Chapters Chapter 1: Great and Powerful
Villainy
Chapter 1: Great and Powerful
Trixie wasn’t bad at magic, not in the least. Her command of the magical school of illusion wasn’t prodigious, but it was certainly far above average. She had been dazzling audiences for seven glorious years before Twilight Sparkle had ruined her life with a humble smile and a magical potential second only to the two goddesses that ruled Equestria.
It simply wasn’t fair. Twilight Sparkle had been born with more raw power than most unicorns ever possessed as adults, and she had been tutored by Princess Celestia since foalhood. Trixie hadn’t had that luxury. She’d poured her heart, soul, and sweat into building her career as the most talented illusionist in Equestria, and she’d done it by herself. Traveling magicians weren’t in high demand in a world where every being had some sort of magic of their own, and it had been a hard and taxing journey to even start turning a profit. Trixie remembered with pride the day that she had been able to buy the cart that had served as her home as she traveled far and wide in search of audiences to entertain. She had given more than Twilight Sparkle ever would just to get by, and she’d lost it all in a moment of hubris and misfortune.
Maybe she had been a bit boastful, but there had been no way for her to predict what would happen when two Ponyville colts would take her stories to heart, and one attack by an ursa minor later, she’d fled town, her pride and reputation shattered into pieces by a silly little bookworm born into greatness. Life hadn’t been kind to Trixie since then. Word of her humiliation in Ponyville spread like wildfire, until even school newspapers had begun to mock her. Soon, the bits stopped coming in, and Trixie, who had already lost most of her possessions when that behemoth had stomped her cart into as many pieces as her career, struggled once more to get from day to day. Unlike the last time, though, Trixie’s pride and ambition had nearly forsaken her entirely, trapping her more securely in a life of misery and self-pity as she sank into destitution.
Trixie finished her latest performance with a flourish and a bow. It had been a relatively successful show, if not as glamorous as she was used to. Still, it was easier to make a living entertaining birthday parties for fillies and colts in backwater town that hadn’t heard of her, or her fall from grace, and the enthusiasm of the children was a bittersweet balm to her wounded pride.
The guest of honor, a little unicorn filly, probably not even old enough to use telekinesis, had absolutely loved the show, and had watched with star-struck eyes as The Great and Powerful Trixie read minds, made objects vanish, and performed the sort of flashy illusions that universally entranced children of that age. Barely holding in her excitement as she whispered something to her parents, the filly then rushed over to Trixie, her eyes almost as wide as her grin as she spoke. “Miss Trixie, thank you very much for coming to my party! When I’m big, I wanna be just like you.”
The words were a knife in Trixie’s gut, and the innocence that lined them was poison. Trixie let out a weak, halting chuckle in response to the child, feeling like her head was swimming. “O-of course, Trixie cannot blame you for wishing to emulate somepony like her. Trixie is certainly unlike most other unicorns of her talent,” said Trixie, though her heart wasn’t in it. “Allow Trixie to bestow you with the most sage advice she has. Never let your pride blind your reason, and never let anything or anypony, least of all yourself, stop you from achieving your dreams.”
The filly rushed back to join her friends, and her mother came forward with a modest bag of bits and a concerned visage. “Thanks for coming out, Miss Trixie. The foals really loved your show.” She paused for a moment. “Are you feeling all right? You look a little shaky on your hooves. I can get you a glass of water if you need it.”
Trixie backed away, gently taking her payment in a telekinetic grip. “Oh, no, do not worry about Trixie,” she said with a blatantly false grin of reassurance. “I-Trixie knows how to get by. She always does. Have a good day with your foal, madame.” Not waiting for a response, Trixie grabbed the saddlebags containing her few belongings, and fled, leaving a confused, somewhat saddened customer behind.
Running came naturally to Trixie, by now. She’d run away from Ponyville, and hadn’t stopped ever since. She ran from village to village, from gig to gig, hemorrhaging bits and willpower along the way. It seemed perfectly reasonable to run now, away from the bitter taste of the kindness shown to her by a stranger, when all it would ever do was salt Trixie’s wounds.
She didn’t stop running until she was far out of the podunk that she had been performing in for the past week, coming to rest at a healthy-looking stream that ran perpendicular to the road. Slowing down to catch her breath, she followed the clear waters until the road was out of view.
As she lowered herself into the soothingly cool waters, Trixie took a moment to reflect one of the few blessings she could still count. Nature would never judge her failure, and where ponies would offer mockery or pity, it would instead give her water to drink and bathe in, and grass to eat when bits were simply too sparse to purchase anything better. Being out on the plains was like being inside a painting, full of life and purity. She needed no illusions here, nothing to conceal how much of a lie the Great and Powerful Trixie had been all along. Here, Trixie could allow herself to cry.
“For one espousing the virtues of determination and humility, you don’t adhere to either very closely.” Trixie jumped, startled at the calm, confident voice behind her, and turned to see a unicorn stallion of the most neutral shade of gray that she had ever encountered, his mane only slightly darken. Upon his flank was a depiction of the two masks of comedy and tragedy common to theater symbology. “You gave some good advice, Great and Powerful Trixie. Why don’t you take it?”
“If you are here to mock Trixie, then I suggest you leave,” growled Trixie, wiping her eyes. “You’ll get nothing from her that she has not already lost.”
“You misinterpret me, my dear,” said the stallion, an infuriatingly placid smile on his face. “I am simply the sound of opportunity knocking.” As Trixie began to protest, he held up a hoof to silence her. “I understand that you need no charity, and that no matter what you say, your pride disallows you from being anything but a self-made mare, and that is why I come bearing an offer of equal exchange. My name is Grayscale, and I wish to offer you a job.”
“Trixie is no actor,” she replied flatly. “Have you need of an illusionist for special effects? Trixie’s home is on the stage, not in the background.”
“I assure you, Trixie, you will have more than ample time in the limelight, and the pay will reflect the extensive travels and talents of one such as yourself.” Grayscale produced a business card, bearing no markings other than Grayscale’s cutie mark. “Give it some thought. If you wish to hear more, simply input any magic into the card, and we will send for you.”
Trixie looked down to examine the card, turning it over to search for any text. “Trixie will consider your offer,” she said with a sigh. When she received no response, she looked back up at Grayscale. He was nowhere to be found.
The temptation was too much for Trixie to resist. She had arrived in a medium-sized village shortly after returning to the road, and without any ado, had immediately started busking. It hadn’t been going well. A few of the locals had recognized Trixie when she had begun to draw a crowd, and the ensuing fallout had left her almost entirely bereft of an audience. At one point, one of the local guardsponies had tried to get her to shut down for busking without a license, until Trixie had produced a copy of a recent law passed by Princess Luna enabling wandering performers to obtain universal permits from Canterlot so that they didn’t have to maintain performer’s licenses in every city they visited. Even so, that disruption had cost her the last of her watchers, and after a couple more hours of trying to attract attention, she had given up and sat down, miserably staring at the pathetic pile of bits in her tip jar.
As she began packing up once more, she took out Grayscale’s card, and on a whime, sent a small jolt of lightning into it. The card glowed briefly, and then became inert once more. With an impatient nicker, she sat down to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
After another three hours of waiting, she cried out in frustration, ripping the card in half before preparing to leave town again. Before she could, however, a violent crashing noise startled her into attention. Whipping around, Trixie saw a beaten up sky-carriage drawn by two pegasi. The first was a mare with a blonde coat, white mane, and a cutie mark depicting a meteor. The second was a stallion of the same coloration, whose cutie mark was a lightning bolt.
“Trixie, Great and Powerful?” queried the mare. Upon seeing her subject of inquiry nod numbly, she gestured her head toward the carriage. “Grayscale’s expecting ya. I’m Meteora, and this is my bro, Hurricane. We’re gonna be your ride to Manehattan for your job interview.”
Trixie walked timidly toward the carriage, which looked as if it might fall apart at any moment due to the amount of abuse it had seen. Meteora continued to happily babble, oblivious to Trixie’s discomfort. “It’s so nice to get some new blood. You have no idea how stale things have been getting. He won’t admit it, but Grayscale knows we really need some extra life. Ever been to Manehattan? It’s pretty boss. All the modern conveniences, and access to the coast to boot, so we get all the latest imports from the Griffon Empire. Who’d have thought those birds were so great with machinery? I mean Canterlot will always be the center for magitech, but-”
Meteora’s words were suddenly cut off when her brother summarily punched her in the shoulder, staring at her with a flat, annoyed expression on his face. “Sis? Do us all a favor and shut up. I can barely stand being around your hyperactivity sometimes. You really want to put Trixie here through that before she’s even hired?”
Meteora looked hurt, but settled down significantly as the two prepared to take off, only pausing to mutter, “I’m not hyperactive. I’m just aggressively happy.”
Trixie regretted stepping onto the carriage the moment it took off.
Trixie stepped off of the carriage shaking violently with silent terror, having just been witness to a violation of every air traffic law she had ever known of. She was pretty sure that at least one merchant had been forced to crash into a nearby cloud on the way, and at least one village would have experienced an unscheduled rain of frogs. So grateful was she to be on the ground again that she was able to pointedly ignore her growing discomfort with the entire situation.
Their destination was in the slums of Manehattan, a dark mark on the otherwise refined urbanite hive. Around the trio, boarded buildings with rotting doors surrounded them like tombstones in a graveyard, and ragged-looking ponies gazed at them from darkened alleyways. Glancing at Meteora, Trixie noted a melancholy expression on Meteora’s face, a countanence that thus far had only shown an unquenchable, slightly unhinged optimism. “Sad, ain’t it?” she remarked to Trixie. “This place wasn’t always this bad. Our competitors don’t always play so nice though, and a lot of ponies moved out when the pressure got too much to handle.”
Trixie tilted her head in confusion. “Trixie was not aware that the acting industry could get so hostile, much less so influential on an area.”
Meteora looked equally confused as they walked up to an aged-looking theater. “You think-? Uh, I think you need to go talk to Grayscale now. Upstairs, third door on the left.”
As Trixie entered, she noted the friendly, if subdued atmosphere of the theater, which in its heyday had obviously been quite an experience. Plush red carpeting covered the floor, and the faded wallpaper still wore the signs of its former liveliness. Dusty mahogany doors lined the halls, and an ornate set of double doors marked what Trixie guessed was the entrance to the auditorium. Ponies walked to and fro, occasionally glancing at Trixie with expressions of mixed curiosity and happiness as she approached a curved set of stairs, and began her ascent.
When she reached the appointed door, which was slightly ajar, Trixie gently knocked. “Come in!” called Grayscale from inside. Trixie slowly prodded the door open. Grayscale was inside, looking a little more frayed around the edges than before, but still wearing a supremely calm and content demeanor. Papers were scattered on the desk that dominated the humble office, depicting endless numbers and formulae, with the occasional map mixed in. As Trixie entered, Grayscale shuffled a weathered-looking book into one of the drawers. “I’m glad you decided to come, Miss Trixie. I understand that Meteora and Hurricane might have come off a little strongly. You learn to love them, though, and respect their reliability and loyalty. If you would, follow me.” Grayscale motioned towards the hall, and the pair began to walk.
As they descended the stairs that Trixie had used previously, she finally gathered the courage to speak. “Trixie means no offense, Mr. Grayscale, but she has noted a definite impression of concealment here, and is inclined to believe that acting does not quite cover the scope of your work. Meteora seemed most confused when I mentioned acting at all.”
Grayscale nodded. “You guess correctly, my dear. Before the conversation proceeds any further, I must ask you a question: Are the princesses always right about everything?”
Trixie’s nervousness doubled. “T-Trixie supposes that they are still quite capable of making mistakes here and there, but they have not led our people astray during their rule.” The pair began to descend another set of stairs.
“I agree wholeheartedly,” affirmed Grayscale. “That being said, I believe that in those rare instances where our princesses might misstep, we are perfectly within our rights to civilly disobey. Princess Celestia has said countless times that she does not wish to be treated as a goddess, and I think it proper to honor this wish.”
“Trixie is not sure if she likes where this-” Trixie paused as they reached the bottom of the stairs, where a massive chamber was revealed. At least twenty ponies worked at various machines, barrels, and tubes. In the tubes was an unmistakable, and definitely illegal substance. “You’re moonshiners! Trixie will have no part of this den of criminals!” Trixie was beginning to panic, and turned back to the stairs.
“I understand what you’re thinking, Trixie, but I beg you to reconsider,” called Grayscale. “Look at that poor colt by the first distillery. You see his mark? What would society do with somepony whose very talent, the basis of his identity, was illegal? How could he survive in a world that rejected him based on something outside of his control?” Grayscale paused. “How would you feel if you were forced to abandon your own passion?” Trixie stopped walking immediately. Grayscale pressed his advantage in response. “Alcohol was banned years ago, but the circumstances of the ban highly imply a large amount of personal bias by Princess Celestia. I don’t question her goodness, but I believe that she has unknowingly separated something good from society, and has perhaps doomed a few ponies whose talents are related to it.”
Trixie felt very small as she realized she was losing this battle. “Trixie’s talents are unrelated to brewing, though. Her talents are to astonish and amaze, not to brew and distribute! What use would she even be here?”
Grayscale smiled, knowing he’d won. “We have much use for a talented and worldly mare such as yourself. Specifically, we wish to use your travelling act as a front for acquiring new contacts and distribution. In return, you’ll get to return to performing under a salary from us plus any tips you get.”
Trixie’s heart nearly stopped at the prospect of being able to return to her old life. After a few silent moments of pondering, Trixie looked Grayscale in the eye and whispered. “I accept.”
Chapter 2: Welcome to the Family
Villainy
Trixie gasped. It was magnificent. It was beautiful. It was everything she’d wanted and more. It was hers. Trixie took a few more moments to revel in the presence of her new wagon. Her first wagon had been a labor of love, full of tacked-on features, ad-hoc firework dispensers, and a hoof-painted finish. This one was not a labor of love, but a labor of a professional carpenter who actually knew what he was doing, and it was the result of her initial payment that Grayscale had offered her to get started. It was significantly larger than her first wagon, and even had a section for her and her newly appointed drivers, Meteora and Hurricane, not to mention hidden compartments for certain other goods.
“Normally, we’d be on other, more local projects,” Meteora explained, “but this is kinda important. Grayscale won’t admit how much we need this new business. My bro will be helping you learn the ropes when it comes to getting new clients, and we’ll also be providing protection if things go sour.”
“Sour?” Trixie’s attention was suddenly rapt. “Trixie is not so certain she is comfortable with sour.”
“Trixie just joined an illegal bootlegging operation,” Hurricane said flatly. “Did Trixie expect a no-risk job?”
“A reasonable point, Trixie admits... The two of you will be able to protect Trixie in such circumstances? No offense intended, but Meteora doesn’t seem built for hoof-to-hoof combat.” Trixie idly checked a spring on the wagon that held part of the stage mechanism in place.
“That’s a perfectly valid point. I think so too.” Meteora smiled wildly. “That’s why I don’t bother with hoof-to-hoof combat. Check the compartment to your left, the one that you have to tilt the mirror for.”
Trixie, for the second time that day, was awestruck. Bows, crossbows, a few blades and truncheons, and even rare and valuable black powder weapons. Meteora nuzzled a battered repeating crossbow affectionately. "Celestia has all four hooves in the weapons industry, so guns are pretty expensive. Not worth the trouble if you ask me, I'll take the accuracy and silence of a crossbow any day.” Trixie was somewhat taken aback by the enthusiasm Meteora was showing for the weaponry.
As Meteora continued to ramble about this weapon or that one, Trixie, as she had been compelled to do much lately, was pondering the direction her life had taken. It was worth it, though, to be able to perform again. It’s not like she’d be doing this forever. Once she had gotten back on her hooves, she could leave and resume her life as a professional entertainer, without the mistakes that had cost her so much the first time around. Things would be better this time.
“We’ve received word that a speakeasy in Fillydelphia needs a new supplier.” Grayscale paced back and forth in front of his employees, all business. “I want to jump on this before those kids in Canterlot do. Our brews are better, and we can distribute it at lower costs. The Canterlot foals are there already, but their costs are driving customers away. I've already been in contact with a middlemare who will store for us. Hotshot, you and your ponies need to clear out the muscle so the pitch team can get in there and seal the deal. You have your assignments. Get to it.”
Trixie couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. This was going to be her first assignment since she had been hired. As the meeting dispersed, several of the other employees walked up to her to wish her luck, including the colt from the brewery, and Hotshot, the self-proclaimed ‘Combat Affairs Specialist’, who, Trixie couldn’t help but note, made her extremely uncomfortable with the calm and professional demeanor he kept about his grim job, though Trixie was admittedly curious as to how she had never heard of all of the fighting that seemed to occur between establishments. Hotshot was only too pleased to oblige. “Well, most ponies who work in the black market or other related jobs don’t stay in their hometown, and since laws regarding relocation and identification have been heavily relaxed since Luna resumed duties, it’s been easier to move unnoticed. The changes were intended to help nomadic ponies, like gypsies and other wanderers, but it helped us just as much. I heard Celestia was pretty unhappy that it went through for just that reason, but she didn’t want to undermine Luna. That being said, when a pony disappears, it takes a very long time for the appropriate authorities to notice, and by then, the evidence is fertilizer.”
“Trixie didn’t realize how much the changes would help her, when they were first decreed.” Trixie’s voice was flat, with perhaps a hint of sarcasm. “Trixie supposes that is a sensible explanation, though. Trixie admits that she is completely new to anything like this line of work. Trixie hasn’t been exposed to alcohol at all since her younger, more wild days, and did not know that there was such an interesting scene behind the product. To be honest, Trixie is not entirely sure why it was banned.”
“Well, the official story is that a drunken ambassador almost caused a war with the griffons, and Celestia decided that such a vice could only hurt society. Of course, there's been rumors ever since that Celestia had taken a bit too much of a liking to the bottle, and was using the event as a way cut herself off. Now that Luna's back, a lot of ponies in our profession say that it was guilt about banishing Luna in the first place. Kinda ironic, 'cause I also heard that Luna was pretty upset about it when she got back. After one thousand years on the moon, she apparently was wanting a bit of stress relief. Back in the day, she apparently was a pretty big patron of the brewing arts. They even named a style of brewing after her. She’s been fighting the ban tooth and hoof since she found out about it.” Hotshot chuckled. “At least we know that she’s on our side, at least somewhat. Doesn’t make her any less harsh on lawbreakers though. Anyway, you better get ready. My crew will be traveling with yours for most of the trip, probably, so we can talk more then, if you’d like.”
It had been quite a while since Trixie had been in Fillydelphia, and the circumstances had been a lot worse then. Word had already spread of her spectacular failure in Ponyville, and now, without any of her equipment, or even her hat and cape, she lacked the materials, reputation, and confidence needed to hold a crowd. The tips hadn’t even been enough to buy a sandwich. Back then, Trixie still had tears to shed over her predicament. Now, it was time for her triumphant return to this collection of hotels that cost more than their worth, food that didn’t taste as good as it cost, and ponies that earned more than they deserved. Maybe they’d remember Trixie, that loser who had made so much of a fool of herself that even children’s newspapers had felt inclined to point and laugh. That’d be okay, though. She could show them that she was back, and better than ever. The entire trip from Manehattan to Fillydelphia, Trixie had been working hard to perfect her new act, and she felt like she was ready to start rebuilding her image. Hopefully, she could earn enough money and reputation to set back on her own as soon as she had completed enough tasks to pay Grayscale back for his help. As friendly as everypony involved had been, and as grateful as Trixie was for the assistance, Hotshot was walking beside her right now as a living testament to the darker side of this profession, a fact that made her feel conflicted and uncomfortable. She did not want to stay with them longer than necessary.
Trixie brought herself back to the present with a shake of her head, and looked around. She’d never had stagehooves before to help her set up, and she had to admit, it was a nice change. Meteora and Hurricane knew the mechanisms of Trixie’s wagon/stage combination as well as she did, and were quick to begin unpacking the stage equipment after they’d filed the appropriate paperwork with the city. Of course, Trixie had been the only one to use her real name, but she wasn’t concerned. Her over-the-top mannerisms would provide a decent enough cover against anyone snooping too far into her private time. That, and living alone on the road came with the added knowledge of being somewhat street-smart. Trixie would be just fine.
The amphitheatre that the trio had chosen was in the middle of a park near the center of the city, and it was ideal; close enough to the bustle of the city to attract attention, green enough for ponies to feel more comfortable and relaxed, and far enough from anything more interesting that her show was more likely to hold a crowd. Trixie took a deep breath, slowly releasing it as she mentally prepared herself.
“Nervous? I understand things didn’t go so well last time,” Hurricane said, pausing somewhat awkwardly before continuing, “Uh, if it means anything, we got your back, and judging by your practice, it’ll be a good show, and by the time we’re done, Hotshot and his crew should be too.”
Trixie shuddered slightly at the thought of Hotshot’s colts ‘taking care of’ the enforcers from the rival brewery in Canterlot. “Trixie is not nervous. Trixie is never nervous, she is simply excited for the opportunity to perform again, though Trixie is willing to admit that her last trip to Fillydelphia did not exactly go as planned. Trixie appreciates the sentiment, though.”
Already, a crowd was beginning to gather around the stage, and Trixie’s heart fluttered for a moment, despite her claims. It was only a few minutes now until the show would begin, and even if her pride wouldn’t allow her to admit it to anyone but herself, she felt a little scared. Her performances since that fateful day in Ponyville had all been disastrous or depressing in some way, and part of her worried that this would be no different. Already she could hear whispers about ‘that one mare that almost got Ponyville destroyed’, and the ‘phony who Twilight Sparkle had to save from an Ursa’.
Hurricane nudged her. “It’s go time. Show ‘em who’s Great and Powerful.” Trixie nodded, and smiled in response. “Before you do, though, Grayscale sent you a little gift.” Hurricane gestured towards a black box that he’d set near the stage. Curious, Trixie approached the box, tentatively opening it with her magic.
It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her as she lifted the fabric from its container. It was as if a little part of her had been brought back to life, in the form of an exact replica of her hat and cape, with only one difference. Whereas her original cape and hat had been decorated by a field of stars speckled onto a sky-blue field only slightly darker than her own coat, this set was midnight blue, every bit as breathtaking as Luna’s night sky. Trixie’s heart stilled itself, and she smiled once more as she began to strut onto the stage.
“Come one and come all, to see the amazing power of the GREAT and POWERFUL TRIXIE! Fillies and colts, mares and stallions, come and be entertained and astounded by her dazzling acts of magic and showmareship!” Trixie flashed a winner’s smile, and triggered a burst of fireworks, adding in her own illusionary magic in the form of extra sparks and swirls in the air. This was probably the cheapest part of her act; flashes and explosions would always draw the attention of small children, who in turn would drag the more skeptical parents towards her stage, where she would have the opportunity to ply her more subtle tricks. The important thing now was numbers. Crowds drew crowds, and the more ponies were here, the more interesting her act would appear to passers-by.
“Greetings, greetings, my fellow ponies, and welcome to Trixie’s magic show, the most amazingly entertaining display of illusionary magic from here to Canterlot. Watch and be amazed as the Great and Powerful Trixie befuddles and astounds your senses with her extraordinary acts of magical prowess.” Trixie sent up another round of fireworks for punctuation, and surveyed her crowd. It was about time to stop pitching and start her act, as she’d gathered enough of a crowd to be visually drawing to anypony passing by. “Let’s start things off simply. Call Trixie cliche, or overly sentimental, but she’s always held a special place in her heart for the magician’s classic: playing cards.” Meteora walked onto the stage, and Trixie took the deck of cards that Meteora had brought with her with a telekinetic pull. “Trixie admits she might be a little out of practice with this one, as it’s been a while, so she is compelled to ask her lovely audience for a volunteer to assist her.” The adults were still skeptical, but fillies and colts in the audience were already squirming and trying to make their hooves visible in the air for Trixie to see. After a few moments of pondering with her most thoughtful expression, she settled on a filly with an electric blue coat and white mane. “You there, with the blue coat and white mane! How would you like to assist the Great and Powerful Trixie with her act? Who knows, you might end up with a cutie mark in performance!”
The target filly squealed and giggled in delight as her parents helped her onto the stage. Trixie passed the deck to the filly, and turned back to her crowd. “Now this one is an old one, but a classic nonetheless. It is now up to my wonderful assistant to pick a card, and show it to all of you without letting me see, and then place it face-down on the stage.” Trixie gave the filly a few seconds to show the crowd the ace of diamonds .“Be sure that you don’t forget what card it is, that’s very, very important.” After the filly had set the card on the ground, Trixie stared intensely at the card, her face scrunching up in concentration. A few seconds later, the card burst into flame and was promptly incinerated, eliciting a slight gasp from the crowd. “We’ll come back to that at the end of the show, folks. For now, Trixie humbly asks that you indulge her as she wows you with astound feats of illusion, transmutation, and other acts of magical manipulation.”
Trixie had gotten the ball rolling, and obtained her audience’s attention. For about an hour and a half, she regaled the ponies in front of her with tales of things she had seen and done, illustrated by beautifully crafted illusions, accompanied by occasional tricks of misdirection and sleight of hoof. Trixie was truly in her element, using magic and charisma to entertain a crowd, and even the adults, some of which who had heard of her reputation, began to soften a little partway through the show. After noticing Hurricane nodding at her to the side though, she decided it was time to wrap things up.
“Trixie will leave her audience with a few of her personal observations regarding a certain species of bird, rumored to be the pet of our very own Princess Celestia. Of course, Trixie speaks of none other than the mystical phoenix.” Trixie concentrated, and summoned the image of a fiery bird circling the stage. “Among other magical properties is immortality, which, in conjunction with the predations of the dragons local to their natural habitat, contributes to an extraordinarily low birth rate.” Trixie paused for a moment, guiding her illusion to the tiny pile of ash that was once a card. “This is not to say that they aren’t without their own peculiar life cycle. On the contrary, when a phoenix reaches the end of its ‘lifespan’ it will burst into flame, becoming nothing more than ash in a matter of moments.” With a cry and a flash, the beautiful phoenix had ignited and collapsed into the pile of ash it was standing over. “Perhaps the reason I’m so fond of card tricks, as I mentioned before, is that my deck is an enchanted deck made with the feathers of a phoenix, given to me as a gift by a dear friend, and like a phoenix, its life is never truly over, and both are destined to be gloriously reborn from the ashes!” The ashes sparked and ignited again, and a new, brighter phoenix burst from them, a card in its beak, in a dazzling display of illusory fire and light. “It is fortunate, as well. After all, the ace of diamonds is Trixie’s favorite card.” The phoenix passed the card to Trixie, who revealed to the audience that it was the very same card that they had just seen incinerated previously, and soon applause reached Trixie’s ears, which she drank in like a mare finding water in a desert. “Thank you, thank you, you’ve been a wonderful audience. If you appreciated Trixie’s show, feel free to leave a small donation in the drop box by the stage.”
As Trixie walked off the stage, she was met by Meteora and Hurricane, the former of which was in her normal bouncy and euphoric mood as she bounded to Trixie. “Great show! You really had them going! How’d you know what filly picked? Those were some pretty illusions too! I really liked the finale too? Are phoenixes really like that? Can you-”
Trixie rolled her eyes as Hurricane’s hoof was promptly shoved into his sister’s mouth. “It was nothing really. Just a mixture of old misdirection tricks like the Magician’s Choice, an invisibility spell, and a glamour spell.”
Hurricane nodded, smiling slightly. “Yeah, you did good. Now, we have other business to attend to. Hotshot should be through by now, and it’s time to meet up with him before giving you a taste of... business negotiations. You ready? No going back after this.”
Trixie nodded, wearing a half-sincere and somewhat weak grin. “Yes... Trixie is ready to become a criminal.”
Chapter 3: Crime Pays Well
Villainy
“Okay, so here’s the deal. Grayscale has confidence in your abilities, but you're still green as grass," stated Hurricane. "Our boys should be just about finished by now, so it should be more or less safe to meet our buyer. I'll do most of the talking this time around, but feel free to introduce yourself. Just try not to get too over the top. No offense intended. We'll meet up with the rest outside of town, except Grayscale. He'll be taking a train. He's gotta spend a bit more time here recruiting."
Trixie laughed nervously, trying to ignore the faint shaking in her legs. “Ah, yes. T-Trixie appreciates the sentiment behind taking a personal hoof in one’s business. It would be rather simple to delegate such tasks, Trixie imagines.”
Hurricane nodded in response as they finished packing up Trixie’s stage. “Lock ‘er up, Trixie. But yeah, I suppose he could, but it’s not really his style. Grayscale’s a real hooves-on type of pony. It’s how he built things up as well as he did, way back when, before me and Meteora hooked up with him.”
Trixie raised an eyebrow as she slipped a saddlebag onto her back. “Is that so? He seems a bit old for the hooves-on approach. Perhaps his coloring makes him look older than he is.”
Meteora giggled. “Oh, he’s getting up in the years, but he’s still fit as a fiddle in the house of a country pony. I think he’s actually ex-Royal Guard. I heard he guarded Celestia’s day court when he was younger.”
Hurricane rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I also heard he took on ten ponies at once when he ousted the old bootlegging operation in our neighborhood. Don’t believe everything you hear. The only thing we know for certain about Grayscale is the only thing we need to know at all; he’s a good stallion who treats everyone who works for him well.”
Meteora snickered. “Yeah, in case you couldn’t tell, my brother’s been making goo-goo eyes at our boss ever since he got his cutie mark.” Trixie said nothing, but silently wondered about the origins of the lightning bolt on his flank. It wasn’t an especially uncommon image for a mark, but even if the imagery was shared, the interpretation was always different.
Hurricane snorted. “I’ll see your blatant exaggerations, sis’, and I’ll raise you a considerably more truthful story about you getting rejected by Hotshot.”
Trixie couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You had a crush on Grayscale’s lead enforcer?”
Meteora rolled her eyes as they left the park and entered into a considerably more run-down section of the city. “Well... yeah, I admit it. Hey, you’ve seen him though. He’s got body, mind, and spirit. A real catch, you know... I just didn’t know that he wasn’t interested in being caught by a mare.”
Trixie flinched. “That must have been rough. While we're on the subject, though, how did you get your mark, Hurricane? Lightning doesn't seem exactly fitting.”
Hurricane shrugged dismissively. “It isn’t anything particularly special, but it’s a bit funny. Got it after my first job with Grayscale. Meteora and I were pulling a carriage for Grayscale in Trottingham when some of our rivals decided to open fire on us in broad daylight. So, we end up being chased and shot at through the streets. Little did either party know, Celestia herself was actually discussing taxes with the mayor over tea right as Meteora decided to make an impromptu shortcut through the town hall’s stained-glass windows. Well, that got the attention of the Royal Guard, so we had Celestia’s finest chasing us from above while we were under fire from the Canterlot brewery’s enforcers. I was the one to notice the roadblock ahead of us, so the chase ended when the Canterlot boys ran smack into the same guards we had just flown over, creating a distraction for us to slip away in.”
“Trixie does not mean to be offensive, but that seems like a very old age to obtain one’s cutie mark,” Trixie noted. “In any case, that story is more interesting than you make it out to be. What does the lightning represent, anyway?”
“No offense taken,” replied Hurricane. “The lightning represents quick thinking and quick action, the two things that I feel define me. I was a bit of a late bloomer, though. It’s not very common, but it happens occasionally. Got plenty of trouble for it growing up, too. Mother always said that the only way any of her children ever got marks involved wrecking something, and I was the most well-behaved.”
“I wasn’t!” Meteora chirped. “That’s why I got mine first, when I won this race at flight camp that got a little out of hand.”
“It surprises me to the core that you would have been a problem filly,” Trixie snarked.
“I know, right?” Meteora seemed oblivious to the sarcasm as she continued her story. “But yeah, we were all visiting Cloudsdale for the summer, ‘cause Manehattan didn’t have its own flight camp back then, being mostly unicorns and earth ponies, on account of a bitter rivalry between the old blood of Cloudsdale and Manehatten, and a lack of any real pegasus-specific employment. Anyway, I got in trouble a bunch ‘cause I was a bit of a rowdy filly, believe it or not. I didn’t really make too many friends either. In fact, these two dolts, I forget their names, actually kinda hated me. They decided to play this prank on me by challenging me to a race and then unravelling some of the cloud architecture along the way. Back then, flying a unicorn up during a cloud construction was too expensive, so a lot of Cloudsdale’s buildings were held together by nothing more than a pegasus’ innate weather magic, which was fine, except for in really high-stress situations. That’s why Cloudsdale didn’t have its population boom until hot air balloons and the improved cloud-walking spell were invented.” Meteora paused. “Uh... what was I talking about again?”
Trixie put a hoof to her face. “Your cutie mark story. Something about a race. I’m confused though. What harm could somepony disrupting clouds in front of you pose?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah.” Meteora giggled, snorting slightly. “You’d think it’d be harmless, but pegasi interact with clouds like they’re mostly solid, if a bit soft and fragile. Adding to that, when the magic that keeps them more or less solid is disrupted, any non-cloud objects that are in the cloud buildings suddenly don’t have anything holding them up. Of course, that wasn’t gonna stop me. Getting permanently banned from flight camp was totally worth winning that race.”
“You were banned?” Trixie rolled her eyes. “Why is Trixie not surprised?”
“Maybe you’re just unshakable or something.” Meteora stuck her tongue out at Trixie before continuing. “But yeah, they banned me after I poked enough holes in the camp's main cloud mass for it to dissolve while we were racing under it. Apparently I caused a few hundred bits in property damage, but I had this bad baby to show for it.” Meteora wiggled her flank to emphasis the fiery comet that adorned it. “Fast and destructive, just like me. Mama tanned my hide real good though. Couldn’t sit without flinching for a week. Decided to change my name to something more fitting after that.”
Trixie nodded. “Trixie had a childhood friend who did that. Seems like a trend nowadays. Why didn’t you do as much, Hurricane? Your name hardly matches with the lightning on your flank.”
Hurricane offered no reply other than to scoff, choosing to remain silent as the two mares chattered away, only breaking his silence to signal their arrival. "We’re here. Remember, keep quiet, and follow my lead. If this goes well, we’ll get you some real practice in the next town.”
Twilight Sparkle carefully folded the cape and put it back in the box that she had been storing it in. Ever since the so-called Great and Powerful Trixie had fled Ponyville, she couldn’t help but feel a little worried, and a little guilty about how things turned out. The last she had heard of Trixie was that piece that the Foal Free Press had done on her, and that didn’t bode well at all. If even the foals were mocking her, what state was Trixie in to be performing and earning a living?
She hadn’t shared her worries with her friends, though. Twilight couldn’t help but fear that they wouldn’t be as sympathetic, after Trixie had taken time to personally humiliate most of them. She also couldn’t help but wonder how much ponies blamed Trixie for those two colts bringing an Ursa Minor into town after hearing her falsely brag about defeating one. Still, she couldn’t put her mind at rest on the matter, so she had sent a few messages to her mentor, Princess Celestia, asking for help on locating the unicorn. She’d also explained the story of how the braggart had come to town, humiliated some of her closest friends, and indirectly prompted two colts to bring a monster into town. Celestia had, of course, promptly put ponies to work in assisting her star pupil, and now some definitive information had come in.
From the Desk of Princess Celestia
Dear Twilight Sparkle,
Until recently, tracking down this ‘Trixie’ character has been a little difficult. We’ve gotten a few mentions of a blue showmare putting on street shows and entertaining children in some of Equestria’s more rural locations, but my dear sister’s ‘Gypsy Reforms’ have made it hard to pin her down. Bless her soul, though, Luna’s really trying, and although I’ve already mentioned to you my slight frustration in dealing with a lot of her antiquated notions, I have faith that with a little time to adjust, she’ll once again make a fine ruler. Today, though, we finally have made a breakthrough on the matter of Trixie’s location. I’d like to also say that I’m extremely proud of you for bearing no grudge against Trixie. You’ve matured into a wonderful mare since your arrival in Ponyville, and I’ve never been more pleased with all that you have learned and accomplished.
I digress, though. Trixie actually gave a performance in Fillydelphia earlier today, in fact. My guards have informed me that she had attire and equipment that completely belie the impressions of poverty that we’ve received thus far. My best guess would be that she has found a new benefactor. I’ve already instructed one of my ponies to find out where she’s headed next, and as soon as we get that information, I will forward it to you.
As always, I greatly look forward to your next correspondence and I feel blessed to have a student as faithful and talent as you are.
Sincerely,
Twilight tried to wipe the vacant grin from her face, with limited success. Anypony who knew her would also know that Celestia’s approval was probably one of the most important things in Twilight’s life. Celestia was aware of this of course, and took care not to tread on her student’s fragile self-esteem. Occasionally, she’d slip a few words of praise into a letter for Twilight, which would leave the unicorn in an upbeat mood for at least a week, or until she invoked Celestia’s disappointment with an unusually destructive want-it-need-it spell.
However, now was not the time to bathe in praise. Twilight had no experience in sewing, but she’d managed to do at least a few rudimentary repairs on Trixie’s hat and cape in her spare time. She’d also preserved what she could from the wreckage of Trixie’s old wagon before those two colts had cleaned up the remaining mess. A quick preservation spell, and it was all sealed away for the day that Twilight had put her fears to rest.
When Trixie had fled Ponyville, caring more for her shattered pride than her well-being, she’d left all of her possessions, including her bits. Twilight had searched around for her the following day, but the performer was nowhere to be found. It was comforting to know that she was fine now, but Twilight still felt the need for resolution, and at the very least wanted to let Trixie know she wasn’t universally despised in Ponyville. The mare had seemed so heartbroken when she had left Ponyville; her pain and shame had been obvious to anyone who had observed her weak declaration of superiority as she had turned tail and fled with a poorly conjured puff of smoke behind her. Surely there was more to her than that flimsy wall of pride, and everypony needed a friend every now and then. Of course, Twilight would be a fool to deny that she was also a bit curious about Trixie’s new benefactor. Who else could better relate to the importance of having a great mentor, after all?
Twilight allowed herself another satisfied smile, and began packing.
The undercover division of the Royal Guard did not see much action, but the action they did see tended to be rather dark. Crime was at an all time low in Equestria, but it still existed, and with advances in technology and technique, it was becoming harder and harder to track down ponies who broke the law. With the return of her sister, Celestia had also seen fit to reinstate Luna’s long-unneeded harbingers, the Night Guard. Of course, every officer worth his salt lick hated the Gypsy Reforms with a passion only matched by his fanatical loyalty to the throne, Luna included, so nopony said a word while in Canterlot.
Occasionally, however, the Night Guard found a more mundane use in performing tasks that the Royal Guard’s fanfare would cause too much stir to be effective at, such as locating a pony for Princess Celestia’s personal student. A subtle hoof in such tasks often proved to be the most effective, and two Night Guards were currently wandering around the less well-to-do districts of Fillydelphia, wondering where their target had slipped to.
The first turned to her partner. “I’m pretty sure she’s still in this area, but I’m not sure where or why.”
“Seems fishy to me. You saw that stage, right? That’s custom-made. Expensive-looking too. Where does a mare like her get the bits for that?,” the casually-dressed stallion replied in response.
“You’re too suspicious, you know that? Not everyone is a hard-boiled, salt-licking, convict.” The mare laughed softly. “Besides, would little Twilight be associating with criminals?”
The stallion snorted. “She might not know. That filly’s always been a bit naive. Moot point for now though. Wait here a sec’, I think I see her.”
Trixie let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The deal had been... surprisingly tame, boring even. There was no overhanging threat of rivals, or a sudden police raid. Hurricane had escorted them to a humble-looking soda parlor, the owner of which then took them to a back room. Hurricane presented a calm, business-like sales pitch, the two had bantered for a bit afterward, and it had been done. Trixie had occasionally offered a quip here and there, and even though her inexperience had shown, the stallion that they were pitching to had taken warmly to Trixie, and gave her a few kind pointers. It seemed almost unreal. Hurricane had given Trixie a few of the bits that they’d made, and sent her off to wander the city while he and Meteora unloaded the alcohol.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” Trixie looked up from her reverie to see a smiling stallion waving to her from across the mostly empty street. “You’re that performer from the park, right? The Great and Powerful Trixie?”
“Yes, the one and only,” Trixie responded with a nod, wondering who this stallion was. “Can Trixie help you?”
“Oh, yes,” the stallion said, eagerly nodding. “My two fillies and I are on a bit of a vacation, and they really enjoyed your show, so I was wondering if you’d be appearing in any other cities soon? We wanted to be sure to catch you if happened to stop by any of our other destinations.”
Trixie resisted the urge to giggle and suppressed a rather undignified noise that can only be quantified as a ‘squee’. “You really-I mean-Trixie means, yes, she will be appearing in other cities soon. Trixie will actually be returning to Manehattan after her time in Fillydelphia has concluded. It would be a pleasure to entertain your fillies once again if you happen to be in the area.” It had been so long since Trixie had received direct praise for her work, and it felt heady. As the stallion thanked her and departed, she was too wrapped up in the praise to hear him muttering to a mare nearby about having accomplished his task. For now, only one thing mattered to her.
The Great and Powerful Trixie was back.
Chapter 4: Well, This is Awkward
Villainy
Trixie felt high on life. The entire ordeal of selling an illicit substance hadn't been nearly as scary as she'd predicted, and her performance had been well-received. Life had finally dealt her a winning hand to recoup some of her losses with, and maybe turn a profit too. Of course, she was still concerned about how high the ante had been, but everything had a price. If peddling a little social lubricant was the cost of regaining her passion, it was well worth it. Grayscale wasn't involving her in any of the more extreme aspects of the business, so for now, there wasn't any problem with sticking around.
After their successful night in Fillydelphia, the trio had met up with Hotshot's crew on the outskirts of the city, and proceeded to celebrate the first successful expansion in months. Though it started relatively innocently, soon enough, Meteora popped out of Trixie's wagon bearing a clear liquid that Trixie was convinced was not water. "Trixie was under the impression that we unloaded all of our...product," she stated hesitantly.
Trixie's face burned slightly as the entire company laughed. "Nah," said Meteora as she began to pour some shots. "This stuff is Grayscale's special blend, reserved for equally special occasions. He doesn't like to talk about it, but this job was pretty important. The Manehattan slums were pretty much all we still had. With new buyers in Fillydelphia, we have a chance to regain lost ground, and we dealt a blow to those Canterlot foals to boot. But enough about that. We have something more important to attend to." Meteora grinned wickedly as she poured a final shot. "Your right of passage."
"Trixie does not feel entirely comfortable with this." She hadn't touched a drop of alcohol since her wild younger days of senselessly rebelling against her parents and 'The Mare', and even then, the cheap beer of her youth had almost no alcohol content. It was about rebellion, not intoxication, after all.
Meteora giggled. "Oh, don't be such a spoilsport. It's only a single shot. The tradition goes like this. Anypony who can take a shot of Grayscale's finest and keep it down on the first try without passing out or throwing up gets whatever is in the bit-purses of those around her." Trixie hesitantly enveloped the shot glass in a telekinesis spell, and brought it closer to her face, as if inspecting it would make it less intimidating. "Fillies and gentlecolts!," yelled Meteora. "I propose a toast. Here's to Fillydelphia and our newest family member, the Great and Powerful Trixie. Bottoms up, everypony. See you all in the afterlife."
"Hear, hear," called Hotshot in response. In unison, every mare and stallion present raised their shots. Trixie braced herself, and before she could lose her resolve, emptied her shot glass.
Time seemed to slow down as the liquid rushed down her throat, and Trixie began to wonder if her esophagus was melting. Judging from the burning sensations she was now getting, Trixie wouldn't have been surprised if her insides were currently in the process of liquefying. As she began to descend into fits of coughing and sputtering, Trixie wondered what sane pony would ever want to ingest this foul liquid. After a few moments, Trixie turned to Meteora, who was staring expectantly. "Th-the Grrrrreat and Powerful T-Trixie believes that she has won the wager. She might require a little time to rest, though." Her vision darkened slightly as she began stumbling towards the wagon, barely registering the whooping and laughter of the ponies behind her as the revelry began. She did notice, after a few seconds of not being able to move forward, that the door to her wagon was closed. "Trixie does not need a bed. In fact, the grass is looking quite invit-"
Meteora rolled her eyes at the now unconscious mare. "Fillies and gentlecolts, Grayscale's Firewater has claimed another victim. Your purses are safe."
When Trixie awoke, the party was still going strong, and her mental faculties had not entirely returned to her. "Welcome back to the land of the living. Have a good nap?" Meteora's speech came with the hyperactive bouncing that Trixie was beginning to get used to, with a set of rosy-cheeked giggles that were entirely new.
"Trixie believes you might be drunk," Trixie said as she hauled herself to her hooves, wobbling for a moment before staggering towards the other ponies. The world was spinning slightly, but Trixie didn't mind. Nothing so trivial as constant disorientation would stop the Great and Powerful Trixie from performing a task as simple as walking. Trixie was far too good for that.
"Meteora thinks you are too!," her friend responded as Trixie tumbled into the dirt beside her. "It's good that you're up finally. Don't want you to miss the party."
Trixie considered reprimanding the ground for getting in her way, but decided against showing the impudent heckler its place. "How long was T-Trixie out?"
"Not long at all! You did much much better than I did on my first time. Hurricane always says I'm a lightweight." Meteora giggled again as she tried unsuccessfully to haul Trixie back upright, letting out a small hiccup as she lost her grip and tumbled over into the grass. "I don't even remember my first time drinking this stuff at all. Hurricane tells me that he still has nightmares though. He's such a downer, I tell you! Always volunteers for lookout duty. I think he got traumatized by his first shot of Firewater. Works as a rum-runner, and refuses to drink!"
Trixie finally managed to push the ground back below her, where it belonged, letting out a huff of displeasure at having to teach the lesser entity a lesson. "That sounds boring. Trixie respects the adventurous soul. Why, Trixie herself has wandered the width and breadth of Equestria during her travels. Trixie has seen the wonders of the world and much more!." Trixie raised herself to her back hooves with a flourish, and the ground chose that moment for revenge. "Trixie has seen everything from El Comedero de la Luna to Celestia's horn in the Borderland Mountains."
Meteora raised her eyebrow. "What were you doing in the borderlands?"
"Back in her hayday, even griffins would come flock to see Trixie perform. It was magnificent! At least, it was, until she ruined it, the arrogant little hayseed." Trixie's lip curled as she thought of Twilight Sparkle. "She'll see, though. No amount of slander and misinformation will keep Trixie down!"
Meteora rolled back onto her feet. "What're you talking about? Who is 'she'?"
Trixie, after righting herself again, stomped her hoof in anger. "Twilight Sparkle! It's her fault that Trixie lost everything. She had to go and show up Trixie in front of everypony! Well, now she'll see, Trixie's back in business, and then Trixie will return one day to show her that being Princess Celestia's f-favorite doesn't make her any better than anypony else."
Meteora couldn't contain her laughter, and Trixie's face burned red at the slight. "Hey, don't be like that! It's just so...fitting that you'd manage to find the worst possible mare to piss off. I mean, nopony else here can say they're enemies with one of the Elements of Harmony, and the strongest of them at that. That's...impressive, in a really strange, messed up way. What happened?"
Her indignation abating, Trixie nodded. "W-well, Trixie was just travelling from town to town, performing her awesome magic act, when she stumbles upon this backwater named Ponyville. Now, Trixie hadn't been keeping up with the news much, so she was just barely aware of the specifics regarding Nightmare Moon's return, including the identities of our new... national heroines. So Trixie, in her traditional fashion sets up her stage and begins to wow the inhabitants of Ponyville. Partway through the show, these three impetuous mares dare to challenge Trixie, thinking that they are better than her. Well, Trixie shows them up onstage, and all is well. Unfortunately, Trixie might have...exaggerated a little, and as a result, two foolish colts bring an Ursa into town. An Ursa of all things! They then wake Trixie up in the middle of the night, expecting her to vanquish said Ursa. Trixie was just getting warmed up when Twilight Sparkle intervened, making Trixie look like a fool in front of everypony. Trixie didn't dare stay in town after that, and soon after, she couldn't even make a living in other towns due to all of the slander she'd received. Trixie was bitless when Grayscale found her, all because of Twilight Sparkle."
Meteora put a hoof on Trixie's shoulder, half out of sympathy and half to keep herself from tipping over. "That's harsh, girl. Sounds like you could use another drink."
"Is Trixie dead? If not, can somepony please amend this?" Trixie groaned as she rolled over, trying in vain to escape the light that Celestia's sun was assaulting her with. When she finally managed to stumble out of her wagon, she found that everypony else had already started cleaning and packing the results of the last night's revelry. Small tents were stowed carefully into their packs, and empty shot glasses were meticulously cleaned and stored in the compartment Meteora had fetched them from. Trixie let out another groan. "How can anypony be so lively after imbibing that foul concoction?"
Seeing Trixie's distressed, disheveled state, Meteora sauntered over, a glass of water cradled between her left wing and her body. "Some party, eh? Here, drink up. It'll help the hangover. Tried to get you to drink some last night, but you couldn't keep any down." Trixie gratefully took the water with her magic, downing it swiftly. "Hey, there's a stream about five minutes west of here. It's a nice and secluded little glade, and most of us have already cleaned up, so you don't have to worry about being disturbed. We'll take care of the cleaning. After having so much on your first night, nopony here will fault you for not helping."
Trixie nodded gratefully. "What exactly happened? Trixie's memory is somewhat...fuzzy past the second shot."
"It was pretty tame, really. I mean, aside from the target practice, but you were asleep for that, and nopony got permanently injured. You gave another magic performance for everypony, and then had this really touching, if stuttered and somewhat incomprehensible, speech on how much performing meant to you." Meteora laughed. "You were pretty out of it."
"Trixie did not do anything that she would regret later, did she?," queried the performer as she gathered the soap and shampoo she had thought to pack before they left Manehattan.
"Well, I suppose that would depend-Oh, oooooh, that kind of thing. No way. The colts here are way too well mannered to take advantage of a drunken filly, and Hurricane was way too sober to let them anyway. Don't worry about it. Now get out of here and wash. You smell like alcohol." With that, and a light cuff from her wing to shoo Trixie along, Meteora went back to cleaning.
The walk was a little more than five minutes for the still-groggy mare, but the payoff was well worth it. The glade, as promised, was secluded and more than a bit scenic, with the chirping of birds and quiet chattering of various woodland creatures providing a soft soundscape for Trixie to relax in as she sank into the clear waters of the stream. The shock of the cold water only proved innervating to Trixie. As she began to clean the filth and dirt of the previous night from her mane, coat, and tail, she considered her new situation for what seemed to be the millionth time. This time, though, there was a twinge in her heart that she hadn't felt in years. As she tried to search within herself for the source of the warmth, it slowly began to dawn on her. 'Trixie...I have felt this before,' thought the soaked mare. 'I felt this before I left my family to perform. It was an odd thought to her, as she hadn't left her parents on the most favorable terms. They hadn't wanted her to be a travelling magician, and had always pressured her to turn her talent in illusion to a profession with better pay, namely, the Royal Guard, but Trixie had been adamant. Still, they had passed their blessing to their daughter and wished her the best, and she hadn't looked back. She had thought about them at times, and about asking them for help, but stubborn pride had always blocked the way home. Now, she felt the stirring of similar care and affection from strangers who seemed, on the whole, to be legitimately interested in her well-being. Trixie idly recalled Grayscale referring to the group as a family at one point.
'Family. Trixie can live with being a part of this family.'
They reached Manehattan without incident, and Trixie found herself amidst a hearty round of congratulations from Grayscale, who had arrived ahead of the group by train, and the brewers and distribution crew, who had stayed behind during the operation. As the victors' welcoming committee slowly dispersed to go back to work, Trixie once again found herself alone with Grayscale, who was watching the activity with a slight smile. "No losses, a clean deal, and no police involvement. Today is a good day."
Trixie nodded. "Trixie was most pleased with her chance to return to performing, and thanks you very much, sir."
"Dispense with the formalities, Trixie. They're meaningless most of the time anyway." Grayscale waved a hoof at Trixie, and then signaled her to follow. "Do you feel any guilt over breaking the law, Trixie?"
"Trixie does not," she replied after a moment of pondering. "The ban on alcohol seems more a knee-jerk reaction to an irresponsible act than a well-constructed product of reason. Celestia has ruled long and fairly, but Trixie cannot say that everything our Princess has done has been perfect."
"Do you believe that breaking a different law would be wrong, then?," Grayscale continued as the two made their way to his office.
Trixie opened the door for Grayscale with her magic as they arrived, taking a seat in front of his desk. "Trixie believes that laws are not a product of right and wrong, but a product of what is good for Equestria and what is bad. Right and wrong are completely separate from that, even if they often overlap."
Grayscale smiled. "A reasonable response, but I'll argue a step further. Trixie, what if I told you that right and wrong don't exist?"
Trixie did not smile in return. "Trixie would suddenly be filled with more questions and concerns than answers," she replied, tactfully leaving out part of what she was thinking. 'About you, anyway.'
"Think about it for a moment. What exactly are right and wrong? They're just concepts made up by ponies to tell others how they should act. Who is to say that what I consider right is any more correct than what you do? Celestia has emphasized beyond belief how she is merely our equal, so we cannot look to her for the superior definition of right and wrong. In the end, the only thing that defines what is right and what is wrong is what we think they are. They're just thoughts, subjective abstractions. There's no way to quantify right or wrong, or prove definitively what they are. Everypony thinks of them differently. It's meaningless, because when two ideologies come into conflict, it is the victor, not any predefined moral dictator, who decides that the other pony was in the wrong for opposing them. Just something to think on, Trixie. We'll talk more later." With that, Trixie left the office, visibly shaken at what her employer had said.
With no immediate task, Trixie found herself wandering the streets of Manehattan, pondering what the best place for a performance would be now that she was back in business. With her new job, she'd not have to worry about going broke while rebuilding her reputation, and eventually she could break away, and be on her own once more, not relying on anypony but herself. 'I will miss Meteora and Hurricane, though. Still, what must be done, must be done. Trixie is her own mare.'
With that, Trixie cast any regret from her mind, and continued her jaunt through the city until she found her way blocked by two of Celestia's guards. "Excuse me, sirs, but Trixie must ask you to move. She has places to be."
Neither budged. "Trixie Lulamoon?," one queried flatly. Trixie could only nod in response, as her heart had jumped to her throat. "By order of Her Majesty Princess Celestia, you are to come with us." Trixie nodded silently, trying to hold back the oncoming panic attack. After several painful minutes of walking, the guards led her to the third floor of a somewhat posh-looking hotel. By now Trixie was nearly in tears, fearful that she had somehow been caught. When the guards finally stopped in front of one of the suites, Trixie was ready to faint. With no small amount of timidity, she opened the door.
What she found inside rendered her speechless for a few seconds before words finally returned to her. "Twilight Sparkle?"
Chapter 5: Differences of Opinion
Villainy
It took Trixie a few seconds to fully comprehend the situation she was in as Twilight Sparkle, favored student of Princess Celestia herself and the kindling at the core of the fire that had consumed Trixie’s career, gave her the most infuriatingly earnest look that anypony could ever muster. Trixie glowered in response, her face only a twitch away from being twisted into a snarl. The two guardsponies in the room shifted slightly, put on alert by Trixie’s overt hostility. Trixie backed away from Twilight in response, taking a moment to regain her composure. “Why has Trixie been summoned here?”
Twilight was taken aback somewhat by the sheer hatred radiating from Trixie, and awkwardly shuffled around a few notecards that had been sitting on the nearby coffee table. “Um, well, I just kinda felt bad about how things turned out last time we met. The last I heard of you was from that article in the Foal Free-”
“Don’t you dare speak of those insolent brats and their slanderous lies around Trixie!” Trixie found herself wanting to break off Twilight’s horn and stick it where Celestia’s sun wouldn’t dare to shine, but the overbearing presence of the two guards behind her stayed her hoof from any of the more drastic actions currently occupying her thoughts. “Trixie doesn’t want your pity, nor is Trixie interested in absolving you of your guilty conscience. Why don’t you go back to your little backwater and pal around with your friends while Trixie works to undo the damage you foals did to her reputation and tries to actually earn a living instead of mooching off of the favoritism of the Princess!”
Twilight faltered. This wasn’t what she had imagined at all. Trixie was supposed to understand, the wounds were supposed to mend, and they were supposed to at least be on civil terms, if not share a new friendship. “I just want to make things right, Trixie. I-I know you had a hard time after Ponyville, and you got a lot of blame placed on you that wasn’t entirely yours, and I just wanted to try and see if I could make up for some of that.”
“You... want to make things RIGHT?!” Trixie roared in response. “You want to make things right?! Okay, Twilight Sparkle, if you want to make things better, then go live by yourself, drifting from town to town, barely scraping a living off of the pathetic hooffuls of bits that you earn from entertaining foals or performing magic tricks on the street. Live without any money, any friends, or any dignity, then come back to me, you insolent, spoiled brat! You’ve had everything you’ve ever wanted handed to you on a silver platter, and you think you can relate to me?!”
Twilight was on the verge of tears now “But I-”
“Go to Tartarus, Twilight Sparkle.” Trixie stood up, intent on leaving the room.
“Wait!” Twilight called after Trixie, trying to speak past shallow breaths and barely contained tears. “I...I can see now, you’ll never forgive us... you’ll never forgive me. I just wanted to do the right thing. I saved what I could of your belongings from your wagon, Trixie. Just take them, and then you can go. If for some reason you ever change your mind about putting all of this to rest, I’ll be in Ponyville.” Twilight levitated a box towards Trixie, who opened it barely enough to see a scrap of blue fabric before her own breath began to catch. Left without anything to say and a tide of emotions she wasn’t quite ready to deal with, Trixie fled.
Trixie charged through the theater, clutching the small box of her possessions in a telekinetic death-grip, and didn’t stop until she had reached the office-turned-bedroom that Grayscale had assigned to her for use while she wasn’t traveling. Nervously drawing in her breath, she opened the box, carefully examining its contents. The first thing she pulled out was an old photograph, depicting Trixie with her parents, back when she had first gotten her mark. Those had been simpler times, and even though Trixie’s parents had always disapproved of Trixie’s career path, they’d always wanted her to be happy, and Trixie found herself a little homesick. Setting the photograph aside, Trixie pulled out a modest sack of bits and a somewhat ruined piece of paper that depicted a rudimentary blueprint of a fold-out light display; Trixie had still been adding on to her old cart before Ponyville. The last two things to come out were a hat and a cape, both bearing a matching blue-with-white-stars motif. Trixie felt her breath catch again as she saw the shoddy repair work done on a few of the more obvious rips that the set had suffered when the Ursa Minor had stomped her old cart into splinters. Trixie’s mind went blank as she saw the pathetic state that her parents’ gift was in, caught between the need to scream in rage at Twilight and the need to curl into a ball and sob at the destruction of the last piece of her old life, and her last link to home.
As Trixie began to lean toward the latter of the two options, a knock on the door ripped her away from her thoughts. Trixie desperately tried to regather the shattered pieces of her composure. “Come in,” Trixie said softly.
The door opened to reveal Grayscale, who wore a concerned expression. “Some of the other ponies told me that you’d come in looking pretty distraught. I thought I’d come and see if you were okay.” Grayscale glanced at the box and its unloaded contents. “Looks like you might have had a run-in with the past today. Care to talk about it?”
Trixie wanted to tell him no, that the Great and Powerful Trixie needed nopony to lean on, nopony to cry on, but she found herself too tired to resist. After explaining the events of the day to Grayscale in a quiet, subdued tone, Grayscale took on a pensive facial expression as he remained in the chair he had seated himself in during Trixie’s tale. After a few moments, he spoke. “You probably aren’t going to want to hear this, Trixie, but I don’t think that Twilight Sparkle ever meant to do you any wrong. From what you’ve told me of the events in Ponyville, and of your encounter today, I think that she would have rather avoided the situation entirely, and only stepped in when she felt her home and friends were threatened.”
“But-but Trixie lost everything there! Her home, her reputation, everything! Twilight is the only one to blame for what Trixie has gone through,” stammered Trixie, clutching her cape closely like a foal’s security blanket.
“Why does blame need to be placed, Trixie? Bad things happen in life. Circumstance and our lapses of judgment create situations where nopony wins. You had no way of knowing that your exaggerations would prompt those colts to bring in an Ursa, nor could Twilight Sparkle know that the mere act of saving her home would ruin your career. Sometimes, bad things simply happen,” Grayscale replied softly. “Wouldn’t it be better to band together in times of pain and hurt?”
Trixie sighed. “It’s just so embittering. Trixie has worked hard for everything she ever had, and in an instant all of her hard work is destroyed while Twilight Sparkle is fed happiness from the silver spoon of royal favor. She gets to be a hero just for being born with a lot of magical power, while hard working Trixie loses everything over a misunderstanding.”
Grayscale sighed. “This is the greatest injustice of life, for those born into power to keep it while those without it fight with all of their strength just to get by. It’s a terrible result of millennia of inequality, but Twilight Sparkle is not at fault for this. If anything she is doing her best to bridge the gap, living in a backwater when she could have the trappings of royalty. Perhaps you should give her a second chance. She might be a bit different than you think.”
Trixie nodded, letting her head droop slightly. “Trixie will consider your words,” she conceded grudgingly.
Grayscale nodded and smiled. “That’s all I’ll ever ask... except for the part where you have a new job tomorrow. When you’re feeling up to it, come see me in my office and I’ll give you the particulars."
“Things are getting more serious faster than I anticipated, but I think I might have a lead on something that will give us a large advantage on the Canterlot brewery. They’ve been buying a lot of weapons lately, and I think they’re getting ready for a major offensive against us.” Grayscale turned away from his audience and pointed toward a map. “In between Ponyville and Hoofington. two days from now, a convoy containing weapons, alcohol, and a very, very important pony will be making a pit stop a little past the border of the Everfree forest. Trixie, I want you to put on a show tomorrow in Hoofington. The wet-work there has already been done, so Hotshot and his boys won’t be joining you until after you’re done there.”
“Trixie will do as you wish. When do we leave?” Trixie sat in Grayscale’s office alongside Hotshot and Hurricane, who had been summoned to the room shortly after Trixie had arrived. “Trixie still has one last performance scheduled here before she is ready to depart, and she does not wish to have a schedule conflict.”
“Don’t worry, Trixie, I already factored in your performance schedule,” said Grayscale reassuringly. “Everything will be set for your departure an hour after your afternoon performance today. Just don’t wear yourself out too much, you need to be fresh for your performance in Hoofington.”
“Who is this pony that you say is so important?” asked Hotshot. “Do we kill him?” His ears subsequently drooped a little upon seeing Trixie flinch very visibly. “Err, sorry, Trixie.”
“No need to apologize to Trixie, Hotshot,” said Grayscale. “If anything, I should apologize for dropping her so suddenly into all of this. I normally would be a little gentler introducing somepony new to the business, but things have been heating up lately.”
Trixie stared at the floor for a moment. “Trixie requires no apology. She understood what she was getting into when she was offered this position. She just still has a few reservations about...well...”
Grayscale nodded. “If you didn’t have reservations about the more grisly side of our work, you wouldn’t belong with us. Believe me when I say that we’d coexist peacefully with our rivals if we could, but they have proven time and time again that they will not tolerate the existence of competition. That’s where all of this is heading though. The pony we’re after is a unicorn stallion named Mirage. His coat is sand colored, and his mane is an identical brown to Hotshot’s. He’s also a master illusionist responsible for keeping the Canterlot brewery concealed right under the nose of the palace. We get him, we can end this bloody rivalry once and for all. It’s bad enough that we have to operate outside of the scope of the law without being at each other’s throats. Now, you all have your missions. Good luck, everypony. Hurricane, please remain in my office for a while. You and I have things to discuss.”
Hotshot and Trixie filed out of Grayscale’s office, both of them showing various signs of discomfort in each other’s presence. After what seemed like hours walking towards the stairs, Hotshot broke first. “You think I’m a monster, don’t you?”
“Of course not! You and everypony else here have acted sterling to Trixie.” Her tone was reassuring, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. “All of this just takes getting used to. Trixie believes Grayscale when he says that he’d prefer an alternative, and Trixie knows that despite how shiny our society is on the outside, not all ponies get to avoid the darker parts.”
Hotshot’s gaze fell to the same spot on the floor that Trixie’s had been focused on. “We only fight in self-defence. I know I can come off as a bit light hearted when it comes to what I do, but I’ve seen too many good ponies die because of those Canterlot butchers. If I let my reservations get in the way of my job, more of our ponies die. The pony who had my job previously was soft-hearted, and he got half of Grayscale’s employees killed in one night of softness. It’s my job to protect everypony here, and if that means taking the fight to them, so be it.”
Trixie tilted her head. “Trixie has explained the reasons prompting her trepidation, yet you still seem quite unsettled and unsatisfied with this answer. Why is Trixie’s opinion so important to you?”
Hotshot laughed. “Sorry if I seem a little zealous on the subject of what I do for Grayscale, but whenever we get new blood around here, it’s always the same, at least at first. Everypony always assumes that I’m some sort of stone-hearted monster. I just want to protect my family, and this is the only way I know how. Me and my boys have the job that nopony else around here wants, and sometimes, being looked at like you’re a manticore fresh out of Everfree gets a little disheartening.”
As Trixie was forming her response, Hurricane approached the two. “Sorry if I’m interrupting girl talk time here, but you two are blocking the stairs.”
Hotshot rolled his eyes as he backed away from the stairs. “You’re hilarious, Hurricane.” After Hurricane had passed the two, Hotshot tilted his head. “That’s odd. Hurricane isn’t very joke-prone. Whatever Grayscale talked to him about must have put him in a good mood.”
“Indeed,” answered Trixie distantly. “In any case, fear not, Hotshot. Trixie understands the position you are in. It isn’t really something she can ever get used to, but Trixie isn’t a good enough mare to think of a better way to defend against our enemies.” Trixie paused for a moment before continuing softly. “I would do no less to save the lives of my family.”
Hotshot’s ears perked. “You slipped.”
Trixie did a double take. “Trixie begs your pardon?”
Hotshot laughed, and brought a few papers out of the saddlebags resting against his maroon coat, shuffling them idly. “You said ‘I’ instead of Trixie.”
“Trixie knows not of what you speak,” she huffed indignantly in response. “Trixie must take her leave of you, however, to get ready for her next performance. It has been a pleasure conversing with you, Hotshot.”
“Sure thing,” Hotshot said, and began to descend the stairs. “I gotta take inventory anyway. Some of our weapons have gone missing. See you after Hoofington, G-and-P-T.” Trixie couldn’t help but flinch at the nickname she hadn’t heard since Ponyville. As Trixie began preparing for her show, her thoughts were on Twilight Sparkle.
Another successful show, and a pretty good haul in tips as well. Trixie was packed and ready to journey to Hoofington. Despite using the setting to embellish some of her stories prior to her career collapsing, she had never actually had a reason to visit the medium-sized settlement. It’s position between Ponyville and the rest of the world drew in a fair amount of the tourist travelers on their way to Ponyville to try and get a glimpse of the six national heroes known as the Elements of Harmony, many in particular drawn to that same infuriating mare that seemed to be a subject of many of Trixie’s thoughts lately. That same tourist traffic, however, served to attract a great many performers to the city, which, unlike rural Ponyville, had access to the conveniences of a decently sized city. While Trixie was not concerned that the quality of these tourist-trapping mares and stallions’ shows, Trixie knew as an experienced performer that an excess of talent created jaded audiences, and thus Trixie had always avoided the place. Nonetheless, it was time to finally pay the city a visit.
Maybe she’d stop by Ponyville afterward.
Villainy
Ten years ago
Grayscale dodged as his opponent clumsily thrust a spear towards him, easily knocking it out of his opponent’s telekinetic grip with a well-placed kick. With a practiced movement, he tackled the pleading unicorn in front of him, striking his opponent’s horn hard enough to crack it. The unicorn howled in pain, and Grayscale’s own horn lit as he drew his sword. “Broken Chain, by order of Her Majesty Princess Celestia, for crimes against the crown including rebellion, murder, and sedition, you are under arrest.”
Around the shattered basement that the rebels had been hiding in, various members of the Royal Guard finished securing and extracting their new prisoners. As Broken Chain was dragged kicking and screaming away by one of Grayscale’s subordinates, a familiar light flooded the room. Grayscale instinctively turned and bowed to his monarch. “Princess Celestia, the rebels have all been accounted for.”
The ageless princess smiled in response, but her face was still tinged with sadness. “You have done well, as always, Captain. Did you know Broken Chain was once a good friend of mine? He has such a brilliant mind, and I know he could have been such a boon to society if he hadn’t resorted to violence. I never expected his resentment to go this far.”
Grayscale’s gaze fell to the ground. “Permission to speak freely, Your Majesty?”
Celestia nodded, her luminescent mane billowing in an astral breeze only she could perceive. “Speak your mind, Captain.”
“I...” Grayscale hesitated for a moment, before gathering his courage. “I feel that this could have been avoided if he had been allowed to speak his mind. Surely he could have been persuaded to drop his complaints. You have been ruling fairly and justly for time untold, and Equestria is prosperous for it.”
Celestia sighed. “Broken Chain meant well, he really did...Maybe I am partly to blame for this spiralling out of control.” Celestia drew in her breath, holding it for a moment before speaking. “At what point do I become a tyrant, Captain? Equestria exists in a state of harmony rivaled by no other nation on the planet, and it is my eternal shame to say that it is founded upon lies and enforced ignorance. I keep my little ponies blissfully unaware of most of the bad things that happen in Equestria, and their ignorance allows you to do your work with less obstruction. Many ponies could never turn to evil if they wanted to, simply because they do not know how, and you and I both work to keep this so. Criminals like Broken Chain never see the public eye, and their ideas stay with them. My subjects’ idea of dastardly is someone stealing a few bits from a vendor, not revolution or murder.” Celestia let out a hollow laugh, hanging her head low. “Maybe I am not so wise as my subjects have taught me to believe, but I am afraid, Captain. I am afraid that without me to guide them, my little ponies will sink into the same mire of chaos, infighting, and greed that allowed my predecessor, Discord to take control. Did you know that right before Discord came, ponies were experimenting with a form of democracy almost identical to his? They were so divided, so disharmonious, that any effort to form a united resistance to his tyranny came far, far too late. So many ponies died... I vowed I would never let that happen again.”
“But we have learned so much, and progressed so far since those times, Your Majesty,” replied Grayscale, doubt entering his timid voice. “I understand that the peace must be kept, but at what point are we worthy to choose our own fates? Your eye is watchful and wise, Your Majesty, but are we forever fated to be as children to be herded by a surrogate mother?”
“You have always been worthy,” whispered Celestia. “I’m so proud of my subjects, accomplishing so much in the time that I have been graced to rule this land. I want this peace that we have, this happiness and prosperity, to last as long as possible. I wrong my subjects by protecting them from themselves, but I... You haven’t met my pupil, have you? Twilight Sparkle, my pride and joy. I found her when she was but a filly, her flank having been marked before my very eyes. She’s a magical prodigy, and a brilliant mind even in her adolescence. I want...I need her to grow up in this land that we have now, this safe world of peace and happiness. My subjects deserve the right to choose their fates, but don’t they also deserve peace and prosperity?” Celestia used one of her wings to nudge Grayscale’s head upward. “I am far from as perfect as ponies say, but the least I can do for my subjects is give them long, happy, prosperous lives.”
Grayscale couldn’t meet her gaze. “Perhaps, if you trusted them a little more, they might have both.” Celestia had no response.
Grayscale left the ruined hideout hoping that nopony would notice the faint bulge of a new book in his armor's storage compartment.
Present
Hoofington stank of tourist trap. Trixie was relatively sure that this city was where wallets came to die. Grayscale had somehow pulled some strings to get her a relatively public performing avenue at the Redhorn Amphitheatre, a somewhat posh structure that was mildly famous for being the jumping point for pop sensation Sapphire Shores. Trixie was inclined to wonder how Grayscale had managed to secure her place there, but decided to cut that train of thought short before it took her mind to darker places.
Trixie had been wandering with Hurricane and Meteora around the city, the latter of which had been hopping around eagerly to see the sights. “I’ve never been to a place like this!” exclaimed Meteora. “There’s just so much to do, so much to see! Oh, I know, we should go to the Equestrian Museum of Musical History, and I heard that the park here has a garden second only to the palace! Or we could-” Meteora’s babbling was cut off as her brother’s hoof was unceremoniously stuffed into her mouth.
“I swear, I can’t take you anywhere,” sighed Hurricane, an undercurrent of resignation in his voice. “This is why we can’t have nice things. ‘Sides, we should leave it up to Miss Trixie here. It’s her show, after all.”
“All right...” replied Meteora, her ears drooping slightly.
Trixie put a hoof to her chin thoughtfully for a moment. “Well, to be perfectly honest, it’s about time we got busy setting up the stage for later. Since we cannot get Trixie’s wagon inside the building, preparations must be made for the effects that are normally stored within it.” Trixie paused for a moment, smiling softly as Meteora’s gaze fell to the ground in disappointment. “If Trixie recalls, however, we will have a few hours after the show with which we can see the wonders of Hoofington.” Meteora beamed and practically leapt onto Trixie with a delighted squeak. Trixie simply laughed, unable to bring herself to mention how much substance the various tourist traps lacked.
Hurricane rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind her, Trixie. Manehattan was more business than pleasure when we grew up, so we didn’t really have many things like this city does, and she’s always been a child at heart.”
Trixie nodded. “Trixie can understand that, though Trixie shall always be a Canterlot girl at heart. Being so close to the Princesses brings in plenty of tourist traffic, so Trixie has always been accustomed to places such as this. In any case, it is high time that we got to work on Trixie’s show.”
Twilight Sparkle stared at the polished marble floor of her mentor’s floor dejectedly. “I just don’t know what I did wrong. I tried to be friendly, I even salvaged her things from the wreckage of her old cart, and she just...” Twilight paused a moment to sniffle. “She just blew me off. She told me to go to Tartarus. I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?”
Celestia stretched a comforting wing over her poor, naive, socially inexperienced student. Rejection was a lesson that she knew would come eventually to Twilight in her studies of friendship, and the immortal diarch was more than prepared to help her student through it personally, lest she risk Twilight returning to the reclusive ways of her childhood again. “Let your heart be at ease, my faithful student. It seems that Trixie has gone through some pretty rough times, and may need some time to heal. It wasn’t anything you did wrong. Despite the best efforts of myself and my sister, some ponies live to see their dreams crushed and their spirits sorely tested in the face of poverty. Unfortunately, not all ponies know of the government’s temporary work programs, or, perhaps in Trixie’s case, her pride simply refused help from another. There will be times that the magic of friendship isn’t enough to pierce through the defenses around another pony’s heart, and at these times, the most important thing is to not let the sting of any perceived failure poison your own heart.”
Twilight sighed, her ears drooping downward. “I know, Princess... I just can’t help but feel like I screwed it up somehow. I couldn’t let anyone get hurt by the Ursa, but I didn’t want to destroy Trixie’s career like that... Even the Foal Free Press was taking shots at her afterward.”
Celestia smiled sadly at her student. “You did the right thing by protecting your home and those around you. One of the harsh realities of life is that things beyond our control happen sometimes, and at those times, what matters is how we proceed forward, not how we acted in the past. You said that you left Trixie an offer to stop by Ponyville if she ever changed her mind. Perhaps one day she will act upon that offer, and at that point, you should be ready to help her in her healing journey. Perhaps more than any physical injury, it hurts most for a pony’s pride to become wounded, and I bet that right now Trixie is struggling to figure out what lies intact beneath her shattered ego. The time will come when she will need friends of her own to lend strength to her as she figures out who she really is beneath the performance. The most you can do is be there for her if she comes to you. If she doesn’t, do not blame yourself.”
Twilight nodded, wiping her eyes. “Thanks, Princess. I don’t know where I’d be without you... I probably better catch my train soon though, if I want to get back to Ponyville tonight.”
Celestia and Twilight exchanged hugs. “I know exactly where I’d be without ponies like you, Twilight,” muttered Celestia quietly to herself as the door shut behind her student. As Celestia turned back to the endless stacks of paperwork that seemed to haunt her more and more in the past few hundred years, she was startled out of her work by another knock on the door. “Come in,” she said wearily, not letting her annoyance at getting her work interrupted slip into her voice. The disruption was one of the Night Guards that she had assigned to helping her student find Trixie.
The Night Guard bowed professionally before speaking. “Your Majesty, I have additional information regarding Trixie Lulamoon.”
Celestia’s brow furrowed. “What more information could we need? My student has already met and spoken with her.”
“Well,” began the Night Guard, shifting uncomfortably, “something seemed amiss about the amount of wealth that she has recently come into possession of, so my partner did some digging. She found out that Trixie has recently been employed by a pony by the name of Grayscale. He’s been elusive thus far, but we’ve confirmed his cutie mark as being the missing former head of Undercover Operations.”
Celestia stared at the floor, deep in thought, for several moments. “Leave him be. The fault rests only with myself that he left. Mark him as pardoned for his desertion in my files, and let him live as he is. I cannot pray for forgiveness, but perhaps the best justice I can give him is an escape from the mistakes of an old mare. Thank you for the information, Lieutenant. If you would please, leave me be. I think I need some time to rest.”
“As you wish, your Majesty.” The Night Guard wore a concerned expression, but said nothing else before departing.
Trixie and Meteora were in high spirits when the performance ended, and even Hurricane seemed almost ready to crack a smile here and there as the trio’s conversation shifted from topic to topic. “So, I heard, somepony in Chicacolt invented a carriage that can move by itself!” exclaimed Meteora.
Trixie snorted. “Preposterous. No come-to-life spell can last that long.”
Meteora nodded rapidly in confirmation. “I’m serious. Somepony figured out how to shrink those steam catalysts that are enchanted for factories and stuck it in a carriage. I bet that-”
Meteora stopped suddenly as Hurricane tapped her shoulder. “Don’t look now, but we’re being followed. Act naturally.”
Shortly after they rounded the corner into the alley where Trixie’s wagon was parked, two stallions appeared. One of them was a pegasus, who appeared to be in the process of affixing two bladed metal harnesses to his wings. The other was a unicorn, who was casually loading a bolt into a crossbow that had a spiked lath. The unicorn was the first to speak. “Oh, we were told you’d be alone, Miss Trixie. Not like it’ll matter in about a minute or so.”
Trixie’s facial expression turned to panic as the three friends slowly retreated toward the wagon. “W-what do you want with Trixie?”
The pegasus laughed, responding with a thick country drawl. “Awww, it ain’t nothin’ personal, Miss Trixie, we just need to send your pal Grayscale a little reminder about his place in the world. The boss pony wants the head of his little rising star to get the message across, along with a few ponies tomorrow for good measure. Hope you don’t take it too personal, business is business. Now, why don’t y’all hold still and we’ll make it quick and painful?”
Hurricane was the first to move, bucking a nearby trash can at the unicorn, who flinched as he was firing the crossbow, causing the shot to go wild. Trixie screamed and bolted for the wagon. Meteora was following closely behind Hurricane as he charged the two assailants, his expression grim as he ducked under the bladed wing of the pegasus and tackled the unicorn, who was was trying to reload. The two rolled across the cobblestones, slamming into the nearby wall as they wrestled. Close by, Meteora was bobbing between swings of the pegasus’ blades, occasionally slipping a jab in where she could, to little effect against her bulkier opponent.
Trixie watched on with mute horror as her mind went blank, unable to tear her eyes away from the fight in front of her. She was barely aware that her name was being called, like an echo gradually increasing in volume until she was finally startled out of her shock by Hurricane. “Trixie! Trixie! Celestia damnit, we could use a little help!”
“I-I...” Trixie stammered as she saw Hurricane’s opponent begin to take the upper hand.
“The mirror, Trixie! Remember the mirror!” Meteora called out, still more than occupied with her own attacker.
Finally spurred into action, Trixie tilted the mirror with her magic, reaching out to the first weapon she saw as the compartment opened. Trixie hesitated as she hefted the crossbow. “Trixie, hurry up please! Any second now!” Hurricane had been pinned and was barely keeping the unicorn from shoving the spikes attached to the crossbow into his throat.
Trixie began to hyperventilate, seizing up for several seconds. “Celestia help me,” she whimpered, and finally pulled the trigger. A sickening thud later, and the unicorn slumped to the ground, his breath rattling as he weakly tried to extract the bolt from his throat. After a few more moments of futile struggle and a gurgling cough, Hurricane finally tossed the corpse to the side and moved to help Meteora. Time seemed to stand still for Trixie as she stared blankly ahead at the body in front of her, and she slumped to the ground as if it had been her hit by the bolt.
“Trixie!” Meteora frowned as she tried to shake Trixie out of her enraptured state. “Trixie! Come on! We won, but we gotta get out of here. They know about the raid tomorrow. Trixie! Trixie...” At that point, Trixie couldn’t hear anything over the rushing in her ears and the churning of her stomach. Without further ceremony, Trixie surrendered to the darkness clawing at her vision.