Ch. 1
The show was perfect, Lulamoon thought to himself, water dripping off as he climbed from the tank. Just like they all will be perfect.
The audience was on their hooves following his escape. The death-defying trick was the finale of his act, capping off a series of stunts that nopony would've guessed the young earth pony was capable of. And indeed, most earth ponies wouldn't be able to do it. They weren't creative enough to design a performance like this.
"Thank you, thank you!" He bowed to the crowd. "Once again, I am Lulamoon the Magnificent. Have a good night!"
Not the most imaginative stage name. Just his real name and a suffix. Pretty basic, really. But that was his appeal. A basic pony, albeit one who was better than everypony else.
And with the reception his first show was getting, he was sure this fame thing was going to be so easy.
The show was perfect, Trixie thought to herself as the last illusion faded from view. Perfection was what the audience had paid good bit for, and Trixie made sure her fans got their money's worth.
But Trixie had other matters weighing on her mind. While she had followed her tour schedule in the week since she and Fluttershy had parted ways in the Griffin Kingdom, she made a slight alteration to the journey. Now whenever she visited a town her dad had performed at, she asked about his visit. About any possible... indiscretions.
Discrete or not, Lulamoon the Magnificent was memorable. And if there was one thing she'd learned from all those times he'd dragged her along with him to bars after performing, it was that drunk ponies loved to talk about the memorable things that happened to them.
Which is why she was here, at the counter of a tiny bar, sipping a smoothie the bartender had been more than happy to whip up for her.
"Lulamoon the Magnificent? Oh yeah, I remember him. Used to perform here every couple years or so."
"Trixie can remember coming here once, when Trixie was little." She said between sips. "But only the once. Are you sure he came here multiple times?"
The stallion next to her nodded enthusiastically. "Sure as shootin'! I went to every one. Say... How come you want to hear about yer dad's old shows?"
"The Great and Powerful Trixie is worried she may not know all of her relatives." It was a pretty safe move to let him in on her reasons, as he was unlikely to remember them. He was quite inebriated.
"What, like a soap opera?!" He laughed pretty hard at that, nearly falling off his chair before he was down. "Like you have a long-lost sister somewhere?! Can you even imagine?"
"Trixie can imagine a lot of things..."
The stallion wiped some tears from his eyes, calming down a bit. "Oh, I needed that. 'Long-lost sister'... The Ponyrazzi'd love that."
"So, do you remember if there was anypony who...?" Trixie prompted, trying to refocus the conversation.
"Who your dad was sweet on? No, not around here." The stallion drained the last of his drink before continuing. "Old Lulamoon never stayed around for very long, and he certainly never had a drink with anypony like you're doing now. He showed up, set up, performed, and left. I don't think Lulamoon the Magnificent thought much of this little town."
As he said it, a mare stumbled toward them. "Hey, are you guys talking 'bout Lulamoon the Magnificent?"
"Yeah we are! Sit yourself down."
"Have I got a story for you!" The mare took the seat the stallion'd pulled up. "Now I was always out of town when he came around, so I never caught a show of his here. But!" The mare paused for effect, and also to take a swig of her drink. "But! I saw him in Detrot! It was like his second show, before he got famous, and I was there."
That last bit piqued Trixie's curiosity more than anything else the mare had said. "Excuse Trixie, but did you say 'Detrot'?"
"I did, why-" The mare suddenly realized who the third party in the conversation was. "Wait, you're Trixie! Can I get your autograph?"
"Trixie's father used to bring Trixie along on tour, and would tell Trixie stories of old shows whenever things were insufficiently exciting. But he never mentioned anything about Detrot. As far as Trixie knew, he'd never performed there." As she spoke, Trixie surreptitiously signed a napkin for the mare and passed it over.
The older mare lit up when she received the signature and quickly slipped it into a nearby saddlebag, then shrugged when she caught Trixie's meaning. "I don't know what to tell you, Ms. Trixie. I definitely saw him there."
"Maybe nothing happened there that was interesting enough to tell you about." The stallion offered, feeling left out of the conversation and wanting to be included again.
Trixie doubted that was the case, judging by the kinds of things Dad had seen fit to rot her ears with. No, this was something else. Something...
She quickly settled her tab, thanked the two ponies by paying for the next three rounds, and left. She had to send a message to her agent, one telling him to suspend the current tour.
Trixie was going to Detrot.
Ch. 2
'Welcome to Detrot.'
The sign bearing that happy greeting was battered, rusted, covered with often-offensive graffiti, and generally run down.
Much like the city that stretched behind it.
Trixie had stored her wagon in one of the more reputable sheds, casting a few security spells of her own for extra insurance, and now she walked through what could charitably be described as the entertainment district. This city sure wasn't a center for the arts like Canterlot, and it most definitely wasn't friendly like Ponyville. The most she got out of her questions was a shrug or a mumbled 'I don't know'.
But fortune decided to give her a hand when she wandered into an old, decaying theater. Many cities like Detrot had at least one of these. A grand, lavishly decorated cathedral built during a golden age and now left to waste away like the city that had spawned it. Only a community effort could turn this place around, and community wasn't something the ponies of Detrot had a very strong sense of.
On one of the walls in the lobby there was a line of promotional posters advertising past acts that had headlined the theater. Some were well-known, some not so much. One, placed directly in the center, was familial.
Trixie stared at the chipped and frayed poster for some time. It was true, what the mare said. Her dad had performed here. But why had he never mentioned it to her?
"You look so much like him, you know. Probably more than you realize.
Turning, Trixie saw an older pegasus mare, about middle-age. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but was cut off by the answer.
"Yes I know who you are, Trixie." The pegasus smiled. Her voice had a slight trace of an accent, one that seemed to have faded along with the city. "Your father was... somepony who was very important to me. The second-most important pony in my life, actually, and even though he never wrote, I still kept track of him. Although, I was surprised to hear he'd had a daughter."
"You seem to know about the Great and Powerful Trixie, and Trixie's father, but Trixie doesn't know you."
"You wouldn't. I doubt your father ever mentioned Detrot to you, and I know for certain he never spoke of me." The pegasus gestured with a wing toward the manager's office. "My name is Ingenue, and if you'll let me I'll tell you how your father ruined my life."
'Welcome to Detrot.'
A happy greeting for a bustling, happy town. Or maybe Lulamoon was just in a happy mood. Emotional state aside, the Detroters took fine care of their sign.
The upcoming gig would be his biggest yet, though he was too smart to put to much stock in that fact. Being first out of two wasn't all that great a feat. But it was a start.
Dazzling the show-goers at this new theater would be exactly the kick his career needed to get off the ground. Everypony knew the burgeoning entertainment scene in Detrot would be where the next great star was discovered. Let Canterlot keep its stuffy classical music and obtuse fashions. Detrot was young, fresh, and innovative.
Detroters were helpful, as well. Following the gladly-given directions made finding the theater quite easy.
"You're Lulamoon, right?" A pegasus mare asked as he arrived at the front door. Her accent was as thick as a stage curtain, her voice smokey and low.
"Yeah, that's me." He replied. "Although I prefer Lulamoon the Magnificent. Got to build the character, if you know what I mean."
"Of course, of course. In that case welcome, Lulamoon the Magnificent, to my humble theater."
Lulamoon smiled at her exaggerated bow and flourish. Sarcastic and gorgeous, it'd be easy for anypony to like her. He returned her bow with a gentlecoltly one of his own. "Thanks for having me, my Lady." He extended a hoof.
She paused uncertainly for a second, then recovered and took it. "Miss Ingenue will suffice. I'm not entirely ladylike. Now how about I show you around?"
It is impossible to repeat perfection, but apparently it is possible top it. Lulamoon found this out when he received the second standing ovation of his career, this one even more riotous than the first.
He was offered many opportunities following the curtain's closing, but all of them were outbid by Miss Ingenue. She wanted him to be a monthly fixture at her establishment and the pay was too good for Lulamoon to say no. They both went out for drinks to celebrate a deal well-struck.
It was impressive that a mare as young as Ingenue could helm so lavish and impressive a business, and Lulamoon told her so after a few cider.
"Such is the nature of the industry we find ourselves. Sometimes the younger manticore eats the older, by virtue of being stronger and faster." She giggled. "Of course, a sizable inheritance doesn't hurt the young manticore's chances."
""You know... this bar's going to be closing soon. Why don't we take this celebration back to my hotel?"
Ingenue slowly finished the drink she'd been nursing and brushed some errant strands of her mane back. "You know, normally I'd say yes. That was half the reason I invited you to perform." She smirked. "But now I'm thinking no. If we're going to do this, we're going to do this right. So you can pick me up at my theater this Friday at seven."
Lulamoon watched her walk away.
The last few months had been the perfect mix of easy and challenging. Ingenue's dynamic personality and sharp wit made loving her an easy task, while her endurance and dexterity provided the challenge during... other activities. Though it was a challenge he was content to face.
They were a good distance from the city at the moment, in a secluded forest. Lulamoon sat leaning against a tree, watching as his marefriend preened. She hummed the tune of her favorite song from her home country, the nearby creek providing accompaniment.
She was so beautiful...
"What's Prance like? I've never been there."
Ingenue paused mid-preen to consider how to answer. "I suppose it's much like your Canterlot."
"What do you mean?"
She finished, folded her wings, and sat next to him. "Prance is lovely to look at, especially Prarie, where I grew up. But inside, it's ugly."
"Ugly how?" Lulamoon pressed, as she rested her head on his shoulder.
"There is a lot of snobbery." Her mouth twisted into a small frown. "For many, the simple fact that they were born there automatically makes them better than the ponies of other countries. But not all Prench ponies are equally better. You must speak a certain way, dress a certain way, act a certain way, or else you will be dismissed as worthless. Everypony pretends to be so proper and moral, and Celestia help you if you make a mistake."
"Sounds pretty harsh."
"Oh they could be. They certainly wouldn't approve of an unwed mare being pregnant."
"Good thing you're not-" Lulamoon leaned away so he could see her clearly. "Wait, are you trying to tell me you're pregnant?"
She smiled as Lulamoon threw his forelegs around her. "I take it you're happy."
"Of course!" He paused, trying to steel his nerves. "Ingenue, will you... marry me?"
"Marriage? Are you trying to make an honest mare of me?"
He shook his head. "Absolutely not. Lulamoon the Magnificent does not do the impossible. But maybe you could make me a better pony."
It was a good thing they were in the woods so nopony could hear when she said yes.
"Prouesse, get down from there!"
Somehow the tiny colt had managed to ascend to the lowest branch of a tree. This event was made all the more perplexing by the fact that the little pegasus could barely lift off more than a couple inches when he tried to fly. Lulamoon picked his son up,marveling once again at how much the colt looked like Ingenue. Maybe it was the wings that overshadowed any resemblance to himself he might be missing.
"K'dabra!" The little pony bubbled.
"Oh you want a ride, huh?" He laughed. Prouesse didn't know many words, but he knew that one. Lulamoon set the rascal on his head and started walking, which caused Prouesse to squeal in delight.
Today's 'k'dabra' turned out to be a long one, as it was Lulamoon's turn to do the shopping. Most of the clerks knew all about the k'dabra, and Prouesse was cute enough to elicit quite a few awwws from those who didn't.
But Prouesse started coughing on the way out of the final store. "You ok, buddy?" Lulamoon asked when he didn't stop, sitting down so he could hold his son in front of him.
Prouesse's nose was bleeding.
A doctor was talking to him, but Lulamoon was unable to pay much attention to what she was saying. Not with Prouesse laying in front of him in a hospital bed, strung up with wires and tubes, a mask obscuring his face. Ingenue was asleep next to him, finally. They'd both been up for well over a day.
"As far as we can tell, the growth's only been there for a couple weeks." The doctor said over the unsteady beeping of the heart monitor. "But he's just so small that..."
The doctor trailed off. Before Lulamoon could respond, though, the beeping was replaced by the steady tone of a flat-line and he and Ingenue were dragged out of the room.
Ch. 3
Standing by the grave, Lulamoon struggled to figure out what to say.
His son was gone. Lulamoon would never be able to see him grow up, would never smile as he watched the colt fumble and stammer and blush as he tried to ask a filly to be his special somepony. Would never get to explain hoofball or teach him how to pick a lock.
He would never again see the colt try to fly, fall, and try again, the little guy keeping a look of determination on his face the whole time. He would never chuckle as he cleaned tracked-in mud off the floor, or read him another silly story.
He couldn't say anything. He couldn't even breathe.
Why Prouesse? Why...?
Ingenue was a wreck. She hadn't even left her room since the funeral service. Why wouldn't she talk to him? Did she think it was his fault?
Was it his fault? Was there some sign, some symptom, that he missed? Could he have saved Prouesse?
He couldn't do this, couldn't take it. Not anymore. There was no way to bring his son back. There was no way to make his wife stop hating him. There was... nothing left for him here.
There was no point in him staying.
He hadn't performed since Prouesse's birth, but that didn't mean his heat was gone. He'd still been receiving invitations to perform. It'd be no problem for him to set up a show. He could go. He should go.
With him here, it would be harder for Ingenue to move on. Each day would be a constant reminder of what they'd lost. Leaving was the only choice. It was the right choice.
It was the easy choice.
Standing by the grave, Trixie wondered what she should say.
Ingenue had left her here, as any words the pegasus could have had been spoken long ago. Trixie was alone. She sat down nin front of the gravestone.
The date of death wasn't even a year before her birthday.
She took a deep breath, drawing on a stage trick her dad had taught her to settle her nerves. "When Trixie started, Trixie wanted to know if she had any more siblings like Apple Bloom... and it turns out the answer was yes. Trixie had a baby brother- wait, you'd be older than Trixie now."
"Why am I saying 'Trixie'?" She shook her head, trying to get her thoughts to line up. "You're family, right? And we're all alone. I should be able to say 'I'... But it doesn't really feel right. Maybe it's because Trixie never knew you."
Silence hung in the air for a while.
"Trixie was hoping to learn more about Dad, about why he did the things he did." She shrugged. "Maybe Trixie did. Maybe Trixie just doesn't understand it all the way yet. Dad was so kind, so strong... so broken. So mean. It's like there were two of him, the pony he showed to Trixie and the pony that others saw. Maybe I'll never get it."
Trixie stood again and placed a hoof on the gravestone. "I hope you're in a better place now, Big Brother. I hope Dad is happy."
Then she left.
