As per Request 2
OurLadyOfWires
Uh-oh, better hide those FOALS!
- Joined
- Jan 7, 2024
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You are Stormchaser, and you and your wife are about to go to sleep.
Well, your wife is halfway there, truth be told, the smile she has on her face being the only indicator that she is still somewhat conscious.
But as much as you would love to keep staring at your beautiful wife, you are concentrating on something else right now. Specifically, on her hindleg.
You see, pegasi have very fine motor control on their wings. Some of the bones there can be considered quite delicate, of course, so it's not like wings can be used for all kinds of activities. But, you have learned many years ago, they are exceptionally good for massages. The strong muscles that allow for sustained flight pairing up perfectly with the delicate bones needed to apply the correct amount of pressure at the correct spots.
And Velvet, your dear and sometimes headstrong wife, spent a little too long strolling around today on the Sisterhooves Social. She may put up a front that almost everypony else falls for, but you know better. You can feel it, in fact, judging by the tension that the few muscles that still work on her leg are under.
But you also want her to sleep while you are at it, of course, so there is no need for you to apply too much strength. Just the slow and steady repetition of pressure and release, gently easing her leg into a more comfortable state, working in silence as her breathing grows more and more peaceful.
You have been doing this a lot more frequently, as of late. Not that you mind of course.
"How do you manage it…?" you hear her voice, half a whisper and half a moan, and you look up partly wondering if she is sleep talking.
"What was that sweetheart?" you ask her back, your tone low just to make sure.
"I said, how do you manage it?" she asks, her tone just a little more than a whisper this time, with the telltale signs that she is both nearly asleep and that she is very thankful for your massage.
"How do I manage what, dear?" you gently repeat the question, turning your attention back to her flank with a soft smile on your own face.
"All of it," she continues, "the traveling... the work... me…" you are not sure if she meant to say that last word out loud, but she probably didn't even notice it, "I mean, I was out for two weeks and I felt like I was about to lose it…"
You let out a gentle sigh at that, nothing that she would notice or hear, still with a smile on your face, but you sigh regardless.
You wonder if you should simply allay her wondering, if it would be better for you to simply stop working on her leg for five seconds, and just go towards her and give her a light kiss on her lips, whispering for her to sleep. You know that she will fall asleep right after if you do it, of course, you know her well enough.
But there is no need for you to do that either, and there is no harm in her question.
"Well, it helps knowing that you and Silky are waiting for me here," you answer her.
And you see her give the slightest nod in return, eyes closed and hugging her pillow with one of her hindlegs.
"I can't believe… how lucky I am…" she whispers tenderly, almost as if speaking to herself.
And a part of you melts at that.
You slow down your wings for a moment and take a long look at your nearly sleeping wife.
And you can't help but remember the first time you saw her.
She had always been stunningly beautiful, ever since the first day you met her. At first you couldn't believe that you were going to be forced into an arranged marriage, much less so with a noble family from Canterlot, but any thoughts about going against the idea evaporated from your mind the moment you set your eyes on the beautiful unicorn you were to be engaged with.
But she, for her part, couldn't have cared less about you.
You knew that it wasn't necessary, your parents even told you again and again that neither of you had any choice in the matter, so there wasn't any need for you to put any effort into it, one way or the other. But the moment you saw that mare, something inside of you clicked, as it sometimes does in your life. You knew that you had to, then and there. And because of that you spent every waking moment, every single day of the eight weeks prior to your marriage, since the ceremony's date had already been set for months now, trying to get to know her better.
You tried talking to her, outright courting her, inviting her for a stroll around the city, by carriage or hoof or wings if you had to carry her. You tried giving her gifts, although you didn't know the first thing about what she could possibly like, and despite the fact that buying a gift to a noble mare is exactly as hard as it sounds like.
You tried everything, and you failed, the mare's disinterest in you growing into abject dislike with every attempt. Giving up never crossed your mind, of course, but as the wedding ceremony approached you knew that you were fighting a losing battle.
But still, you didn't know why, but you simply needed her, you needed her to feel about you... the same way you felt about her.
Love works in mysterious ways, you know, and the appearance of a Princess dedicated to that single aspect all but proved to you that love is a force as real as the sun and the moon.
And you are thankful for it.
Your hard work, also, finally paid off. Not in the way you were hoping, or even expecting, but it paid off regardless.
It was three days before the wedding ceremony. You were resolute, and perhaps even a bit grim, as you walked towards your fiancée's room. You had a bouquet of flowers with you, several of them in fact, and you hoped that one of them was of the flowers that she liked.
You didn't even knock on her door, however, before you heard the muffled sound of her crying, coming from within.
The door was locked, of course, but you didn't care. The nearest window wasn't locked, and neither was the window to her own room.
And the mare, the beautiful and cold and elusive mare that you were to marry in three short days, was crying too much to care for your sudden entrance. In fact, she was crying so much that she went towards you and hugged you before you even had the chance to say anything.
She started talking, before you even had the chance to ask a single question.
You remember how she said, crying in your embrace, that she felt like she wasn't even a living being anymore. How her life up to that moment had been nothing but failure and criticism, up to the point where she was finally deemed no better than just an item to be trade off in exchange for something else. About how she said that she felt like she had no one, that she had felt like that for as long as she could recall.
And you remember how you answered her. You gently raised her chin with your hoof, and you said that she had you.
You will never forget the way she hugged you, after that. You immediately knew how scared she was, how alone she was, how lost she felt about all of that. But at least, from that moment onwards, she knew that she could count on you, as a friend if nothing else.
You married her three days later, of course, but you took things as slowly as she needed them to go. You already had your hoofs on the one thing you had wanted your entire life, the thing that you didn't even knew you wanted until you met her, that is. So there was no need to be in a rush about anything else.
You slowly learned about her love for books, and her need to have things in the chaotic mess that she claims to be organized.
You slowly learned about her familial… situation, hearing more and more details as the months went by, piecing together the puzzle of what led her to be eventually married off to you.
And once, only once in a snowy night, she told you about what exactly happened to her leg, and why she spent the following years bound to a bed, with nothing but books for company.
You knew that she was not happy most of the times. You knew that she had a lot of reasons not to be happy.
But still, to this day you are boundlessly thankful for the fact that you are one of the reasons that make her smile. It is your honest belief that, as much as she might think otherwise, you are the one who got impossibly lucky in all of this. You are lucky for the fact that this whole thing worked out, for the fact that she was able to bear your daughter, as much as the loose nerves inside her leg made part of the process excruciatingly painful.
And because of all of that, you really don't mind any of this at all. Not the travels, not the work, not staying up late massaging the unreasonably stiff hindleg of a sleeping mare. In fact, looking at the piece of fine work that she is, you even enjoy that last part. Perhaps a little more than you should, that is.
She always says that she is happy that Silky Stream has your eyes, but every time you look at your daughter all you can see is your wife's smile on her face. And thinking that, through her, she might be having a second chance at being a happy filly herself… well that is all that you really need.
"You know that you are my favorite horseshoe, right?", she asks, suddenly, her voice already droning off into unconsciousness.
You doubt that she even meant to say that consciously, but you don't care.
That is one of the many quotes she uses, from one of the many books she has read. A particular tale about a farmer who was stuck on her mundane life, until it was suddenly turned upside-down when she met a traveling merchant.
But regardless, that is the secret way that she uses, the secret phrase that the two of you share, for her to say that she loves you.
You don't even need to answer her, you don't even need to whisper back your part of the quote, like they did in the book. You don't even need to let her know that you feel the same, because she is already fast asleep and you know that your words won't reach her.
"And you are my favorite horseshoe nail, sweetheart."
But you do it anyways.
Well, your wife is halfway there, truth be told, the smile she has on her face being the only indicator that she is still somewhat conscious.
But as much as you would love to keep staring at your beautiful wife, you are concentrating on something else right now. Specifically, on her hindleg.
You see, pegasi have very fine motor control on their wings. Some of the bones there can be considered quite delicate, of course, so it's not like wings can be used for all kinds of activities. But, you have learned many years ago, they are exceptionally good for massages. The strong muscles that allow for sustained flight pairing up perfectly with the delicate bones needed to apply the correct amount of pressure at the correct spots.
And Velvet, your dear and sometimes headstrong wife, spent a little too long strolling around today on the Sisterhooves Social. She may put up a front that almost everypony else falls for, but you know better. You can feel it, in fact, judging by the tension that the few muscles that still work on her leg are under.
But you also want her to sleep while you are at it, of course, so there is no need for you to apply too much strength. Just the slow and steady repetition of pressure and release, gently easing her leg into a more comfortable state, working in silence as her breathing grows more and more peaceful.
You have been doing this a lot more frequently, as of late. Not that you mind of course.
"How do you manage it…?" you hear her voice, half a whisper and half a moan, and you look up partly wondering if she is sleep talking.
"What was that sweetheart?" you ask her back, your tone low just to make sure.
"I said, how do you manage it?" she asks, her tone just a little more than a whisper this time, with the telltale signs that she is both nearly asleep and that she is very thankful for your massage.
"How do I manage what, dear?" you gently repeat the question, turning your attention back to her flank with a soft smile on your own face.
"All of it," she continues, "the traveling... the work... me…" you are not sure if she meant to say that last word out loud, but she probably didn't even notice it, "I mean, I was out for two weeks and I felt like I was about to lose it…"
You let out a gentle sigh at that, nothing that she would notice or hear, still with a smile on your face, but you sigh regardless.
You wonder if you should simply allay her wondering, if it would be better for you to simply stop working on her leg for five seconds, and just go towards her and give her a light kiss on her lips, whispering for her to sleep. You know that she will fall asleep right after if you do it, of course, you know her well enough.
But there is no need for you to do that either, and there is no harm in her question.
"Well, it helps knowing that you and Silky are waiting for me here," you answer her.
And you see her give the slightest nod in return, eyes closed and hugging her pillow with one of her hindlegs.
"I can't believe… how lucky I am…" she whispers tenderly, almost as if speaking to herself.
And a part of you melts at that.
You slow down your wings for a moment and take a long look at your nearly sleeping wife.
And you can't help but remember the first time you saw her.
She had always been stunningly beautiful, ever since the first day you met her. At first you couldn't believe that you were going to be forced into an arranged marriage, much less so with a noble family from Canterlot, but any thoughts about going against the idea evaporated from your mind the moment you set your eyes on the beautiful unicorn you were to be engaged with.
But she, for her part, couldn't have cared less about you.
You knew that it wasn't necessary, your parents even told you again and again that neither of you had any choice in the matter, so there wasn't any need for you to put any effort into it, one way or the other. But the moment you saw that mare, something inside of you clicked, as it sometimes does in your life. You knew that you had to, then and there. And because of that you spent every waking moment, every single day of the eight weeks prior to your marriage, since the ceremony's date had already been set for months now, trying to get to know her better.
You tried talking to her, outright courting her, inviting her for a stroll around the city, by carriage or hoof or wings if you had to carry her. You tried giving her gifts, although you didn't know the first thing about what she could possibly like, and despite the fact that buying a gift to a noble mare is exactly as hard as it sounds like.
You tried everything, and you failed, the mare's disinterest in you growing into abject dislike with every attempt. Giving up never crossed your mind, of course, but as the wedding ceremony approached you knew that you were fighting a losing battle.
But still, you didn't know why, but you simply needed her, you needed her to feel about you... the same way you felt about her.
Love works in mysterious ways, you know, and the appearance of a Princess dedicated to that single aspect all but proved to you that love is a force as real as the sun and the moon.
And you are thankful for it.
Your hard work, also, finally paid off. Not in the way you were hoping, or even expecting, but it paid off regardless.
It was three days before the wedding ceremony. You were resolute, and perhaps even a bit grim, as you walked towards your fiancée's room. You had a bouquet of flowers with you, several of them in fact, and you hoped that one of them was of the flowers that she liked.
You didn't even knock on her door, however, before you heard the muffled sound of her crying, coming from within.
The door was locked, of course, but you didn't care. The nearest window wasn't locked, and neither was the window to her own room.
And the mare, the beautiful and cold and elusive mare that you were to marry in three short days, was crying too much to care for your sudden entrance. In fact, she was crying so much that she went towards you and hugged you before you even had the chance to say anything.
She started talking, before you even had the chance to ask a single question.
You remember how she said, crying in your embrace, that she felt like she wasn't even a living being anymore. How her life up to that moment had been nothing but failure and criticism, up to the point where she was finally deemed no better than just an item to be trade off in exchange for something else. About how she said that she felt like she had no one, that she had felt like that for as long as she could recall.
And you remember how you answered her. You gently raised her chin with your hoof, and you said that she had you.
You will never forget the way she hugged you, after that. You immediately knew how scared she was, how alone she was, how lost she felt about all of that. But at least, from that moment onwards, she knew that she could count on you, as a friend if nothing else.
You married her three days later, of course, but you took things as slowly as she needed them to go. You already had your hoofs on the one thing you had wanted your entire life, the thing that you didn't even knew you wanted until you met her, that is. So there was no need to be in a rush about anything else.
You slowly learned about her love for books, and her need to have things in the chaotic mess that she claims to be organized.
You slowly learned about her familial… situation, hearing more and more details as the months went by, piecing together the puzzle of what led her to be eventually married off to you.
And once, only once in a snowy night, she told you about what exactly happened to her leg, and why she spent the following years bound to a bed, with nothing but books for company.
You knew that she was not happy most of the times. You knew that she had a lot of reasons not to be happy.
But still, to this day you are boundlessly thankful for the fact that you are one of the reasons that make her smile. It is your honest belief that, as much as she might think otherwise, you are the one who got impossibly lucky in all of this. You are lucky for the fact that this whole thing worked out, for the fact that she was able to bear your daughter, as much as the loose nerves inside her leg made part of the process excruciatingly painful.
And because of all of that, you really don't mind any of this at all. Not the travels, not the work, not staying up late massaging the unreasonably stiff hindleg of a sleeping mare. In fact, looking at the piece of fine work that she is, you even enjoy that last part. Perhaps a little more than you should, that is.
She always says that she is happy that Silky Stream has your eyes, but every time you look at your daughter all you can see is your wife's smile on her face. And thinking that, through her, she might be having a second chance at being a happy filly herself… well that is all that you really need.
"You know that you are my favorite horseshoe, right?", she asks, suddenly, her voice already droning off into unconsciousness.
You doubt that she even meant to say that consciously, but you don't care.
That is one of the many quotes she uses, from one of the many books she has read. A particular tale about a farmer who was stuck on her mundane life, until it was suddenly turned upside-down when she met a traveling merchant.
But regardless, that is the secret way that she uses, the secret phrase that the two of you share, for her to say that she loves you.
You don't even need to answer her, you don't even need to whisper back your part of the quote, like they did in the book. You don't even need to let her know that you feel the same, because she is already fast asleep and you know that your words won't reach her.
"And you are my favorite horseshoe nail, sweetheart."
But you do it anyways.