Hailstorms and Helping Hooves

Chapters

The Tower
The Castle
The Village, part one
The Village, part two
The Road
The Hospital and Israch on the Mountain

The Tower

Chapter One

Rain could be heard crashing against the glazed windows of Twilight’s crystalline palace. Starlight Glimmer was lethargically striding down the halls, trying to recall the layout of the castle. It was always difficult for her to get started on inclement days like that--besides, there was nothing for her to really do. Twilight was out with Spike and her friends, the other elements of harmony, on some sort of escapade and wouldn’t be home until evening. Starlight, a social creature, was looking for the only other current occupant of the palace to fritter the time away until Twilight returned. Unfortunately for her, Beatrix Lulamoon made for very poor company.

For her first few days at the castle, Starlight was always walking on eggshells--especially around Trixie, but she (like everyone else) eventually learned that the magician was more bark than bite. Even so, the bark was pretty terrible on it’s own. To Starlight’s credit, she had yet to have really set Trixie off, thanks to Twilight’s advice the day Starlight first started living in the castle--as soon as the topic of the princess’ court wizard came up, Starlight was barraged with various perimeters and boundaries for interacting with Trixie: when to speak to him, how to speak to him, what not to bring up, how to get what she wanted--and most of it had to do with stroking his inflated ego. Of course, Starlight was mortified of talking to Trixie at first, but she gradually learned that it was simpler than Twilight made it seem.

After a few minutes of meandering around, looking down hallways and opening doors to nowhere, she found the wizard’s study. Carpeted floors, blue wallpaper (Trixie wanted yellow), a telescope, a chalkboard, an easel, filled bookshelves and derelict papers were the most innocuous aspects of the room. Someone entering for the first time would find their situation a little more dire once they saw that Trixie decorated his study with numerous hanging photographs of himself, multiple self portraits in various military uniforms, classical paintings he had recreated (bastardized with his image in the place of historical figures), and at least one marble bust behind his disorganized desk. You can guess who the bust depicted. The only picture in the room that wasn’t of Trixie was a small framed photo of Twilight Sparkle, and it sat turned inward on his desk. If there were only two pieces of information that might be garnered from this room’s décor, they would be that Trixie felt a certain way about Twilight, and that Trixie is a bad painter.

The magician is question was sitting at his desk, wearing Twilight’s crown, back hooves propped up as he ate an expensive-looking slice of cake--that is to say that he was goldbricking, as usual. Starlight was unmoved by the display, already familiar with Trixie’s proclivities toward work, but seemed a little concerned about the cake he was eating. Stepping into the study, she said to him, “Trixie, you do know that cakes have gluten? And are made with milk?”

“So?” Trixie said, pointedly, as he finished shoveling the last pieces of spongy delight into his mouth.

Starlight, who somehow missed the gist of Trixie’s assertion, replied, “Twilight has you on that diet, and she wouldn’t like you eating ca-”

“Yeah, well, what Twilight doesn’t know can’t hurt me,” Trixie interjected, once more trying to get his point across--and it seemed to work this time.

“She’s going to see a piece missing from the cake,” Starlight strolled up to one of Trixie’s bookcases, looking over his collection of arcane tomes as the wizard looked worriedly at his empty plate, not having considered the fact that Twilight would realize there was a slice of cake missing. After a few seconds, his look mellowed as he reclined again in his chair.

“It wouldn’t matter, anyway,” Trixie said with a mixture of defeat and carelessness.

“Trouble in paradise?” Starlight glanced at the wizard, smirking before looking back at the books.

“Things have been weird with Twilight ever since Flurry was born,” Trixie said lazily, looking up at the ceiling.

“Have you two not been very close, lately?” Starlight said, a little more invested in the conversation than Trixie.

“Oh no, we’ve been close. Closer than before, even. She’s been wanting to stay up with me, talking about this and that and hopes and dreams,” Trixie crooned with a twinge of sardonicism. “Yeah, we’re close. The problem is that we haven’t gotten close in a long time.”

Starlight looked a little more closely at the books, starting to blush as she realized Trixie must’ve forgotten that he was speaking to someone and not himself. Normally, he’d barely even talk about the weather--preferring to grunt and groan until he could make a smartass remark. “But haven't you two both been sleeping in the same room, together?"

"Yeah, sleeping... That's all we've been doing- Woah, hey now," Trixie kicked off his desk and sat up straight in his chair. "I know what game you mares are playing," He sunk back into his chair, his tone falling back down. "But you have to get up pretty early in the morning to get one over on the most cunning wizard in Equestria."

Starlight glanced over at Trixie, one eyebrow raised and her smirk growing. "Oh, yeah--you caught me, Trixie. The way I walked in and you just started telling me about your and Twilight's se-"

"You heard nothing," Trixie looked over, a little less blasé about the conversation. "And I'd hate to hear anything about any of this exchange getting back to Twilight," Trixie looked away from Starlight and down at his desk, pretending to organize papers and reports. "Because, believe me, I would hear about it. I would hear about it for weeks."

Starlight chuckled, trotting to the door. "I won't say a word."

"Where are you going?" Trixie queried as he continued to shuffle paper, almost convincing himself that he was working.

"I remembered that I have to write a letter to somepony," Starlight said, leaving the study a little more energized than when she arrived.

That’s concerning... Even so, the question remains.

Trixie picked up his picture of Twilight, staring at it with no discernable emotion.

Clearly, there’s something wrong with The Great and Powerful Beatrix Lulamoon’s special somepony. What mare in her right mind wouldn’t want to-

Trixie’s ruminations were interrupted by a small piece of hail thwacking the window, surprising him. Twilight would probably be home sooner than expected. She and Spike where off at some charity event in Ponyville. Twilight had asked Trixie to come and do some magic tricks for the children, but he didn't feel like going out on such short notice. For Twilight, it was natural to go out and talk to anypony in town--but Trixie required a little preparation. He couldn't perform unless he knew he'd be in control. Besides, the ponies of Ponyville were beginning to become increasingly sinister to the wizard.

The why isn’t quite as important as the how--how to fix it, that is. Twilight’s probably just grown accustomed to my greatness and can no longer recognize it.

Trixie held the picture to his chest, peering around his study. He paid particular attention to his artistic take of the heroes of the past. Noble warlords, ascendant generals, emperors and kings all blessed with Trixie's visage. Twilight was the only pony who ever encouraged him to pursue his hobby of painting.

All I have to do is jolt her feminine senses with some great act of heroism so she’ll remember how extraordinary I am. But how can I show her that I’m a hero?

Trixie set the picture down and rose out of his seat, stepping over to his battered window. He watched the rain beat down on Ponyville, occasionally hearing hail ping off the tiles of his tower. He briefly entertained the idea of heading out to some mountain peak and slaying a dragon like the heroes of yore. He quickly abandoned this idea, chiefly for two reasons: The first being that with Twilight’s new friendship to that dragonlord, killing a dragon for no reason would probably constitute murder (at least in Twilight’s eyes); and the second being that Trixie was much too cowardly to fight a dragon.

The only two ways I can convince Twilight that I’m a hero is by either: re-engineering the perimeters, by which, she defines a hero; or by actually going out somewhere and stopping some great evil. Twilight’s much too smart for the first option, and the second carries the (slim) possibility of failure--which would probably just make me look even less heroic.

Trixie squinted, trying to see past the cascade of rainwater to see if he could make out Twilight’s figure heading up the path to the palace; and wondering if the risk for this undertaking was worth the reward. He missed her when she was away, even for a few hours. He would usually travel with her when she went off on her adventures, but with this new friendship business he felt as if he could contribute less and less. He was more equipped for dungeon delving and daring escapes, not building communities and making ponies hug. Even so, he was a real wizard now--thanks to Twilight--and it was his duty to aid her (one of the few responsibilities in his life he ever took seriously).

Unless… unless I can engineer a situation wherein it only appears as if there’s some great evil that I’ve stopped… No, Twilight would see past that. But maybe…

One day you're out on the road, free; the next you're sleeping in a basement with a ring around your horn. Trixie had come to terms with this fact of his life; but things were getting better all the time. The ring was still there, but at least now he has a real bedroom. And with his new status as a court wizard, he had more freedom to explore the arcane than ever before.

I engineer a situation wherein there actually is something bad that I stop. I’ll be the villain behind the scenes, and the hero in front of Twilight! That’ll work. Now the question is: what is something bad I can do secretly, but stop visibly?

Trixie spent the next ten or so minutes pacing back and forth, occasionally looking out the window to try and see if Twilight was on the way home. When he saw her violet frame galloping down the path with Spike clamped on her back holding an umbrella, he headed down to the foyer. On his way, he stepped into the kitchen for a moment and tried rotating the cake dish in such a way that the missing piece of the cake wasn’t visible. How successful he was remained to be seen. After grabbing a towel from the supply room, he stepped out of the kitchen and trotted to the main entrance.

A few moments later, clanging could be heard before Twilight stepped inside, Spike clambering down and collapsing the umbrella as Trixie wrapped the towel around the princess (who was mostly dry except her hooves and legs).

“Oh, Trixie--you’re so good to me,” Twilight purred, gratitude in her eyes as Trixie dried her legs with the plush towel. She kissed him once on the mouth and nuzzled him, offering up a new leg when he finished one. “Any special reason you’re wearing my tiara again?” Twilight giggled as Trixie (who up until then had a very smug look) levitated the the princess’ crown off of his head and onto hers as his face started to turn red. He had forgotten he was wearing it.

“I was keeping it warm for you, just like how I brought you this towel--I’m just a considerate pony, like that,” Trixie said, trying to look like his best idea of a humble saint (which only made him look more smug than before). “Not like Starlight... I think she’s been sneaking in slices of cake on the sly.” Twilight, still smiling, gave Trixie an incredulous look as he finished drying her. “And after she knows that I can’t have any. Anyway, how was your, uh… charity drive, wasn’t it?”

“The Helping Hooves Fundraising Fair for Fillies and Colts,” Twilight answered, getting up and strolling into the foyer with Trixie while Spike went off on his own, somewhere.

“Surely the parents of the fillies and colts should be the ones receiving aid,” Trixie postulated, only to make conversation.

“It’s for victims of child abuse, Trixie, who are still wards of the state,” Twilight looked back at her wizard, her voice a little quieter and her eyes trying to elicit some sympathy.

“Then they really should have put that in the name of the ev…”

And then Trixie got a terrible, terrible idea.

“Event? Don’t you think that putting ‘child abuse’ in the name would’ve brought it down? The kids are there for it, you know. Speaking of which, I really wish you would’ve come. The children love you. A few even asked me about you,” Twilight said, snapping an increasingly distant Trixie back into the conversation.

“The children love my magic act. How they feel about Beatrix Lulamoon, the pony, is a different matter. The ponies down there have probably already poisoned their children’s impressionable young minds with lies about me.” Trixie’s tone became faintly venomous as his paranoia bubbled up, worrying Twilight.

“Now, Trixie… You know that isn’t true, and I don’t like you talking that way. You remember how I used to have you help Cheerilee? The schoolchildren loved you,” Twilight tried her best to convince Trixie, both of them slowing down as they reached the grand staircase, but she knew that when Trixie got an idea in his head like this it was almost impossible to convince him otherwise--at least for a few days. Until then he’d just grunt and snap at her if she brought it up, then go pout. “And I’m sure that if you had come to town with me today you would have seen that all the colts and fillies adore you.”

“Hrmph,” Trixie grunted, looking away toward the hall that led to his tower’s staircase.

“Trixie, it isn’t healthy to stay cooped up in your tower all day, never leaving the castle. I don’t know why you think that everypony has some vendetta against you for this or that--and now children? This is getting out of h-”

“Hrrngh--Yeah, yeah--uh huh, you’re right. Thanks,” Trixie’s tone rose sharply, his voice trembling.

“Trixie…” Twilight really didn’t want to fight about this.

“Thank you for telling me what to think, Twilight--I’m going to go up to my study and reflect on what a braindead imbecile I am,” Trixie snapped at his princess, storming off toward his tower’s side entrance.

Twilight sighed, stepping up the stairs as she watched Trixie march off, his head hanging. She was used to him blowing up like that, but it still upset her when it happened--not because he had yelled at her, but because she knew that he was hurt. Trixie never had such a short fuse when they were growing up, going to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns together. It must have happened sometime after he left Canterlot, that he became that way. The way Twilight figured, traveling for years alone can turn you into an antisocial pony; but she’ll be the first pony to tell you that she’s not sure why he’s that way. What really perplexed Twilight was why Trixie left Canterlot in the first place.

Maybe it’s my fault, Twilight thought to herself as she walked to her bedroom, I could have been there for him more. He never really had anypony except me. He certainly couldn’t talk to his father… and that mother of his... I guess when you don’t have anypony, it’s not such a difficult decision to make; to just get up and leave one day. But these thoughts were the same ones running through Twilight’s mind the day it happened, years ago.

Twilight opened the door to her room, which was very modest for a princess. Next to her room’s door was the door to Trixie’s bedroom, of course they’d usually both sleep in Twilight’s room during winter. The entrance to his tower’s study was down at the other end of the hall, close enough that she could hear him locking the door. She trotted to her bed, levitating her tiara into its display case and sitting down before she slipped on a sweater, thinking about the fundraiser in town. It was meant to last until the late afternoon, then the weather service would bring in the hailstorm--but something must’ve happened.

I would think that Trixie would’ve been more sympathetic about victims of child abuse.

Pulling down a pillow from the top of her bed, Twilight laid her head on it’s silky exterior and sprawled out. A few minutes passed as she thought more about the fundraiser, the children, the weather, and Trixie. After a while, she heard some trotting outside her room and figured Starlight was coming to talk to either herself or Trixie. Sure enough, Starlight’s head poked into the entrance of Twilight’s room, looking at the alicorn.

“How’d the fundraiser go?” Starlight stepped into the room, walking toward the window.

“It was nice while it lasted. The fillies were all really excited to meet a princess,” Twilight smiled, sitting up on her bed as the sound of falling rain and hail filled the room. “Most of the colts were asking me about… Captain Fantastic out there.” Twilight motioned toward her door, her smile faltering.

“I heard him yelling a few minutes ago,” Starlight looked out toward the Everfree. “Trouble in paradise?”

“No more than usua-... Well…” Twilight looked at the other window. “Things have been weird with Trixie ever since my niece was born,” Twilight confided in Starlight, who smirked at the statement. “He’s been acting immature- well, more immature. One minute he’ll be ogling me like a teenager, and the next he’ll be following me around like a sick puppy. And whenever I try to talk to him about our relationship, or anything serious, he runs away,” Twilight said, looking to Starlight for advice.

Starlight looked at her friend and shrugged, stepping toward the door, “Maybe you should try and sit him down, then talk to him about this.”

“Have you met Trixie?” Twilight mocked. “Where are you going?”

“I just remembered that I have to rewrite a letter I’m sending to somepony.” Starlight grinned meekly, stepping out the door and trotting down the hall. Twilight, bemused, fell back on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Actually, when she wanted to, she could sit Trixie down and have a serious talk with him--but that kind of thing should be reserved for when it was really needed. She wasn't too awfully worried about Trixie's demeanor, figuring that it would work out once he got more acclimatized to the new atmosphere around the castle; with Starlight having moved in and Shining Armor's recent visit, it must've been stressful for Trixie. He doesn't like change, Twilight had noticed. Twilight started to think about Shining Armor's visit, smiling--he had brought Flurry Heart with him, and Twilight had tried to get the foal to call her and Trixie, "Aunt Twilight and Uncle Trixie"-

Oh...

Twilight sat up, looking at her door.

Maybe that has something to do with it.

The Castle

Chapter Two

There was always an eerie quiet after those hailstorms, and the sky was still dark as flurries fluttered out across the cold midday air. Trixie was hunched over, looking into his telescope and scanning the streets of Ponyville from his study’s balcony as he often did--only now he had a purpose in doing so. Spike laid sprawled out on the soft carpeted floor, staring at the ceiling. Faint murmurs of Twilight and Starlight talking down the hall could be heard; it had been a few hours since Trixie’s daily tantrum (which was less severe than usual) and the two mares were probably conversing about something else. Their voices could be heard drifting away down the stairs before Trixie glanced back at the still locked door, then Spike, then returned to his telescope.

“Say, Spike… You’re always down at Rarity’s; have you seen her sister, lately? Spoken to her?” Trixie did his best to sound as if he was just trying to make conversation (which was itself a giveaway to his ulterior motives), and Spike was aloof enough that it seemed to work.

“Sweetie Belle?... Yeah, she was there yesterday... had lunch with us,” Spike said apathetically, never taking his eyes off the ceiling. Normally he’d be more keen to point out Trixie’s sudden interest in his social life, but Spike had been detached for the past couple weeks. What was really strange about the whelp’s behavior was the fact that he had been spending more time with Trixie than with Twilight, lately--and spent a lot of his time alone.

“Oh? Huh… Well, uh… She didn’t happen to mention Scootaloo, did she? How’s Scootaloo doing?” Trixie’s voice gradually rose in pitch as he approached the object of this questioning, poorly belying his hidden agenda.

“She stopped by at the cafe where we were eating lunch… Hurt herself riding her scooter, again--but I guess she was alright,” Spike said, becoming less distant. After a short pause, he propped himself up on his elbows at looked quizzically at the sorcerer. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh? Oh… No reason,” Trixie’s voice was nearly a squeal at this point. He looked back at the dragon, mustering his most apathetic look to convince Spike that he was just making conversation. “Say…” Trixie said, his voice returning to normal, and looked at his desk--laden with disorderly sheets of paper, before peering back into his telescope. “Why don’t you grab the weather service’s schedule off my desk and tell me when these hailstorms will end?”

Spike folded his arms behind his head, still laying on the carpet. “They’re supposed to keep up until Friday, but it’ll start snowing instead of raining tomorrow.” Spike reclined with a self-satisfied look and closed eyes. “Then they’re supposed to start the fair back up and try again. Oh! By the way,” Spike looked back up at the wizard. “I heard Twilight telling Star that she was going to make you go with her to the fair, earlier today.” Spike sat up. “Said something about ‘healing your relationship’ or something girly like that.”

Trixie frowned for a moment before it morphed into a smug smirk as he adjusted his telescope, still surveying Ponyville. “That’s to be expected, but don’t you worry your scaley little head about Twilight and I, my little friend,” Trixie said knowingly, twisting the apparatus’s knobs.

“I wasn’t,” Spike interjected, standing up and walking over to the balcony.

“Good, good…” The wizard grinned. “Because I’ve got the cure for what ails her.” He said, centering his telescope on the Ponyville Schoolhouse.

Meanwhile,

“Maybe something happened with Rarity, and that’s why Spike’s been so distant,” Starlight said, looking over at Twilight as the two trotted into the kitchen for lunch. Twilight paused in contemplation, levitating some knives out of a drawer and over to the marble countertop. Starlight sat down at the kitchen table tucked away in an alcove by the window, and looked over yesterday’s newspaper; the papercolt didn’t deliver today’s.

“No, he would’ve told me--and besides, even if something did happen, he wouldn’t sulk for weeks about it,” Twilight used her magic to transfer a loaf of bread and some vegetarian foodstuffs over to the counter. “And he’s been spending a lot of time by himself, lately.”

“Well… I don’t know much about dragon physiology, but… You know… He is reaching that age, Twilight,” Starlight said, only slightly attempting to convey any kind of comforting tone. Twilight was nonplussed by the statement to begin with, but her expression grew a little anxious as she sliced a head of lettuce. “And you said that he’s been spending more time with Trixie, earlier. Maybe he’s looking for a male role model,” Starlight hypothesized to a pensive Twilight.

“To have Trixie as a role model,” Twilight shuddered at the thought, fumbling around some bottles of sauces and dressing with her hooves before deigning to use her magic instead. “Do you really think that Spike is…” Twilight looked a little anxious, but only for a moment.

Starlight didn’t respond, all of her attention now devoted to the paper. All Twilight could make out on the page was a muddled, achromatic photo of some suited old stallions in a heap.

“I’ll have to write a letter to Ember about that,” Twilight was already feeling more relaxed about Spike, having devised a (albeit cursory and insubstantial) course of action; she slipped some lettuce and cucumbers between slices of bread. The princess walked the two sandwiches over to the table, sitting down in front of Starlight and placing their plates on the glass tabletop. Starlight raised her sandwich to her mouth slowly and took a small bite, now more concerned with the newspaper than Spike’s changing body. “So much for ‘neither snow nor rain’ huh?” Twilight giggled, taking a less modest bite out of her sandwich.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, hehe… Hey, Twilight--who’s ‘Halifax Lulamoon’?” Starlight queried, lowering the paper to find Twilight looking thoughtful as she finished chewing.

“That’s Trixie’s father. And I think it’s one of his brothers’ names, too. Does it say something about him in the paper?” Twilight was getting a little worried.

“It’s just something about another argument in the House of Lords,” Starlight said half-heartedly and bit back into her sandwich.

“Oh… Well, still, I wouldn’t mention it to Trixie,” Twilight knew that Starlight could handle herself around Trixie, but still caught herself giving Starlight advice like that.

“Speaking of Trixie… I know you told me not to ask him about this, so I was wondering if you would tell me about something,” Starlight had sat the paper down and was looking at Twilight as the two finished their lunch. “I’ve been wondering about his name.”

“Oh, you mean the nomenclature? Well, the Lulamoons are one of the older noble houses, and back in the early days of Unicorn civilization naming conventions were-”

“No, I mean his first name: Beatrix.”

If Twilight was worried about Starlight’s first question, she was mortified about this one. “Well… Trixie wouldn’t like us talking about this behind his back… But he wouldn’t like us talking about it in front of him, either,”

“I’m just curious. It’s not like I’m going to go shouting about it from rooftops, you know me better than that,” Starlight implored coolly, trying to downplay her curiosity and soothe Twilight at the same time.

Twilight considered just stopping there, but surrendered to Starlight’s inquisition. “Trixie… Trixie’s mother was a… special kind of mare.” Twilight said with some trepidation, looking at the two entrances to the kitchen. Starlight was hanging on every word. “And after having so many sons, she wanted a daughter.”

There are few words that can describe Starlight’s look upon hearing this. “So she named him that because… She didn’t make him… Did she... Wh-what did she do?” Starlight was slowly starting to lean in with rapt attention.

Twilight bit her lip, looking away with an expression somewhere between guilt and pity. “Well… She would… She’d make him… wear…” she trailed off, shaking her head.

Starlight looked deeply at Twilight, mouth slightly agape. “D-dresses? Make-up? What?” Starlight suggested anxiously, almost smiling. Twilight just stared at her, the princess’s face now expressing more guilt than pity. There was a long pause, then Twilight’s eyes darted down to the table.

“When we were growing up, other colts would make fun of him for it...” Twilight’s expression was now entirely guilty. “It really isn’t right to talk about this.”

“I understand,” Starlight affirmed, slowly grasping the gravity of the talk and relieving Twilight. “I had no idea,” Starlight stood up, taking her plate back and levitating a ewer of lemon water from the refrigerator over to the counter. “So, are you going to try and have Trixie perform his magic act at the fair to raise money?”

“Not if he doesn’t want to--and he won’t, but that’s fine. Like I said, I just want to have a day out with him.” Twilight used her own magic to bring two simple glasses over to Starlight. “It’s been a while since we’ve been out together.”

A few hours later

“I’m just saying, if Twilight’s your mother then that makes me your absentee father,” Trixie joked, sitting at his desk and looking over some reports from the College of Canterlot. These bull sessions with Spike were quickly becoming his favorite part of the day; Twilight would always nag at him when he tried to joke about subjects like, for example, Big Mac’s crossdressing--but Spike thought it was hysterical.

“I barely remember you when I was growing up, and you weren’t even there when I hatched.” Spike said, smirking as he sat in an upholstered chair and reading some book about Unicorn culture from one of Trixie’s bookshelves.

“Oh yeah, here it comes: ‘You were never there for me! How could you walk out on mom like that!?’” Trixie tried his best not to laugh as he imitated a blubbering dragon. “Now tell me about how Twilight had to be your mom and your dad.”

Spike burst into laughter. “Just wait until I’m a famous rapper, then you’ll regret it!”

“Pfft- Ha!” The wizard chuckled, signing his papers and setting them in a tray. He reached down and opened a cabinet built into his desk, producing a bottle of oil. He dabbed a cotton ball from the same cabinet into the slick substance, then around the ring adorning the base of his horn, which drew Spike’s attention.

“So, can you still not cast many of your spells?” Spike queried, genuinely concerned for whatever reason, which took Trixie by surprise.

“Twilight’s allowed me to cast whatever spells I please, but she’ll know if I do. Not only will she know that I’ve cast a spell, but she’ll know what spell I cast. And she always asks me why, where, on what or whom--it’s more trouble than it’s worth. Most of the time, anyway,” Trixie explained, returning the bottle of oil to it’s place and throwing the cotton ball in the trash can next to his desk.

“Couldn’t you just lie to her about why you did it?” Spike countered, surprising Trixie even more; he never thought Spike would suggest something like that.

“I can’t lie to Twilight, Spike. I mean, I’m not physically capable--she can always tell,” Trixie believed this to be ultimately true, but could recall a few times that he did successfully lie to his princess. “Why are you asking?”

“So, like… Hypothetically, if you were to cast an… Invisibility spell, just for example, on somepony--Twilight would know?” Spike queried, even worse than Trixie at hiding his real intentions.

“Yes, she would. Does this have something to do with Rarity, you lascivious little lizard?” Trixie said bluntly, clearly a rhetorical question. Even the self-absorbed magician had started to notice that Spike was devoting more time to his unrequited love. “Because if you think that I’m going to help you lech after a full grown mare, you’re severely overestimating the closeness of our relationship,” Trixie stood up, slid over to his telescope and jerked it up toward the sky, realizing that he had left it fixed on the schoolhouse. “And not just because I think Twilight would find out… You’re too young to go around cavorting with mares old enough to-”

“Fine, fine--okay, sorry Twilight,” Spike slammed the book closed and set it in the chair after he hopped off of it. It only took a moment for their chat to turn into an argument.

Trixie looked back at the dragon with a look of annoyed disbelief and stepped back over to his desk. A month or so ago, it would be unimaginable that Spike would act like this. “You know, Twilight only gets onto you about this because she’s worried about y-”

Spike returned an even more annoyed look of disbelief. “Oh, oh! Now you want to talk about how I should-”

There was a knock at the door, and Trixie and Spike both glanced over before exchanging thoughtful looks with one another. The wizard used his magic to unlock the bolt before chirping with a much more cheerful voice, “Come in!”

Upon entering her wizard’s den, Twilight Sparkle was greeted with the smiling faces of Spike and Trixie. She grinned and trotted over to the balcony, seeming to have not heard the small outburst between the two. “You two look like you’re enjoying eachother’s company,” said Twilight--Trixie and Spike nodding copiously in response. She craned her head down and peered into the eyepiece of the wizard’s telescope. “Ah, I see your telescope is set to the same equatorial coordinates as mine!” She exclaimed cheerfully and trotted over to Trixie. Nuzzling the confused stallion, Twilight sweetly appealed, “So, do you want to go?”

“I, uh… I… Uh…” Trixie stammered as he looked at his mare, then at a bemused Spike, then back at Twilight. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on--It’ll be fun! It’s the same night the fair opens again, so you and I can spend the entire day together.” Implored Twilight, trying to capture Trixie’s eyes with her own. Normally, Twilight (while very affectionate) wasn’t quite so amorous--but, as the wizard had brought up earlier that day: ever since Twilight became an aunt, she’d been much more attentive to Trixie. At least, it seemed that way to him.

“Y-yeah, okay--sounds like fun!” Trixie was rapidly running down the list of upcoming astrological occurrences in his mind, trying to figure out what was happening in case Twilight put him on the spot. Unfortunately for him, he’d been putting off his duties as court wizard. “It’s a date.”

“I can’t wait,” Twilight kissed him on the cheek and nuzzled him once more before shifting over to Spike, motioning toward the dragon with one wing and toward the door with the other. “Come with me, Spike. I need to have a talk with you.” Apprehension flashed across Spike’s face and Trixie snickered.

“Oooooh,” Trixie mocked the little whelp as he and Twilight left.

“Trixie, you go help Starlight get started with dinner,” Twilight shot back, smirking and taking Spike under one wing. The wizard sat up in consternation. He hated helping with dinner, feeling that it was beneath him. The door closed softly, giving a nearly inaudible tap. Trixie gathered himself and stood up, taking a moment to organize the remaining papers he was looking over before heading down his study’s trapdoor and down the stairs to the base of his tower.

Even when his responsibilities were more pedestrian--back when he, Spike and Twilight were living in the Golden Oaks Library--he usually wouldn’t help prepare dinner. While he’d never admit it, he was just a poor cook. On paper, he should’ve been very good at cooking (seeing as how it’s just a series of chemical reactions); but in practice, he always messed something up. Even before he and Twilight were really romantically involved, she wouldn’t make him cook, usually--only when she was upset with him.

The door to the base of Trixie’s tower swung open and he strode down the hall and into the foyer. He trotted past the main entrance, contemplating he and Twilight’s upcoming date at the fair and still trying to decipher what she was referring to with his telescope. He was surprised she wasn’t more upset about the fair being closed early that day--he recalled something from one of their talks where she mentioned helping organize it; something about getting the fillies and colts in question to do this or that, go here or there--he really didn’t care enough to remember.

Then, just as he was about to enter the kitchen, something by the doors caught his eye. A clipboard with some sort of itinerary was poking out of Twilight’s still frosty travel bag. He trotted over, looking behind to make sure no one was watching. Trixie carefully slid the clipboard out of Twilight’s bag, memorizing it’s location before doing so. He saw a small series of notes Twilight had clipped to the top: correspondence between she and Cheerilee. He flinched hard at some yelling from upstairs, which sounded like Spike, but regained his composure when he realized that he wasn’t found out. He meticulously looked over every note the princess and the teacher had exchanged.

“This is good,” The wizard purred to himself. “I can use this.”

The Village, part one

Chapter Three

No birds were singing, and cold hung in the air like distrust. Beatrix was down in the base of the tower, preparing for his journey into Ponyville after breakfast. Flasks and beakers bubbled with variegated substances, transferring them to other glassware with twisting tubes by magic light. Amid the alchemical apparatuses, the wizard had furtively hid an absinthe fountain and glass. His inclination toward the wormwood spirit was one of the few proclivities he had picked up from his father, who was often inebriated when Trixie was growing up--but these thoughts were quickly banished. Trixie didn’t like thinking about his father, unless he was justifying himself by blaming Halifax for something.

Beatrix had considered having a glass to start the day and take the edge off his trip into town, but came to the conclusion that his stealthy operations that day would be too delicate to undertake while under the influence. That, and he was afraid Twilight would be able to tell at breakfast. He wasn’t afraid that Twilight would be mad at him; he wasn’t afraid Twilight would do anything, in fact--what concerned him about Twilight seeing him drunk in the morning was much more frightening than anything she could do to him. He was afraid that he would feel guilty.

Beatrix slithered over to a mirror and began styling his mane, looking intensely at himself as he did so. Used to, back on the road, he could have a nip first thing in the morning and feel absolutely delighted with himself. But ever since Twilight was made his warden after his misdeeds in canterlot, she had slowly been shaping him into someone else--reforming him, according to Celestia. While never particularly courageous, there were few things that ever truly frightened Beatrix Lulamoon, and one of them was the idea of being turned into something he wasn’t. And now, Twilight seeing Trixie have just one glass of absinthe could make him hate himself. The thought of it shook him to the core.

Trixie rubbed his smooth face, now simply staring at his reflection. That was one of the first things Twilight had done: she made him shave every morning, just because she thought he looked better that way--and that was before she was even his marefriend. Now he was conditioned to shave each day, Twilight didn’t even have to ask anymore. He tried to eke out some anger at this realization, but was too defeated to even pout about it. Trixie thought back, trying to remember the first thing Twilight had changed about him. It was the very first day she was his guardian, he recalled. They were walking into the Golden Oaks Library together for the first time, Twilight was pointing down to the basement and then told him to take out his earring.

The wizard’s eyes darted up to his left ear, only a pinprick left to testify to fact that he ever even wore an earring. Trixie sighed, sneaking on some jewelry was the least of his worries now. First it’s how he looked, and then Twilight’s telling him what to eat, how to think, why to care--it never ends. It still vexed him, that Twilight would put him on some special diet for whatever reason. Trixie couldn’t even remember what the diet specified, much less why he was on it. Something about glue or something--and he couldn’t eat anything with casein, he remembered that. As much as he loved her, Trixie was getting tired of being treated like a colt. But now he had a plan to remedy that.

Trixie backed away from the mirror and went rooting around in some chests next to his enchanting table, mentally going over his mission in Ponyville that day as part of his plan to have Twilight remember that he was a stallion and not a colt.

Having been conceived in only one day, the plan was actually very simple. He’d find some little filly or colt being abused by their parents and rescue them--but this was difficult to do in Ponyville, as the town was very good at weeding that type of thing out; so his dilemma was finding such a filly or colt. But Trixie was both a magician and a gambler, and always had an ace up his sleeve. He already knew of one little filly in such a compromising position: Scootaloo. He had learned of her situation about a year and a half prior, and (after looking back on his own life) decided that it would be best for the little orange pegasus to stay with her father until she was old enough to move out. Trixie knew that Twilight just wouldn’t understand, and so he took various precautions ever since then to extricate himself from the situation. But now, while still feeling that Scootaloo staying with her father would be best, Trixie was willing to compromise his earlier convictions to convince Twilight of his masculinity and heroism.

The problem with this scheme arose when Trixie realized that he couldn’t just burst into their house one day without Twilight asking how he knew Scootaloo was being abused. Then, if Twilight found out that he knew this going on for years, he’d be worse off than ever before.

And so, I must engineer a scenario that precipitates a particularly severe instance of abuse, such that Scootaloo would be so injured that she couldn’t hide behind her excuses of scooter accidents anymore and it would be readily apparent to everypony that she was beaten. Then while the bureaucrats down at town hall stumble over their red tape, I trot in and save the day. Oh, the thought of it--there I am, standing triumphantly with a battered filly cradled in my hooves, everypony in awe! Especially Twilight! She would- oh! Oh... Twilight…

Trixie grinned like a dolt and thought longingly about Twilight’s slender alicorn figure.

Then I would be set for life.

The cacophony of bubbles and chirps from the wizard’s alchemical laboratory came to an abrupt stop and snapped Trixie out of his lustful daydreams. He stopped searching his chests and containers to step over to a small blue phial, watching the last drops of his special concoction drip into it. It was an integral part of his mission in Ponyville. The potion’s purpose was to fortify certain enzymes and increase his metabolic rates to such a point that he could drink alcohol without becoming intoxicated, at least for a short time. After the last of the elixir trickled into the murky bottle, Trixie corked it and nestled it into one of his bags, then returned to rifling through the chests.

In the dining room

The gentle susurrations of leaves being rustled by the cool morning breeze were supplemented by the soothing sound of snow patting the window glass of the dining hall. The sun peeked out between overbearing clouds just to cast her loving, gentle rays through the bleak morning sky and into the room. Twilight sat at the table, alone. She could hear Starlight and Spike in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Since last night she had grown increasingly concerned about Spike’s changes in behavior. She didn’t mention it to Starlight because she didn’t want to make Starlight feel as if her opinions were unimportant, but Twilight was fairly certain that if dragons did go through puberty, it wouldn’t be at the same age ponies did--and the affects on their behavior would probably be much different based on both biology and culture. But Spike was raised by ponies, so there might be some truth to Starlight’s assumptions.

Starlight wasn’t a very good cook to begin with, but it seemed to Twilight that her new student had begun to enjoy it. How Spike felt about cooking now was just as enigmatic as the whelp himself. Occasionally, Twilight cooked herself but didn’t have any passion for it. She figured that she was the only princess of Equestria that ever did her own cooking. Celestia, Luna, and her sister-in-law Cadance all had their castles staffed with chefs and servants and guards--but Twilight, while the princess of friendship, could only take so much contact with other ponies in a day. The closest thing Twilight had to a staff was her one court wizard, the incomparable Beatrix Lulamoon. The day that they all started living in the castle, she had discussed the idea of having a full staff with Trixie and, to her surprise, he agreed with Twilight. At first, she thought he’d be ecstatic toward the idea of having ponies wait on him day and night; but as she thought about it, it made more sense that he wouldn’t want ponies buzzing around the castle at all hours. Unless he was performing for one, controlling it, Trixie got uncomfortable around crowds.

I wonder what Trixie’s doing, anyway. He’s usually down for breakfast by now.

Twilight would have postulated further on Trixie’s actions that morning, but things were getting to the point she didn’t feel as if she could accurately predict anyone’s actions or motives anymore. With Spike’s mood-swings and Trixie’s odd behavior, it was as if Twilight was fighting a war on two fronts. She tried to take solace in Starlight’s company, but she barely knew her new student and couldn’t really speak earnestly to her, yet.

Maybe I’ll go talk to Rarity or Applejack about this, today. Rarity would probably be the better choice…

The princess leaned over and looked out of the dining room door, trying to see if Trixie was walking down the hall yet. He wasn’t.

He’s probably just looking over some enchanting schematics, I’ll bet. And he did bring that chemistry book to bed with him, last night. That’s it, Trixie’s probably just getting started on another one of his little projects.

Enchantment was one of the few schools of magic, at which, Trixie was better than Twilight. To his credit, Enchantment was also one of the most complex and advanced schools of magic. It confounded everyone who knew anything about Trixie’s skills in the arcane, the way he barely understood even the most basic concepts of any form of spellcasting, but could comprehend the most advanced and esoteric principles of magic with no struggle--and Twilight was no exception. When they were attending Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns together, all the old masters thought that Trixie was some kind of idiot savant and did their best to have his requirements for entry-level classes waived so he wouldn’t face any difficulties on the road to wizardry, but they were mostly rebuffed. That’s when Twilight actually met Trixie: with her being a child prodigy, some senior professor put the two in the same classes and asked her to help the colt pass any way she could (and, at first, she wasn’t very happy about it--but that’s a story for another day).

It’s because of this strange kind of savantism that, whenever Twilight was doting on Trixie in front of her friends or company, she would often say that if Trixie devoted as much time to his studies as she did to hers, he would be twice as good at magic as Twilight. The veracity of this statement (and whether Twilight herself believed it) is questionable, but it’s a theory that Trixie readily accepted. The problem with Trixie’s studies, as Twilight recalled, wasn’t that he didn’t apply himself, but that he would become obsessed with a certain school of magic (like Enchantment or Illusion) and focus solely on that school for months at a time. His studies in other schools didn’t necessarily suffer, but stagnated longer than their teachers would’ve liked--and Twilight was usually the one getting scolded for not having him work harder. Even back when she was a filly, Twilight had her hooves full with Trixie.

Twilight’s reflections on her court wizard were interrupted by the stallion himself trotting into the dining hall, wearing his bags and a scepter looped around his belt where he used to keep a knife. They exchanged looks and smiled before Trixie set down his bags and slid into his chair, next to Twilight. The princess nuzzled him, and he kissed her.

“Are you going out, today?” said Twilight, motioning toward the bags with her eyes.

“Yes, I’m going to Ponyville,” Trixie smirked; he had already picked out his lie for Twilight’s next question.

“That’s great, it’ll be good for you. What are you going to do?” Twilight smiled, nuzzling Trixie again.

“Well, I thought about what you said last night, and I’m going to head down to the schoolhouse and see if Cheerilee needs any help until the fair’s over. I didn’t forget that you told me how she’s been helping you organize it,” Trixie said with a self-satisfied smirk, more for his well-crafted fib than helping any overwrought schoolteacher.

Twilight, still smiling, stopped nuzzling Trixie and sat up with an inquisitive look in her eyes. “I don’t remember telling you that Cheerilee was helping us organize the fair,” she said, more bemused than accusational.

“Uh, w-well… Sure you did. The other night when we were talking about… the fair,” stammered Trixie, his smirk becoming more nervous than smug.

Twilight pursed her lips. “Mhm? I don’t really re-”

“A-are you looking forward to our date Friday? Stargazing?” Trixie interjected, a master conversationalist. He had expertly deciphered from their talk in bed last night that there would be a lunar eclipse that Friday, and Twilight wanted to go lay in a field and watch it (along with every other couple in town.) Twilight and Trixie both agreed that the moon looked more orange than pink during lunar eclipses, but it was always promoted as a night for romance, anyway. Trixie thought the entire ordeal was vapid, but Twilight thought it’d be nice to go.

Twilight seemed willing enough to drop the topic of Cheerilee and the fair. “Really, Trixie, it’ll be nice. I promise. It’ll be like the other ponies aren’t even there. I know how you feel in big groups like that,” said the princess, rubbing Trixie’s arm reassuringly.

“Well, you know I try,” Trixie said with a falling tone, sarcastically trying to elicit sympathy. They both grinned at one another, and there was a pause. “So, what’s Starlight cooking? Where’s Spike?”

“Wh-... Oh, I don’t know. She’s just making some fruit salad, I believe. And I think Spike’s helping her. But…” Twilight rested her head on Trixie’s shoulder, looking for comfort. “I don’t know what to think of Spike, anymore.”

“I heard him shouting last night, I meant to ask you about it,” Trixie bent his neck over Twilight’s head and rubbed his cheek against her mane. She nodded in response, the sun’s rays now striking her hair in such a way that it sent Trixie’s heart aflutter. “Mm… I could have a talk with him, if you want me to.”

“No. I don’t think another talk is going to fix anything,” Twilight sighed and extended a wing around Trixie’s back. “I’m going to talk with Rarity today, before it hails. Maybe she’ll know more about what’s happening with Spike… You should try and get in by evening, by the way,” Twilight raised her head. “It’s already snowing, and it’ll hail before dark. Wear your heavy cloak when you leave.”

“I like the cold,” Trixie looked over, smirking with eyes closed.

“Trixie…”

“So you don’t have any idea of what’s going on with Spike? What were you talking about last night that made him yell?” queried Trixie, now resting his head on Twilight’s shoulder.

“I was trying to ask him if anything had gone on with Rarity, or if he was experiencing any new feelings,” Twilight confided in her wizard, hushing her voice in case they could be heard in the kitchen. Upon hearing experiencing any new feelings Trixie gave a few short chuckles. “Don’t laugh at that, Trixie. Things can be confusing for a young-” Twilight was interrupted by Trixie laughing a little harder. “Hmph! Okay, what do you talk to him about when he spends all that time with you?” Twilight asked, a little annoyed.

Trixie spent only a moment in any kind of real thought. “We mainly make fun of Big Macy-”

“Trixie!” Twilight jerked up her shoulder and sent the wizard’s head flying off of it. “How would you like it if somepony made fun of just because you-” Twilight stopped abruptly, catching herself. Trixie, who was laughing hard up until the last few words, now had a sober expression of no real emotion.

“Because I what, Twilight?” asked Trixie.

The kitchen door swung open and Starlight glided out, several bowls of diced and dressed fruit hovering above her. “Time for breakfast!”

Author's Note

I hope you've all been enjoying Hailstorms and Helping Hooves or, as I call it, Triple H. I wrote this short chapter with the main goal of hammering home an important aspect of Trixie, which I sincerely hope you've all picked up on. It's very important if I expect to paint Trixie in a sympathetic light later on. I've also tried to characterize Twilight a little closer to my vision.

I say, "My vision," as if it's some great work of art. Anyway, in The Village, part two the real drama will begin, and you'll all learn why my AU Trixie is known in some circles as 'history's greatest monster'.

The Village, part two

Chapter 3.5

“Cherry pie and a glass of milk,” demanded Trixie, and the waitress waddled off. The ponies of Ponyville were used to Trixie marching around and ordering them to do this or that, even before he held any position of power; what concerned the staff of the diner was that he’d shown up first thing in the morning, sat at the only booth without a window (next to the restroom), and only ordered dessert. Trixie sat there, slouched in his seat, still pouting over what Twilight had said that morning--and in front of Starlight and Spike, as if she was making an example out of him.

If that mare thinks she has any right to talk about my--and it’s only because she’s a princess now, it’s gone to her head--thinks she can talk that way about my mother and… and what she… It wasn’t like… It’s all her fault I even have to think about it right now!I’m beginning to wonder why I’m going through all this trouble in the first place, if she’s going to treat me like that. I never thought-... Hearing that kind of thing can’t be good for Spike.

Trixie had come come to the diner mainly to lay low until it was time to get down to business in town; getting to spite Twilight by breaking his diet was just a bonus. It would be a couple hours until Cheerilee and the students would be out of the schoolhouse for recess, then he would make his move to seize the last missing pieces of this puzzle. He had decided the night before to leave a few hours early. Even something like leaving just in time for recess would give Twilight too much information, Trixie felt, and the alicorn was probably out in town right now--stalking through the streets and just waiting to run into him. Just waiting to ruin all of his careful planning.

And she wouldn’t even realize it. I’m doing all of this for her, and she’ll never realize it. She wouldn’t even understand. Twilight thinks she can talk about… B-but… She doesn’t know the first thing about it. And if… She’ll never understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like.

Trixie sat up and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the cheap table and covering his face with one hoof, enough to hide his eyes but not his quivering lip. He thought he heard somepony in the kitchen having a conversation, and assumed that they were laughing about his pitiful display. Normally, he’d have worked himself up into a lather at the mere thought of it--but he took solace in knowing that this dive was about to go out of business. One of the reasons he had chosen to hide in it was because almost no-one else ever ate there. His understanding of the situation was that there was simply too much competition from Sugarcube Corner for the place to turn a profit. What was really embarrassing was that Sugarcube Corner only served dessert, and still stole the place’s business.

Not until he’d actually eaten at the diner did he realize that it’s failure was more probably a result of the sterile white color scheme, and the general malaise produced from sitting in a run-down dive which constantly reminded you that civilization is always in decline.

Trixie’s ruminations on Twilight’s insensitivity and the diner’s state of affairs were cut short by the clanging of porcelain on laminate. He uncovered his red, teary eyes to see a hunk of crusty bread oozing burgundy. The unicorn waitress set down the glass of milk with a thud, chewing gum and looking at her notepad as if there were anypony else to serve.

“Alright, hon. Just holler when you’re ready for the bill,” She said with an unusual twang for a unicorn. Trixie figured that she was probably from one of those backwaters southeast of Canterlot--south of where Starlight grew up with that hack of a court wizard back in the New Crystal Empire. What was his name? Trixie couldn’t remember.

The waitress took her eyes off the notepad just long enough to see Trixie looking down at the dessert with wet eyes. “Somethin’ wrong?” she asked sincerely, and with a hint of sympathy.

The wizard sniffed and said, “It’s just…” He paused. “The pie is so beautiful that I couldn’t-” The waitress scoffed and turned away, trotting back to the kitchen. Trixie smirked, snickering like colt, and tore into his dessert.

Rarity’s boutique was always vibrant and lively, no matter how bleak the weather was outside. Twilight sat on an ostentatious chaise lounge in Rarity’s bedroom, the mare herself laying languid on her silk duvet. There was little light shining into the room, partly due to snow having piled up on the boutique’s windows, but mostly because the clouds had drowned the sun in a sea of grey. Rarity had lit some candles, and Twilight was getting a little uncomfortable.

Rarity groaned, writhing on her bed and whining intermittently. Twilight had been visiting for only about thirty minutes, most of it over Rarity nursing a sliver of the cherry pie she had bought from the Cakes the other night. Now she was theatrically flailing around on her oversized bed, more out of histrionics than any stomach ache. Twilight had been trying to bring up the topic of Spike’s behavior, but Rarity shut her down at every turn--and now the alicorn was becoming suspicious.

“Why did you let me gorge myself? Now look at me!” Rarity whined, still squirming. “If you had some with me like I’d asked you, I wouldn’t have been so nervous--I’m a nervous eater, you know! Look at the state I’m in, oh…”

An incredulous Twilight looked at the wriggling unicorn, pursing her lips, “Well… It wouldn’t have felt right. I told you about the diet I’ve put-”

“A diet! That’s what I need, now--thanks to you,” Rarity tossed a playful look over to her friend, smirking.

Twilight gave a small smile in return, and a short laugh out of consideration. She relaxed herself on the the lounge chair, tactfully asking, “So, are you sure that Spike hasn’t been acting even the slightest bit-”

“He doesn’t seem any different to me, Twilight,” Rarity hastily interjected, seeming a little annoyed at being interrogated about Spike for the fourth time in a half-hour. “The poor dear, you’ve probably just let him spend too much time around Trixie. You know how emotional that stallion gets; it’s probably just rubbed off on my poor little Spikey,” Rarity took a moment from reclining to glance over at Twilight, who now had a poorly concealed frown. Rarity rolled her eyes and turned back over.

“Well, that’s one theory, Rarity. But your poor little Spikey does act differently around you than he does other ponies,” Twilight didn’t know why she thought speaking to Rarity about this was a good idea; she always took Spike’s side and stood up for him, even on non-contentious issues like this one. “And I don’t know how ‘emotional’ Trixie gets--in fact, he’s only tried to help me with Spi-”

“Please, darling, you’re always standing up for that spoiled colt of a stallion. I’ll never understand what you see in him. Even after what he did in Canterlot, you took his side! Unless… He doesn’t force you to do all this for him, does he?” said Rarity, pointedly trying distract Twilight. And, seeing as how Twilight only gasped and stammered angrily in response, it seemed to work.

“F-force me to-!? He’d nev-! I-I can’t-! That is not true!” Twilight stuttered, glaring at her exceedingly smug friend for only a few moments before pausing and regaining her composure. “You’ve really disappointed me, Rarity. And what’s saddest about it is that Trixie only has nice things to say about you,” Twilight looked up and away, self-righteously.

Rarity, still smiling derisively, mustered all the passive-aggressive venom in her voice and responded, “Only because I’m a unicorn, dear. You know how he’d feel about me if I were an earth pony, or a pegasus, or a don-”

“That’s enough! Trixie does not and would not ever discri-”

“Well, your Trixie does act differently around you than he does other ponies,” Like a tiger pouncing on it’s prey, Rarity had left Twilight in shock.

Only a few moments passed before Twilight could be seen stamping away from the boutique; she didn’t realize until a few minutes later that she’d fallen right into Rarity’s trap, and Twilight’s righteous indignation slowly faded into embarrassment. Not only had Rarity thrown the princess off her trail, she’d also made her look like an imbecile. But, some good did come of this exchange: Twilight was now fairly certain that, whatever was happening with Spike, Rarity had something to do with it. She also felt better about herself for defending Trixie--it made her shame from the debacle at breakfast sting a little less. She had been beating herself up the entire morning over humiliating her special somepony, and in front of everyone. She couldn’t forget the sight of Trixie, just sitting there and looking down while she berated him.

He’ll never trust me again, not after I… exposed him like that. And the way he tried to defend his mother, after… I must’ve made him feel like a fool.

Twilight was trotting a little more happily a few minutes after her kerfuffle at Rarity’s. She had decided to speak to her friend Fluttershy, this time without any ulterior motive like she tried to with Rarity--but if the issue of Spike’s behavior were to just come up in conversation, that’d be dandy. Along the way, she grinned and nodded to Mrs. Cake, who was helping her husband load what appeared to be boxes of festive foodstuffs onto a freshly-painted cart. Pinkie had told her that they would be opening a new gelateria inside Sugarcube corner, and that it would include sorbet. Twilight was looking forward to taking Trixie there to eat, once it opened.

I wonder if Trixie realizes how much better he’s been acting since I put him on his diet. Although, I’m not sure it’s right to say ‘he’s been acting better’, it’s not like he can help it. Maybe ‘feeling better’ would be a better way to put it.

If Snips and Snails had any social acumen, they’d have hated recess--but their inept blindness to their classmates alienating them had rendered them willing outcasts. They stood there, bumbling by a copse as Cheerilee scolded some fillies in the center of the playground. Normally in the wintertime, Cheerilee would have the schoolponies play inside for recess, but it was especially balmy that day. Snips and Snails were talking about some new overrated musician or an issue of some comic book when they heard a loud thud and some cracking foliage followed by swearing--which ended abruptly. They stepped around the dying bushes to find a heap of gaudy cloth flailing around which eventually revealed itself to be their old ‘friend’ Beatrix Lulamoon, and they were very excited about it.

“Ah, my miniscule minions, my gormless goons! Just the two colts I was coming to find,” Trixie scrambled to his hooves, doing his best to appear like a benevolent older brother--but really just looming over the two colts and speaking like a cartoon villain. “Listen, there’s no time to lose admiring me; I have a plan and I need your help.”

A few minutes later Trixie was the sole occupant of the Ponyville Schoolhouse, rifling through some file cabinets against the backdrop of screaming from the playground. If Twilight wouldn’t have known, Trixie would’ve just cast an invisibility spell and snuck in without Snips and Snails making fools of themselves--even if it would’ve been much less entertaining. Trixie was here, performing this scholastic espionage to patch the only hole in his plan: he didn’t know where Scootaloo lived. The court wizard could have well just gone down to the town hall and gotten the paperwork, but that would have left a paper trail for Twilight to follow. After only a few moments and flipping through files, thank to Cheerilee’s organizational skills, Trixie had found Scootaloo’s file.

His eyes darted out to the playground, hearing the commotion die down, then returned to the documents in the manilla folder. Some light emanated from the tip of his horn--a utility spell, Twilight wouldn’t ask about it--and he flipped through each sheet, searching for an address.

Those impudent little creatures, if I get caught in here I’ll--Oh! Here it is! Alright, alright, she lives in the bad part of town, no surprise… No mother, and here it says her father’s name is… Night Rider!? That’s the stupidest- Oh, no, it says Night Glider. Alright, well I suppose I have everything I need to-

The ambient noise of fillies and colts conversing was slowly travelling up to the school house’s side entrance, and Trixie fumbled around nervously, juggling the papers back into the folder and tossed it callously into the cabinet. He thought he heard the side door’s handle jiggling as he darted out of the front door.

“You know how Rarity can be, sometimes, Fluttershy. She doesn’t really feel that way,” Twilight and Fluttershy sat in a cozy little nook where the timid mare usually had her meals, but now it was being used for strategizing Twilight’s campaign on Spike’s odd behavior. “And yes, I am upset about what she said--but again, she didn’t mean it. What concerns me more is what she didn’t say.”

Fluttershy, oblivious to the insinuation, sat across from the princess and clasped her mug a little more snugly. “You and the girls always say that ‘Rarity just acts that way, sometimes’, but she’s never said anything like that to me,” If there can exist a look that is both concessive and incredulous, Fluttershy had it. “Are you sure that your concern for Spike isn’t just… affecting your view of your conversation with Rarity? I don’t want to say that you’re paranoid, but-”

“Every time I tried to bring up Spike,” Twilight leaned in, tilting her head to accentuate her point non-aggressively. “She would change the subject. And when she finally realized that I wouldn’t leave it alone, she made me leave. What am I supposed to think when I can get anypony to talk to me about Spike, but Rarity won’t say a word-” Twilight suddenly looked a little surprised, shaking her head as she realized how ridiculous she sounded predicating an argument on what someone didn’t say. Fluttershy was leaning back, huddling up in the end of her booth even at Twilight’s relatively gentle tirade. “I’m sorry, Fluttershy. I’m just worried about Spike; I’ve even been reading books on adolescent psychology to try and ascertain why Spike’s been acting this way, and… I’m just worried.”

Fluttershy slowly uncoiled and returned to a relatively relaxed position, eyeing her friend a little more sympathetically. “You aren’t afraid that Rarity’s been…”

The few ponies that knew Trixie intimately were all familiar with his sense of humor, which was primarily composed of cruel schadenfreude, hateful diatribes against other ponies, and insufferable surrealism that only he understood--the latter having led him to ‘hide’ poorly behind dead bushes next to the rundown hovel where Night Glider and his daughter Scootaloo lived. After his bizarre fit of laughter, Trixie realized he had yet to devise any real course of action to take upon arrival at the house (the address, of which, he took from the paperwork he reconnoitered).

I could just walk in, he’s probably at work in that... shoe factory or whatever it is… But he might not be, and these types are a violent sort… What was it I used to do when I broke into houses? Oh-well, hm… I’ll think of something to tell her later. Just a minor divination…

Trixie’s horn lit up with an electric aura of rose. The ring at the base of his horn emitted a small hum for only the first few moments of the spell, and the wizard shut his eyes. Relatively simple for Trixie, the divination spell ‘Detect Equinoid’ was meant to make readily apparent any equine lifeform in the caster’s immediate spatial cognition. That is to say that Trixie would be able to simply think about the house and know if any living ponies were in it. There weren’t, and Trixie finished weaving the spell. He trotted up to the door and tried to turn the knob magically, finding it to be locked. Despite fancying himself a great mastermind of complex schemes, Trixie always found himself foiled by such great obstacles as locked doors.

But a sorcerer as wise and studied as Beatrix Lulamoon always had a recourse in the face of this trying circumstance: whenever Trixie had to break out of some fascists’ holding cell, or when he had locked himself out of his cart, the wizard would use another simple spell--the transmutation ’Knock’. In layman’s terms, it unlocked doors. Normally, a pony in his position might do this with some trepidation--knowing that Twilight would certainly ask why such a spell would be cast (and especially after a spell meant to detect life, like the occupants of a house for example). But going into town and having to talk to other ponies was, in Trixie’s eyes, a great struggle--and he felt that he’d gone through too much to give in now. Without a second thought--his horn glowed and the ring hummed, and he was inside the house.

Trixie wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see in the little house. Scratched and punctured drywall, a dirty brown carpet, some-assembly-required furniture, and very few pictures. The pictures were what intrigued him the most, they were all just family photos--and none of them recent--in cheap frames and behind cracked glass. Trixie, in a rare moment of introspection, ruminated on his own childhood. He might’ve had an unhappy upbringing, but at least it was in a spacious, well-decorated abode. This squalid one-story was just depressing, and totally lacking in nuanced decor. But any sympathy or pity Trixie might’ve felt for Scootaloo (or Night Glider, for that matter) quickly morphed into disdain for the bleak existence of those he felt beneath his station. The unicorn stepped over to a lonely table and knocked off the cheap lamp occupying it, then he left the house and forgot about it.

The Ponyville bowling alley had a much more inviting atmosphere than that bloated cadaver of a diner, but it wasn’t especially lively for this time of day. The only occupants being the owner (tending the bar), Trixie, a nervous Mr. Cake, and some colt cutting class to play the arcade cabinets in the back. The former three were standing at the bar, Trixie taking a break from his solitary lane to condescendingly lecture the other two about something of no real consequence. That having been said, Trixie thought he was just having a friendly chat.

“So then, the question becomes not how to relay the coordinates, but what coordinate system to utilize such as this hypothetical civilization might objectively locate us. The answer, of course, would be transmitting our location using a star-map predicated on the radiation from quasars, as opposed to an equestria-centric system using the celestial equator--but even these quasar-based maps would be rendered obsolete once the supermassive black holes at the-”

“Yeah, y-you know--as fascinating as this sounds, I’m going to level with you Mr- uh, Court Wizard Lulamoon,” Mr. Cake glanced back at his half-empty cart of comestibles, nervously trying to extricate himself from the discourse. “I have a lot of deliveries left to make, and I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” said the baker, backing away with a fake smile plastered on his yellow face. Trixie and, surprisingly, the owner both scowled and turned away as the baker left.

“Slack jawed, pig-ignorant…” muttered Trixie, under his breath, and he looked back at his lane with some apprehension.

“Don’t worry about him, Trix, he’s just an earth pony,” The owner, a unicorn whose name Trixie couldn’t recall, tried to offer some comfort to the wizard. He looked at Trixie, then the lane he was focused on. “Somethin’ wrong, pal? Do you not like bowling?”

“I like it well enough,” Trixie looked over to the other unicorn. “But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to really play it. You see, I--and I’m not complaining, I wasn’t brought up to complain--but I…” Trixie trailed off, looking slightly askew from the owner, before returning to the sentence with a haughty tone. “My superior, noble breeding has left me with a physiological quirk, you see: my legs, like those of some of the greatest generals and scholars, twist slightly out of their… orbit, you know--what I mean to say is that-”

“Your knees are messed up, and your hooves point out more than they should. Yeah, my nephew has that,” interjected the owner, leaving Trixie quiet and nodding with a blank expression. “They’ve got him in leg braces for it. Anyhow, don’t feel bad if you can’t get the hoofwork down for bowling because it hurts--you’re a court wizard, not a bowler. Just have fun,” The owner, smirking, turned and stepped out from behind the bar, nodding at Trixie before heading to presumably have a talk with the colt in the back.

Trixie walked over to his isolated lane, his still blank expression belying his brooding over the mention of leg braces. He stayed there for a couple hours, bowling poorly and alone.

A cacophony of clicking tongues, slurring speech and slinging spittle on the filthy hardwood floor. A faint aroma of stale urine and stagnant water, evoking the image of a bloated corpse floating face down up a river in the mind of the increasingly disturbed Beatrix Lulamoon. It seemed that the descent of the sun was directly proportionate to the freakish and obscene behavior of the stallions shambling around him. He sat strategically at the bar, bending his shoulders in such a way that he thought it would convince the drunken patrons to leave him alone.

All Trixie had to do was wait for Night Glider to come in and have his usual glass of whatever it was he drank, then he’d set in motion the last wheels of his scheme. But even waiting was proving to be a challenge; the worst of the day. The grime and stench were the least of the ordeal, it was the ever present speech--the randomly oscillating hum of twenty, thirty stallions all talking and laughing and singing louder than everypony else. Pure torture to a pony of Beatrix’s disposition. Trixie thought about having a drink to take the edge off, but the idea of reducing himself to the the level of the repulsive rabble surrounding him put him off it. Besides, it probably would’ve only made him more likely to make a scene over it, not lessen the pain of the noise.

Trixie sat up and leaned on the bar, covering his ears with his hooves and closing his eyes in such a way as to not draw attention. He maneuvered his nose over the glass of water he’d been nursing and tried to think of Twilight, which only reminded him of his humiliation at breakfast and further upset him. Then, like an angel sounding a trumpet, the door to the tavern popped open and he quickly glanced over to see a dark yellow pegasus step through, bringing Trixie some relief that he could at least get on with his business there. Trixie sat up, uncovering his ears and moving the glass of water aside.

“Well, well, well--A pegasus! Look, boys! A pegasus! You know, I don’t think they serve grape juice here,” taunted Trixie, putting on his best idea of an earth pony accent. The actual earth ponies, who held Trixie in higher regard than one might expect, laughed at the dig against Night Glider and a few even joined in, shouting their own abuse at the pegasus.

A common point of contention in bars across Equestria was whether earth ponies or unicorns had the higher tolerance for alcohol, the most cited evidence for either argument being that earth ponies drank more than unicorns, but unicorns imbibed more potent spirits than earth ponies. However, common ground was always found in the belief that of all pony races, pegasuses had the poorest ability to hold their liquor. Night Glider, no matter his position on the subject, seemed to take umbrage at the mocking and proceeded to spew his own invective toward Trixie and unicorns in general. If Trixie hadn’t wanted this reaction, the exchange would’ve almost certainly devolved into name-calling and barbarism; but Night Glider had fallen right into the wizard’s trap.

Trixie wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the sun had abandoned the now dark and rumbling skies and the number of ponies in the bar had gradually declined until only he, Night Glider, and a hand full of pathetic has-beens remained. The wizard was too focused on putting up the act of both drunkenness and sociability itself to keep track of time. He had drank his potion some time ago, and he didn’t know how much longer he had until it wore off and he actually became inebriated. Luckily, his plan was working and Night Glider--who was especially intoxicated--had forgotten that the drinking contest had started with an exchange of insults and was now of the belief that he and Trixie were old friends. The plastered pegasus was wobbling about in his seat, complaining about something and Trixie was looking away, making some strange face and clearly annoyed about something.

“I… I-you and me, Rick, things weren’t like this when we were growing up. Well, you probably grew up in Canterlot or someplace or...But, I mean, it’d still apply, I guess. Anyway, yeah, nopony went around whining and moaning about ‘oh, this colt’s daddy smacked him once, give us some bits’. No way, Tr-Tri-Rick--No way, Rick. I can’t stand those little pantywaists, thinking they deserve to have… Just because they got, I got beat like an old rug when I was--And the participation trophies! They, they’re-... Rick?” Night Glider was blathering on the way he had been most of the night, being skillfully guided on course by Trixie’s suggestions, but stopped upon seeing the wizard’s impatience.

Trixie’s expression quickly returned to normal upon the call and he leapt at the chance to reciprocate, intentionally slurring his speech as he took a drink, “Yeah, I know what you mean… Kids today--and that stupid f-fair… More like a pity party than a fair, if you ask me. And besides, it’s just so they can get-”

Night Glider leaned forward, nearly falling out of his chair, and said, “Yeah! Yeah! It’s all just for a hoofout, and so those socialist unicorns sitting behind their desks in Canterlot can push their political agenda down our-”

“Yeah, I-Yeah, and like today, for example,” Trixie interjected before the pegasus could get started on another tirade. “I was walking down to the bowling alley and some little pegasus filly came up to me with some sob story, asking for money--said her dad’s punishments were abuse, and kept asking for money. Said she was poor because her father was a stupid factory worker.”

Night Glider’s expression was unsettling to Trixie, and he almost reconsidered this course of action. Unfortunately, he continued.

“Yeah, this fair’s bringing out the worst in everypony, Night Glider. Even little fillies--and it was just a filly, talking about abuse and asking for hoofouts. When I was a little fil- Colt, I mean, I didn’t even know the word abuse. And she, uh... Little… orange filly, I think. Doesn’t really matter, I guess. She just rode off on her scooter afterwards. Seems to me that if her father really were so awful, she wouldn’t have a scooter to go around on--but what do I know? Shame, anyhow. Ungrateful, is what she was… What do you think, Night Glider?” Trixie believed these overt and clumsy insinuations to be the height of subtlety and social finesse, but Night Glider was so out of it that Trixie’s plan seemed to work, as the pegasus stood up and excused himself with a hellish grimace before lockstepping out of the bar.

Beatrix Lulamoon, being neither empathetic on any level nor particularly introspective to even the smallest degree, stood up and silently congratulated himself for fulfilling his own dark prognostications on the fate of an innocent child. With an arrogant flourish and a self-satisfied grin, he danced out of the bar and into the cold street.

Trixie sauntered into Twilight’s bedroom, the mare herself nowhere to be seen. He dropped his travel bags and scepter by his side of the bed, he’d return everything to it’s place in his tower tomorrow; right now he was cold, hungry, distressed and his twisted legs hurt--he just wanted to sleep. Unfortunately, fate was not kind to the wizard, and neither was Twilight.

“I spoke to Cheerilee, Trixie. She hasn’t seen you all day,” Twilight appeared, leaning against the doorframe and speaking with a coolly aggravated tone. “And are you going to tell me why you cast knock and detect? Most importantly: are you going to tell me why you’re only now getting in at-” A small orb of light formed at Twilight’s horn and she looked over to the hanging clock. “Twenty minutes to midnight?” The princess stared expectantly at her discontent illusionist.

Trixie didn’t say a word--didn’t even look at her. With magic he slid the sheets and blanket down, slipping into the bed and closing his eyes. This display of insolence was not particularly conducive to the sleep he seemed to desire, as Twilight quickly developed an expression of displeasure. She stopped leaning against the door frame and took a step in, planting her hooves.

“Trixie. Get up.”

Annoyed eyes of rose cracked open, and Trixie gave an extremely audible sigh before sluggishly rising out of bed. He stood there, glaring at the frosty window, waiting.

“Come here,” ordered Twilight, levitating Trixie’s possessions over to her escritoire for later inspection.

Trixie marched over indignantly to the mare, never looking directly at her. There was a short pause, and he could feel Twilight’s eyes upon him--waiting for him to speak first. “What?” asked Trixie, sternly.

Twilight sighed, her anger morphing into disappointment. “Trixie… What-...? Trixie, look at me,” Trixie could detect sadness in her voice, and his own expression softened as he glanced up at Twilight, then back down. “Trixie, just tell me the truth,” sighed Twilight, rubbing the wizard’s wet mane.

Trixie, of course, thought up a lie. With his most sympathy-evoking voice, Trixie pleaded, “Well, I tried to talk to Cheerilee--but I got so nervous at the thought of seeing those schoolponies again after so long and… later, I was walking alone to the bowling alley and heard a group of ponies about to turn the corner and I was... afraid. So I looked around and saw an abandoned shed I could hide in, but the door was locked--so I had to cast knock. Then, after a few minutes I cast detect equinoid to see if they were waiting outside for me and-”

“Trixie, you cast detect equinoid before you cast knock,” Twilight said with a little more sternly. “Look at me,” The alicorn rubbed her weary face then planted her hoof on the floor loudly. Trixie looked back up at her, exasperated, and locked his eyes with her’s. “I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me the truth; why did you cast those spells--why did you really go to town?” asked Twilight.

Trixie paused, never breaking eye contact and growing visibly perturbed. “The truth is that… I know it sounds stupid, but I thought Cheerilee might have been sabotaging the fair on purpose. So I waited until recess was out, and I cast those spells to break into the schoolhouse to see if she and the weather service were-”

“Trixie,” Twilight halted the ridiculous speech, glaring at the stallion. She paused, taking a deep breath and looking into his shifting eyes. Then her horn sparked, and the gold ring around Trixie’s horn glowed, sending him into a static rage. “Until you learn to be more truthful with me, you’ve lost your magic privileges-” Twilight dictated, hesitating once she saw Trixie’s face contort into a furious scowl.

“No! No! No!” Trixie screamed, stamping his hooves and stammering like a child throwing a tantrum. “Y-you can’t-! Y-you c-ca-!” wailed the thrashing stallion, shaking his head violently as tears welled up in his tired eyes. Twilight was unmoved by the display, taking another deep breath and looking back into the hall. Twilight opened the door to Trixie’s bedroom as the stallion himself screamed and howled and threw his fit.

“Trixie, go to your room until you calm down,” Twilight said calmly, stepping aside to clear the doorway. Trixie stood there for a second, blubbering and whining before he complied and stormed off to his quarters. They had both been through this before.

After she heard Trixie’s door slam, Twilight sighed. She wasn’t upset with her wizard’s childish behavior; she knew he couldn’t help it. She dragged herself over to the satchels waiting on her desk and started sifting through them, Trixie’s ambient wailing filling the room. While he always had these meltdowns, they had become less common since Twilight set him on his special diet, so she was especially sad this had to happen tonight. More incomprehensible screaming and the occasional crash could be heard as Twilight took Trixie’s magic scepter and locked it away in an enchanted chest. She reminded herself that it wasn’t Trixie’s fault that he could only deal with stress this way.

The crying and screaming was bad enough, but Twilight still flinched when she heard the crashes and bangs erupting from her stallion’s embattled bedroom. He only did this once or twice when they were growing up (in front of Twilight, at least) and it never really shook her up; but once they started living together, and entered a romantic relationship, Twilight realized how often Trixie would have these episodes. At first she thought that they were just immature tantrums as a result to some injury to his famous ego, but when she learned of the true purpose behind these meltdowns it shattered her. After that, these rages shook Twilight to her core; it was as if Trixie was a different pony, but she knew that she had to stay calm through them, just as much for herself as for Trixie’s sake.

Twilight partially blamed herself, yelling at Trixie during breakfast probably set it all in motion. That, combined with having to see all those ponies in town is most likely what caused the episode. Taking away his magic was just the catalyst. Twilight rifled through the bags some more, finding a small blue bottle and putting it in a drawer for later examination. Besides the bottle, she didn’t recognize anything out of the ordinary in the wizard’s belongings.

As she finished returning Trixie’s belongings to their place in his satchel, Twilight noticed the pounding and bawling from the wizard’s room had died down, now replaced with soft sobbing. She sighed and took several more deep breaths, stretching out her wings and composing herself. She left her room and stepped up to Trixie’s door, wrapping her hoof around the door handle. Cracking the door open, she saw her special somepony sitting on the ground, his head in his hooves and ears pricked up as he abruptly stopped rocking. Twilight carefully stepped inside and sat down quietly next to Trixie.

She wrapped her wings and hooves around him, frowning as she felt how cold and sweaty he was, sitting there in the middle of the floor. Trixie was wheezing, little whines escaping his throat as his heart pounded. Twilight nuzzled him and, rubbing his matted mane, kissed him on the cheek. “Shh…” She held him a little closer, starting to slowly rock back and forth with him. Trixie’s pulse gradually returned to normal, and his sobbing gasps decreased in frequency. “It’s okay…” Twilight dried his eyes with one wing, nuzzling him as his breathing became less erratic.

“Trixie…” Twilight kissed her sobbing wizard. “We don’t have to talk about what you did in town,” She hugged him a little tighter. “But… you’re always talking about how ‘free’ you used to be--but when I try to give you more freedom, like use your magic,” Trixie seemed to be listening, but was still crying and looking off in the distance. “You go off and do things like this--and I know that you only do what you do because you think it’s right--but,” Twilight ran her hooves along Trixie’s mane. “I’m responsible for your actions, Trixie. Now do you understand why I had to take your magic away, for a while?” She craned her neck around to try and catch Trixie’s eyes.

“I-I understand…” stammered Trixie, teary eyed and now hugging Twilight back.

Twilight smiled. “I love you, Trixie.”

“I love you, too.”

Twilight began to stand, bringing Trixie up with her. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then we’ll go to bed.”

About a half hour later things had calmed down, but residual discomfort hung in the air of Twilight’s bedroom. The alicorn herself was laid back on some pillows, reading some thick historical fiction novel. Trixie never cared to read much fiction, preferring only existentialism when he did--but he was in no state to read any book, fiction or otherwise. He was sat up, wearing polka dot cotton pajamas and gently rocking himself, Twilight occasionally rubbing his back. It always took some time for Trixie to return to normal after one of his outbursts, but Twilight was just glad it was over.

The room was warmly lit by a single candle on Twilight’s bedside table, serenely flickering as the disquiet melted away. The hail had stopped pinging off the frosty windows, and the only sound to be heard was snow gently patting the roof. The wind would occasionally howl off in the distance, like the echoing twang of a sorrowful guitar. Twilight looked over to the wintry expanse beyond her windows, smiling as she magically closed the drapes over one, but leaving the window nearest to her and Trixie unobscured. She sat her book down on her table and slid up to her stallion, now rocking rhythmically with eyes closed as Twilight wrapped her hooves around him and nuzzled his neck.

“We’ve come a long way, Trixie,” Twilight kissed him on the cheek then returned to nuzzling his neck, hugging him more tightly as his breaths became deeper. “Mhm...Feeling better? Wearing your favorite pajamas... Here, let me give you a massage,” Twilight moved her hooves up to Trixie’s shoulders, wrapping her wings around him as a substitute for the embrace. Hugs and holding seemed to help Trixie when he got like this, Twilight had noticed. Trixie seemed to relax at the deep rubbing, opening his eyes and looking down. “Talk to me, Trixie,” Twilight brushed Trixie’s curly white mane to one side and kissed his neck, the stallion himself only mumbling in response. “How was your day in town? Did you talk to any of your friends?” Twilight asked sweetly, knowing she was getting onto the topic that set Trixie off.

“No,” muttered Trixie, almost starting to rock until he felt Twilight’s wings around him. She could feel him get a little more tense at the mention of his actions in town. He was now looking up, furtively glancing around. Twilight stopped rubbing his shoulders and brought her hooves around his chest instead, bringing him into a soothing embrace.

“It’s okay”, reassured Twilight, resting her head on Trixie’s shoulder. “We don’t have to talk about it, right now,” Twilight felt Trixie’s breaths getting shallow as she looked over to her bedside table, wondering if she should continue. “In fact, I don’t think you should go to town anymore unless I’m with you.” Twilight pressed herself against Trixie, hunched over as his muscles contracted and eyes clenched shut. He brought his head down and his hooves over it.

“No! N-n-n-n-agh!” Trixie screamed, shaking his head wildly and managing to rock even with Twilight latched onto him. He thought he heard her say something, but he was in the throes of another fit. Trixie started tapping his hooves against the back of his head, therapeutically, and it only took a moment before they escalated into full blown strikes against his skull.

“Trixie!” Twilight’s hooves shot back up to his shoulders, clamping down on his arms and jerking backward so that they both fell back onto the bed. Trixie squirmed and shook, trying to throw Twilight off of him, but she had his arms restrained in a hard embrace and his head pinned down by her own. His breaths were quick and strained, and he yelped in distress as tears streamed down his contorted face. Twilight had to bite back her own tears, trying her best to comfort the jerking stallion with firm nuzzling and soothing shushes. “Trixie…” Twilight shut her eyes, feeling Trixie starting to hyperventilate. “Trixie…” The wizard’s thrashing lessened as his crying became more pained. “Trixie, breathe.”

The Road

Author's Note

Hey there, reader. I hope you're enjoying Hailstorms and Helping Hooves, but I feel the need to go off on a little tangent here (as if I don't do it enough in the story). There's a saying, "Show, don't tell", and while I do my best to adhere to it, I don't know if I'm very good at showing--so I'm going to use this opportunity to tell a little bit. If you don't want to meta-game, just skip this and get on to the story.

I feel as if some people might think that I haven't handled the theme of abuse with as much reverence or gravity as I ought to, but this is actually intentional for two reasons. The first being that, like I mentioned in my blog post about the story, I try to alter the narrator's tone and emotion depending on which character is the focus of the scene. That's to say that the narrator reflects that character's thoughts and feelings. Now, Scootaloo's abusive relationship with her father has only been seen through Trixie, who only views it in superficial ways and only contemplates it as a vehicle for his own self service--so the narrator doesn't really care about it either.

This brings us to the second reason. Scootaloo's abuse isn't meant to be the crux of the story, but a driving force for later conflict and falling action. More importantly, it's a powerful locus from which I might explore an integral aspect of Trixie's character: that he's a moral idiot. That is to say that he cannot, and has no way to tell right from wrong or good from evil. That he depends on Twilight as a moral compass (among other things). That he's only a protagonist (or at least an antihero) when he has Twilight to guide his actions.

The Road

Chapter Four

Trixie just laid there. He kept his eyes closed, no sun to kiss them if they opened, and enjoyed the bittersweet melancholy of a bleak morning. Twilight wasn’t lying next to him, but Trixie could feel the warmth she left, smell the fleeting aroma of her mane. It was her leaving that roused him to consciousness, starting with Spike beckoning her outside the room. They were whispering now, just outside the bedroom, voices muffled but betrayed by the slightly open door. Trixie tried to block it out, unconcerned with the early-morning intrigue. He couldn’t. Twilight always told him he had sensitive ears. He flipped over onto his side, straddling the warm impression Twilight had left and pressing his head into the mattress.

Twilight and Spike continued muttering to each other, accompanied by either the folding or unfolding of paper. Trixie couldn’t tell. He was gradually getting more upset, not only at the incessant whispering but at the idea that he and Twilight wouldn’t wake up together the way they normally do. One of the few joys he regularly derived anymore was awaking to the gentle susurrations of morning, opening his eyes to see Twilight sitting up and smiling at him the way she does; and that was only on normal mornings, not like this one. But Spike had gone and ruined it. Trixie tried to banish these thoughts, but they lingered in the back of his mind.

It had to be this morning that Spike decided to wreck, the morning after one of his… Trixie didn’t like to think about those, but Twilight was always especially nice to him the morning after one. For all the trouble he was going through to convince her that he was a big, strong stallion, Trixie loved it when Twilight babied him. She’d wake him with nuzzling and kisses on the horn, those mornings, and cradle his head in her arms as his eyes fluttered open. Then she’d soothe him, stroke his mane and massage his ego with long speeches about how talented and smart he was, and especially how brave he was for living with his various troubles--both real and imagined. And after that, any amount of cuddling and serenading and other acts of affection might occur until, eventually, Twilight would ask him if he was hungry. Regardless to his answer, they’d stride down to the kitchen, Trixie clasped snugly under Twilight’s wing, where he would sit in his chair and watch Twilight prepare him a breakfast to specifically appeal to his sweet tooth. Those mornings, the world was alright with Trixie.

But this was not one of those mornings. The wizard flipped back over to his original position, facing the door, when the conversation outside the bedroom ended. Twilight stepped gingerly back into the bedroom, the sound of tiny claws sluggishly stumbling off beyond the door. She slid up next to the still dormant Trixie, and he could feel her gentle breath on his face before being nuzzled a little more firmly than he would’ve liked. He brought his hoof up and draped it over Twilight’s neck, opening his eyes.

“I’m awake,” Trixie started to sit up, but Twilight draped her own hoof over his stomach and kissed him once. She levitated up an open letter, hurried words scrawled across it. Trixie ignored it, his mind occupied with more important matters like how Twilight intended to pamper and coddle him that day.

“We’re going to the hospital today, Trixie. I’m going to go take my shower, then you can take yours,” Twilight stated, trying to use the same saccharine voice she normally would on a morning like that one, but it was no comfort to Trixie. He thought that the hospital trip, like most things, was about him--and tried to extract more information as his stomach started tying itself in a knot.

“W-what about Spike and Starlight?” Trixie eked out in the calmest voice he could muster, terrible thoughts running through his mind that his special somepony had finally had enough of his meltdowns and was putting him on medication.“What about their showers?” He was hoping that Spike had just fallen on some glass or something.

“They’re going to stay here, you and I are the only ones who need to go,” Twilight nuzzled Trixie, who was now growing visibly worried. “Rainbow wrote that I need to be there, and Scootaloo likes you--so I thought it might cheer her up if you came,” Trixie had only a moment of relief before the gravity of the statement struck him, his expression now one of abject fear. “Don’t worry, Trixie, I’m sure she’ll be just fine. You’re so sweet to worry,” comforted Twilight, not realizing the truth behind the wizard’s fright. She nuzzled him more gently before retracting and looking him in the eyes caringly. “You do feel well enough to go, don’t you?”

“Uh, a-actually, there’s something I have to do in town today--this morning, actually,” Trixie stammered, sitting up and shifting his eyes away from Twilight’s. He tried to slide out of bed and onto his hooves, but Twilight boxed him in with her own. Looking into his eyes again, still caring but a little more stern, she said,

“Trixie… Have you forgotten our talk last night? You can’t go to Ponyville unless I’m with you,” Trixie looked away, but Twilight shifted her head to follow his gaze. “If you tell me why you need to go to town, we’ll go together after we leave the hospital…” There was an air about Trixie as if he was going to respond, but he remained silent, and looked straight down to avoid Twilight’s eyes. They spent a couple minutes like that, Twilight leaning over Trixie as he stared down like a dejected child, until she sighed and hugged him. Nestling his head onto her shoulder, Trixie rubbed her side softly and tentatively--he was unsure if Twilight was angry or disappointed, he always found it difficult to read situations like that. Reassured by the sound her breathing, he came to the decision that he’d just ask her.

“Are you m-”

“I’m going to take my shower now, Trixie,” Twilight slowly slid off of Trixie, stepping back toward the door. “We need to get started early, so you might have to shave a couple hours off of your shower this morning… Were you going to ask me something?” Trixie, not quite able to decipher Twilight’s intent with her statement about his lengthy showers due to an ambiguous (to him) tone and expression, found discretion to be the better part of valor.

“No.”

“Oh, well… Okay,” Twilight leaned over to the nervous wizard, giving him a quick nuzzle and a kiss. “Try and get some rest while I’m in the shower, Trixie. I don’t think you get enough sleep,” Twilight gently urged before trotting off and out of the bedroom. Trixie just sat there for a few minutes, no real thoughts running through his head. Wind whistled outside, and Trixie briefly entertained the idea of rocking back and forth before admonishing himself for the mere idea of it. The feelings of security and comfort he derived from the motion unnerved him on a conscious level . Ever since he was a colt, he’d always seen madness depicted in art and literature as a sunken-eyed stallion in a corner, rocking. He hated himself for it, especially when he found himself doing it instinctively. But Twilight never understood, she was always trying to convince him to sit up and rock in front of her, rock with her, saying that it was nothing to be ashamed of--but how would she know? This line of thought inexorably led to the subject of the prior night’s meltdown, and Trixie promptly dropped it.

Trixie turned and fell back onto the bed, shrouding himself with the sheet. Now, more appropriately, he began to consider the terrible conundrum he’d allowed to ensnare him. His plan hadn’t quite backfired, yet, and it had actually worked--the problem being that it had worked too well. Night Glider wasn’t meant to put the little filly in the hospital, only rough her up to the point she couldn’t blame it on her scooter--maybe even break her scooter for good measure, but this was too far. Besides, even if that were the case, it wasn’t like Trixie could waltz down to the school house and say, What’re these bruises? No, Twilight had gone and spoiled that, and now it only added to the disarray. Trixie thought for a moment of just scrambling down there to Night Glider’s house and getting beaten while Twilight was in the shower; a battered stallion who fought out of compassion isn’t quite the same as a triumphant hero, but it might work. Trixie came to the decision that it would be counterintuitive to the plan’s primary goal by just making Twilight pity him--besides, Trixie didn’t like getting beaten, even if it was for some midnight delight.

Trixie wondered if Twilight would have let him take that shower with her.

Starlight was trying her best to act like it was just another morning, sitting down in the kitchen and flipping through the old newspaper as if a raving lunatic hadn’t spent half the night shrieking like a tortured animal. Among Spike, Twilight and her family, Trixie’s episodes were something of an open secret; only mentioned through euphemisms in private letters between Twilight and Cadance, or Twilight and her mother. Starlight, though, had no idea what had originated the pained screams that pierced the night prior. This was the first time it had happened since she moved into the castle--for all she knew, she was the only living thing left in the place. The homogeneously grey and dull sky outside the window provided a little comfort, found in the grim normalcy of that particularly depressing winter, but it wasn’t enough to halt the rising fear in her chest. Despite the increasing urge to track down whatever remained of her housemates, Starlight just sat there, eyes transfixed to the newspaper and making no attempt to read it--instead opting to flip through each page until the comfort of the morning rut silenced the clarion call to investigation. To Starlight, it was becoming apparent that the comfort would never come. Hearing the gentle clink of a door opening, Starlight’s eyes snapped over to it.

“Twilight, you’re alive!” Starlight almost caught herself, realizing the absurdity of the proclamation just a moment too late. The princess, who was patting her mane with a plush, patterned towel, offered in return an equally amused and bemused expression. Casually walking over to a set of cabinets with a smirk, it took only a moment for Twilight to piece together the statement with the events of the previous night. Halting abruptly, with one hoof on a cabinet’s handle and her smirk gone, she said,

“Oh, you mean… Don’t worry about that, Starlight--it was just Trixie. He had a hard time yesterday. Well, I assume he did, anyway,” Twilight turned back to the cabinet, opening it and levitating out a few little bottles until she found the one for which she was presumably searching. Magically examining the contents, and ignoring a shocked Starlight, “And he didn’t take his calcium yesterday.”

“Twilight!” exclaimed Starlight, snapping the princess to attention as she slowly paced up to her with a worried and sympathetic look. “That isn’t normal! There’s no excuse for a stallion to scream and-”

“Stop, Starlight. You don’t understand,” Twilight shook her head dismissively, turning back to the cabinet and replacing the bottles. Starlight, who was looking on confusedly, started to speak before being cut off by Twilight. “He… Trixie…” Twilight looked up at the cabinet, closing it and letting her eyes linger there. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you about that… that, the other day. Now you’re going to think Trixie’s a freak, and it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have told you-”

“Twilight.”

“I’m… Listen, it really isn’t his fault. Any of it. Anyway, about what happened… Trixie’s--and don’t mention this to him, just like the other things we’ve talked about, but… Okay,” Twilight turned to Starlight, looking around as she furtively strode up to her, more to avoid looking at the mare than seeing if anyone was around. In a hushed, vulnerable tone, “Trixie’s... He’s, well, he’s--And he’ll tell you otherwise, but he has a… condition, and.... Anyway,” Twilight looked up, at the window, then back down. “There’s a lot to it but… Those tant- meltdowns, I mean. He has those meltdowns because--and he can’t help it, so,” Twilight looked up and into Starlight’s eyes, imploringly. “Don’t...Just…” Twilight looked back down, shutting her eyes and silently chastising herself for the stammering stream of broken sentences. She could feel Starlight’s expectant eyes rolling up and down her, growing more intense with every lost word. “Because he really can’t--his brain can’t process certain stim-”

“Twilight, stop,” said Starlight, softly but with a veiled austerity. “You can’t keep making excuses for him,” Starlight plead, standing straight and slightly shaking her head with each word. Twilight looked up gently, eyes wide and her face devoid of emotion; motionless but belying great animation in her heart. “You don’t have to hide it from me, Twilight. I’ve only spent a few weeks living here, but I know how he is, I know how he acts. If he was angry and started getting violent, just tell me; don’t make up these stories about-”

“No, Starlight, you stop,” commanded Twilight with a sternness she usually only reserved for Trixie. The princess stood up, an inch or so taller than Starlight (which she accentuated to add a little more gravity to her words). “I misjudged you, Starlight,” Twilight shifted her weight to her front hooves, looking up and away as she delivered the castigation. In this, her Canterlot upbringing was clearly evident, as she drew on her own memories of her mother’s scoldings and Trixie’s egotistical speeches to recreate their poses. “Clearly, I’ve been failing as your teacher if you can’t even forgive ponies for actions and circumstances beyond their-”

“Are you serious?” burst Starlight, somewhere between a loud question and a jarring shout, with extreme disbelief in her eyes. The outburst shocked Twilight out of her posturing, and she looked on with apprehension as Starlight continued. “You’re always doing this! You’re always defending Trixie for this ab-appalling behavior, and he never stops. I’ve seen the way he speaks to you and Spike when he’s mad, and the way he-” Starlight’s voice got a little less intense, gradually, and Twilight relaxed before attempting to interrupt--but Starlight got a second wind halfway through the tirade and started to shout again. “And it’s, oh! Oh! It’s only- I’ve only been here for two and a half weeks, and he’s already threatened to kill himself! Twice! Twilight, that is not normal! But you’re trying to tell me that-” Starlight kept listing her examples of the wizard’s ‘appalling behavior’, her volume once again starting to fall gradually. Twilight, who had been silent until Trixie’s regular and melodramatic threats of suicide had been brought up, tried to interject.

“Well, we all deal with sadness in our own way, Starlight,” said Twilight, half joking. While they terrified her at first, after almost three years of Trixie’s suicide threats she’d caught on that they were mostly just cruel practical jokes he liked to play. They usually consisted of him taking off his cape or sash and wrapping it around his neck after either Twilight or Spike didn’t indulge one of his narcissistic notions, then he’d stand on a chair and look up for a rafter that wasn’t there. Starlight hadn’t yet realized that he only did it because he thought it was funny. Of course, Twilight could recall a couple occasions when his threats were more than just humor.

Starlight, surprisingly having heard Twilight’s statement over her own tirade, took it as Twilight just trying to defend another one of Trixie’s destructive behaviors. This, it seemed, broke her, as she could only look at Twilight with a look of shock and disbelief. Eventually she just shook her head and they both went on about her morning in the kitchen. After about ten minutes, they had both seemed to have separately and silently put the short spat behind them, and Starlight casually asked, “Oh! I, uh, I need to talk to Spike about something, is he awake yet?”

“Hm? Yes, he’s still asleep in his bedroom- wait,” Twilight reached out to the mare, who was strangely moving out of the kitchen even after having heard that Spike was still asleep. “There’s something I need to ask you about,” said Twilight, disregarding Starlight’s sudden nervousness as residual discomfort from the earlier spat. “Do you remember how I told you about Cheerilee, the schoolteacher, helping me organize the fair?” Starlight nodded her head. “You didn’t tell Trixie about it did you? Or Spike?”

“No, why?” Starlight was backing away toward the door, facing Twilight who was looking away in thought.

“It’s just something strange that Trixie mentioned last night. He said something about how she was helping me, but I don’t remember telling… Starlight?” Twilight brought her eyes to the swaying door, Starlight nowhere to be seen. Twilight didn’t mind, she’d gotten her information.

It was always something Trixie did when he lied; he’d lace in a little bit of truth. Twilight wasn’t sure if the magician did it intentionally, as a way to weave in and out of his story with a common line, or if he was just a bad liar. Twilight, while feeling Trixie to be one of the more cunning ponies she’d ever known, was of the opinion that the latter was the truth of the matter. Of course, it was entirely possible that she had just left some note from Cheerilee on the dresser and Trixie had seen it and extrapolated that they were working together. But what she couldn’t explain was why he kept mentioning the schoolhouse, even when she had ousted him as lying. It could’ve just been Cheerilee on his mind, but Twilight thought there was a deeper connection. At any rate, all Twilight had to do was wait for the truth to show itself up in Trixie’s conversation. While it might have hurt her to know that Trixie was lying, it was always an amusing spectacle--and Twilight even thought it was a little cute, the way he’d get so nervous and trip over his words. Intelligent enough to catch himself making a mistake, but not before he’d make it. He’d figure out the traps Twilight would lay in conversation to catch him lying, but still fall for them, and after two or three times he get annoyed and stamp his hooves and storm off. Twilight smiled just thinking about it.

At around the time a pony of sound mind would be calmly admitting defeat and examining his own shortcomings, Beatrix Lulamoon was in his study rifling through his desk and bookshelves, unshaven, his hair sopping wet, and a yellow toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. He was searching for magical papyrus, hoping that he might’ve misplaced even a single sheet during one his impotent rages or just out of ignorance. Magical inscription was one of the first, most basic tasks that students of Celestia’s School learned, and Trixie was never very skilled at it. He had the knowledge, but not the ability. His levitation was too unwieldy, not precise enough for the accurate writing that spell inscription necessitated--back when he was a colt, and even as a grown stallion, he’d usually have Twilight do it for him (after ruining several sheets in deluded attempts to do it himself). But, even if he had a sheet,that couldn’t be the case this time. His plan, to correct the course of that week’s first failing scheme, was to inscribe a spell on a scroll and use it to bypass Twilight’s control over his spellcasting. This spell, which Trixie planned to inscribe, was the enchantment Modify Memory.

While he was an arrogant, foppish, gamboling idiot, Beatrix Lulamoon was willing to accept a few truths about the world and his place in it. He understood that Twilight was at least marginally better at magic than he (no matter how much she insisted that he was a genius), and as such considered himself the second best mage in Equestria. But, he also knew that there was at least one school of magic in which he was superior to Twilight: Enchantment. To illustrate this point, let us look back and see that where Twilight Sparkle graduated from Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns with very advanced marks in Conjuration and Transmutation and above average marks in every other subject, Beatrix Lulamoon graduated with extraordinary marks in Enchantment, average marks in Illusion, and below average marks in every other subject.

The school of magic Enchantment was generally divided into two disciplines: the application of magical effects to objects, and the application of magical effects to organisms. The former being easily enough understood as turning twigs into wands and swords into magical swords; the latter being a little more difficult to explain, but easily enough understood as hypnosis and all its derivatives, from making somepony fall asleep to total mind control. Some unicorn enchanters were rumored to be so advanced in their knowledge that they could utter a single word and instantly kill another living thing. Some of these rumors were even centered on Beatrix himself, and he noticed that even when Twilight granted him ‘total’ use of his magic, he could still some restraints in place. He didn’t mind, though; the idea that she had to limit his powers, real or imagined, made him feel great and powerful in a way that he seldom did anymore. Twilight was always capable of making him feel that way, even when they were children in school together. While it was her job to make sure he passed the other subjects, she’d always encourage him to follow his passion for Enchanting and Illusion. In fact, she was a willing test subject for many of his spells and enchanting experiments, until a particularly tempestuous incident the year they both turned thirteen and Night Light, Twilight’s father, forbade them from it thereafter.

Trixie assumed that, after so much time turning his study and laboratory upside down looking for a blank sheet of papyrus, it was getting about time for he and Twilight to leave for the hospital. What a shame, he thought, that he could have convinced Scootaloo herself of the lies he told about her--if only he had some papyri on which to inscribe Modify Memory, cleaning up yesterday’s mess would be so much easier. But Twilight would be stepping through the door any minute and that’d be it. Of course, he had no way of knowing if any time had passed as the sun was obscured by a dingy blanket of grey clouds, and the only clock Trixie kept in his tower had been broken months before in one of his rages. Twilight would’ve replaced it if he had told her, but he was afraid of disappointing his special somepony. She was the only pony in the world who could make him feel guilty like that, after his mother passed away.

The door to the wizard’s study slowly opened, and Trixie braced himself before realizing that it wasn’t Twilight coming to hurry him, but Spike with a worried expression waving him over. Trixie, his interest piqued, trotted over to the dragonling who was hiding behind the door.

“I thought you’d still be asleep,” casually stated Trixie, until he saw Spike’s expression grow more worried and Spike motion him to lean down and stay quiet.

“I need you to come to my room,” implored Spike, desperately. Trixie, bemused and barely concerned, nodded and followed the whelp down the hall. He noticed Spike wasn’t dragging his feet the way he normally did in the morning, but stepping deliberately and with stealth the wizard wouldn’t expect of a child, even a dragonling.

A couple minutes later, Trixie was stood over Spike’s damp, slightly discolored bed with disgust on his face and apprehension in his posture. Spike was stood closer to him than what he’d consider normal, and being awfully silent. His toothbrush still sticking out from his mouth, Trixie said, “I, uh, I don’t know why you’d come to me with this instead of Twilight, Sp-”

“You can’t tell Twilight!” Spike blurted out, catching himself before it became a yell. Trixie raised an eyebrow.

“And why can’t I?”

“Because she’d- Well, y’know, she’d start asking questions and I--I mean, I know she means well, but… A-and, besides, Twilight told me that when you were a colt, you’d wet your b-”

“Well, she lied to you!” Trixie shouted, Spike prompting him to quiet down. “Wh-? F-fine, just… Well, we don’t have any servants, so you’re just going to have to clean these yourself if you don’t want Starlight or Twilight finding out,” Trixie explained with a harshness he didn’t realize was in his tone, noting that Spike grew a little more worried at the mention of Starlight’s name. “So just replace these and hide them somewhere until everypony’s asleep, then head down and take care of it. And don’t drink anything before you go to sleep, if you can help it,” Trixie turned around, starting to head for the door. “Or you could wear diapers like the baby you are- Oh! Maybe Big Mac has some you could borrow! Ha!”

“Heh, y-yeah--well, could you help me wash them, at least for to-”

“No.”

“Oh, w-well- Hey, wait!” Spike ran up to the stallion, who was almost out the door. Trixie spun around.

“What?”

“I-is Starlight making breakfast downstairs?”

“How should I know?”

“Uh, w-what are you and Twilight doing today?” Spike was visibly getting more worried, and Trixie was getting more intrigued than annoyed.

“We’re… going to the hospital, to see Scootaloo. Her father be- Uh, I mean,” Trixie shouldn’t have known yet that Scootaloo’s father had anything to do with it, and he realized it just too late. He could only hope Spike didn’t notice, and he probably didn’t, because the dragonling’s expression had gone from worry to panic. “W-what are you doing today?”

“C-could I come with you to the hospital?” Spike was trying his best to appear calm and ask coolly, but Trixie saw through it. His eyes darted to the wet bed, then back to Spike, and his expression softened.

“Spike, are you sure there’s nothing that you want to talk to Twilight about?”

“...”

“Okay… Well, I have to go finish getting ready to leave,” Trixie left the room.

After he left Spike’s room, Trixie spent a little time considering whether he ought to head back to his tower and continue his hopeless search for an unadulterated scroll or return to the bedroom and at least try and look presentable before Twilight found him. Rubbing his bristly neck, he decided the latter option to be the wiser of the two, and trotted down the hall toward Twilight’s bedroom and the nearby bathroom. Taking him by surprise, Twilight quickly emerged from a hallway perpendicular, those repulsive calcium tablets floating next to her, and Trixie’s toothbrush poked her cheek.

“Eep! Wh- Trixie! You haven’t even shaved! Why is- ah!” Twilight ran her hoof over the stallion’s wet, curly white mane. “You’re going to catch pneumonia!” Twilight sighed and grabbed Trixie by the arm, dragging him over to their bedroom as the door to the bathroom swung open and a folded towel levitated toward them. “Hold still,” Twilight sat him on the foot of the bed before stepping over to her modest closet, the towel flying onto his head and starting to violently twist around, drying his mane. Trixie took out his tooth brush, trying not to choke on it.

“Twi- ugh! Twilight! Is this really necessary?!” asked Trixie, maneuvering his head to avoid the scraping oscillations of the towel.

“Well, it clearly is, Trixie, seeing as how you refuse to get ready like a big colt,” Twilight stepped out of the closet holding one of Trixie’s thicker, fur lined capes. She always kept a few of Trixie’s clothes in her closet, mostly for situations like this one, or if she ever wanted to smell the faint vanilla-like aroma Trixie always gave off. Rarity had once speculated that she did it to bolster the appearance of the closet itself, make it seem like she a wardrobe one might actually expect of a princess. Trixie’s ostentatious and over designed robes and capes stood in stark contrast to Twilight’s simple and unassuming garments, and existed in greater quantity. Only her gala dresses really stood out in the collection, Twilight having hid her coronation dress from Trixie. He’d put enchantments on almost all of her clothing in different little experiments of his, and she didn’t mind most of the time. She was just happy he was finding constructive ways of using his free time (which he had in excess).

Having few ponies willing to put up with his various quirks and proclivities, in addition to his general disdain for society, Trixie had many empty hours to fill. If he wasn’t enchanting Twilight’s dresses and jewelry, he was usually performing bizarre and incomprehensible experiments like replacing a lizard’s blood with cola. Twilight often worried about his lack of sociability, even when she knew the reason (not that she could bring it up to him). The great irony of their love was that Twilight was the princess of friendship, and Trixie had no friends.

The towel stopped attacking Trixie and fell limp on the floor, Twilight kicking it away before levitating his toothbrush out of his hoof and into his mouth. After quickly going once over Trixie’s teeth, and making him gag, the yellow plastic instrument flew back out and toward its place in the bathroom. Twilight, rearing up, wrapped the cloak around him and started fastening it around his neck with her hooves. Trixie took this opportunity to notice that her expression had lightened and smiled at her. Glancing up, she smiled back and gave him a little kiss. “This was the cloak I asked you to wear yesterday, to town. But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t want to come up here and get it after what… well…”

Twilight looked back up at Trixie, a little more sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Trixie,” she said, nuzzling his bristly face.

“It’s okay. And, uh, actually--what you said earlier this morning about… going to town for what I needed…”

“Yes?” Twilight was nearly finished fastening the garish cloak; Trixie couldn’t understand why Twilight was always insisting on doing things with her hooves instead of magic.

“I’ve, um, I’ve seemed to have run out of some supplies for my work. So, if we could head to town and get, uh, magic ink and maybe some stationary and, well, things of that nature in general, then that would… be nice.”

“‘Things of that nature’, huh? You mean like magic papyrus, so you can inscribe a spell scroll and cast magic even when I’ve said you can’t?” Twilight finished fastening Trixie’s cape and looked up, directly into his eyes with a smirk.

Trixie’s eyes darted down and his head followed, hanging. “Y-yes.”

“I don’t think so, sweetie,” Twilight kissed him on the forehead, hugging him quickly before pulling him off the bed and onto his hooves. She grabbed the bottle of vitamins off of the bed where she left it, magically unscrewing the cap. “Take your calcium, Trixie, you need it for exocytosis.”

“I don’t know what that is, and I don’t want to take them, they’re chalky,” said Trixie, weaving around a floating white pill Twilight was trying to feed him. It was a special privilege, she had, to hear Trixie admit when he didn’t know something--even after his years of practice for faking as if he knew everything.

“Take it now and I’ll get you some of those children’s gummy vitamins when we’re at the hospital,” Twilight nuzzled his prickly, unshaven neck, and shook the bottle for emphasis.

“WelI… I do like those… Will you get me the orange flavored ones?” asked Trixie. Twilight nodded with a smile. “Okay, but don’t think they sell vitamins at hospitals, Twilight,” Trixie had stopping dodging the tablet, having plucked it from the air, and was holding it in front of his mouth.

“Actually they added a, uh, well… auxillary pharmacy, I guess, where they do sell supplements and little things like that,” explained Twilight, the two starting to walk toward the door. “While we’re there, maybe we could get you some of those bandaids with cartoons on them,” giggled Twilight, her snickering stopping the same time Trixie did. Still smirking, she looked over to see her special somepony staring at her and pouting the way he did when she’d tease him. “I’m sorry, Trixie, I won’t make fun. Come on, take your calcium and we’ll get you the gummies,” she said, pecking the wizard’s cheek as his petulant expression melted into one of subtle contentment. They both walked out of the bedroom. “Now, exocytosis is the movement of macromolecules out of the cell; this happens because-...”

They’d only been walking a few minutes, Trixie tucked under Twilight’s wing, striding unevenly like a single organism. Spike wasn’t with them. They were taking the road outside of town to the hospital. Twilight knew why, and she hoped Trixie had enough self-awareness to understand. The sky was a sea of light grey, clouds occasionally breaking to allow beams of sunlight to grace the fields bordering the lonely dirt road. The two ponies had been silent for the short time they’d been travelling it, Twilight gazing at the frosty green waves of grass with a grin, a wing clasping her special somepony snugly against her side. She was trying to keep her mind off of Scootaloo and what might’ve happened to her until she could at least get to the hospital and hear the truth. Trixie, who was staring down the cold stretch of land before them, was struggling to keep Twilight’s pace--his twisted legs paining him more than the day prior, but Twilight didn’t seem to notice. She’d only glance at his blank face, smiling at him and never looking down at his hooves.

Ponies who didn’t know Trixie would mistake his dead stare for either studied contempt or abject stupidity, but Twilight knew it to only be his neutral expression, and found a kind of comfort in it. It brought out his more delicate features and presented them as a kind of innocence, she thought. Of course, most of Trixie’s features were delicate--there was nothing especially masculine about him but his actions. He was a beautiful stallion. Some mares disliked it in their significant others, but Twilight admired that special kind of feminine quality in a stallion’s appearance, and it abounded in Trixie. In his face, in his body, and especially in his clothing. The first thing anyone intimately familiar with the house Lulamoon would notice about Trixie was his apparel. While dour and austere garb was ubiquitous in his family’s taste, black and deep red affairs with simple cuts being the norm, Trixie would dress himself in vibrant blues and pinks, high collared cloaks and whimsical tunics--what would be expected from a member of a more magical and outspoken house of nobility, like Twilight’s, not a scion of the militant and secretive Lulamoons. Why he did it, out of wish or rebellion (maybe just taste), was just as much a mystery to Twilight as anyone else. The only thing that might be considered really masculine about his appearance were his hypnotic eyes, Twilight being one of the few ponies who had the privilege of regularly seeing them head-on.

His appearance aside, there was some femininity about Trixie that Twilight found more concerning than attractive; mostly because of the way it conflicted with his general behavior and beliefs. For instance, you wouldn’t expect a pony who regularly espoused the tenets of fascism and social repression to skip like a filly whenever he was happy, but Trixie did. You wouldn’t expect a stallion who, when Flurry Heart needed her diaper changed when Shining Armor was in town, insisted that Twilight was ‘the mare, so she should be the one doing that type of thing’ to prance about singing love songs whenever Twilight paid him a little extra attention on any given day. A mare might expect her stallion to be fine with her seeing him get ready in the morning, but whenever Twilight walked in on Trixie applying his fruity perfumes and oils (which took at least an hour) after one of his candlelit baths, she’d be screamed at in a high baritenor voice to get out. While Twilight normally felt that many of these discrepancies should be ascribed to Trixie’s general lack of social comprehension and misunderstanding of societal expectations, it was times like that when she wondered if Trixie’s mother’s imposed transvestism had really only been as harmful as the schoolyard bullying it precipitated. The truth was that it was likely some combination of the two, but Twilight found the problem all the more confusing for the fact that Trixie considered himself the epitome of masculinity.

In the end, it didn’t matter to Twilight how Trixie conformed to their society’s ideals of femininity and masculinity, because she loved him and he loved her. Whenever they’d talk about Trixie and their relationship, Cadance would always say to Twilight that she could tell Trixie and Twilight loved each other even when they were children and she was babysitting them. Cadance would say that she knew they loved each other before they did. Twilight, while knowing she’d always say this, still found comfort in the statement. After all, Cadance was the princess of love (and the only pony Twilight could confide all the details of her relationship with Trixie in), so she should know. That having been said, Twilight would sometimes wonder if she knew that she would end up with Trixie, even when she was ten years old.

Twilight wasn’t sure if she’d say Trixie was her first friend, but definitely the first non-familial pony she enjoyed having around. They didn’t speak much, reciprocally at least, for the first couple of years they knew one another. Their average day, from around the time they were nine to ten or eleven years old, consisted of Trixie following Twilight home so she could help him study like the professors asked; they would study together for about an hour and a half, then they’d eat a snack that either Twilight’s mother or Cadance had prepared for them. After their snack, Twilight and Trixie would spend an hour or so conversing and playing, their ‘conversations’ being Twilight delivering long speeches about whatever book she’d just read while Trixie listened quietly, and occasionally she could coax Trixie into shyly delivering his own quiet monologues about some minutiae of advanced Enchanting or Illusion. Trixie didn’t have a very good grasp on the art of conversation back then, as Twilight recalled, so that was the only way they could speak to each other at first.

Griffon culture, having been influenced a great deal by the classical pegasus civilizations since the days of ancient Gryphon, was mostly similar to greater pony culture--but the griffons had an old belief for which there was no pony analogue: a kind of spiritual promise. Twilight thought of a jigsaw puzzle when she’d first had it related to her, but the real concept was a little more complex. The idea, as Twilight recollected, was that every griffon was born with a soul missing a piece, and an extra piece that didn’t fit. And, for every griffon, there was only one other with the matching space and piece, and once they came together, they’d be whole. Twilight didn’t consider herself to be very spiritual beyond the objective mysticism being a sorceress necessitates, but she figured that if griffons and ponies did have such souls, then Trixie was her match.

They’d been walking for about twenty minutes now, almost halfway to the hospital, with Twilight intermittently nuzzling Trixie and the stallion himself peering around blankly every few minutes. “Trixie?” asked Twilight. “Do you remember when we were around ten or eleven, and Cadance would fix snacks for us?” Twilight was pressing her cheek against Trixie’s and looking ahead with a gentle grin.

“Mhm. After we’d study,” confirmed Trixie, quiet and nearly monotone, more calm after repeated mental assertions that he’d think of a way out of the predicament with Scootaloo’s abuse. A noise he couldn’t identify sounded a few feet ahead in the thicket off the side of the road.

“And how we’d build pillow forts and play…? Do you- huh?” Twilight’s dreamy reminiscing was interrupted by Trixie pulling away to go investigate some little sound he’d heard or some shape he saw, like he’d often do during their walks. Satisfied that Trixie was only doing what he normally did, Twilight was ready to return to her memories until she noticed something strange about the way Trixie was moving. While he’d only been back in her life for a few years, she liked to think that she knew all the ways he normally moved. The aforementioned girlish skipping when he was happy, his regular contemplative gait, his thuggish marching when he was upset; the cute way his hooves would turn inward when he was sad or embarrassed, and-

“Oh no,” Twilight saw Trixie stumbling over with his hooves pointing out, his knees twisting hideously. He’d only done this a couple of times before, and it always led up to him having some painful injury before he’d stop and return to his natural walk. Twilight hadn’t been able to figure out what triggered it, but she knew it had something to do with his father or brothers. “Trixie, stop that.”

“Stop what?” Trixie turned from the motionless thicket to look at Twilight, a little bemused. She looked down at his legs, then back up in his eyes. It only took Trixie a moment to discern what it meant. “I normally walk like this, Twilight. This is how I’ve always walked-”

“No, it isn’t,” said Twilight, gentle but stern.

“...” Trixie cocked his head a little, actually convicted in his beliefs about his knees and hooves, trying to both calm and convince his concerned mare. “This is how I’ve walked since I was a little colt, I’ve told you about my legs. How my father and Halifax Jr both needed leg braces, but wouldn’t get them for me-”

“The first time you told me that story, it was only your grandfather who needed leg braces. How long until your entire family wore leg braces but you, Trixie?” Twilight almost immediately regretted the second sentence, seeing a genuine glint of pain in Trixie’s eyes before they darted away. “Wait, I’m sorry, Trixie. Come on,” Twilight approached Trixie, gently wrapping a hoof around his foreleg and leading him to the side of the road, sitting down with him and rubbing his knees.

“I-it’s a… It’s congenital, and my knees-my hooves stick out and...and…” Trixie was stammering, looking down and trying to ignore the feeling of Twilight’s eyes on him.

“Shh, Trixie. I know, I know,” shushed Twilight, trying to comfort him. His stuttering quickly dropped into silence, and Twilight nuzzled him. “Trixie, do you remember what happened the last time you did this?” There was a short pause.

“Hrrng… We had to… You took...Hrrng…” Trixie’s dejected self-indulgences about his alleged leg defects had not yet been surrendered, but were now morphing into a low boiling contempt.

“Your knee popped out and we had to go to the emergency room,” Twilight knew Trixie well enough to see that he was getting annoyed, and tried to keep the little talk as gentle as possible. “Do you remember what the doctor said when she looked at your knees?” softly queried Twilight, realizing that her attempts to be gentle sounded more condescending than anything else.

“I’m not going to see any therapist, Twilight,” stated Trixie, sitting up straight and sounding a little harsh as he looked over at Twilight, who was already rubbing his back with a reassuring hoof.

“The doctor did tell me to take you to a therapist, but I didn’t because you didn’t want to and I respect your feelings,” It was an old habit she’d picked up when speaking to Trixie; Twilight would always have to clearly convey her emotions with words, because the stallion easily misconstrued statements with more subtle meanings. “But do you remember why she said that you should see a therapist?” Trixie looked back down to the ground, hunching over once again. “She said that you were making it up, and walking that way to hurt yourself,” Twilight grabbed one of Trixie’s forelegs, gently shaking it to emphasize her next point. “Trixie, you’re hurting yourself on purpose. And I know you’re upset, but I can’t just sit by and watch you do it,” Twilight tried her best to deliver this with enough emotion that even Trixie could pick up on it, but he just sat there silently. Twilight sighed, hugging him without another word for about two minutes, until something occurred to her. “Is this about yesterday morning? Oh, Trixie I’m sorry. That was wrong, and I’m sorry I did it. Are you still mad at me? Is that why you’re hurting your knees again?” Twilight stared at the still silent Trixie, never breaking their embrace. He didn’t respond. They sat there for a little while longer.

“She was a pegasus,” murmured Trixie.

“Hm?”

“The doctor was a pegasus... How should she know what unicorn joints are meant to look like?” Trixie elaborated with a little more impetus. For a reason he couldn’t determine, or didn’t want to, this statement prompted Twilight to sigh.

“Trixie, that doesn’t-... Okay, Trixie, how about this: we’re going to a hospital, we’ll get a unicorn doctor to look at your knees. If he says that there is something wrong, then we’ll forget about this and get it treated-”

“Well, actually only surgery c-”

“But if he tells me that you’re doing this to yourself, causing yourself pain,” Twilight countered, silencing Trixie’s own interjection. “Then you and I are going to have a long talk about this tonight.” Trixie, realizing that the deal had already been struck between Twilight and herself and that he had no say in the matter, only nodded submissively and abandoned the pointless fight. Twilight saw this and returned to rubbing his back for a few moments before they rose to continue the journey. “Sometimes I just don’t understand you, Trixie.”

“Hrrng…” grunted Trixie. The two were now walking, but apart.

“You invent these injuries and illnesses, coming to me for sympathy,” casually tutted Twilight, strangely unaware of the feelings it stirred in the now brooding Trixie, who was making it a point to walk faster than Twilight and stay ahead of her.

“Hrrng-yeah, uh huh,” grunted Trixie, with restrained anger.

“But I’m not allowed to even bring up your real disability, or you start screaming and crying,” Twilight stopped her quiet droning when she saw Trixie wince at the mention of his condition. She trotted up to his side, putting a hoof on his back to slow him down, but he shook it off and moved away. “Trixie, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Twilight tried to comfort him, but there was no point; the wizard forcefully refuted the idea that his subconscious behaviors were even unusual, let alone predicated on any neurological abnormality. It confounded Twilight that her special somepony, who prided himself of being different and used ‘conformist’ as a grievous insult, could be so afraid of himself. She thought it may have been because she referred to it as ‘his disability’, but recalled that whenever she actually said the name of it, Trixie would throw a fit. “It doesn’t mean that you’re inferior in any way, just a little different-”

“Hrrng, yes, Twilight. Thank you, Twilight,” snapped Trixie, gaining speed and once again overtaking Twilight. It amazed her how quickly he could revert from her idealistic and intelligent court wizard to the angry, sulking malcontent that lived in the Golden Oaks’ basement. Twilight was getting a little upset with him, deciding that she’d have to bring this back up later that night when she got to the bottom of his malingering and overall behavior since Shining Armor’s visit. For now, though, she’d let it go.

“Alright, Trixie, I should’ve known that you wouldn’t want to talk about your disability, so we-”

Trixie halted and swung around, facing Twilight. “I-I’m not d-dis-disabled-not disabled--I told you-I told you to nev-It is-is-isn’t a d-d-d-” Trixie’s anger morphed into a painful kind of shame upon hearing his righteous indignation take shape as a stream of stutters and stammers, and turned away from Twilight, who unpredictably chose that day as the one to make a stand on the obviously very sensitive issue.

“Then how do you explain what happened last night?” challenged Twilight, standing firm against the stream of incomprehensible sobbing shouts of protest emanating from the visibly perturbed stallion. “Why do I constantly have to-” Trixie swung back again to face Twilight, his eyes tearing up as he impotently stamped up to the princess and screamed disjointed sentences and word jumbles that seemed to add up to him pathetically asserting his not being disabled. Ordinarily the sight would’ve broken Twilight’s heart, but there was something about that day that spurred her on. It might’ve been Starlight’s speech that morning, or perhaps just the accumulation of her own displeasure with Trixie. “Trixie! Trix- ah! Okay!” She grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back over to the side of the road. “I can see we need to sit down again,” Trixie broke away.

“No! N-no! I-I-you c-can’t-!” By now, the light grey clouds hovering in the cold air had turned several shades darker, enveloping the sky and completely shutting out the sun’s warm rays. A frigid wind rustled the dying grass flanking the road. “I-I’m not d-d-! I don’t-don’t have-!” Every break in the stammering screams was filled by shrieking sobs and guttural gasps for air.

“Trixie, this is ridiculous! I can tell the difference between a meltdown and one of your idiotic tantrums.” Trixie seemed to be hurt by the chastisement, but Twilight found it difficult to discern in the wretched display of stamped hooves and violent head shakings, and started to question her ability to actually tell the difference between a meltdown and one of Trixie’s attention-seeking tantrums.

“I told- I told you to never say that to me! Never say that I- say that I’m disabled!” Trixie, for some reason, stopped stuttering after Twilight’s assertion that she knew he was throwing a tantrum and not having one of his meltdowns like the night prior. She noticed. He was still stammering, of course, but he always did that when he screamed at her.

“Okay, Trixie! Fine! I’m sorry! I-I’m…” Twilight saw that Trixie was already starting to calm down after the ‘apology’. She stepped up and hugged him, thinking that it’d be better to surrender to him now and stop the childish fit before it got out of hand. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” said Twilight, caressing Trixie’s mane as he stopped huffing. The comforting, at first only a measure to end the tantrum, became a little more sincere when Twilight felt Trixie’s trembling breaths and wet eyes against her neck. “Shh, It’s okay.” They stood there a little while longer in the embrace, until Twilight asked Trixie if he was ready to keep going. He said yes, and the two started moving forward in the same fashion they were when they began the journey, Trixie under Twilight’s wing as if nothing had happened.

The Hospital and Israch on the Mountain

Chapter Five

“Princess Twilight! It’s so nice to have you here!” squealed the nurse, spinning her chair around to face Twilight and Trixie. The ponies in the waiting room all seemed to come alive at the sight of the princess swaying into their (presumably) grim situations, a smile on her face and a wizard under one wing. The room itself, sterile white with mass-produced cushioned benches and unliving plants in soilless pots, seemed to rouse at the vivifying air of Twilight’s arrival. Trixie didn’t notice.

“You don’t have to call me ‘princess’, Nurse Redheart,” Twilight strode up to the desk, sweetly shaking her head at the mare, who beamed at the sound of her name escaping a princess’s lips. “Trixie and I are just here to see Scootaloo,” explained Twilight. “She’s a pegasus filly, and-”

“I know who she is, she came in early this morning,” Nurse Redheart kicked one hoof off the linoleum floor and her chair slid over to a short filing cabinet, several manila folders resting atop it. She pulled one from the pile and flipped through it, intermittently glancing up at Twilight, and said, “She came in at the start of my shift, in fact. Here it is--she’s in room three-fourteen.”

“Thank you,” said Twilight, the two mares smiling at each other as she turned toward the staircase. Ponyville, being primarily composed of earth ponies, didn’t have many of the magic generators that allowed Unicorn cities such amenities as elevators (something Trixie wouldn’t allow Twilight to forget), so even the relatively advanced Ponyville Hospital still only used staircases. Stepping toward the stairs in question, Twilight jerked to a stop, feeling her stallion’s hoof latched onto her foreleg. “Oh, and--Nurse Redheart?”

“Yes, Twilight?” she chirped, turning back toward the two.

“We need a physician to look at Trixie’s knees, please,” Twilight asked, trying to sound nonchalant. “A, um… a unicorn would be preferable,” said Twilight, her voice a little quieter. It wasn’t such a strange request, but it still made Twilight a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t like Trixie would ask; she always had to speak for him in situations like this.

“Of course, Twilight. Doctor Ametrine will be making his rounds on the third floor in…” Nurse Redheart leaned forward and squinted over at a hanging clock. “Twenty minutes. He’ll take a look at Trixie,” she said, not noticing Twilight’s bemusement at the response, or Trixie’s little scowl.

“Is he an Orthopedist? And isn’t there some paperwork that I- Trixie should fill out?”

“It’s fine, Twilight. If any forms need to be filled out, he’ll give them to you,” Redheart explained, trying to soothe the princess but with some condescension in her tone. Twilight had lived in Ponyville for nearly three years, and the earth ponies still treated her like a filly who had never left Canterlot. She couldn’t stand it when they did that, but she did a good job of hiding it. At least she could talk to Trixie about it.

“Oh, well… Alright, thank you,”Twilight smiled and walked toward the door to the staircase, Trixie in tow. It could’ve been worse, she thought, Nurse Redheart could have been offended when Twilight asked for a unicorn specifically. Trixie stepped forward to open the door for Twilight, and she gave him a quick nuzzle as she stepped through. Earth ponies, generally, didn’t seem to care that unicorns sometimes had a preference for other unicorns, so maybe it was silly of her to worry about how the nurse would react. Pegasus ponies, on the other hoof, were notoriously sensitive when it came to that sort of thing, and regarded unicorns as clannish and conniving at worst. Trixie, a well known subscriber to fringe theories and other unpopular beliefs, would often tell Twilight that pegasus ponies all suffered from a cultural inferiority complex which caused them to overcompensate in the face of the ‘superior’ Unicorn civilization.

“You’d think with the so-called cultural exchange of Ponyville, the rudiments of book keeping wouldn’t be so difficult for them to grasp,” Trixie said, in such a tone as to draw the ire of Twilight if she weren’t distracted in thought. After a quick trot two stories up the especially spacious staircase, the two unicorns glided through a set of double doors. They were greeted by the gleaming of Earth Ponies sat on benches and others laying. What were obviously long, dark periods of dormancy (awaiting verdicts darker still) had just been happily broken, if even for a moment, by the light of the Princess. Trixie was unmoved, and Twilight did her best to smile as they trotted past, looking over the sorry bunch.

Twilight wasn’t really sure how she felt about the fame that came with her wings, but seeing how some ponies transformed when they saw her was both fascinating and frightening. Trixie always enjoyed some celebrity among the ponies of the known world due to his various acts and antics (despite his numerous reprehensible actions); so for a long time after her coronation, whenever it came to situations like this, Twilight would try to emulate him and react the way he would--which mainly consisted of lock-stepping by whatever assemblage of Ponies stood about looking, and pointedly avoiding their gaze in the most noble display of austere Unicorn dignity. This resonated with Unicorns and most Pegasuses, and generally worked out well, for a time, because Twilight was--like her special somepony-- socially crippled and unable to gauge the effects of any given display in any meaningful capacity. It wasn’t until Applejack pointed out the conceit of such behavior did Twilight begin to, as she put it, be herself when it came to her new fame.

After turning left twice, right once, doubling back, turning right twice and asking for directions from a nurse, Twilight and Trixie came upon Scootaloo’s room. Trixie was getting awfully nervous about this time and Twilight, taking notice, nuzzled him reassuringly. She thought something of it when he didn’t calm down. They opened the door, opposite the window, and saw Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo in an embrace sitting on a couch in front of the window. They were silhouetted by the rising sun. Trixie was surprised. On the hospital bed was a stallion sized pony, completely covered and obscured by a white sheet. Trixie took two steps and stood there, his face like a slab of stone, while Twilight rushed up to Rainbow Dash and the crying filly in her arms. Twilight looked once at the bed, and then back at the pair.

“What’s happened?” Twilight muttered to Rainbow, whose own eyes were tender.

“Scootaloo’s Dad died last night,” Rainbow replied in a gravelly voice, and Scootaloo wailed at the words. Rainbow held her tighter.

Trixie was slowly stepping toward the corpse. Twilight looked down at the crying filly and frowned sadly, then looked back at her friend as if to ask, How?

“The Doctor said they found, um, they… He was drunk and passed out in the road,” Rainbow said, her voice a little quieter toward the end of the sentence. “And it was so rainy last night that a… this pony with a wagon couldn’t see him laying there and a wheel ran over his head.”

Trixie removed the shroud covering Night Gliders face and found a fleshy lump of purple and dark red, with a single eye staring back at him. He placed the shroud back over the corpse and exited the room.

“Hey Scootaloo,” Rainbow said to the filly, who raised her teary face from Rainbow’s chest. Scootaloo silently hiccuped What? And Rainbow continued, “How about you go and talk to Trixie for a little bit?” She nodded toward the closing door. “Have him take you to get some breakfast.”

After the filly walked out, Twilight and Rainbow exchanged fearful looks and the Princess sat down on the couch beside her friend.

Trixie and Scootaloo were sat in the modest cafeteria, on the same side of an upholstered booth--Earth Ponies were fond of upholstery and booths--and neither looked particularly animated, even given the circumstances. Scootaloo was pushing around some macaroni on her plate, and was pressed up against Trixie (who hadn’t gotten anything to eat). It had been quite some time since their last candid interaction, but Scootaloo seemed to act as familiar with him as ever--though a little less emotional than with Rainbow Dash. She had always seen herself as being similar to Trixie, in that they both led sort of unconventional lives. And hard lives. Trixie once taught her that it’s something to be proud of, to live in harsh places and suffer, because it made them stronger.

Trixie was himself still shaken, and this was evident in the fact that he’d still not emoted even minutely. Only that dumb look plastered on his face, as if he saw something over your shoulder and couldn’t quite understand it. Scootaloo didn’t seem to notice, and was herself at a loss for how to feel.

“Trixie…” Scootaloo began, dropping her fork on the plate and looking over at the Stallion. “I don’t…” She looked back down at her hooves. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m scared. What if they send me up to one of those live-in academies in Cloudsdale? I can’t even fly-”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, Scootaloo,” Trixie interrupted. “You’ve lived in Ponyville for five years, they’ll send you to the workhouse.” Scootaloo whined and tears started to well up in her eyes as she pressed harder against Trixie, who quickly realized his error. “I mean the orphanage, not wo-” Scootaloo started to cry and embraced him. Trixie grabbed his cloak with one hoof and wrapped it around the filly, looking around to see how many would catch him in the midst of sentimentality. “Listen, Scootaloo: no matter what happens, in the end it’s all up to you. If you don’t want something to happen, then don’t let it happen. It’s your life.”

Scootaloo raised head and looked at him with red, wet eyes. “What do you mean? How can I change any of this? It’s not like I can just…” She said, and shook her head before pressing her face back into Trixie’s chest.

“I know it might seem like… Scootaloo, let me tell you a story,” said Trixie and the filly once again raised her head and looked at him.

Trixie began his story, “You remember what I’ve told you about the ancient Unicorns, before Equestria was founded--before we even came to the continent; how we used to live in little villages in the scrubby desert hills of our old island. Well, back then, Unicorns couldn’t practice magic. Not like we do now, anyway. See, back then, Unicorns worshipped a god who was called Ulaam in oldest tongues, and casting a spell was essentially just asking Ulaam to do something for you, to intervene in the mundane world. He was the god of magic, and the only god Unicorns ever worshipped. He was an indifferent god, and most times cruel to those who got his attention, even with good intentions. For these reasons, Unicorns not in his priesthood only called him ‘God’.

Now, there was a Unicorn colt named Israch, or Yisrach, who was the scion of an affluent family of farmers and merchants. This was back when all Unicorns had names like mine, mind you. He had a mother, a father, and ten sisters. They all lived happily on their ancestral farmland. But one day after Israch’s fifteenth birthday, a violent wind came from the sea and wiped out all the crops, and killed all their servants and animals. This didn’t sit well with Israch, who was an angry young colt and had always considered himself to be very brave--so he left his weeping family and ascended the mountain called Qorgoth, which was near to his home, and thought to commune with Ulaam and have him undo the storm’s damage. But he was afraid to see the face of God, and faltered.

Then, Israch and his family travelled to the nearby village of Qorgothun, and lived there while they rebuilt their estate with their ancestors’ saved wealth. Israch became happy again, because he’d made many friends while they lived in Qorgothun. But, one year and one day after the storm wiped out their farm, a warband descended on the village and razed it to the ground, killing Israch’s father and all of his friends and… killing his mother and sisters as well. Israch, however, being young and strong, was spared. The leader of the warband, who’s face Israch never forgot, took him as a slave and sold him to a violent farmer of lesser birth and prosperity than Israch’s father, and who lived in jealousy of Israch’s father. Israch, in addition to humiliating labor in the fields, suffered beatings at the hooves of the farmer every day. Two months later, while tending the farmer’s sheep on the side of another mountain, this one called Wsroth, Israch ascended the summit and thought again to commune with Ulaam--but again he felt fear at the prospect at seeing the face of God, and again faltered.

After two years and one day of laboring in the fields, the farmer died, and Israch stole away into the desert. Now, this wasn’t like the deserts you hear about in stories from Saddle Arabia. It was barren and hot, yes; but the sun never shone. The sand was as black as the most fertile soil, but no plants could take root, and animals were hateful to it. The heat wasn’t dry like in other deserts, no, it was as humid as the deepest swamps and marshlands, but with no water or rain to give you succor. Nopony would willingly subject themselves to wandering this desert, which had no name, save only the holiest priests of Ulaam. Because… for all its horrors and agonies, this desert was a very holy place for Unicorns.

After three years and one day of wandering the desert, Israch was beset upon by three starving lions, who stalked him up the summit of another great mountain of the dead island, and this mountain was called Dagemnon. At the peak of the mountain, and surrounded on all sides by the hungry lions, Israch peered up at the stars of the night sky, and thought to call upon God, but was again afraid and faltered. Then, though the sky was clear, there was a thunderclap so loud and frightful it drove Israch and the lions into unconsciousness. Then, after three days, Israch awoke to find himself in shackles and again in the possession of the warlord who had slain his family and friends, clothed in the furs of the three lions. Israch was so emotional at the sight, his anger so great, he commanded Ulaam to destroy the warlord in the tongue of the heavens, and the warlord burst into flames and died screaming. Israch was so incensed and amazed that he again used Ulaam’s name, this time to destroy all the warlord’s soldiers. And, right then, a tempest exactly like that which had destroyed Israch’s ancestral farm descended on the encampment, and wiped out the warband--leaving only Israch unscathed. In the midst of the storm, Israch began to swear and curse and rage against the heavens for the suffering he had endured, and finally he demanded Ulaam tell him why it was only then he had the power to stop it all.

Then the sky cracked open, and Israch saw the face of God--and Ulaam said to Israch, ‘What thy hoof has wrought is thine.’ Then the storm ended, and Israch saw the desolation that had befallen those who had wronged him, and he knew the heart of Ulaam.

Israch went on to become a great magus, and the first archmage; and one day after his four-hundredth birthday, a son was born to him named Ulaamun Lisrach--which means ‘the heart of Ulaam, son of Israch’. Ulaamun went on to become a magus himself, and the first king of the Unicorns.”

Scootaloo’s eyes were dry, but it was still easy enough to see where the tears had run down her face. Trixie did his best to discern whether or not she understood the meaning of the story, but decided to err on the side of caution and tell her straight out, “The moral of the story is that you have to fight back, Scootaloo. When things just keep getting worse, the Earth Ponies see it as a sign that they should give up and try something else--but that’s when you have to fight harder. And when things seem to be at their worst, and you’re at your lowest, that’s when you have to fight harder than ever before. Israch always had the power to stop his own suffering, but he was too afraid to fight back, so things only got worse for him until he did. You have to fight to get your own way, or things will just get worse for you.”

Scootaloo sat there silent for a little while longer, with that inquisitive look she always wore when Trixie told her stories like this, and Trixie thought that even if she didn’t understand, at least she stopped crying for a little while. Then, her eyes livened up and she asked, “Why did the Unicorns stop worshipping that god?” and this surprised Trixie, who was silent himself for a few seconds.

“He died,” Trixie answered, and turned his head to see Twilight walking up to them with a smile.

“Hey, Scootaloo,” She began, stepping around to the filly’s side of the booth. “You’re going to be staying with Rainbow Dash until I can get in touch with Mayor Mare and get this all settled out. She’s waiting outside for you.”

Scootaloo looked up and, while not as happy Twilight would have thought, smiled and thanked her and hugged either unicorn before sidling out from the booth’s squeaky seat and running out of the cafeteria, toward the main entrance. Then Twilight, pushing Scootaloo’s plate toward the opposite end of the table, pressed up against Trixie and nuzzled him. “You know, the book of episteme says you shouldn’t tell non-unicorns those stories,” She said to him, just slightly serious.

“I know what it says,” replied Trixie.

“You didn’t tell her the name of the desert, did you?” asked Twilight.

“Of course not,” said Trixie.

“Good… What did you have to eat?” asked Twilight, looking around for whatever pony was meant to come take the plate.

“I wasn’t hungry,” replied Trixie, his voice still not as vivacious as it normally was, and Twilight looked at him.

“Trixie… When was the last time you ate?” she asked.

Trixie looked away, trying to disguise it as a sudden interest in the ceiling. “Breakfast yesterday.”

“Oh, Trixie-” Twilight began, in that tone between worry and exasperation that she would sometimes use. “Don’t you have a headache?”

Trixie’s eyes shifted to the floor, and he said, “Yes.” Twilight sighed and wrapped a hoof around his arm, but before she could speak he continued, “You have to order up at the counter there, they don’t come to the table-” just then, a mare who had been conversing with another pony behind the counter ever since Twilight entered the cafeteria walked up to the table.

“Hello, Princess, would you and your wizard like anything from our menu?”

After ordering, Trixie and Twilight spent only a few minutes waiting for their meals to arrive. Most of this time was spent with Twilight tenderly chastising Trixie for not taking better care of himself, punctuating it with an assurance that she loves him. Then, their food was carried to them, with Twilight having ordered an assortment of sweet flowers and pistils, and Trixie an Equestrianized version of a bitter flower sandwich on flatbread (gluten-free, of course) with dipping sauce, which had erstwhile been very popular in Prance. Twilight thanked the waitress, and they began eating.

“So, what’s going to happen with Scootaloo?” Trixie asked, dipping his sandwich.

“Well, she doesn’t have a mother--as you know--and any extended family she has lives too far away for Ponyville’s government to award any custodial rights. Besides, I’m not sure it would be best to send Scootaloo away from her friends… And, because of… Well, you know, her… disability.” Replied Twilight, watching Trixie get annoyed at several flowers falling into his dipping sauce. “Rainbow and I were talking, and she wants to be Scootaloo’s legal guardian… But I’m not sure that would be best either. I mean, of all the choices we have right now, it might be the best option--but not ultimately.”

“I understand, Twilight. I know what you mean,” Trixie reassured, and Twilight kissed his cheek before eating a spoonful of chopped pistils. They sat there quietly for a while, eating and occasionally pressing up together.

“I had no idea Scootaloo’s father drank,” said Twilight, breaking the contented silence, and Trixie tensed up, dropping his sandwich into the dip.

“Maybe it was his first time,” said Trixie, stupidly, and Twilight looked at him puzzled. She used her magic to fish the sandwich out and levitate it back onto his plate.

“I don’t think so, Trixie,” said Twilight, returning to her food. A few moments later, she asked, “You don’t think he ever… abused her, do you?” and Trixie tensed up again, freezing in the middle of taking a bite.

“Well, um, even if he did, it’s over now. And it might be best if we didn’t bring this up anymore--for Scootaloo’s sake, I mean. What with her being so emotionally… vulnerable,” Trixie said as smoothly as he could, before taking an especially large bite of his sandwich.

“You’re right, Trixie, it’s probably for the best… For now, at least,” said Twilight, to Trixie’s relief. “Are you excited for the fair, tomorrow?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“So am I,” replied Twilight, smiling. “After we finish eating, we’ll go see about your knees-”

“I’ve changed my mind about that, Twilight,” said Trixie, and Twilight became bemused.

“Why?” she asked cautiously.

“I won’t hurt my knees anymore, Twilight,” ceded Trixie, quietly, and Twilight put down her spoon and hugged him.

They finished eating and walked home.

Author's Note

I am in a position to either continue writing this story as I first envisioned it (Twilight closing in on what Trixie did and Trixie trying to stop her from learning the truth) or I could end it now and start working on other stories with Twilight and Trixie I've been thinking of since I started this one--which will all be part of the story arc I've started in The Cure for Nightmares (which I intend to finish soon). Tell me what you think in the comments.