Deep breath. Now or never.
The first thing I felt was a harsh touch of the curtain sliding down my back. It was unpleasant, but I had been hardened enough by words coarser than any fabric to care about such inconveniences. I used to handle criticism by turning a deaf ear to the neighsayers, up to becoming a thick-skinned individual who only recently got to changing her ways. You could say that my latest misadventure left me with a certain spiritual enlightenment, a truth as bright as the blinding beam in which I now stood.
A pitiful buzz coming from the single lit spotlight reminded me of the time I spent as the traveling entertainer, a mare who had burnt out like the lamp’s bulb soon would. Today I was ready to leave her behind and take my first step towards greater future.
The echo of hooves walking a wooden stage resounded throughout the near-empty theater.
“Please state your name for the record.”
“Beatrix Lulamoon.”
The stallion known as Stage Craft nodded at a cute, saffron mare sitting to his right. She took out a fresh sheet of paper and scribbled down my name, the name of yet another wannabe starlet who showed up for the audition today. She whispered something behind Stage Craft’s back to the third and final member of the audience, another stallion who seemed only mildly astir by my arrival. He greeted me with a judging glare, then got back to writing all over his copy of the script like his life depended on it, something you’d expect from the director of the play.
Stage Craft hushed his colleague.
“Miss Lulamoon, we’re all jolly happy that you’re interested in The Kingdom of Two,” he said with an accent betraying his Trottinghamian roots. “As you probably already know, we’ll be introducing some novelties to make the play more accessible to a modern viewer. Since the final version”—he took a desperate glance to his left—“is not entirely ready yet, these try-outs follow the original writing. Now, is there any role in particular you’d fancy to audition for?”
“I’ve been thinking about Margaret, actually.”
“Aha! The mare of poor choices, as she’s often described. Quite a tragic character, isn’t she?” he said, turning to the director who first growled in response, but then leafed through the pages and pointed at a proper section to the one who dared to disturb him. “Would you kindly open the script on page twelve? Act one, scene four. You may begin when ready.”
I took a battered copy of the script from a nearby stand and skimmed over the lines. The wall of text going for the rest of the page would be otherwise discouraging, but monologues had always been the strongest part of my act. I chuckled inside, reluctant to admit that I had something in common with characters of poor choices.
The Kingdom of Two, act one, scene four. A garden at midnight. Enter MARGARET.
“Lucky are those who can sleep at night! Their souls know no trouble, nor they know fright!”
Stupid! That’s way too loud for a confined space like that. You’re not performing in the fresh air, and the acoustics inside are far from what you’re used to. Far from being perfect, or even acceptable by some standards as well. Doesn’t matter. Compensate. You want to be audible, not uproarious.
“Yet the night’s peaceful embrace denies me, forbids from reaching that state of bliss. Why is that? Are my mind’s troubles not shared by many in this depraved city alone, and by even greater throngs across the Kingdom’s supposed glory as well? Why, of all, is me who is cursed with that state of unrest?”
Now that’s better. With your vocal chords taken care of you should start adding some movement to the scene. The script doesn’t mention anything about what Margaret does in her garden, true, but isn’t walking in circles a popular choice for the troubled ones? Beware of making actual circles, though. It would only lessen the impact and bury your chances had you accidentally turned your back to the audience. Good thing you’ve perfected your stage walk long ago.
“’Tis not a matter of mind, perchance, but my heart alone? Nicolai and Cassius alike desire my beauty—proven time and again—yet I fear they love their Kingdom more. One’s destined to rule, yet the King withholds. If he, in his apparent wisdom cannot act, then what of me, a poor mare in the midst? Am I to become a wife by the side of one in this kingdom of two?”
What a story of life. Focus! There’s some character exposition you need to deliver.
“I care not for jewels, nor crowns, nor gold in their vault. Love—is what I call for, demand, a feeling to live for. Love that binds. Love that unites. Love that ascends. One of them can grant me that, I want to believe, but the same one needs to recant the royalty to have me. Let it be known, that I’d rather live a life of a beggar who knows love, than that of a wealthy and of anguished heart.”
Congratulations, you’ve now reached the edge of the illuminated zone, which is yet another trap for rookie actors. Stop. Never leave the spotlight! Without a good reason, that is. Hoof to the side, arc, then a quick twist. Too bad you don’t have your infamous cloak on you, it would make a fine swoosh. Then again, you wanted to leave that persona behind, didn’t you?
“The King’s indecision is the root of my woe! Had he declared his heir I would know how to act, and I’d be sleeping at peace in place of enduring my heart’s perplexities. Surely he’d chosen already and written it down in case of misfortune, yet he refuses to share, locking the future in a strongbox with no key. My future! He only sits on his throne, walks not to threats the city lives in. Had they come to his chambers, he’d act.”
Halt. Deadpan like you’ve realized something elementary. Breathe out with a smile to indicate relief.
“Lucky is me who can’t sleep at night! My soul’s troubles gone, eased up is my fright!”
Alright! That went out much better than the opening line, at least vocal-wise. There will be a similar third line by the end of the scene, which concludes the first act with Margaret’s fateful decision. What’s interesting about them is that each has to be delivered differently. Following the playwright’s intent, the first should bring to mind a heavy sigh of sleepless desperation, while the second is a peaceful calming of emotions, a state of comfort in which the character finds herself. The upcoming third one is by far the most important, because that’s where Margaret’s dreams about love, future, and independence converge into a single thought.
A dream of treason.
“The solution is clear to me now, like the sky’s blue by clouds unstirred. The King is to blame for my misery, and that of his heirs. Have I not comforted my dear Nicolai when he whispered about what he really thinks about his father’s way of ruling? Have I not heard from my beloved Cassius that the court also notices the Kingdom’s corruption, and that he’d manage to right the wrong? Have I not come here to stand between choices solely because the King refuses to act?”
Ah, the rhetorical questions. Aren’t they a lovely way of building tension while also making a point?
Speaking of points, now comes the one of no return for Margaret. According to the script, this is when she gets so engrossed in her vision it becomes her obsession from which she never recovers, not even when she joins the royalty later on. A tragic character indeed, but that’s what you get for forging a pact with dark forces and trading your sanity for power. Now, how does one play such a hopeless, about-to-go-nuts lunatic? They say the best acting comes from your own experience, but when was the last time you—oh.
Of course.
Recall the moment you’ve put on the Alicorn Amulet for the first time. Return to your own moment of weakness, your fall of decency. Much like Margaret thinks the King is her enemy, you also blamed somepony for what happened to you. It was wrong and unjust, but embracing that memory can only help you now. How did you feel back then? Strangely empowered? Let’s have that prideful grin for a moment. Not too wide, though, you don’t want to scare the audience.
“I say to all: this ends now! No longer shall the good citizens chafe under the yoke of a lawless monarch! No longer shall his good sons be slaves to his maddened judgment! No longer shall good ones of my kind be forced to cry at nights!”
Oh, and a serious stare! Never forget that your face is an actor by itself! Show them true Margaret!
“Yes! The Fortune Teller foretold me returning, and she was not wrong in her auguries. I shall go see her, while the night’s still calm and peaceful. She promised the means to act if I’d find the courage, and the courage I lack not. For my dear Nicolai. For my beloved Cassius. For myself!”
Illuminated by a dozen spotlights gazing upon me, I took a sharp turn towards the audience. It no longer consisted of three ponies, but more like three hundred, not counting those watching the play from the numerous balconies and loges. The theater was packed with mares in beautiful evening attires, their necks and ears adorned with priceless jewelry their husbands gifted them. The stallions looked no worse wearing elegant tuxedos and all sorts of tasteful bow ties, according to what the local gurus declared fashionable this season.
Young and old, they had all come to see The Kingdom of Two, and to see me, Beatrix Lulamoon as Margaret in my masterfully tailored costume. My steps were light, and my dress trailed the stage like it had no weight. I looked upon my admirers, knowing that I have just brought them to the absolute edge of their seat. Each and every one of them yearned for my dramatic declaration of the future, for strong words which would strike uneasiness into their hearts. I took a deep breath. The message was meant to be short, but evocative nonetheless.
“Lucky’s the King still sleeping at night! His soul troubles not, but it soon shall know fright!”
The theater exploded with a thundering round of applause. “We love you, Beatrix!” The high societal ponies stood up cheering, shouting, some throwing roses to my hooves. I was about to pick one when somepony approached and handed me an entire bouquet thereof. I smiled, hearing that the chanting of my name rose to a deafening clamor. “Beatrix, Beatrix!” My heart was racing to match the great joy which washed over me from head to hoof, for I was living my dream, here and now, surrounded by throngs of my fans. I had finally become the Great and Powerful pony I always aspired to be!
Then it all went silent.
“Exeunt Margaret,” I said. “End of scene four.”
The three ponies whispered among themselves. It was impossible to discern whether they enjoyed my act or not, because their heads produced equally as many nods of approval as they did with shakes of the opposite. Could it be all? Were they already judging me after a single scene? I couldn’t help but wonder. I felt pretty confident about myself, but then again I had been proven wrong in the past.
Stage Craft straightened up.
“Thank you, Miss Beatrix, for your performance,” he said. “Personally I’m chuffed to bits about it, but you’re going to have to wait a bit longer for our final verdict. We’ll be posting the results in an hour or so, provided the remaining auditions go well. Once again, thank you for your interest in our play. That would be all!”
I sent the script back to the stand. “Thank you for your time, sirs. Madam.” When I was taking a bow I reached to the side as though I was holding the edge of my cloak. Old habits never die! For a moment I even considered throwing down a smoke bomb to make my leave more memorable, but in the end I dropped the idea. I had to act seriously if I wanted to be treated as such.
I passed along a queue of ponies rehearsing for their dream roles. There’s no way the casting will be done in an hour, even if the director wanted to hear only a short passage from each of the many soon-to-be disappointed auditionees. They didn’t look like competition to me, a confident mare amongst jittering fillies and colts convinced the curtain will swallow them the moment they put a hoof on the stage. Most of them had no former stage experience, something I could tell from a mile away. Take this particular one, for example. He looked like he only came here to satisfy his mother’s wish. The said mother stood by his side, naturally, fixing his mane and making sure he doesn’t shy and bolt back to his needlework and pure silk pajamas or what other nonsense. Poor kid.
Outside, the ever-busy streets of Canterlot were soaked in the afternoon sunlight as the ponies attended to their daily routines. A group of students with green scarves wrapped around their necks dashed by, debating where to go for a snack, which my stomach declared a good idea. With no particular place to go, I headed up the street, taking one more glance at the spot I hoped to visit more often in the weeks to come.
They say the walls of the Backstage had a soul, whatever that means. It was a small theater owning its name to its location away from the Promenade, far from the pulsating artery of the city where wealth spoke louder than words. That, along with its egalitarian status made it a somewhat less important point of interest, preferred by theater enthusiasts rather than crowds of high societal ponies pretending to be on the cutting edge with current releases, as long as the Canterlot Elite deemed them worthwhile. In this city, their word was a law to obey.
The ponies forming the Elite also shunned the Backstage, in fear of being associated with those painfully nameless artists, those eccentric nonconformists, not to say deviants, who only mattered once they made it big. The moment they did, however, they would no longer perform at the Backstage, but at the very source of the city’s theatrical growth instead. That’s where you could find the most affluent citizens of Canterlot every Saturday evening, and that’s where my lazy trot took me.
I stopped, far from affluent myself, lost in admiration of the massive building ahead.
There stood the Tetrahedron Theater, the oldest and most acknowledged stage of Equestria. When the now famous places like Bridleway or Les Célestians far in Prance struggled to sell out their first shows, the Tetrahedron was already providing Canterlotians with amazing stories enacted by legendary performers who paved the way for the modern theater, like Cherry Cushion, Lucy Buckstone, or Drinkwater Meadows to name but a few. Love and hate entwined throughout every act, tears of joy and those of grief were shed in between the scenes, bursts of laughter resounded in the audience all to leave the ponies with an experience they would never forget.
A group of tourists wearing white and gold passed by me. They were likely some rich fellows from Saddle Arabia who just bought out an entire VIP loge for their friends and acquaintances, but I paid little attention, still mesmerized by the promise of fame Tetrahedron brought to every aspiring actor and actress. Nowadays there was no way the average pony in the street could get the tickets for a new play or an opera once it landed, while taking part in one was impossible if you hadn’t been already heard of and regarded in, say, the Griffin Kingdoms or one of the changeling Hives.
One day I’ll hit this stage. It’s about time the ponies from every corner of Equestria started coming to see me, instead of me traveling to them with my amazing shows. The role in The Kingdom of Two is just the beginning. They will know there’s more to me than just the Great and Powerful Trixie and her tricks. They will know me as the prime actress of Canterlot, a true star I am destined to become. Now that’s a dream worth pursuing!
“It’s something, isn’t it?”
Noticing three shadows creeping up on me, I turned to the presumed tourists. I intended to firmly inform them that in Equestria wealth does not buy the right to sneak up on others and break them out of their reverie, but as I faced them I realized they were very much locals, and their rich demeanor was more than just a fashion statement. The two pegasi wore their aureate plates and webbed helmets as the symbols of dedication, clear in the way they eyed me. I was willing to bet they were assessing not if, but what kind of threat I posed to them and the alicorn they stood by. In her case, the golden regalia and her other-worldly features were a result of nature's generosity and the irreplaceable part she had to play in the theater of life.
Oh dear.
All warmth ebbed away from my face as I cowered in Princess Celestia’s shadow.
“Your Highness! I-I’m probably in your way, sorry for that. Visiting Tetrahedron, are you? Doing royal business of great importance, I presume? Sorry!”
“Actually I just left. Were you so enraptured by the façade you did not notice me?”
“Yes! I mean: no! It’s just—I didn’t mean to disrespect you, Your Highness!”
“And disrespect you have done me not,” Celestia replied. “How are you this lovely afternoon, Trixie? Sun’s not too bright for you, I hope?”
I detached myself from the ground, failing to make any sense out of her casual attitude, and dared to look up. I wasn’t seeing things. Princess Celestia was smiling at me for some undisclosed reason, and although I respected her greatly I couldn’t shake off the feeling she was here to make sure of my swift and immediate incarceration. All in all, I had indeed committed a crime of making myself a ruling body of Ponyville once, but I was never charged with it. Alas, my time had come!
“You—you know my name?”
“Of course I do. I may be old, but I rarely forget the ponies I share a conversation with. Even more, I never forget those with whom I partake in a quest for the safety of the land,” she said. “The dragon we faced was quite a furry one, but he was a danger nonetheless, don’t you agree?”
I tried to keep my muzzle in order, but it was to no avail once confusion took over it. “Huh? Furry danger? What are you—oh! Oh, you have no idea how relieved I am!”
“What do you mean?”
“See, Your Highness, as a filly I was pretty imaginative, and being the only child I often made myself companions to play with. I had fun with them even if they weren’t exactly real, but sometimes my imagination would get me into trouble, especially when I tried to put the blame on my friends for something I did. Somehow, my parents always knew, safe for one time they didn’t.” I straightened up and locked Celestia’s stare with my own. “All my life I wondered if I really met you that day, or if it was just my imagination acting up. All my life I believed.”
“We have met indeed, I assure you,” Celestia replied. “Walk with me, please. I remember making my way back from the San Palomino when I saw a windmill and a lovely orchard below. I figured that would be a good place to rest my wings for a while, and then I met you, on the top of that hill.”
“That Mountain, actually, but it’s Angel’s Touch Peak now anyway. I renamed it in your honor a day or two later, though I still feel pretty embarrassed for taking somepony as recognizable as you for a breezie tale.”
“Don’t be. It was actually quite flattering!” she said. ”What brings you to Canterlot, Trixie?”
“An audition. The Kingdom of Two is getting revived at the Backstage, and I’ve read in The Canterlot Sun that they are assembling the cast from scratch. Do you know the plot, Princess? No? Well, it’s a story of two brothers, heirs to the throne in a pretty ill-ruled fictional kingdom. Nothing like Equestria, of course. They wait for the King’s official decision on who will be the next ruler, but in truth they’d rather rule together, free of their father’s paranoid control. By the way, have I mentioned that life in Equestria is so much better?”
Celestia sighed. “If only the City Council possessed a share of your suaveness.”
“There’s that girl I auditioned for, Margaret. She isn’t fond of the King either, and intends to take the matters of the kingdom in her own hooves. She visits a mysterious Fortune Teller who provides her with a solution, if you know what I mean.”
“A tale about regicide,” Celestia replied, seemingly amused. “How delightful. I would expect a dramatic twist to lurk somewhere in between the lines?”
“Well, I don’t want to spoil it for you, but let’s say that Margaret is much more complex in her motivations than she appears,” I said then shrugged. “The Kingdom of Two may not be as big as The Two Gentlecolts of Vanhoover or Corianderus, but it’s a fine tragedy overall. I figured I’d give it a go and, well, here I am!”
Celestia, her entourage, and I stopped as we reached the Promenade. The Royal Castle towered at the end of the two-storey corridor of exclusive cafés, restaurants, and boutiques, its beaming towers standing against the dark slopes of the Canterlot Mountain.
“I think this is a wonderful opportunity, and I am glad you intend to seize it,” Celestia said. “Say, I do have some time before I will be returning to my duties, and I see the clock calling for an afternoon tea. Perhaps you would like to keep me company?”
My legs felt like jelly. First a random encounter followed by a surprisingly undemanding chitchat, and now a tea invite? Isn’t that too much for one day?
“I hate to be a bother to you! I mean, not that I wouldn’t love to, of course, and I am grateful for your offer, but I don’t think you should—that is, don’t let me distract you in your royal responsibilities!”
“Checking on the wellness of my subjects is very much amongst those responsibilities, mind you,” Celestia said, turning to one of her guards. “Lieutenant, Miss Lulamoon and I are heading to the Red Cuckoo. Could you please advise them on our arrival? A lovely young mare going by the name of Victory Sash will gladly take care of further arrangements.”
“B-but the protocol—”
“Before you tell me that the protocol requires you to stand by my side at all times, I’ll let you know that this fine mare here stood against a dragon once, and I was there to witness it. The Battle of the Glade was one of the most fiercest encounters in my life, and if it wasn’t for her bravery we would not be standing here quoting the regulations. With her protection, and by your permission, I intend to be fine for those couple of minutes it will take us to reach the café. As long as the protocol allows that, of course.”
Though he seemed stirred at first, his initial will to protest made way for a questioning stare.
“If I may, Princess, there is a separate course at the Academy solely on the alicorn combat patterns, and you are the most exemplified one. I’m convinced I know all your encounters of the last century, but I have never heard about the one you mentioned. What was the defended objective during this Battle of the Glade?”
“A cherry orchard.”
“An orchard?”
“It was a big orchard.”
“A big… orchard?” he replied, quick to regain his professional composure under the waiting gaze of his sovereign. “Red Cuckoo Café. Secure a table for two. Right away, Princess!”
He launched to the skies, leaving us under the watchful eye of the other guard. From the Promenade we turned into Ruby Street, one of several named after the vast gemstone deposits hidden inside the mountain. Although the famous mines had been decommissioned ages ago, these streets served as a reminder that Canterlot rose to its glory thanks to the tenacity—also known as greed—of the Unicorn Tribe. That naming convention was also one of the reasons the city was sometimes called the Jewel of Equestria.
I shook my head. I only knew that particular history tidbit because I once spent way too much time with a rock-obsessed mare. She also told me that if the mines hadn’t been shut down in time, the slope would lose its integrity and three quarters of Canterlot would collapse with a terrible outcome for the citizens. I still remember Maud’s bland tone which made the already scary prospect into a truly terrifying one.
We arrived at the Red Cuckoo as predicted, much to the waiting guard’s relief. He showed us under a red-brick archway, into a passage which led through the ground floor of a building housing the café. The windows had a reddish silhouette of the cuckoo painted on them, each in different pose but all with its feathers slightly blurred after a seemingly lazy swing of a brush. The café was packed with ponies, mostly young ones, but we didn’t go inside. The guard lead us deeper into the passage which opened to a wide, roofless patio equipped with several low tables and a stack of red and black sitting cushions by the entrance.
While we leafed through the menu, an amber mare approach our table. She was wearing a uniform in the colors of the café and had a small, bronzed token with an engraved cuckoo pinned to her chest. The name on her badge properly introduced her as Vicky—short for Victory Sash, I assumed—but nothing in her appearance prepared me for the infectious enthusiasm with which she greeted us.
“Welcome to the Red Cuckoo, a forge of dreams and passions for everypony!” she exclaimed. “We’re pleased to have you again, Princess. May I take your order?”
“Feel free to choose whatever you desire, Trixie, on me. Consider it a refund for all those cherries of which I’ve robbed you back then. I trust Miss Sash already knows my choices?”
“I do indeed! One black tea with hints of muscatel and wildflower honey, a crispy croissant with chocolate filling to go with it, and a takeaway bag of cream cupcakes for your valiant protectors who, quote, are currently on duty and will not step down for a snack, end quote,” she recited. “How about you, madam?”
I skimmed through the menu once more. Finding moderate prices was quite a pleasant surprise in Canterlot, and it seemed they had a really enticing triple-layered dessert even I could afford without getting broke, but I’ve decided to match Celestia’s choice and go for the middle of the offer.
“I’ll have a black pine cone tea, and a croissant as well. Thank you.”
Coming back with our orders didn’t take Vicky long, for which I silently praised her in my thoughts. Celestia just finished consulting her schedule with the guards, while I was desperately looking for something—anything—to talk about with my esteemed benefactor. I didn’t know any one thing about politics, foreign affairs, or other issued which concerned the royalty. Nor was I educated enough to discuss philosophical matters or scientific breakthroughs. Even my interest in magic was limited to simple illusions and minor conjurations, and those intricate arcane theorems were a mystery to me. In short, I had been granted an audience, but had nothing smart to say.
Lucky for me, Celestia was all in for taking the lead in the conversation.
“Is that your first time in Canterlot?”
“Not at all, Your Highness. When I was twelve I enrolled your School for Gifted Unicorns. I remember being really impressed by all those tall spires back then, and I’ve been back several times since. It’s good to see it still standing in good shape.”
“Did you enjoy your time as a student here?”
Hey, maybe it won't be that awkward. I can surely talk about myself!
“It was fun while it lasted,” I replied. “I barely made it to the second year. The teachers all agreed that I was paying too much attention to my own devices than to what was important to pass the classes. On top of that, I kept asking what-if questions during Mrs. Gisela’s classes, and you know how much historians like her enjoy those. More often than not I would add fictional characters or events to my essays to make them, I don’t know, more interesting, perhaps?” I said. “The way something originally happened was never enough for me, and because of that I dropped out sometime during spring break.”
“What happened then?”
“I came back home to help my parents at the orchard. When I was sixteen I decided that I want to travel, to see faraway places and learn about the world by experiencing it, not just reading about it. I wanted to witness everything I have imagined as a filly, so I packed a couple of thing on my family’s wagon and began my journey. From Las Pegasus to Manehattan, from Baltimare to Vanhoover, I’ve been everywhere. Sometimes by hoof, sometimes by loading my wagon on a train or an airship to cover more distance.”
Celestia took a sip, silently nodding at me to continue. Why was she considering the story of my life interesting was beyond me. Perhaps she was spending so much time at the castle attending to her royal duties that she seldom had time to talk about mundane things.
“I’ve seen places and met ponies from all around Equestria. Eventually I started shaping those experiences into slightly altered stories which I later shared with those willing to trade a handful of bits for them. For example, my fireworks once scared away a bear from a bee yard near Hoofington, so I fashioned a tale about how I vanquished a dreaded ursa major,” I said, smiling at the memory of when I told it for the first time. “Colts and fillies loved my stories, so I started enriching them with various requisites and magic. Sometimes it was all smoke and mirrors, but the crowd couldn’t tell it from real magic anyway. In time I made quite a name for myself in the show business.”
“Would that be The Great and Powerful Trixie? Twilight Sparkle once mentioned a traveling magician who performed in Ponyville, but I never thought it was you.”
I sighed. I was never going to live that one down, was I?
“Ponyville, right. I suppose Princess Twilight told you all about what happened there as well?”
“She did,” Celestia said, “but I would like to hear your side of the story.”
Huh. Maybe I won't be getting incarcerated after all. I wanted for this theater thing to work, I tried really, really hard not to blow it up, but they wouldn't allow a convict to join the cast, would they?
“Then you’re the first one to have ever requested it!” I replied. “I lost everything that night. My reputation, my wagon, will to perform. My grand adventure and career were pretty much over, but I didn’t want to live the rest of my days as a cherry picker because I believed there was a greater future for me,” I said, putting my cup away because I could no longer hold it straight. “That’s when I remembered what a certain angel once told me: that my imagination is a gift, and that I should not abandon it. I imagined—I saw my misfortune as a momentary setback on my path to greatness, all thanks to your words. But, as it later turned out, my attitude lead me onto a dark and dangerous path.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t that—”
“With all due respect, Your Highness, if Princess Twilight was honest in her relation, then you know that it was pretty bad.”
I ate half of my croissant in one bite. Licking the chocolate filling off my lips wasn’t elegant, but storytelling always made me hungry. It occurred to me that maybe I shouldn’t share intimate details of my past with somepony I’ve met twice in my life so far, but at the same time she was willing to listen unlike those who had ostracized me between my two and only visits to Ponyville. I flushed the rests of the croissant with my tea, already cooled from standing on fresh air.
“They have an official term for what happened with me, you know,” I said. “Delusions of grandeur. I desired fame and acclamation, and blamed Ponyville for not getting just that. I was driven by an ill-conceived urge for vengeance. I got my hooves on that Alicorn Amulet and caused much pain along the way, all because I saw it differently. I saw it as justice. But I was wrong.”
We sat in silence, leaving the steaming cups and bites of croissants undisturbed. Celestia didn’t seem moved by my words, but she pondered them for a good while, calm and collected as she appeared. Myself, I was trembling. Who’d have thought that after so much time something from the past can still cause such emotions?
Celestia was first to speak.
“When we first met I did not think my words would bear such consequences. It seems they have shaped your life in ways you wouldn’t want it to unfold.”
“No, Your Highness, you misunderstood!” I quickly replied, realizing that I have probably put too much drama into my tale, as usual. “I may not be happy about every single thing that happened in my life, but I’m grateful for them all, even those unlucky ones. The way I see it, if I hadn’t failed your school I would never start traveling, telling stories, exploring all the beautiful places Equestria has to offer! And all those bad incidents? Most of the time I was just too proud to admit I was wrong in how I followed my dreams, that's all.”
“My sister and I once learned that dreams and delusions are separated by a thin line, and that one’s pride is what blurs it,” Celestia said, her stare absent until she smiled at me. “You’ve come a long way from that orchard, I see. You have learned your lesson and drawn conclusions, and of that I couldn’t be more proud. Both as the one responsible for the fate of my little ponies, and as someone I hope you’ll consider a friend despite my error.”
Her error? A friend? I quickly riffled through the pages of my mental dictionary to ascertain myself. A friend was a pony with whom one had a bond of mutual affection, typically one exclusive of family relations. In my younger years I made a couple of friends, or made them up to be more precise. It’s not like I was all alone later on, because I had fans, admirers, supporters, a couple of doubters and haters, but friends? They didn’t feel necessary for me to accomplish my goals. I was a loner and never stayed in one place for too long to establish a relation with somepony.
Now the Princess of Equestria was not only apologizing to me, an irrelevant pony—at least compared to her—but was also asking for my friendship? I did not deserve that, not in the slightest. I wasn’t amicable enough to be considered a good friend material. At least no one has ever made me feel that way.
Boy, these little crumbs surely are interesting when you don’t know what to say!
“However, I still feel partly responsible for your misfortune, and I would like to make it up to you somehow. While I cannot bring back the opportunities you’ve missed in the past, perhaps your future holds something I could be a part of?”
I already knew what I wanted to ask for. Would she consider my request silly? Perhaps downright insulting? It wasn’t anything that required help from the Princess of Equestria after all. A friend, however, I could use right now.
I looked at Celestia.
“There is one thing.”
* * *
The foyer was less crowded than I had expected.
To my left, the concerned mother who seemed crushed that her wonderful son Cherry Drum did not get the role which, in truth, she wanted more than him. She only stopped her litany of lamentations once she noticed Princess Celestia walking by. She straightened up, fixed the pheasant’s feather of her ginormous hat, and kept the appearances of a typical high societal pony of Canterlot who lived only to impress others and throw out exquisite candle-light suppers. On the other side of the room, a stallion with mane like bonfire craved for the attention of airheaded mares giggling stupidly at cheap compliments he was handing out like candies on Nightmare Night. Finally, a pair of crystal pony fillies in their teens passed by me, telling each other that although they, like, didn’t get the role they will totally try the next time around because theater has always been their passion and all.
Celestia and I approached a pin board with a single sheet of paper entitled The Kingdom of Two Cast, with me staying notably behind since my legs were finally giving up after all the stress they had to carry throughout the day. I shambled forward, but didn’t dare to look at the pin board myself.
“Are you alright?” Celestia asked. “You look rather pale.”
“It’s a new diet, thank you for noticing,” I blurted. “I barely know who I am anymore. What does it say?”
“Give me a second.” Celestia read the results. “I’m sorry, Trixie. You won’t be playing Margaret.”
I sat down with all of my motivation drained. I felt like a porcelain figurine thrown at a concrete wall by a Wonderbolt performing a sonic rainboom. Was it all for nothing? I should have known better than to think that a pony talented in magic tricks, storytelling, and with stage experience could become an actress all of a sudden. There were ponies out there who had cutie marks in theatricality, they had that innate knack for acting inside them. Myself? Apparently not. I wondered if Maud’s family still needed rock farmers, at least I was good at that. Picking cherries, as well.
What a story of life.
“Oh. Well, maybe next time then…”
“Curious. I see your name next to Prince Cassius.”
My ears perked up. Say what?
“Say what again? Prince Cassius? As in the King’s son, Cassius?” I dashed to the board in search for my name. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There it was indeed: Prince Cassius – Beatrix Lulamoon. “But that’s a stallion’s role!”
“Not anymore!” said a familiar voice behind me. I turned around to see Stage Craft approaching us. “Your Highness. What I meant was, while Cassius remains a stallion in the play, we would like you to play him, if you’re interested. Elaborate staging and historically accurate sets and costumes aside, we want to freshen the theater of today. That, and director Curtain Call remembered you.”
I deadpanned. What was going on?
“He didn’t seem very excited at the audition.”
“He’s a pony of few words, but believe me when I say that he was actually quite impressed by your performance. Powerful, strong-willed acting, that’s what he said. Not enough depravity in that one for Margaret, he said. I’d take those as a compliment if I were you!”
“But it’s a stallion’s role! Did you really have too few stallions to choose from?”
Stage Craft leaned to my ear. “Too few with more than a crumpet’s worth of acting capabilities, if you get my drift. We’re lucky we’ve got some for the King or the other brother, like that real dishy unicorn from Hoofington. He’s over there, consulting the conditioners with our make-up artist, Air Brush,” he said, pointing at the flame-maned stallion. Smiling like a professional seducer, he was getting dangerously close to Air Brush’s face, the saffron mare I remembered from the audition. “Fortunately he’s not much of a physical type, so you two should handle the duel scene without much hassle.”
I turned to Celestia, the only point of sanity in this crazy world. “A stallion! My debut is a stallion, can you believe it?”
“Beats playing a tree, don’t you think?”
“Yeah! Yeah, it does!” I giggled, feeling new energy taking over me. It was really happening! “Thank you for coming here with me, Your Highness. I’ve traveled Equestria far and wide, but nowhere had I spent enough time to find someone I could talk to. Today, just like the last time, you have come to be around. It just… it means a lot to me.”
She smiled at me, smiled in that unspoken promise that everything was going to be just fine. “You are following your dreams. I say enjoy it!”
I nodded, then closed my eyes.
I let my imagination run wild, feeding my vanity with visions which I knew will eventually come true. I was standing at the end of a gold and red corridor, before massive ornamented doors leading to the stage of Tetrahedron Theater made of ridiculously pricey dark wood. It already waited for me to step through the threshold and assume the role my admirers have come to see me enact. The beautiful, soft curtain went up, revealing hundreds of ponies whose whispers subsided only to explode into a joyful clamor a moment later. The roses were coming down in dozens, and there was no end to all the compliments they were shouting. Hearing my name at their lips, I knew that I finally made it big. I had finally become the Great and Powerful pony I always aspired to be.
Among the chanting I heard the singled out voice of Stage Craft.
“Miss Lulamoon? You didn’t answer my question. Are you in?”
I opened my eyes and allowed myself to a devious smile.
“I am.”
Author's Note
Hello there! Thank you for reading my story. I am no longer writing pony fiction, but if you want to support my current creative endeavor, check out my content on Twitch! 
