+++
title = "Twilight Scepter"
names = ["KrishnaKarnak"]
date = "2014-01-30 00:36:54"
tags = ["F/f", "cane", "over bed", "semi-consensual"]
spankers = ["Velvet"]
spankees = ["Twilight"]
posts = [""]
+++

>So, you're Twilight Velvet.
>You're like 35, or something.
>You're a well-to-do Canterlotian Noble.
>You absolutely wrote the Daring Do books, yep, because Daring Do isn't real at all, nope.
>Your son is a high ranking Royal Guardsmen.
>Your husband is a banker with connections to the Mi Amore's, who govern the most prestigious universities this side of Vanhoover. Your families are so close that their daughter used to foalsit your daughter Twilight Sparkle for you.
>Speaking of, your daughter is Twilight -freakin'- Sparkle, perhaps the most gifted unicorn born in years.
>Star pupil of Princess Celestia, herself, top of Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns...
>All in all, you're doing good for yourself.
>You're sitting at home.
>Sipping you lemon chamomile tea.
>In your favourite chair, relaxing by the fireplace, legs crossed, with a notepad sitting on your thigh.
>You want to write, but there's so much on your mind.
>Unfortunately, not everything is perfect in your perfect little life.
>Your husband's own projects and ambitions often make him distant as he tries to expand the family-owned banking business.
>You got one hell of a writer's block currently.
>Your last book, Daring Do and the Tomb-Raider of Gymkhana didn't do very well in stores and was a critical dud in reviews.
>You believe your son is sexually active.
>Your daughter's habits are once again causing problems.
>You can resolve these issues, maybe.
>Gotta get over your writing block and take the proper time to flesh out the next story. You're a fantastic author.
>You can talk to your husband and see if the pair of you can't reach an agreement in how he handles his workload. He respects your wishes and desires.
>Your son is bangin' Cadance, and you approve of her! But, in order to make sure Shiny doesn't do anything stupid and end up with a foal before his military career takes off, you resolve to smack him over the head with a broom and buy him a box of condoms, telling him to be careful. He listens to you.
>You can talk to your daughter until you're blue in the face, though. She's stubborn.
>You'll need to try something else.
>Something drastic.
>Too bad you have no idea what!
>It's been a long, long time since you had a kicking little Twily over your lap.
>Squirming her butt back and forth, trying to dodge your hairbrush.
>Bawling her little eyes out.
>The thought of giving her such a punishment again has crossed your mind every time you think about her recent actions.
>She might still live at home, but she's still your responsibility; if she's not going to take care of herself, you have to step in.
>But she's gotten way too big to sensibly take over your knee.
>It would be wrong to give a fourteen year old a spanking, anyway.
>But these habits still have to stop! They're very self-destructive.
>Maybe you can try talking to her again?
>Finishing off your tea, you levitate the cup, saucer, and notepad onto a nearby table and get to your hooves.
>Straight up the spiral staircase.
>You reach her room, and glance at the rather pompous little sign on the doorway.
>It's neatly lettered by hoof.
'Do Not Enter
Without the Express Permission of
Princess Twilight Sparkle'
>You give a little smile. Twilight wrote that when she was just a little filly and wanted to grow up to be a princess, just like Celestia.
>Such a wild imagination...
>You rap your hooves against the door.
“Twily? Can I have a word, sweetheart?”
“Mm... hmm...”
>Her reply was very muffled. You can hear her scrambling around, moving things, trying to make her way to the door.
>You listen with faint amusement as she spends twelve seconds unlocking and unbolting every single lock.
>The door swings open and you're greeted with the sight of your baby girl.
>Not so baby now, mind.
>Oh, boy, she looks annoyed!
>And tired. Her mane is very dishevelled and she's got bags the size of bits under her eyes.
“What?!”
>You resist rolling your eyes. It's hard.
“Can I come in?”
“Well... I SUPPOSE!”
>Clearly, she's upset that you're bothering her.
>You enter the bedroom.
>Stretching out before you is the treacherous labyrinth of Twilight Sparkle's bedroom.
>There's books everywhere!
>In piles, in stacks, stacked against walls, on her bed, on her desk, on her window sill.
>Tonight, on A&E's Hoarders...
“Hello, Mrs. Sparkle!”
>You catch sight of Spike the dragon scrambling to the top of a teetering tower of heavy tomes about trigonometry and tricky spells.
“Hello, Spike. Can you excuse us for a few minutes?”
“Uh...”
>Spike looks to Twilight.
>You expected this; he only listens to her, really.
“Go ahead, Spike.”
>Twilight doesn't sound totally thrilled about sending off her assistant.
>As Spike leaves, you catch Twilight glaring at you. She's really, really not happy that you're interrupting her.
>With a heavy sigh, you let loose a stream of magic and seize around eighty books, arranging them into neat, even rows and lining them off against the back wall, wherever there's space.
>You've cleared a path to the bed and moved the books there, too.
>Twilight is furious.
“I HAD THEM SORTED BY THEIR INDIVIDUAL SUBJECTS, AAAND SUBJECTS THAT ARE CLOSELY AFFILIATED WITH ANOTHER!
>She tries to counter your spell with her own.
>You should stop her from doing this, since her magic is a hell of a lot stronger than your own.
“Twilight Sparkle, please!”
>She desists at the use of her full-name.
>You always called her by her full-name whenever there was something wrong.
>Twilight lets out a sigh.
“Sorry, sorry...”
>She shakes her head, still unable to stop glaring at you.
“What is it, Mom?”
>At least her voice is kinder. You can tell by the way her eyes are navigating to the floor that she feels guilty for getting mad with you.
“I just want to talk, Twily.”
>You sit down on the bed and pat the spot beside you.
>Twilight moves forward and sits down beside you.
>You throw out your right hoof and drape it around her shoulders.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
>Twilight rolls her eyes.
“I'm fine, Mom.”
“You know, Twily...”
>You frown at her.
“I could do without getting an attitude from you. You are a very respectful filly, so I would appreciate it if you didn't talk to your mother like she's a school rival.”
>Bam! You can tell by her expression that those words stung.
>She stares at her lap for a moment, rubbing her forelegs against one another uncomfortably.
“I'm... I'm sorry, Mom.”
>You pull her a little closer and nuzzle her head with your own.
“I know you sometimes forget yourself when you're under a lot of stress. That's why I'm up here.”
>Twilight pulls away and cocks an eyebrow at you.
“Come on, Mom... not this again!” 
>She's got a point, though. You've certainly been through this with her before.
>Doesn't mean you're not gonna try again, mind.
>Twilight gets off the bed and starts to stroll away, nose in the air.
>Nope. If she's going to throw a hissy-fit like a tenacious child, you'll treat her like one.
>You grab her ear with a pulse of magic, seizing it in a small levitation field.
>Before she can resist it with her own spells, she's dragged back to the bed and practically thrown over it.
>She struggles into a more dignified sitting position, the anger back in her eyes.
>You stand up, glaring down at her yourself.
>You keep the magic tugging at her ear, ensuring her undivided attention.
“Twilight Sparkle, enough is enough!”
>Twilight folds her hooves.
“Mom, don't you get it? I need to—”
>You cut her off swiftly.
“Twily, don't YOU get it? Don't you understand what you're doing to yourself?”
“Mom, I don't know what you're talking about.”
>She's being stubborn again.
>No more pretence.
“Look, Twilight! You spend all day with your face buried in those books. I know your studies are important. I know they're important to you and I know they're important to your courses with Princess Celestia, but...”
“But 'what', Mom?!”
>You sigh, feeling the temper already draining out of you. You give her a very pleading look.
“Twilight, it's not healthy. You don't eat some days. You barely sleep. You're just stuck up here, studying day and night. I've seen the tasks and tests the Princess sets you, so I know you don't have to push yourself so hard.”
“This is my decision, Mom! I want to learn everything I can about magic... I want to show Princess Celestia how dedicated I am.”
“What you're doing is dangerous, sweetheart!”
>Before you realize it, there's tears in your eyes.
“Mommy's looking out for you. You need to take care of yourself, too! Your studies can still be just as important as long as you take the time to eat and sleep properly. Take a walk sometimes, too... your fur is bound to start blanching.
Twilight groans.
“That's not how fur pigmentation works, mother...”
“That's not the point, Twily... you need to help yourself.”
“Spike helps me. He's a fantastic assistant! He lets me focus entirely upon my studies, and—”
“Enough.”
>You release the hold on her ear.
>You're done here, you think.
“We're just going to start going in circles. I didn't enrol you into that school for you to die of malnutrition and sleep deprivation. I'm going to write to the Princess and put a stop to this.”
>Twilight's eyes widen.
“Mom! No, please! You can't! Th-this is my life! It means everything to me!”
>You give her a pained look.
“You mean everything to me...”
>Twilight is panicking now.
“Look, I'll get Spike to help me sort this place out! If it's more organized, I can be more productive, I'll get through twice the books, I'll learn twice the magic, I'll sleep twice as much and start snacking! Deal?”
>Your turn to cock yourself some eyebrows.
“Twice the sleep, hmm? Forty minutes a day instead of twenty? Hardly an improvement, Twilight.”
“Please, Mommy!”
>Been a looooong time since she called you that.
“Please! Don't take me out of school!”
>You didn't notice that she had been crying.
>You give her a long, searching gaze. You don't know what to do.
>She gives you such a mournful look. You can't take the school away from her, you'll do far more damage to her that way than what she's already doing to herself.
>Perhaps the time has come to default to the old plan you and your husband had decided upon when Shining Armor was born?
>You know Night Light still has it.
>He wouldn't be happy that you used it, but he's not here to consult.
>You pray your husband will understand.
“Twily... I need sometime to think this over. I'm going to ask Spike to leave for tonight. Is that alright with you?”
>Twilight looks confused, but she's too scared to put up a fight. She nods.
“Of course...”
>You turn your back on her and walk out of the room, already battling with yourself.
>You find Spike sitting on the bottom-most step, respectfully choosing a distance where he couldn't eavesdrop.
>You descend toward him.
“Spike, uh... are you able to spend tonight someplace else?”
>You wouldn't want to send a baby dragon off if he had nowhere safe to sleep.
>He frowns, looking confused.
“Yeah... I have a spot I sleep whenever Twilight is at the school, studying overnight.”
>Your eyes widen.
“Twilight spends nights at the school?”
>Spike slaps a claw to his forehead. You don't think he meant to tell you that!
“Y-yeah... Twilight pulls all-nighters there, sometimes...”
>You close your eyes for a moment, trying to keep it all together. You knew she didn't sleep very often, but you at least thought those nights where her bedroom was silent meant that she was passed out from exhaustion, or something.
“Would you be party to sleeping there, tonight? I will look after Twilight myself. She has already consented. You can return first thing in the morning, if you wish.”
“Sure, absolutely.”
>He still looks a little confused, but any worry he had at the decision to send him off left his face when she said it was alright for him to come back in the morning.
>He nods, got to his feet, and scampered up the steps. You could hear him shouting a hearty 'See ya, Twilight!'.
>He rushes back down the stairs, gives you a brief salute, and strolls toward the door.
>Something tells you he's looking forward to a goodnight sleep. Maybe Twilight keeps him up from time to time?
>You stand there at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the front door, long after Spike had already shut it behind him.
>You know what to do.
>The only reason you're second-guessing your course of action is because you're hoping the fear of being withdrawn from school will frighten Twilight into taking better care of herself.
>But there's just no guarantee, nor do you want to resort to fear tactics.
>You need to be sure.
>You need to be sure...
>You climb the stairs, turn away from Twilight's end of the hallway, and move toward the master bedroom.
>You walk swiftly from one end of your room to the door at the other end, leading to Night Light's study.
>You enter it and move to his desk.
>You pull out the bottom drawer all the way.
>There it is, hidden away at the back. You seize it in your magic aura.
>It's a 18 inch, quarter-inch thick rattan cane.
>You had both decided that this was too barbaric to use under normal circumstances.
>Well, these were extraordinary circumstances.
>Twilight Sparkle is too old to be given a spanking over your knee.
>But she's old enough for a caning.
>You close the drawer.
>You leave the study, closing the door.
>You leave your own bedroom, close that door, and stop in the middle of the hallway.
>You're looking at the dark beige cane in front of your face.
>You steel yourself for what your about to do. You hope this will be enough to get through to her.
>But you'll give her the ultimatum, anyway:
>She's gonna need to pick between leaving school or getting the cane.
>You amuse yourself with the idea that Twilight Sparkle would immediately take the cane over losing her scholarship.
>You reach Twilight's bedroom.
>She's still sitting on her bed, legs folded beneath her, face buried in her front hooves. She's shaking.
“Twily, hun...”
>She looks up. She's not crying, but she looks as though she's lived a lifetime of misery.
>Slowly, her eyes pan to the left of you, falling upon the cane still supported by your magic.
>You move it to the bed and deposit it in her hooves.
>Moving forward, you sit down on the floor in front of her, the cane between you both.
“I know you're not a child anymore. And you're becoming a brilliant young mare... but your current lifestyle can't proceed any longer. And it won't. I'm giving you a decision.”
>She looks straight into your eyes, mouth trembling. You can tell that she's fully aware of what a cane that thin is used for.
“You can take a caning from me right now, and every three days for as long as this self-destructive behaviour continues, or...”
>You take the cane away from her hooves, lowering it to the floor and out of her sight.
“You can allow me to take you out of school. I won't make it permanent, I promise, but you aren't going back under the tutelage of Princess Celestia until I'm convinced that you're sleeping and eating healthy again.”
>Twilight simply stares at you for a very long time.
>She wiggles her hooves, silently requesting the cane. You bring it back up and lay it there again, allowing her the chance to take a good, long look at it.
>Finally, Twilight Sparkle holds out the cane and you pick it up with your magic.
>She slips off the bed, turns around, and leans over it. Once she's about half-way across, she folds her hooves under her body and raises her rump.
“Don't t-take me out of school...”
“I won't.”
>Fully committed to doing this now, you stand up on your hind legs. Taking the cane and carefully curling your right hoof around it, you summon over Twilight's desk chair and squeeze it on your left, against the wall, so you can support yourself with the back of it.
>It would be easier to wield with magic.
>But this is your first time giving her the cane. You want total and absolute control over how hard you swing it; you don't know what kind of physical damage this can do.
“Spread your legs a little and keep your tail in the air, Twilight.”
“B-but, Mom...”
“I'd prefer to see what I'm trying to avoid.
>She does as she's instructed and lifts the tail out of the way. You don't want to hit that, either.
>You place the cane against her fleshy backside, trying to decide how best to aim the implement. You want the last third of the length to strike across both cheeks, to deliver maximum sting.
>Twilight stays stiff as a statue, as though braced.
>You're impressed with her resolution; she's making no arguments.
>You also save any proper lecturing for after the caning. You know you're going to get through to her, this time.
>Especially...
>You pull back the cane.
>After this.
>FWIIIP.
>You swing forward with a pretty firm amount of force; the first hit should tell you whether or not you need to go heavier or lighter.
>You connected straight across the dead center of her butt.
>Twilight's whole body flexes from the impact. But, she stayed quiet, head elevated, back straight, rump raised.
>So far, so good.
>You lift the cane off of her, noticing an angry red mark there.
>However, Twilight's tensing up ceased and she's relaxed.
>You're not a fan of going any heavier than something that would leave a red mark on the first stroke, but Twilight remains composed, so you have no problem continuing with the same force.
>No longer hesitating, swish the cane up into the air again, a little farther than last time, and connect with another hard FWIP!
>The second stroke connects high, just across the top of the glutes.
>Twilight lets out a little squeak.
>You leave the cane resting against her for a few seconds, watching your daughter's upper body carefully.
>She's taking slow, measured breaths, and still has her head up, staring out of her window.
>Maybe she's trying to find something to distract her?
>You pull the cane back again, pausing for five seconds.
>She's had two so far... you decide to shoot for twenty and go from there.
>The next hit lands much lower, on the fattest part of her rump. There's a rather satisfying 'THWACK' noise upon impact.
“Aaah...”
>Twilight let out a little hiss. You know her composure is slipping, and it's going to break your heart to continue.
>But thou must.
>Two seconds, then lift.
>Twilight clenches her butt together, in vain.
>You deliver the next three strokes over the course of about 25 seconds, or so.
>You count six individual cane marks, one crisscrossing the other, ruining the otherwise uniform pattern of horizontal lines curving her backside from top to bottom.
>The skin between the marks hasn't yet began to turn pink.
>There's still a long way to go.
>And poor Twilight had gave a little whine on the sixth hit.
>Knowing that you have to keep going, you swish the cane back for the seventh time.
>FWIP.
>It's resting against her upper thighs, just under the fattest droop of her cheeks, vibrating slightly as it finishes transferring all of its momentum into the mark it's going to leave behind on her behind.
>You can hear sniffling. Judging by the way her shoulders are shaking, Twilight is crying.
>You pull the cane back.
“M-Mommy...”
>Her voice is shaking.
“I'm s-s-sorry...”
>She lets out a miserable wail on the eight stroke, kicking out her left leg in a buck.
>By the time she's gathered her strength again, number nine has already landed.
“Moo-oo-oommy! I'll listen to y-you, I swe-OOOW!”
>Twilight throws her head high, mouth open in a quavering whine, before she lowers it to the bed.
>Twilight has told you those words before.
>You need to ensure that, this time, they maintain their authenticity.
>The tenth stroke of the cane meets the sitspot, same as the sixth.
>Both back hooves push hard against the floor and her posterior bounces before you.
>Her tail drops down over her darkening cheeks.
>At the same time, she reaches a hoof back.
“Pleee-eeease!”
“Twily, sweetheart... we have to keep going. Please, now. Move your tail.”
“M-Mommy...” 
>Your horn glows and you lift the tail safely out of harm's way yourself. You give the blocking hoof a very, very light tap with the cane and Twilight throws it back in front of her.
>Resting the cane against her worn-looking cheeks again, you study Twilight's body again, making sure she's got herself under control.
>Ten left, you think to yourself. That's it. Half-way.
>FWIP!
>It's no longer easy to count the marks glowing across those blazing cheeks anymore. The little bit of skin not covered by overlapping stroke marks is growing to a dull pink.
>Twilight buries her head into one of her pillows, crying softly into it.
>Back again for number twelve. FWIP!
>Her rump is weaving from side to side, almost drunkenly.
>She's clenching and unclenching erratically, her thighs shaking, her upper body quaking with sobs.
>THWACK.
>Another hit to the chubbiest part of her butt.
>After a mighty flinch, she falls flat against the bed completely, legs going limp, rump held up by your magical hold on her tail.
>You can hear the muffled crying against the pillow.
>You wait, the cane swung back, hating yourself.
>FWIIIP!
>Her hinds are both kicking out and she's bunching up the sheets between her front hooves, howling into the pillow.
>Six to go. You silently urge your daughter to be strong.
>With a tug against her tail, you wordlessly instruct her back into position, her whole body shaking.
>Yours is starting to shiver, too.
>Number fifteen bites into the undercurve and Twilight lets out a scream of agony.
>The red welts are crisscrossing everywhere, the only single lines that are visible being the three strokes to her upper thighs.
>She's weaving her rump back and forth again, gasping for breath.
“Do your best to keep your bum still, Twily. Mommy's almost done.”
>Twilight chokes out another sob in response.
>Slowly, painfully, Twilight's bottom becomes still.
>Determined to make sure that the pair of you never have to go through this again, not even for a second time, you take a deep breath and deliver number sixteen with more force than any stroke before it.
>It connects so hard to the middle of her cheeks that the stroked area visibly flattens.
>Another loud bawl into the pillow, her shoulders heaving.
>She's stamping her back right hoof against the floor with loud clops, her resistance and resolution to take her punishment crumbling to pieces.
>Seventeen. It's just as hard, straight across the middle.
>Twilight lifts her head and stamps her hooves again.
>She's wiggling her butt in protest, moving all over the bed.
>She's shaking, squirming, writhing, and bawling. Begging.
“M-M-M...”
>She can barely form words.
“Mom... no more, p-please!”
>You swing back the cane, eyes fixed upon the sensitive undercurve.
>Just three more. You're convinced she can take them.
“P-please, I'll be good... I'll lis-listen...”
>THWIIIP.
“MOOOOMM-AAAAAAAAAAH!”
>Twilight reaches back again, turning her head toward you.
>She's a real mess, with tears and snot all over her muzzle, her mane everywhere.
>You keep her hinny elevated and wait for her to move her hoof, looking into her eyes sadly.
“H-hooves forward, Twily...”
“M-M-Mooommy!”
>However, you're adamant. You're going to finish this, you're already so close.
>Just two more, Twilight. You want to tell her these words, but at the same time, you feel that she has to prepare for the unknown.
>After an eternity, she pulls her hoof away, pleading silently with you, staring with those bloodshot, tear-soaked eyes.
>Stroke nineteen cleaves through the air and connects with the hardest whack yet, delivering its vicious sting across the sitspot yet again.
>Twilight screams.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
>She goes limp again. The fight is out of her.
>She turns her face back into the pillow, choking and gasping.
>She bucks once or twice with both legs before they, too, fall flat, the only single thing keeping her butt elevated being your magical hold over her tail.
>You pull back, watching the cane quivering in the air.
>You wait until she takes a good breath.
>Ignoring your own tears, you throw your hoof forward.
>THWIIIPPPPP!
>The final stroke cut deeply into the flesh of her upper thighs.
>Her deep red backside and a sitspot of such deep purple that its darker than her lavender fur writhe as the nerves scream in protest.
>But nothing to the howling of your daughter, as she bawls in one long, quivering note into the pillow.
>You lower the cane.
>That'll do.
>You release the magical hold and Twilight slumps flat against the bead, her entire body vibrating.
>Leaving her to her misery, you leave the bedroom.
>You return the cane to Night Light's study.
>Pausing by the hallway closest, you get an unopened box of tissues and tear off the seal.
>You wait outside of Twilight's bedroom, waiting until you think she's composed enough for a talk.
>She's crying softly now, no longer choking for air.
>You re-enter the room. She hasn't moved.
>You sit down beside her and stroke your hoof along her back in a gentle rub.
“Let it all out, Twily...”
>You lay the tissues on the seat of the chair you brought over to support yourself on and lie down beside your baby girl, extending a hoof across her shoulders and massaging them.
>Little by little, Twilight's sobbing falls to silence.
>Slowly, she pushes herself off of the bed and sits up, lips quivering as she looks into your face.
>You sit up, too, and reach for the tissues with your hooves.
>Pulling one out, you get to work on her snout.
>You and your daughter are quiet as you work.
>A small hoof-full of crumpled-up tissues soon litter her bedspread.
>You seize the next tissue with your magic, leaving you free to talk to her as you dab her eyes.
>Her face is a lot cleaner, now, but still a little red.
>She noisily wipes her nose with her hoof.
>You give a small smile, trying not to roll your eyes.
“I just wiped off your hooves, dear...”
>Twilight doesn't reply, but gives another sniff.
“Now... Twilight Sparkle, I trust you enough to not have to explain myself, but I still want you to hear these words...”
>You use the full-name thing, but you make sure it sounds comforting, not commanding.
“You're still my little filly, and you'll always be, no matter how old you get. I'm not angry or upset with you any longer.”
>Twilight nods quietly as you crumple up another tissue with your magic and examine her face closely.
“I know you like to stay up late hours and study the whole night... even if it involves sneaking out of your bedroom and going to school.”
>Twilight rubs her arm guiltily at these words.
“But I'm giving you a curfew of midnight. I expect you in bed and, hopefully, sleeping. The earlier you're in bed, the less likely I'm going to be to extend the curfew longer than a month or two.
>Twilight takes a deep breath.
“Yes, Mom...”
>You throw a hoof around her, pulling her head close to yours.
>You stroke her mane gently.
“I want you downstairs at breakfast and dinner, every day, no exceptions. No more of this 'I'll eat later!' stuff. Alright?”
“Yes, Mom.”
>Twilight's answer is a little quicker this time as she's fully regained her composure.
“I'm not going to ask Celestia to help enforce these at night... because I expect you're a bit of a hoof-full to her during the days. Am I right?”
>Twilight lets out a quiet, reluctant laugh.
“Yeah... you kind of are, ha! Well, I like to experiment with my magic!”
“I trust you to keep your word to me, Twily...”
>She looks at you seriously, allowing you to kiss her horn.
“I promise, Mom.”
“I don't ever want to have to cane you like some filly in military school ever again. But if I have to give you a reminder of tonight... I will. Alright?”
>Twilight shook her head quickly.
“D-don't worry, you won't ever have to, I swear.”
>You kiss her again.
“And I'm not talking about you misbehaving just severe enough that I only need to take you across my knee for a hairbrushing, either!”
>Twilight rolls her eyes.
“I get it, Mom!”
>You laugh.
“Fine, fine!”
>She smiles, despite her shout.
“You're a good kid, Twily. I love you, don't forget that.”
>Now Twilight laughs.
“How can I forget when you tell me every day? It's not a problem, however, because I love you, too.”
>You give her a tight embrace, slip off the bed, magick the tissues into the air, and move toward the door.
“I think you know what to do.”
>You turn off her bedroom light in time to see her slipping under the covers.
>You hear her wince. She mumbles quietly and you pause to listen.
“Maybe no covers tonight... covers are counter-productive, Twi... Oh, boy, can't wait to see Spike's expression when he sees my flank in the morning... or Princess Celestia's. Or anypony's. Aaah, horseapples...”
>Rolling your eyes to the heavens, you leave the room and shut the door.
“Fix your habits, Twily... but never change who you are.”
>You deposit the tissues in the toilet, head to your own bed, and crawl into the covers.
>Everything's going to be just fine.