Welcome to the Club

by shortskirtsandexplosions

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Main 6, Trixie, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Starlight Glimmer, Adventure
Length: 24558

Trixie and Starlight are thrown back in time to the first year of Twilight Sparkle's stay in Ponyville. Fused to the same avatar, they have to play bodyguard to Twilight and her friends while fending off an extra-dimensional threat.

Twilight Sparkle and her best friends are in deep trouble... yesterday.

Starlight Glimmer's been holding onto a secret for a long time now. Her old villainous days of messing with Starswirl the Bearded's spell alerted an alternate dimension full of shape-shifting monsters, and now this malevolent faction from beyond seeks to send their minions back in time to the first year of Twilight's stay in Ponyville in order to consume the magic of harmony. So, to secure the timeline and save the multi-verse, Starlight has devised a plan to project herself back several years and play bodyguard for the Elements of Harmony.

There's only one problem. Her great and powerful best friend steps in during the execution of the spell. Now both Trixie and Starlight are stuck back in time—fused magically to the same physical avatar—with an incredibly difficult mission to accomplish during the first year of Twilight's friendship lessons. Can the two time-displaced mares work together to thwart an alternate dimension's meddling? Or will they fail and hoof the future over to chaos? Even worse—will they get too relaxed with the comforts of the past and miss an opportunity to be heroes?

Credit to KeronianNiroro for the vector
and
Scampy for the edit.

Published 2020-06-27 18:50:05 UTC
Last updated 2020-06-27 18:50:05 UTC

Welcome to the Club

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"Trixie...?"

"Yes?"

"If for some reason this doesn't work out..."

"Don't be silly! The Grreat and Powerrful Trrixie is here to save the day! All days! Besides, we're a team! You said it yourself!"

"Heheh... yes, well... if for some reason Equestria does get lost forever... I will still be your friend forever. No matter what. Th-that's a promise."

"Stop. Worrying. Trixie has got this! Besides, you've explained it all perfectly to me! Just follow the schedule. Be nonchalant. And use your magic where it counts!"

"Heh... at least you've finally started listening to my instructions."

"Will you just relax? Just think of it all as a way to enjoy time together as we never have before! After all, what's the worse that could happen?"

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December 24th, 1000 ME
23:33:27

The date hovered in the air, glowing with a gold brilliance that only she could see. The numbers and characters swam in a circle, slowly rotating like the hands of a clock. In the center, an emblazoned hourglass spun just a little bit faster, almost distracting her eyes from the dreadful ticking of the seconds: twenty-eight... twenty-nine... thirty... thirty-one... ever so icily approaching midnight.

She exhaled heavily. Dull torchlight flickered off her pristine orange coat, and the hint of cold vapors escaped her muzzle throughout the extent of her sigh. Just then, there was a rattling sound. A lock somewhere was spinning, loosening.

Here she is.

The holographic hourglass receded into the mare's cutie mark. The numbers vanished in a blink before they could hit the next minute mark.

I've run out of ideas. There's no escaping this moment.

The unicorn sat up straight on a stool before a cold stone table. Two sets of hoofcuffs rattled, fettering her rear and front limbs separately. Nevertheless, she looked straight forward, her anxious gaze locked on the far length of the room.

It was a cold dungeon—entombed in gray stone. Only one sliver of relief lingered close to the ceiling: a narrow window, barred and thin, showing a cloudy night sky full of swirling snow. No less than six guards stood in a phalanx along the far end of the cell, their helmeted glares glued to the mare seated at the table. Behind these soldiers stood a massive door—the source of the clattering noise.

The prisoner's amber eyes narrowed. She couldn't help but lick her lips in anticipation. An old habit from a life on stage.

At last, the door fully unlocked. Eight more guards marched in, armed to the muzzle with spears and shields levitating with unicorn magic. They formed a tight rectangular formation, protecting something... somepony. At the very front was a familiar stallion, and his narrow blue eyes were the coldest of all, regarding the prisoner with iron-wrought distrust.

She stared back at the Captain of the Guard. Unmoving.

Just then, a regal voice spoke from behind the lead soldier.

“That will be all, Shining Armor.”

He clenched his jaw under his helmet. The stallion stepped aside—pivoting—revealing Princess Celestia in the center of the armed contingent.

“Your Majesty, with all due respect...” He shifted noticeably under his armor. A sweaty gaze darted to and from the prisoner. “...you know what she's capable of. You read the report. I saw what she did to the Vault's Patrol team—”

“I am indeed aware of her capabilities, Shining Armor,” the ruler of Equestria spoke. Her eyes remained locked on the prisoner at all times. “Which is why I know that this... all of this—” She waved a gilded fetlock at the room full of guards. “—is completely ineffective.”

Shining Armor flinched at that. He cast a nervous glance at the prisoner.

Her muzzle formed an undeniable smirk.

His nostrils flared, but the Captain of the Guard stood at full attention before his Matriarch. “Awaiting your orders, Your Highness.”

“Leave us,” Princess Celestia said.

A noticeable shudder rolled through the armored guards.

“Your Majesty...?”

“The only magic that matters now is alicorn magic,” Celestia said, taking a few bold steps forward. She stopped in the middle of the room and spread her wings for emphasis. “Go. Now. Patrol the streets of Canterlot City. I want my subjects gathered here for the festivities to be protected—first and foremost. Is that understood?”

“Loud and clear, Your Majesty.” Shining Armor bowed low. He cast one final glare at the prisoner before producing a shrill whistle. Every guard in the room swiveled on command, then marched out in a solid line. The Captain followed last—

“Lock the door,” Celestia spoke without turning. “Do not open it until you hear me command so.”

Shining hesitated... but eventually ducked out as ordered. The massive door slammed shut. Within seconds, the complicated locking mechanism rattled and whirred and clattered to a rigid stop.

All was silent.

All was cold.

Just a strange unicorn, the Ruler of Equestria, and the drifting snow outside the window.

Breathy vapors slowly coalesced in the center of the room as the tense staring contest oozed on. Princess Celestia's rosy eyes had a fiery glint to them, but somehow—to the prisoner—it wasn't nearly as burning as she expected.

And that's what gave her a renewed breath. She sat up straight, her posture powerful and assertive.

Celestia must have noticed it, for she finally broke the silence: “It is nearly half an hour until midnight: Hearth's Warming Morning.” She spoke slow and steady, like a disappointed parent. “My subjects are supposed to be sleeping in comfort and bliss right now, overlooked by my beloved sister.”

Her wings flexed, maintaining her intimidating presence. She completely dwarfed the prisoner, and the ripple of her mane threw hard colors against the gray stone walls.

“Families. Foals. Friends and neighbors. This is meant to be a time of peace. A time of bonding. A time of reflection on the things of the past that brought us together... as well as the horrors that nearly ripped Equestria apart.”

Don't talk.

The prisoner breathed calmly.

Don't say anything.

She gazed at Celestia, patient. Unmoving.

If... if maybe we just let her ramble on... allow her to get it all out... she might lose patience and continue this interrogation later, buying us some precious time...

“I meant to attend the Hearth's Warming Eve pageant before its completion,” Princess Celestia continued. “My good and faithful student was performing in it. It's the first pageant since the thousandth year return of my sister, and Princess Luna herself was looking forward to greeting everypony after the festivities. Her first public appearance since Nightmare Night in Ponyville.”

The Princess' teeth showed in her next words, and the bars of the window rattled with her righteous anger.

“Imagine my shock when I found out that the very Elements of Harmony had been stolen under our very noses... and an entire battalion of guards ruthlessly assaulted!”

The unicorn gripped the edge of the table with her bound front hooves.

Don't let her get to you.

Just... treat her like all the others.

We're here for them.

All we've ever done has been for the good of all Equestria.

“Are you even listening to me?” Celestia took a few bold steps forward until she loomed above the table. “What is it that you told the Captain when you were captured? That you are Harmony, the Avatar of Entropa?” Her eyes narrowed. “I knew Entropa. She never would have entrusted her power to a mortal avatar. Not by choice.”

The unicorn's ears folded slightly.

“What's that, my little pony?” Celestia tilted her head back a bit. “Surprised that you were caught in a lie? Well, it was a falsehood that you could ever be caught by the guards in the first place.”

Uh oh...

“With the magic you were wielding, there was absolutely nothing forcing you to surrender. And yet you've pretended all this time to be helpless. Why, then, should I believe anything you have to claim about Entropa? Or about your 'royal duty' to the Canterlot Council?” She seethed. “You may have been able to fool my guards, but you cannot fool me. Your ruse stops here.” She slapped a hoof down, filling the cell with a deafening thunderclap. “I want to know what you have done with the Elements of Harmony. I want to know what your intentions are for Equestria and its ponies. And—most of all—I want to know where a pony with your unearthly magics comes from!”

Just... just don't panic. Don't panic.

Uhm... d-don't even make eye contact with her!

This... this...

Th-there's gotta be a way out of this...

The unicorn took a deep breath.

She tossed her mane.

Then, with a smirk...

...she spoke.

“You're right, Princess Celestia, I am not Harmony. I am not a representative of the Canterlot Council.”

Wait... what are you doing?

“But...” Her amber eyes glared icily at the Matriarch. “...believe it or not, I am an avatar of Entropa. Let's not mince words here. The power she had when she left Equestria was no match for a simple translocation spell wielded by mere ponies. So maybe you didn't know her as well as you think, 'Your Majesty.'”

No!

Stop!

Stop talking!

Princess Celestia's jaw hung open.

“Who are you who wears Entropa's colors... her mark... and pretends to wield her essence...?”

The unicorn stood up at the table with a rattle of her chains.

“My real name is Trixie Lulamoon,” she said, then smiled even more. “But you can call me the Grreat and Powerrful Trrixie.” Another toss of her dark, amber-streaked mane. “As for Entropa's so-called 'essence,' there's no pretending about it. You're an alicorn. Surely you've sensed what Trixie can do. Why else did you send the guards away?”

Celestia was actually fidgeting at this point. She took a step or two back, as if the tiny prisoner was pushing her back with each breath.

“After you were captured a few hours ago...” Celestia gulped, avoiding the unicorn's gaze. “...I reviewed the notes of my court wizards. Over the past six months, the leylines of Ponyville have been ripped apart by wild unknown magics. At first, I thought it was my good and faithful student coming to terms with her destined abilities, but... in actuality... all this time...” She pursed her lips. “...it was you???”

“Mmmm. Yes.” The prisoner rubbed her hoof against her orange chest fluff and examined it lazily. “Shocking, I know. Imagine if Trixie really wanted to 'clean house' at the Royal Vault? Where would we all be then, hmmm?”

“Those magic spells in Ponyville...” Celestia frowned. “...they were alicorn spells.”

“So what if they were?”

“The point is, immediately after robbing the Vault of the Elements, the only reason you were captured by Shining Armor's soldiers is that you meant for it to happen.” Celestia fumed. “I want you to tell me why.”

“Or what?” The prisoner squinted casually up at the Ruler of Equestria. “You'll banish me to the moon?”

Celestia clenched her jaw.

Trixie... have you gone completely bonkers?! I know that we've still have to do the impossible, but none of this is helping!

The prisoner looked to the side, hissing: “Hush! We've gotten nowhere until right now! Let Trixie's showemareship lead the way!”

Celestia snapped: “Who are you talking to?”

“Who indeed!” The prisoner waggled her eyebrows, staring Celestia down once more. “You say that you care so much about your royal subjects—slumbering away during Hearth's Warming Eve. But are you prepared to do what needs to be done to protect all of them? Even more of them?”

“If you are attempting to convince me that I should humor whatever mad plans you have for—”

“There's way more at stake than you can even comprehend, Your Majesty,” she spoke in a solid tone. “Trixie speaks of more than Equestria. She speaks of more than even the universe. Or a thousand universes!” Her amber eyes hardened. “More than Entropa herself had the capacity to tackle. So—perhaps—that's why she left Equestria the way she did.” The prisoner cocked her head to the side. “Haven't you ever wondered about it? What exactly it was that she saw coming?”

That did it.

Princess Celestia leaned back in stunned silence. Her wings coiled as she gazed at the floor in deep comprehension.

O... k...

I did not see that happening.

“You should trust your best friend more!” the prisoner murmured under her breath.

I think you might actually have something going here.

“You think?”

Celestia finally looked up. “Okay. I am willing to give you the benefit of a doubt.” She gestured at the prisoner. “If you wear those colors by sheer magic, then that can only mean that—for some reason or another—you are indeed gifted with powers of Entropa. The question is... why?” She slowly shook her head. “There is no history of the Alicorn of Time bestowing her gifts to anypony else.”

“That's because you only perceive history in one direction.” The prisoner stifled a yawn. “Honestly, Your Princessness, Luna's back. Back here. In the present. Are you still so used to a thousand years of lonesomeness that you only look to the past? As in your time without her?”

Celestia's pupils widened. Her muzzle dropped. “But... it can't be. You can't be.”

“And why not?”

“Starswirl the Bearded's spell—”

“—has been improved on by a pony far more powerful than me.” Trixie took a shuddering breath. “And Trixie does not admit that lightly.”

Cute.

“Don't rub salt in Trixie.”

Celestia had begun pacing the tiny gray cell at this point. Her colors dimmed before the cold aura of the snowfall outside as she deeply pondered the given situation.

At last, her thoughts resonated out loud: “Something more than Equestria... Something more than the universe... A thousand universes...” She scuffled to a stop, squinting the prisoner's way. “What sort of a threat would necessitate the removal of the Elements of Harmony?”

“Trixie did not simply remove them,” the unicorn explained. “She repositioned them.”

“Repositioned them?”

“Yes. Trixie merely... put them in a place where they need to be in about...” The unicorn looked at her flank. The cutie mark of a hourglass turned into a spinning hologram, complete with numbers and letters. “... … ...Four months. Twelve days. Six hours. Twelve minutes.”

Celestia took no notice of the cutie mark's magic. “What happens then?”

Don't tell her too much, now.

I don't know how far you intend to go with this, Trixie, but I'd play it close to the chest.

The prisoner calmly breathed. “Let's just say that Equestria will be visited by an old threat.”

“Sombra?” Celestia exhaled. Her wings tightened harder. “Grogar?”

“It doesn't matter. It's just fitting notches onto a clock.” The unicorn gestured with her shackled hooves. “The point is—there is a threat greater than all of the evil you could ever think of. And that's why Trixie is here. And she was doing just fine juggling things so that the timeline could continue as 'normally' as possible, but a few dumb wrenches have been thrown into the machine.” She sighed, slumping back in her stool. “And tonight was the dumbest wrench of all.”

Celestia leaned hear head thoughtfully to the side. “You didn't plan to get found by the guards after all...?”

“Eh. It was unavoidable. Once there was no escaping, I allowed these hoofcuffs to come on. No big deal. Trixie was always meant for the spotlight, after all. But now that she's got the attention of somepony who might possibly understand the scale of what's at stake...” The prisoner scooted closer to the table and propped her cute smile against a pair of bound forelimbs. “Maybe we can make a team.”

We're already a team.

“An even bigger team,” Trixie growled out the side of her muzzle, eyes rolling.

Celestia huffed. “I am going to need more than that.”

“Hey!” The prisoner shrugged. “You want a magic trick? Just go grab the Grreat and Powerrful Trrixie a wand and a top hat and prreparre to be dazzled—!”

“No, I mean...” Celestia moved forward and sat on the floor opposite the table from Trixie. “I need to understand everything about how you got here, Trixie Lulamoon.” Her royal brow furrowed. “And I do mean everything.”

Well, Trix... we've come this far...

“Very well, Your Majesty...” The prisoner fluffed her mane, leaning back into a lazy slump. “...if you insist. Story time it is!” She tongued the inside of her muzzle as she scratched the ceiling with her gaze. “This whole thing started... mmmm... about five years.”

Celestia nodded. “Five years ago, I see.”

“No.” The unicorn glared at the Princess. “Five years... from now.”

Prologue: A Showmare for All Seasons

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April 12th, 1005 ME
19:42:11:10

Solid darkness.

“You know what they say about this city...”

CLAKKKK!!!

A blue spotlight appeared on a fuzzy equine figure.

“'What happens in Las Pegasus...”

Her violet eyes peeked out from between the brim of a sorcerer's cap and the hem of a starry cape.

“...stays in Pegasus.'”

A glint of teeth beneath a devil-may-care grin...

“But tonight...!”

With a rush of magical wind, she unfurled the cape, filling the air with glitter and conjured sparkles.

“...the Twelfth of April, year one thousand and five of the Equestrian Modern Era...!!”

With a flick of her tail, a puff of purple smoke billowed into the spreading spotlight. As it settled, the stage revealed a tall glass tank full of bubbling water.

“...the Grreat and Powerrful Trrrrixie shall perform a magical feat of such magnitude that everyone in this audience will be compelled to speak of it to everypony for the rest of their mortal lives!!!”

More sparklers and fireworks crackled to add dramatic framing to the showmare's declaration. The auditorium filled with gasps, murmurs, and applauding hooves of excitement.

Trixie couldn't see any of the attendees from the bright lights, so she just smiled into the blinding moment, tossing her mane loose as she magically undid her cape, hat, and the tassels in between.

“You've heard about the impossibility of this act...”

She stood up on her hindquarters and stuck her forelimbs out to her side. Stallions in finely-pressed suits galloped in from opposite positions offstage.

“...you've seen the posters! Heard murmurs of rumors of its death-defying insanity...”

In synchronized motions, the stagehooves fitted a strait jacket onto the showmare. They made quick work of fastening chains and cuffs together so that Trixie squatted helpless on her hindquarters with her forelimbs completely and utterly bound.

“... … ...from coast to coast of Princess Twilight's blessed nation, you've no doubt caught wind of the spectacle that is the unsinkable, unkillable, unmurrrrderrrable Trrrrixie!”

One stallion put an anti-magic cap onto Trixie's horn. It sparked once or twice as her magic visibly dimmed. At the same time, the second stallion attached Trixie to a black, near-invisible rigging of wires suspended from the ceiling above the stage. As soon as he was done...

...Trixie was lifted up into the air and towards the water tank behind her. She kept her narrow, intense gaze locked on the audience the entire time.

“But not until now have you obserrrrved her wrrreckless skill up close! Fillies and gentlecolts! Equines of all ages! Feast yourrrr eyes on this one-of-a-kind rrrrreenactment! The verrry stunt that the Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrixie pulled in herrr dazzling escape from the Waterrrrr Warrrrriors of Waterrrrtopia!”

With a mechanical whur, her dangling body came to a stop directly above the tank.

The stallions stood on either side of the glass container, facing the crowd with deadpan expressions.

Trixie's voice boomed across the dumbstruck auditorium.

“One hundred and eighty brrrrreathless seconds! Suspended inside an inescapable torrrrrturrrrre device of drrrrowning demise!!! Boiled alive by hungry cannibals! Bound in a strrrraight jacket with no escape tool except herrrr mind, muscle, and magnificence! BEHOLD!!! The Grrrrreat and Powerrrrrful Trrrixie presents to you... … … THE WATERRRTOPIAN MIRRRACLE!!!”

On cue...

...the cable harness unlocked.

And Trixie plunged like an anvil down into the tank.

SPLOOSH!!!

Water roared out the top as her body displaced the liquid. Trixie fell into the dead center of the clear container, surrounded in bubbles. These very same bubbles increased as the stallions lit a pyre of logs directly beneath the container, which caught aflame brilliantly. More shrieks and gasps came out of the audience as the stagehooves—in grim silence—pulled a blanket of metal mesh fabric and threw the opaque material over the body of the tank, obscuring Trixie's bound and drowning figure... replacing it with steam and the flicker of ash.

The water tank stood like this—broiling with flame from underneath—covered in a choking metal fabric that obscured all sign of the magician's torturous ordeal. As more and more steam filled the air of the theatre, an orchestrated symphony crackled through the loud speakers above. Tense, percussion-based music filled the audible space left by the collective, wide-eyed audience who were all holding their breaths.

Meanwhile...

...off stage, a stallion wearing thick glasses stood with a mallet in one hoof and a stopwatch in the other. The very second that the magician was sealed up and covered in the boiling water tank, he clicked the top of the device, watching as the moving hands ticked down from three full minutes.

By the time the hands hit one hundred and seventy-five seconds remaining...

“Hiya, Silver Shill,” Trixie said, standing and dripping directly behind him.

“GAHHH!” The stallion hopped in place, his spectacles flying off his scalp.

Flash! Trixie caught them in a violet field of energy, despite the presence of the “magic cap” on her horn.

“Careful...” She blew the cap off her head, wiped the glasses against her wet chest, then levitated them back to the stagehoof. “...you're working for Flim and Flam again. You can't afford afford to toss all gimmicks away.”

“You're one to talk.” Silver Shill gestured at the horn cap rotating to a stop on the ground beside a water-logged straight jacket. “This is your third tour of performing the Watertopian Miracle.”

“Pssst!” Trixie pointed at the stopwatch in his hoof. “Eyes on the clock.”

“Guh! S-sorry...” He put his glasses back on, rubbed them dry, then spotted the time remaining. He turned and gestured at another pony off stage.

A mare nodded back, squatting on a stool with a microphone. She spoke into it, projecting her voice across the musical speakers: “Two minutes, thirty seconds! The Great and Powerful Trixie sure has her work cut out for her!”

“D-don't you think ponies are gonna catch on, Trixie?” Silver Shill remarked.

“Meh...” The mare levitated a towel off a nearby wrack and started drying her mane and upper coat briskly. “A wise old stallion once said 'There's a clopper born every minute.'”

“Jack Pot? Really?” Silver Shill couldn't help but smirk. His eyes darted briefly away from the stopwatch. “Didn't think you of all ponies would be quoting your old stallion.”

“Yes... well...” Trixie sighed, all the while rub-rub-rubbing her head, muzzle, ears. “...he's stayed out of Trixie's spotlight all this time. You ask me, that's pretty 'wise.'”

“Don't be so hard on yourself.” Silver Shill observed the time and gestured at the mare with the mic yet again.

“Two minutes left, fillies and gentlecolts! Her peril is just now starting!”

Trixie spoke as the speakers above crackled. “Do you forget who you're talking to?”

“Gotta admit, you're making a splash here at The Rioats.” Silver Shill winked. “Give it a few years and I swear you'll be headlining this place!”

“Mmmmyeah, well, Trixie certainly is tired of being a mere opening act.” Her blue muzzle scrunched as she shimmied the towel over her rump. “Just what do Prance and Trotter have that Trixie doesn't?”

“That trick with the goldfish?” Silver Shill gasped. “Oh! That other one! The magic bullet one!”

“Eugh... don't remind Trixie.” She gestured at Silver's pocketwatch.

He coughed aside.

“One minute and thirty seconds! It's all a boil at this point!”

“Magicians their age...” Trixie blew out the side of her muzzle. “...stallions that old in Las Pegasus should either be retired or having their muzzles bitten off by tigers.”

“That reminds me...” Silver Shill smiled. “Word is that Flim and Flam are going to buy out the Luxoats Hotel and Casino next. If you play your cards right, maybe you can headline that!”

“Puh-lease...” Trixie rolled her eyes. Her horn glowed, dragging her cape and hat towards her—which she promptly fitted on. “The only thing that belongs under a pyramid are mummies and conspiracy nuts.”

“One minute! One minute, folks! Can the Great and Powerful Trixie make it?!?!”

“Don't tell me...” Silver Shill's beady eyes narrowed through his glasses. “...is that off-beat hick pony town still dragging you away from a full-time gig?”

“Hah!” Trixie tilted her nose up and flung her cape around her fuzzy blue figure. Now dry and pristine. “Ponyville is many things, Mr. Shill! But it is far from maximum Hickville!” Her eyes narrowed as she fluffed her mane beneath her hat. “If it captures the Great and Powerful Trixie's attention so much... then it must be worth all the majesty, you think?”

“I don't know, Trix...” He signaled the mare one last time.

“Thirty seconds! Is this it?! Is this curtains for the Great and Powerful Trixie?!?”

Silver Shill looked towards the showmare worriedly, waving the stopwatch with emphasis. “...neither of us are getting any younger. Don't you think it's about time we... y'know... settled for what's most profitable?”

“Oh ye of little pizzazz...” She waggled her eyebrows. “...time is always on Trixie's side.”

“Time's up! What has become of our beloved sorceress?!?!”

Trixie held her breath. Her eyes clenched shut as her blue cheeks puffed out and—

—her horn sparked.

FLASSSSH!!!

The black fabric on stage fell straight down—through a vanishing tank of boiling water—and above it there materialized a fabulously dressed unicorn beneath an array of sparkles and twirling fireworks.

“THE GRRREAT AND POWERRRFUL TRRRIXIE PRRREVAILS!!!” she hollered, twirling into a dramatic pose within the spotlight.

The auditorium filled with clopping hooves and cheering voices.

Trixie smiled wide. She bowed down low multiple times.

“Thank you! Thank you! Your enthusiastic admiration is much expected.” She fitted her sorcerer's cap on straighter and leaned back with a smirk. “You have all been blessed by the mesmerizing act of the Great and Powerful Trixie! Next up—” She murmured under her breath. “As if you couldn't guess...” A clearing of her throat, and she spoke loudly from the stage again: “—the indomitable pair of card-trick cavaliers, Prance and Trotter! But do not give into dismay...” She winked. “You can see Trixie again! Soon, in fact! For—right after the show—she will be sitting at her Great and Powerful Booth in the Rioats lobby! Available for any and all questions, autographs, and fan appreciation!”

She pointed straight into the blinding lights at the unseen audience.

“Be there, oh fans and admirers of Trrrixie!” A wink. “She knows you want to be.”

An hour and a half later.

Trixie sat.

At her table.

Alone.

She leaned her fuzzy muzzle against a bored fetlock.

Her hat rested crookedly against her skull, and a dimly-glowing horn levitated a trio of juggling balls lazily in the air.

The table beneath was spread over with a blue cloth bespeckled with constellation patterns. Several large print photographs of the Great and Powerful Trixie rested beside a stack of unused black markers. In every picture, Trixie was smiling wide and posing smugly.

Slowly, the magician sighed through flaring nostrils. Her lethargic gaze swam across the noisy arena of the lobby.

It was—in fact—quite busy throughout the lobby of the Rioats casino and hotel. A large crowd of ponies—the still-enthused audience from that evening—congregated in heavy clusters. However, they all huddled noticeably around a pair of stools where two well-suited stallions sat, chatting amicably with the crowd. One—a tall and burly stallion with peppery gray mane hair and round-framed glasses. The other—a small and pleasant-faced pony with curly hair framing a balding forehead. Trixie watched as the larger stallion rambled incessantly about one topic or another while the smaller one quietly and calmly signed one three-of-clubs after another.

“Hmmf...” Trixie blew at a loose strand of white mane hair dangling from under her hat. “...shadows and goldfish tricks. Meh!” She cupped two fetlocks around her muzzle. “You know he can talk, right?!? It's all an act! He only plays mute because he wants to!”

But her loud exclamation was but a puny pindrop devoured by the cacophony of ponies, ponies, ponies.

“Eeeeugh...” Trixie slumped back in her chair, tilting her head back and gazing loathsomely through the ceiling tiles of the lobby above. “...Trixie should have booked herself for Manehattan. The only magic she has to compete with there is the sewage system.”

“There you are, Miss Trixie!”

“Gaaah!” Trixie hopped in place, nearly falling out of her chair. Her telekinetically juggling balls fell to the floor beneath the table. “Trixie has paid her taxes—!” She flinched.

A mare in front of her likewise flinched. She was a young adult filly, wearing glasses, a hairband, and a saddlebag patched over with college emblems.

“Oh, I'm sorry!” She smiled nervously, revealing braces. “I-I hope I didn't startled you! I'm actually quite glad that I met you here. You see... uhm...” Her cheeks blushed slightly. “...I'm a big fan.”

“A big fan?” Trixie's muzzle scrunched suspiciously. “A big fan of what?” She stupidly looked at her own table, her own photographs, then the young mare who was standing directly at said table and staring right at her. “Oh! But of course! A big fan!” She stood up tall and proud, striking a debonair pose. “A grreat and powerrful fan of the Grreat and Powerrful Trrixie!”

The mare giggled. With the gleeful enthusiasm of a foal, she jogged briefly in place, then steeled herself with a clearing of the throat. “Ahem... I had the hardest time finding you, though. I swear... this place needs a bigger lobby!”

“Mmmmm. Yes. Indeed.” Trixie glared at the crowd gathered around Prance and Trotter. “It's very rare that you can find a building magnificent enough to house the majesty that is Trixie.”

“Heehee...” The mare bit her bottom lip, smiling. “You're just as smug in real life as you are in writing!”

“Yes, well...” Trixie pointed at her and winked. “...you know what they say! Truth is stranger than fiction!”

“But all I've ever read of you is non-fiction.”

“Yes!” Trixie blinked. “And truth is...” Trixie blinked again. “...strangier... than in... in...” She shook her snout, coughed, then leaned forward with her forelimbs crossed beneath her chin. “Sooooooooo... what did you think of tonight's show?”

“The Watertopian Miracle?” The mare did a little hop in place. “So amazing! I still have no clue how you made it out of the tank! I mean... obviously it's a stage secret trick... but such a good one! And presented so dazzlingly! You never fail to impress...”

“Trixie takes it you're familiar with her other work?”

“Mmmm? Oh! Yes! Of course!”

“So tell Trixie, then...” The showmare smiled from ear to ear. “What is your favorite performance? Hmmm? The Manticore Cannon Launch Lunch?”

“Well—”

“The Endless Handkerchief River?”

“I think—”

“The Ursa Major Star Fall?”

“Actually... none of those...”

Trixie's pupils shrank. “You... don't like any of Trixie's show stoppers?”

The mare slowly shook her head. She reached into her saddlebag, and pulled out a thick book. Trixie could already tell from the color of its spine what it was: Friendship is Magic Volume Six, written by Twilight Sparkle.

“I am...” The mare hugged the book tenderly to her chest while smiling rosily at Trixie. “...a really... really huge fan of the part you played in the heroic journey that saved all of Equestria from Queen Chrysalis' evil schemes.” She gulped. “Just four brave souls! Protecting the world from devastation and bringing salvation to all of the changelings! That's an entire civilization that now has a promising future just because of what you four did! Two civilizations, technically!”

“Oh.” Trixie breathed. “Right.” She leaned back. “That.” A lazy wave of the hoof. “Ehhhhh... it was just your run-of-the-mill threat-to-all-existence thingy. Trust me, they happen every Tuesday.”

“But I-I couldn't even begin to imagine!” The mare's eyes went wide. “Being up against such incalculable odds?! Facing certain death at every corner, not knowing if your next decision could be the right decision for everypony involved?!”

“Just put one pretty hoof in front of the other,” Trixie said, stifling a yawn. “That's always Trixie's motto.”

“It must have been so exciting brushing withers with so many big names.” The mare leaned forward, grinning. “Tell me! How's King Thorax in person?”

“King Thorax?” Trixie blinked. “Who's King Thorax?”

Silence.

“Oh! Right! That bug.” Trixie sat up straight, slowly shrugging. “Oh... y'know... he's... … … pointy.” A nod. “Colorful.” Another nod. Lingering breaths. “...pointy.”

“Heeheehee...” The mare giggled. “And I can't imagine it was easy handling Discord's antics up close.”

“No. It wasn't.” Trixie fought hard not to roll her eyes. “Y'know, if he ever visits Las Pegasus, maybe you could try asking for his autograph—”

“I don't want Discord's autograph,” the mare said in a solid tone. Her gaze was sincere. “The only pony I've wanted to meet is you.”

Trixie's eyes narrowed.

“Thorax, Discord—even Starlight Glimmer...” The mare held the book higher for emphasis. “Twilight Sparkle writes about how powerful each of them are. Even when facing the anti-magic aura that Chrysalis' nest was generating, those three had their own might to lean on.” She slowly shook her head. “But none of them had the inner courage and tenacity to face the unthinkable and improvise a solution. You did. You went in there fully-knowing that you were outmatched by your opponent.”

“Yes... w-well...” Trixie cleared her throat, fiddling her fetlocks all of a sudden. “...the Great and Powerful Trixie is anything but—”

“You trotted up to the heart of the changeling hive and you boldly made the world a better place.” The mare's eyes watered. “Do you... have any idea just how inspiring that is...?”

“... … ...” Trixie glanced over at the crowd gathered around Prance and Trotter, then back at the solitary mare. “M... maybe you could remind Trixie...”

“I've read the recollection Princess Twilight wrote about the award ceremony... over and over and over.” The mare sniffled, smiling pleasantly at the book. “Y'know... where you, Thorax, Discord, and Starlight Glimmer were given medals for your bravery and courage?”

“Oh yes. Trixie remembers that. They were serving peanut butter cookies at the banquet.”

“And I've spent countless nights... reflecting on Twilight's words... trying to understand the crux of what gave you so much power and focus...” The mare paced slightly in place. “And... and I think that I figured it out!”

“Ah! Well, isn't it obvious?” Trixie straightened her cap and tilted her nose up proudly. “It's because of how charismatic and enthusiastic and awesome I am—”

“It's all because of friendship!”

“... … ...Trixie begs your pardon?”

“It's so clear! So obvious!” The mare pointed at the book, then at Trixie. “The bond that you have! With Thorax, Discord, Starlight Glimmer—heck—the Elements of Harmony!” She smiled sweetly. “All of Twilight's friends and acquaintances”

“Uhhhhh...”

“You're all like... just one big clubhouse of buddies and pals and bronies and pegasisters, aren't you?” She danced again in place. “Oh, how wonderful it must feel to be included in such an elite group!”

“Oh... uh...” Trixie sweated slightly. “...you bet!”

“What I wouldn't give to know Princess Twilight personally! Or to share the skies with Rainbow Dash! Or to trade tall tales with Applejack or share wisdom with Fluttershy or mirth with Pinkie Pie or inspiration with Rarity!” The mare gestured. “But you have all of that! And more! You practically live in the Castle of Friendship! You know such goodness and awesomeness first-hoof!”

“Yeah...” Trixie glanced off into the distance. “...uh...”

“It just...” The mare gulped, hugging the book once again. “...it gives me hope that someday... perhaps... I-I too will find a group of friends like you did. And maybe I too can be great and powerful...” A giggle. A wink. “Just like you! Saving the world one pretty hoof before the other!”

“Listen... uhm...” Trixie gestured. “Miss—”

“Sue.”

“Sue?”

“Merry Sue.”

Trixie put on a plastic grin. “Why am I not surprised?” she whispered aside. Clearing her throat, she spoke loudly. “Don't cash all your chips in just friendship for friendship's sake.”

Merry nodded, listening intently.

“Sometimes... heck... most of the time...” Trixie smiled proudly. “You'll only have yourself to lean on. In fact... it's quite possible—realistic, even—to expect going through all of life relying on just yourself!”

“But...” The mare's eyes darted to the cover of the book. “...Friendship—”

“'Is Magic.' I know. Yadda yadda yadda.” Trixie rolled her eyes. “Yes. It's sooooo marketable.” A sly grin. “But bunching up together to fire friendship lasers at a bad guy isn't all there is in life.”

“It isn't?”

“No.” Trixie momentarily frowned. “It isn't.” Her smirk returned. “You gotta work on the in-between...”

“What's... in-between friendship?”

“Being yourself!” Trixie grinned, gesturing. “Looking after yourself! Long... lonesome journeys on the road! Mastering one gig after another! Finding your place in the spotlight!” Her eyes narrowed. “Cuz—I hate to break it to ya—but we all are gonna end up alone at some point or another. Might as well make peace with it. Learn to master it.” Trixie leaned back with an accomplished smile. “And let Trixie tell ya...” She rested her forelimbs behind her head. “...she's learned to master being herself like no other pony.”

Merry Sue nodded. “I see.” A nervous grin. “So... you prefer being alone?”

Trixie's pupils shrank. “Trixie didn't say that!” They shrank again. “Wait... did Trixie say that?” She rocked upright in her seat. “I mean... what I m-meant was—”

“Or... do you have no choice in the matter—?”

“Trixie is not alone!” Trixie slapped a hoof on the table. “Trixie has friends! Trixie has lots of friends!” She folded her forelimbs and tilted her nose up. “Sparkle's book no doubt tells you that.”

“Twilight's book... uh... suggests some things...”

Trixie squinted out one eye. “What kind of things...?”

Merry blanched. “You mean you haven't read it?”

“Of... c-course Trixie has! But... humor her anyway...”

Merry flipped through the book, then settled on a bookmarked page. She hesitated a bit, glancing at Trixie, then back at the book. “Ahem...” She gulped hard and started reading. “'...although she's never fully admitted it, I've come to conclude that Trixie Lulamoon has a lot in common with me. More specifically, my past self—the book smart student of Princess Celestia who had no time for companionship, but all the desire. Deep-seeded and sensitive. Only, unlike past me, Trixie never made that first step until much much later—'”

“Hah!” Trixie laughed. “Hah-HAH!” She barked her cackles until the redness in her cheeks were obscured. “Blasphemy! Lies! Slander!” She spent a few too many seconds readjusting her robe around a sweaty neck. “Let Trixie tell you! That Princess can write a thing or two about the physical properties of comets! But when it comes to character studies, she's one brick short of a crematorium!”

“Yes... but...” Merry Sue winced as she squeezed the words out. “...she kinda sorta is the “Princess of Friendship.”

“... … … … … ...” Trixie stared at her. “... … ...would you like Trixie to sign something?” she droned.

“Oh! Yes! Yes yes yes! Please!” Merry danced in place.

“Hold your horses, horse-lady.” Trixie sat up with a smirk. She flicked a marker up into the air with magic, grabbed a photo, and shook the ink loose. “If the r's in my title look fancier than you'd expect, that's done on purpose.” A wink. “That way they look like they're rolling.”

“Eee-heee-heee-heeeeeee...!”

Trixie was one of the last ponies to trot out of the Rioats Hotel's auditorium wing. A security guard opened a side alley door for her. He gave a salute, then walked back into the building, locking the side exit in place.

Lugging a heavy cluster of saddlebags on her flank, Trixie trotted lonesomely forward under the shroud of night. It was extra-windy in Las Pegasus, and a swift gust from the pegasopolitan cloud city nearly blew her hat off as she emerged onto the main streets.

She was also greeted by lights-lights-lights: the magical array of dazzling luminescent spells that made up the sights, hotel fronts, and advertisements of the lofty entertainment hub of Equestria.

Much like Manehattan, it was a city that never slept—with party-goers and inebriated tourists wandering from attraction to attraction.

A gaggle of voices caught Trixie's attention.

She looked to her left. She saw a huge group of ponies—several of whom she recognized from the congregation in the Rioats front lobby. Dozens of these very same equines had been her starry-eyed audience members. She couldn't see their adoring faces from the stagelights then. And now that they were all out in the open, not a single smiling, laughing, enthusiastic gaze was aimed towards her. Instead, the ponies chatted and giggled and chortled amongst friends while moving off to their eventual destination.

And Trixie...

...trotted away from them on her own.

She strolled away from the brightest cluster of lights. She moved past gift shops and tourist traps and street-side food vendors. She trotted beyond the darker layers of Las Pegasus, past hidden clusters of hobo nests and shanty-towns that loomed under decrepit shadows. At last, she arrived at a nearly-vacant lot, populated by the occasional wagon—including her own. It was one of the only spots in all of Las Pegasus that didn't require a fee for parking. And that's where she chose to rest her wheels.

The lone showmare's horn glowed. She licked her lips as she fiddled with the magical lock to her wagon/home/warehouse/domicile. Dogs barked loudly in her periphery, and she heard a police siren or two wailing in the distance. Fighting a slight shudder, she finally managed to unlock the rear door of the wagon. She leapt through in a blue blur, then sealed it magically shut behind her.

Safe inside the cramped living space, Trixie sighed with relief. She zapped a crystal affixed to the ceiling, filling the claustrophobic wagon with a soft blue glow. She disrobed of her saddlebags—a feat that took no less than thirty seconds due to the narrow space afforded her and her belongings—and then she wormed her way under a hammock and towards a cupboard. Opening one drawer, she slid aside a hidden panel to reveal a secure lock box. After a full minute of fumbling with its lock, she deposited all of the bits from that night's earning... then sealed the metal thing back shut.

Trixie stood still for a moment. Breathing. Existing. Thinking.

Her anxious eyes eventually drifted towards the far corner of the wagon. Behind three separate junk piles was another pile—this one consisting of several unwashed stage robes from at least twenty skipped laundries ago. Trixie tongued the inside of her muzzle. She fidgeted, hesitated, then—with a self-deprecating groan—finally slithered over to the mound of clothes.

Her horn glowed as—one layer at a time—she peeled the pile loose. Hidden underneath was a dusty box lined with green velvet. Beside it was a stack of books—pristine in their quality. But this was only because they were still encased in tight plastic shrink-wrap.

Trixie glanced across the wagon. She levitated a knife out from a random drawer and brought it over to where the shrink-wrapped books were hovering. With careful precision, she cut the books loose, tossed the plastic wrap into a random junk pile, then pulled the sixth book loose from the rest. She flipped through the pages, wormed her way through paragraph after dense paragraph of Twilight Sparkle's words...

...then finally settled on the passage that Merry Sue had read from. Trixie's violet eyes slowly limped down the page.

'...although she's never fully admitted it, I've come to conclude that Trixie Lulamoon has a lot in common with me. More specifically, my past self—the book smart student of Princess Celestia who had no time for companionship, but all the desire. Deep-seeded and sensitive.'

Her reading eyes narrowed as she went a little further on:

'Only, unlike past me, Trixie never made that first step until much much later—or perhaps never at all.'

Trixie slowly lowered the book.

She stood alone, dwarfed by the clusters of junk and stage tools crowding in all around her. Like a foal lost in the woods.

Her gaze fell onto the green velvet box beneath her. She put the book down and levitated the container up in its place. It took some fumbling, a little bit of forcing, but she finally opened the box. Inside—covered in dust—was a medal. A ruby crystal heart, lined in gold, with platinum wings. The pink chain of the medal had been left twisted with neglect so that the knots were likely permanent.

Trixie's nostrils flared. Nevertheless, she blew lightly on the medal.

Enough dust cleared for her to see the inscription above the heart-shaped crest: “In Honor of Trixie Lulamoon, Defender of Friendship.”

A lump formed in Trixie's throat. She sighed, then glanced at the hammock dangling above her.

Less than an hour later...

After a sink “bath” and putting her mane in curlers, Trixie lay back in her hammock. She levitated a scrapbook above her.

It was full of photographs from her days of travel and stagecrafting. Every few pages, there'd be a marker with the year given.

”Year 998 ME.”

There were pictures of Trixie. Pictures of her old wagon. Pictures of Huffington. Fillydelphia. Baltimare. Then Trixie again.

She flipped forward.

“Year 999 ME.”

There were more pictures of Trixie. A few of Canterlot. A few more of Chicagoats. Then Trixie once again.

She flipped forward.

“Year 1000 ME.”

Ponyville. A broken wagon. Then a few blank pages.

Then...

Photos of nature.

Photos of city streets, houses.

Then a photo of a new wagon.

And finally photos of Trixie again.

Her brow furrowed as she flipped forward.

“Year 1001 ME.”

Photos of Trixie.

She flipped forward.

“Year 1002 ME.”

Photos of Trixie.

She flipped forward.

”Year 1003 ME.”

Photos of Trixie.

She sighed. She was about to flip forward some more...

...when she saw one photo of Starlight Glimmer.

Her eyes lit up. Her ears perked straight. She leaned forward in her hammock, curlers flouncing.

She flipped back to the photo she saw of her best friend...

...only to discover that it was a picture of the two of them, being taken by Trixie herself. Trixie was glamming it up for the camera and Starlight was barely squeezed into the shot.

Trixie clenched her eyes shut. After a long sigh, she slowly flipped forward from there.

“Year 1004 ME.”

More photos of Trixie.

But...

...for every ten photos, there was a picture of Starlight in there. Trixie had to look hard to find her.

Gnawing her bottom lip, she flipped for again.

“Year 1005 ME.”

This part of the scrapbook was barely filled out. Even then, for every picture of Trixie, there was scarcely a shot of Starlight.

The very last photo in the book thus far was one Trixie took two days ago. It was a poster for the magic show at the Rioats Casino and Hotel... only she had cropped the poster so that the photo only showed her opening act—with just a smidge of Trotter's pasty chin peaking into frame from the unseen center of the display.

The rest of the book was blank. Trixie felt the same looking at it as she did at all the colorful, blue fuzzy photos before.

Thap!

She clapped the book shut and hugged it to her chest. She slumped back in the hammock, swaying a bit, bumping into boxes full of tophats and escape artist devices filling the cramped space on either side of her.

After a prolonged exhale, she looked down beneath her.

She saw the stack of Twilight's books—barely touched and fresh out of shrinkwrap despite being gifted to her countless months ago. The velvet green box with Trixie's royal medal lingered, teetering on the top of the stack of books, ready to fall at any time and join the junk scattered across the wagon floor.

Trixie swallowed. She craned her neck—just to aim her horn at the glowing crystal on the ceiling. Extinguishing the light, she rolled over and waited for sleep.

Like all things in her cluttered life, she would be waiting for a long time.

Prologue: Home, Great and Powerful Home

Prologue: Home, Great and Powerful Home

April 20th, 1005 ME
08:15:02:33

Over a week later...

In the rolling valleys of Equestria's heartland...

A fuzzy blue unicorn in a starry cape and hat drew her wagon over the crest of a hill...

...and there it was. Within plain sight. A patch of gold within the emerald navel of the land.

Ponyville.

Its thatched roofs shimmered in the rising dawnlight. A windmill turned lazily to the north, casting idle shadows over the bustling marketplace. The clock tower on the southwest edge of town glistened under a sheen of morning dew. A school bell could be heard ringing in the distance, and pegasus bodies flew between buildings, delivering wagonloads of freshly-baked goods from one establishment to the other. The air smelled of bread, flowers, and cheer. As the sun rose further in the sky—the upper spires of Princess Twilight's Castle glittered like frozen fireworks. Not too far away—framed by cascading waterfalls along the edge of a mountain's slope—the School of Friendship loomed, along with its blossoming gardens and verdant green hedges.

A calm smile drew across Trixie's face. She lingered briefly on the crown of that hill, overlooking the closest thing she had to a “home”—that didn't have wheels.

“Mmmmmmm... peanut butter and piano solos,” she randomly sputtered. Then—pushing against the dirt path beneath her like it was a cliff-face—she coasted effortlessly down the south face of the hill, allowing gravity and joy to carry her to her destination.

Within minutes, she was breaching the city limits of Ponyville, and nearly arriving at the leg of her lengthy, lengthy journey. She paused at intersections, allowing farm ponies to draw their wares across town without interference. She threaded her way between alleyways, glancing up at absent-minded ponies opening second-story windows to water their balcony plants and air out their laundry. One by one, store fronts were unlocking their doors and flipping their signs from “Closed” to “Open.” Elderly morning joggers congregated at street corners to gossip and laugh over old stories.

Trixie passed by the market district. She saw Big Macintosh opening up the Apple Family stall. Roseluck, Daisy, and Lily were gathering flowers to make valuable bouquets. Lyra Heartstrings and Bon Bon squatted outside in front of a restaurant, trading tales with love in their eyes before going about their respective day shifts. From a block away, Trixie could make out the sight of Mayor Mare strolling along the circumference of City Hall, most likely discussing structural maintenance of the town's key buildings.

TH-THUDDD! Trixie sensed a massive vibration to a dormant street lamp just above her. With practiced grace, she stopped herself and her wagons. Within half-a-second, a gray body fell down directly in front of her, dizzy and confuzzled from having slammed straight into the lamp. Rubbing her scalp, Derpy Hooves smiled awkwardly to either side of Trixie. Then—after a momentary adjustment of her mailbag—the mare flapped her wings and took to the skies once again, following through with her zig-zagging route.

Trixie sighed through a calm smile. She made for the tallest structure in Ponyville—lingering north above the rest of the rustic neighborhood. The closer she came to Twilight's home—and more specifically the adjacent School—the more diverse the locals became. Griffons and young dragons flew in the direction of the School. A pair of seaponies leapt out of a river stream, morphed into Hippogriffs, and galloped briskly towards the front entrance. Delegates from all trots of the land followed closely behind an earth pony representative as she gave them a tour of the nearby grounds. Even Zecora made a brief appearance, trotting towards Everfree Forest with a wagon full of freshly-bought provisions.

Everypony and everycreature were too busy doing a multitude of various thing to bother talking with Trixie. But that was fine. Trixie had endured a long trip, and she had somewhere to be. Somewhere calm. Somewhere wholesome. Somewhere... joyful.

She was nearly bustling with anticipation by the time she made it to the southwest edge of the Castle of Friendship. There—nestled between the magical building's crystalline foundation and a thicket of trees—was a rectangular patch of worn grass, flanked by a stack of storage crates, a brick outdoor fireplace, and a few other things that had more or less become Trixie's on-loan possessions. She backed up the wagon; it fit perfectly in the rectangular patch of grass. Then, after much fuss, she undid the reins and riggings of the cart and trotted freely for the first time in hours.

Holding her breath, Trixie Lulamoon galloped giddily towards the front entrance to the Castle, straightened her cap and robe, cleared her throat, and veritably kicked the doors wide open.

THUD!!!

“Behold!!!” Trixie's voice echoed into the dimly-lit front atrium of the Castle. “The Grrreat and Powerrrful Trrrixie rrreturrrns!”

She spread her forelimbs out in a waiting embrace.

She smiled with her eyes shut.

One second of silence.

Five seconds of silence.

Ten...

She squinted one eye open. Then the other. A deadpan blink.

The interior of the Castle was empty. Utterly bereft of movement, motion, life. The glossy walls of the place still shook from the reverberation of Trixie's dramatic entrance.

A beat.

“Mrrrrmfff...” The showmare rolled her eyes. Re-adjusting her cape and hat, she plodded forward on heavy hooves, marching her way towards the Castle Throne room, and once there—

THUD!!!

“Behold!!!” Trixie struck the same pose with the same smile and the same outstretched forelimbs. “The Grrreat and Powerrrful Trrrixie rrreturrrns!”

All that responded was an echo.

The round table was barren. The map dormant, the chairs empty.

The preserved roots of the Golden Oaks Library wobbled slightly from the invasive sound. Crystals dangled on strings then were dead still once again.

Trixie stood above the shadow of herself—the only acquaintance to greet her.

She slumped forward on all fours, tonguing the inside of her muzzle under a perpetual frown. Harsh eyes desperately searched every square inch of the castle interior with surmounting frustration.

She marched on ahead.

THUD!!!

“Behold! The Great and Powerful Trixie returns!”

The library was utterly barren.

THUD!!!

”Behold! The Great and Powerful Trixie returns!”

So was the main hallway.

THUD!!!

“Behold—!”

The banquet hall was full of tables covered in white sheets.

Thap!!!

“Behold...?”

A flock of songbirds scattered, flying away from an empty crystalline balcony.

Creaaaaak.

Trixie leaned her head through a doorway, peering lethargically.

“... … ...the great and Powerful Trixie returns...”

Dusty dawnlight shone into the kitchen.

Illuminating nopony.

Trixie's blue muzzle scrunched. She cast a bored gaze aside. Pink teacups hung on tiny metal hooks. Half-heartedly, she tapped one with the tip of her hoof, watched as it rocked silently... then came to a stop.

A sigh.

Trixie slunk back into the hallway, letting the kitchen door close on its own.

The mare trotted on dull hooves down a long, long corridor of crystal.

She passed by a doorway...

...paused...

...then backtrotted until she was within reach of the handle. She opened it and peered inside a pitch-black closet. A lone broom teetered to greet her—but Trixie slammed the door shut before it could fall out.

“Phweeeeeee...” Her ears drooped on either side of her blue scalp as she made her way back towards the entrance. “...of course a castle named after 'friendship' would be empty.” She frowned. “If you ask Trixie, it could use more stupid lasers.”

“I know, right?” A violet shape waddled through two doorways behind her. Shrugging. “But Twilight's all 'nooooo, Spike. That's as dumb as the 'fog machine' idea!”

Trixie gasped. “Spike!” She spun around with eyes wide and smile beaming. “Spike the Dragon!”

The whelp in question stopped in mid-step. Carrying a bundle of scrolls, he pivoted to face the showmare. A scaley eyecrest raised curiously.

Trixie blinked. “What's the matter?”

“Oh. Nothing, Trixie.” His short leathery wings flexed. “I just forgot you actually knew my full name, is all.”

“Bah!” Trixie slid towards him and rested a forelimb around his purple shoulder. “Who could possibly forget Princess Twilight Sparkle's most trusted and valuable assistant?!?”

“Okaaaaay...” Spike squinted at her. “What kind of a favor do you need?”

“Trixie doesn't need a favor!” she hissed, frowning. “Can't Trixie have a normal conversation with the Princess' royal advisor?”

“I don't know.” Spike fidgeted. “Can we?”

Trixie leaned back, folding both forelimbs with a frown. “Hmmmf!”

“Anyways, nice seeing you... and stuff...” Spike readjusted his grip of the scrolls and resumed his march towards the royal offices. “I'm guessing you're back from your tour of sawing ponies in half and vanishing playing cards.”

“Only some of those things...” Trixie trotted after him. “Just—what are you up to?”

“It's Monday morning,” the whelp said in a sing-songy voice. “The weekend's over!” He flapped his wings, hovered up to a desk, and dropped the pile of scrolls across the countertop. “Which means it's back to work for this dragon boy-o.” He started sorting through the scrolls and depositing them into different containers marked: “Twilight,” “Cadance,” “Celestia,” and “Luna.” His green eyeslits focused on his work as he spoke. “I swear—sometimes I think I'm the one thing gluing this whole maretriarchy together. Which—if you think about it—sorta makes it a draconianship. Heheheh...” A wink. “That's a joke I've been working on for about two weeks now. What do you think?”

Trixie ignored that last question. “Okay, let Trixie rephrase herself.” She tilted her nose up. “What is Sparkle up to?”

“Hmmm? Oh! Twilight spent the weekend away at the Zebraharan capital, playing Friendship Ambassador. I would have gone with her, but you know how I feel about sand.”

“I do?”

“She said she'd be coming back around this time.” Spike paused to scratch his chin in thought. “Not sure what's keeping her. But... it is the Zebrahara.” A shrug. “No doubt she discovered an age-old zebra library and decided to spend an extra day or two there. Wouldn't be the first time books dragged her down. Who'd a thunk it—that manuscripts would be the bane of future Equestrian bureaucracy?”

“I see...” Trixie toed the floor of the office.

“Thankfully, Twilight gave me permission to come back to Ponyville to do my work. Lemme tell ya. Canterlot Castle is great and all, but you simply cannot concentrate on anything with all of those guards in heavy armor trotting around and rattling up a storm.” Spike fought a yawn. “Plus, all my comic books are here in the castle...” A sly smirk as he continued working. “Sooooooo....”

“Yeah yeah. Whatever.” Trixie cleared her throat. “So, Trixie is guessing that Twilight took the entire Council of Friendship with her to Zebraland...?”

“What—you mean the girls?” Spike wave a claw. “Nahhhh...”

Trixie looked up, eyes brightening. “She didn't?”

“When it comes to this ambassadorial stuff, Twilight usually goes it alone. The rest of the gals can't really stand her stiff, diplomatic lectures. Celestia knows I can't.”

“Oh, well then...” Trixie smiled, trotting towards the door. “I suspect it's only a matter of time before they show up here to—”

“Come to think of it...” Spike resumed collating the scrolls. “...Twilight was going to invite some of them, but they all turned out to be super busy at the last second.”

Trixie scuffled to a stop on blue hooves. She turned to blink back at Spike. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Applejack had to make a delivery of seedlings to Appleloosa. Rarity needed to check up on Sassy Saddles in Canterlot Boutique. Rainbow Dash had a bunch of cadets to train at the Wonderbolts Academy. Fluttershy and Tree Hugger were attending some sort of... chipmunk convention in Fillydelphia.” He stifled another yawn and continued: “And Pinkie Pie... what did she need to do... oh yeah. Baking a fruitcake. You know how dedicated she gets.”

“No. Trixie doesn't.”

“That's a shame. It's like a living art form. Imagine a Stirrup Kubrick film—only acted out in real time. With fruit.”

“Isn't it a little strange...?” Trixie asked. “I mean... for all of Sparkle's companions to be off doing random things in different places?

“Not... really...?” Spike glanced at her from across the sea of rearranged scrolls. “It's not like Equestria's gonna stop functioning the moment the gals split apart. Not anymore—at least. Things have been pretty dang breezy since the defeat of Tirek, Chrysalis, and whatshername. Y'know... the curly-haired psychopath.”

Trixie's muzzle scrunched. “Covid Glow?”

“Yeah. I think that was it. Anyways...” Spike smiled as he immersed himself in his work. “...the only reason the girls ever get together these days is for getting together's sake. Which is the way it always should have been since day one, if you ask me.”

“Since day one...” Trixie murmured.

“I always think about Twilight's first day in Ponyville.” Spike hummed to himself. “She was sooooo obsessed with the prophecies concerning Nightmare Moon. But me? I kept having to remind her about Celestia's advice that she make friends.” A sly whistle. “Guess who was on the winning side of historyyyyyy...?”

“So, in short...” Trixie cut to the chase. “Sparkle and the rest won't be around for a while?” She rubbed one forelimb against the other, gazing off with a melancholic expression.

“I guess? Maybe? Maybe not?” Spike shrugged. “I may still be a clerk and an advisor, but Twilight has royal servants to make schedules for her now. Which is a relief. Gives me more time for eating gems and reading comics. Lemme tell ya, royalty is a lot more rewarding than I imagined...”

“Trixie sees...”

He noticed her disappointed reaction. “Why? Were you wanting to hang out with Twilight and her friends?”

“Hmmmm?” She jerked a look at him, her pupils shrinking. “Hah! Ha hah!!” A sweaty smile, haughty to a fault. “As if the Great and Powerful Trixie would ever be that desperate!”

Spike blinked. “Nothing 'desperate' about it, Trixie. You've been on tour for a while now, right? Like a few weeks? Probably figures that you'd wanna catch up with ponies.”

“Trixie doesn't need to catch up with anyone or anything. And—more than anything—she enjoys being on tour! In fact, being back here is... is s-something of a downgrade, considering the Great and Powerful Trixie's unshakably fulfilling career!”

“Hey. You do you.” Spike shrugged. “Sorry for insinuating.”

“'Sorry' is a good color on you.”

“Story of my life.”

Silence.

“Totally and completely unrelated, butttttt...” Trixie chewed on her lip, eyeing the dragon as he continued immersing himself in his work. “...diddddd you perhaps wish to talk about... erm... royal dragon advisory things?” She gulped. “Perhaps over breakfast? Since it is morning and Trixie hasn't eaten and you probably haven't eaten and it's perfectly natural to ramble about inane things while in the same room as one another... having breakfast... … …and oxygen.”

“Sorry, can't.” Spike shook his head. “I'm gonna be spending the next hour belching these scrolls to random destinations across Equestria.” He beat his chest with a claw for emphasis. “It takes a lot outta the pipes, if you get my drift.”

“No. Trixie doesn't.”

“I make lousy company when I can't afford to speak with my usual handsome dulcet tones. Not that it matters.” He smirked slightly without looking at her. “I know you hate hearing me ramble about half as much as you hate hearing Twilight Sparkle give lectures.”

“Yes...” Trixie leaned back with a pensively raised forelimb. “...Trixie supposes you have a point.”

Spike finished collating the scrolls into their separate piles. He grabbed the first one from Luna's collection and took a deep, draconian breath. His eyes rolled back as he jerked forward and—PHWOOOOOMB!—vomited green flame over the scrolls. It teleported away in a dazzling emerald glow.

“Phew...!” He slapped the back of his neck and coughed up cinders and ash. “...the former Princess of the Night must be farrrrrrrrrr away! I felt that letter zooming clear across the continent!” He smirked as he reached for the next scroll. “No doubt she's windsurfing on her grand Retirement Tour of Mareami Beach.”

“Mmmm...” Trixie trotted off. “...lucky her.”

“Nice seeing you around, though, Trixie!” Spike waved before teleporting another letter. PHWOOOMB!!! “Urp... don't be a stranger!”

Her muzzle contorted into a frown. “A little late for that...”

She trotted a lone path down a central corridor of the Castle of Friendship.

“...who needs to hang out with Sparkle and the rest of her gaggle anyways? Besides, all they ever talk about is probably rainbows and cupcakes.” A blink. “And the lasers in between.”

She slowed to a crawl until she was standing—slumped—in the great vacant heart of everything.

“It must be very fun...” Trixie's head bowed with a sigh. “...talking about rainbows and cupcakes and lasers...”

Silence.

The mare gnashed her teeth, then stood tall and proud. “Anyways, Trixie doesn't need to hang out with them! She never did!” In an energetic trot, she moved briskly forward, eyes firm and determined above a devilish smirk. “There's still a great and powerful friend whom Trixie can always count on in her time of need!”

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat???” Trixie fell back on her fuzzy blue rump, staring forward with wide eyes and a slacked jaw.

On the door to Starlight Glimmer's bedroom...

...there was a note. A note addressed to Trixie.

Clenching her teeth, Trixie yanked the taped yellow paper off the foundation and levitated it closer to her face so she could read the damnable hoofwriting once again.

Hello Trixie.

Welcome back from your tour in Las Pegasus! I'm so sorry I couldn't be around to greet you. I've been deeply immersed in my science experiments lately. You know how it is. Things have been a bit quiet in Ponyville as of late, so—by the Princess' grace—I've been given more time and resources to advance my studies. Which is great, because I've made a breakthrough as of late, and it's required my full attention.

I know it may not seem important to you, and I swear I want to catch up on things. There's just some super important stuff I need to get finished, and then you and I can hang out again. I promise. Until then, I will be away at my remote laboratory. Please—I know it's asking a lot—but don't disturb me until I am done with these experiments. That way I'll get them done faster and we'll see each other again sooner. I promise.

Thinking of you, forever and always. Sincerely, your great and powerful bestie,

~Starlight Glimmer.

Trixie blanched. At first, her face turned red in frustration—starting with her fuzzy eartips. But the anger didn't last long, giving way to a foalish spirit of sad defeat.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...” She groaned, slumping even further into the center of the hallway.

A beat.

She pouted.

She looked at the door to Starlight Glimmer's bedroom.

Then she looked again at the letter in her telekinetic grasp.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...”

Trixie slumped even further.

A heavy sigh. Then another.

“... … ...'important stuff?' What could be more important than having tea and talk with Trixie?”

A flicker of the anger returned, but only to make a brief glint in her clenched teeth.

“She'd better be conjuring up a potion to cure the pony pox because this whole day is getting stuck in Trixie's craw!” Her nostrils flared. “And that is the greatest and most powerful craw there is!”

Silence—save for her persistent fuming.

She took one last look at the letter. Her ears folded and her eyes glossed over. The next whimper from her throat was a soft one.

“Mmmmmmm... Trixie can't stay mad at you.” She nuzzled the flimsy parchment to her cheek as if it was her best friend's skin and exhaled warmly. “... … ...it's nopony's fault that Trixie feels the way she feels.” Her gaze went cold as she looked down the empty, crystalline hallway. “Well... maybe one pony's.”

Silence.

“Grfffff...” Trixie pinned the note back onto the door, ignored that it was upside down, and turned briskly about. “Moping in the dust is beneath Trixie.” One hoof after another, she trotted boldly towards the exit of the castle. “This is Ponyville. Trixie's new home.” She smirked from ear to ear. “And there's still one place where Trixie can feel useful and needed!”

“Spring Break?!?!?” Trixie's voice squeaked out of a flabbergasted muzzle.

“Uh... that's right, Miss Lulamoon!” Sandbar smiled nervously, standing beside her in the middle of a nearly-empty School of Friendship. “Just started today! Goes on for a whole week!” He shifted under the weight of his saddlebags and rubbed his own mane with a nervous smile. “Didn't you... uh... get the memo?”

“No! I did not... 'uhhhh'... get the memo!” Trixie frowned, stamping a hoof down. “Seriously! What kind of a school has a spring break this far into April?! I thought it was a March thing!”

“Yes. But... ever since Headmare Glimmer decided to sign off on the year-round semester scheduling thingy, our whole calender's been out of sync with the rest of the Equestrian educational system.”

“Hrmmmf! That's a ludicrous system to agree to!”

“I know, right! Totally bogus!” Sandbar smiled—then immediately winced. “Er... b-but you didn't hear that from me, Miss Lulamoon.”

“Uh huh...” Trixie gazed loathsomely at the nearly empty-hallways adjoining the atrium of the campus.

“Although... I don't suppose...” Sandbar's petite figure fidgeted in place. “...what—being the Headmare's best friend and all, you might be able to convince her to... ohhhhh... I dunno... change things up a bit?”

Trixie squinted at him. “Trixie hasn't seen Starlight Glimmer in three weeks.”

“Oh. Snap. How sucky.” He cleared his throat and smiled awkwardly. “For... y'know... all of us!”

Silence.

Trixie raised an eyebrow. “What are you even doing here?”

“Hmm? Oh! Just... came back to the dorm to gather my things. There were other students here earlier, scrambling to do the same. But I guess I'm the last one out. Eheheh...” Sandbar gestured. “I've actually got a train to catch at the Ponyville Depot. I'll be spending spring break in Yakyakistan.”

“Uh huh...” Trixie looked around the chamber.

“Yona's going to show me where she grew up and stuff.”

“Yuh huh...” Trixie's eyes fell on a portrait of Headmare Glimmer. Upon seeing the unicorn's painterly smile, Trixie's ears drooped sadly.

“Also I'm going to see the Cliffs of Thunder...” Sandbar cooed, eyes starry. “Yona says they're super... super romantic...”

“Better bring protection.”

Sandbar jerked in place, blushing beet red. “I... uhhhh... erm—”

“Bring climbing gear. A harness. Maybe even a parachute.” Trixie looked at Sandbar. “It'd be a shame for a stallion and a yak to pass away so young from a needless fall—why are you blushing?”

“Er... n-no reason!” Sandbar saluted, cracking a sweaty smile. “As always, you make a wise and intuitive... g-guidance counselor! Eheheheheheh...!”

“... … ...” Trixie's lips pursed. She glanced left and right. “Perhaps...” A tiny spark lit up in her eyes. “...you could use more advice?”

“Uhhhhh... maybe?”

“Come...” Trixie gestured down the hallway. “...sit and relax in Trixie's office! We can have a long and heartfelt discussion about your future here in the School of Friendship!”

“Oh! I'd love to, but... uhm...” Sandbar gave his saddlebags a shake. “I'm on my way to the train station, remember?”

“You...” Trixie blinked. “...don't want to have a long and heartfelt discussion... with Trixie?”

“Sorry, Miss Lulamoon...” Sandbar was already backtrotting. “...but if I don't make it to the train on time, Yona's gonna smash me into gravel. And not in the good way.”

“Well, alright...”

“Nice seeing you back safe and sound from your tour, Miss!” Sandbar waved and scampered off. “At least now you get to hang out with all your friends! Enjoy spring break!”

Trixie snarled as he departed. “Maybe Trixie doesn't get to hang out with anypony...!” She hissed. “Least of all hornbrained students named after boring sedimentary features!!!” Her echoing breaths were heard by herself and herself alone. A rolling of her eyes, and she hung her head with a groan. “Trixie is pathetic...” She marched limply towards her office. “...should have just stayed and chatted with Twilight Sparkle's magical lizard assistant.”

Thwump!

Trixie sat limply in the chair before her desk.

The dimly-lit interior of her counseling office loomed around her. It was far dustier now than it ever was under the previous owner.

She gazed lethargically at a pile of letters lying beneath the mail slot of her opened door.

“Meh...”

She looked just as brightly at the pile of student forms and dossiers rising like a skyscraper from the base of her “In” pile.

“Mehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...”

She tilted her head back, shutting her eyes to the scattered rays of morning sunlight dancing through the windows of the place. Tiny particles floated around her in melancholic orbit.

It was dreadfully silent inside the School of Friendship.

Like a grave.

A sepulcher.

“... … ...”

Slowly, Trixie sat up.

Gnawing on her lip, she gazed into the adjacent hallway of the place.

Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak...

With violet telekinesis...

...the door to Headmare Starlight Glimmer's office swung open.

The walls were covered with portraits, photographs, mementos. The entire office was a tapestry of Starlight Glimmer's life. Her past, her present, and her always-shifting future.

Trixie felt very, very small inside such a place. This made it more or less easy for her to scale the lengths of it, trotting across the plush carpet until she stood before the desk. Her eyes remained glued to the standing plaque bearing her best friend's name.

She sighed... and her gaze drifted to the right. An eyebrow raised.

A plant rested limply inside a beige pot. The green had faded from most of its stems. Several of the leaves had gone brown, and others had drooped or even fallen off completely.

Trixie blinked. She trotted past the neglected plant—the desk as well.

Soon, Trixie climbed up onto the comfy couch lying perpendicular to Starlight's desk. She turned around three times, then plopped down on her haunches.

Another sigh.

Trixie's sad eyes scaled the walls of the place. She examined each photo on Starlight's walls—perhaps the first time she had ever consciously done so. She saw Starlight Glimmer posing with herself, Thorax, and Discord—all wearing medals.

But that wasn't the only group Starlight Glimmer was featured in. Trixie saw photographs of the headmare standing side-by-side with Princess Twilight Sparkle. There was another picture of her and Fluttershy at the nature reserve outside of Everfree. Then Starlight was posing alongside Rainbow Dash and the Wonderbolts. The Apple Family. Pinkie Pie at Sugarcube Corner. Rarity in front of a new boutique, alongside Sassy Saddles and Coco Pommel.

Then—framed neatly and centered above Starlight's desk—was a large portrait featuring the Headmare in the center of a massive group hug—one that consisted of Twilight and all her close friends. Starlight looked on the verge of choking, nevertheless enjoying the strong embrace of all her companions... but struggling from it at the same time. She still managed a genuine smile as she squinted out one eye.

“... … ...”

Trixie's eyes wandered back to the desk.

There was a tiny photograph in a stand-up frame. It was small and fragile—but it was obviously placed there so that the Headmare could see it at all times, whether working or not. And it was a picture of Starlight and Trixie sitting side by side, nuzzling while smiling at the camera. Their forelimbs rested casually over each other's withers. A beautifully friendly moment, frozen in time.

A lump formed in Trixie's throat. She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly.

Then...

“...lately, Trixie has been starting to wonder... if she is enough for you...”

Glossy eyes reopened, one after another.

“...if perhaps Trixie could have lived these last few years differently. A little less touring. A little more of the... boring stuff. Like socializing. Lecturing. Friendship lasering...”

Her gaze scraped the walls again.

“Look at you. Look at all the friends you made. All the great and powerful accomplishments.”

A gulp.

“... … ...and you share it all with Trixie. You... and all the amazing things that make up you.”

She slowly shook her head.

“Trixie doesn't deserve it. She never asked for it. But you give it anyway. And sometimes... Trixie wonders...”

She gnawed on her lip. Hesitated. Then blurted:

“...maybe if Trixie had done things differently... lived life differently... then maybe... just maybe... she'd have something nearly as amazing to share with you. To thank you.”

Silence.

“I miss you.”

A shudder.

“I miss everything.”

The shadows of the vacant school coalesced around her.

Trixie lay back on the couch, staring limply at the ceiling. After a while, she glanced at the desk once more.

Another brownish leaf fell from the plant's stem, fluttering like a dead feather to the floor before Trixie's eyes.

The showmare's jaw clenched. She looked across the room, spotting a water cooler. Getting up on stiff limbs, she approached the thing, magically levitated a cup, and gathered a liberal amount of moisture.

With dutiful motions, she trotted back to the desk and gently watered the plant, being sure to spread the liquid to all corners of the dying thing.

Even if it was far too late for the gesture.

Prologue: Star Trix - The Wrath of Clocks

Prologue: Star Trix - The Wrath of Clocks

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April 20th, 1005 ME
18:32:22

With fussy little horse noises, Trixie fought and fumbled her way through a throng of bushes. At long last, she came upon a clearing situated along the eastern fringes of the Everfree Forest. She swatted at some insects, rubbed her face, and squinted forward through haze and sweat.

A cabin stood before her, peaking through the shadows of a dying day. Its rustic wooden surfaces blended with the browning forest under a copper sunset. The general hush of the world gave way to a chorus of crickets, one chirp at a time, like an orchestra tuning up for Trixie's arrival to this soft, sacred place.

Trixie gazed upon the structure with naked eyes for the first time in ages. It appeared like a one-story building—and a very squat one at that—but Trixie knew better. There was a large basement layer beneath sea level; she had seen it dug out. But, to any other passerby, the structure resembled a stout little shack built on rickety planks of wood with a basic stone foundation. The rooftop was flat—consisting of multiple planks of wood interlaced with copper shingles—and over time a fine layer of moss and grass had formed a green earthy layer atop it all.

There were windows—two per side of the rectangular solid building—but they had all been covered with opaque panels of wood. These panels were fresher cuts than the rest of the lumber, and they weren't there the last time Trixie had visited. If she didn't know better, she'd suspected that the building had been condemned. No light was allowed inside, and there were several heavy locks and bolts and seals slathered all over the main entrance, to which a short stack of stairs descended slightly, dug in the earth.

There were several crates, barrels, and storage containers surrounding the south and west edges of the building. These also weren't here the last time Trixie visited. Granted, that was many months ago, and Trixie simply strolled through the laboratory to humor Starlight in exchange for a weekend of tea, shopping, and more tea.

There were times when Starlight Glimmer was just... so insanely, terribly busy that Trixie would bend over backwards and do cartwheels just to have an excuse to see her. That was the one glaring problem with their friendship, and—in truth—it wasn't all Starlight's fault. She was a school's prime headmare and the most powerful sorceress in service to Princess Twilight. Meanwhile, Trixie was a counselor at the same school while mostly focusing on her show tours as a frontlining stage magician.

And yet, somehow, they both made it work—like islands of bliss in a stressful sea. A lot of time, there was a copious amount of playing face. While Trixie admired Starlight's intelligence and skills, she was never too terribly interested in the substance of her science experiments. And Trixie would have been fooling herself if she pretended that Starlight had more than a casual interest in the showmare's long-practiced slight of hoof.

But in the end, their friendship was based less on what they did and more about how they did it. Starlight was a clever pony, and she always knew how to think outside of the box. Trixie wasn't afraid to speak her mind, and Starlight seemed to like how she always went against the flow of the norm. Both had been lonely pariahs in their own separate paths—more than once. They also had sordid pasts of greater or lesser practiced villainy, so that was something they had going for them too.

Equestria was a remarkable land and it had gone through many dramatic changes in recent years. But even when things were at their most stressful—with villains coming within inches of conquering the continent and former monarchs retiring for good—Starlight and Trixie always found time for one another. Precious, sacred, wholesome time...

...which made it all the more frustrating that Starlight had posted that note in the Castle dismissing Trixie for a little bit longer, and when Trixie finally arrived there at the sorceress' laboratory—

“Where in Tartarus is she?” Trixie snorted, stamping her hooves down in the soil while frowning. “She'd better be cloning cancer-curing-genius-squirrels-on-wings because this is no way to dip out on Trixie!”

Fuming...

Fuming... …

Fuming... … …

...Trixie marched around the house. She crept up to each window, squinting, cat-pawing the thick planks of wood hammered over the windows.

“What... did she become a vampire all of a sudden...?”

As she continued her slow orbit of the structure, serenaded by songbirds and cicadas, she took notice of the crates around her. Many of them had been hastily open, with lids and nails lying about the grass as if they had been freshly-pried open with a crowbar. Trixie knelt once or twice, inspecting white crystal vials spilling out of two or three of the containers. Moisture and mold had obscured the paper labels, but she was certain she saw an insignia or two belying the past presence of “enchanted manadust.”

“Hrmmmm...” Trixie sniffed the bottle caps, making a face. “...Canterlot reagent. Expensive stuff.”

She finished her loop, trotting down the steps and approaching the front door to the building.

The amount of locks, bolts, and metal crossbeams slathered across the entrance was absurd. There were enough seals to keep a raging manticore out. Or perhaps an entire herd of them.

“...maybe she's always been a vampire?”

Nevertheless, Trixie pulled and tugged on a few padlocks like she was an impatient filly trying to open a present on Hearth's Warming Day.

“Nnngh... eugh... mmfff!” Trixie sweated, huffed, and jumped back from the steps, frowning at the building as a whole. “Starliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight,” she whimpered, making sure the entire foundation shook from her whiny vocalization. “What are you even doing in therrrrrrrrre?”

Her tail flicked as her lips pouted.

“Can't you let Trixie innnn? I won't interfere with any of your experiments! I promise!”

Dead silence.

“Is this because of the teacups? Trixie has apologized for that! Multiple times!”

More silence. Even deader.

“Hellllloooooooooooooooooooo?” Her ears folded back. “Are you even in there?”

All was still. The crickets doubled. The sky above darkened.

A blue jay landed randomly on the rooftop greenery, caught a glance of Trixie, and flitted right off.

The mare huffed.

“Fine then! Stick to your experiments! But you're missing out on a reallllllllly snazzy anecdote I learned while I was in Las Pegasus!”

Trixie slowly pivoted her body while keeping her bright violet eyes locked like an infant's on the building.

“Trixie is trotting away now!” She stomped in place. “Totalllllllllly trotting away!” Clop! Clop! “It's how Trixie gets her exercise these days!” Clop! Clop! Clop! “By leaving!”

More silence.

She huffed again.

“Are you sleeping in there? I can't imagine that place has air conditioning! You're... you're not dying from heat stroke, are you?” She cupped a hoof around her blue muzzle. “Because that would really chap Trixie's caboose! If you died from heat stroke! And stuff!”

An errant breeze rolled through the pine trees stretching above the cabin.

There was still no reply from within.

“Maybe...” Trixie's voice lowered as she shuffled up to a window. “Maybe if I just got a peek...” She licked her lips as her horn glowed. “Just one...”

A single plank of wood shook on its nail fasteners.

“Come on...” Trixie magically pulled and tugged on the thing. “...let... Trixie... see!

The plank shook and wobbled and—CRKKKK!!!—flew off its hinges, sailing towards Trixie's glowing skull like a sideways guillotine blade.

“WAAAIEE!” She fell backwards as the plank spun overhead—

Flassssh!

—and stopped in midair before another glowing horn. An equine figure in a dark gray cloak and saddlebags stood in the center of the clearing.

“Guh!” Trixie panted, staring at the figure upside down. “Excuse you, tall dark and creepy!”

With lilac hooves, Starlight Glimmer lowered the hood from her crown, revealing a frazzled mane and baggy eyes. “Trixie...?” She blinked thickly, teetering slightly. “What are you doing here?”

“Starlight!!!” Trixie hopped up on all fours. She paused in beaming just long enough to blush. “Erm... sorry about the 'tall' part.”

“Hrmmmfff...” Starlight performed another slow blink. She trotted on heavy hooves past the showmare, levitating the plank of wood with her. “...didn't you see the note I left for you at the Castle?”

“Uhhhhhhhh...” Trixie delicately touched her front hooves together. “...maaaaaaaaybe.”

“And—as always—you decided to ignore my words and do what you wanted anyways.” Starlight's eyes narrowed as she placed the plank of wood back into place against the window. “Typical.”

“Hey! Trixie hasn't seen her best friend in weeks!” Trixie frowned, gesturing. “She comes back from a long tour in Las Pegasus and it's almost like she doesn't exist!”

“Trixie, we both know that's not true...”

“Then why are you pushing Trixie away?”

“I'm not pushing anypony away,” Starlight snarled. She turned around and rubbed a hoof over her tired face. “I'm a very busy mare. You know this. We've had to work schedules around this.”

“Trixie knows all these things. But somehow... this is different!” Trixie approached Starlight with a worried look on her face. “Look at you...!” She caressed Starlight's tired muzzle and then batted at her tangled mane. “I know you might do experiments in a rat's nest, but since when did you carry a rat's nest on your head?”

“I... I've been preoccupied,” Starlight muttered, pushing Trixie's forelimb away. “I haven't got time to fuss with my mane.”

Trixie's muzzle twisted. “Well that much is obvious...!”

Starlight sighed and trotted off.

Trixie rolled her eyes. “Trixie is kidding! She's kidding. But call me selfish all you want.” She gulped and waved after Starlight. “I'm worried about you, Starlight!”

Starlight shuffled to a stop beside some of the open crates. She hung her head.

Trixie paced slowly towards her. “You've always been obsessed with your science experiments. But not enough to lose sleep and hygiene over it!” A wince. “And not enough to lose sight of Trixie.”

“I haven't lost sight of you, Trix,” Starlight said. Her tail flicked limply beneath her cloak. “I haven't lost sight of anypony. In fact... I've had... everypony on my mind as of late...”

“And what of yourself?” Trixie gestured. “What of the Great and Powerful Trixie's most awesome assistant?”

Starlight was silent. Trixie watched as she reached underneath her cloak, fumbled, and ultimately produced a stopwatch with four overlapping faces. Starlight's head tilted; she gazed intently at the device for a few prolonged seconds.

Trixie blinked. “Starlight...?”

The sorceress snapped out of it. “Sorry. S-sorry, I...” The mare turned halfway to look at Trixie. “...I've got a tight schedule to keep.”

“... … ...” Trixie's eyes narrowed. “When was the last time you slept, Starlight?”

“It doesn't matter.” Starlight trotted past her—teetered once—and made for the steps descending into the sunken cabin's entrance. “Once I've gotten all of my work done, then I can rest. Not before. Not after.”

“Oh, horse hockey!” Trixie cursed, frowning at her. “Haven't—like—one of your laser-blasting friendship lessons with Twilight and the Fruity Five taught you a thing or two about overworking it?”

“Some lessons don't stack up in the long run...”

“Is that the headmare of the School of Friendship talking?” Trixie leaned back and folded her forelimbs. “That's it. I'm telling.”

Starlight turned to squint up at her. “Telling what?”

“Telling on you!”

“... … ...you wouldn't.”

“Mmmhmm! To the Princess of Friendship!”

“... … ...you would.”

“The Grrreat and Powerrrful Tattle-Tellerrr!” Trixie stuck a tongue out and winked. “That's what will be marked on my grave if need be. Better mine than yours!”

Starlight smirked. “You're such a villain.”

Trixie pointed. “You first.”

“Well, technically—”

“Uh uh uh!” Trixie shook a hoof. “Somepony else was subjugating innocent ponies into a totalitarian commune of lies long before Trixie ever discovered the Alicorn Amulet!”

“Well, somepony was messing with a sonic rainboom courtesy of Star Swirl the Bearded long before—!” In the middle of her good-humored retort, Starlight stopped entirely. Her smile gave way to a painful grimace, and her pupils shrunk—fixated on everything and nothing.

Trixie blinked, concerned.

Starlight cleared her throat. She waved a hoof tiredly. “Tell whoever... say whatever... but I can't stop working, Trixie.”

“Awwwwwwwwwww...” Trixie pleaded with her forelimbs pressed together. “Can't we hang out for just a little bit? Pleeeeeease?” Her ears folded back. “And if you can't—then fine—but at least take a nap or something! You look like the living dead!” A pout. “It's gotten Trixie worried.”

“... … ...” Starlight took a long, warm breath. Her cheeks appeared rosier for a blissfully brief second. “Alright, Trix. We'll hang out.”

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay!”

“... … … tomorrow morning.”

“Boooooooooooo!”

“I mean it! I... I want to be with you...” Starlight gulped. She breathed. “I want to see you... more and more. I'll...” A slight shudder. “Ten o'clock in the morning. We'll... we'll have tea at the castle.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Pepper Pig Swear?”

Starlight chuckled—a thing that nearly sent her teetering. “It's Pinkie Pie Swear, but sure.”

“Pffft...” Trixie rolled her eyes. “How should Trixie know?”

“You're right...” Starlight nodded. A gulp. “And I'm sorry for that.”

Trixie blinked. “For what...?”

“Somehow... one way or another...” Starlight looked sincerely at the pony. “...I will make time for you, Trixie. I will make time for all of us.”

Trixie fidgeted awkwardly. “O... K...” Her ears perked up. “But tea is just fine too!”

“Uh huh.” Starlight forced herself to face the entrance and summoned an enchanted glow through her body. “See ya, Trix.”

FLASSSSH!!!

And Starlight Glimmer teleported inside the cabin—or so Trixie judged from the flash of light emanating from between the cracks in the plank...

...as well as Starlight's absence.

Trixie weathered a long, depressing sigh.

“Ten o'clock sharp.” She turned and trotted away from the laboratory... away from the cabin... away from the clearing. “Ten o'clock sharp.” She repeated. “That's only... fourteen and a half hours from now.” Her trot broke into a happy canter as she smiled. “Better spend the night doing what Trixie does best!”

April 20th, 1005 ME
22:47:55

“Waaaaaaa-aaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaaa...!” Trixie sobbed into her pillow. The mournful throes sent her hammock swaying. Left and right. Left and right.

More sobs. Echoing across the wagon interior.

“Waaaaa-haaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaa...!” She wept, sniffled, and wept some more. “Noponyyyyy lovesssss Trixiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeee! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaa—” The telekinetically floated a rectangle of peanut butter crackers to her messy muzzle. “Nomf. Nomf—omff...” A gulp. “Waaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

The blue crystal in the ceiling of the wagon flickered from the sonic reverberations of her drama show.

Nearby boxes rattled. Cracker crumbs littered the floor.

“I'm just a joke to everyponyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!” She floated another treat to her muzzle. “Nomf... nomffff...” A gulp. She snorted. Hiccuped. “Even Starlight can't stand meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

Once more, she reached into the flimsy package with her magic...

...but nothing floated out.

“Huh?” Trixie sat up, rubbing the tears dry from her face—the rubbing again just for rubbing's sake. “What gives?”

She lifted the package in her magic, rotated it, shook it.

“Oh come on...”

Her sobs swiftly turned to snarls.

“Oh come on!”

She tossed the empty package away and leaned off the edge of her swaying hammock... reaching for a shelf where a metal can stood.

“Trixie can't be out of peanut butter crackers...!”

She gnashed her crumbly teeth, reaching, struggling...

“How can she have her Great and Powerful soul-search without Great and Powerful soul-searching snack treats?! AAA-AAACKIES!”

She was falling forward.

Flailing.

Then—

—like an adorable blue anvil, she plummeted to the floor below.

TH-THUD!

“Ooomf!” Trixie rolled onto her back, legs sticking up like a fuzzy cockroach. She watched as boxes full of stage props teetered on either side of her—murderous monoliths on the brink. “No... no no...” Her panicked eyes bounced left and right. Meanwhile, the boxes plunged towards her like a parted sea coming back together. “No no no no no—!!!”

Crassssssssssh!

The whole wagon shook.

A veritable pile of junk now stacked halfway to the ceiling.

Meanwhile, the hammock spun around in multiple corkscrews... … ...before finally settling to a lazy dangle.

Crickets.

FLASSSSH!

The junk exploded upwards—a volcano of nick-knacks. “Mrmmmf!” Trixie sat up, frustrated and dizzy. Thwappp! An object fell over her face, blinding her. “Grffff—get off Trixie!” She peeled the item off with her hoof and made to toss it across the wagon. “Trixie swears, she will throw you out the window—”

She realized she was holding her scrapbook.

“... … ...” Trixie eyes slowly rolled. She expelled a sigh during the extent of it. And once it had crested to a stop—along with everything else in the wrecked wagon—she surrendered to the moment, opening the book. Gazing at the later pages.

Again, the sheets were almost entirely glossed over with Trixie, Trixie, and more Trixie. The showmare found herself skipping and flipping through the contents—if only to get to the sparse photographs that featured Starlight in them.

And yet each appearance of the best-bestie sent shudders up and down the unicorn's spine. It was a caustic cocktail of emotions with each glance, and she retreated backwards through time, dipping into the familiar, boring, ever-pervasive blue.

It humbled Trixie to know that the scrapbook mirrored the color of her mind. It was once a very secure texture—and it still was. But it was only now—at a time when there was no escaping the night and no remaining peanut butter treats to cast islands against the mist—that Trixie could take a step back and admit how...

How boring it all was.

And how damnably close she had gotten to getting used to it all.

Getting used to herself.

The mares back at the Castle of Friendship were right. Trixie did shun friendship and social gatherings. The whole concept was far too complex, too colorful—that it'd unlock a spectrum Trixie was too uncertain to tread. A simple canvas meant a simple mind, upon which to paint the ideas and creative ventures that would get the showmare ahead in her business. That would help her magnify herself in the one niche field in life that she had chosen to excel—for better or for worse.

It was easy to be Great and Powerful when there were very few details to take seriously. Other than herself.

Trixie was gnawing her lip at this point. She took a bold breath and flipped back towards the middle of the scrapbook—right before a grand sea of white. A blank and uncertain future.

The color lilac—Starlight's smile and beauty and charisma—marked the start of a brand new spectrum. It felt like a damned shame that Trixie continued drowning it out in the all-too-familiar blue. It was no wonder that Starlight was locking Trixie out of whatever important thing she was doing. Trixie didn't give Starlight a chance to breathe...

And yet Starlight gave her everything. It was more than what Trixie deserved. More than Trixie could ever have asked for.

“More than Trixie could ever say...”

A stifled whimper.

“...Trixie wishes to know why she's Great and Powerful to you... … ...somehow... ... … even after all this time... … … after all that Trixie has done... … … and... … ...after all that Trixie has never done...”

Trixie sat in silence. Alone in tiny in such a claustrophobic, forgotten home. So impermanent that it needed wheels to seek out something to anchor to. Under the blue haze of the light above, she blended in with all the junk tossed about.

“What...” A quiet shudder. She caressed a lilac pony in a photograph. “...would you do when you feel this way?”

A beat.

Trixie blanched—for she knew the answer as soon as she asked it.

The next movement nearly made her vomit. Nevertheless, she stood up... and swam through the scattered junk towards a cabinet set in the wall. Opening a panel, she produced a scroll of paper and a pen. Levitating both above her, she climbed back into the hammock, laid back, and began writing.

“Hoofdini help me,” Trixie slurred. She brought the pen to paper:

Dear Princess Celestia...

The mare's eyes crossed. She winced, groaned, and scratch-scratch-scratched the top line before continuing. “Get with the times, Trixie.” She held her breath as she concentrated:

Dear Princess CelestiaTwilight Sparkle,

The Great and Powerful Trixie here. You may have heard of me. I once imprisoned your entire town into worshiping me after I defeated you fair and square you in a magic duel. It was pretty cool.

Anyways, let's not reminisce on the good times in the past. The Great and Powerful Trixie is feeling something that usually plagues most ponies beneath her: glumness. Is 'glumness' a word? Well, it is now. Trixie declares it.

Just why is Trixie experiencing glumness? Equestrian scientists likely couldn't figure it out. I doubt that you can. But I've been told that 'Friendship Letters' are the key to learning valuable lessons... or some such crap.

But what is there to write to you about? Trixie has only ever had one friend. Starlight Glimmer. You may have heard of her—she also defeated you in a magic duel. Multiple, in fact. Something to do with time travel. Pretty awesome, if you ask Trixie. At first, that was the first thing that gave us common ground. Our awesomeness—that and defeating you.

But now, things feel... less awesome. Because there's less of me around! Meaning... there's less of Trixie in Starlight's presence. And that... feels pretty glum.

Don't get Trixie wrong. She's pretty awesome without Starlight. But it somehow feels... less so... when Starlight isn't there with Trixie. And the solution isn't finding more friends. Or newer friends. Nopony can replace Starlight. Nopony should.

But Trixie is getting the distinct feeling that Starlight—just maybe—doesn't feel the same glumness that Trixie does. And I think there's a reason for this. She has history. History with you. History with your friends. History with that lizard slave of yours. History with... lots of ponies. Sure, she made a lot of enemies for a while there in her life. But she made a lot of friends too. Even when she was an awesomely evil and diabolical dictator pony. She had something that Trixie doesn't. And I think she still does.

And Trixie has begun to wonder... what if... what if maybe... Trixie has been doing it wrong all this time. What if Trixie could have done things differently. What if Trixie could have had what Starlight had for all these years... all these months... all these weeks—with you, Sparkle. With your friends. With this place. With Ponyville. All the ponies and donkeys and mules and squirrels and whatever. All the while Trixie was doing magic shows. All the while Trixie was on stage. All the while Trixie was in her wagon. So many nights—just Trixie and her wagon. What if things had been different? What if Trixie had trained herself to be into boring social thingies all these years. What if she could have spent all these years writing letters about friendship lessons to the Princess instead of cramming it all in right now in this dumb wagon and all of her peanut butter cracker treats are gone and this is stupid and you're stupid and everything's stupid and Trixie is stupiddjkaf;kljafd;kjafdlkjakl;df

“Grrrrrnnghghhhh!” Trixie gnashed her teeth as she bunched the scroll up into a crumpled ball and tossed it across the room. It bounced a few stubborn times—much to her chagrin—until finally settling to a stop somewhere out of sight.

The mare slumped back in her hammock, swaying a bit as she frowned towards the ceiling.

“... … ...what is the use?” Her eyes shut sadly. “It's too late to change anything.” Her ears folded as she curled up into a fuzzy blue ball, cuddling her pillow. “...time is not on Trixie's side...”

She didn't bother with the crystal overhead. The light dimmed on its own, casting her into blissful darkness.

It took far longer than desired to find sleep. It was a torture Trixie was used to.

Prologue: Interview With The Lizard

Prologue: Interview With The Lizard

April 21st, 1005 ME
10:17:23

Knock Knock Knock!

Trixie lay crookedly across the hammock inside her wagon.

Knock Knock Knock!!

The mare snorted, snored, and trilled in her sleep.

Knock Knock Knock!!!

“Hey!”

A muffled voice shook the doorframe from outside.

“Trixie!”

The wake up call persisted, combined with the heavy knocking.

“Are you awake in there?!?”

“Mrmmmfff...” Trixie sat up—a river of drool clinging to her lower muzzle. She blinked blearily at the walls and rubbed her frazzled, sleep-stretched face. “Guuuuuh... Not enough... mmmmm... marshmallows in Trixie's coffee...”

“Trixie you there?”

“Trixie, you there?” She echoed, rubbing her face. She paused in the middle of it, then popped one bloodshot eye open. “Trixie, you there???”

Her gaze flew to the mess beneath her hammock. Then to the daylight squinting in through the shudders. And finally to the crooked clock on her wall that hasn't worked properly since her tour in Fillydelphia.

“Oh butts!” Trixie floundered and floundered and floundered and—flailed—and finally threw herself off the hammock. “Oh butts on a butt cracker!”

“Is everything okay in there—?!”

“Starlight is so sorry, Trixie!” Trixie spat, hopping over debris and pausing only to straighten her mane. “I-I mean... Trixie is so sorry, Trixie... I mean—!”

She tripped over a pile of smoke pellets, somersaulted, hopped back up, tripped again, and fell against the door.

“Ooomf! Grrnnngh—”

Using all her strength, she slapped the lock loose and swung the door open wide to the blinding morning light. Her body slumped halfway down the wooden steps propped against her parked wagon. Coughing up dirt and grass blades, she nevertheless smiled up at the figure before her.

“~Goooood morning, Starlight~!” Trixie sputtered through a crooked grin.

“Uhhhhhhhhhh...” Spike hovered in place on leathery wings. A shrug of his scaly forelimbs. “I'm not Starlight.”

“... … ...” Trixie frowned while fallen in a forty-five degree slant. “Why aren't you Starlight?”

“I guess it's... all thanks to the egg I hatched from? Eheh...” Spike cleared his throat. “Still, I think Starlight was here not that long ago.”

“She was?!?!” Trixie's rear limbs kicked and bucked against the wagon for a few embarrassing seconds. At long last, her blue lump of a body rolled over until she plopped upright, sitting on her hooves and covered in flakes of grass. “What? When? Where? How? Why?” She spat out some dewy vegetation. “Pffft! And to what extent?!”

“Look there,” Spike said, pointing at Trixie's wagon wheel.

“... … …?” Trixie spun around. Leaning against a single wheel, there was a small box of tea bags, along with a stack of saucers and two teacups. “Huh?”

“I think she left those there for you,” Spike said. “There's a letter pinned to the batch of tea.” He touched two claws together in mild shame. “I hope you don't mind that I glanced over it. I figured that if it was a message, it'd be best if you were awake for it. That's why I knocked just now.”

“Let Trixie look at that...” Frowning, the mare plucked the letter loose from the wagon wheel and scanned it with squinty eyes.

Dear Trixie,

I am so so terribly sorry, but this experiment that I've been working on overnight has completely dominated my attention. I absolutely must get it done with, or else all this time will be wasted. That means I'm going to be a teensy weensy bit late for our tea session this morning. I dropped this by early while on the way to and from the Royal Storehouse for some more magical ingredients. I figured you'd be sleeping in late—as usual. So hopefully you're not too upset.

In any case, I'll be joining you sooner than later. That for sure is a Pinkie Pie Swear. Go on ahead and start pouring yourself some tea without me. I shouldn't be long. Plus, it's your favorite flavor. I ordered it myself. Please try it out? I look forward to hearing you tell me what you think of this blend once I'm talking to you face to face. Should be an hour or so from ten. I hope that's okay.

Your friend for all time—now and forever,
Starlight Glimmer

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh...” Trixie hung her head backwards and glared into the sky. “Why are her magical experiments so blasted important all of a sudden?”

“Yes, well, at least you've got your tea!” Spike put on a hopeful smile and raised both arms. “Ta-daaaaa...!”

“Oh, lizard servant,” Trixie sighed, staring sadly at Starlight's note in her tender grasp. “You make for a lousy prestige.”

“I'm... uh... s-sorry?”

Trixie squinted at the words towards the bottom of the page. “So formal. Starlight must really think that Trixie is mad.”

“Well, aren't you?” Spike sweated slightly. “I mean—don't get me wrong—but it's kind of a nice color on you.”

“Mmmmmmm...” Trixie tongued the inside of her muzzle. “Trixie prefers 'mildly abrasive.'”

“Is there a shorthand for that?”

“'Great and Powerful' tends to work.”

“That's not exactly shorthan—”

“Anyways, Trixie isn't so much mad as she is... disappointed.” The mare stood up, dusting herself off. “Still... Starlight did bring Trixie her favorite blend.” A calm breath. “And she did say she'd only be an hour or so late.”

“Well, it's about a quarter past ten o'clock now,” Spike said, glancing at the blue sky and flitting birds overhead. “Is that too far from your scheduled hang out?”

“Mmmmmmmm... not really...”

“Well, I'll leave you to... whatever, I guess.” Spike waved and flapped his way towards the Castle entrance. “That tea looks delicious, by the way. Best shared in the company of friends!”

“Uh huh. Sure. Whatever—” As Trixie levitated the teabag boxes...

...she paused.

Her gaze turned towards the wagon interior. Between the piles of junk and the dangling hammock, Trixie caught sight of her scrapbook. It lay open to one of the last pages plastered with photos. An image of Starlight and Trixie beamed at the viewer just before a grand, inescapable sea of white.

“... … ...” Trixie squirmed in place. At last—wrenching her eyes from the scrapbook—she jerked her gaze towards Spike. “Say... Mister Dragon.”

“I... actually have a name but I'll go with 'Mister Dragon' because it somehow sounds handsomer.” Spike flew back with a polite smile. His claws were folded behind his levitating backside. “What's up, Trix? I can call you 'Trix', right?”

“Sure. Fine.” Trixie contorted the muscles of her jaw in order to pronounce what came next: “Would. You. Care. To. Join. Trixie. For. Some. Tea?” She squinted one eye like she was defusing an unknown bomb. “...Friend?”

“Heyyyy...” Spike touched down at the base of the steps, smiling. “Don't mind if I do! I mean...” He pointed with a claw. “So long as it doesn't carve too big a hole into yours and Starlight's supply.”

“That depends.” Trixie tossed her mane and tilted her nose up. “Do dragons have too voracious of a thirst?”

“Well, we breathe an awful lot of fire,” Spike said, slowly following Trixie up the steps and into her wagon. “But... sandstone and quartz tends to offset that. Especially when dipped into golddust.”

“Hmmm...” Trixie navigated the cluttered forest of her wagon interior and opened a cabinet, magically pulling out a tea set. “Trixie suspects it will be a drop of water inside a volcano, then.”

“Well, that's one heck of an analogy...” Spike struggled and fumbled with side-stepping through the cramped place. He wrung his claws as his slitted eyes darted left and right. “I... uh... I've never been inside your wagon before.”

“Consider it an esteemed privilege, courtesy of the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

“It's... uh...” Spike smiled through a brief layer of sweat. “... … ...it's a lot messier than I expected.”

She spun her head about with a furrowed brow. “Excuuuuuse Trixie?”

“Did I say 'messy?'” Spike raised a claw. “I-I meant 'dense!'”

“Mmmmmmmmmm...”

“Y'know... like a good book! A real page-turner!” Spike's nose scraped past boxes full of stage props. “...like War and Prance.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie has a very elaborate stage show to perform in multiple... multiple venues all across Equestria.” She collected water into a teapot and zapped the base of it with a heating spell. As steam rose from the liquid, she produced four tea bags from the box Starlight sent her and dipped them in. “She can't afford to get rid of any of this stuff or else she might end up short-hoofed at one of her many performances!”

“Including this stack of boxes that are covered in dust?”

“Those are disappearing and reappearing snakes for the street charm trick that Trixie has reserved for whenever the pilgrims from Saddle Arabia visit once a year!”

Spike blanched. “You have snakes boxed up in this wagon?! Wouldn't they be dead from starvation?”

“Silly dragon...” Trixie smirked while dipping the teabags in and out. “The snakes are fake.”

“Oh.” Spike tongued the inside of his mouth. “Doesn't bode well for the realism of the presentation, does it?”

“Just because some of the props may not be 'alive' doesn't make the actual performance any less real or impactful in the heart of the audience.” Trixie turned to squint at him, gesturing in the light of her enchanted horn. “Once you've captured the imagination of your very own crowd, you can use stars on string to make their dreams come true!”

“Wow. That's kind of a snazzy way of doing things.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie does not do 'snazzy,'” the showmare said. “Try upgrading that to 'Dazzling.'”

“Heh. Sure.” Spike folded his arms and smirked. “Y'know, I consider myself something of a thespian soul.”

“Pfffft!” Trixie's eyes rolled as she turned back to her tea brewing. “Sure you do.”

“Straight up! I hosted Twilight's first ever Hearth's Warming Pageant!” He gestured. “And then there was that show that Pinkie Pie and I hosted for the Appleloosan buffalo and settler ponies.” He scratched his chin in thought. “Rarity's fashion show before the Great Galloping Gala...”

“Trixie never heard of these venues.”

“Oh, they were all a very... very long time ago,” Spike said. “And most of them were thrown together at the last minute.” He blew a puff of smoke sideways and smirked in mix-pride. “I guess you could say I'm an expert on improv.”

“Uh huh.”

“Y'know... we should do a show together!” Spike beamed. “I bet nopony's ever heard of a dragon being sawed in half!”

“Oh, please, Trixie would never debase herself by allowing—” Trixie's pupils shrank. She gazed at the wall in intense thought. “Dragon scales... being sawed in half...” She rubbed her chin. “That would be pretty mesmerizing...”

“Or at least... y'know... let me have a go at reorganizing all of your supplies.” Spike grimaced as he stared at the junk all around him. “I'm sure you have your own delightful chaos to juggle, Trixie, but you could save soooooooooooo much more space if you really wanted to.” He pointed at himself with a pleasant expression. “Trust me! I'm an expert on shaping things up for gifted ponies!”

“You... … ...” Trixie blinked over at him. “... … ...would make such a nice offer to Trixie?”

“Sure!” He shrugged. “I mean, why not?”

Trixie opened her muzzle, lingered in place, then poked at the cabinet beneath the shelf where she was brewing tea. “Hmmm...” she hummed. “It's not often that Trixie finds help... from such an eager source.”

Spike struck a proud pose, sticking his scaly chin up. “That's because you've never had a dragon assistant before!”

“No. I suppose not.” Trixie cleared her throat and tossed her mane. “Trixie expects that she would have to pay you.”

“Eh. It's on the house...” Spike waved.

Trixie's brow furrowed. “Really?”

“You think this place is a mess? You should see how Twilight leaves her study here in Ponyville ever since being stationed at her throne in Canterlot!” Spike nudged a few boxes, smirking. “And she only pays me in books!”

“That... sounds positively pathetic.”

“Eh. I'm used to it. But—y'know... she's royalty... and that sorta makes me royalty.” A draconian wink. “A lot of luxury comes with having a part-time job in Canterlot.”

“I imagine so...”

“And soon it will be full time!” Spike rubbed his palms together, bearing a fanged grin. “Then I will be livin' it up! Just you wait!” He cleared his throat, then took on a slightly more dignified stance. “Besides, if I wanted to be paid, it'd be in delicious rubies. And—no offense—but I don't think you have those lying around this wagon-home of yours... unless you have a gem-juggling act for the stage.”

“Trixie juggles many things.” Trixie said. “None of which involves fragile currency.”

“But I thought magicians were always taking coins out of other ponies' ears...”

“Coins and gems are very different. And the latter would require donkey ears to even remotely work.”

“Hey...” Spike shrugged. “You're the expert.”

“Indeed Trixie is.”

He craned his neck. “How's the tea comin'?”

“Tea has arrrrrived!” Trixie said, rolling her r's through a victorious grin.

“Cool beans!” Spike exclaimed, perking up. “I didn't even ask. What's the flavor?”

“Honey lemon,” Trixie said.

“Really...?” Spike arching an eyecrest. “Sounds like a cough drop.”

“You're a cough drop,” the showmare retorted. “Besides... I've yet to discover a way to distill peanut butter into a brew. And by that I mean Starlight has yet to discover a way.”

“You're really keen on letting Starlight choose the flavors, huh?”

“She got me into drinking tea,” Trixie said, pouring two cups of the steaming quaff. “She says that it 'calms her nerves, makes her relax, helps her think,' yadda yadda yadda...”

“You... don't sound very enthused.”

“It was never the tea itself that Trixie enjoyed,” she said, putting the kettle back in place and levitating two full teacups. “Not at first, that is.” She trotted carefully across the crowded wagon, floating one cup beside her and sending another slowly Spike's way. “For the most part, it's just been an excuse for Trixie to steal some of Starlight's time for hanging out.”

“Ah. So... it's less about the tea and more about the friends!” Spike caught the cup, cradled it, and smirked. “Well, guess I should feel special, then!”

“Yes, you—” Trixie blinked, standing in place. She looked at Spike, at her teacup, then at Spike again. “Hmmm.” A shrug. “Anyways...” She leaned back and blew at the steamy surface of the liquid. “...the calming effect has grown on Trixie.” She tilted her head forward for a sip—

“Hey! Is that a scrapbook?”

“...?” Trixie sat up straight. Her lips hadn't even touched the liquid. Her eyes fell on the green book that had fallen to the ground, splayed open with the photographs exposed. “Oh. Meh. Just a collection of photos...”

“Are they SFW?”

“Huh?”

“Y'know. Safe For Whelps!”

“... … ...yeah?”

“Nifty!” Spike pointed with a claw. “Mind if I take a look?”

“Meh.” Trixie shrugged, eyes rolling. “They're just pics Trixie took of the beautiful sights while on tour throughout the years.”

Spike grabbed the book, sat down, and propped it in his lap. “They're... mostly just pics of you.”

An artery pulsed in the mare's forehead. “It's as Trixie said...”

“Oh hey!” Spike took a sip—unaffected by the still-steaming-hot temperature of his brew. He smiled and pointed at a page about one third of the way through the book. “This is from years ago! Isn't that amazing?”

Trixie cocked her head aside. “What's so amazing about it?”

“Just... look how different Ponyville is! No Castle! No School! It's just as quiet and unassuming as it was when Twilight and I first moved here!”

“Mmmm...” Trixie slumped a bit, rubbing the back of her neck and blushing. “...Trixie didn't take a whole lot of photos of Ponyville...” She gazed dejectedly at her dull reflection in the tea. “...not the first time I was here, at least.”

“Hmmmm...” Spike took another sip as his slitted eyes scanned the next few pages. “Guess I can't blame you.”

“So many photos Trixie has taken,” Trixie muttered. Her face in the steaming tea stared back, layered with exhaustion and monotony. “But... Trixie can't say that there are many memories.” She leaned back, looking through the stream at all the collected junk in her mobile home. “For nearly a decade, Trixie has been dedicated to her craft. To her calling. Once upon a time... it was all very exciting. Thrilling, even. And that's what got Trixie going to begin with... I-I think... … the sheer enthusiasm of starting out. The dream of impressing so many ponies and gaining so many admirers. But—the more Trixie looks back at it all—the more she realizes how little she's really accomplished. Just chasing a dream for the sake of a dream... but never finding a place to settle down. To take root. And every space she occupies is just... empty. Those photos—they try to fill in the gaps between, but with what? A singular, lonesome color? It was once bedazzling to Trixie, but now? It's so familiar. So stale. And a constant reminder that maybe... just maybe—all these years and tours and accomplishments—has really just been time wasted. And Trixie will never... ever get those years back.”

Silence.

Trixie grimaced. She had said too much.

Nevertheless, Spike hadn't provided a response. Perhaps it was for the best.

“Well...” Trixie shrugged, smirking. “At least Trixie was a hero who saved Equestria, once.” She leaned in for her first sip of the delicious brew. “She can proudly squeeze that underneath her saddle—”

Steaming hot liquid rippled against her front left fetlock.

“Ow—!” The mare leapt in place, nearly tossing the contents of her floating teacup. “Ow ow ouch!” She reared her front hooves, backed up, and glared down at the offending spill. “What in Luna's name—?!” Her lips pursed as her pupils shrank.

The floor of Trixie's wagon was pooling over with steaming liquid. This originated from a fallen, overturned teacup. And that originated from Spike's body...

...which was lying limply on the floor with limbs splayed randomly about.

“... … ...” Trixie cocked her head curiously to the side. “... … ...lizard servant?”

There was no response. Spike's scaley chest rose slowly up and down, and there were more than a few spastic twitches to his face and spines.

Trixie blinked. She gently floated her cup of tea down onto a random box, then shuffled over to where the whelp had collapsed. “Uhhhhm...” She pensively leaned forward and softly batted the little dragon's face and neck like a curious blue cat. “Hello? Equestria to Twilight's chameleon assistant? Are you there?”

After half-a-dozen repeated smacks to the face, Spike still remained unconscious. His snout hung open—a serpent's tongue dangling limp and dribbling with drool. There was the hint of rapid eye movement beneath the crests of his face.

Trixie bit her lip. Trotting closer, she leaned down and pressed her fuzzy ear against his reptilian belly. The contact was far hotter to the touch than she expected, but she listened anyways.

Sure enough, Spike was still breathing. The showmare could feel his lungs moving—along with a questionably pronounced gurgle issuing from his belly... repeating every other breath or so.

Trixie stood up. She rubbed her chin while gazing contemplatively at the whelp. Slowly, a curtain of alarm washed over her azure features. Her gaze darted upwards—locking onto her own teacup that she placed on the box. Cautiously, she approached the container... lifting its steamy contents with a wave of telekinesis. She held her breath as she floated the thing closer to her squinting gaze for inspection.

There, beyond the steam and the rippling surface of the broth, Trixie could make out tiny particulates floating through the liquid. They had a noticeably scarlet look to them—like microscopic rubies swarming through the drink.

Awake with sobering curiosity, Trixie shuffled over to her cabinet. With glowing magic, she opened a cupboard, tossed loose a fresh smattering of junk, then pulled out one of many dusty textbooks. The binding was fitted with naturalist motifs: swirling vines, leaves, and flowers. The unicorn flipped through several pages, then lingered on one particular portion of the book. She ran her hoof down the floating tome, taking its words to heart. Then, pivoting towards the levitating teacup, she murmured an old pony incantation and aimed her horn at the beverage.

Zaaaap!

The steaming liquid floated up out of the cup, encased in an invisible rectangular solid conjured by Trixie. Then—as the showmare sweated with concentration—the floating liquid flattened and shed itself free of the tiny ruby particulates. Trixie's gaze narrowed on the scarlet dust—which she condensed together into the air until they formed a solid pinhead singularity. She then compared this sample to an array of examples illustrated in the book beside her.

At long last, she paled and murmured: “Cockatrice blood...”

Trixie's muzzle hung open in disbelief.

“This much of a dose... could put a manticore to sleep...”

She looked at Spike's unconscious body.

“Starlight once taught Trixie that...”

A lump formed in her throat. She looked from Spike to the batch of tea that had been delivered to her wagon, partially opened.

“Starlight. You... … ... you... tr-tried to drug Trixie?” A grimace crossed her muzzle. “But... why?!?”

An ominous crack of thunder shook the entire wagon.

Trixie shrieked, dropping the levitating tea. It steaming contents splattered all across the wagon. Spike remained unmoving.

“What was that...?!” Trixie squeaked, shaking all over. Even before she was done speaking, she heard a rising tumult issuing from outside. Whatever it was, it caused the entire wagon to shake from wheel to wheel to ceiling to wheel. Whimpering with intermittent squeaks, she stumbled for the door. Her little blue body reeled from side to side, smacking into collapsing boxes and nearly tripping over a spilled array of spreading junk on the floor.

Then, at long last, she burst through the door to the outside world.

"Mrmmmfff!" Trixie teetered, flailed, and fell flat on her chest. "Ooomfff!"

The earth tickling her flesh was... undulating.

"... ... ...???" Slowly, Trixie's twitching eyes peered up... up... up...

...and the sky was surging down... down... down. The sky had been blotched black in random places, and shadows larger and darker than any feasible thundercloud descended like tentacles into the quivering countryside of Equestria. A savage wind picked up, twirling to and fro in frightful gusts as if prophesying the advent of an epic cyclone. The air thinned. Sunlight dimmed by the second. And the treetops...

They collectively swayed under the chorus of panicked screams.

More thunder: this time resonating like a predatory growl through the skin of the continent. Trixie's wagon shook again, and she sat up with palpitating breaths. Her eyes reflected more tendrils of deep shadow reaching down from the heavens, raking the mountains and valleys beyond with otherworldly purpose. The manifestations possessed a color: deep purple like far-off nebulae through a telescope. The more Trixie sat there and observed the unthinkable, her nose tickled with a wet, rusty smell. Like decay in fast forward.

The thunder continued, doubling and tripling. The screams grew just as thick, reaching a fever pitch in occasional salvos until...

KAPOW!!!

Something exploded somewhere nearby. Trixie jerked her head towards the heart of Ponyville. It was just in time for her beady eyes to spot chunks of wood and brickwork flying heavenward... and settling back down with precipitous chaos. Two or three pieces of the debris were flailing. With limbs.

Trixie paled all over, her coat paling. Ears drooped as she saw the sky blackening thicker and thicker. Pockets of sheer nothingness were being ripped into existence overhead like an invisible knife to the firmaments of the planet.

At that moment, as her heartbeat reached a rapid gunshot tempo, she didn't think about dying. She didn't think about all the tours she may never get to do. She didn't think about who or what was responsible for this sudden chaos: Discord or Tirek or Sombra or radioactive squirrels. She didn't think about Princess Twilight Sparkle or any of the other alicorns and what they might be doing to counteract this. She didn't even think about peanut butter crackers.

Trixie stammered: "Starlight..."

In the next breath, she leapt to her hooves. She galloped straight across the shuddering earth. Halfway before departing from the shadow of the Castle of Friendship...

"Butts!" she pony-cursed, skidding to a stop. Prancing about, she dashed back to the wagon. "B-butts!" She made a tiny hop inside. Seconds later, Trixie made a tiny hop back outside... this time carrying an unconscious Spike draped over her backside. "Butts butts butts butts!"

There was a loud crumbling noise.

Panting, Trixie looked back. Her eyes twitched.

A dark purple tendril of shadow had flopped thickly over the Castle. The majestic crystalline structure bowed under the pressure, and within seconds the length of the bleak conjuration had lashed over and smashed Trixie's home-on-wheels to splintery bits.

"Buttttttttts!" With Spike in tow, Trixie galloped straight into the end of all things.

Prologue: Tsundere Lulamoon

Prologue: Tsundere Lulamoon

April 20th, 1005 ME
17:45:08

Hours later...

And after a copious amount of student files were checked and signed off on... …

...Trixie made her way back towards the front entrance of the Castle of Friendship. The sky was glossing slowly from a vibrant blue to a lazy amber, in preparation of the inevitable sunset on Ponyville.

The showmare trotted in a slump. Her stomach gurgled. She had enjoyed a meager snack or two back at the school while working, but it wasn't enough to satiate her poor fuzzy tummy. There were hidden peanut butter and cracker sandwiches in the wagon—Trixie remembered. She was stepping up to the door and fussing with its complicated lock when a pink shape bounced its way through the Castle Entrance behind her.

“Hey-ya Trixie!” Pinkie Pie musically chirped. “Enjoying this fine fancy afternoon of intricately melancholic introspection? Anywhooo~” She opened the door and zipped inside. “Gotta split!”

“Uwahh...?!” Trixie did a double-take. “Pinkie Pie—” She spun and galloped into the Castle before the massive doors could close all the way. “—wait!”

Trixie huffed and puffed. As she rushed down the hallway, she could see the fuzzy pink ball arcing far ahead, as if in search of invisible lyrics to bounce on.

“Wait wait wait wait wait wait—!”

Trixie turned around one last corner—then saw Pinkie standing dead-still, talking to another pony. The showmare winced, flailed, and spun three times while sliding across the glossy crystalline floor of the palace. At long last, she came to a stop against a varnished wooden table—rattling it. Her body jolted and her mane flounced. She blew a tuft of white hair out from her face and shrunk slightly with a blush.

“Uhm... h-hi there...”

“Howdy yerself, Trixie,” Applejack said, then turned to look back at Pinkie. “Anywho, ya got the fruitcake?”

“Have I ever!” Pinkie Pie jumped in place. Thud! Thud! The hallway shook with noticeable vibrations. “I feel ten times heavier! Heeehee!” Thud! “Remind me someday to last two-thirds of a way through a climactic fight with alien invaders before shrugging off fruit cake for dramatic effect!”

“Don'tcha think that's a mite bit pointless?”

“Uhm... Applejack... it's called 'weighted cooking' for a reason!”

“What...” Trixie was still catching her breath. “...are...” She heaved slightly, fighting the urge to show sweat. “...you...” At last, she composed herself with a toss of her fabulous mane. “...up to?” She leaned casually against the table. “And why does it involve fruitcake?”

“Awwwww, nothin' you'd be interested in, sugarcube.” Applejack winked. “Just the usual snacks-and-gab stuff that you find boring.” She gestured with a smile. “Word is Twilight's inbound from the Zebrahara this afternoon, and she's stoppin' by her old trottin' grounds to catch up with the rest of us gals.”

“Weekly reunion par-tahhhhhhh!!!” Pinkie Pie jumped into the air, hovered there for a few impossible seconds, then came back down. Thud! “It's like a beach party! Only more adult and mellow! I mean, I suppose we could have it at a beach, but Twilight's probably had enough sand for the week.”

“Quite true, darling!” Rarity entered the room from an adjacent hallway. She carried a fine silk saddlebag over her dainty figure. “And thinking about zebras and their beautifully minimalist stripes, I've crafted some exquisite capes with monochromatic designs just for this occasion!”

“How in the hay did you find the time to sew Twilight and the rest of us some garments?” Applejack's freckled face scrunched. “Figured you was wrapped up with business in Canterlot!”

“It's a long train ride back to Ponyville.” Rarity fluffed her mane with a proud smile. “A lady needs to keep herself busy.”

“Heh... you never run out of surprises, do ya, Rares?”

Rarity reached out to poke Applejack's nose. “And you never run out of ways to be surprised, darling~.” It was just then that she noticed a fuzzy blue figure in her peripheral. “Oh! Trixie! Hello there.” The fashionista curtsied in place. “What a pleasant surprise. Just passing through?”

“Oh... well... uhm...” Trixie leaned from one pair of legs to the other. “Trixie was just—”

“Starlight's been a doin' a ton of experiments lately,” Applejack said. “She's been awfully hush-hush about 'em too.” Her green eyes narrowed. “Ya reckon she's tryin' to surprise Twilight with whatever snazzy thang she's researchin'?”

“Trixie... d-doesn't know what Starlight's been up to,” Trixie muttered. “Not exactly.”

“That's funny.” Pinkie Pie blinked. “I figured you two were attached to the hip.”

Before Trixie could reply—

“You know who's really attached to the hip?” cracked Rainbow Dash's voice. She flew briskly into the hallway, pointing at a yellow shape floating beside her. “Fluttershy here! To Tree Hugger's!”

“Rainbow Dash...” Fluttershy frowned in mid-glide. “I don't know what you're trying to insinuate, but it doesn't sound very nice.”

Rainbow waved a hoof in front of her nose. “What I'm saying is that I haven't shaken loose the whiff of incense since I met with you outside of Everfree!” She wheezed. “Dang, girl! Take a bath, will ya!”

“Tree Hugger doesn't smell bad.” Fluttershy fidgeted in the air, blushing slightly. “She's just... earthy.”

“Fluttershy, precious, diamond dogs are 'earthy,'” Rarity said. “I've met Tree Hugger. She's a very nice mare. But I do think she favors all of that incense for a reason.”

“You ask me...” Applejack trotted closer to Fluttershy and sniffed. “...no baths are needed! I think Fluttershy smells just fine!”

“You mean like she's coated in a pungent fragrance that's trying to mask over dried-up sweat, grit, and dirt?” Rainbow said, blanching.

“Exactly!” Applejack beamed. “Just like a visit to Golden Delicious' house after a long day of workin' the orchards!”

The mares all laughed.

“Well, if that's the case...” Fluttershy winked. “I think I'll just stay the way I am for this evening.”

“Oh darling, don't stress it.” Rarity reached up and hugged the pegasus. “If you're fine enough for me, you're fine enough for any pony. Isn't that right, ladies?”

“Mmmhmm!”

“Woohoo!”

“Boy howdy!”

“So...” Rainbow Dash yawned, smiling thinly. “We decided on a place or what? I've been training cadets all weekend. My wings are about ready to fall off. I need a place to perch.”

“Heeheehee...” Pinkie rocked from side to side with the weight of the fruit cake. “'Perch' is such a silly word.”

“You're such a silly word,” Rainbow retorted.

“I suggest a place that isn't too terribly taxing,” Rarity said, fluffing her mane once again. “I imagine Twilight is also wanting some peace and quiet.”

“Yes!” Fluttershy's ears folded back. “Even when she relaxes, life in Canterlot is very noisy and stressful for a princess!”

“Don't you mean stressful and noisy for you?” Rainbow said.

“Mmmmm...” Fluttershy's cheeks reddened as she toed the floor. “So what if I feel like a princess at times?”

“Hah hah hah!”

“Heheheh...!”

“Heehee!” Pinkie rubbed her nose and gasped. “I know! What about the hilltop!”

“What hilltop?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Y'know...!” Pinkie hopped in place. “The hilltop! Where we all sat and watched that meteor shower once! Years ago!”

“Oh, splendid!” Rarity beamed, her eyes sparkling. “We can all watch the stars come out at night!”

“Well, shucks...” Applejack tilted her hat back. “Sounds like a relaxin' good time!”

“H-hey! Meteor showers!” Trixie smiled awkwardly. “That sounds... … ...very astronomical!”

Rainbow Dash squinted at her. “... … ...yeah?”

“Trixie happens to love stars! That's why she has them on her cape!” Trixie waved a hoof to her side, then winced. “Uhm... Trixie isn't wearing her stage clothes right now, but just pretend she is!”

“Didn't you fall asleep at the field trip we took with the Friendship students to the Baltimare planetarium?” Pinkie Pie asked, face cocked aside. “I kinda remember you drooling onto the hoofrest. And believe me—Pinkamena Diane Pie is an expert on drool.”

“Yes, well...” Trixie shrugged. “...maybe Trixie meant stars in the... uh... abstract sense?”

“Sounds like stage hocus pocus stuff to me,” Rainbow said. She winked down at the showmare. “Don't worry, Trixie. You don't have to pretend.”

“Trixie doesn't?” She blinked back. “Wait.” A twitch of her tail. “Pretend what?”

“That you're interested in joining us!” Rainbow stuck her tongue out. “It isn't the first time that you play it cool while trying to avoid something that bores the heck out of you. I know the feeling. Trust me, I do.”

“Oh...” Trixie cleared her throat. “...I guess you and I are a lot alike...”

“Yup!” Rainbow folded her forelimbs while tilting her nose up. “Only I'm awesomer! No offense. It's a tough competition.”

“Rainbow, please...” Rarity trotted closer to Trixie. “Trixie, darling, there was a time when—horrible as it sounds—many of us would have shuddered at being in the same room as each other. But times have changed and you've shown your true colors and—you know what...?”

Trixie blinked. “... … ...what?”

Rarity rested a gentle hoof on her shoulder. “We respect and admire the qualities of you that makes you you. It's okay to not want to bother with 'stiff' and 'boring' socializing like the rest of us. If you wish to have your distance and time to yourself, that's perfectly fine. We all know that you're a good, loyal, and dependable pony. You just... prefer your own space, and that's fine! You needn't put on a play for our benefit!”

“Uhhh... uhm...” Trixie gazed at all of the faces, faces, faces smiling at her. In situations like this, stagelights typically made it easier to avoid focus. The showmare fought the urge to sweat and cracked a smug smile. “...b-but of course!” She stood tall and confident. “The Grrreat and Powerrrful Trrrixie is above such customary trivialities!” She pretended to examine her hoof. “Trixie just came back from a lengthy tour and was... wanting to catch up on the goings-ons, is all...”

“But of course...” Fluttershy smiled sweetly. “...if you actually wanted to join us...”

Trixie gasped. She looked at the mare with starry eyes, squeaking: “Yeah...???”

FLASSSSH!

A lavender butt materialized right in Trixie's face.

“Aaackies!” Trixie fell back.

“Oh!” Twilight Sparkle gasped, turning around and lifting Trixie back to her hooves with a telekinetic tug. “I'm so sorry, Trixie! I didn't think there'd be so many ponies gathered in the castle at this hour!”

“Well, duhhhhhhh!” Rainbow Dash frowned briefly. “This was your idea wasn't it?”

“And how!” Twilight's eyes swiveled around above a goofy smile. “I've been listening to zebras talking in rhyme for days. I'm ready for some good ol' free form friendship!”

“Well, golly!” Applejack slapped her knee. “Time's a-wastin'! Let's get to it!”

“What the bumpkin said!” Rainbow echoed.

“Woohoo!”

A nearby door opened and a reptilian face peered in. “What about bumpkins?” Spike blinked. “Oh hey, Twilight. Hey girls. What's up?”

“We're havin' a fruit cake throwdown!” Pinkie Pie chortled, raising her heavy saddlebag in triumph.

“Wanna come with?” Rainbow gestured.

“Well, I hate fruit cake, but I like ponies!” Spike flapped his leathery wings and joined the crowd. “Count me in!”

“Ohhhhh, it's so nice seeing you, my little Spikey-wikey!”

“The more the merrier!”

“Yaa-aa-aay!”

Trixie blanched, watching all of the colorful bodies swirl past her, like a warm pool circling down a drain far and farther away. “Hey... uhm... can Trixie just say—”

“Oh! Trixie!” Twilight Sparkle stopped in her tracks. “Where are my manners?” She swiveled as her smile remained locked on the showmare. “Welcome back! Finish with your tour?”

“Well, yes, I—”

“Have you seen Starlight Glimmer?”

“... … ...no?”

“Hmmm. I can't seem to get in touch with her. She's been really wrapped up in her science experiments lately.” Twilight tongued the inside of her mouth. “Mmmmm... well, if you happen to run into her, let her know that the girls and I are having a talk over dessert, will you?”

“Trixie... can do that...”

“Unless—of course—you two wish to hang out as usual.” Twilight winked. “I know how much you hate it when Starlight drags you to social events that you don't like.”

“Well, you're the Princess of Friendship!” Trixie winked and pointed at Twilight. “Nothing gets past you!”

“Time certainly does!” Twilight turned tail and trotted briskly after Spike and the rest of the girls. “But not this evening! Hop on, Spike!”

“Ayyyyyy!” Spike leapt onto her backside and clung on tight. “Like old times!”

Twilight giggled. “I know, right! Oh, how I've missed this...”

“Where to, gals?” Spike asked.

“Pinkie's made a mighty fine suggestion!” Applejack said. “The hilltop outside of town! Y'know... for starmappin'?”

“Oooh! The hilltop! I love the hilltop!”

“That's what I said!”

“Hahahaha!”

“Hee hee...”

The group moved on...

...and Trixie didn't.

She sat in the middle the hallway, almost as empty as when she first arrived there. Her eyes swept left and right, but before they could settle on something, she reset her mellow expression with a passionate frown.

“Hrmmmff... so what's the big deal...?”

She turned tail and trotted back towards the entrance of the castle.

“... … ...the only one Trixie could connect to anyway would be the fruitcake.”

And yet, when she returned to her wagon, she was serenaded once again by her own sighs.

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December 24th, 1000 ME
23:43:10

Amber eyes set in an orange face squinted curiously across the stone table of the prison cell. “Why are you staring so strangely at Trixie?”

Princess Celestia navigated a contemplative breath. “Forgive me, my little pony...” Vapors coalesced between them. “I am simply attempting to... process the details in between your words.”

“What do you mean 'in between' Trixie's words?”

“Well, to be honest, you do tend to meander somewhat in your recollections,” the Ruler of Equestria said. “And I don't see what the tour in Las Pegasus and the subsequent return to Ponyville have to do with the ill-fate of our universe...”

She's got a point there, Trix.

You need to stay on topic.

Frowning, Trixie whispered aside to thin air: “I'm sorry, were you doing the narrating?”

Princess Celestia carried on: “But from what I can glean from your story so far...” Her rosy eyes narrowed on Trixie. “...in the future, Luna and I have somehow retired. Twilight Sparkle has picked up the mantle as maretriarch of Equestria. There is both a castle and a university dedicated to 'Friendship' in Ponyville... … ...” She grimaced. “...and ponies still eat fruitcake?”

“Oh, Trixie neglected to mention loads of stuff! That's how dedicated to being on point she is!” Trixie leaned back and gestured with her hoof-cuffed forelimbs. “Besides, why would I bother mentioning the hoof-over of power between old and new Dragon Lords? Or the invasion and subsequent defeat of the Storm King? The Pony of Shadows and the return of the Pillars of Harmony from Limbo. The discovery of some goofy mirror that teleports ponies to an alternate world run by walking clothed monkeys. Something to do with a crystal tree and its talking Twilight hologram. OH! And they no longer serve chocolate peanut butter treats at Wonderbolts shows!”

“... … ...” Celestia slowly nodded. “I see...”

“Yes. That last detail is most disheartening.” Trixie sighed, staring out the window at the snowfall. “When or if Trixie fixes the timeline, she hopes that she at least has wafers to come back to.”

“Are you certain you're not just making all of this up?”

“No, Trixie is not making all of this up!” Trixie's copper nostrils flared. “What must Trixie say to convince you that she's actually from the future?!”

Maybe if you reveal something that only ponies from the future would know about Celestia?

Like...

...how she's never before acted in a stage play?

“Trixie happens to know that you've never ever acted in a stage play—!” Trixie grimaced. “Wait, what?” She looked to her side. “An alicorn who's been alive for over one thousand years never once performed before a live audience?”

Alright, fine.

Uhm...

Oh!

Tell her about how... h-how she held Twilight Sparkle back in Canterlot for over two years because she didn't want to let go of her prized pupil.

“Ewwwww...” Trixie made a face. “That's so damnably sappy.”

“I beg your pardon?” Celestia raised an eyebrow.

Trixie delicately cleared her throat. “Your Majesty...” She leaned forward in her seat. “...you held back Twilight Sparkle from going to Ponyville for over two years...”

She was afraid that Twilight might run into trouble, danger, or worse.

“You were afraid of what might happen to her.”

She even once thought of throwing a party for her in the castle to attract friends.”

“You were tempted to throw her a party in Canterlot instead.”

But in the end, you knew that you had to trust in the Elements of Harmony. So finally, you sent Twilight to Ponyville... at the very last second: the Summer Sunset Celebration.

“Well that's not very flattering,” Trixie hissed aside.

Trixxxxxxx...

Trixie rolled her amber eyes.

“You finally sent her to Ponyville during the Summer Sunset Celebration, cuz you trusted in the Elements of Harmony and stuff.”

She folded her manacled forelimbs.

“If you ask me, it was dealing your ace in the hole waaaaaaaaaay too late.” Trixie arched an eyebrow. “Even a princess should know a thing or two about being fashionably early.”

Princess Celestia gazed down at the prisoner. She took a long and thoughtful breath.

“Very fascinating insight, 'Trixie.'” Her eyes narrowed. “But you could have gleaned such a revelation from just about anypony among the Royal Guard.”

“Geugh!” Trixie tossed her forelimbs. “Just what do you want from Trixie?!”

“To make sense of your presence here.” Celestia breathed firmly. “What exactly led to you somehow—impossibly—coming back through time to this year? This very moment?”

“Trixie was getting to that!” the prisoner barked. “And to be fair, I didn't come back to this very moment. Trixie came back to six months ago. Almost exactly.”

“That would have been...” Celestia's muzzle hung open as her royal eyes scraped the walls. “... … ...the Summer Sun Celebration.”

Trixie held her bound hooves over her dainty chest. “Maybe if you just allowed Trixie to continue, she would get to explaining it all!”

Maybe you should cut to the chase...?

“Maybe you should hold your horseshoes,” Trixie retorted. She cleared her throat and looked up at the monarch directly. “You recall Trixie mentioning that she had a best friend? Starlight Glimmer?”

“I do.” Celestia nodded. “She was not there to greet you when you returned to Ponyville in the future.”

“Right.” Trixie nodded. “Starlight is the Great and Powerful Trixie's Number One assistant.” A rosy smile crossed her copper features. “She's smart. Powerful. Conniving where it matters...”

Oh you flatterer, you...

“She's also very very bad at communicating most of the time.”

H-hey...!

Trixie went on: “So—naturally—when Trixie didn't get a chance to see her upon returning, she took it upon herself to go check up on Starlight's laboratory herself. After all, Starlight had shown it to Trixie months prior to the tour in Las Pegasus...”