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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not now, okay? Heavens above!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh for heavens' sake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you mean by that?"

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

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

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

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

It is truly beautiful.

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

An enviable position, the princess has to admit.

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

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

Silence reigns, for a very long time.

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

"Well?"

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

"Perhaps."

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

"I..."

A pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The specter's shape blurs again, recoiling.

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

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

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

"We must speak, sister."

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

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

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

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

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

"It has been months, sister."

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

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

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

"Is that so?"

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

There is a pause.

"I did not deserve that."

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

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

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

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

"Truer words have rarely been spoken."

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

Celestia stiffens, cursing herself internally for doing so.

But she stiffens nevertheless.

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

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

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

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

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

Was...

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

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

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

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

The last sign.

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

In Ponyville. Twilight's home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

"Of what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then she is gone. Truly gone.

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

The princess closed her eyes to the world and sighed.

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

And frankly, she was tired of it.

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

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

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

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

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

But Luna was Luna.

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

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

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

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

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

It was just a memory.

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

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

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

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

Dear Princess Celestia,

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

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

Something's happened to Twilight

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had to happen someday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sex coma?

Somehow the possibility had not come up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cheerilee merely chuckles weakly in response, eyes wide.

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

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

"Uh, yeah," Cheerilee manages.

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

Celestia is already halfway into the library.

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

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

Something about that nags at Cheerilee, too.

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

Don't take it personally.

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

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

"Are you coming, Cheerilee?"

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

This is my place!

"Right behind you. Sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The princess reaches the bedroom door and –

And just opens it.

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

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

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

In memory, Rarity gives her an impatient look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know something you don't know...

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

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

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

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

So that's where Twilight learned how to lecture.

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

"Oh, my..."

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

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

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

"Uh... well..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A constant battle of attrition."

"I believe it."

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

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

Okay. Relax. You can do this.

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

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

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

It's weird.

Enviable, sort of, but... weird.

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

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

"Oh, er... really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Celestia stares at it, for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was the bell... that old?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cheerilee's heart throbs.

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

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

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

"Oh?"

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

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

But she needn't have worried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The princess pauses, head raised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, that was... awful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

New.

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

They didn't feel good.

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

Princess Celestia just showed up for her.

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

She'd kissed one of the princesses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're something way beyond me, Twi.

It's really starting to show.