When Shining Armor awoke, the world was horrifyingly, brilliantly, unbearably [i]bright.[/i] 

His first instinct was to screw his face up and bury it in his pillow, but he found to his dismay that his eyes weren’t even [i]open.[/i] Trying to hide beneath his coverlet proved likewise fruitless; the sheets were nowhere to be found, leaving the bed as hostile and uncomfortable as Mrs. Prosody’s literature composition class.

Rolling over, Shining tried to magically yank the curtains closed. He managed to grasp the fabric, but opening them, shutting them, and even pulling them from their rods did nothing to alleviate the painful illumination violating his sacred sleeping time. 

Shining’s mouth went dry. It probably wasn’t even morning. This level of discomfort, this atrocity against an innocent teenage stallion—it could only come from the most heartless of villains, the most brutal, callous, Tartarus-twisted pieces of filth—

“Good morning, Mister Shining,” chirped the foalishly high-pitched voice of his tormentor.

“Twilight? What are you [i]doing?[/i]” Shining demanded, forcing open an eye. He shut it immediately afterward. [i]Ow.[/i] 

His little sister’s voice held no remorse, only a sweetness that belied the ruthless determination of her emotionless heart. “I’m just wishing a good morning to my B.B.B.F.F! Aren’t you happy to see me?” The question ended with a bit of a whine. [i]Emotional manipulation.[/i]

[i]Well, it won’t work,[/i] Shining thought. He gritted his teeth as he began blindly reaching for his blankets, sweeping his hooves over every inch of his mattress. 

“Of course I'm glad to see you,” he spat. “What time is it?”

“Exactly three hours and fifty-seven minutes past midnight!”

Shining stopped. “Why are [i]you[/i] up this early?”

A giggle. “I’m glad you asked, Shiny!”

Abruptly, the world went dark. After a moment’s hesitation to ensure this wasn’t a trick, Shining cracked open an eye. 

Just beyond the foot of his bed, perched atop a stack of neatly-folded bedsheets and pillowcases, Twilight Sparkle sat grinning in all her devilish cuteness. Shining narrowed his eyes, but his six-year-old sister merely beamed. 

“So Mister Shining, do you remember where you were at nineteen hundred hours last evening?”

“What?” Shining blinked. “What does last night—oh.”

He groaned, burying his face in his hooves. “I’m sorry I didn’t get home in time to read your book with you, Twi. Really sorry—I asked Cadance out to dinner and then she wanted to see a movie and I completely forgot.”

“Cadance?” Twilight sniffed. “A likely story.”

Shining watched as she mulled it over—while he had undoubtedly committed a crime of the highest degree in the Kingdom of Twilight, Princess Cadance was one of Twi’s greatest allies and most trusted confidants. 

“Fine,” she announced at last. “I accept your apology.”

Shining fell back to the mattress in relief. “Great, Twi. Now can I go back to sleep?”

Twilight frowned. “What? No. We’re going to read [i]Mad Magic[/i] now. We’re almost at the good part. I’ve been waiting for the chapter on magical manipulation of the Nucleus Paragigantocellularis for [i]weeks.[/i]” 

“I am [i]not[/i] reading that at four in the morning,” Shining said flatly.

Upon her stack of blankets, Twilight narrowed her brows. The tip of her horn began to glow. Brighter and brighter it shone, until a small sun seared itself into Shining’s eyes. 

At his cries of protest, Twilight dimmed her horn-light. Jumping onto the bed, she levitated Shining's blankets over and snuggled into them, plopping the book into his lap. Shining opened it and squinted at the page, half-obscured by massive sunspots blooming across his vision.

“I would like to go to Donut Joe’s when we’re done reading, please,” intoned the Agent of Evil at his side. 

“Yes, your highness,” Shining muttered.

[hr]

When Shining Armor awoke, the world was suspiciously, inexcusably, worrisomely [i]quiet.[/i] Cadance’s side of the bed lay empty and cold, and no wailing rang through the air.

Creeping out of bed, Shining tiphoofed over to his daughter’s cradle. Above the slumbering newborn stood his wife, hair painted pastel in the moonlight. Shining moved to her side and rested his head against hers. For a moment, they watched Flurry Heart’s gentle breathing.

“I don’t mean to add any pressure,” he murmured gravely. “But we have to be perfect parents.”

Cadance chuckled. “Well, I don’t intend to be a [i]bad[/i] mother—”

“No,” Shining stressed. “We have to be perfect, Cadance. Flurry Heart isn’t just our daughter. She’s related to [i]Twilight Sparkle[/i].”

Even in the darkness, Shining could see the horrified realization dawn in his wife’s eyes.