The city named Las Pegasus shone with a light rivaling that of the beautiful nocturnal sky itself; this could be said both literally and metaphorically.
Despite existing merely as a side jewel in Equestria’s Crown – paltry compared to the megalopolitan cities of Manehattan and the queendom's capital, Canterlot – and even though it was the youngest amongst its siblings, the glorious metropolis was the most beautiful girl at the party to its many visitors.
Founded only seventy years prior to the return of Nightmare Moon, Las Pegasus began as a Manehattan gangster's wash up operation that quite clearly got out of hoof – or so the legends were told, anyway. The city brought joy, thrills, and excitement to its capricious yet faithful visitors, as well as monumental profit for its inhabitants and owners.
Each night the city would offer a similar view to all those daring enough to enter its gates, and yet, every experience was somehow unique.
The first glimpse of its towering skyline fills the heads of approaching travelers with promises of success, alcohol, freedom, and carnal attractions. Like water dripping through an old tin roof, drop by drop would those images overtake naive minds. So strong was this phenomenon that it would hasten the wings of oncoming pegasi, strengthen the legs of earth ponies, and summon up teleportation and card-hiding spells from the backs of unicorns’ minds.
Then comes the sound; beginning as a murmur and slowly growing in intensity as ponies drew nearer to their destination. Subconsciously, they start to hum a catchy melody, not realizing until after their hearing finally grasps the swinging melodies emanating from the city. A swift but eloquent tune was always reverberating throughout the city-shaped amusement park, whether it was homage to the Blue Moon, a song about the effects of love, described as a Kick in The Head, or a classic Jingle Jangle Jingle.
Within minutes of the first melodic notes drifting through ponies' ears, the stunning light of casinos, theaters, and street lamps would grow to blinding intensity. At some point, one would have to shield one's eyes until they were properly adjusted to what was commonly described as “Celestia’s Sun under Luna’s Moon.”
Upon reaching the city, the touch of pavement beneath their tired hooves always served a second wind to weary travelers, now ready to party the whole night away. Some ponies, typically of the sourpuss and tin foil maniac variety, would claim that the city had been enchanted to provide its visitors a charge of energy the local businesses could exploit. Clearly, they knew not the wonders of the jewel floating upon a barren desert.
Las Pegasus was a marvelous city indeed, brimming with a charm that was absent anywhere but here. Manehattan catered to the aristocrats, the artists, and pedestrians with anger issues. Canterlot was for the social elite, La Crème de la Crème, the nobility, the wise. Las Pegasus, then, was for the wild, the intrepid, the irresponsible, and the ones who could afford a second mortgage for just one more roll of the dice.
And not only that; the city prided itself to be labeled as “entertainment for all ages.” Why, how could that be, in a metropolis with gambling, alcohol, and sexual exchanges that traded with something more than just the need to have a good time?
Quite simple: a variety of countless attractions and shows wide enough to keep a smile on everypony’s face.
Both adult and child-friendly establishments were open during the day, ready for anyone who yearned for them. Whether it was arcade games, bouncing castles or a strange game with the label of “Collet your Waifu” (the meaning of which was still up for debate among visitors and many of the locals), there was still something for any filly, colt, or adult pony who preferred a tamer form of leisure.
When the nocturnal curtain fell, however, and the starry night blessed the eyes of any who appreciated the majestic work of the Princess of the Night, the adult establishments shed their sorely neglected appearance from the hours of daylight and became flooded by ponies. Occasionally this would even include those same ones who ran about throughout the preceding daytime, if their batteries ran long enough. Each sought the unique offerings of fun and extravagance only Las Pegasus could offer.
True, you could bear witness to a vigorous stallion rubbing himself against you any day in the comfort of your home, so as long as you paid him enough, but only here could that happen while your marefriends cheered in the background and dared you to go further. Only here would you be able to drink your own weight in cider and consider it as an accomplishment. Only here could financially-instigated sessions of intimacy be so rewarding. And only here was one able to witness some of Equestria's greatest artists for the common ponies.
Tamers of wild beasts, tightrope walkers, jugglers with a dozen flaming daggers, unconventional acts of comedy, perfectly choreographed musical numbers, and of course, magicians and illusionists.
And when it came to the greatest and most powerful manipulators of magic, or so she would have you believe, she currently sat in her dressing room, her only company a cold drink at her side and a mirror that covered the wall before her from floor to ceiling.
The blue unicorn flashed her eyelashes gave a broad smile to her reflection.
“No, no, no, no, Trixie, that won't do it,” she immediately scolded herself. The strain to maintain her composure was palpable in her voice. “This is Las Pegasus. You can do better than that!”
She turned away from the mirror and took a deep breath. Suddenly, she spun around, standing on her two hind legs with her forearms extended. Her visage sported the cockiest grin she could muster despite the growing roar of a terror-fueled storm in her belly.
“I, the Great and Powerful Trixie, have come to shock the lights out of Las Pegasus with my amazing magical prowess!”
After a brief pause, the unicorn fell to her front hooves with a disapproving look and a groan of frustration.
“NO! This isn't good enough! How is Trixie supposed to impress the likes of LP when she can scarcely initiate a proper presentation?”
She kicked at the floor, noticing she had spoken in third person yet again. Ever since the “incident” with the Alicorn Amulet and her intimate personal quest on the path to humbleness, she had reluctantly ceased referring to herself in the third person. Such a slip-up could only be attributed to her nerves, and it irritated her greatly.
“You can handle this, Trixie. Second person feels more natural, doesn't it?” She chuckled nervously, followed by a quick glance towards her half empty glass. She quickly rejected the idea; the last thing she needed was a drunken performance. Magicians whose main shtick was alcoholism were few and far between. Not to mention the last one she had the displeasure of observing had been eaten alive by a manticore. Trixie had barely had the nerve to attempt such a feat while sober, so obviously alcohol would do her no services with her current predicament. The aforementioned late magician had gone by many artistic names, but Trixie usually referred to him as 'dad.'
Shaking those thoughts from her head, Trixie began to walk back and forth across the room, accompanied only by the sound of her hooves colliding with the soft red carpet beneath them.
Why, of all things, had she forgotten about her act's entrance? Or better yet, why had she decided her introductory act was not good enough for Las Pegasus's audience? Her opening act was perfect, it had always been. At least, it had been for the numerous towns and villages she generally performed in after waltzing through, uninvited. However, it seemed that her insecurities had finally caught up with her just hours prior to her first appearance in an honest-to-goodness professional establishment.
She quite vividly remembered their first encounter – her weighty ego precariously balanced above her trembling legs as she waited before the door of Ludo Roll, owner of the casino.
The well-dressed stallion, courteous as a gentlecolt of old and sporting an impeccable white suit, gave Trixie a most effusive hoofshake and offered a smile of undeniable sincerity. That was enough to put most of her fears to rest and, much to her present dismay, get a little cocky.
Ludo had inquired about her area of expertise, her expectations, and her conditions. She, of course, with all the talent of an errant performer, related her vast catalog of adventures and experiences with the verbiage of a snake oil salespony and yet without a single lie. Bit by bit, Mr. Roll’s level of interest began to overflow, as did the exuberance of Trixie's tales. And eventually, drunken from her own ego, from the undivided attention of a powerful pony of boundless influence and talent whose judgment would decide her very fate, having felt necessary to sneak in one last monumental anecdote, one layered with so many veils of convenient omissions that it might as well have been obscured by a wall of concrete and rebar, she dropped the bomb. The occasion on which she, The Great and Powerful Trixie, had defeated Princess Celestia's protégé, the Element of Magic herself, Twilight Sparkle in a magic duel. Of course, this particular weaving of her fantastical victory neglected to mention this course of events having occurred prior to the Princess’ coronation, or how Trixie's own abilities had been greatly enhanced by an ancient eldritch artifact of dark magic. Her explanation also failed to note how said dark magic had nearly driven her to insanity. Ludo, of course, was not a fool; a stallion of his position, and what's more, a stallion who had earned his position in such a callous city could not afford to be one.
Trixie was then forced to admit that Twilight had been 'but a mere unicorn' at the time of their encounter. This was not sufficient to ease Ludo’s concerns, however, and he resumed his scrutiny of such obvious boasting. Unfortunately for the casino owner, while he was well-versed in investments, logistics, talent-seeking, and just the slightest bit of tax evasion, the extent of his knowledge regarding black magic artifacts and their corrupting tendencies left some to be desired.
However, the veteran had a good eye for lies, and he perceived no degree of outright deception in Trixie’s gaze, much to his surprise. At first, he attributed it to her abilities as a performer, but he had attended to theater plays, from the likes of Manehattan to Canterlot, to the most remote confines capable of hosting such an event. He was an educated fellow, after all. He could see through not only bad actors, but good ones, as well; a curse for any enthusiast of the performance arts. And this pony, notoriously talented in the art of deceit, could say for certain that the blue unicorn before him with only a cart to her name was acting in sincerity.
In conclusion, Trixie was hired to give “the performance of the century.”
Trixie briefly glanced once more toward the two other empty glasses. Despite the contempt she felt for her past self, she did feel the tiniest glimmer of gratitude; among her conditions of service she had managed to include “unlimited access to the bar throughout the entirety of her contract,” which would continue until midday the following day.
Before her conscious had the time to comprehend, a second gulp of the enticing beverage had descended to her stomach with a warm and comforting sensation, only to quickly fade to a dull scratching and burning.
The frantic pony sat on her haunches, rubbing her temples with her hooves, her brow furrowed out of both frustration and fear.
Why could she not have remained quiet? Why did she always stretch the truth to such extents? Even if she knew better, a small voice sounding from the back of her brain pointed directly to the party responsible for her current predicament.
Twilight Sparkle.
She was the one who pushed her to her limits; she had left Trixie no other choice but to enlist use of the Amulet; Twilight was the rival whom she could not let go of, regardless of their vast difference in ability. It had been by the mention of her name, and that alone, that Ludo had considered Trixie for the job; not by her own merits or achievements, no. It all circled back toward Twilight Sparkle once more.
She had finally obtained what she craved most: an opportunity to perform before the select masses of Las Pegasus, the chance to engrave her name upon everypony's memory, the opportunity to see her fame reverberate within the walls of the city of sin – so loudly that its echoes would reach the farthest borders of Equestria with its promising and seductive tune. All this and more had fallen into Trixie's lap, but, had it not been for Twilight, she would have accomplished nothing.
And yet, Twilight would now be the cause for her collapse into humiliation, ignominy, and ultimately, obscurity.
But before she would let herself travel any further down that line of thought, Trixie was capable of stopping herself. She had matured; she couldn’t put all the blame on Twilight. It was entirely her own doing, making promises she couldn't fulfill. It was only her who had set the bar beyond what she could reach.
The clock kept ticking; fifteen minutes until the curtain would rise – before she had to confront her awaiting audience.
Trixie battled with temptation to drop to her knees and cry.
Before she could descend to the point of stroking her mane and arguing with her own reflection, a knock on the door pulled her from the depths of another mental breakdown.
“W-who is it?” Trixie asked, fighting to suppress her trembling voice.
“Ah, Miss Lulamoon?” The gauche voice of a pony accustomed to the screams of guest stars resonated through the wooden door.
“Yes, come in.” Trixie was already standing up. Her posture, though slightly stiff, radiated confidence.
“He-hello Miss Lulamoon.” The young mare revealed herself; her body language screamed, 'Intern! You can yell at me if you want, I need the experience to get a real job!' with every movement.
“Oh please, call me Trixie,” she announced with a proud, yet welcoming smirk.
“Okay, Trixie. You see, there's been a problem.”
Trixie’s heart skipped a beat. If the event had been canceled, perhaps she could avoid public humiliation after all.
“And what would that be?” she responded, giving the best impression of coldness she could muster. After so many years of ham, subtlety was not her strongest trait.
“It appears your… magical equipment is… unavailable at the moment.”
Trixie’s smile suddenly and frighteningly turned into a pair of lips forcefully stretched to the corners of her face.
“What?” Her pupils shrank.
“Well, it's… gone. And we don't know where it is. Maybe it was stolen, maybe it was taken for repairs, I don't know. The point is, it's not here anymore.”
Trixie's entire body shuddered with a feeling she hadn't felt in ages.
“O…kay. So, show's canceled, I guess!” she laughed nervously. “It's sad I have to disappoint you all, but hey, what can you do, right?” her voice trailed off into another uneasy chuckle.
“Actually, Mr. Roll believes a unicorn of your talent should have no troubles despite such a setback, so he expects you to continue with the show, regardless.”
Trixie felt something inside her cracking and snapping. If there were any sort of muscle that controlled sanity, she was quite certain she had just broken it.
“Why? Why?!” Trixie yelled. “Where in Equestria did he get that idea?! WHO DOES THAT? HOW DID HE EVEN GET THIS CASINO IN THE FIRST PLACE? WITH MANAGEMENT LIKE THIS HOW HAS THE PLACE NOT FALLEN DOWN ON YOU ALREADY?”
The mare flinched as though she'd been struck by lightning. But then, the true storm commenced.
“He believes your raw magic alone should be more impressive than any card tricks, everypony here follows 'The Show Must Go On' policy, he won it in a rigged poker game, the casino was built by unpaid workers under direct instruction by the local Mafia, and according to them the corpses within the walls make up for the lack of concrete the building suffers from!” the mare belted out in a single breath.
Trixie’s mouth ran dry in an instant.
“Wait, what?!”
“I JUST KEEP LEARNING SECRETS TO AVOID GETTING FIRED BUT ALWAYS END UP SPILLING THEM OUT WHENEVER SOMEONE SCREAMS AT ME!”
The mare then darted out through the door faster than Trixie's eyes could follow.
Trixie stood there, the intern's tirade still resonating through her aching head. She leaned forward, noticing herself shaking as drops of sweat rolled down her cheeks.
Her trance was broken just five seconds later, when she discerned a slight movement from the doorway out of the corner of her eye.
The mare ever so slowly and timidly stuck her head back into the dressing room. Their eyes quickly met, tears brimming in the young mare's, and she visibly fought the urge to recoil. However, summoning all her bravery, she uttered the following words:
“By the way, you're out in fifteen minutes, so... get ready.”
Before Trixie was given the opportunity to object, the mare had vanished, and Trixie suspected that would be their last encounter. Probably because neither of them would be working in that casino ever again.
“Well, thanks!” Trixie yelled into the hallway, half aware that her words would not be reaching anyone. “GOOD TO KNOW I STILL HAVE FIFTEEN MORE MINUTES TO PANIC! HOW VERY CONSIDERATE!”
Trixie slammed the door shut with her telekinesis, shaking the entire room.
She then proceeded to make the very most of the following ten minutes.
She hit her head against the wall for 2 minutes.
She considered jumping out the bathroom window for 30 seconds.
She spent another 30 seconds attempting to configure her cape into a functional parachute.
She spent the next minute wondering the degree to which breaking all her limbs would be detrimental to her career.
The next two minutes were dedicated to mentally adapting all her tricks such that they could be performed from a stretcher.
Another minute was spent contemplating the financial implications of hiring an assistant to carry her around and help for all her tricks.
Next, she took a minute to debate the possibility of convincing Starlight to ditch Twilight's studies and live the magician's life with her.
Following that, Trixie lamented her lack of a dragon assistant, like Twilight's, so she could contact Starlight in that very moment. Said sentiment lasted roughly one minute.
Finally, during the tenth minute, she mentally reprimanded herself for not bringing Starlight along and saving her the mental anguish she had gone through devising a plan that involved voluntary crippling.
Her internal struggle and scolding was suddenly put on hold by three dry knocks upon her door.
All of her frustration, desperation, and despair, combined in a helplessly volatile concoction, exploded with the wrath of a cosmic tantrum unique to performing artists.
“I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF A PANIC ATTACK RIGHT NOW, DO YOU MIND?”
The only response she received was another knock on her door.
Trixie slid toward the door of her dressing room, her four hooves never separating from the carpet.
She slowly twisted the doorknob with her magic, fearing what eyes would receive her on the other side.
Before she could turn it, however, her visitor knocked once more.
Like a cowering filly, hiding behind the legs of her mother in the presence of a stranger, Trixie put her fears behind her and brashly opened the door, yelling out before taking the time to see who was there.
“What? Didn't your boss say fifteen minutes? It’s a little early, don'tcha think?”
She was, however, slightly taken aback by the presence before her.
It was a stallion, more advanced than her in years, but still retaining that youthful spark in his eyes. His red irises stared at her mischievously with a coy grin plastered across his face, to match. They sported intelligence, hidden behind a goofy demeanor.
His coat was brown, contrasted by a black mane and goatee showing traces of gray. A black pinstriped vest covered his torso, leaving his forelegs, haunches and back legs exposed. The stallion bore a horn which he brandished with apparent pride.
He did not allow himself to be offended or even remotely surprised by Trixie’s bluntness; if anything, he appeared pleased.
Seeing his smile broaden sent a shiver down Trixie’s spine.
“Oh, I apologize,” said the stranger, “I didn't mean to startle you. I simply happened to hear about your current… um… predicament. You seem to have made some claims you're having a tough time backing up, correct?”
“No. No I did not,” Trixie flatly responded, the lie escaping through her teeth so loudly she could practically hear it whistling.
“Oh, please, Ms. Lulamoon. I can tell when I´m being lied to; I have a good deal of experience on the subject, as a matter of fact. But trust me when I say I have no involvement whatsoever with the owners of this establishment. I'm simply a helpful fellow, offering a caring hoof to anypony who might require it.”
Trixie contemplated the unicorn with suspicion.
Despite recognizing her hesitation, the unicorn knew he held her undivided attention. Thus, he continued to prattle.
“And I believe myself capable of providing the assistance you need at this very moment. After all, you wouldn't want to repeat the incident of the Ursa Minor, now would you?”
Trixie’s pupils dilated, much to the delight of the newcomer.
“Yes, everypony knows, Ms. Lulamoon. At least, those who know your name. Funny, isn't it? How you're only recognized for your failures. And here you are tonight, about to surpass yourself in terms of humiliation. It's quite priceless, if you ask my opinion.”
Trixie gritted her teeth; no matter how much she wished to slam the door on his smug visage, she knew he was right.
“What's your point?”
“Ah, cutting to the chase. For such a theatrical mare, I expected a tad more flimflam before you actually asked that question.” He watched her expectantly, awaiting a retort, but quite clearly the mare was not in the mood to compete with his snark. “Well, I know you've promised a show you cannot give. That your equipment has been tragically… misplaced. And that in five minutes, you’ll be pushed out onto the stage with absolutely nothing on your hooves. Either that or the world’s briefest disappearing act. However, I would like to offer you an alternative. I, young mare, happen to be in possession of quite the magical talent, and it could be of your service.”
Trixie’s suspicion only grew as his monologue continued. His mysterious entrance hadn't helped much, either. She was a showmare; she understood the principles of a proper introduction and the power of a good first impression. This stallion clearly had something planned – something she could not quite discern yet. But whatever it was, it involved saving her from the fire she had lit under herself. Could she trust someone who took such delight in reminding her of her past and present failures? On somepony who, by some mysterious means, had such a clear understanding of her current situation?
Trixie’s nerves were on point; her eyebrows arched to their limits. Her visitor's eyes gleamed with anticipation; she expected that he would not interrupt the tense silence between them until she asked the question they both knew would follow.
“And what do you want in return?”
A chill descended from her nape, down her back, all the way to the tip of her tail as she saw how his smile stretched beyond what should be possible on any normal equine face.
“I ask of you only the smallest of favors. A trifling matter, really. One day I will need something, and on that day, I will come find you. Then, and only then, will you understand and fulfill your end of the bargain. Sounds reasonable, does it not?”
Still suffering the waves of chills resonating through her body from that grotesque parody of a smile, Trixie pieced together the nature of the deal being proposed to her. On the surface, it indeed sounded promising. Given her current predicament, only a fool would reject such a miracle. However, something inside her screamed, begged not to agree. What he requested was ambiguous enough to guarantee that whatever the stranger (for she could perceive he was no ordinary pony) desired of her would undoubtedly be of a pernicious nature.
Suddenly, it dawned on her. The realization, bright as the first ray of sunlight after the blackest of nights. His intricate knowledge of her past, his uncanny anatomy, those eyes. She now understood what was going on.
“I´d like to ask something first,” Trixie said with confidence anew.
“Oh, I can already tell, little filly. But I won´t tell you what plan to ask of you. If I did, it wouldn't be any fun at all, now would it?”
Trixie smiled coyly.
“Oh, but I wasn't going to ask you that.” The supposed 'unicorn’s’ expression shifted with intrigue “I just want to know your name.”
The stallion’s smile wavered ever so slightly, but his temperament was unperturbed.
“Of course. You may call me Absurd Bet.”
Silence settled between the two ponies. It was short-lived, however, and quickly broken by Trixie's snickering.
“What?” the unicorn asked, irritation seeping through his grin.
“Really?” Trixie asked, barely able to contain herself.
“Really.”
“Really?”
“Really!”
And finally, she dropped the bomb she had been holding for a while now.
“Discord.”
Absurd looked around him in alarm, as if that word had been a warning of an incoming explosion.
“Where?!”
“Discord, knock it off. It's so obviously you.”
“No, it's not!” Bet shot back in defense. “I'm nothing like that fool!”
“Discord, really. That trick might work on little foals, but I'm far too clever for that. I'm an illusionist. Did you truly not expect me to see through that ridiculous disguise?”
Her statement was immediately tailed with a thunderous guffaw. The creature before her shifted its features; his silly, albeit chilling smile was gone, replaced by a scowl of bared teeth.
“Come on, Discord. Don't be such a sore loser. You tried and I beat you; don't blame yourself when even your powers do not surpass the great and powerful Trixie’s sagacity!”
After the terror he had personally inflicted upon her, after the trauma she had suffered the full hour prior, with the prospect of utter humiliation awaiting just outside that door, this small victory over the obscenely irritating god of chaos was quite cathartic – and exactly what she needed. Seeing his expression at that moment was easily worth being transformed into a giant carrot. Heck, she could probably use that to help pull a rabbit from her hat, somehow. The very thought of it was enough to intensify her laughter from a chuckle to outright cackling.
“To her credit, that was a rather poor impression, ‘Mr. Absurd’,” a masculine voice resonated behind her, carried on through an ominous echo. Trixie’s cheer dropped dead instantly, her eyes fixated on the wall.
Slowly but steadily, she saw two brightly orange stains emerge from the formerly pristine white wall behind her. The wall then began to melt in the areas surrounding the revolting stains. No – not melt. Something was emerging, as though the wall were its skin. The formless entity began to solidify, gradually adopting the body of a long snake with an equine head. The orange glow collected near what was evidently becoming the creature’s ears. Two mismatched arms emerged from the once flat surface, sinking their claws back into the wall. With a final push, the beast emerged completely, giving way to two legs and a tail with a fluffy tip. Before Trixie and her visitor stood the physical embodiment of dissonance, still the same color as the wall he had emerged from.
Trixie didn't need for the being to recolor himself to recognize who he was.
The Master of Chaos himself had emerged from her wall.
She turned back to the pony she had been conversing with, who, much to her surprise, bore a look of pure horror engraved upon his visage.
“Ah, I am terribly sorry for interrupting your ever-so-interesting conversation, my dearest Trixie, but I could no longer bear the burning in my ears.”
Trixie turned around to look at him, and noticed the flaming glow on Discord’s ears once more.
“But if you’re here, then who’s…”
“Stercus sanctum!” Absurd cut Trixie off. Both she and Discord gave him a curious look. Before either of them could realize, the last remnants of him were the echoes of his hooves against the hallway’s floor, followed by the unmistakable odor of sulfur as he bolted into the night, never to be seen again.
Trixie was too baffled to profess any coherent thought but one.
“Who in Tartarus was that?!”
Discord shrugged, “He was probably just a demon.”
Trixie gave him the look of the highest level of confusion and disbelief, “A DEMON?”
“Yes, Trixie, a demon.”
Trixie felt an intense urge to shake her head in exasperation at the madness unraveling before her eyes, but she composed herself.
“So, a demon.”
“Yes. Goodness, I certainly hope you didn't trade your hearing for a favor from him or something like that.”
Trixie ignored his last remark.
“And what did he want?!”
Discord shrugged once more. He then lifted his lion paw and, as he enunciated, raised a finger with each hypothesis.
“He would have probably asked for your soul. Maybe to carve out your eyeballs. Or perhaps he needed to hire someone to act as entertainer for his little filly's birthday party.”
“Excuse me?! Trixie is far above mere foal's entertainment!” she replied with indignation.
“Why, are you afraid they'll figure out your tricks?” Discord shot back with a smirk.
“No, they're probably too busy hiring clowns; I'm sure you're quite familiar with that business,” Trixie answered smugly.
Discord chuckled with what could only be described as the antithesis of amusement and the epitome of bitter sarcasm.
“Very clever. Either way, his kin only present themselves to those literally dripping with desperation, so I simply have to ask; what sort of trouble are you in, exactly?”
As he spoke, Discord rested his lion paw upon Trixie’s neck, his snout dangerously close to hers. She attempted to lean back, in order to distance herself, but his arm wouldn't budge. An involuntary blush made its way to her cheeks, much to her irritation.
“I imagine that sort of desperation, as you put it, would have brought you here as well.”
Discord rolled his eyes in irritation.
“You know, just because I am named Discord doesn't mean I spend all of my time pursuing the despair of others. That's just a side pleasure; I am a draconequus of many facets.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Oh, well, you see…” Much to her relief, Discord released her, snapping his fingers and instantly dressing himself in a suit where purple and orange fought a desperate battle for supremacy; the war's foremost victim being taste. “After being four-dimensional for… well, hell if I know – it's rather difficult keeping track of time when time is a part of you – I felt like indulging myself in what night life Equestria has to offer. And what better place to do so than Las Pegasus? And as I walked down the streets, cursing one or two sets of dice to only give snake eyes in passing, I stumbled across the most peculiar sign! One with your face on it, Trixie. Announcing you as the greatest magician in all of Equestria. I, of course, needed to know what ABYSMAL lie you had told in order to be hired. So here I am!”
His high roller suit dissipated the moment he concluded his monologue.
Trixie had patiently listened to him, her left eyebrow twitching slightly at the accusation directed toward her truthfulness.
“That makes sense. About as much sense as you're capable of, anyway,” she corrected herself. “But why were you in the wall?!”
“You should be thankful I was, because as I see it, you were nearly ready to shake hooves with Mr. Pottymouth back there.”
“How long where you there?” Trixie questioned sternly.
“Long enough to feel slightly inconvenienced by the corpse they're keeping hidden in the wall.”
Trixie chose to ignore that last part, hoping it was one of Discord’s sick jokes.
“Again, why are you here?”
“I simply wanted to cheer my friend on before her big show, naturally.”
“And you've done a wonderful job so far, haven't you?” Trixie's words oozed with sarcasm as corrosive as acid.
“Normally I would have, but I don't think any number of pats on the back would suffice to rescue you from the gaping hole you've dug yourself into,” Discord replied, wielding his own blade of mordancy.
Trixie was forced to concede as much.
“You already know, don't you?” Trixie grumbled, burying her muzzle between her forelegs.
“Oh, I do. I so do.” Discord smiled, exposing a set of dangerously sharp teeth. He then floated into the air and rolled over himself, a bout of laughter erupting from his throat.
“The way you ‘lied’ was precious! Truly, something worthy of myself. Perhaps I should desist my little project with Twilight and pick you up instead.” His laughter died instantly, and his smile took on a somber tone. Still levitating, Discord floated towards her, red pupils fixed upon her. “You would definitely make a better fit.”
There was a glimmer in Trixie’s eyes – one that betrayed fear and the slightest spark of interest whose tiny flame was quickly extinguished.
To Discord, spirit of disharmony, and with sagacity for these matters, this did not go unnoticed. The creature chuckled sinisterly.
“I see the one-sided rivalry still exists within you to a certain extent, does it not?” he said, soft as silk.
Trixie shook her head, clearly uncomfortable.
“What does it matter to you, anyway, ‘friend’?” Trixie exclaimed defensively. The draconequus raised his paws with coy regret. “Since you’re here, you could at least help me, couldn't you?”
A blinding light flashed between Discord’s mismatched claws. Once it dispersed, an umbrella was left in its place. Discord opened it towards her nonchalantly, revealing an image of her face, tearful and babbling like an infant.
“If you want my help, I suppose I could give you something to protect you when they start throwing tomatoes.”
Trixie was barely able to contain herself; had her willpower been any less, the draconequus would have sported a beautiful hoof-shaped bruise on his repulsive face. Instead, she glared at him with an intensity that could melt steel and blind whomever was foolish enough to maintain eye contact. Discord appeared somewhat impressed, though he was more greatly moved than he let on.
In terms of angry looks, I think she’s only beaten by Celestia and Fluttershy.
“But what kind of friend would I be if I provided only that?” he asked out loud, placing his hands on his hips.
Suddenly, much to the surprise of them both, the door swung open. A frantic-looking mare was on the other side, one whom Trixie instantly recognized as the intern she had traded screams with fifteen minutes ago.
“YOU'RE UP, MISS LULAMOON! HURRY!”
Trixie felt her stomach sink so low she could just about feel it between her hind legs. Her face lost its color; cold sweat flooded her forehead and slipped down her cheeks. Her heart thunderously beat twice in succession, only to then immediately give pause.
“We're in the middle of a private CONVERSATION!” Discord exclaimed with the sound of a thousand voices, his eyes glowing with a burning red that came from Tartarus itself.
The poor intern went through a faster and more immediate version of what had befallen Trixie, then collapsing to the floor, unconscious.
Discord’s eldritch yell was enough to wake Trixie from her stasis and leave an incessant ringing in her ears. She then set her eyes upon the innocent mare with a pity that quickly vanished; she had bigger problems of her own.
“How incredibly rude,” Discord muttered, looking at the wreck of a pony sprawled out on the floor before them. “Well, Trixie, where were we?”
“Discord, didn't you hear her?!” Trixie asked frantically, wondering if she herself would be able to hear again. “I´m done for; I´m so dead! I have to go out there and I have nothing!”
“Well, that's what we were in the middle of discussing, dummy,” Discord responded in a patronizing tone, patting Trixie on the head. She slapped his paw away.
“Well, there's no time for that now. I have to go out there or my reputation will be ruined forever!”
Discord snickered; fortunately, Trixie couldn't hear him. She looked around like a gazelle trapped amidst a pride of lions, unable to escape and watching impotently as her fate slowly approached with dripping fangs. To be honest, she would have chosen the lions any day over the current catastrophe.
She sighed with bitter resignation.
“Discord…” she paused, choking for a second before continuing, “I'd like that umbrella back.”
Her voice quivered and her eyes welled with tears. Looking down, she angrily closed them, but not before a few tears spilled over. The moment the drops reached the carpet and left a miniscule stain, Trixie gave in and broke down crying, acrid and full of shame. It was lost – everything. She had worked throughout her entire life with hopes of making it to this stage, and at the precipice of realizing her ambition, she couldn't compete. She had taken easy routes in the past, most of which led to failures, but such failures lacked permanence, at least. This one, however, would stain her career and her life indefinitely.
She choked up, bitterly thinking that it shouldn't hurt so much, that failure was an sour fruit whose taste she should already be numb to. But no matter how much she denied it, the pain was present in every fiber of her being.
No longer would she be taken seriously. No longer would she be able to act before crowded theaters of eager audiences. She would be remembered as but another incident of a small fish in a large pond, a cautionary tale of why you shouldn't bite more than you could chew. That would be her legacy; an example of what not to do. Of what not to be. Of a disgrace nopony would want to become.
The blue mare sobbed into her hooves, hiding her face from the surely joyous spectator behind her. That narcissistic, egocentric, cruel draconequus who was probably having the time of his life witnessing her wallowing in the ashes of her own miserable failure.
Her forelegs were wet with tears. She didn't even think to use a tissue; she merely sat and awaited the moment somepony would find her and drag her to either the stage or out onto the street. She nearly hoped it would just happen already.
When she felt a warm touch upon her shoulder, she thought that somepony had arrived. That was, until she noticed it was not the touch of a hoof, but a paw.
Him, of course.
Trixie uncovered her face, but did not lift her head.
“Wh-what?” Trixie sniveled, “Do you have any other stupid jokes?” She wasted no effort looking up, concentrating on the floor beneath her.
No answer came.
“C-come on! I'm all yours! J-just say it already. Comp-pare me to a watering can, to a whiny filly. Come on, you're dying to do it!” Anger tainted her voice.
“…”
“I'm sorry,” came a low, raspy voice.
Trixie winced, her eyes slowly widening at the incredulous circumstances. Had he just…?
“Fluttershy always tells me I tend to go too far – that she understands my way of having fun includes mocking other ponies, but that I should have my limits. I… just wanted to annoy you. I didn't want to make you cry. I’m sorry.”
Trixie finally looked up cautiously, fully expecting to be ambushed with a pie to the face, or perhaps a 'gotcha' and a puerile fit of laughter. Instead, she saw Discord with a solemn expression and something she could only describe as… regret?
She cast her gaze downward once more.
“It doesn't matter anymore, anyway. There’s no way to turn this around. I have less than a minute to be out there.”
Untacking the sober expression he bore, Discord's mouth stretched into a slight smile that glowed with a sense of ambition and mischief alike.
“Well, Trixie, you seem to underestimate how long a minute can be.”
Shortly after uttering those ominous words, Discord snapped his fingers.
Trixie felt the room wobble in a way that defied explanation. The space around her trembled in much the same way as a pool of water disrupted by a large stone breaking its surface. Waves crossed through an invisible surface and rapidly enveloped the room. Color faded from everything crossed by the extradimensional ripples, leaving the room in grayscale. Trixie could not believe her eyes. As the waves dispersed and faded, the world became blurry; she initially supposed this to be from her tear-filled eyes, but soon realized this was not the case. However, just as quickly as this strange phenomenon had begun, the room returned to its former coloration and general normality.
The magician slowly and cautiously rose to her hooves. She peered around with apprehension, unsure of what to expect. Every piece of furniture was in its proper place. The mirror stood there, uncracked. She gazed more scrupulously at her reflection, expecting to see something wrong. And yet, her hat sat atop her head without a single alteration, her cape was crisp and clean, as it was before, her eyes appeared slightly reddened, but her recent bout of tears posed a likely cause. She didn't sport any extra eyeballs from what she could tell, all her teeth were in place, and she still counted four hooves beneath her. Trixie began to grow frustrated, nearly wishing she'd spot some anomaly, if only to put an end to her search. Her eyes came to rest, inspecting Discord’s reflection. He smirked while facing her, showing signs of childish pride, appearing to know something nopony else knows. She began to raise a hoof when she noticed something – something subtle, yet unnerving. With each movement she made, there was a small trail of color behind, as if the light were slow to catch up with her. She studied her own hoof, waving it to and fro, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Whatever was happening was only perceivable through the mirror.
Annoyed and slightly disturbed, Trixie turned around and shot Discord a questioning look. He responded with his slowly enlarging grin.
“What did you do?” Trixie asked with a good deal of reservation.
Discord chuckled.
“Why don't you take a look out the door and see for yourself?” He leaned forward, inviting her towards the door with a gesture of his claws.
Cautiously, Trixie advanced toward the door. As she looked outside, she could feel Discord’s gaze pressing against the back of her skull.
The first glimpse sent a chill down her spine and heaving up her throat. A pony was standing midway down the corridor, fierce rage enveloping his visage, brow taking a deep V shape, and sparks of fury shooting from his eyes. Next, she noticed his equipment; a magical communicator rested on his ears with an adjoined microphone just in front of his mouth. Said mouth was open and the teeth it contained were visible, as though he had been caught mid-sentence in a highly unpleasant conversation.
It finally hit Trixie – the stallion was entirely immobile. Like a sculpture, he'd been recorded midway towards her dressing room, an intense expression of urgency and impatience plastered across his face. It did not take Trixie long to realize he was coming for her. That could only mean…
She turned around, showing a paradoxical amalgam of emotions ranging from disbelief and fear to utter joy and gratitude.
Discord returned her look with what looked to be an amicable smile and a goofy thumbs up.
“Wha… how... you…” Trixie stuttered.
Discord placed an eagle claw below her jaw and gently closed it.
“What did I do and how? Why dear, I'd be delighted to tell you!” he exclaimed with the enthusiasm of a small child.
“You stopped time!?” Trixie yelled, somehow compressing all of her conflicting emotions into those three words.
Discord looked at her with disappointment, as though he'd been denied his fifth ride on the same roller coaster within a single day. His skin began to lose color, gradually becoming transparent. Discord's body then rapidly inflated until he exploded, filling the room with bubbles in shapes that defied what should be possible, perhaps even for Pinkie Pie.
Trixie’s eyes darted back and forth throughout the room in alarm as a single woeful voice emanated from each floating form simultaneously.
“Oh, poo. You just had to burst my bubble, didn't you?”
Trixie’s concern dropped dead as though struck by lightning, leaving behind a deadpan expression that gave no room for doubt as to how pleased she was with the horrid visual pun.
Each bubble fizzed and reshaped itself into a replica of Discord’s head. Each one bore a different expression.
“What, too obvious?” One of them asked.
Trixie resigned to nod, her gazed unaltered in stony disapproval.
Discord quickly returned to his usual form, reappearing with an accepting smile and a shrug.
“Well, you did guess. I stopped time.”
Trixie’s relief suddenly gave way to an unreasonable frustration. This was far and above the greatest turn of events that could have befallen her current predicament, and still, a fervor rose through every fiber from her body with the fury of a volcano. Unfortunately for Discord, he sat amidst the crater.
“How do you even do these things?! Seriously, what in Tartarus?!”
Discord let out a malicious laugh, amused by the illusionist’s irritation and overall bad temper. He then proceeded to wrap himself around her as the rarest, most expensive living scarf in the world, shielding Trixie's ears from outside eyes – despite being, at least for the moment, completely alone in the world.
“Do you want to know a secret?” he whispered intimately, as though about to share the very mysteries of the cosmos. He licked his lips with anticipation. “Twilight can do it too.”
The reaction was immediate. Trixie jumped out from Discord’s grip and, before even reaching the ground, closed her eyes and began to scream. She stomped on the floor with her forelegs, clenching her teeth and audibly releasing as much frustration as her lungs would allow.
Every muscle of her face tightened to its limit and Discord gave pause to enjoy the spectacle before him; this was truly superior to any of the shows being offered throughout the surrounding luxury casinos.
“She might prove an acceptable substitute for Twilight after all. This one is much easier to provoke,” Discord mused with glee.
However, almost as though reading his thoughts, Trixie quickly composed herself. She firmly placed all four hooves on the floor, unclenched her jaw, soothed the expression on her lips and relaxed her eyelids. Taking a deep breath inward, Trixie proceeded to exhale slowly and calmly. After a few iterations, she looked back to the draconequus, clad in her most confident grin.
“I don't care,” she flatly responded with clear remaining vestiges of her wrath.
Discord raised an eyebrow, betraying a hint of skepticism. Not a word left his lips; he needn't go any further.
“Anyway,” Trixie proclaimed with emphasis, steering attention from her little outburst, “why are you doing this?”
“Because we're friends, aren't we?” A pair of T-Shirts materialized over the top of the two creatures, each proudly emblazoned with an image of the other and half a heart, respectively. Trixie’s T-Shirt also bore the letters 'VB' and Discord’s 'FF'. He then slid up next to Trixie, forcing the two T-Shirts together and completing the message.
Trixie politely but firmly pushed him away with an equally forced smile.
“I… don't think we're quite there yet.” Keeping her dignity while begging for the elder spirit’s help was no easy task; for a moment she wished the demon had stayed.
“Oh, nonsense, my dearest phony! We share a bond forged by the flames of battle and companionship; the best kind of friendship! Just like Fluttershy and her besties. Why, I'm certain it's only a matter of time before we're be able to use the Elements of Harmony ourselves.” There was a hint of repulsion in Discord's voice at the word “Harmony,” but the majority of the phrase was expressed with childlike ecstasy.
Stretching her titanic willpower to its limits, Trixie avoided making any sarcastic comments. Not the best time, she decided.
“Su-sure,” she responded, shifting her eyes nervously. “And, as a friend, would you do me a favor –because we´re friends!– and tell me just how you stopped time, exactly?”
“I don't know…” Discord pondered, stroking his goatee, “Do you have a degree in ‘Advanced Magical Studies and Their Applications for Physics’?”
“No.”
“Have you ever studied atomic composition of matter?”
“No.”
“Have you ever received ANY level of higher education?”
“I… dropped out of Magical University my first year.” Technically she was about to be expelled, but she quit on the spot before they had the chance to inform her, disappearing in a cloud of smoke. This particular tendency of hers was one of the many, many reasons they did not want her around.
“Oh well, don´t worry. I don't have a diploma, and yet I hold a pretty high position in the cosmic hierarchy!” Though bombastic and loud, there was a strange, subtle kindness in Discord’s voice Trixie deeply appreciated.
“Let's just say that I've accelerated every single atomic and subatomic particle in this room to the point where a thousand years could go by in here and not a single second would pass out there.”
“Does that really make sense?” Trixie's tone shared a mix of amazement and disbelief.
Discord gave her a knowing grin that reached the corners of his mouth.
“Even I don't know that.” And, despite his jocular manner of response, there was such certainty in his voice that Trixie never doubted, not even for a second, the sincerity of his demented statement.
Silence then engulfed the room as their temporary ruler, secluding the two individuals behind fragile crystalline walls that, though easily broken, inspired a sense of respect. Unfortunately for King Silence, his only two subjects were… these two.
“Well, now that that's out of the way, how precisely do you intend to help me?”
“I have a few ideas,” Discord responded with his characteristically cocky smirk.
A flash of light flooded the room and Trixie instinctively shielded her eyes. Upon regaining her sense of sight, she found herself before her. Except this new Trixie's head happened to occupy roughly half the room.
Trixie stared at herself in disbelief, jaw agape at the latest of Discord's surprises.
“Well,” a masculine voice uncanny for that body emerged from her big-headed doppelganger, “I needed some extra space to fit your massive ego”.
The real Trixie scrunched her nose and furrowed her brow, staring back at the rude imitation with a coldness capable of freezing Celestia's Sun.
“Oh, learn to take a joke,” Discord responded in mock indignation as his (Trixie’s?) head deflated to regular proportions. “I'll do it your way. Now, how about this? I go disguised as you, dazzle the audience with my impeccable magical flair and leave them screaming in delight, mouths wide enough to fit Celestia’s huge bu-!”
“If I may interject,” Trixie interrupted, “that'd be worse than not showing up at all.”
Discord's eyes acquired a tone of color that Trixie could only manage to describe as “offended” (to be fair, the possibility that Discord had the ability to induce synesthesia could not even shock her at this point).
“And why would that be? Are you afraid I'll steal the spotlight?” Discord maliciously inquired.
“Being in the spotlight for tomato-throwing target practice isn't as great an honor as one might think,” Trixie responded, deadpan. Discord lost his cocky expression to the kind of grumpiness one would expect of a filly who'd been denied a piece of candy. “But that’s not it – not all of it, anyway. You couldn't perform if your life depended on it.”
“I beg your pardon?” Discord grumbled, arms crossed over what ponies might reluctantly refer to as his chest.
“I've seen your stand-up routine, and it was amidst a literal matter of life and death,” Trixie pointed out. A petulant smile crept across her face.
“How'd that end, again?”
“Ugh…” Discord groaned as he massaged his brow with two fingers from his lion paw. “My art is unappreciated in my time.”
“Given your immortality, I'd say ‘your time’ is ‘forever’.” If Trixie’s smirk were to grow any further, it would have snapped her face clean in two.
“Fine!” Discord yelled out in exasperation, throwing his hands in the air. They then fell flat to his sides, long as they were, and his shoulders sank slightly. His mouth was a fine line and his eyes exuded a degree of irritation necessitating a conscious effort to not accidentally set fire to his surroundings. “You win. We'll do it your way.”
Discord then proceeded to sit on the air with his legs crossed and his tail wrapped around his body.
“Finally, you listen to the professionals. Discord, you may possess power beyond mortal comprehension,” Discord added 'and immortal', which he hid behind a clearly fake cough, “but nopony knows of the concepts of suspense, drama, and keeping an audience in awe better than The Great and Powerful Trrrrr- I mean, me.”
Discord raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. If Trixie took offense to his gesture, she did not let it hinder her in the slightest.
“Sadly, I'm no match in terms of raw magical prowess; I currently am and previously have been bested in contests of magical power. But with you here, that won't be the case anymore! Using my vast knowledge of performance magic, but powered by you, I could be unbeatable in the field of sorcery! Entertainment sorcery, but still!”
She went on to conclude, “Just give me your power and I´ll handle the rest myself!”
Trixie rested her case with a confident smile, sure that her obvious and logical arguments would be not only persuasive, but absolutely convincing. Who else but her could wield such power with enough expertise to make use of its fullest potential? Nopony else could, not even her rival, Twilight Sparkle. Not even her best friend, Starlight Glimmer, not even… her provisional and sporadic assistant Discord.
Said assistant had a few minor concerns with the mastermind's plans, though, and despite being an entity whose origins allegedly stemmed from not only the dawn of time, but of existence itself – despite having witnessed the rise, course, and fall of countless civilizations throughout the cosmos – despite having walked the planet he currently inhabited for millennia, enriching himself with the cultures he sought to torment and destroy – despite the innumerable languages knew, dead and widely spoken alike, current and past, spoken by mortals, gods, or beings whose very method of speech could drag a mind to the depths of insanity – there was not a single word that could summarize his feelings towards her idea with complete and total accuracy. So, instead, he laughed.
Hard.
Tears rolled down his cheeks, made a complete turn, and rose up to then drip down his ears. Had anypony been crazy enough to drink them, the adventurous individual would have been surprised with the most obscenely delightful flavor their tongue could possibly perceive, but alas, nopony would ever dare to try.
Discord's fit of laughter continued while he clutched his stomach, as though in pain; whether or not he could feel physical pain was another matter entirely. His body continued to spin, end over end, with such intense joy that various objects throughout the room began to orbit him as their own sun.
His obnoxious laughter was such to the extent that it shattered all glass throughout the universe, be it windows, vases, or skyscrapers on a planet several light-years away.
Even beyond that, the echoes of his uncontrollable cackling resonated through the walls of the most sacred temple of a mighty, noble, and glorious alien empire. By this point, the laughter had been distorted to the point that it began to resemble a particular melody – a melody uncannily similar to one which prophesied the end of their world. Infuriated by this revelation, citizens rose, armies advanced, fires were lit, and one of the most sophisticated and advanced cultures in the universe succumbed to the flames of war, decadence and hatred. Long beyond the eventual downfall of ponykind, their conflict raged on, unresolved, having claimed the lives of millions, and yet to claim millions more for eons to come.
In summary, Discord had a good laugh at Trixie's rather off-putting proposition.
Trixie stared at him wide-eyed, sporting what some would deem as an adorable blush upon her cheeks, one which only served to further embarrass her, repeating in a vicious cycle of deepened shades of red and even deeper shame.
Discord exhaled the last breaths of his surprisingly lengthy fit of cackling. Slowly, his body descended to the floor with the softness of a caring mother laying her child in their crib. His head tilted upward once more, his eyes shut in blissful peace.
“Ah, that was a good one.”
Trixie struggled to generate even the slightest movement in her lower jaw, her teeth clenched in indignation.
“I was being serious!” the red upon her cheeks spread to the rest of her face like wildfire in both rapidness and heat, ultimately failing to help convey her message.
“That’s the best part!” he could barely finish his sentence before bursting into giggles like a little filly hearing any reference to poo. However, he caught himself.
In a flash of light, Discord was hanging from the ceiling. Thanks to the length of his serpentine body, however, he was still face-to-face with Trixie.
“On a more serious note, that's a terrible idea. And although I see great entertainment potential in setting something so horrific into motion, I'm not certain that would be the best use of our resources right now.”
“I'm not even asking for all of your power, you dolt!” Trixie cut in, “Maybe just around 10% and…”
Her voice was lost beneath the thunderous blaring of a siren from overhead, filling the room with an intermittent red light as the word “ERROR” blinked on and off.
“That was your first mistake, Lulamoon. Thinking my power operates under something so primitive as ‘numbers’. My power is chaos itself; its manipulation, its observation, its very existence! Did you honestly think you can put a number to that? How in the wide world do you expect to control something which, by its very definition, eludes control?”
“I...”
Following his demonstration of the quintessential rhetorical question, Discord continued over Trixie's protests.
“Even if there are some ponies or other beings who might someday hope to comprehend my powers, you are clearly not one to give said power to. After all, you have a certain personal history of involvement with abysmal sources of magical power yourself, correct?” There was no resentment, no spite, and yet no compassion in his voice. He simply stated what he considered a sound, perfect and immutable truth.
Trixie's words felt pasty in her mouth, accompanied by an unpleasant taste which clung to her tongue like a tick. Fortunately, after just a moment’s hesitation, she quickly got over herself and regained composure.
“Point taken,” she said, admitting defeat, although notably little bitter at that.
Discord gave a smug look, but with a certain unambiguous friendliness that led Trixie to believe this was his way of joking with friends. She returned the gesture with a hesitant smile and a nervous chuckle.
“Very well, then. It seems there's really no simple way about this with only one of us doing all the work,” Trixie stated, almost begrudgingly.
“It appears so,” Discord said as he reflected on her words, stroking his chin with one of his eagle claws.
The two monuments to the extents of ego looked aimlessly through the room, seeking any form of resolution to their current dilemma, analyzing each possibility and quickly discarding it, only to move on to the next.
For a moment, the room rested in a serene and delicate silence most philosophers could only dream of. The ancient spirit and the young mare, so similar and yet so different, remained in pondering tranquility, one of them floating and the other seated on her haunches. The sound from a pin dropping in such a pristine moment would likely equate to a direct strike from Celestia's sun out on the battlefield.
And then, an immense realization hit Trixie like thunder from a furious god. She turned around, knowing that he'd come to the same conclusion mere seconds ago. A flash of light confirmed her worst fears.
Discord stood before her with the widest of grins, sporting a beautiful, dare it be said, even graceful, sequined dress that swept from just below his neck down to his ankles. The uncannily attractive dress led her gaze to two discordant feet clad in stylish silver high heels. His lips exhibited an intense crimson red that, much to her dismay, Trixie had to admit complemented his eyes. His formerly bald head, previously capped only by mismatched horns that, akin to his wings, served no real purpose, now displayed an impeccably straightened black and white mane. The mysterious coiffure flowed, not borne on the wind, but propelled by its own beauty.
And yet, there was something about the scene currently unfolding before the egotistical magician more terrifying that the image itself: the idea behind it.
Teamwork.
With Discord.
“It'd be my most sincere honor and pleasure to perform as your loyal assistant, Miss Lulamoon.”
His eyes sparkled with glee, determination and an undeniable hint of mischief. Trixie felt as though she had taken one step closer to Tartarus.
I walked right into this one, didn't I?
Author's Note
I've had this story sitting in a folder for a very long time. Around the period of transition between season 6 and 7 right after 6 ended. Add in a long editing process followed by me being too much of a wuss to actually re-read and publish it and you've got a story that's way past its due date. But still, here it is for all of you to enjoy.
This story was possible thanks to the masterful editing of my good friend RelativelyExtreme. Truly an inadequate name.
