Of Maids and Mistresses

The two of them quickly made their way home from Rarity’s boutique, all attention once again focused on Trixie, to Twilight’s great delight. Most ponies didn’t seem to know whether they should be appreciative of Trixie’s new look or outraged over how risqué it was, but even in the latter case their glares were a lot less hostile than before, be it all the more embarrassing for Trixie. Twilight grinned; it’d be hard for the other Ponyvillians to hold on to their grudges if they were confronted by a meek and docile Trixie day after day, and the purple unicorn fully intended to keep the act up for quite a while. The rumours floating through town would become even more prevalent, though, but she did not mind.

The showmare had quickly submitted to her in the throes of passion, but Twilight wasn’t under the illusion that her plan had already succeeded because of that. No, far from it. She’d no doubt have to egg Trixie on for a while before the mare would fully embrace her new role, and even then they’d have to keep her like that for some time to make sure the lessons she’d learned sunk in, else she’d go straight back to being the arrogant mare the entire town distrusted... Then again, the first results had been rather promising, so perhaps they’d be able to move along faster than she’d thought possible...

Twilight shook her head, trying to dispel a feeling of inexplicable uneasiness that suddenly overcame her. There was no reason to rush, right? They could take as much time as they needed...

They finally arrived back at the library, and Twilight motioned her maid inside.

“Did you see how they were all glaring at Trixie?” the showmare bristled indignantly the moment the door fell shut behind her. “Trixie has never-”

“Trixie,” Twilight interrupted her calmly as she took off her saddlebags, “please take these bags upstairs and find a place for your spare outfit in the closet. We’ll want it tidy and on hoof in case you keep sweating as much as you were earlier...”

The blue unicorn turned around to face Twilight, stammering slightly as a blush ignited her cheeks. “A-alright, Twilight...”

The purple unicorn suppressed a smile: reminding Trixie of their earlier escapade had been the right move, and she could almost see the memory physically pulling Trixie back into her earlier state of mind. “Mistress Twilight,” she corrected her maid once again, as she plucked a book from the table and lay down onto the couch with it. “Come back downstairs as quickly as possible.”

To her great surprise, Trixie found herself nodding and bowing slightly, before she turned around and dashed up the stairs. What was going on? Twilight had been quite confident that her plan would work, but she, Trixie, had been of a different opinion entirely. Sure, she had adopted her showmare’s persona a bit too readily, but she had thought that to be an isolated case. Her most recent experiences were quickly changing her mind, however, and somewhere deep inside she was a little bit frightened. She knew how bad she had gotten before Twilight had showed up in Canterlot, and she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to keep the maid thing under control. In Rarity’s boutique it had felt so right (and even somewhat exciting) but ever since they had left from there, she just hadn’t been so sure anymore...

What if she slipped right into it and never managed to get back? She frowned as she folded the spare outfit Rarity had given them, neatly storing it inside of Twilight’s closet. It was sufficiently large for the both of them, since nopony in Ponyville ever wore clothes, except to a few festive events. She made up her mind as she closed the closet, and headed back down the stairs. She wasn’t going to go through with this; Twilight would just have to find another way to bring down Trixie’s antisocial walls. It was a shame that Rarity had put so much work into these outfits, but then again, she’d probably never notice anyway, since she had apparently had quite a different purpose in mind when she made them... And, Trixie thought as she blushed, it wasn’t as if she wasn’t prepared to wear them occasionally: that make-out session earlier had been-

“There you are,” Twilight said, looking up from her book as she heard Trixie’s hooves on the wooden floor, “that took you long enough.” Trixie tried to say something, but Twilight shut her up with a glare. “Spike didn’t do his weekly grocery run before he left, so even with the things I brought from Canterlot we’re down to the essentials, especially since we’ve been eating for three, rather than two, the last few days...”

Trixie swallowed, as she looked down at her hooves uncomfortably. Twilight was kindly embellishing the truth a little bit, as Trixie was quite sure she hadn’t increased the household’s food consumption by just a measly 50%: she had probably more than doubled it. Compared to the other two, she had been eating like a pig... neither of them had really minded, as it was understood that she had quite a lot of catching up to do, but whenever Trixie was reminded of it it left her somewhat abashed. Not only because of how much she ate, but also because it made her painfully aware of the fact that she was essentially freeloading. Well, she was doing something around the house, but she wasn’t sure if...

“His grocery list should still be in the kitchen; I put it there at the start of every week, when I make my scheduling schedule,” Twilight waved a hoof in the direction of the kitchen dismissively, her eyes glued to the pages of Mystical Mysticism.

“B-but Trixie can’t go out there like this again!” Trixie protested. She immediately hit herself over the head mentally; that wasn’t what she had wanted to say! She had wanted to call the entire maid thing off, not just this grocery run, although she already felt less certain about that plan than she had mere moments ago. With Twilight having subtly reminded her of the debt of gratitude that she was owed, Trixie almost felt selfish when she thought about her own complaints. Was playing dress-up really that high of a price to pay? It had certainly seemed that way before...

A thought rose up in the back of Trixie’s mind: Did Twilight have her figured out better than she had thought possible? With just a few choice words she had swept Trixie’s resolve away, which was suspicious to say the least.

Twilight lowered the book slightly, and frowned at her maid from over the cover. “Well, you can’t expect your mistress to do all the chores for you, can you?” She shook her head. “No, you cannot... and if you’re to go out on my behest, you should look the part. The sooner the other ponies get used to it, the sooner you will get used to it. It’s for your own good, my love.”

Trixie swallowed, feeling slightly uncomfortable despite Twilight’s gentle smile and the sparkle in her eyes. So, she’d get used to it sooner if she did what Twilight said? Well, that was the problem: she wasn’t sure that she even wanted to get used to it!

“But Twi...” Trixie started hesitantly, “couldn’t Trixie... without the outfit?”

“Mistress Twilight,” the purple unicorn let out in a barely audible hiss, as her eyes narrowed to little slits. “I thought you said you’d do this for me... for us! You’ll never get over your social defensive mechanisms if you don’t push forward now... Please don’t make me choose between you and my friends, Trixie.”

Trixie bit down upon her lip. She’d promised, that much was true, and she trusted Twilight more than she trusted anypony else; however, changing elements of yourself that had been a part of you for so long wasn’t easy, and the vague fear of losing herself just would not let her go.

“I see,” Twilight said when Trixie neither moved nor spoke, “very well, you don’t have to do it, Trixie, but I am sorely disappointed in you.”

A clump of ice descended into Trixie’s stomach, as Twilight’s words awoke feelings that had been slumbering at the edge of her mind. She felt an eagerness to make Twilight happy that went above and beyond a lover’s care, and she suddenly realised that disappointing Twilight was the last thing she wanted to do... No, she corrected herself, disappointing her mistress was the last thing she wanted to do. She’d resisted it up to that point, but Twilight’s last words had made it clear that they were playing for the marbles, and the part of her mind that had been lying dormant since Carousel Boutique once again took hold, as she threw herself down on the ground in front of Twilight’s sofa.

“No mistress, please wait!” the blue unicorn begged. “Trixie is sorry! She will do as you say, just please don’t be angry at her... Trixie is not a very good maid, but she will do her best, so please...”

She looked up, her eyes glistening, and saw Twilight smiling warmly at her. “It’s fine... I know this is new for you too. I forgive you, since this is your first day... Now, chop chop... the food stalls don’t stay up all day, you know.”

Trixie jumped up to her hooves at once, smiling brightly as she curtsied. “Yes mistress, thank you mistress!” she said, as she started to head for the kitchen.

“Oh, and Trixie,” Twilight said before the other mare left the room, as she turned her gaze back to her book, “see to it that you’re on your best behaviour from now on, alright?”

Trixie nodded, rightfully assuming that Twilight didn’t really expect her to answer the question--her actions from there on out would be answer enough. Her refusal from earlier seemed almost absurd in light of her newfound joy, which stood in stark contrast to the fear she had felt mere moments ago. She didn’t want to lose Twilight, and if all that was expected of her were some chores and prancing around in a pretty costume, then what could that hurt, really? Her life on the road had been a lot harder on her, and her (more or less) predecessor had been a baby dragon for crying out loud; he seemed to have done okay. Surely she’d do even better: she was the Great and Powerful Trixie, after all... she could do anything better than anypony--except perhaps magic, where she considered herself second after Twilight--even if that ‘anything’ happened to be being a humble maid.

She snatched the shopping list up from the kitchen table, and walked through the library again in order to reach the front door, whistling a cheerful tune.

Twilight grinned as the showmare passed her: her idea was working out splendidly. There’d be follow-up arguments in the same vein as the one they had just had, but they’d get progressively easier to win. Just a few more nudges was all that it would take... Just a few more nudges, and then the second phase of the plan... well, surely that could wait?

***

Trixie was still whistling when she stepped outside, but the tune quickly died on her lips. She was still as conspicuous as ever, and ponies took note of her passing with an interest they hadn’t managed to summon for her shows. Without Twilight by her side, not even the maid’s costume sufficed to bend their hostility towards curiosity. She had once basked in the attention showered upon her by ponies in the streets, but those days were long gone. Ever since that fateful day, she had been slowly sinking away in a sea of anonymity; except here in Ponyville, where ponies still remembered her clearly enough to despise her instead.

And in a way, it was Twilight’s fault. Well, not her fault--Trixie couldn’t expect her to just watch her village be destroyed, after all--but if she hadn’t shown up, Trixie’s reputation would never have fallen as low as it had, although she’d likely have died in the Ursa’s rampage. She had struggled with conflicting feelings of hate and admiration for many months, the balance shifting week by week. But then Twilight had appeared in Canterlot, and she was just so friendly, so compassionate... the hatred had melted like snow under the sun, while the admiration grew.

That admiration had quickly turned to love, and it was that love which helped her bear the whips and scorns of life in a world that did not seem to want her in it. That love was also the only reason she stuck with Twilight’s idiotic plan to begin with. She had to admit: so long as Twilight was with her, her new role seemed so natural, as if she had been born into it. But as soon as they were apart, doubt once again entered Trixie’s mind, but doubt was all it was. She told herself that the costume and Twilight’s attitude towards her had no effect whatsoever, while they most certainly did. The change was subtle, manifesting itself through small things, such as the way she walked (modestly and with an eye for her surroundings, as opposed to self-centered with her head held high) and the mental image she had of herself (no longer a Great and Powerful Trixie in front of an audience, but a Trixie in maid’s clothes in front of Twilight’s sparkling eyes).

She failed to realise that the progression was not at all like going down a flight of stairs--where every step was as significant as the one before--but rather like stepping onto a slippery slope that fed into a ravine: the first few steps seemed harmless, but that one fateful step would lead you straight to the bottom. Right now she was teetering over the edge.

She shook her head, trying to end the confusing moment of retrospection, as she approached the central marketplace. Mistress Twilight still needed her shopping done, so she’d focus on that first. It was the very least she could do in return for all the hospitality she’d been shown. And, Trixie mused, she’d be eating a good portion of the purchases herself, too!

She took out the shopping list, and looked around for a stall that offered her the goods she needed. There were several; however, no single one had every item she needed. She sighed, and resigned herself to the necessity of visiting multiple stalls, and thus to the necessity of dealing with several different ponies in the process.

Trixie walked over to the nearest stall, under the scrutinizing glances of the burly, brown earth pony who tended to it. He raised an eyebrow at her getup, but chose not to question it.

“Good afternoon,” Trixie heard herself say politely, to her great surprise, “I would like two of these, three of those and a bundle of your finest carrots, please.”

The stallkeeper nodded. “Certainly miss, that’ll be five bits and two spurs,” he said, a thin polish of politeness layered over his sharp tone of voice.

Trixie frowned as she gave the goods another look over. In Canterlot she’d have expected to pay that much, but this was Ponyville; the crops were all harvested nearby. Transportation costs were negligible, and the supply of goods passing through on their way to bigger cities was far greater than the demand. It was obvious that he was trying to beat some extra coin out of the pocket of a pony who was widely known to be a big city girl, but she wouldn’t stand for it. She smiled inwardly, believing her standing up for herself to be yet another sign that the maid thing wasn’t affecting her too much, but what maid would ever spend her mistress’s gold lightly?

“Maybe if it was fresh, but for this... I’ll give you four bits, no more.”

“What are you talking about?” he bristled. “These are all fresh from the field! Five bits and two spurs, and not a spur less.”

She smiled, as she cast a variation of the spell she had used on Rarity long ago on one of the colt’s oranges, skillfully distracting him with a gesture, so that he didn’t notice her horn’s glow. “Fresh or not, they obviously suffer from green rot.”

“Green ro-”

“Yes, green rot,” Trixie interrupted the question as she rolled over the magically altered orange with a hoof, revealing a damp, soggy green spot on the bottom, “it spreads rapidly, if everypony knew it had been sighted at this stall...”

“Alright, alright,” the colt said in a hushed voice, trying to get her to keep her voice down. “I’ll sell those things to you for four bits, just... uh... keep the green rot thing to yourself, okay?”

“But of course,” Trixie reassured the colt with her most charming smile, “I just want you to treat me like you do the other customers, and not like you do a tourist, or a lost city girl.”

He hesitated, momentarily taken aback. “I... I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d... alright I suppose it’s only... it’s only fair.” He smiled at her uncertainly. “The name’s Verdant, Verdant Green. I grow crops on the edge of town and tend to this stall when needed, pleased to meet you.”

“And I’m Trixie,” she said, “but you already knew that. I’m staying in the library with mistress.”

“Mistress?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow.

Trixie’s eyes grew wide; she hadn’t realised what she’d said up until now. “Oh, I uh... I meant T-Twilight,” she stuttered, the name passing over her lips with more difficulty than she’d have thought possible.

“Oooookay,” he said slowly, not entirely sure what to take away from that.

“I’ll be going now,” Trixie said gingerly, “I’ve got more that needs taking care of.”

Verdant said his goodbyes, and Trixie went on her way, browsing the other stalls absent-mindedly. She hadn’t had a conversation that friendly with anypony for years, the ones with Twilight notwithstanding. Normally she’d have publicly made a complete fool of Green the moment she realised he was trying to pull one over on her, but for the first time the urge had been easy to suppress. Instead of getting a few laughs and a new enemy, she had gained an acquaintance, which could become a friend with time. She hated to admit it to herself, but Twilight’s plan, it... it worked. As she went about her business at the other stalls (without any big problems; the “being friendly” thing continued to work) her slip of the tongue kept bothering her; it was proof that the idea of Twilight as her mistress was rapidly starting to grab hold of her. She couldn’t figure out why it had affected her to such an extent. Was it because Twilight was right, and she just easily slipped into new roles? Was it because of her love for Twilight?

Or maybe, a small voice whispered at the back of her mind, you just like it.

She reeled at the thought, but at the same time, she could not deny it.