Princess Twilight Sparkle sighed as she stepped over the threshold into her childhood home. Her parents had sent her ahead to relax after the Summer Sun Celebration, while they ran to the store to pick up the ingredients for supper. They had recognized that after all she had been through, she needed just a few moments to herself. It was the perfect opportunity to relax.

Even though the room had barely changed at all in the past years, what struck her first was the scent. Fitting enough, she thought. She had read in a book somewhere that scent was the sense most closely tied to memory. She closed her eyes.

The potpourri bowl was strongest of course, but it was only the foundation for the melange of other odors in the air. She could make out the scent of an alfalfa casserole, her mother’s old standby for dinners when she couldn’t think of anything else to make. There was also a hint of smoke wafting through the room, the remnants of the fire that her parents had probably cuddled in front of the night before. Finally, a hint of her mother’s favorite perfume. As much as she liked the scent of dust and old books, it didn’t quite smell like home.

As she mused on the smell, she noticed the sound of the clock. It had hung on the wall since before she was born; in fact, if she remembered right, her grandmother had given it to her mother as a baby shower gift. It had a wonderfully distinct sound; each tick was sharp and each tock reverberated ever so slightly. She couldn’t even count the number of times that she had fallen asleep listening to its rhythm. The memory was so strong that she began to nod off, even as she stood in the doorway.

Twilight shook her head and opened her eyes. Her gaze wandered to the threadbare couch that sat in front of the fireplace, where she had enjoyed many a warm afternoon nap. It surprised her that her parents had kept it for so long. Then again, very little had changed. The wallpaper, the rug, her father’s armchair, the pictures on the wall… none of it had changed in the slightest.

There were a few more pictures on the mantelpiece: a family photo taken before she had moved into Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, Shining Armor and Cadance’s wedding photo, a picture of her coronation… she smiled. If there were any ponies she could count on not to treat her any differently, it would be her parents. Once they got back, they’d probably be back to treating her just like they always had.

She could already imagine her mother dragging her into helping with dinner; it would be “bring me that bowl... turn the oven on... tell your father to get his hooves out of the salad”. If they brought up her wings at all, it would probably be her father complaining about how she kept bumping into things with them.

Twilight glanced at the clock. Her parents wouldn’t arrive for another fifteen minutes, at least. That was more than enough time to unwind.

She dropped her saddlebags on the floor and took a seat on the couch. Almost immediately she was overcome by the urge to curl up. She resisted for just an instant before giving in, lying facedown, her head nestled against the pillow. Her body itself seemed to remember the feeling of the velvety cushions against it. She could almost forget that she was an alicorn and a princess. At the moment, she felt much more like a filly.

A moment passed, and one of her wings began to itch. Twilight groaned, and reluctantly began to preen the offending feathers. If only she could have found a way to keep that feeling longer. She had gotten just a taste of what things had once been. Of who she had been before becoming a princess or before becoming Celestia’s personal student, before her wings and even before her cutie mark. Back when she had been a unicorn filly with no worries in the world other than hoping mom wouldn’t make something nasty for dinner.

It was a cruel taste, she thought. Just enough to make her hunger for more. If only there was some way to go back, and experience those days again. She sighed, and let one of her forehooves dangle over the edge of the couch. It brushed against her saddlebag, and she heard the hollow sound of a bottle. She peered down, and realized that she still had Zecora’s bottle. A thought crossed her mind, and she bit her lip. Her magic glowed softly as she lifted the bottle out of the bag.

There was just a swallow of potion left.

Her eyes darted to the clock. She would have more than enough time before her parents returned. The flashback itself would only last five minutes at most, and it would be well worth it to regain some perspective. She lifted the potion to her lips and drained it.

As the magic glow faded, she found herself in the same place, sitting on the couch in her family’s living room. As she had remembered, it looked nearly the same as it did in the present. The only differences were that everything appeared a bit newer, and there were an assortment of toys scattered across the floor. But something wasn’t quite as she remembered. She recognized the toys, to be sure, but most - no, all - of them belonged to Shining Armor. Smarty Pants was nowhere to be found.

She glanced at her father’s chair. Whenever she left for school, she had always left the doll sitting there, but now it was gone. Her brother was nowhere to be seen either. She looked at the clock, and to her surprise found that it was gone. In its place hung a different, decidedly cheap-looking excuse for a clock of the type that was always a few minutes off. Must’ve gone back further than I thought. According to the clock, which was probably at least a little accurate, it seemed that Shining Armor would be at school.

She stepped off the couch and began to walk down the hallway to her old room. As always, family pictures hung on the wall, but she found that she herself was absent from all of them. As she reached the door to her room, a suspicion began to form in her mind. She opened the door, and her suspicion was confirmed. This wasn’t her room. It was storage. She sighed, and closed the door.

“AAHHH!”

Twilight nearly jumped out of her wings as she heard a mare’s pained scream. She spun in place as she tried to figure out where it had come from. Then there was another. And another. Somepony was in trouble. Twilight rushed down the hall, listening for the shouts. Whoever was screaming, she was hurt. Twilight wasn’t sure what she was going to do if she found her, but at the very least she needed to find out what was happening.

Had somepony been attacked? Had somepony died?! Surely her parents would have told her if something like that had happened. Why wouldn’t they tell her? It wasn’t as if they had anything to hide. A chill washed over her. No, that couldn’t possibly be it. Her parents would never do anything to hurt anypony. At worst, maybe there was a burglar or something.

She stopped for a moment and listened. There was another agonized cry. Twilight shivered as she realized that the sound was coming from her parents’ room. She took a deep breath and all but charged down the hallway and through the semi-open door. As she burst into the room, she skidded to halt as a series of realizations crashed down on top of her.

First of all, the mare that had been crying out was her mother.

Second, that her mother’s cries were decidedly not in pain.

Third, that her father was also in the room, and he was directly on top of her mother.

Fourth, that her parents could neither see nor hear her, and as a result weren’t about to stop their… activity.

Twilight cried out in a strangled scream, and staggered backwards, trying to propel herself out of the room, her legs and wings flailing madly as she tried to cover her eyes with as many limbs as possible. “Nonononononononononono!” She babbled to herself as she scurried along the hallway, not daring to open her eyes. Somehow she managed to find the sofa, which she promptly buried her face in. She screamed into the pillow as she tried to call to mind anything else in the universe that could blot out the memory of what she had just seen. Then she heard her father’s voice.

“Twilight, are you alright?!”

“H-huh?” She looked up to find herself back in the present, both of her parents staring down at her with fitting parental concern.

“We just got back from the store, and you were shaking and yelling something into the cushion,” her mother said. “Did something happen?”

“N-no,” Twilight shook her head.

“Are you sure?” her father narrowed his eyes. “You look a bit shaken up.”

“It’s just stress,” she mumbled. “You know, princess stuff.” She fluttered her wings for emphasis. “Saving the world from the forces of chaos.”

“I see.” Her mother nodded sagely. “Well, if you can save the world, then helping me with dinner should be a snap. And you can use your royal authority to tell your father not to eat all my ingredients before I can make anything out of them. Now you go wash up, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“O-okay,” Twilight nodded dumbly as she watched her mother disappear into the kitchen.

“Hmph.” Her father shook his head. “You may be a princess now, but I’m still your dad, you know.”

“Yeah,” Twilight mumbled. “I know.”

“I’m going to go help your mother with dinner.” He winked, and Twilight shuddered.

“I-I’ll be in there in a minute,” she mumbled as her dad followed his wife out of the room.

As the door closed behind him, Twilight cringed. Nostalgia was great and all, but sometimes one needed to move on.

Author's Notes:

I had more fun writing this than I probably should have. Everybody was going on and on about how questionable the potion looks, and nobody realized that there was potential for other applications.

Thanks to Ainawing, CDRW, Epic-Cabinet, Grenader, and Sereg for proofreading. (If I forgot anyone, which I probably did, just remind me.)