I step into my room with a long drawn out sigh and gratefully sink into the soft embrace that is my bed, letting the events of the day play out in my mind. Lamenting court proceedings is not something I do often. It is an integral part of Equestria’s government and the world would be a poorer place without it; but there are times where I would like to go back in time and slap myself for making it a reality.

Court means endless feuding over matters like land and possessions, essentially making me both an arbiter and an unwilling spectator in the nobles infuriating games of power. And then there's the fact that holding court means having to make promises, and keeping promises invariably means keeping secrets. As such, secrecy has become all but second nature, which makes it harder, rather than easier like you would expect. There are a thousand and one state secrets that I have to keep track of, and many more personal secrets that ponies confide to me in.

On any given day, I deal with at least three separate events where I’m tempted to reveal one of them. Generally in the hope that it might improve somepony’s life, or put a stop to some tragedy or other I know might be avoided. Yet none of them ever pass my lips for fear of giving away too much. It is very much a slippery slope which may prove fatal for ponies’ trust, or even lives, if I don’t tread carefully. If I were to act simply by what I would like for the world to be a lot of things would change, and sadly, not all for the better.

Whenever I deliberate on that, my thoughts inevitably turn to the 'secrets' about myself.

As a public figure and ruler of a country, ponies often know more about my life than they do about their next door neighbours. Most any newspaper contains some reference to me or other, and some have even dedicated entire sections of their weekly distribution to my long... storied... history. And that is precisely the problem.

They are, more often than not, stories. Hyperbolic tales with little, if any, connection to reality. Even so, several of the things I would rather have kept a secret from becoming public knowledge leak out this way. There have been instances where reporters stumble onto one of them by coincidence or find a kernel of truth in their never ending speculation; like my admitted weakness for cake.

It’s true. I do have a wicked sweet tooth. Between the most talented cooks in the country being employed by the castle, and an eternally immaculate figure; I simply can’t resist having a slice, or even a whole cake, or pie, or whatever else they put in front of me. Unlike secrets, too much cake has never caused me any problems.

And it’s not as though it really matters, my medical staff considers my metabolism to be something of a miracle. A half remembered smile ghosts past my lips when I remember that one of my doctors privately asked where I put it all, and I jokingly asked him if he thought I was solar-powered in turn.

Regardless, it was quite the scandal the first time ponies found out about it, and every so many hundred years they forget, and it becomes a scandal all over again. A never ending cycle of controversy that I’m sad to say I’ve learned to live with.

Or perhaps ambivalence is the more apt descriptor...

There are other secrets, of course, to which only those closest to me are privy. Like the fact that I do not, in fact, work every single moment of every single day. Or that I don’t always immediately have the solution to every single problem that crops up in the kingdom. Though keeping most ponies ignorant of that fact is often a deliberate choice that helps keep stability.

Or, and perhaps most importantly, the one I’ve managed to keep to myself up until now: The fact that I have a burgeoning relationship with a beautiful young Alicorn who also happens to be a former student. And when I say ‘burgeoning relationship’, I mean that she has started making trips back to Canterlot at least once a week to see me. Unfortunately, we haven’t seen nearly as much of each other as I have hoped for.

Spending time with Twilight was precious to me since long before I would have allowed her name and 'marefriend' in the same thought, and it has only become more important to me since. I never thought twice about giving up what little time I would have had to myself, if the alternative was spending it with her, and now I find myself longing for her every night she isn’t here.

Stars, it sounds so young and foolish. Even now that I should have a chance at some time off— given that my marefriend does her share of the paperwork— I don’t nearly get as much time curled up against her as I would like. The problem, as ever, lies with those I am responsible for. Even when I do manage to get ahead of my schedule, ponies always seem to find more work somewhere. The snuggling is wondrous when it does happen, however, and I keep finding myself wondering how I lived without it.

Alas, this week’s ‘lesson on statecraft’ was a failure from the time I rose the sun and Twilight has gone back to Ponyville to care for Spike and spend some time with her friends. Worse still, she won’t return for a fortnight due to an obligation of her own.

The last kind of secrets, the ones I keep wholly to myself, are of no particular import to anypony but myself; and I would have preferred it had stayed that way. Like the fact that I can’t dance with any sort of proficiency outside of the ballroom dances that are so very vital to political dealings, or the well hidden fact that—

A surprised chortle escapes me when a smattering of feathers trails along my barrel, followed immediately by a very naughty voice whispering in my ear: “Hello, Princess...” Twilight’s voice is unmistakeable, and from the way she’s purring one could almost assume her to be the cat that ate the canary. I don’t shock easily, but Twilight appearance in my chambers does take me aback. It seems she hasn’t left after all.

“Weren’t you supposed to go home?” I ask, despite myself, looking at her over my shoulder. Nothing would please me more than to have her with me tonight, yet at the same time, I can’t help but think of Spike. I have to stop myself from shaking my head. That’s a lie. It’s not Spike I’m worried about. Not in the least.

Twilight repeats her tantalizing feather-duster impression which derails my train of thought. Stars if only she’d never found out.

“I got a letter from Spike asking if he could go on a trip with Applejack’s family. Apparently Big Macintosh has tickets for a hoofball game in Manehatten,” comes the reply, followed by Twilight rubbing her cheeks against my croup. “I said ‘yes’, if you’re wondering.” My tail twitches, sending the hairs billowing everywhere. It’s one of the downsides of having hair that constantly moves as a magic release mechanism; hard to control at the best of times.

Even having known her as long as I do, it still amazes me how inventive Twilight can be when she puts her mind to it. Especially in the realm of seduction, where I know for a fact all of her knowledge came out of a book. No matter how theoretical her knowledge however, she somehow knows how to put it into practice with the same intuitive understanding she shows in magic.

When she crawls upwards and leans in to plant a kiss on the nape of my neck, I very nearly swoon - tsk, I do swoon, no need to hide it here.. I let myself roll over onto my back, implicitly giving Twilight permission do what she wants while only wishing she’d continue with what she's doing.

Another sigh escapes me when she makes good on her equally implicit promise, her exploratory kisses raining down on my coat like... rain. It is surprisingly hard to be eloquent when you have your marefriend treating you to sensations you never knew you wanted until you are subjected to them. I do manage another question, but only after a few minutes of enjoying myself, and another few in which I gather my wits. "Did you have a good day?"

Twilight's climbed onto my chest, and her response is hard to make out through the nuzzling act she’s engaged in. The gist of it is simple enough, however: "I missed you." I can’t blame her. She specifically came to Canterlot today to see me, only to be saddled with my excess duties while I tried to calm down a dispute between two nobles. A fruitless effort on all counts.

Her disappointment that her trip was a waste must have been as palpable and heartbreaking as it was adorable. Sadly I wasn’t there to see it, but such is the way of things at times. Noblesse oblige, or whatever that infuriating phrase is that they bandy about when they want me to listen to their inanities is.

Before we started ‘dating’, I never would have thought it possible that Twilight of all ponies could be as enticing as a succubus. And though she almost plays me like a flute in the hooves of a virtuoso, the occasional hesitation or caught breath merely makes it transparent that she is still Twilight underneath all of her technique. She makes up for it by being twice as ferocious after every little pause, however, so I can’t say I really mind.

What I do very much mind, is being teased. Don't get me wrong, I adore the more refined, friendly, and often comedic teasing, which has been a big part of my interactions with Luna since her return. But in the face of more direct, and often very intimate, physical equivalent, I never seem to know how to handle myself. Unfortunately for me, Twilight loves it.

Whether it is because it makes her feel empowered, or because she is very simply a much more aggressive romantic than I would have ever given her credit for, I don’t know. But the moment I feel her impish grin against my neck, the romantic atmosphere retreats into a corner, and a mixture of apprehension and anticipation courses through me, no matter how much I try to control it. “Twilight...” My voice sounds weak, little more than a whimper. Goodness, how did it end up like this? “Please don’t.”

A featherlight touch of magic, like a swarm of butterflies, dances up my spine and belly alike, making me bite my lower lip. There is no way I am going to give in to this. Not again. Not this time. Empty words I tell myself every time Twilight turns her magic on me in this way, but I have yet to back them up with the composure required for such an impossible feat.

When the magic finds its target, the tendons that connect my wings to my back, I’m already struggling against the undeniable itch of laughter that bubbles up in my chest. The magic doesn’t care. Nor, it seems, does its caster. She still has her face pressed against my neck, and she’s still smiling victoriously while directing her magic.

My composure, strong as it is, breaks before she’s reached the tips of my wings and I can’t stop myself from bursting out into laughter. Twilight, however, has only just begun and I lose it completely when her magic pokes at every weak spot simultaneously.

At some point in the past, I don’t quite remember when, Twilight told me excitedly about a ‘secret about wings’ that she’d read up on. Ironically, it was many years before she’d sprouted her own. In retrospect, her interest could probably have clued me in to her attraction to me. But at the time, I’d filed it under ‘Twilight’s general curiosity’.

”From an evolutionary standpoint, they are fascinating. Wings have thousands of little nerve endings between the primaries that help the pony they’re attached to feel and navigate the flow of air-currents. And it’s that required sensitivity that makes them such wonderful targets when you want to win a tickle fight.”

Twilight wouldn’t have been Twilight if she hadn’t prepared an entire lecture on the topic, but given that she had also decided to treat me to a practical demonstration of the subject matter, I honestly can’t recall most of it.

Which was how she found out about the one secret that I would really rather nopony knew, and has used that knowledge with ruthless efficiency since. Today is no different.

“Twiliiiiightt!”

She varies up the magic’s location and strength in a way that is impossible for me to predict. She lets up on one side, only to make me do a double-take when she suddenly attacks a point near my hock I didn’t even know I was ticklish in. Leave it to Twilight to have researched every possible pressure point in a pony’s body.

Before long, it feels like my sides are going to give out before she has mercy, and then, of course, ‘overachiever’ Twilight takes it up a notch more. On and on, and on... It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed. If I wasn’t having such trouble breathing, and wasn’t keenly aware of the tears of laughter streaming down my face, I’d almost be convinced that I’d passed out.

Suddenly, Twilight's assault ends, and her weight disappears from my chest, leaving me lying there on my bed. Exhausted, panting, and utterly confused. The confusion doesn’t last long, as I spot a bright light in my peripheral vision. Somepony has opened the door.

"Princess?!” One of my guards asks from his position in the doorjamb. He keeps his voice low, trying not to disturb me even while the concern is evident in his voice. “Is everything alright? We heard screaming!"

The realisation that I neglected to cast any sort of sound-canceling spells (or even lock the door behind me) sets in, along with a burst of panic. What exactly did they hear? What if they know? Normally such things are on the top of my priority list when Twilight is visiting, but I honestly believed that she had gone. And now our secret might not be one for much longer. Luckily, the guard’s tone is one of concern rather than alarm, which means that it is probably isn’t much of a stretch to assume that Twilight hid in time.

Although the immediate assault has ceased, the light feeling of laughing (and the exhaustion) do not simply vanish along with it. A tense few seconds pass before I find the strength to respond. I really should right myself, go to the door, and perhaps even step out to assure them that I am completely okay. But somehow, it doesn’t feel as important as it probably should.

Though perhaps it’s a hint of fear that they might notice the sweat on my coat, or my puffy eyes and assume something worse. "Everything is fine, guardsman," goes my reply once I find enough air for it, and even that short sentence is more of a wheeze than anything. "Just a..." Horsefeathers, what do I tell him? "...Just a bad dream."

"Of course, Princess. Apologies for disturbing you." The guard is silent for a moment before I once again make out motion from the door in my peripheral vision. I almost breathe a sigh of relief until it stops halfway through and the guard speaks up again. "Would you like me to get you some chamomile tea, Princess? Or perhaps something else?"

"No.” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. Pretending a cough buys me enough time for another breath of air after which I do right myself and smile at him. “There’s no need, guardsman. Thank you for your concern, and your vigilance, but I'm fine, really." He nods, and before he has even closed the door all the way, I hurl a sound canceling bubble at the door and the surrounding walls, and lock the door after him. After giving myself peace of mind by doing so, a glance around the room reveals... not much of anything. "You can come out now, Twilight."

A shadow cast by one of the canopy curtains surrounding my bed bulges outwards, and a horned, pony-like shape emerges, its horn clad in the dark swirling magic of my sister’s domain. The shadow then withdraws, slowly, leaving only a sheepish looking Twilight behind. "Sorry," she says at length, "I didn't think they would— I wasn't thinking about anypony else. I just wanted to surprise you, but I should have—"

With the worst scare of the night behind me, I laugh, one of pure joy this time. With a flick of my horn I grab her in my magic and pull her close, kissing her on the lips. "Stars, I love you." My declaration earns me a wan smile from Twilight as well and I cannot resist kissing her again. Two— three— many more kisses later, we finally separate, and I put her down on the bed, (on her back to give me the upper hoof should she try anything) before giving my curiosity a turn. “When did you learn to shadow-meld? I certainly never taught you.”

"Luna did,” Twilight replies, looking up at me with a dreamy smile. “She came up to me today, wanting to talk about illusion magic and how terrible it was that most ponies seem to have forgotten about it.” She giggles softly when I forget my control and place a kiss on her belly.. “She went on a rant about the lost art of intelligence gathering and spycraft, and how exposed Equestria was without them... I’ve always loved spy novels, so I asked her if she could show me her spells, and perhaps teach me, and then—"

There is likely a lot more to the story, but my interest dwindles rapidly. I couldn’t care less about my sister’s grievances right now. Twilight’s excitement, however, is something I want more of. From our tickle fights in the past few months—most instigated by Twilight—I’ve learned that attacking Twilight’s wings with magic simply isn’t as debilitating for her as it is for me. A problem, but by no means a big one for my current objective. Excitement exists in more than one form after all, so I’ll settle for the next best thing: Preening. Whether ticklish or not, it is certain to bring about a reaction, and from there... Perhaps she’ll feel enough at ease to finally—

"Pri— Celestia!?"

Her wings flare out and her horn sparks reflexively when a tendril of my magic snakes through her wings, but I’m faster, pressing my own horn to Twilight's and snuffing out any spell she could think to cast at the source. "Shhh, shhh," I coo, gently stroking her closest wing with a hoof. "Let me set the pace for once. There’s no need for you to always be so aggressive, is there?” When she doesn’t respond, I kiss her again, and work my way back down to her wings.

Even after almost a year, her reactions still make it more than evident that she wasn’t born with her wings. While she can, and indeed does fly, her feathers are a mess. And despite her insistence to the contrary, it seems that she still doesn’t know how to preen herself properly. Even with Twilight on her back which gives me a view of only the underside of her wings, I can tell that she’s obviously doing something wrong, or not doing it at all.

For one, she’s managed to collect quite a bit of dust and debris between her feathers, and there’s no sign of any feather conditioner. Of course, getting to every single one of the more than three thousand feathers on an Alicorn wing is complicated, even when you know where you direct your magic. In that regard, Pegasi have it easier, though it doesn’t look like Twilight has even tried.

It is a miracle that she hasn’t gone mad from the impossible itching sensation that the mottling feathers and dust particles should surely have subjected her to. Then again, perhaps she is so unfamiliar with those particular nerve endings that it has only been a mild irritation? A little nugget of knowledge that everything new needs stimulation in order to properly develop pops into my mind, and on a whim, I decide that Twilight’s wings certainly fall into that category and get to work on them straight away.

Twilight needs to learn how much of a pleasure having wings can be; whether it be through flying... or other means. Another tingle down my spine sends my tail upwards, and I force it down just as swiftly. First things first: teaching Twilight that preening doesn’t necessarily have to be a chore. Using my magic, I take one of her wings and slowly bend it so I can get a good look at the top as well.

Then, it is only a matter of leaning in, separating one of the crooked feathers from the rest with a deft twist of my tongue before pulling it out from between the others and licking the surrounding feathers back into alignment. Twilight’s wings are smaller than my own, making moving on to the next one a matter of inching along her plumage until I find my next victi— target.

Within moments I have Twilight breathing heavily and groaning softly every time I remove another of the damaged feathers. “Sorry if it hurts a little,” I tell her gently before pulling out another remex. “But that is what happens when you let your wing care languish as long as you seem to have.” When her only response is a muted grunt, I decide to focus on the task I’ve set for myself.

After all, you can’t always expect ponies to listen to you when you’re distracting them with something else, as I should well know. We don’t talk for a time. Me because my mouth is too busy straightening her feathers, she because her mouth is too busy making cute little squeaks every time I hit one of her bristles. By the time I finish her first wing, a little over an hour has passed, much to my surprise. Given the state of Twilight’s wings, I’d thought I would be working on it for much longer than that.

It lasts as long as it takes me to shrug mentally. Saving some time which I can spend with her in other ways is not something I think I will ever complain about, and the doofy grin on Twilight’s face is irresistible. I smile at her, which grows into a chuckle while I cradle her in my forelegs. The other wing can wait a few more minutes. “See?” I ask her innocently. “Preening can be very... pleasurable.” I draw the word out, rolling my tongue around the ‘r’s and she shudders in response, making me laugh again. “Good things come to those who trust others to take care of them.”

“I thought it was ‘good things come to those who wait’,” Twilight mumbles in response.

“Then it would behoove you to be patient, wouldn’t it?” I ask her, rubbing her purple belly fluff with a hoof for a moment before getting started her other wing. It is just as much, if not more of a disaster and I clack my tongue in disapproval. “Tut, tut, tut. You’d think that after a year, you’d know how to take care of your own wings.”

“I know,” Twilight begins to respond, lifting her head to look at me. “It’s just— ah!” I grin around the secondary feather I just pulled from its socket and deftly place it on the pile with the others. Shutting Twilight up and forcing her to feel rather than explain everything away is the entire point of the exercise. The startled moaning is just icing on the cake.

...Maybe I could combine the two some day?

“For example,” I continue as though I am deaf to her moans, “A bent or even snapped off primary like this, makes flying difficult at best. Not to mention that it makes your plumage look untidy. A faux pas akin to... say... having a bad case of bed mane at a function.” Leaning down, I nuzzle through Twilight’s wing until I come across another pinion that needs to be pulled out in order to make way for a new one. Rather than get on with it, I bite down on it, and wait for Twilight to do the inevitable.

Right on cue, she opens her mouth and out come the words. “I know that! I read— ah!” Even though I know there’s no longer any need to be quiet, Twilight seems to have missed my spellcasting, and bites down on a pillow close at hoof to stifle her unwanted outbursts. Maybe I’ll make use of that later...

Apart from a giggle which escapes me at Twilight’s delightful reactions, I decide not to acknowledge her responses and instead, continue with my lecture. “It’s no wonder you don’t fly more often, your poor wings look like you’ve just lost a war.” When Twilight opens her mouth again, my first idea is to pluck out another feather. She moves faster, flexing her wing and all but slapping me in the face with it, followed by an unimpressed frown that borders on a glare.

“I know,” she says, putting emphasis on every syllable. “I read all thirty guides on wing care back to back, but preening is just so time consuming...” She winces when I gently pull back her wing and pluck out another feather. “And about as pleasant as combing knots out of my mane.”

I let my own smile fade. “I’m sorry it feels that way, Twilight. It’s not supposed to.” I look down at my little Alicorn, and all of the love I feel for her blooms in my chest as though I’m seeing it for the first time. Planting a kiss on her head, I pull myself back from the brink of simply laying her down and ravishing her here and now. I’m trying to help her connect to her wings, not have my way with her... tempting though it might be.

So instead of kissing her again, I talk to her. “I had hoped to show you that, while preening certainly does take some time, it can be a wonderful experience. But tension can make it more painful than it has to be, and you are very tense. Why is that, my faithful student?”

Twilight remains silent, though it isn’t hard to guess where her hesitation comes from. I just hope it isn’t because of me. Perhaps I shouldn’t have made the call back to— “Because when you touch my wings it feels like...” She takes a deep breath but does not continue.

For all the patience I am said to have, I’ve never been very good at simply sitting around and waiting for things to happen. I like to make plans, sway minds, or otherwise influence events yet to come in a positive way. Though it is not always so easily accomplished. “Yes..?”

Even though she turns away from me, the blush that forms on her cheeks is impossible to miss and I have to stifle another giggle. She needs me to be supportive right now. “It feels... I feel so hot. It’s like I’ll catch fire.”

A tingle of arousal runs down my spine and makes my wings twitch, which is a completely natural reaction when talking about such intimate feelings and in no way makes my earlier impulse that much more likely. Okay, maybe it does a little bit, but Twilight isn’t done yet.

“It’s like those swamp gasses that ignite and cause the entire area to burn down on a hot summers day. Only it’s not—” She huffs in frustration. “I just don’t want to—”

“You don’t have to say it, Twilight,” I cut in, hiding the sting her words cause with practiced precision. I have waited for forever, there’s no need to rush. If she isn’t ready, then I will respect that. “Have you tried asking your friends for help?”

She nods gravely. “I’d heard that Fluttershy helps Rainbow out with it all the time, so I asked both of them for help. Rainbow Dash said she’d help, but I could tell that she wasn’t comfortable with it.” With a sigh she leans against me. “And she wasn’t very good either. She jittered the whole time and pulled out more good feathers than damaged ones. It actually hurt a lot... and Fluttershy...”

Bad experiences all around, and she doesn’t trust herself around me. It hurts, but at least it helps me understand that not all of her hesitation is because of me. Perhaps a professional would do a better job?

“Fluttershy blushed up a storm and didn’t talk to me for a week afterwards.” She chuckles softly. “Of course, it was only after that happened that I got to the chapter about preening somepony else being considered very intimate. I.. I suppose it helps that they grew up together. Poor Rainbow, I must have made her so uncomfortable.”

I can only nod in understanding. “I can’t recall exactly how it is described in the various guides, but they hardly ever mention that it is usually reserved for immediate family, the closest of close friends, and lovers.” She stiffens, like she’s just now figured just out how intrusive her actions could have been construed as. “What about a spa treatment? Have you tried that?”

She is so lost in her thoughts about her friends that it takes her a moment to process my question, and even then it is met with confused disbelief. “What? No, never.”

An odd response from my normally efficiency minded marefriend. “Why not?”

I feel her shrug more than I can see it. At least she’s becoming a little more relaxed. “At first it didn’t seem like such a big deal, but after I asked Fluttershy for help and got to the chapter it just seemed... uncomfortable and strange. I don’t want just anypony to touch my wings like that, especially if it’s supposed to be an intimate thing.”

Even though I’ve known Twilight for most of her life, the way her mind works still manages to elude me from time to time. There have even been times where I was tempted to peek at her dreams, just to learn more about her. I want to know how she feels right now, and my next question comes out of my mouth unbidden. “Did I overstep a boundary with the sudden preening? I...” I bite my lip. Of all the stupid mistakes I could have made... I choose the one that’s liable to do the most damage. For all the growing closer we’ve done this past year we never actually got any further than a few intimate kisses... and now I’m at a loss for words as well. Wonderful.

Strange how such a simple announcement can put everything I thought I was doing into a new, and not very favorable, light. I curse myself for having taken something so seemingly simple for granted without asking if she was okay with it. Perhaps there is some forgiveness to be had from the fact that we are dating, but even then... If it felt wrong she would have stopped me... wouldn’t she? Much to my relief, she shakes her head rather frantically and reaches up to force me to look at her, blush and all. “No! No, nothing like that! I... I liked it. I mean... You’re not just anypony. You’re my... my...” Her bashfulness is cute. Adorable, even though it perfectly illustrates the fact that we don’t get enough time to ourselves. Eventually, she takes a deep breath and rolls over onto her belly to give me a serious look. “I love you.”

It’s like the doubt suddenly fails to find any purchase in my heart. Love fills every square inch of it every time I hear her say those words, and I have to reciprocate. “I love you, too.”

She falls silent for a moment, staring into my eyes, then tears her gaze away. “It’s just... imagining anypony else preening my wings after reading that felt like...” Her wings twitch and she grimaces before settling on: “It would have felt wrong. I mean... I already feel embarrassed enough when I ask for a massage.”

“Why is that, Twilight?” I ask, scooting closer and draping my wing over her back. She immediately leans into my side, seeking comfort like she always has, even though our relationship has changed. “You are a beautiful mare, and when done by a professional preening and massages aren’t all that dissimilar.”

“They are,” she insists. “Preening is...” The blush returns, reaching all the way up to her ears which flatten against her skull when I plant a kiss on the closest one. “I said I read a chapter. But there is an entire book, several in fact, about the... uhm... sensual applications?”

Her embarrassed, coy, way of putting it makes it sound more like a question than it actually is. I can’t help but smile in spite of her bashfulness. “You mean sex?”

She nods mutely.

“Exactly how does that differ from a massage?”

"Well, massages are much less intimate for one, and you can be good at giving massages without any training. Spike is actually very good at it, even though he's never read a book on them. It’s the claws, he can hit the knots a little easier..." She always rambles when she's nervous, and today is no different. I let her ramble on for a while but inevitably, she finds a way to make a comparison between preening and her own actions in an unfavorable fashion. It’s something she does with frightening ease. “—So while I can’t exactly massage myself, isn’t asking to be preened in a spa basically an admittance that I can’t take care of myself?”

I give her a squeeze with my wing and give her a gentle nudge at the same time. Often times, she just needs somepony to tell her how silly she is being, and right now, that’s me. "Tell me, Twilight. Can you comb your own mane?”

“Well, of course, but I don’t see—”

“Yet they offer mane styling products and services at the spa, correct?”

“Yes, but—”

I lean in and nip at the closest of her ears, which satisfyingly makes her stifle a yelp. “Shush. You worry too much, Twilight. Of course you can take care of yourself.” I indicate the pile of feathers with my horn. “Even if you don’t always do so when you should.” I give her a gentle nuzzle before continuing. "Now you know that both massages and preening can be used to great effect in the bedroom, yes?"

“Of course I know that!” she replies hotly when her wings disobey her once again, the one against my side flexing several times while she struggles to regain control over them. “The Kamare Sutra has several chapters devoted to different styles of massages, complete with sensual oils, and hot rocks, and... and...” She turns red enough to make tomatoes jealous. Oh my precious Twilight, you are too adorable for your own good sometimes.

“Exactly. And if you can still ask for a massage, what is it that makes preening so very different?” My question is right on the mark and she winces.

“Well...” she pouts at me, as though begging for me to understand what she’s about to say. “I know how a massage is supposed to feel, and I know what spells feel like when I cast them, but these...” She flutters her wings for emphasis. “Everything about them feels... weird.”

“Describe it to me, if you can.”

“It’s like... hitting your ulnar nerve. Everything tingles, and it can be extremely ticklish at times... although I guess what you were doing felt kind of... nice...”

I chuckle. “For some the ticklishness is a feature. One you never hesitate to use against me,”

“It’s not the same.” Twilight replies, her pouting becoming more pronounced. “You were born with yours. They’re as much a part of you as your hooves, or your horn. Mine just kind of... happened. I don’t even really know how I feel about that— them.”

I can’t take the sight of her half preened wing anymore, and apply just enough force with my magic to push her over onto her side, sneaking in a kiss before I get started. “Would you rather not have turned into an Alicorn?”

“Hmmm...” With the way her brow furrows, it’s almost too easy to believe that her answer will be in the negative, and if that turns out to have been a mistake... I begin preening her, even if my focus has shifted from ‘helping Twilight’ to ‘keeping myself busy so I won’t think about the worst possible scenario’. If it was a mistake, how much more likely is it that Twilight considers our relationship to be—

“No,” Twilight says, interrupting my thoughts. “I do like it. It’s been amazing learning all sorts of new things, and seeing things from a different point of view...” her sentence peters out and she coos softly when I smooth over an imperfection in her wing. “Quite literally, actually. Did you know that I’ve grown two inches in the last month alone?”

The relief at hearing that she doesn’t consider it a mistake is tainted by another sort of tension in my gut. I know. Mostly because I’ve been admiring Twilight’s more... ahem... exciting features for those last couple of months.

They too, have become... more pronounced and have given Twilight a more voluptuous appearance in every appreciable way. Of course, I’m not about to let her know where exactly I’ve been looking. “Yes I did,” I reply matter-of-factly. “Just like I noticed when you cut your mane to make it seem as though your horn had grown during puberty, or that you stopped maintaining your fetlocks for a month in an attempt to appear more mature when you tried to impress me...”

A fit of giggles overcomes me when she picks up a pillow and hides her face behind it. “I liked the way you looked, by the way.” I stroke the sensitive area between Twilight’s wings, trying to help her relax. “I wouldn’t worry too much about how you’re adjusting to your wings. You were never anywhere near as bad as Cadence was when she got her horn.”

That catches her attention and the pillow shifts just enough to let her look at me with one eye. All of her embarrassment goes forgotten in favor of an incredulous look from that eye. “Cadence? She would never—”

“No?” I interrupt her with a smirk. “After she ascended, I brought her back to the castle. She went through this ‘existential stage’ where she only ever wore dark colored dresses, enough makeup to primp three mares, and wrote horrible poetry. Apparently she got this idea into her head that royalty was supposed to suffer from ennui.”

“Really?” Twilight’s disbelief is palpable, and when she looks at me again her expression is one torn between a peer—trying to ascertain if I’m telling the truth—and shocked denial.

I nod for good measure. “Really. Not only that, but a few months after she moved into the castle, almost all of the maids in the castle were pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” Twilight goes from shock, to confusion, to bemusement, and then back to shock. The pillow vanishes, carelessly tossed away by Twilight’s magic. “How... what did she—”

“Uncontrolled love magic,” I reply. “Believe it or not, she wasn’t always as proficient or sparse with her magic as she might seem. I sent her to school after that. The pep squad adopted her straight away, did her a world of good.”

“And what about you?”

Drat. Of course she would ask about that. “What about me?” I ask her, hoping to avoid the issue altogether.

“Did you take anypony to bed because of her?” There is suspicion in her voice, though not as much as in the look she’s giving me. Already she’s wondering if I have children running around someplace. Fortunately, the answer to that is a definite no.

“No, I did not,” I reply, straight-faced. “As an age old Alicorn I enjoy some much needed self-control... although that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t tempted.” Twilight’s ears, which had already perked up when I began my tale on Cadence, only seem to grow longer in my mind. There’s no way they really could be. “I did have... an accident,” I tell her at length before quickly moving things along. No reason to bring up embarrassing situations several decades into the past is there, right? Right. “But that isn’t important.. We were talking about you.” I boop her on the nose with a hoof before giving her chaste kiss on the lips. Such a simple gesture, yet it makes my heart overflow, and I can’t help but tease her a little more, letting the kiss linger to the point where Twilight falls forward when I withdraw. It leads to her looking indignant, of course, but if I didn’t act on my feelings from time to time, I’m afraid I might explode.

Eventually, she relents. “I guess we are... but I want to hear about it at some point.”

Rather than using her indignation as prelude to another round of teasing, I pluck one last feather from her wing before gently putting it back at her sides. It’s still not perfect, but right now the symbolism feels more important than any action. In that same vein try to condense all of the love and respect I have for her into a single look, and ask, “Twilight? Will you let me make love to you?”

Author's Notes:

Remember that mature story I said I'd write in my blogpost? Well this is just the start.

I hope you all enjoy it.

Alternate Title for this Chapter is: Lethargic Princess