"Don't do this!" Twilight bows down, gripping Cheerilee's foreleg. Shamelessly begging. "Please don't do this! I'm so, so sorry!" Her voice cracks, croaking out her pleas. "I love you. I love you so much. You have to believe me!"

Cheerilee tries to pull her hoof away, tugging at Twilight's grip. Twilight holds on for dear life.

"You're not making this easy." Cheerilee's lip quivers.

"Please... Please!" Twilight begs. Cheerilee keeps pulling her hooves, yanking at Twilight's grip.

"You're hurting me." Cheerilee looks down at her hoof.

You're hurting her.

I... but... I love her.

Stop hurting her.

Twilight lets go.

She freezes, the warm wetness of tears sliding down her face yet again. She stares up at Cheerilee.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly. "It's all my fault. I pushed you away. I was scared, maybe. I'm not sure. I wasn't sure." She bows her head, resting her chin on the front step. She closes her eyes. Defeated. "You should go. I don't want to hurt you anymore."

Twilight rests there, hiding in the darkness of her closed eyes. Seconds pass. She hopes, dimly, that Cheerilee will just walk away.

She does.

* * *

Twilight opens the door before her. It sticks, just a little, catching on a raised bit of the stone floor. Like it always has. She budges it open with an effortless surge of her horn, still levitating her bags just over her shoulder.

A servant lags behind, fidgeting uncomfortably.

"Um... Miss? Are you sure I can't get any of that for you?" he asks. Again.

She rolls her eyes, knowing he can't see it. "No, thank you. I've got it," she says, very politely.

And if you ask one more time, I'll...

What? Do what, exactly? Cut it out, he's just doing his job.

Stupid Canterlot suck-ups.

She cuts off that thought, silently groaning at her own self.

"Uh," the servant croaks out, his voice cracking with anxious terror. "Welcome to the Palace Quarters, a proper resting place for proper ponies," he begins, shakily reciting from memory. "We hope you enjoy your stay in our –"

Twilight ignores him. She could probably recite the spiel herself, and do a better job at it than this poor acne-ridden colt. She trots her way inside, gently placing her luggage on the floor.

"These halls and towers are home to Canterlot's government ministers and palace officials, as well as providing lodging for... uh... lodging for..."

Twilight's head sinks, and she narrows her eyes just a little.

Visiting dignitaries. Visiting dignitaries!

"Uh... um..." The servant glances around, chewing on his lip. "Various ministers."

She turns to him, looking far more nonplussed than she means to.

"If you have any need for assistance or requests for –"

"I know," she cuts him off. He cringes just a little, a light sheen of sweat visible on his forehead. Twilight instantly feels bad for him. He gulps loudly and raises a hoof, as if to display the contents of the room.

"Here we have our standard size –"

"It's okay." Twilight cuts him off again, but not annoyed this time. Trying to put him at ease. "It's my old room. I think I can figure it out."

He stares back at her, caught in headlights.

"You can probably save the standard speech for the visiting dignitaries," she adds.

He starts to hang his mouth open, but catches himself. "The Princess sends her apologies for not personally escorting you to your room. Unfortunately, she is currently setting the sun."

I know, I was just there, she just said that.

She doesn't show even a tiny bit of her exasperation. "Thank you," she says with a nod, trying to mimic the graciousness of her mentor. She starts to turn around.

"We offer a wake-up call and various other –"

"Thank you," she interrupts again. Much less graciously this time. The servant jolts, bows, and finally, finally leaves.

The door clicks shut. Twilight lets out a loud sigh of relief. She is alone.

He must be new. Or...

Or what? What am I even saying?

I'm the one that's been gone.

But it's nothing big, it's just my room.

Is it?

She stands in place, looking around. It is her room, of course.

Was?

Almost one entire wall is windows, open to the sky, like every other room in Canterlot. City of towers. There are boxes here and there, some empty, others only half so. She's had her things sent to Ponyville piecemeal, as she needed them – a set of books here, a bit of clothing there. Nothing important is left. None of it catches her eye.

She trudges over to the windows. Tall, open arches, still marked on the sills where she used to attach telescopes and barometers and astrolabes. They're empty now, bare and open. She sits, not even noticing the heavy sigh as she settles down.

The sun is being set, inching towards the horizon. She watches it, as she has many, many times before. The sky is just starting to light up, fading to hues of red and gold before her eyes. It's beautiful. It always has been.

Empty.

The spot next to her. On the floor. Cold and empty, a palpable void in the corner of her eye. Twilight tries very hard to ignore it.

She would've loved this. She loves the city.

Twilight fails. She groans aloud at herself.

Why didn't I ever take her here? Why didn't we ever go on a trip together?

Stop it. Stop right now.

She would be right here, watching this. She'd say how lovely it is, and then maybe she would rest her head on my shoulder and...

Stop stop stop. Stop it.

Maybe then she would still love

STOP.

She feels her own frown, foreign and uncontrolled. It takes over, choking her breath. She knows by now that sobbing is coming next, but she fights it back.

You can do this. You can do this. Keep it together.

She does. She's stronger, hardened by Luna's rejection. It feels so long ago now. There had been a few hysterics, of course, but they were quieter. A little more dignified. Even if this one hurt a little more.

Oh, who am I kidding? A little more?

She lets out a rueful, mocking snort. There's a strange kind of ache, not sharp. Like having your breath knocked out. As if there was nothing left in her chest.

She drops her chin to the cold stone of the windowsill, glumly looking out at all the heavenly beauty above. It's dazzling – the whole sky is burning a dull red, dappled over ripples of clouds. A perfect sunset. Her own private show.

I can't believe she's not here right now.

Twilight pouts at nothing, feeling pathetic for it. For all of it.

It's pathetic that you aren't crying more. You went nuts over Luna, for pony's sake.

Ignored. Ignored, all of it. She's getting better at it, but the constant battle to keep her thoughts in check has made the past few days a blur. She remembers, barely but fondly, her friends checking in on her. Offering condolences. Trying so desperately to cheer her up.

It all slipped by. She's stuck, frozen in stasis, hunkered down. Everything else zips by all the faster. Even a slow, somber, perfect sunset seems over in seconds.

She blinks a few times. Her chin is sore. Her neck is stiff. The sky has gone cold and pale. The sun blinks one last ray over the horizon and disappears.

It's dark. Dark and cold and alone and you had her, you had everything and you were so stupid and you threw it all away for nothing.

Of course it hurts more this time. It was all my fault.

You hurt her.

My fault.

She covers her eyes with her forelegs, hiding under them.

Why did I do that? What was I thinking?

Someone quietly knocks on her door. Twilight bolts upright, hurriedly wiping at her eyes. "It's open," she says. She knows who it is.

The door opens, and light itself walks in. The Princess –

The good Princess.

Celestia enters, and the whole room changes around her, bright and warm. Not the harsh light of noon, but the subtle glow of dusk. Left over, perhaps. The door closes behind her on its own, and she waits just inside.

Twilight stares at the smooth, white stone of the floor.

I probably look like I've been crying.

It's silly, but she can't bring herself to look up.

"You look like you were watching my work," Celestia says.

Twilight can hear her smile. She sniffs once and returns a weak one of her own, forcing her eyes up. Forcing some kind of normal.

"Heh... yes, I was, actually. It was nicer than usual tonight," she says.

"Thank you, Twilight." The Princess joins her at the window, almost whispering her next words. Like a secret just for them. "I put a little more... hmm... oomph into it this time. I thought you might like it."

"Oomph?" Twilight can't help her eyebrow raising.

"A technical term. I believe I first heard it from you. Or one of your friends, perhaps."

Twilight almost misses the playful smile. Her brain had just caught up to the words surrounding oomph, prompting a temporary mental shutdown – standard procedure in the case of special attention from the Princess.

"But mostly I'm just happy to have you here. It showed, perhaps," Celestia continues.

"Thank you." Twilight averts another shutdown by clinging to manners. "For having me."

"My pleasure," the Princess says instantly. "I think it really will be good for you to have some time away. For yourself."

Twilight just sighs in reply, looking out over the lights of Canterlot below.

Away. By myself.

She reaches out, resting a lonely hoof on the stone ledge of the window.

"Please do not think you must stay on my account, though. If you want to go home, I understand," Celestia adds.

"No, you're right," Twilight says. "It's nice to be back. Maybe it's nice to be on my own again, too."

"You're not alone, Twilight. Although I imagine I don't need to tell you that. I'm sure your friends have been making that abundantly clear recently."

Twilight snorts, happily.

"Speaking of which," The Princess says. "I must say I'm quite surprised. None of them could accompany you?"

"Well," Twilight smiles, only a little embarrassed. She's almost proud, somehow.

I mean, I love them. But I'm an adult, right? I don't need to be led around by the hoof all the time.

"I didn't invite them," she says. "I mean, I didn't really pass on your invitation."

"Oh?" Celestia looks genuinely surprised.

"I don't know. Like you said, some time for myself," Twilight goes on. "Besides, they all have their own things going on. I don't need everypony to drop everything on my account."

"They did drop everything," Celestia says with a bemused smile.

"Of course they did." Twilight happily rolls her eyes. "Rarity was the worst. Er... best? She kept closing her store to spend time with me. If I hadn't taken off, she might have gone out of business."

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Celestia says. "She only wanted to be there for you."

"No, you're right. But it was... I don't know. Too much. She brought over a whole carton of ice cream one night."

Twilight waits a bit, so that can sink in. Celestia just stares blankly back at her.

"I've never seen her eat so much. It was crazy," Twilight rambles on, talking more to herself. She adopts a mockery of Rarity's tone, sticking her nose up in the air. "Apparently, us ladies are only occasionally allowed such indulgences."

"Allowed by whom, I should wonder." Celestia smirks. "You're very lucky, Twilight."

"I know," Twilight says, deflating a little. "They wanted to help me so much, and I appreciate it, I really do, but..." she trails off, lacking words for her feelings. She looks up to her mentor and is surprised to see the alicorn staring out through the window, off into the distance.

"Sometimes I think about leaving," Celestia says. "Just... leaving."

Twilight shakes her head, not sure if she heard that right.

"It's more for them than it is for me," the Princess goes on. "The palace, the servants, the finery. All of it. The ponies need their Princess." She turns back from the window, showing Twilight an all-knowing smile. "I'll never leave, of course. I must always be here for my ponies."

Twilight stares at her in complete puzzlement, a million questions frozen on her lips.

"I trust that Spike is being looked after?" the Princess asks, not missing a beat.

"Huh? Oh, of course. He's staying with the Apple family."

"A perfect choice. Apple Bloom is about his age, is she not? I'm sure he's happy to have time with friends his own age."

"Actually, he's probably working the farm with them."

Celestia makes a bemused pout.

"What? It'll be good for him," Twilight says.

"Perhaps," Celestia says, looking very amused.

"Better than the past few months," Twilight groans. "I used to have Cheerilee keep an eye on him when I needed some time, and he was getting really spoiled. He'd always talk about how much fun they had. And then I would have to be the one to make him do chores again, and he would moan and groan and grumble."

"So, you felt you had become the taskmaster?" Celestia raises an eyebrow, still smirking.

"No, that's not true." Twilight sighs. "She actually helped out with chores all the time. But she would... I don't know, trick him. Make him think he was having fun." She can feel herself getting choked up, just a little. Powerless to stop. "She was... she was really good with him."

Twilight bows her head, closing her eyes to her own feelings. She knows that it's silly, but she can't bear the thought of breaking down in front of the Princess. But then she feels a royal foreleg drape gently over her shoulders, and everything inside her is suddenly peace and light and warmth.

She looks up, too scared to acknowledge her mentor's touch, but too reinforced by it to move away. They both stare out into the sky, watching the stars come into view one by one.

"I know your pain," Celestia says. "Enough to know that these words will seem meaningless. But it does pass."

Twilight smirks, a dry, half-flanked smile. As if anything could sound meaningless coming from the Princess.

"You're not angry at her, are you?" Celestia asks.

"What? No!" Twilight says instantly. "Why would I be mad at her?"

"I'm glad." Celestia takes her arm away, but Twilight still feels like she's being embraced – warm and close, like a wing hovering just inches away from blanketing her.

"It was my fault. I'm mad at me. It's just..." Twilight starts to go on, but loses her way. There are strange feelings roaming free, attached in ways she can't untangle. She takes a deep breath.

"Yes?" Celestia asks.

"Why did she leave me?" Twilight looks up, to the Princess. "I love her. I still do. And I would've made it up to her, I know it. I could have made her happy, and we would've been happy, together, and..."

"I don't know, Twilight. I'm sorry." The Princess puts her arm around Twilight again.

Twilight sighs and relaxes into it, barely seeing through tears she hadn't realized were welling up.

"Not even I can see the heart and mind of another," Celestia goes on. "But I know that she isn't a bad pony. I'm sure she was only doing what she thought was right."

"You're right." Twilight sniffs. "You're right. She didn't do anything wrong."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

Twilight squints at her, her tears forgotten.

"Quite foolish, to spurn the love of Twilight Sparkle. I don't think she fully realized what she was turning down."

Twilight's jaw drops, and she gawks heedlessly at the alicorn. Celestia lets her squirm for a moment, adding a wink for good measure. Then she takes her arm away, tousling Twilight's mane a little as it leaves.

Twilight pulls herself together. It's strange, how a mere word or touch from the Princess can pull her straight out of the darkest sadness she's ever known. At the same time, she's quaking with nervousness, completely unsettled.

She's never held me like that before.

Sure, they had come to share warm greetings, even a nuzzle occasionally. But Twilight had always felt beneath her somehow – at a distance. She never would have thought to call the Princess her friend. Mentor, teacher, guiding light, maybe.

But she's treating me like a friend.

The Princess sits calmly before her, letting silence sit comfortably between them. Twilight wipes at her nose with a hoof. Her nervousness has morphed into cautious excitement, eagerness to try out this new arrangement.

"You said you knew my pain," Twilight asks, without fear.

"All beings do, I think. In one way or another."

"You had someone?"

"I've had several someones, over the years."

So it is true.

Twilight has to remind herself that it really is okay to ask these kinds of questions.

It seems... okay. She seems okay with it.

"When was the last one? I've never heard of you..." Twilight starts to ask, not sure how to put it.

"A very long time ago." Celestia solemnly closes her eyes. "Nopony alive now would know."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Celestia opens her eyes, staring down at Twilight with a somber smile.

No need to be sorry. But thank you all the same.

Twilight gets the weird urge to put her arm around the Princess, but it's impossible in so many ways.

"The pain will pass, and your life will be the more full for it," Celestia says. "It always does. Trust me. I've outlived every romance I've ever known."

Of course I trust you.

Of course I do, but it hurts so much. How...?

"How do you do it?" Twilight asks.

"Well, there aren't many other immortal beings out there, Twilight," Celestia says with a sly grin.

"No, I... you know what I meant."

"I do." Still that playful smile. "Or perhaps I don't. How could I not do it?"

"Why would you? I mean, if it always leads to... this."

"That's a very silly way of looking at it. But very common, sadly." Celestia shakes her head. "One may as well never breathe for fear of choking."

Twilight raises a hoof to speak, despite having nothing ready to say. Celestia gives her a moment, raising her eyebrows.

I... well... huh. Say something!

Nothing comes.

"You understand, even if you haven't realized it yet," the Princess goes on. "Having known love, you feel as if you can't live without it."

Twilight cringes slightly.

Are you sure you can't read minds?

"You're right. I feel like I can't live without her." Twilight startles at herself, jumping to recover her words. "I mean...! Not like, you know, like that." She anxiously taps her front hooves together. "It's just... everything was so wonderful, and now it's so awful."

"You'll find it again," Celestia says. "I'm sure you'll make some lucky mare very happy one day."

"I want to make her happy some day," Twilight says, almost sulking. "It'll never be the same."

"Of course not. That's what makes it special every time."

Celestia smiles down at her, and Twilight feels well and truly small, tiny, dwarfed by things she's only barely begun to understand.

"Come now." Celestia walks away suddenly, leaving Twilight at the window, pondering. "I brought you here so that I might cheer you up. I don't think I'm doing a very good job so far."

"No, I do feel better. It's not your fault." Twilight puts a hoof to her chin. "Should I not be talking about her so much? Should I try not to think about her? Would that help?"

"Those things are unavoidable, really." The Princess paws at the bare stones of the floor with a hoof. Twilight can see the lighter stone where a throw rug used to be. Almost shrugging, Celestia climbs lightly onto the bed, like she weighs nothing, and settles down into the blankets. "But that doesn't mean I shouldn't try to change the subject. When appropriate."

She pats the blanket across from her, and Twilight's heart tries to escape out her throat when she realizes she's being beckoned.

Well, where else would we sit?

Indeed, the room is fairly bare. Twilight cautiously joins her, somehow only a little terrified as she climbs onto her old bed. It's a simple thing, done up with extravagant, plush blankets by the palace staff in her absence.

She sits across from her ruler, folding her forelegs underneath herself. They're close, almost crowded. Twilight feels like they should have curlers in their manes.

And then we can make s'mores. That part came after the makeovers, right?

"Well then," Celestia says, looking around the room. "I must say, I'm quite surprised to see some of your things still here."

"I know," Twilight says, making a quick glance at the dusty boxes scattered around the floor. "I don't even know what's in these."

"Would you mind if we found out?" Celestia's horn lights up, wrapping one of the boxes in golden light.

"Sure. I mean, no. I don't mind."

The box floats over, landing on the bed between them. Twilight's curiosity has swung into full force, and she peers down at the box like it's some new and interesting scientific phenomena.

"I think you should open it," Celestia says.

"Oh?" She furrows her brow, about to light up her horn. But she stops short – just what is in there?

It's probably just my old homework.

But it could be...

What am I so worried about? There's nothing she doesn't know.

Exactly. This is Princess Celestia. There's nothing I can't –

My smartest, most talented, most loyal student...

Twilight's heart sinks as she remembers a regal voice whispered in her ear, as imaginary as it was incredible.

"Well?" That same voice, made of everything good in this world.

It was just that one time.

She steels herself up, feeling silly.

I really doubt there's an embarrassing masturbation fantasy in this box.

She makes a determined nod and opens the box. Somehow, as the top flaps unfold, she finds she can't actually look. She winces away, closing her eyes.

"My goodness," Celestia titters. "I'm surprised at you, Twilight."

She snaps her eyes back open, her heart standing still.

"To think that a studious pony such as yourself would keep boxes of old homework assignments." Celestia floats a pile of papers out from the box, examining them with great interest. "Very peculiar," she says with a dry smile.

Relief washes over Twilight, and she lets out a long-held breath. "Haha, yes. That's me. Studious."

And paranoid.

She levitates some papers out for herself as the Princess leafs through her own set. It's incredibly strange – most of the old homework triggers nothing in her. But here and there, one page in particular will conjure eerie feelings of deja-vu. Like stepping back in time for a moment.

"Hmmm." Celestia holds pages up one by one. "Multiplication tables... A-plus. Early Modern History quiz... A-plus. Report on Basic Magical Principles... let's see here... ah, A-plus." Celestia drops the papers briefly and gives her a look. "I don't remember assigning you any of these."

"These are from my other teachers." Twilight looks over to the other boxes again, slowly recovering forgotten memories. "I think all of yours are together."

"Ah." The Princess wastes no time in going back to poring over Twilight's old work.

Why is she so interested in this old stuff?

It is old. Twilight recognizes her own writing as it was, still clean and clear and professional. Her own writing.

Spike wasn't old enough to take dictation yet.

This is grade-school work, just after she started at Celestia's school. She turns another page and chuckles a little.

"Look at this." She holds up a summary of known planets, graced with an A-plus, of course. "I forgot all about Mr. Grass. Do you think he was related to the real Tyson Grass?"

Celestia's face goes blank. "The real Tyson Grass?"

"You know, the one who wrote Equestrian Universe: Our Home in the Cosmos. I just love that book."

"Twilight, he was... well, I suppose he moved away before you read that."

Twilight's mouth slowly hangs open as it dawns on her. "That was him?"

"We were honored to have him as a teacher, but unfortunately he chose to concentrate on research for a time. There are only so many of the best and brightest, after all."

Twilight's mouth continues to hang open.

"He asks about you occasionally," Celestia says. "I suppose he's been too shy to contact you directly."

Twilight shakes her head, pulling herself together. She had known as she got older that she was studying with academia's elite, but at an early age...? She spreads her pile of papers out all over the bed, her heart leaping up as names jump out at her. Famous professors, from every discipline possible, all with homework addressed to their names, written by her very horn.

"I..." Twilight looks up to her mentor, speechless. Celestia seems not to notice, still absorbed in Twilight's early work.

Twilight clears her throat loudly, choking up on nothing. Celestia looks up and seems puzzled by the mess in front of Twilight. Her eye is immediately caught by one of the papers.

"Now that looks interesting," Celestia says. "In Defense of Princess Celestia, by Twilight Sparkle."

"What? Oh." Twilight slides the paper closer on the bed. She remembers it, vaguely – her first academic essay. She had just earned her cutie mark at the time. "It was supposed to be a book report, I think."

"And what vile slander was this book defending me from?" Celestia says, looking quite amused.

"Actually, that's just what I titled the essay. The book was Equestrian Cosmos."

Celestia drops whatever papers she had been looking at. "... I confess, I'm confused."

"You don't think that book was attacking... well, you?"

"Absolutely not," Celestia says, with an incensed tone that Twilight has rarely heard. "Colt Sagan was a dear friend of mine, you know."

"Really?" Twilight's ears can't decide if they want to perk up in curiosity or lie back flat. "Because he wrote some things that were... I don't know, kind of –"

"May I see it?" Celestia says, then puts a hoof to her chin. "Or better yet, why don't you read it to me? It's been a long while since I enjoyed one of your presentations."

Well, why not?

Twilight clears her throat, quietly this time, and slips back into familiar waters. For just a moment it feels like they're back in one of Celestia's study rooms, discussing Twilight's latest classes.

"The great Colt Sagan once wrote," she reads, "‘The cosmos is interesting rather than perfect, and everything is not part of some greater plan, nor is all necessarily under control.' I admit that I like Colt Sagan and I enjoy his books, but on this point he is completely wrong."

Twilight darts her eyes up, to gauge the Princess' reaction. She looks deeply intrigued, all her thoughtful attention centered on Twilight.

Deep breath. Keep reading. Don't freeze don't freeze keep reading.

"The problem with this is," she goes on, "that Colt Sagan implies that we are not all watched over and protected by a deity. Of course, we are. Things are under control. Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia provides for all of us, and protects us from harm. She raises the sun, and the moon, and the world is what it is because of her good grace."

Twilight forces herself to look up again. Celestia looks quite impressed, a humble, "aw, shucks" kind of look. Twilight feels herself blush slightly, just a light burn on her cheeks. She wonders from what book she was cribbing, to sound so worshipful at such a young age.

"Furthermore," she reads on, taking refuge in the paper, "Princess Celestia is a perfect being, the pinnacle of grace and generosity. She is a benevolent ruler... who will always provide for..."

She trails off, the burn on her cheeks growing hotter. The next few lines stare at her from the page, daring her to read them aloud.

She truly is perfect, from her magical mane to her wonderful voice. Her beauty is unmatched, in every way, her brilliant wings as lovely as her intelligence and kindness. She is the most perfect...

Twilight gets the urge to zap the paper into nothingness.

I tried to turn this in as homework?!

She gulps loudly and lets out a nervous chuckle. "Heh... uh... the rest of it just goes on like that. Not very interesting," she says, sliding the paper closer to herself, hoping to hide it somehow.

"You flatter me, Twilight," the Princess says. "And to think, I never knew I needed defending."

"You don't."

"Should the need ever arise, I suppose I shall have to call on you first."

Twilight shrinks against herself, feeling as small as a speck in an endless starry sky. Teleportation spells come to mind, as they always do. It isn't the first time she's embarrassed herself in front of the Princess.

But it's been a while. And this is pretty embarrassing, even for me.

"And what did Mr. Grass think of your spirited defenses?" Celestia asks.

"... I got a B-minus," Twilight quietly admits. "It was the first time I had ever gotten below an A. I was so mad."

"That's too bad. To be fair, though, it doesn't sound like you spent much time reviewing the book."

"...No, I guess I didn't." Twilight looks down again, and it does in fact say just that across the bottom of her paper in faded red pen. She briefly scans her teacher's critiques –

Personal feelings do not belong in an academic essay.

Her eyebrows shoot up as she reads it, caught red-hoofed. She quickly buries the essay under other homework assignments.

"I wonder if we can find any other essay assignments from Tyson in here... I do so miss his style..." Celestia says.

Twilight balks for a moment at Celestia's familiar use of that name. But she quickly forgets all about it in favor of panicking as Celestia digs further into the box.

"Actually! Um... sorry, but I was getting kind of tired. If you don't mind," Twilight says, forcing an exaggerated yawn. She polishes it off with an anxious and obviously fake grin.

"Of course, Twilight. How rude of me. My apologies."

They pile the papers back into the box together. Twilight sighs in relief as she closes it – either the Princess suspects nothing, or she's very good at hiding it.

Wouldn't that be worse?

Celestia stands up to leave, and Twilight feels an odd guilt – like she's been caught cheating.

That doesn't even make sense, she left you.

The thought brings all the sadness from before rushing back, and she gets the urge to beg Celestia to stay, with her, for just a little while.

"Sleep well, my student. Let me know if you need –"

Celestia pauses mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing. She glares over Twilight's shoulder, a disbelieving, angry frown on her face. Twilight turns to see what she's looking at, but it's just a dark, empty corner of the room. She feels Celestia's hoof on her shoulder and turns back – the angry moment has passed.

"Send for me if you need anything," Celestia says.

"I will. Thank you."

Celestia floats towards the door, taking light with her. She pauses in the doorway, silhouetted against the lamps of the hall, her hair billowing and shimmering as if there were wind. She turns and looks back over shoulder.

"Goodnight, Twilight."

"Goodnight... Princess."

The door closes, and Twilight is alone in the dim, stray starlight from the window. She sighs and glances at the spot Celestia had been glaring at. Nothing – just a bare patch of stone floor, washed in shadow.

She sighs again, levitating the box to the floor. A long, restless night beckons, full of tossing and turning and guilt. She wishes desperately that she hadn't made the Princess leave, and briefly considers going to find her.

That would be so sad. And awkward.

So what? Anything's better than lying here. Alone.

It felt good. Talking to her. It took my mind off of...

She lies down on the bed, hiding under her own hooves. This isn't how it should be.

She should be here. Or I should be there, or...

It doesn't matter. She yearns for her touch, to feel her snuggling close and sighing and slowly falling asleep against her side.

Or maybe she doesn't fall asleep. Maybe she snuggles closer and whispers something naughty in my ear and we...

She groans aloud, and pounds a hoof into the bed.

Pathetic.

What? I can miss that, too. That is a valid feeling.

Maybe if you'd cared about something other than rutting her –

She cuts it off, cold and efficient. Those thoughts are on the bad list, about the bad thing, and they are not allowed right now.

I wonder how Spike is doing.

There, much better. Spike is... well, he's probably...

Sleeping?

Her mind is strangely empty. Her eyes wander, idly settling on that dark, empty corner of the room.

What dim light there is fades. Clouds must be passing in the night sky, blocking out the stars and moon. Twilight lets out a wry snort as distant memories of Rainbow Dash come back to her. Clouds and stars and beauty above. She keeps staring, the shadows shifting and moving as her eyes fight to keep up.

She blinks once. She could almost swear – no, that's silly.

She blinks again.

And then a goddess walks out of the shadows.

Twilight shoots upright on her bed. The Princess –

The bad Princess

Luna fades out of the shadows, as if stepping through a door. She's resplendent, still radiating power and starlight and pure, ineffable magic. The room is bathed in her pale glow, making even the mundane boxes look mysterious. Twilight glares at her, and huffily turns her head away.

You knew this would happen. You knew. Be strong.

She hears Luna's hooves, shod in blue crystal, tapping closer on the floor. She refuses to look her way.

"What are you doing here?" Twilight growls, low and petulant.

"Oh, please. How rude would I be if I failed to welcome such an esteemed guest?"

Twilight glares harder, gritting her teeth. She digs her hooves into the blankets.

"No... sorry, I..." the goddess trails off, sounding unsure. Like she did on that Nightmare Night, long ago. "Do not worry. No games, tonight. No tricks. I am here to apologize."

That takes her by surprise. Twilight's glare softens a microscopic amount, which only makes her more angry. "Apologizing? Now you're apologizing?!"

"I really did think she would take you back. I am sorry."

Twilight closes her eyes, holding her chin high. She can't even begin to wrap her head around the many things she would like to scream at this... this...

Something. Something awful. Whatever she is.

"So you see, Twilight," Luna continues, "I am not perfect. I am not all-knowing."

Twilight snorts rudely. "Well, I already knew you weren't perfect."

"Ha! A fair blow. I acknowledge it."

Twilight had thought so, but Luna's unwillingness to be offended takes all the pleasure out of it. She digs deeper, knowing that she's out of her depth. Nothing comes right away – she has so little experience throwing verbal strikes.

What am I doing? This isn't me.

She hears the clip-clopping of Luna's shoes on the stone, and then the weight of her forelegs on the edge of the bed. The air is alive as she draws near, thrumming and chilling.

"You do understand, don't you?" Luna asks.

"I understand why you seem to have trouble getting ponies to like you."

Twilight finally looks over as she says it, shocked at the words leaving her mouth. Luna looks shocked, too – her mouth drops open for just a second, then curls into a wounded sneer.

What, no witty remark? Was that a fair blow?

Twilight feels a small thrill at seeing Luna affected so, and it makes her sick to her stomach.

"Fair enough," Luna says, not smiling in the least. "It is no secret that I am not as... loved as my sister."

Twilight sighs, wishing badly to scoot far, far away to the other side of the bed.

Don't you dare feel bad for her. Do not.

"I am sorry, Twilight. I only wanted what is best for you."

"Well you have a funny way of showing it."

"What would you rather I had done?" Luna flares her wings out, dropping her detached facade. "You were infatuated with me. I would have broken your heart completely."

"You did break my heart!"

"Oh, no." Luna shakes her head gravely. "No, no, my dear Twilight. This pittance you call sadness is nothing compared to what I could do to you. Even your anguish now is as nothing. I have ruined great houses and brought nations to ashes with my love. Consider yourself lucky."

The room groans and darkens around them, seemingly drawing in. Twilight could almost swear that menacing clouds gather in the sky. She can't help recoiling in fear a little, despite everything.

"I... I mean... excuse me." Luna folds her wings in, glancing around at nothing. Starlight returns, and the night is cool and peaceful again. The Princess collects herself, calmly leaning against the bed. "I could not have made you happy. Not really. Not in the end."

Twilight collects herself as well, remembering to look angry. She says nothing.

"Truly. I keep harems, Twilight. Harems. Would you really bind yourself to me?"

"...Harems? Plural?" Twilight asks.

"It is more fun that way."

Twilight feels just a little disgusted. She's not quite sure why – she wants to think it's because of the idea of a harem, but...

She's right. I don't want her. I never wanted her, even if I didn't know it.

Luna goes on, as If Twilight had admitted her rightness out loud. "You wish to find love. One love. For life. Is this not true?"

Twilight begrudgingly mumbles and nods.

"There. Is it not obvious, then –"

"Fine!" Twilight yells, almost snapping at the Princess. "Fine! You're right! Is that what you want to hear? You were right all along, and I was wrong and stupid and, and this was all part of some genius plan! You're brilliant, and wonderful, and I completely don't hate you!"

Twilight fumes at her, breathing so hard her nostrils flare. Luna just stares blankly back, her hoof still raised as if she was addressing a crowd.

"There," Twilight spits the words at her. "You didn't do anything wrong. You can leave me alone now."

Luna slowly lowers her hoof, still at a loss for words. It takes her a few long seconds to recover her airs. "Twilight," she says, shakily getting her knowing smile back, "I know that you do not truly hate me."

"You don't know anything," Twilight growls. "Or are you back to pretending that you're all-knowing?"

Luna looks down at her own hooves. Twilight angrily rolls over on her side, turning her back to the Princess of the Night. She's furious, her heart pounding.

"I... I'm sorry, Twilight," Luna says, very quietly. "I truly am. It was a difficult situation. I was pained to do that to you, even if I am sure it was right. I thought to help you."

Twilight takes a long, deep breath, feeling her anger drain away.

Don't you dare. Don't even think about it.

She rolls over, facing the Princess. She extends her hoof, resting it on the blanket, outstretched towards Luna. Luna raises her eyebrows, almost leaning away in defense. Twilight taps her hoof on the bed a few times, beckoning. Slowly, cautiously, Luna reaches out to her, their forelegs meeting.

They sit like that, staring at each other. Twilight feels no strange surge of magic, like she did whenever Luna touched her before. No overwhelming emotions. It's almost the other way around – Luna is hanging on her words, uncomfortably waiting.

"I don't really hate you," Twilight says. "I think."

"I am glad. That is a good start."

"I, uh... I'm going through some stuff at the moment."

Luna giggles forlornly. "In all my years, I've found that is the only way to adequately describe a situation like yours."

Twilight curls her hoof around Luna's, a friendly grasp.

I do feel bad for her. Now that I know her.

The realization is freeing, somehow – seeing the weight is all it took to lift it off of her.

"I think I just need a bad guy right now," Twilight says. "One that isn't me."

Luna smiles. "I can be a... a bad guy."

Twilight smiles back. "I know. You're pretty good at it, actually."

"Unfortunately."

They both look away, uncomfortable with too much truth just yet.

In all my years.

"So... you just don't fall in love. Is that it?" Twilight asks.

"I wouldn't say that, exactly," Luna says. "But I do not get too attached, either."

Twilight mulls this over, still letting the Princess hold on to her. "I didn't understand, before. That mindset," she says. "I think I get it now."

"Hmph." Luna rolls her eyes. "Perhaps in a few million years, if you are still alive, we can talk about how you ‘get it'."

Twilight grasps her hoof harder. Sadness can be banished. Loneliness, too. She's felt it happen.

"You've tried, before. Haven't you?" Twilight says.

Luna pulls her hoof away suddenly, as if Twilight was hurting her. "Everyone makes mistakes, Twilight."

"Is that how you think of me?"

"No."

Luna looks down upon her, a sad smile miles away. Twilight sits up, wondering what she can say for her. For both of them.

"I do understand," Twilight says. "Better than I did, anyway."

"I know." Luna nods. She almost looks on the edge of smiling tears for a moment. But she holds it back to a wry smirk. "My sister is always saying how smart you are."

Twilight perks up. "How does she do it?"

"My sister?"

"Yes," Twilight holds a hoof to her chin, struggling to find a way to word her thoughts without sounding rude. "I used to think your way was strange. But I can't even imagine doing it her way."

"Truly, I do not know." Luna shakes her head, as if they were discussing some minor foible. "When I'm not thinking of how foolish she is, I quite admire it about her."

"I mean... it can't be easy on her."

"Oh, she's fine," Luna grumbles mockingly. "She's always fine. Nothing ever truly goes wrong for her."

Twilight gives the alicorn a sympathetic look, feeling sorry for bringing it up.

"Excuse me," Luna says with tangible remorse. "It still comes out, sometimes. I love her dearly."

Twilight stays silent, unsure of where she's ended up.

"She has endless capacity for it, you know," Luna says. "She is love. As I am sex. She can not act any other way. And she's always been the lucky one," Luna grumbles.

"That's not true. You're both lucky."

Luna raises a haughty eyebrow at her, daring Twilight to try and convince her.

"You're always acting like I can't understand your perspective. And maybe you're right. But try to think of it from mine – you're both gods. You live forever. You're amazing and powerful and you make life in Equestria possible," Twilight almost lectures.

Luna seems almost convinced. Twilight soldiers on, flush with confidence.

"You are the sun and the moon," she says. "She lights up the day, and you light up the night."

Luna looks away suddenly. "You're wrong."

"Huh?"

"The moon doesn't make any light of its own. It just reflects the light of the sun."

Luna stares at the floor, heaving a forlorn sigh. Twilight sits on the bed, frowning, finally realizing just how out of her depth she really is.

"I..." Twilight stammers.

I'm sorry?

"I heard you reading to her. Earlier," Luna says, still casting her eyes down. "You are right to admire her."

"What?" Twilight feels her cheeks and ears heat up again. Because Luna was eavesdropping, of course. "I don't... I mean I do, but –"

"Goodnight, Twilight."

Luna stands and trots towards the window, flapping her wings and making bends in the shadows. She runs and leaps out into the night, taking off without missing a step.

Twilight sits, still trying to make words for a conversation that's already ended.

What... what was that supposed to mean?

Nothing. Nothing, is what she meant.

She doesn't know what she's talking about. Not about that.

Twilight nods to herself, sure that she's right.

Sure. So sure. No doubt at all.

She clumsily squirms her way under the blankets, determined to make herself feel tired, to just skip ahead to the morning.

No doubt at all.