Trixie paced back and forth through the vastly empty tree castle of the Princess of Friendship.

Back and forth. Forth and back her pacing went. So much so that she would have worn into the crystal floor a rut if not for the fact of its crystalline structure.

Instead, her hooves kneaded consternation and apprehension through the agency of every clip-clop tinctured with poorly-concealed anxiety.

And through the years of her moral journey to redeem herself, that showmare’s veneer once ingrained so deeply into her mien had been humblingly abraded to a thin filament beyond recognition. So much so, in fact, opined Rarity, every movement seems filled with overt intent. Obvious may her anxiety be, Rarity struggled to diagnose an exact prognosis for her fellow unicorn’s malaise.

“So I take it your surprise reentrance didn’t go well with Twilight?” She asked from her seat at the Cutie Mark Table.

Trixie didn’t have time to answer. Or more accurately, decided not to as her anxious glance was repurposed to stare in the direction of the coincident humm of the portal Trixie had just left herself a few minutes ago.

In an effulgent flash, Twilight Sparkle appeared in the room with a distant look in her eyes. She stood there for a second— like the wind could topple her through a single breeze— then steeled herself and sallied forth with the incisive solemness that bespoke her sovereign divinity.

Trixie looked on, mortified as Twilight Sparkle approached her and the world awaited her with bated breath. The unicorn sunk to the ground in deference, timorous shakes came unbidden. “Twi—I mean, Princess Twilight! Please forgive my rash actions, confessing to you like that. I should never even have thought to do such a thing. I had no idea that you—"

She was stifled, cut off by the gavel that silenced the jury and transcended all decorum. “Be still, my little pony.” She paused and smiled, a small glimpse of the sunshine passed through a dour sheet of clouds. And that light was melancholic-- undeniable-- and yet the meaning of life is still ambiguous. "I gladly reciprocate your feelings."

In a sudden apparent about-face, Twilight pulled Trixie in with the hoof she used to quiet the qualing unicorn, kissing her on the lips apathetically and lethargically commensurate of that indifference. Rarity had to cover her mouth to prevent herself from squealing like a schoolfilly. As she pulled away, Trixie dazedly looked at her and the look of drunken happiness shifted to one of bemusement. “But what about what I saw between you and…”

There was an echoing gulp.

“Him.”

“Who?”

“Him. The one I saw in the alternate world.” Who? Spike? Is he not a dog there?

“What about him?”

“Why do you just forget about him? Like he never happened?” Her countenance morphed completely now to anger and her voice inexplicably rose. “I thought you loved him!” Wait, what?

Twilight clenched her eyes and turned forcedly. The slightest nerve impulse shook her lip yet her discourse remained ambiguous to Rarity. She looked back at Trixie whose lower lip had reverted back to jutting out loosely. The alicorn’s bare words were an emotion-bereft wraith. “But that militates nothing. Consider this: My college friend is a psychology major and writes to me from time to time. She shares with me her ideologies and a question bandied about is, "If an all-around perfect pers-- pony spends her life solely contributing positively to ponykind and never hurts anypony, would it matter if she were a voyeur in her dreams, torturing ponies-- likely figments of imagination-- when she knows it isn't right, where no one else is affected? Is she required to maintain her morality when that immorality has no forseeable after-effects?”

Trixie thought about the proposed question and bit her lip. She shook her head, looking ashamed. “No. Her innocence shouldn’t change if nothing in the world we know— or anyone knows— actually changes.”

“Good.” Twilight kissed her again and smiled. It was genuine yet tenuous. She turned to the door and motioned for Trixie to follow her out. The mare in question acquiesced, a thrall to her majesty. Yet Rarity still had to know one more thing.

“Wait!” Rarity called out to the departing couple. “What about ‘him’?”

Trixie stopped to look at Twilight, who shook her head as she continued to trot away. Trixie looked back at Rarity with a mask of seriousness to cover her former ingenuity. "Some things are fain to be left unsaid."