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// Dream (Part I)// Story: Winter's Child// by Softy8088//------------------------------//

“There! Did you feel that?” Cadance asked with a voice brimming on foalish glee. Her ear and cheek pressed firmly into the right side of Twilight’s swollen midsection, and her pink hoof traced circles in the purple fur in an apparent attempt to coax out another stir.

“I didn’t feel anything,” an uncertain Shining Armor replied, mirroring her position on the pregnant unicorn’s left. “Maybe she’s just kicking on your side,” he reasoned. “Maybe we should switch pla–”

“There!”

This time, the white pony gasped. “I felt that!” His mouth remained opened in amazement, his head glued to Twilight’s belly as Cadance lifted herself up to face the supine unicorn. The extra-spacious bed they occupied, seemingly made for three, provided them generous freedom of movement.

“So, when did she start kicking?” the enthused young princess inquired.

“Right after I figured out I was pregnant,” Twilight answered, still blushing slightly from the intimate attention her abdomen was receiving. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was hiding on purpose the whole time, and now she knows the jig is finally up.”

A soft laugh tumbled from Cadance’s mouth as she massaged the purple swell, where Shining Armor was still intently feeling for further signs of activity. A sudden perking of his ears and a twitch of his tail indicated success. He finally pulled away, but his wide eyes remained focussed on the mound concealing a brand-new life within.

“Shine? You look surprised,” the alicorn observed.

“It’s... it’s just...” He exhaled anxiously. “That’s a foal in there... a life. I... we made her.” He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s sunk in yet. It’s so... so...”

“...inconceivable?” Twilight finished, winking at Cadance, who immediately got the joke.

“Yeah,” Shining Armor agreed. It took a few seconds of the two mares’ snickering at his expense before he, too, apprehended the wordplay and joined them. “You know what I mean,” he said in mock-defensiveness.

“I do,” his sister admitted. “To actually be bringing a new pony into the world... It’s pretty overwhelming. I hope I can be a good mother for her.” Her expression fell as she finished the sentence. In recent hours, the ‘M word’ had taken on an almost physical weight; saying it was akin to lifting a certain boulder Rarity had once become enamoured with.

“I think you’ll make a wonderful mother,” Cadance encouraged.

Twilight looked up. From the moment the young princess had heard the news, she had been nothing but positive and sympathetic; a source of comfort that even Shining Armor was struggling to match. Indeed, the alicorn’s good humour had rapidly proved infectious to both siblings. A tiny – and increasingly irrelevant – remnant of Twilight’s paranoia was still expecting to catch a glimpse of some hidden anger or resentment in her features, but there was simply none to be found. 

“Cadance, I...” she started, and stopped, not quite certain whether any words would be appropriate to express all that she felt towards this mare. She gathered her resolve and opened her mouth again.

“Thank you.” 

...was what she had wanted to say, with a grateful smile.

What actually came out was:

“I’m sorry.”

The reaction was immediate. “No,” Cadance said, pressing a hoof to Twilight’s lips, “I don’t want to hear that again. You don’t have anything to be sorry for because you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did something wrong,” Twilight insisted as soon as her muzzle was freed. “I’m pregnant with my brother’s foal! That wasn’t supposed to happen. I still don’t know what went wrong. Maybe I didn’t cast the spell properly or there was something we missed, and now I’m pregnant and he’s your husband...”

Her eyes filled with tears. She had thought there weren’t any more to spare.

“...and it’s not supposed to be your problem.”

Cadance shook her head. “Twilight, I love you. Both of you. That makes it my problem. And even if you made some kind of mistake with the contraception spell, I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” She sighed gently, the corners of her lips pulling back to restore the interrupted optimism. “Do you remember what I said once? I told you that if anything ever happened to you and Shining because of your... special relationship, I’d be there to help you.”

Twilight avoided her gaze. “That was if we were ever found out. This is... different.”

“Yes, it is,” Cadance agreed. Her forehoof found Twilight’s stomach once again. “This changes a lot of things. There’s another pony involved now.” She observed the swell carefully, her eyes moving quickly as if already outlining the shape of the foal to be. “I don’t think any of us were really prepared for a child coming into the picture. But some things are still the same: We still have each other.” Her sight turned back to the uncertain unicorn, and she leaned in, almost nose-to-nose, and caressed her cheek with a hoof. “You and Shine – and the baby – have my full support. We’re all in this together. Okay?”

Their eyes met. Twilight could see nothing there but truth; honest and unvarnished. However she was doing it, Cadance wasn’t wavering in the slightest.

She nodded. “Cadance... Thank you. For everything.”

It worked that time – smile and all.

The mares brought their foreheads together, their horns clacking lightly against each other with the touch. “I love you,” Twilight whispered, the choice of words so obvious that to have overlooked it till now seemed absurd.

“I love you, too, my little pony.”

At that, Cadance laid a quick peck on Twilight’s nose. Without giving her an opportunity to answer in kind, she lay down next to her, her forelimb still outstretched as it travelled back to stroking the unicorn’s middle. Twilight didn’t mind – in fact, the action had shed its embarrassing nature to leave only a feeling of pleasant reassurance. Here, in this place, in this moment, she and her baby were safe from all the troubles of the world. She adjusted her pillow, shut her eyes, and repeated the breathing exercise her former foalsitter had taught her.

It was very late at this point. Had the day been normal, Twilight would have had little trouble staying awake until sunrise; the studious mare was no stranger to all-nighters. But the day had not been normal, and her body had filed serious grievances related to criminally-high levels of stress hormones and multiple unscheduled panic attacks. What made it all the worse was that Twilight knew full well that her baby’s condition was sensitive to such phenomena. Relaxation wasn’t just recommended; it was vital.

The young mare’s thoughts were blurring at the edges and the bedroom’s overhead light was starting to irritate her eyes, yet the feeling of sleep was still out of reach.

“Do you really think I’ll make a good mother?” she asked, figuring that the silence had grown long enough and was threatening to become a contributing factor to insomnia. Truthfully, she wanted to hear Cadance’s voice again. “I don’t really know much about taking care of foals.”

“Nopony really does until they have one of their own,” the alicorn replied thoughtfully.

“What about you?” Twilight turned onto her side so that she could face the other mare properly, and in the process brought herself a few inches closer, once more placing them muzzle-to-muzzle. “You were a foalsitter for years.”

The alicorn rolled her eyes playfully at the naive suggestion. “It’s not the same thing. Foalsitting is a big responsibility, but it can’t compare to being a parent. Motherhood isn’t just a job. It’s a life.”

Twilight let out a near-whimper. “What have I gotten myself into?” she lamented quietly. “I don’t have a plan or anything. I didn’t think this through properly at all. Raising a foal all by myself...”

Cadance looked aside for a few seconds in consideration. “It doesn’t have to be by yourself,” she offered.

“What do you mean?”

She gave Twilight a look that was somewhere between timidly hopeful and encouraging. “I mean you could come live with us, in the Crystal Empire.”

The younger pony was taken aback. The idea had not crossed her mind. “Live with you... like, in the Crystal Palace?”

“Why not? You are family of royalty now. It’s a wonderful place to raise a foal.”

The suggestion had obvious merit, and it could be arranged easily. A living situation that ensured both Twilight and her child would be within reach of every resource they needed, not to mention the two ponies who both loved her and understood her predicament completely. “Wouldn’t it be weird?” she nevertheless questioned. “Ponies might start to suspect something with all of us living together like that.”

Cadance had that thoughtful expression again. “I don’t see that happening; not if we’re careful. It’s not as if you wouldn’t have your own room. To anypony looking at us, you’d be the Prince’s sister, taking care of her child with help from her closest family – which would be true. It’s not so strange.”

Twilight futilely tried to find fault with this line of reasoning. There was something about the premise that was making her uncomfortable, but, for the moment, she couldn’t put her hoof on exactly what. 

Whatever the trouble was, Cadance sensed her reluctance immediately. “It’s just an idea,” she soothed.

“It’s a good idea,” Twilight conceded. “It’s logical. I’d have to leave Ponyville and my friends, but I’d get to be close to you and Shining...”

Her priorities needed to be in order.

“...What really matters is what’s best for my daughter.”

“Absolutely,” Cadance agreed with marked conviction. “But you can’t always think through everything logically.”

Twilight doubted that. “I can’t?”

“A child needs love, Twilight, and an environment where she and her mother can grow. If you’re stressed or uncomfortable, that can affect your foal in ways that aren’t always obvious but can be just as harmful as it is to you. A child naturally empathises with her mother; she’ll pick up on your feelings. You need to think of your daughter first, but you also need to think of yourself as part of that. You’re going to be the most important pony in her life.”

She felt Cadance’s hoof abandon her belly in favour of pressing into her chest.

“Trust your instincts. Where do you want to be? What is your heart telling you?”

Perhaps it was the fact that she was so tired and her mind exhausted of its normally-boundless energy; she would never know for certain. Regardless of the reason, she found herself able to temporarily allay her logic and listen to – and clearly hear – the part of her that felt more than thought.

The words came easily, naturally. “I want to stay in Ponyville. With my friends. With Spike. At the library. I want to raise my daughter there.”

Cadance lowered her eyelids knowingly. “Then that’s what you should do.”

And it was settled, just like that. Twilight could only look on in gratitude as the picture of her future came just a little more into focus, thanks to her foalsitter’s expert display of her special talent. It was at times like these she thanked the stars for having two very different princesses to turn to. Celestia had wisdom, but Cadance had advice. Real, understandable, actionable.

Perhaps she had a little more. “Uh, Cadance... Can I ask you about a few more things?”

“You can ask me anything you like, anytime,” the alicorn said as she gently bopped Twilight’s nose with her own. “Aren’t you tired, though?”

“I’m totally beat,” Twilight answered wearily. “But I can’t go to sleep yet.”

“Well, then, what’s troubling you?”

The young mare’s thoughts were a jumble of unfamiliar feelings and half-formed ideas. She tried to put words to what was at the forefront. “What if... what if it turns out that I can’t do it? I try and I can’t be a good mother? What if I have to give her up? What if I have to say goodbye and let her live with someponies I don’t even know and I never get to see her again?” Twilight’s forelimbs instinctively went to her stomach, clutching onto the protuberance as if its contents could be snatched from her at that very instant. “What if somepony finds out our secret and tells the authorities? What if they think I’m an unfit mother and take her away from me? I can’t let them take her... I’m– I’m so scared of losing her, and that doesn’t even make any sense! This morning I didn’t even know she existed and I felt completely fine! And a few hours ago I was ready to... to...!” She grit her teeth to keep from crying. “Why do I feel this way now?! What the hay is wrong with me?!”

“Twilight. Breathe.”

Twilight breathed.

Cadance was hugging her.

She wouldn’t cry now. Twilight couldn’t cry if her foalsitter was holding her. That had always been true, since she had been a little filly. It was some kind of magic Cadance possessed – she could not think of any other explanation.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Now let’s take things one at a time.” Cadance slowly let go, allowing the younger pony to regain her composure as she did. “First: There’s nothing wrong with you. You’ve had a very eventful day, and this is all a lot to take in. But even if you hadn’t, what you’re feeling is perfectly normal. It’s just your maternal instincts taking hold. You’ll learn to deal with them, one day at a time.”

Twilight sniffed. “So... all expecting mares go through this?”

“Well...” Cadance did a poor job of hiding a smirk. “...No. But many do. The point is: it’s okay to feel this way. Second: Nopony is going to take your daughter away from you. You’re a good pony, Twilight. They don’t take foals away from good ponies – not even ones whose parents happen to be brother and sister. If somepony finds out that Shining’s her father, then we’ll deal with it, but your daughter gets to stay with you, because you’re a capable parent who would never hurt her child. Consensual incest may be socially taboo, but it’s not illegal. And polyamory certainly isn’t. There’s no grounds to take your daughter from you. You know that.

“And finally, if you decide – and nopony else can ever force you to make this choice – if you decide that the best thing is to give her up for adoption, then I’m sure she’ll be taken care of by ponies who love her. And...”

Here, Cadance paused, and took on an odd sort of pensive look that Twilight couldn’t decipher. It almost seemed a shy hopefulness. She hesitated briefly before continuing, her voice much softer.

“...and you wouldn’t have to give her to strangers.” Her violet eyes stared directly into Twilight’s own. “It’s up to you, but it if ever comes to that, I hope you’ll consider letting... us... me and Shine... letting us take care of her.”

“You– you’d do that?” Twilight might have been more surprised by the offer if only it hadn’t been so very much like Cadance to say something like that. Coming from her, it was completely natural.

“Of course,” the alicorn assured. “Shine and I have actually been talking about starting a family. We think we’re ready for that step. We were going to try for a foal of our own when my cycle started next year. Of course, I really didn’t think he’d manage to get his own sister pregnant first... Nice job on that, by the way, Shine.” The two mares turned their attention to the stallion, who, all through this discussion, had been sitting at the edge of the bed, listening without making a single peep. He wisely stayed silent in response to his wife’s latest quip, but a pink blush was visible through his snow-white coat.

Cadance chuckled in amusement. “Relax, honey. At least now we know for sure that you’re not shooting blanks.”

Shining Armor’s pink quickly turned into an impossibly bright red. Twilight couldn’t resist accompanying Cadance with a tiny giggle of her own, before turning back.

“So...” she said as she wafted down from the short-lived high. “You’d be okay with raising a foal you didn’t give birth to? Adopting?”

“Twilight, I was adopted. I think I’m comfortable enough with the idea.”

There was no doubt in the young unicorn’s mind: This was a guarantee. Even if the worst came to pass – even if Twilight died – her daughter would have a home. A good home. A future. She smiled at the thought. It was, to be certain, a little bit unhinged for her to be looking on the prospect of her own death with an academic satisfaction, but it was just so... well-organised. The worst-case scenario had been planned for and it wasn’t all that bad. It was neat.

“I want to raise her,” she affirmed. “And I’m going to try my hardest. But if anything ever happens to me...” Her hoof reached out and lay across Cadance’s heart, mirroring the alicorn’s earlier gesture. “You and Shining are my first choice. I’ll make sure to put it in my will just to make it official.” Her brows furrowed. “Which reminds me: I need to make a will.”

The alicorn grinned. “So, ready to go to sleep yet? I can use the Good Night Sleep Tight spell if you need it.”

“Wait, hold on,” Twilight protested. “This is great information. I think we might be on a roll here. Can we keep talking...? Oh, unless you’re tired.” Her ears pinned back. “You’ve already helped so much, I don’t want to keep you up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cadance replied as she arranged a couple to pillows to support her in a comfortable recline. “We have the morning free and I’m definitely planning on sleeping in, so we can stay up late.”

The last phrase reverberated through some of the most pleasant memories of Twilight’s childhood. She laughed. “Just like old times, then?”

“Rules about bedtime were made to be broken,” Cadance smugly declared. With a conspiratorial hush, she added, “Just don’t tell your parents I let you stay up past midnight.”

Twilight’s giggling continued unabated. “I remember that. I also remember falling asleep in school the next day!” One of her eyes squinted in accusation.

Her former foalsitter brushed it off. “Don’t go blaming me, little pony. I didn’t force you to stay up. It was your choice. I was just teaching you about consequences and responsibility.”

All mirth suddenly ceased. It was like a balloon had popped, leaving everypony’s ears ringing against the silence.

Even Shining Armor seemed to have gone quiet... moreso than he’d been already.

A self-startled Cadance looked down guiltily, temporarily leaving her bedfellow to once again hang over a pit of her own failures.

She returned soon enough. “You’re not irresponsible, Twilight.” The alicorn’s eyes were steeled in resolve. “You took all the right precautions. You had the consent of everypony. You were careful. Things just happen sometimes. There’s risk in everything. You’re brave for making the choices you’ve made. You’re accepting responsibility. Shining Armor and I are, too. We’re willing to do anything we can to help. No matter what society says, we know there was nothing wrong with what we did. Please, Twilight... don’t ever feel guilty about being in love.” She looked over to her stallion even as she cradled Twilight’s chin in her hoof. “That goes for you, too, Shine.”

Shining Armor nodded in understanding, then returned to staring intently at nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Cadance said, “for bringing it up. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“No, it’s fine,” Twilight answered softly, her own distant gaze nearly identical to her brother’s. “I’m fine. Can we talk about something else for a while, though?”

“Sure.” Cadance quickly got to work rebuilding an upbeat atmosphere. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know...”

There was a short stretch where nothing was spoken. Twilight was hoping somepony else could direct the conversation, and got her wish as Cadance appeared to be just on the verge of making some new contribution when...

“A name,” Shining Armor said.

His sister and wife both looked to him with surprise.

“I was just thinking...” he explained, “She needs a name.”

Cadance sat up on her haunches. “Oooh, good one. What do you think, Twilight?”

The unicorn likewise raised herself up, rapidly arranging a couple of spare pillows against the headboard so she could sit more comfortably and easily face the other two ponies – something her horizontal position had been making tiringly difficult. “I have no idea. I didn’t even think of that.” 

“How about following family tradition?” the pink mare suggested. “Your grandmother was Twilight Gleam. Then we have Twilight Velvet, Twilight Sparkle, so...” She looked in turn to each sibling. “Twilight... Shine?”

The stallion looked up and away, his eyebrows raised, and his jaw moved in what seemed to be a taste-test of the name.

Twilight Sparkle, meanwhile, was less enthralled. “That’s a little obvious,” she complained. “It won’t take ponies much to figure out who her father is then.”

Cadance’s lips pulled to the side and her lids came down. “You’re being a little paranoid,” she replied.

“I am not!” Twilight whined. “With a name like that, I might as well call her ‘Twilight Shine By Shining Armor Out Of Twilight Sparkle’!”

A pillow suddenly flew into the alicorn’s face, and Twilight momentarily suspected the somepony had hurled it at her. Both siblings, however, had done nothing; it was Cadance herself who had levitated the pillow against her muzzle to stifle an unexpected explosion of laughter.

“And that’s not funny!” Twilight cried. She had simply used proper – if a touch archaic – genealogical terminology to make a very serious point. Her eyes pleaded with Shining Armor for support.

But the stallion’s lips were fighting back a wry smile. “It’s a little funny,” he admitted with a shrug of his shoulders.

Twilight huffed. She noted to herself that her brother would eventually need to pay for this betrayal.

Eventually came right now.

“How about Glimmer Shield?” she teased with an evil glint in her teeth.

Shining Armor’s eyes shot wide open. “No. You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” his sister answered, patting her belly. “I think little Glimmer here will like it!”

“You can’t!”

“Why not?” Twilight’s grin was threatening to split her face in half. “It’s a beautiful name. I’ll tell her all about how I picked it.”

“No!” he shouted.

Cadance, in the meantime, had calmed down and traded in the bulk of her levity for confusion. “Care to let me in on the joke, you two?”

Fear shone through the crumbling walls of Shining Armor’s brotherly authority. “Twilight, if you say anything...”

With not an iota of hesitation, his sister delivered the coup de grâce. “Glimmer Shield was what our parents were going to name Shining Armor before they discovered that he was a colt and not a filly.”

Cadance needed only to look at her mortified beau to confirm the truth of the statement. “Oh. My. Gosh. Glimmer Shield... oh, honey, that is so cute!” she sqeed.

The defeated stallion threw his forelimbs in the air before collapsing into a groaning heap on the bed. His aura ripped away the pillow still in Cadance’s grip and covered his head just in time to avoid the full onslaught of laughter his wife and sister let loose upon him. A valiant attempt to stuff as much of the fluff into his ears as possible to block them out met with limited success.

In the end, the laughter died down, as it always did.

Cadance said something about using her husband’s would-be female name during certain future intimate moments, to which Shining retorted that by doing so she ran the definite risk of there being no more intimate moments between them, ever. Twilight’s external attention had diminished, however, and she didn’t register the full exchange. The memory behind the joke had reminded her of something more serious, and Cadance could take no blame for it this time.

“Twilight?” The young princess was eternally sensitive to the moods of the ponies around her.

“I was just thinking about my parents,” Twilight said, her hoof running idle circles on her stomach. “They’re going to ask questions. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to tell them the truth. I... I don’t want to lie to them.”

“I don’t see any other way,” Shining stated as he sat up straight again and brushed some nonexistent dust from his coat. “Either we lie through our teeth or... we come clean. With everything.”

Twilight took in a deep lungful of air. “‘Mom? Dad? I need to tell you something. Now, please don’t overreact. You see, I’m kind of involved in a secret long-distance incestuous polyamorous relationship with Shining Armor and Cadance. Oh, and we had a bit of an accident and now I’m pregnant with Shining’s foal. Congratulations on being grandparents!’ Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

The stallion was already busy formulating a plan. “Actually, I think mom won’t be so bad, if we break it to her gently. There was one time – you were just a tiny filly then – when I asked her about one of the kids in my school. It’d got out she didn’t have a mom. Just dads. Three of them.”

Twilight hadn’t heard this story.

From Cadance’s reaction, she either had, or was so open-minded that this sort of thing didn’t faze her in the least.

“She was getting bullied by some of the other kids about it. I asked mom, and she told me that as long as a child is raised in love, and her parents are happy with each other, it doesn’t matter who they are, and that there was nothing wrong with any of them.”

“What happened?” his sister inquired.

“The bullying stopped,” he stated coolly. “Because I took care of it.”

“How?” Twilight had a sneaking suspicion that she already knew the answer.

“With a visit to the dentist for a couple of the other kids, and a two-week suspension for me. It was worth it, though.”

“Oh, wait! I know this!” Cadance interjected, “She was that filly you told me about...?”

“Yeah,” Shining Armor confirmed, his mouth hinting at a nostalgic smile. “She was my first real kiss.”

Twilight’s admiration was marred by a smidge of jealousy. She had always known that neither she nor Cadance had been Shining’s first romantic kiss – or first crush, for that matter – but the way his eyes turned all dreamy at the recollection didn’t sit too well with her. 

His wife, on the other hoof, took issue with a different part of the story. “I can’t say I approve of violence, Shine, unless it’s absolutely necessary. You couldn’t have protected her without hurting anypony?”

“I may have been a little rough, but I was setting an example. A deterrent. It saved a lot of trouble down the line. And trust me, there was no getting through to those guys with just words,” he told a still-unconvinced Cadance. “Anyway, the point is: I think mom might be a lot more understanding of... us. It’s not exactly the same thing, but... yeah. I’m not so sure about dad.”

“I think both your parents are intelligent and accepting ponies,” Cadance offered. “I’m not saying telling them will be easy. They may get upset. They probably will. But this is the sort of thing that becomes easier with time. Once they realise they can’t change the situation, they’ll accept it. They won’t stop loving you. Either of you. And once their granddaughter is born, they’ll love her just the same. Maybe even more.”

Twilight nodded. “We need to tell our parents,” she determined. “I hate lying. Keeping a secret is one thing, but explicitly giving false information... It’s so... academically unsound.”

“And what then? Who else do we tell? Anypony who asks?” the stallion questioned. “We’re going to have to lie. Unless...”

The two siblings looked not so much at as into each other. That horrible, bitter lump in Twilight’s throat rematerialised, and she had to force it down.

The knowledge of what her brother was about to say was not frightening because the proposal was uniformly horrible – if it were, it could never be forced on her; she would reject it; fight it. No, Twilight was terrified because the words that came out of Shining Armor stood firmly on the grim, disputed border of plausibility.

“I’ll do it, Twilight. If you just say you want to. I’ll do it. Then... then we wouldn’t have to hide. From anypony.”

What he meant was that they wouldn’t be able to hide. Twilight wondered if he’d truthfully prefer it that way. It was the military wisdom her brother lived by: When in doubt, charge. She recalled that, despite being a model guardspony, he had never been particularly good at stealth. His battles were always fought in the open.

“I could marry you,” he finished.

‘And flip my life completely upside-down,’ Twilight thought. ‘No, that’s not quite it.’ Her life had already been flipped. It was, in fact, still tumbling through the air, its ultimate landing spot and orientation only vaguely predictable, with much risk of haphazard bouncing and rolling and chunks breaking off when it finally hit. Shining Armor was proposing to whack it in midair and ricochet it somewhere else completely.

“But... you and Cadance...” Twilight mumbled. She instantly regretted doing so.

The stallion reacted as if she’d kicked him in his broken ribs, and possibly slapped his face to boot – it was difficult to tell. His jaw tensed repeatedly, and the tear rolling down his cheek spoke of how much of his own turmoil he was holding in – something Twilight had unfairly allowed herself to forget. He looked at his wife. “Cady... I love you so much... I– I can’t expect you... to put up with–”

“Don’t. Even. Think about it,” Cadance cut him off. She made her way over to where he sat, and pulled him into a tight embrace.

The alicorn’s talents were just as effective on the elder sibling as they had been on the younger; Shining Armor’s eyes stopped leaking immediately. He hugged his mare back. “Cady...”

“I’d rather share you than lose you,” Cadance said, a nearly unnoticeable bead of liquid hanging off the corner of one of her own eyes. “I love you. You’ve been good to me, Shine. And loyal, even when I didn’t make it easy.” She withdrew, and pointed a forehoof directly at Twilight, and with such severity that the younger mare flinched. “That is how you stay loyal to me,” Cadance commanded, “You take care of them. No splitting. Understand?”

The stallion swallowed. “Y– Yeah.” He received a kiss in reward.

“If you and Twilight want to get married... I’ll preside over the ceremony myself.” Cadance’s expression gradually brightened. “I... I’d actually like that.”

“Hold on,” Twilight finally interjected. “Just... wait... both of you. Let me think...” A quick massage of her temples helped a bit. “We’re brother and sister,” she stated the obvious. At least it was a start. “We can’t get legally married unless we have special dispensation from the crown. And you’re already married which would make it bigamy, which is technically legal, but then we’d need one heck of good explanation for why you want your sister as your second wife.”

“I think we have a good explanation,” Cadance noted with a meaningful look at Twilight’s belly.

“I don’t think it’s that simple...”

“I can talk to Celestia,” Shining Armor said. “I don’t care what it takes. I can convince her.”

“Me, too,” added Cadance. “But... I’m a princess. Is there any reason why I can’t just sign off on that dispensation myself?”

“Hold on!” Twilight shouted. “Why are you both planning this already?! Doesn’t anyone even care if I want to get married?!”

The two ponies stared at her, stunned, then quickly downcast their eyes and ears. “Sorry,” they said in unison.

“I don’t want to marry you,” Twilight stated simply. She gazed at Cadance, and tapped her chest as way of explanation. “It doesn’t feel right.” Then her attention set back on the stallion. “Shining, I love you. A lot. And... in more ways than most sisters do. Which is fine, because we’ve never let that... sexual stuff hurt us. But you’re my brother first. And marrying you... It’s just not how I picture us together. Okay?”

Her audience seemed accepting enough of this reason, but Twilight already had a full presentation in the works.

“And we need to be thinking about our daughter. About what’s best for her. If everypony knows about us, what will she be treated like?”

“If anyone hurts her...” Shining instinctively threatened.

“You’ll what? Knock some ponies’ teeth out again? Are you ready to do that to foals? Because you’ll have to. Do you even know how cruel kids can be to anypony who’s different? I was teased at school because I liked books. I know three girls living in Ponyville – Cadance, you remember them, they were your flower fillies? – who have serious bully problems just because they don’t have their cutie marks yet. And that one filly you mentioned, with the three dads... well, what about a filly whose parents are brother and sister?”

Cadance sighed dolefully. “Twilight’s right. If this were just about us, we could make a fight of it; try changing society’s attitudes. But I don’t think it would be fair to your daughter. She doesn’t have a choice.”

Shining Armor looked utterly defeated, shoulders slumped and head low. “I– I’m sorry. I just wanted to do something. I thought I... could be... good...” He trailed off pathetically.

The alicorn’s wing pulled him into a sideways hug. “A father,” she finished for him, nuzzling into his neck. “You thought you could be a good father.”

“...Yeah.”

Twilight, at long last, perceived that both she and her brother were in that same desperate, confused state of mind. He was just as lost as she was, and his mind was doubtlessly filled with just as big a jumble of opposing ideas and desires as Twilight’s. He was simply better at hiding it and putting up a strong front. He had been strong for her; comforting and devoted and selfless. Even his offer of marriage was a testament to how much he was willing to give... and give up. 

“Shining, you are,” she stated. She could at least try to return the favour. “You’re the father of my child. You deserve to be a part of her life. And I’m going to make sure that you are. You’ll get to see her, whenever you come to Ponyville. And she’ll visit you in the Crystal Empire. We both will. It’s just that... at least in public... you’ll have to be her uncle. But we’ll all know the truth.”

The stallion nodded stoically, Cadance still leaning reassuringly against him.

“I hate lying,” his sister reiterated, “but for her... that’s what we’re going to have to do.”

Silence.

“Oh, and thanks for offering to marry me, B.B.B.F.F.,” Twilight added, the hastily-constructed smile feeling surprisingly genuine in her cheeks. “I know I said ‘no’, but for the record... I really thought about it, and I could certainly do worse than the one stallion I’ve cared for the most my entire life.”

Her B.B.B.F.F. chuckled. “Well, the offer stands if you ever change your mind. But it’s all up to you, Twiley. If you want me to get more involved with taking care of our daughter or... or just stay out of the way and let you handle things on your own, tell me. I’ll do anything for you... and for her.” 

“Thanks,” Twilight said, feeling uplifted by the assurance. “Still not marrying you, though. Our family may be a noble house, but we haven’t done that intrafamilial marriage thing in generations, and I’m not going to be the one to bring that tradition back.”

“Guess that rules out my backup plan, too,” Cadance said.

Cadance had another idea. Twilight was on it instantly with perked ears. “What backup plan?”

The princess vacillated a little before speaking, trying to sound casual despite being suddenly overcome by a bout of obvious nervousness. “Well...” Her pupils trembled like small animals ready to flee and burrow away from danger. “You could just marry me.”

Twilight’s jaw dropped. Her foalsitter had never been above playing a good joke or prank, but this definitely wasn’t one.

She was serious.

The young unicorn could already sense the blood creeping into her face. “You’d do...? Um... I mean... than– thanks?” She coughed. “You’d do that... to help me with the baby?”

When Twilight looked at the winged mare again, her brain registered a critical mismatch in appearance. The horn, pink coat, and tricolour mane told her that she was seeing her typically-self-assured former-foalsitter-turned-princess Cadance, but the timid way the pony was hiding her furious blush behind her mane, avoiding her gaze, and scuffing her hoof on the mattress reminded her in no uncertain terms of Fluttershy.

So did the voice.

“Twilight, it, um... it has nothing to do with the baby... or, it wouldn’t... really.”

The unicorn had observed her foalsitter get this flustered only once before, and that had been many years ago, when she had been faced with a certain white unicorn stallion for the very first time...

Cadance gathered the wherewithal to look at Twilight again. “If you’d asked me before... this happened... If you’d asked me to marry you, I would’ve said ‘yes’. And... I still would.”

Twilight just stared, convinced that the fur on her cheeks would begin singeing at any moment. What she had felt in Celestia’s presence paled in comparison to this moment.

‘Did... did Cadance just propose to me?!’

She looked to her brother for assistance, but he was just as wide-eyed and slack-jawed as she was.

That reminded her.

She used her magic to close her mouth because the muscles there had apparently mutinied and ceased obeying conscious commands.

“I... I didn’t know...” she choked out at last.

“I know,” Cadance replied, “I wanted to tell you but there never seemed to be a good time...”

‘Wait... so you tell me now?! I’m dealing with a lot of stuff here. This isn’t exactly a “good time”!’

Twilight’s internal filter was still working and she thankfully hadn’t said any of that out loud. “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about... me. I mean, we did sort of have sex a few times, but... you have Shining and I didn’t think it meant... that.” She ran out of words here.

“Sex only has as much meaning as we give it,” Cadance explained, making a gradual return to her earlier self-sureness. “We’ve already been more... intimate... than I had any right to expect, and I never wanted to push you into something you were uncomfortable with, but... I’ve always been open to us being more.”

Twilight needed a drink of water, but in a self-defeating cycle, her throat was in no condition to make intelligible sounds to request one.

“I’m grateful for the relationship we have, and I don’t want us to lose that. Please understand, Twilight, I don’t expect you to marry me. Now or ever. I just thought you should know that... it’s an option.”

Twilight really needed some liquid now.

Much to her bewilderment, a glass of water was placed in her hooves. She didn’t question where it had come from, and simply gulped it down in one swig. “That’s good,” she judged, wiping her lips.

“You’re welcome,” Shining Armor told her.

“Oh... Thanks.”

“Are you alright?” two voices asked her simultaneously.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Twilight’s body slid down the headboard, taking one of the pillows with it, until she was lying on her back again. She drew a hoof to her chest, inhaled, then let out the breath as her forelimb extended out. “I just need a moment. I sorta... found out I was pregnant and had two ponies propose to me today. No biggie, though, right?” She chuckled.

Cadance grew a sheepish smile. “I guess I could’ve waited until morning to bring it up.”

“You think?” two voices asked her simultaneously.

Now that the initial shock was wearing off, Twilight could see the mare’s offer for what it really was: Flattering. Cadance was a princess – a title she had earned, not inherited – was universally beloved by her subjects, and had literally thousands of potential suitors, stallions and mares alike, who would give their left hind hoof for a chance just to spend a night with her, to say nothing of what they would do for the opportunity to wed her. She was kind, caring, helpful, respectful, intelligent, regal and yet humble. And though Twilight’s personal preferences leaned more toward stallions, she had no trouble admitting that Cadance was absolutely drop-dead sexy.

And she had just offered Twilight her hoof...

But the lesson from earlier had stuck: Twilight’s heart wasn’t for it.

“Cadance... I love you. And having a princess ask me to marry her... that’s something out of a fairy tale. But I always thought of you as a big sister.”

Suddenly it hit her. She burst out laughing.

“Twilight?”

“...Which means I must really, really like incest,” she declared giddily. “How else can you explain that I got a new sister and the first thing I did was to have a threesome with her and my brother?”

Twilight’s new sister could definitely see the humour in that. “Well, if anypony asks, you can tell them that I used my secret knowledge of the ways of love to seduce you.”

“The way I remember it, it was more of an accident. And you freaked out for a second when I, uh, you know... licked...”

Both mares now bore indecent grins.

“Maybe that’s just what I wanted you to think,” Cadance retorted as she leaned in, “and it was really my plan all along.”

“In that case,” Twilight’s forelimb hooked the alicorn’s neck, and brought her down for a quick kiss. “Thank you for seducing me.”

“Anytime, my incestuous little pony.”

“I have to say ‘no’ to the marriage thing, though.”

“I know. Don’t worry about it. I already have one spouse, so I’m not that desperate.”

They laughed, and the happy unicorn leaned back, rubbed her eyes, and yawned. “What time is it?”

“Three-thirty A.M.,” Shining Armor replied, drawing out the words disapprovingly.

“Is everypony ready to finally go to sleep?” his wife asked. “Hopefully before somepony else proposes to Twilight...”

“I think I’m too tired to sleep.” Twilight felt a twitch. “And the baby doesn’t seem to want to quiet down either.” She snorted. “Maybe you should sing us a lullaby or something...”

Cadance immediately took in a deep lungful of air.

“No, wait! I didn’t really mean that!”

	“Hush now, quiet now”

“Cadance...!”

	“It’s time to lay your sleepy head
	Hush now, quiet now
	It’s time to go to bed”

Twilight covered her face. “Ohhh, I can’t believe this... I’m way too old...”

	“Hush now, quiet now
	Close your sleepy eyes
	Hush now, quiet now
	My, how time sure flies”

All her resistance being futile, the unicorn capitulated.

She closed her eyes and began to sing, too.

	“Drifting off to sleep
	The day’s excitement behind you
	Drifitng off to sleep
	Let the joy of dreamland find you
	
	“Hush now, quiet now
	It’s time to lay your sleepy head
	Hush now, quiet now
	It’s time to go to bed”

Cadance had turned off the lights as the song finished, leaving only a trace of illumination coming in from the streetlights and cloud-diluted moon outside. Twilight could still see when she opened her eyes, but until they could adjust to the paucity of photons, everything was constructed of silhouettes.

“I’m still not asleep,” she informed everypony, half in victory, half in disappointment.

“But are you ready to go to sleep now?” Cadance asked, her smile plainly audible.

The darkness seemed very inviting. And warm, compared to the fresh snow Twilight knew to be outside. The bed was soft. “I... I think so. Yeah.” 

“Well, then. C.T.S. okay with everypony?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Sure,” agreed Shining Armor.

“Alright. Good night, Shine. I love you.”

Twilight perceived the two ponies’ forms come together, lock muzzles for a few seconds, then release. “I– I love you, Cady. Good night.”

A moment later, Cadance was over her again. “Good night, Twilight. Love you.”

“I love you too, Cadance.”

She pressed her lips against Twilight’s, in a simple peck that lasted longer than a simple peck should – not that Twilight was complaining. It was familiar, intimate, soothing, and just the tiniest bit erotic.

In other words: Perfect.

The young princess lay down on Twilight’s right with a contented sigh.

Shining Armor was next. “Night, Twiley. Love ya. Sweet dreams.”

“Love you, B.B.B.F.F.”

He leaned down, and for a fraction of a fraction of an instant, they both froze, a flash of doubt in the stallion’s eyes that were mirrors to Twilight’s.

It passed, unacknowledged by either party. They kissed, lips shut yet soft and yielding and tender, and held against each other for a few seconds. His hoof brushed behind her ear; hers, down his neck and over his shoulder. Their horns touched.

They shouldn’t have hesitated. This was good. This was right.

The siblings shared a smile and rubbed noses as a little extra before Shining took his place on Twilight’s left.

“Um, Twilight?” That was Cadance.

“Hmm?”

“Can I?” she asked with the anxious hopefulness of a well-behaved filly pleading for a lollipop.

The request was confusing at first. Then Twilight saw where Cadance was pointing. “Oh. Uh... sure. Why not?” 

Cadance moved down on the bed, placing her head level with Twilight’s belly. Her hoof granted it one final, gentle rub. “Good night, little one.” She kissed it with a properly quick peck. “Sweet dreams.”

Twilight wondered if a foal in the womb could actually dream. 

As the sheets drew over her body, she felt herself effortlessly sinking below the surface of consciousness and into the blissful depths of unawareness, the worries and resolutions of the previous day set aside into a messy pile for Future Twilight to take care of. Present Twilight had accomplished much to reduce that pile, with a lot of help – and some hindrance – courtesy of her brother and former-foalsitter-turned-sister, and had certainly earned her rest. 

The project she faced was a long-term one, still firmly in the “gathering requirements” stage.

Submerged in pleasant unconsciousness, Twilight was almost fully lost to the waking world, when, without warning, she kicked back up through the surface, and sat bolt upright in bed. She had an idea.

“Cadance!”

“Huh?” The alicorn beside her stirred. “What is it?”

“No. Cadance.”

On the other side of the bed, Shining Armor also began to rise, his horn softly illuminating the immediate surroundings.

“Twilight? What’s going on?” 

They didn’t understand. 

“No,” Twilight said, “I mean my daughter.” She could see the alicorn’s nonplussed expression clearly now, and suddenly felt self-conscious at what had just seemed the perfect notion. “I– I won’t, unless you say yes, and– and you don’t have to, but... if it’s okay...”

Cadance’s eyes slowly expanded as the meaning sunk in.

“I’d like to name her after you.”

The young princess’s eyes glistened as her hooves stuffed a gasp into her mouth. “Twilight...” she whispered.

“It– It’s just an idea. I mean if it’s weird or someth–”

Twilight was grabbed with forelegs and wings and magic, pulled into an embrace so complete that she almost panicked at the thought of being somehow absorbed by the larger mare. Such fears were unfounded, of course, and soon enough Cadance gently let her go.

“Oh, Twilight, I don’t know what to say...” she said, wiping at her eyes.

 “Just say ‘yes’.”

“Yes!”

They hugged again, and kissed, and laughed, and hugged yet again.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me...” Shining Armor mumbled.

Lost in the moment, Twilight had nearly forgotten that there was a third pony in the room. “You... you don’t like it?” she asked, facing her brother.

“It’s a beautiful name, and I don’t see any problem with it,” the stallion said, looking reproachfully at Cadance, “but you just got a more enthusiastic ‘yes’ out of my wife than I did when I proposed to her.”