinking—certainly not enough to lay her out like this. Not that it took all that much, granted, but still.

No, she’s just...tired.

So tired, as if she’s been awake for days. Her eyes ache, and her head throbs urgently. Even her neck is straining to keep her head lifted, as if her skull has been replaced with lead.

“Hi, Twilight,” Cheerilee says, stepping forward and planting a gentle kiss on Twilight’s forehead, letting her nose brush against Twilight’s horn just enough to send a little jolt of happy shivers down the unicorn. “You fell asleep over your notes. Are they that boring?”

“Huh?” Twilight looks down, and indeed, her latest binder full of research notes is lying open across her hooves. There’s even a little bit of drool on the upper-left corner. “Oh. What? No, no, I—”

Cheerilee laughs. “Just teasing. Uh...why don’t you go over them some more, and I’ll bring you some tea.”

Twilight looks from Cheerilee, down to the notes, and back up to Cheerilee. “Dun wanna.”

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t give me that, young mare,” Cheerilee says, raising an eyebrow in a rather peculiar way that makes her seem more like Princess Celestia than ever.

“Dun wanna,” Twilight repeats, pouting. “I’m muzzy. Adorable. Wanna sleep.”

“Twilight, my love,” Cheerilee says, putting a hoof under the unicorn’s chin to draw her gaze upwards. “If I hadn’t learned to resist you being adorable long ago, I would have pounced on you in public on one of several hundred occasions, and I’m fairly certain Her Royal Highness would have Had A Word with me about it.”

Their lips meet, gently, for a moment.

“Hmmph, Her Royal Highness,” Twilight murmurs. “You only call her that when you’re mad at her.”

“Well...right, right..” Cheerilee trails off, looking away for a second. “I would, wouldn’t I, since she’s been working you to the bone lately. Which, I imagine, is why you’re so tired. It’s all well and good to be excited about your research, but I think sometimes she overestimates your ability to keep up with her. We’re not all immortal sun goddesses, after all.”

“So let me sleep.”

Cheerilee smiles. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too early to sleep, Twilight.”

Twilight’s ears prick up as she shifts to peek over Cheerilee’s shoulder. “No it’s not. I just saw—”

Through the window, the sun hangs high above the horizon, only just starting to set. The golden accents of the palace gleam bright in the sunlight.

“What the...” Twilight says, but before she could start thinking things through, Cheerilee’s hoof presses her back down onto the couch.

“Twi, honey, just stay with me awhile. An hour or so, that’s all. If you’re good, I’ll put you to bed myself,” Cheerilee adds, with a suggestive little glint in her eye.

A lot of thought passes through Twilight’s mind very quickly. Most of it is memory, because imagination has been pressed to be more exciting over the years.

She purses her lips thoughtfully. “Mmm...well, when you put it that way...”

Cheerilee’s smile broadens for a moment, but her eyes dance across Twilight’s features anxiously. “Maybe I’ll stick around, if you don’t mind. Read that atrocious novel the publishers want me to review...”

“Mmm, sure,” Twilight mumbles, looking down at her notes. Cheerilee climbs up on the couch and cuddles into her, a warm bulk pressing gently against Twilight’s body, with occasional little jabs from the corner of the hardcover book into her ribs.

It’s hard to focus to start out with, but it quickly grows maddeningly difficult. The words swim and blur on the page, her own careful writing seeming almost as illegible as Rainbow Dash’s best penmanship.

Athletic bonus trap weasel? That...no, that’s not right, it’s...um...

The slurry of words is like a grey mush filling her head, threatening to spread all over her mind and suffocate it to death.

Or at least, the death of sleep.

Her eyes begin to close...

“Twilight Sparkle!”

The tone is a very familiar one that has been hard-wired into Twilight Sparkle since she was very young, commanding immediate obedience—

The teacher is talking now, sit up and pay attention!

Even if it is all weird and distorted, as if heard through a pillow or after being deafened by some kind of nearby explosion—a situation Twilight has to admit she is far too familiar with to consider herself completely sane.

Before she knows it Twilight is sitting straight upwards, the sudden movement making her head ache. “Yes, ma’am—ah, er...” She turns, and wilts a little under Cheerilee’s grumpy expression.

“I will not have you sneaking your way back into sleeping all day and working all night, Twilight,” the earth pony says, with a pointed glare. “I didn’t marry the owl, for heavens’ sake.”

Twilight chuckles, weakly. “Uh, right.”

Cheerilee keeps her pinned under the intense scrutiny for a second, before huffing an irritable sigh and looking down at her novel again, frowning slightly. “Read it aloud if that will help.”

“But you hate it when I—”

The elder mare makes a sharp little noise to indicate that she’ll call Pinkie Pie for an impromptu “keep Twilight awake” party if, indeed, that’s what it would take.

Twilight tries to smile, but suspects she’s failing. “Right. Uh...sorry.”

If she noticed this politeness, Cheerilee’s only reaction is to flick an ear in a huffy kind of way.

Squinting down at the pages, Twilight clears her throat and begins.

“Ah...ahem. Let’s see. Experimental modalities suggest that...um...no, that’s not where I was. I was...aetheric banality levels approached maximum when distortion field ratios synchronized their wavelength with the crystal resonance lev—”

“How unbelievably tedious.”

Twilight sniffs, and turns to give her wife a frown. “Look, I know you don’t like—”

And freezes.

The room is dark, drowning in shadows—and more to the point, it’s not the same room.

The only light here is the pale blue glow made by white stone in moonlight, shining in through the tall windows that line this place—more like doors to the open sky than a hole in the wall for looking out of. Blue silk curtains wave gently in a cool breeze like smoke flowing in the air. Beyond them lies only the black void of the naked heavens, punctured now and again by brilliant starlight...

...and the bright white orb of the moon.

Twilight struggles to her hooves—this couch is not her battered, beloved old friend, but rather an elegantly upholstered, complicated thing made of much paler wood. Her notes tumble to the floor. “What? Where...?”

“Tedious,” the voice says again, behind her. Now Twilight recognizes it immediately.

“Luna—Princess Luna,” she says, tossing her head this way and that, peering into the many gloom-filled shadows of the room. “What’s going on? Why I am I in your chambers?”

“So that we can speak in private, Twilight. Why else?”

Twilight spins on her hooves to face the voice, and there is the Princess of the Moon in all her glory—barely half a meter away. The unicorn scrambles backwards with as much dignity as she can muster so that she can look up into the princess’ sly smile rather than at her chest.

“This is a dream, isn’t it,” Twilight growls, hoping the embarrassed blush she feels burning on her cheeks wasn’t showing. “I must have fallen asleep...”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps you’ve just woken up from one. Who can say, with dreams?” Luna says, in a familiar tone of distant enigma. After a heartbeat, she grins. “Aside from myself, of course.”

“Well, say, then.”

Luna just sighs. “When did you get so...boring, Twilight?”

“What?”

“Like this,” Luna says, strolling forward with easy grace. With a gentle ring of magic, the research notes spring up from the floor and present themselves for the princess’ inspection. Luna’s face falls into an exceptionally expressive look of intense apathy as the pages whirr and flicker in front of her. “Words, words, words, words....words.”

Twilight bristles. “So?”

The princess rolls her eyes. “So?” she mimics, mockingly, her tongue lolling out stupidly as she speaks.

“Luna, I’m really not in the mood for this,” Twilight says, intentionally dropping the honorific. After all, she was slightly less under Luna’s hoof than the average Equestrian, for a whole lot of really good reasons. “I’m leaving.”

“Oh, Twilight, don’t be like that.”

“And what am I being, exactly? Boring?”

“Mmm, you said it, not me,” Luna replies, grinning.

“If you think I’m boring, it shows you don’t know a whole lot about me, I have to say,” Twilight says, her mind privately tossing up a few selected memories for review in case her confidence in this point found itself wavering under the mocking gaze of a more or less literal goddess.

The folio of research notes snapped shut, and Luna’s grin faded into a somewhat more pleasant smile. “Well, that’s just it, Twilight. I, above anypony perhaps one or two, know very well that you...” Luna leans down and whispers into Twilight’s ear. “Are most definitely not boring.”

There’s something about the way she says this which—

Twilight shudders.

Which makes me want to get away from her. Now.

“Luna. Princess. Please. You’re making me uncomfortable,” Twilight manages, hating how pathetic that sounds even though it is as true as anything. She turns away, closing her eyes tight and chewing her lower lip.

A hoof falls on her shoulder—gently, to be fair, but still.

Twilight spins, indulging anger to burn away her nervousness. “Don’t you dare touch—”

Celestia recoils, eyes wide with shock.

“P-princess!” Twilight says, stunned. “But...but I...”

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Cheerilee asks, stepping forward. “You, uh, zoned out there, for a second.”

Again Twilight finds herself throwing her head back and forth to get her bearings. The action draws attention to a heavy weight on her shoulders, and she grasps at it—finding only the heavy white cloak of her position as Arch-Mage, held in place at the throat, as always, by the brilliant star sapphire Spike had given her (by his own admission, reluctantly) from his nascent hoard.

The princess’ private study is as bright and airy as ever, even with the windows shut against early evening. A fire burns merrily in the fireplace behind Celestia and Cheerilee, who are peering at her fretfully.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight says, bringing a hoof to her temple, massaging away the sudden ache. “I didn’t mean to...er...”

The princess settles herself into her usual expression of patient goodwill. “I should be the one to apologize, Twilight. I seem to have startled you.”

“Don’t worry about it, please. Uh...” Twilight looks around, hoping to find any clue about what she was doing here. “What...what was I doing?”

Celestia and Cheerilee share a nervous glance, but then the princess chuckles. “Well, for a moment, you were just standing there stock-still.”

“Before that, I mean,” Twilight says, gruffly.

Celestia nods, smiling in a gentle way that Twilight only knows to be a bit sarcastic because she knows her friend quite well. “Before that, Arch-Mage, you were telling me you had some ideas for new research.”

Twilight furrows her brow. “I...was?”

Sure, why not? Go with that, see where it leads...

“Right,” she adds, nodding seriously. “Right, of course. I, uh—”

Cheerilee steps forward, putting a hoof on Twi’s chest. “Twi. Honey. I think you’ve been pushing yourself a little too hard. Why don’t we just relax awhile, hmm? It’s been a long time since the three of us could just sit down. Just...stay here, with us.”

“What a lovely idea,” Celestia agrees, suddenly. “I’ll get some coffee, shall—”

Almost imperceptibly, Cheerilee shakes her head.

“On second thought, perhaps not,” the princess says, not skipping a beat. “It’s a bit late for coffee.”

Twilight opens her mouth to speak—

And closes it, looking at her companions through narrowed eyes.

For their part, they look back at her, occasionally shooting a glance back and forth to one another.

“Actually,” Twilight begins, carefully, “actually, I think I would love some coffee. I’m feeling a bit worn out.”

Celestia raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Then drink up before it gets cold, Twilight!”

She appends this by discreetly sipping from her own cup.

Twilight’s ears prick upwards as she is suddenly aware of the warmth next to her left arm. Her head snaps down, and there’s a steaming mug of coffee sitting right next to her on a little table—and more striking, it’s half-empty, as if she’s already been drinking.

In fact, she can taste it on her tongue, now that she notices...

She stares at the steam, rising from the cup in weird, swirling patterns. Almost like—

“Diagrams!” Luna says, lamenting, prowling around behind her. “Formulas!”

Twilight stiffens. “Analysis.”

“Analysis,” Luna jeers again, still prowling around the miserably tiny form of Twilight Sparkle. Her chambers seem darker now, the princess’ every movement blurring into shadow as if she has to concentrate to be separate from it. “What good has it done you?”

“It has enhanced my understanding—”

“Understanding!” Luna blurts in a gale of mocking laughter. “No, no, no. Not understanding. Comprehension, perhaps. Systematizing. But understanding? No, Twilight, no,” she says, stopping in front of Twilight.

Her teal eyes bore into Twilight’s, demanding that she yield—

I am the Arch-Mage of Equestria, not some nervous schoolfilly!

“I have done great things, with my analysis,” Twilight says, in a polite but very definite way.

The princess draws back, taking in a deep, hissing inbreath in a strange pantomime of being struck. “Yes. You have. And I acknowledge this freely, because I—a goddess—admire your prowess. I really do.” She leaned down, eyes inches from Twilight’s. “But I fail to be overwhelmed.”

Twilight’s eyes narrow. “I never set out to overwhelm you, Your Highness.”

“Admirable. Still, I feel like impressing me would be something like an accomplishment,” the princess says, smirking. “I am, after all, not without honors myself in the area of magical practice.”

“Neither is your sister—who asked to be my research partner.”

Luna’s expression darkens around a smile. “My sister and I...differ, philosophically.”

Twilight hopes her shrug expresses a more extreme lack of concern than she feels.

The princess of the moon grins. “And yet here you are. Returning to me, my errant pupil...”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Twilight snaps. “Was that you, acting like Celes—like Princess Celestia? And my wife? Trying to fool me?”

“What interest would I have in fooling you?”

Twilight can’t control herself. “I don’t know!” she shouts, trembling in place.

“I know you don’t, Twilight,” Cheerilee says. “It’s okay. Just focus on me. Stay here.”

A hoof caresses her cheek, and Twilight moans in a strange, disturbing mix of pleasure and confusion. “What’s happening to me?”

“It’ll all be over soon,” Cheerilee whispers. “Just stay with me. Here. This is our place.”

Twilight shifts, rolling to face her beloved. The ancient bed creaks beneath them, echoing in the empty spaces of their bedroom at the Ponyville library. “I’m scared. It’s all so confusing...”

Cheerilee just smiles, and leans forward...

The kiss is wonderful—as if they’ve never kissed before. Cheerilee’s lips move in perfect time with Twilight’s, shaping and conforming to her every impulse; pushing, when she wants to be kissed, and accepting, when she wants to press forward herself. In perfect time their mouths open and let tongue dance across tongue, each moaning into the intimacy.

Automatically, Twilight moves her hooves across Cheerilee, relishing in her hoof rising and falling along her beloved’s curves. The shape was familiar, comforting...intoxicating...

The smell, the taste, the sound of her...was everything Twilight needed.

“More,” Cheerilee whispers, as they pulled their lips apart to take in deep, gasping breaths. “Twilight, stay with me.”

“As if you even have to ask...”

Suddenly everything is new again. Her shape, her form—suddenly, they all smack of the unfamiliar. New territory, untested and unconquered, heady with the mystique of the novel. Cheerilee moans as Twilight buries her muzzle in the elder mare’s neck, gratefully taking a mouthful of her sweet-smelling mane and twisting...

It’s sweet and perfect and triumphant, like that very first time, so many years ago. When she’d claimed, and been claimed, by this mare, who fit her so perfectly...

She can feel a pressure on her head, next to her ear—

“Tell me, Twilight, about...your first time.”

“Mmm...you know about it,” Twilight mumbles. “It was with Rarit—”

The voice is wrong.

Twilight’s eyes snap open, and she stiffens, realizing that she was swaying in delirious pleasure in the middle of Luna’s chambers as the princess prowled the shadows around her.

Luna, retracting from Twilight’s shoulder, looks down at her with eyes glittering in amused delight.

“Not that. I know all about that...you were, after all, trying to impress me with it.”

“How dare y—”

“And I was impressed. You were...admirably assertive,” Luna continues, ignoring Twilight’s indignation. “And admirably focused on the pleasure of somepony else. But—no, Twilight, not that first time.”

Twilight rises to all four hooves, tensing unconsciously. “My first time with Cheerilee, then?”

Luna grins. “No, no, no. Even I respect that it is a memory for you and her alone.”

Twilight rolls over in the bed. “And don’t you forget it!”

“All right, all right! Forgive me for asking!” Celestia says, laughing. “I was just curious if it was as...lighthearted as this is turning out to be.”

Twilight stares.

Celestia is...smaller, like she usually is when she’s being relaxed and informal. Her mane is bedraggled—more importantly, it is in a state where it could be bedraggled, a strikingly short bob of straight, brilliant pink strands, splayed across her face as if somepony had ruffled her mane playfully..

And she’s laughing, delighted, looking at Twilight with open affection, and—

Um.

And the look Cheerilee gives me, right after I make her c—

Twilight blushes furiously.

A hoof falls across Twilight’s side, and Cheerilee’s voice whispers into her ear. “Don’t be rude, Twilight, it’s not like it’s some great secret or anything.”

“It...what? What...?” Twilight babbles, turning to her wife, utterly perplexed.

Cheerilee suddenly looks concerned. “I...Twilight, is it? Oh, heavens, I mean, I’ve talked to Lyra and Bon Bon about it...and Rarity, and Fluttershy...”

“What?!”

Celestia begins laughing, loudly. “What have you gotten yourself into, Cheerilee...?”

“No, no, wait,” Twilight manages. “I guess I don’t...no, it’s not...” She looks from one mare to the other, both smiling at her hopefully.

One mystery at a time, I guess...?

“What’s she doing here?” Twilight asks Cheerilee, indicating Celestia.

The two other mares look to each other.

“Do you...not want me here?” Celestia asks, the barest hint of hesitance tainting her usual serenity like ink in water.

Twilight rolls over, and is shocked to see the princess’ face—one which, while sometimes hurt or sad, is always at least sure of what it feels—looking uneasy.

“No, I—well, it’s not that I don’t, it’s more that...” Twilight manages.

“I can leave, if it would make you more comfortable.”

“No!” Twilight blurts, before clapping a hoof over her mouth.

Celestia gives her a strange little smile of mixed knowing and something like gratitude.

“I mean...stay if you want to, obviously,” Twilight mutters. “This is a dream, after all.”

“Is it?” Cheerilee asks.

There’s something in her tone—something pressing, something desperate—that makes Twilight pause before responding. But it’s not enough to change her answer.

“Yes.”

“Then it’s a good dream,” Cheerilee says, insistently. “I’m happy. Celestia is happy. We just want you to stay here with us.”

Twilight gives Cheerilee a very unique desperate look, trying to convey that she’s a little disturbed to not only have her cake but be in bed with it and Cheerilee at the same time. “It’s not that this isn’t, you know, interesting and all, but—”

And then Celestia bites her ear.

Gently—but that’s the point.

“Sorry, Twi, I told her about that,” Cheerilee says, grinning broadly in a way that is obviously not apologetic in the least.

Twilight can’t say anything, not while teeth are so delectably dancing across the sensitive skin right near the tip—

Cheerilee’s lips meet hers, for a long, breathless kiss.

“Just stay with us,” somepony whispers. Her voice is beautiful, distracting, obsessing, a siren call. Twilight struggles to obey it, but there’s something nagging at her—

“Don’t we have a lot to talk about?”

Luna sniffs. “That’s the trouble with you, I think,” she says, not entirely unkindly—it’s as if she’s speaking about a friend who has a peculiar and specific blindness to a certain aspect of reality. “You trust words. Talking. Blah, blah...blah.”

“What?” Twilight gasps. The sudden absence of hooves grasping her makes her feel more naked than she’s ever been, which is kind of silly, of course, since she’s usually nak—

Focus, Twilight. This is some kind of trick!

“Words, Twilight, words!” Luna says, the research notes leaping up in front of her again. “Diagrams! Shapes! Explanations! Is that all there is for you anymore? Is that all magic is to you?”

“N—no!” Twilight manages.

Suddenly, Luna is looming over her, towering above her. Her dark coat blends into the shadowy chambers, the light blurring around her until she seems like a wave of darkness threatening to drown her. Twilight tries to back away, but there’s nowhere to go, no ground to cover, no place to run—

“I know,” Luna says.

Trembling, terrified, a little filly in the grasp of a being she has no real ability to comprehend quails beneath an all-consuming shadow—

But there is a light in that shadow, lurking up onto Twilight in the dark.

“There are some things I cannot suppress,” the glowing shape whispers. “Forgive me.”

The voice is so familiar, so trustworthy, so intimate—

“Cheerilee?” Twilight asks.

“I’m here,” Cheerilee whispers into Twilight’s ear, giggling at the mistake.

A hoof falls across her, and Twilight is suddenly aware that she is being embraced, tightly, from the side, by a very familiar pair of hooves as they lay on their bed in Canterlot—the bedroom lit only by starlight, gentle and familiar rather than cold and distant.

Her wife’s voice sounds in the darkness, modulated heavily by concern. “Are you alright? We know, this is...a lot. For me, too. And for her...”

Twilight’s gaze moves down...

Celestia, lit by the ethereal glow of her unconquerable power, looks up at her with the same gentle, loving smile Twilight had learned to unreservedly love decades ago.

“Stay with us,” Cheerilee whispers, nuzzling Twilight’s ear.

“This is a dream,” Twilight murmurs—it must be.

“Then I hope it’s a happy one for you,” Celestia says, as she lowers her mouth to kiss the inside of Twilight’s thigh. “Stay and enjoy it with us.”

Twilight closes her eyes. “Yes...”

“I don’t really need you to tell me about it,” Luna murmurs from behind Twilight. “I can tell you.”

Lost in the throes of ecstasy, Twilight can’t possibly care less where she is or who is speaking. All there is are the words, every one true and beautiful. “Then tell me.”

“I can see you, as a filly,” the princess of the moon says, in a silky whisper. “Leaning over stacks of books, just as you do now.”

“Yes. Just like that...”

“You only understood one word in three—these were advanced books, full of long words and complicated diagrams. And you were sure, absolutely sure, that if you could even begin to understand, the world of magic would be open to you.”

“More...”

“And you tried, didn’t you,” Luna says.

“Oh, so hard. My horn ached, every night...”

“But you just couldn’t make the pages move. That was the first test. To make the books obey. They were the first guardians, the first secret.”

Twilight’s eyes slam open. “Yesssss....” She locks Luna in her gaze. “More.”

“Please,” Cheerilee begs, beneath her. “Twilight, be here with me...”

Twilight wraps her hooves around Cheerilee’s neck and thrusts, as she has so many times, but now—

“It wasn’t the words that made the pages move,” Luna says.

“No,” Twilight rasps.

Celestia, panting harder than Twilight has ever imagined, holding her in a smoldering gaze, draws a hoof along her chest—and then down, further, towards that wonderful, private ache...

“I wanted this, so badly,” Twilight moans.

Luna nods, smiling in a knowing sort of way. “You burned for it. It had to happen. It had to.”

A hoof pulls Twilight away from the smirking princess and suddenly, a secret, private wish is being fulfilled, filling her with a bright, brilliant sense of wonder. Celestia kisses her, hard and firm and above all with overwhelming desire; as they pull apart, Twilight breathing hard, their eyes meet and it becomes unnecessary to actually say: It had to.

“You’ve done so much for me, Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia whispers into another kiss. “I want you here, with me. With us. Stay with us.”

As if to reinforce this, the wonder of Celestia’s kiss is suddenly accentuated with the familiar, but unbelievably comforting feeling of Cheerilee reaching around her, stroking her back, whispering loving nonsense into her ear...

“As you wish,” Twilight managed.

Luna nods enthusiastically. “Exactly. In the end, it wasn’t the words that made it happen. In fact, in that moment, what did you say? As that page turned?”

Beneath Twilight, Celestia throws her head back, her mind lost in ecstasy, and as beautiful as she always was, the height of her pleasure made her shine with delight. Twilight feels the princess clench down on the tendril of magical power thrust deep into her—

But no, it’s Cheerilee, not just once but dozens of times, every time Twilight used that fundamental part of herself to make her beloved wife scream with desire, tremble in delight—every time she’d felt the thrill of power, of being submitted to, of Cheerilee not just enjoying but wanting her Twilight to have her, to be her beautiful, powerful lover—

No. That’s wrong.

It’s both of them, wanting her, desiring her, needing her, speaking together, in one voice—

Stay with us.

Especially now. We love you. We want you. We’re all togeth—

“What is it you said, you felt, as you triumphed, that very first time...?”

She’s cold.

Lost, and so, so alone, where just a second ago, the two most wonderful creatures she has known were making love to her—

“Well?” Luna asks, sickly-sweet.

“I...I don’t remember what I said,” Twilight admits, honestly.

Luna gives her a look that said something like well, we can’t all be goddesses I suppose, but you’ll do. “The exact words aren’t really important, anyways. It’s what you felt.”

Suddenly Twilight is seven years old again, and a page has just flipped in front of her.

She’d wanted it, so badly. She’d just...made it happen.

The books had just confused her, scared her—and honestly, made her feel a little stupid. She’d grasped, at some length, a few basic ideas, but that wasn’t enough for her to really understand.

She was sure that if she studied for years, she’d understand a sentence of them, but that was years away and she wanted to be magic now.

So she’d stared at the page, willing it to move. Just...feeling it, holding it in her magical grasp until it felt as much a part of her as her hooves were. Wanting it, so badly. Remembering how beautiful the Princess had seemed in her unbelievable power—and more importantly, in the ease and skill with which she’d wielded it.

This was a filly who had not yet been chosen, who had everything to prove, who didn’t know she was powerful—

And the page had moved.

She’d just...felt the right way to do things, and her mind had caught up with it. In retrospect, it seemed so simple, although if you were to ask her how she’d done it, she wouldn’t be able to explain it in words.

It just was.

Because she wanted it, and she’d made it happen.

The charts and words would come later.

A grown mare’s lips form around the words of a filly.

“I did it.”

Not: I did it.

The it is not, in fact, the thing. It is the I, the she, the her. The Twilight Sparkle.

Luna’s smile grows broad and wide.

“Yes, you did. And in that moment—”

“I still haven’t done half the things I knew I could, that I wanted to, in that moment,” Twilight whispers. She feels a tear growing in one of her eyes. “I’ve never felt that way ever since. Not once.”

The princess raises a hoof to Twilight’s cheek, and despite her mind begging her to move away, she doesn’t; something about the princess’ solemn expression says she’s in safe hooves. “That’s why I hate your charts, Twilight Sparkle, and your words, and your experiments. I don’t deny they teach you a great many things, but...there’s something they can’t give you, if you cling to them. They take the magic out of magic...and the romance out of romance.”

The hoof on her cheek draws away. Twilight suppresses a need to whimper and grab at it, draw it closer to herself—accept it, utterly.

To accept why she kept coming back here, to this frightening place, when such beauty and gentleness awaited her elsewhere.

“Cheerilee is my wife,” she mumbles. “And Celestia is my—well, my best friend. My teacher, my princess...” She trails off, looking for the right words. “They have taught me everything about love. But...”

Now, suddenly, she’s much younger, drunk for almost the first time, at the Winter Ball, alone...and there—cool, powerful, mysterious—is Luna, princess of the moon, standing half in shadow.

Alone...for now.

Luna raises an eyebrow, smirking. “But...it was Luna who taught you about desire.”

Twilight blinks a tear out of her eye. “Yes.”

Here, perhaps, in dreams, she could safely admit this last, terrible secret; the one she had so carefully kept unstated, even to herself.

Not some silly, easy thing like that she still loved Luna, who had abused her trust and toyed with her for months. Not that, never that—she’d never really loved the princess of the moon the way she loved Cheerilee—or Celestia, for that matter. She’d obsessed, and desired, but never loved.

No, it’s worse than that.

It was that only Luna really understood that deep down, Twilight was on fire.

What is love without passion? Study, without drive and ambition? Life, without boldly stepping forward, every moment of every day?

Cheerilee saw it in little bursts and snatches, usually in bed, and loved it in her. Spike and Celestia, too, and the girls in Ponyville, when she was really on a roll doing research or saving the day. Heavens, everyone in Ponyville, now and again...

But Luna had seen it right away, and always saw it, and had tried to nurture it, had wanted it...trying to cultivate, when you got right down to it, nothing less than a kindred spirit.

She’d never said so, even now that they were slowly repairing their friendship and trust. It was conveyed in glances, and in comments, and in little understandings, which came more and more frequently as Twilight got older and Luna grew more at peace with herself. They didn’t need to say anything; they already knew.

It scared Twilight. It was so powerful, so intense, so out of her control...and to make Twilight more like her...

She knew firsthand how cruel Luna could be. How arrogant, how preening, how vain and furious and terrible. She had faced the Nightmare, and then gone one better and endured Luna at what Celestia had privately confessed to be about as capricious and unpredictable as the ever-mercurial princess of the moon had ever been, in all the centuries she’d known her.

But aside from all that...Luna was beautiful in her passion. Powerful, majestic, and utterly, undeniably, irresistibly attractive, personally and...otherwise.

“You already knew the truth, before that first kiss,” the princess says, as solemn now as she ever got with Twilight. “Without desire, without passion, without wanting, there is nothing but dry, boring words describing what is; but with it, everything is magical...because it’s about what could be. And everything that happened made you remember so hard you can never forget, now...”

“Yeah,” Twilight says.

She looks up into Luna’s eyes.

“But you would say that...being me.”

“Haha, you got me!” The seven-year-old Twilight Sparkle in front of her grins, hugely, revealing a missing tooth. “Want to play again?”

“Maybe some other time,” Twilight says, smiling back. “I think there are some ponies waiting on me.”


• • •


Voices:

“She’s coming out of it.”

“What? How? You said she was—”

“Cheerilee, it’s not an exact science.”

“What? Why not?!”

“Possibly because I haven’t had the time over the last thousand years to make it one. Now pray stop complaining, she’ll be conscious soon enough—”

“Too late,” Twilight says.

Besides the weird grey-white blur in front of her, the most immediate sensation is that her throat and jaw are sore—clearly, she’s been sleeping with her mouth open.

Or screaming.

One of the two, anyways, she thinks, as she wiggles her jaw to try to make it less stiff.

This time, her blurry vision blinks away quickly, and Cheerilee’s bright, smiling face makes an immediate and welcome appearance. “Twilight! Oh, Twi, honey—”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Twilight says, rolling to sit up on her rump.

She’s in one of the magical dynamics laboratories in the Academy—a familiar place, after many long hours slaving away at one of the work stations. She is herself lying on the broad surface of the resonance analysis array, and as she looks up at the complicated diagnostic device with its bizarre prism of carefully-cut gems pointing down at her, she is forced to admit it’s much more comfortable to be the researcher than the subject.

Celestia and Cheerilee are standing next to her, both smiling with relief, while a little ways off—

A little ways off, Luna skulks behind the controls, her eyes hidden by a huge pair of smoked lenses for reading the spectral readouts. Even with her eyes covered, her expression betrays a certain amount of irritation.

Her immediate environment more or less nailed down, the recent past starts catching up with Twilight, and her brow furrows.

“I was...I brought in an artifact one of the students found on a dig, out in the desert...”

Luna begins to say something, but Celestia cuts her off with an irritated tch.

“That’s right, Twi. Go on,” Cheerilee says, encouragingly, putting a hoof on one of Twilight’s.

Shapes, motion, colors, all in a blur—

Twilight’s ears prick up. “There was a matrix cascade—”

“I don’t know much about that, but I do know this object cursed you. Like it was meant to do to anypony attempting to manipulate it,” Luna says, striding forward in a rather huffy way, using magic to set the glasses aside and thrust a suddenly-familar engraved cylinder in front of Twilight in one graceful but unquestionably definite motion. “Do you know what this is?”

Twilight looks down to it, and then back up at Luna. “Um...no. Thus, the analysis.”

The object spins, revealing an unmistakable symbol carved deep into the grey stone.

“It’s mine,” Luna says, with a grin.

Despite a new flood of curiosity that Luna had to be deliberately baiting, Twilight knows that was about all she is going to get.

“Right,” she says, grinning helplessly. “I suppose I should have realized.”

“You should be thankful I’m not the only pony who is old enough to remember what a mindlock curse looks like, I suppose,” Luna continues, idly looking over the object as Celestia gave Twilight a look that quietly begged her to indulge her younger sister’s flippant tone. “I had hoped these two could keep your mind occupied long enough for me to safely sever the connection between you and the Oniero—”

She pauses, and grins widely at Twilight’s sudden show of alert attention deflating into grumpy disappointment.

“Ah, you won’t catch me that easily, I’m afraid, Arch-Mage or not,” the princess of the moon says, playfully. “The point is that it seems you weathered the curse with your mind more or less intact despite their apparent inability to keep your attention.” She spares the exciting-looking array currently looming over Twilight a moment’s glance, silently questioning the state of that mind in general.

Twilight nods, more or less because she had nothing to say to that, really.

“This kind of negligence is unlike you, Twilight,” Luna comments, looking her up and down with a little sniff. “I can’t imagine you didn’t think to consult Celestia, if not me.”

Twilight shrugs. “I can’t say you’re wrong.”

“It reflects poorly on you,” the princess adds, in a speculative tone of voice.

“You’re probably right.”

Luna frowns. “Hmm...”

She spares Twilight one last little look—a bit questioning, if Twilight is any judge—and turns to her sister, talking about something else—

You saw something wearing my face, didn’t you, Twilight...?

Cheerilee notices Twilight stiffen, and squeezes her hoof as she clambers up onto the slab beside the now-tense unicorn.

I can see it in the way you look at me, Luna continues.

Twilight sighs, gently, and gives Cheerilee a weary smile.

Yes.

There’s a brief pause as Luna’s eyes—apparently disinterested—flicker back to Twilight’s for the space of a heartbeat.

Nothing too...aggressive, I hope.

‘Healing’ is the word for their relationship.

Privately, Twilight remembers the nervous, awkward princess she’d first met that Nightmare Night all those years ago—the one she’d known before things got...weird. She’d been sad, and lonely, and in retrospect really didn’t know what to do with herself—she just wanted to be Luna, but didn’t know who that was.

Twilight smiles. That pony might never show her face that openly again, but she peeked out from behind the Princess of the Moon from time to time...

She waits until Luna glances towards her again, then:

I thought I was alone with...something. Like a memory of you. But I was just alone with myself.

“I can sympathize with how trying that can be as few others would be able,” Luna says, keeping her eye on Twilight even though this statement was apparently addressed to Celestia.

Twilight just nods, very slightly.

Next to her, party to a conversation she knows is happening but cannot hear, Cheerilee sighs through the tolerant smile of an earth pony forced to endure magical companions for any length of time and rests her head on Twilight’s shoulder.

Luna gives her sister a bright smile and turns to address the room. “Well, now that this is all taken care of, I’d like to return to my rest, if you don’t mind. I’m sure you three have things you’d like to discuss...”

“Indeed,” Celestia says—in a rather prim sort of way, Twilight notices. The sort of statement that’s a gentle shoo out the door.

The younger alicorn raises an amused eyebrow, but merely nods her head graciously. “Sister. Arch-Mage. And Ms. Cheerilee, of course,” she adds, bowing politely despite Cheerilee’s customarily suspicious expression as she returns the greeting.

Luna’s eyes meet Twilight’s for the briefest moment as she turns to leave.

Perhaps we’ll discuss what you experienced someday.

Twilight thinks about it for a moment and feels a faint grin crawl across her face.

Someday.

Luna is already halfway out the door, but she pauses to smile, very slightly, over her shoulder, before vanishing into the corridor.

That leaves Twilight with her wife and her princess.

Celestia is smiling in a patient sort of way that suggests to Twilight, after years of dealing with her, that she knows there’s something to be discussed but is happy to wait until Twilight is good and ready to talk before they do so.

Cheerilee, on the other hand, is—well.

For all that her wife is cuddling her in honest relief, there’s an indescribable sense of young mare march upstairs this very instant to it which Twilight has always found difficult to disobey. Similar thoughts are swirling around Twilight’s mind for more or less the same reason that sometimes when she had racy dreams, she felt the need to act on them when she woke up.

Which asked some entertaining questions about Her Royal Highness, now that Twilight thought about it...

So the real question here, in fact, was:

What do I really, really want, right this very second?

That, though, was pretty easy.

“Coffee.”

Cheerilee’s head leaps from Twilight’s shoulder. “Coffee?”

“Uh huh. Dumb magic stuff has been happening,” Twilight says, gently extracting herself from Cheerilee’s hug and hopping to the floor. “I need coffee.”

She strides forward, walking out into the hallway of the laboratory building without a second thought, smiling a little as she hears a brief susurrus of conversation before two pairs of hoofbeats make polite haste after her.

Cheerilee finally catches up as she reaches the door to the corridor that eventually lead to the entrance hall of the Academy. “I suppose this proves I have my Twilight Sparkle back, anyways,” she mutters.

“Heh, yeah.”

“Still, I...well, between you and me, Twilight...” Cheerilee says, a little anxiously, “don’t you think we have some things we should talk about? And do?” she adds, pointedly.

Twilight gives her a look of complete innocence. “What’s that?”

“You mean you’re not...?”

Internally, Twilight giggles with delighted malevolence. This is a very fun game. “Not what?”

Cheerilee’s entire face seems to fall. “Twi, seriously, I feel like I’m going to chew a leg off here if I don’t get lai—” She stops, suddenly, looking around at all the students gazing in awe at the approaching Arch-Mage and the princess trailing in her wake, and chuckles helplessly.

“Well, I am sorry to hear that, but I fail to see how that’s any fault of mine.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who got cursed—”

Twilight pauses, interrupting the meager flow of traffic through the hall, and turns a hurt look on her fretful wife. “I know. I’m sorry. It was very foolish of me. And I was only halfway through that nice sandwich you were kind enough to make for my lunch...”

“I guess I’ll forgive you, this time,” Cheerilee says. “If you’re good.”

“But you know...” Twilight taps her chin in a show of deep thoughtfulness. “It’s almost sundown, now, and I could swear it was noon when I plugged whatever that was into the aetheric resonance spectrometer...”

Celestia’s little grin grew, very slightly. “Is that odd? Are you saying you didn’t experience the passage that much time, yourself?”

“As if I’d assume a one-to-one time dilation in a mystic projection. This isn’t exactly my first day at the Academy, you know,” the Arch-Mage of Equestria says, primly, tossing her head up in a display of supreme haughtiness that would put Rarity to shame. She holds that pose for a moment before opening an eye, and Twilight, Celestia’s faithful colleague and friend says, “Fifteen minutes or so. A very...interesting...fifteen minutes,” she adds, in a noncommittal tone of voice.

“Ah, I...see,” is all the princess says, her eyes wandering off towards nothing in particular.

This is way too easy, Twilight thinks. Should I really be having this much fun watching both Cheerilee and Celestia squirm a bit?

Answer: yes. Very yes.

Cheerilee frowns. “I’m sure the implications will shatter our understanding of magic and propose a new paradigm for the understanding of something polysyllabic for the rest of time, like you manage to do every other Thursday, but I—”

“I believe what Twilight is saying, Cheerilee, is that she’s aware we experienced more time than she did,” Celestia says, as if commenting on nothing so interesting as the weather. “I suspect she’s curious how we spent it, what with one thing and another...”

Twilight shrugs, grinning.

The princess and Cheerilee look to one another—and smile, it has to be said, a little sheepishly on both parts, which is not an expression Twilight sees on the face of the princess of the sun every day. It’s...cute, actually.

Cheerilee turns a helpless grin on her wife. “We were getting pretty frightened, Twilight. You kept fading away, just as we thought you were engaging with us. We tried to keep you calm, but...”

“It occurred to us that...well, maybe calm was the wrong direction,” the princess continued, serene as ever.

Twilight nods. “I see. Occupying my attention, right.”

“Exactly. Perfectly reasonable.”

“And of course, er, Celestia was the one helping me get in touch with you at all, obviously,” Cheerilee says, squirming in place. “I’m, ah, not magic. Of course. Er.”

“So...?” Twilight says, letting the non-question linger in the air.

“So...er...” Cheerilee looks up at the princess desperately and mouths: help me out here!

Celestia takes a short intake of breath, pursing her lips before speaking eyes narrowing as she considered her statement carefully. “I—well, no, we felt that my...participation wouldn’t be...”

“Yes?” Twilight asks, smiling sweetly.

“I feel that this is not, perhaps, the right place to have this conversation,” Celestia says, smoothly.

Cheerilee turns to Twilight, nodding insistently and glancing meaningfully towards the door.

Twilight smiles as graciously as she can manage. “You’re probably right. And it’s delaying coffee, too, and I won’t have that. So let me just ask: whose idea was it?”

Two hooves—one white, shod in gold, and the other bare maroon—snap through the air.

“Hers,” Cheerilee and Celestia say, in one voice.

It is one voice.

Is Luna Celestia’s sister, or is Cheerilee...? And is that a weird question to ask right now?

They look to each other, frowning slightly for just long enough for them to find it absurd and break into helpless grins.

“Well,” Twilight says, her smile growing wry. “That clears that up, I suppose.”

“We were just worried about you, Twilight,” Cheerilee burbles.

“Mmm. So you said.”

Celestia nods sagely. “It was a bit of a crisis moment—”

“No, no, I get it. Completely reasonable. No need to explain.” Twilight looks up at the two of them, feeling boldness swelling in her chest.

Wait wait wait. Am I...am I doing Saucy Look Number Two? To Cheerilee and the princess?

And...is it working?

The princess raises an eyebrow, in a way that makes Twilight think Her Royal Highness didn’t realize she was doing so—something all but unheard of.

I think it is.

Something in her rebels at the thoughts—memory and speculation both—that were now speeding through her mind, but Twilight ignores them, remembering those long nights when she and Celestia and Cheerilee had first opened up to each other. She’d laid back, trying to explain how she felt, and said:

In the end, Twilight, when I lie down and close my eyes at night, even I can’t escape feeling alone, small in a huge world...I’m just one pony. Just like you. The differences only make the similarities more...important.

And how many times had she proven to be just like us little ponies over the years? Even if only to her two best friends, most of the time...? Not least of all in that she’d been the one they went to for marriage counseling—having been married herself what, twenty times now?

It’s not like the princess seems terribly offended—and after all, part of the risk diving into somepony else’s mind like they’d just done is that you expose yourself, as well.

She’s still the princess, though.

A thought occurs. Celestia never did anything by accident, if she could help it.

A grin moves across Twilight’s features.

They brought this on themselves.

Deep down, the fire burns hot.

She rises to her hooves, smiling faintly, and steps forward with deliberate lightness and as much grace as she can muster. Her wife and her princess watch her carefully.

“Thank you. Both of you,” she adds, piercing Celestia with a glance. “For...everything.”

“It was no trouble,” Celestia says, even as ever—but her eyes didn’t move from Twilight’s for even an instant. “I’m sure you would have done the same in my place...”

“Mmmmm.”

Next to the princess, Cheerilee whimpers a bit, growing more urgent as Twilight’s wordless expression of...yes, satisfaction lingers. It’s a sound the younger mare knows quite well, and is always eager to hear more of.

Still, Twilight is forced to admit that as fun as this is, it’s beginning to resemble torture.

Is this really...seduction? I’m just being honest.

But...fair enough, being honest in a sort of...suggestive tone of voice that could turn a weather report into a pressing invitation. She’s only heard it on the tongues of Rarity and Luna, before, but—

She blinks.

No—no. That’s not quite right.

I’ve been like this before, haven’t I?

This is the part of Twilight Sparkle that made Rarity indulge her curiosity, and had made Dash overcome her insecurity and dive in. She’s made monsters bow to her, and made Cheerilee beg for more, as fire like the heart of a star blazed in Twilight’s soul.

This was the part of Twilight Sparkle that made a page turn.

And yes, it’s the part that made me be stupid because of Luna, but...still.

I don’t have to be afraid of it—as long as I’m aware of it. In control.

After all...it’s not asking me to do anything I don’t want to—which can be a problem, I guess.

But not at the moment, I think.

Heh.

She gives her poor victims one last, lingering smile, and turns away slowly, sauntering towards the huge doors to the campus grounds in an expert way that would have stunned Rarity to see in bookish Twilight Sparkle. She can almost feel Cheerilee’s hungry gaze as she doesn’t quite catch up.

“I’ll see you two when you’re more...sated, then,” the princess says, behind them. “Some...coffee sounds very pleasant to me, too, just now...”

Twilight is tempted to roll her eyes—euphemisms, especially sexual ones, always sound awkward and obvious when Celestia tries to use them, too much like direct lies for the princess to be entirely comfortable. She was the soul of honesty and discretion, and right here is where those two aspects of herself ran into each other headlong.

Let’s just be straightforward, in our minds if nowhere else, and admit that when your brain’s been having sex for hours your body is going to want to join in one way or another, eh? Just between us mares.

She pauses, and glances over her shoulder, sultry look turned all the way up to eleven. “I’m sure there’s more than enough room for you at the tower...if you’d care to join us.”

It’s a purr, more than a spoken word. Anypony else would have just melted on the spot; Cheerilee certainly struggles not to. But this is the princess, for whom nobility and composure were first nature, so—

One of Celestia’s ears flaps—just once.

Twilight has to fight hard not to let a smug smile spread across her face.

Well, that more or less settles that.

But...teasing is one thing, being honest is another.

Because she is, deep down, honest and loving, and because nopony knows that better than her that want and need are very different things, even though they look alike, Twilight adds: “Only if you’d be comfortable, of course. I know you’re particular about the, ah...the company you keep.”

There’s a brief moment of hesitation, which seems sort of heavy—a familiar sensation for Twilight. She feels like this is a moment where the universe is really paying attention, to see which direction it’s going in.

Celestia looks away for a moment, pursing her lips pensively. When she returns her gaze to Twilight and Cheerilee, it’s as calm as a storm looming on the horizon—quiet now, but give it time to really get in gear...

“It felt a bit rude to just invite myself along, you’re quite right,” she says, grinning. “But since you asked so nicely...”


• • •


Her mother had a word for this, back when she was a filly. Something aggressively cutesy.

What was it?

Oh, right.

“Canoodling,” Twilight murmurs, smiling vaguely.

Celestia pauses mid-sip from a mugful of coffee, her ears pricking up in alarm. “Hmm? What’s that?”

Her head resting against Celestia’s side, Twilight swirls the dregs of her own mug, watching it swill around the bottom, its rhythmic orbit affected in an interesting way as the rise and fall of the princess’ body changed the angle of the bottom of the cup—

When did you get so boring, Twilight Sparkle?

She chuckles, a bit ruefully. Honestly, she can’t even focus on this?

“Canoodling. What we’ve been doing.”

“Was it?”

“Mmhmm.”

Twilight looks up at Celestia, who is giving her a very knowing smile indeed.

“Well, you learn something new every day, they say. Several things, if you’re very lucky...” The princess takes in a deep breath, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “Sounds...zebra, to me. Something you picked up from Zecora, I take it?”

A half-hearted grunt attracts their attention to the other side of the bed, where Cheerilee is staring straight up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, her features spread in a grin so lazy it was probably set that way. “Mmm. Nah. ’S one of the goofy words her mom made up when she was a filly, I bet,” she manages. “Like ’muzzy’ and ’floop-de-doo’.”

“Oh, Cheerilee, thank goodness,” Celestia says, evenly. “I thought we’d lost you.”

“What?”

The princess clears her throat. “’Oh heavens, oh heavens, I’m dying,’” she recites, in a startlingly accurate copy of Cheerilee’s breathless moans. “’Do I really get to go to the place for good little fillies before I’ve even kicked the bucket...’”

“Because you’re at your most eloquent dans la boudoir,” Cheerilee grumbles, slathering the fancy with as much sarcasm as possible, which considering it was her speaking was quite a bit.

“I’m merely expressing honest concern. If you’re so stressed after only a few hours, perhaps you need some more regular exercise.”

“Oh, nice. That’s really cute coming from only one in the room for whom breathing is more or less optional.”

Celestia draws up, a hoof leaping to her chest as if she were tremendously insulted. “I happen to like breathing. I find it very relaxing.”

Cheerilee just grunts.

“Don’t be mean,” Twilight says, giving her wife a weak little kick in the butt. “It’s cute. And so was my mom.”

“Whatever you say, beloved.”

The princess nods. “Canoodling. Mmm. I like it.”

Cheerilee rolls her head over and gives Celestia a look. “Don’t you take her side.”

Celestia just shrugs, although her broad smile widens even further as Cheerilee blows a raspberry at her.

Twilight swallows the very last of her rapidly-cooling coffee and sets the mug on a bedside table, next to a long-since discarded crown. “Mom always used to tell Shining not to think about canoodling when he and Cadence were watching me—you know, when I was too young to be home alone after classes? She didn’t want him to give off the wrong impression.”

The princess narrowed her eyes. “Prudent, as she always was. But knowing Mi Amore Cadenza as I do...” She tilts her head curiously. “Presumably she wanted Cadence to like him. That’s what I thought, anyways—”

“Mmm, well, you remember that day when I showed up asking a lot of really specific questions?”

Celestia’s eyebrows raise. “Ah, yes, I do. I suppose for all his sterling qualities, he’s never been very good at taking advice. Not even mine—I have to give him orders, it’s so embarrassing...”

“And someone’s a bit of a light sleeper, you know,” Cheerilee mutters. “When she bothers to sleep at all.”

“Indeed. Curious, too,” Celestia says, raising an eyebrow at the unicorn in question. “Insatiably so, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Oh, definitely.”

Twilight settles back down against Celestia, humming happily and closing her eyes. “Any and all complaints can be submitted, in writing, to the Arch-Mage’s inbox at the Academy. I promise I’ll only use them to get the fire in my office started if it’s really cold out.”

Celestia clicks her tongue. “A model of administrative efficiency.”

“Very generous!” Cheerilee adds, chuckling.

Twilight takes a deep breath and lets them get on with it. Sometimes the two of them just needed to indulge themselves in complicated and lengthy exercises in the art of conversation. They took such pleasure in saying things cleverly...

Letting the animated back-and-forth fall into a sort of dull, pleasant background of white noise, Twilight let her mind drift. The rhythmic rise and fall of Celestia’s body was like a tide drawing her out into a sea of contented, gentle relaxation.

So.

That had all been very...

Hmm.

Words weren’t coming to her. Maybe the other two, busily discussing the possible etymology of Twilight’s mother’s silly little words, were taking all of them up.

Uhhh...nice? I guess?

Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Fluttershy...

It was...different than she had expected.

Er...not that I’d really—expected to be here, but, er—

There is a momentary squall in her sea of contentment as she navigated the choppy waters of admitting, in the privacy of her head, that this had sort of always been there as something that, er, she wouldn’t exactly say no to in a hurry if it seemed like it was going to happen.

A distant memory struggles to the surface, splashing for attention.

The very first time she’d really let herself fantasize, all those years ago...these two had been there. Prominently.

Luna had been, too—of course she had been, at the time. But as much as the dark, alluring princess of the moon, it had been a white hoof and fluffy pink curls that had been pushing her to the edge until her untimely interruption by a certain young dragon.

So, yes, let’s just...let that be the case.

They were the most important ponies in her life, after all, and that was a competitive category if ever there was one. Her mentor/role model/best friend/colleague/lover—

Her ears pricked to attention automatically.

That is going to take some getting used to.

As if she’d heard this, Celestia adjusted herself very slightly so that she was even more comfortable as a huge, hyperintelligent, demigoddess-empowered throw pillow.

Let’s just pare this down to the essentials, shall we?

Her best friend, and her wife.

Twilight’s eyes slowly meander their way over to Cheerilee, who’s sitting up now, chatting animatedly with the princess about something so derivative of their original topic it may as well have been random. The earth pony’s ears prick up, suddenly aware of the attention, and she spares Twilight a huge grin.

Once upon a time, she would have been pretty wound up about something like this. But...

Celestia was her friend, too, after all. They were close—too close, it seemed sometimes, when the two of them could read each others’ minds and hassle Twilight into doing something she didn’t really want to without skipping a beat, or something like that.

What was I expecting, anyways?

...solemnity. Gravity. A sense of...hugeness, being overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all, of being with her, with both of them...

In retrospect...when did you get so boring, Twilight Sparkle?

After all, Cheerilee long ago taught you one of the most important things about sex: it’s probably a good sign that things are going right if everypony’s laughing and smiling.

Physical pleasure is pretty easy—Twilight knew that very well at this point. But the pleasure of seeing Celestia smile—not at her, or Cheerilee, or at anything in particular, just smile because she was here, with two ponies she cares about, and she was happy, she felt good and safe and loved and was having fun, pleasuring and being pleasured in turn...

And next to her, Cheerilee making some kind of sarcastic comment, and Twilight’s laughing so hard she can’t concentrate...

Not that, you know, the physical stuff was, you know, bad, or anything, but...

It was...nice.

Better, in fact, than she expected—but exactly what she wanted.

“Twi?”

The sound doesn’t register, at first, until a hoof gently touching her chest startles her out of her happy reverie.

“Huh!? What—”

Cheerilee gives her a wry look—but there’s a little concern hidden in it, too, peeking around the corners. “We thought we were losing you again for a second there, hon.”

Twilight blinks a few times, scrambling upright so she’s sitting more upright. “What? Oh...no, I was—er. Just thinking.” She glances up at Celestia, whose pleasant smile is as calming now as it has always been. “It’s been a busy day.”

“Pleasantly so, I should think. Or hope, perhaps, might be the better word,” the princess says, with a serene little nod.

Twilight almost laughs at the sudden, absurd awareness of what was hidden in Celestia’s words. Insecurity? From her? About this!?

“If there’s a word to correct in that sentence, it’s ’pleasantly’.” Twi reaches behind herself, awkwardly, with a hoof and just taps the princess’ shoulder in play-chastisement. “Understatement, you know?”

Celestia’s smile warms. “Forgive my lapse. Is there something in particular on your mind?”

Twilight opens her mouth to speak—then her eyes, staring at the back of the door, find the source of a lot of recent anxiety. It felt good to finally point hoof at the culprit, after all this stress.

“That,” she says, pointing at the brilliant white cloak of the Arch-Mage of Equestria.

It’s a spectacular garment. Hoof-made, of course—commissioned by Her Royal Highness herself from nopony less than Lady Rarity of Ponyville to replace its predecessor, made for older and more...sizable ponies, such that a unicorn as petite and slight as Twilight Sparkle could have used it as a blanket if she’d been able to stand the smell. Made from the finest fabrics Zecora had been able to get from her native lands, its edges delicately embroidered in silk thread magically interwoven with gold...

Far too fancy for somepony like Twilight Sparkle, for whom practicality was the very first and basically only measure of quality in a garment.

But she isn’t just Twilight Sparkle, anymore...

“I suspect you didn’t give me that cloak so it could hang on a peg behind my door while I stood around in a labcoat day in and day out,” Twilight says, matter-of-factly.

The princess sighs, a bit wearily. “I didn’t give it to you, Twilight. You earned it, many times over.”

“Maybe so, sure. But, er...I think I’m beginning to see it’s the sort of thing I have to...keep on earning.” Twilight leans up so she and the princess can share a long moment. “You know?”

Their eyes flicker over to the crown sitting—almost forgotten—on the bedside table.

“I believe I do,” says Her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia, lady of this castle.

Then the moment is over, and Celestia smiles, a bit knowingly. Twilight knows that her friend now understands quite well why she’d been so—and this was the key word—careless in dealing with whatever that artifact had been. “Feeling a little restless, are we? Stuck in a rut, as the earth ponies say?”

Twilight rolls her eyes. “Well, maybe not quite so restless as I was this morning, but...”

“Wait,” Cheerilee says, frowning in a playfully exaggerated way. “Wait, wait, wait. Am I the rut in this situation? Hmmm?”

Celestia shushes her. “Shh. Twilight’s having a moment. A character moment.”

“That’s easy for you to say. She didn’t just call you a rut—”

“Cheerilee, please,” Twilight says, her voice strained by a sudden stab of guilt. “You know that’s not what I meant. Don’t even joke.” Feeling foolish for being this cliché, she sighs and begins to say: “It’s not you. It’s—”

Her wife just waves a hoof irritably. “I get it, I get it. Don’t even finish that phrase or my brain will leak out of my ears. Still, though...what do you have in mind?”

Twilight rises to her hooves, hopping off the bed, so she can touch the cloak—it’s as clean and smooth as the day it had first been slung around her shoulders. Barely worn, ever, and when she had worn it she’d meticulously avoided letting it be damaged or stained in any way.

The page turns...

A seven year old Twilight Sparkle’s eyes go wide with delight, and suddenly her mind is overwhelmed with images, hopes, dreams, ambitions—things she wants to do, and see, and experience...things she wants to share with everypony...

Battles with monsters. Solving problems. Saving the day. Teaching young ponies to be as amazed, as hopeful, as joyous as she feels right now, in this moment, as she triumphs.

“I don’t...remember,” Twilight says, staring at the cloak. “Not all of it, anyways...”

Behind her, Celestia and Cheerilee share an amused, yet puzzled look—but it’s fine if they don’t understand right now.

They will, someday.

“I’ve studied magic—a lot of magic,” Twilight says, suddenly conscious of just how much that had been now that she thought about it all at once. “But...”

She turns back to them, smiling hugely. Her chest feels like it’s going to burst with excitement.

“I’ve studied magic, but I don’t know if I’ve made the world a more magical place, if you see what I mean,” Twilight says. “Maybe I want to think about that.”

Cheerilee smiles—a little sarcastically, yes, taking some amusement in Twilight’s tendency towards grandiose statements—but with open and overwhelming affection. Next to her, Celestia’s eyes beam with pride.

“But that’s going to take some time. For now...” Twilight sighs, smiling. “For now, I think I need some rest.”

“It has been a long day, hasn’t it,” Cheerilee says, yawning a bit theatrically.

Celestia just smiles and shifts her position a bit to make room for Twilight between them.

Twilight snuggles in between the two and throws her head back against the pillow, ignoring for a moment that it’s still a bit damp with sweat.

Two pairs of hooves loop over her, and she smiles.

“No matter where you end up going with this...” Cheerilee whispers, tapping Twi’s chest—her heart. “Stay with us.”

On the other side, Celestia just squeezes her gently.

Twilight grunts an amused little laugh.

“Oh, no,” she murmurs. “You two keep up.”