Of Maids and Mistresses

Twilight knew Trixie would be needing a bath herself, but she still took her time, not expecting the other mare to be getting up anytime soon. She turned out to be right, as Trixie had only just begun scrambling back to her hooves at the time she finished. The maid stood up on shaking legs, looking at the carnage around her skeptically, trying to figure out where to start. Twilight didn’t intervene, just leaving her to decide the sequence of actions for herself. Instead, she picked up a cookbook from one of the shelves and headed into the kitchen, taking her sweet time to look through it for a suitable recipe.

She eventually settled on something simple that needed to simmer for some time, paging through the rest of the book with only mild interest as she waited. Just as she was busy setting the table for two, Trixie staggered into the room. She had her spare uniform on and was clean again, but the physical signs (and fatigue) of their lovemaking couldn’t be erased so easily. Twilight actually blushed slightly as she spotted the love bite on Trixie’s neck, but at the time she just hadn’t been able to stop herself.

They ate a simple meal, and Twilight’s cooking managed to awaken an appetite even in Trixie, although Twilight could tell swallowing was still somewhat uncomfortable for the maid, which made her blush yet again. Afterwards Twilight retired to the library with a book, and she called Trixie over, who promptly laid down her head against the purple unicorn’s side, closing her eyes. For a good while Twilight just stroked Trixie’s mane as she read, until she started to feel slightly tired herself.

“Love, wake up,” Twilight said as she shook the other mare gently.

“Huh... whaazha-”

“We’re going to bed. Check the doors and windows here, then come upstairs.”

“Yes mistress...” Trixie rubbed her eyes sleepily as she stood up, walking off towards the front door.

Twilight went upstairs and looked at the guest bed she had put up for Trixie. Why was it still there? One way or the other, the ex-showmare ended up in Twilight’s bed before the night was over anyway, and surely their relationship was serious enough... Her horn lit up as she slid open a panel on the wall, which revealed a storage room that was way too big to fit inside the library, and yet it did; magic had taken care of that. She quickly lifted up the extra bed and shoved it into the storage, closing the panel again as she slipped under her sheets.

Trixie came up a few minutes later, and to Twilight’s surprise she actually did seem confused about the lack of a second bed. Was it because she hadn’t expected a maid to sleep with her mistress?

“Come here,” the purple unicorn commanded, dispelling Trixie’s indecisiveness.

She slipped into bed herself, where Twilight quickly pulled her into an embrace and snuggled up, pressing a soft, gentle kiss upon the other mare’s lips. Her horn lit up for a short moment, and the lights went out throughout the house.

“M-mistress?” Trixie said uncertainly. “Is Trixie supposed to... again... tonight?”

Twilight stared at her with a quizzical look on her face, until she suddenly remembered what she had said at the end of their lovemaking session. “Oh! No, I think I can let you rest for this one night.” She winked. “But I do want cuddles.”

Trixie pressed herself against Twilight, resting her forehead against her mistress’s chest.

Twilight caressed Trixie’s side under the covers for a while, lost in thoughts. She knew her own origins were more or less known to Trixie, but she realised Trixie’s own past was still a big mystery. “Trixie, I want to know more about you... Like about your life before you started travelling. Tell me about it.”

Trixie tensed up in Twilight’s embrace, not saying a word, barely making a sound, before she started shaking slightly.

“Trixie? Your mistress asked-”

“T-Trixie can’t,” she finally stuttered.

Twilight frowned. “You can’t? Why not?”

“She just... she just can’t...” Trixie said softly, “but Trixie can... tell mistress a-a story? If she’d like?”

Twilight thought about it for a moment, looking at Trixie’s face in the light of the stars and moon which shone in through the window. “Alright,” she finally said slowly, “but I hope it is a good one.”

Trixie took a deep breath. “Once upon a time...”

***

Once upon a time, there was a little filly unicorn, who lived in a small, idyllic little village, not unlike Ponyville. Her parents loved her dearly and raised her well, and she grew up to be the heart and soul of the community. Wherever she went, ponies broke into a smile at her lighthearted and playful nature, and even at that very young age nopony could claim she treated anypony with anything but the kindness and respect they deserved. From her end, the little filly enjoyed the praise and affection she got for being good and nice, and she did everything to ensure everypony only had good things to say about her.

And so life went on in the quiet little town, with nothing unusual happening, but of course that meant nothing unusually bad happened either. But one day, that all changed.

A disease swept through the town, striking the grand majority of the populace virtually overnight. The affected ponies were first wracked by attacks of bloody coughs, and soon all energy seemed to leave their bodies, until they could not even summon the will to eat, and slowly wasted away. Day-to-day life came to a grinding halt as all ponies were either too sick to work, or too busy taking care of this first group. And, of course, as time went on, this second group shrunk, while the first one became larger day after day.

By the time everypony realised they weren’t dealing with a simple cough or a harmless flu, it was already too late. Medicine and food were scarce, and--unlike Ponyville--the village was very remote, a good distance away from the major city centers. To make matters worse, the entire pegasus and unicorn populations (the only ones with access to the fastest methods of transportation) had been the first to come down with the disease, being far less resilient than their earth pony brethren.

They sent one of the last healthy earth ponies out to get help. He ran as fast as he could, but they all knew it would take him days to reach the nearest town over, and then even more time to make it back to their village.

In the early phases of the disease, their local doctor had ascertained that certain medicines they had access to were quite effective at slowing down the disease, but the problem was that they just didn’t have enough of it to put the entire village on a regular dosage for an extended period of time. They decided to distribute what they had amongst the remaining ponies (as many had, sadly, already succumbed to the disease) so everypony could try to hold out until help arrived.

Initially, the little filly’s parents attempted to give her the majority of the food and all of the medicine, but she realised what they were trying to do and would have none of it. She demanded to be treated as an adult, and refused to let her parents sacrifice themselves on her behalf. Her parents begrudgingly agreed, and from that day forward the family all ate their meagre rations together, even though they passed all of the best bits off to the little filly. After each meal they took a little white pill as well, and hoped for the best.

The filly’s condition didn’t worsen at all: she had some coughs, but nothing major, and she even seemed to get better slowly, but steadily. Her parents, on the other hand, got worse day after day, although they managed to hide most of it from their daughter by taking turns to care for her, switching out when one of them felt he or she could not hold out any longer.

One fateful morning, the girl woke up to a silent house, with nopony to wake her, which was rather unusual. She headed downstairs, but there was nopony there either, so she headed back up again and pushed open the door to her parents’ bedroom. And there she found them, in each other’s hooves, lying on the bed, unmoving. No matter how much she screamed and called their names, they would not wake up, and when she tried shaking them softly they felt cold underneath her hooves. She rushed back to the kitchen and jumped up on the table in order to reach the cabinet where her parents stored the medicine. The small container from which her parents usually took her pills was nearly empty--only a paltry two pills remained--while the one they had used for themselves was large and still half full. She reasoned her parents would require a great amount of pills to get better, so she grabbed that bottle, using her fledgling magical skills to levitate it just above her horn.

She rushed back up the stairs, but in her haste she tripped over one of the carpets in the upstairs hallway. The sudden shock broke her concentration, and the bottle of pills smacked against the ground, flying open and releasing its contents all over the floor. She instantly jumped up to gather them all again, but as she did so she noticed something she never had before: these were of a very different shape than the ones she usually got. Hers were white as well, so she had never noticed in the brief moment it took her parents to gulp them down, but now it was quite unmistakable.

She picked one up and put it in her mouth, and as soon as she did so she tasted something sweet; they weren’t medicine, but merely sugarpills. She rushed back downstairs to grab the other bottle, which she now realised contained the only two pills left in the house. She pleaded and pleaded with her parents to please take the pills, so that they could be healthy again, but they didn’t respond, no matter how hard she tried...

Just a few hours later, the rescue team found the little girl on her parent’s bed, crying and pleading with them to get up, but they didn’t get up... they would never get up...

***

“By Celestia, Trixie,” Twilight said with a quiet voice, shock on her face. “Is the filly in the story y-”

“The story isn’t over yet,” Trixie said with an eerily detached voice, and Twilight fell silent.

***

For most ponies, help came far too late. The old and the weak had died several days ago, and even those in the prime of their life had more often than not succumbed to the disease’s ruthless progression. Several other families with young had tried to do what the little filly’s family had done, but to no avail. The others had had it way worse than the filly, and not even all the pills in the village would have been able to save them. As there was nopony left to care for her, the rescue team took her back to the city and left her with the local orphanage.

It was a terrible shock for a kind and friendly filly still struggling to get over the death of her parents. The orphans present were often cruel and unkind, eager to establish a sort of hierarchy amongst themselves--with the filly firmly at the bottom--and didn’t offer up any sympathy towards the filly’s sad story, claiming that the fact she even had parents for a certain amount of time (while the rest of them, through sheer coincidence, were all orphans from birth or abandoned) made her an outsider to begin with.

The caretakers weren’t much better either, having been put there out of necessity and not because of any real aptitude for the job. They had no love to spare for the ones under their care, and the little filly was no exception. They only cared that the foals stayed somewhat quiet and didn’t kick up too much of a fuss, and aside from that they let them do as they wished, with all the bullying that came with it.

And thus the love and kindness the filly had thrived upon for so long disappeared from her life, and she slowly but surely blocked herself off from the others, who did not want her there anyway. But inside, she stayed the same gentle filly, waiting for a chance to break free.

One day she was being bullied for the umpteenth time, when she suddenly reached for a tool she had not brought to bear in a situation like this before: magic. By calling upon its power, she was easily able to best the much larger earth pony youngster that was assaulting her, which caused all the other ponies to burst out in laughter at the loser’s expense. They praised the trick the filly had pulled on him, and although she did not feel good about it, their laughing faces and admiration reminded her of home.

She wanted to experience that feeling again, and pondered what to do. Nobody dared bully her anymore, so a repeat of last time wasn’t an option (and she feared it would not get the same reaction anyway). However, she knew the answer lay with magic, so she started practicing every day. Eventually, she developed a few tricks she thought the others would admire, and performed them for their amusement. The others were less than impressed, and certainly not as elated as they had been the last time. The filly did not understand.

She thought long and hard about what she had done wrong. It wasn’t the magic, her tricks had been perfect, and it wasn’t the audience either, they had been the same ponies from before. And suddenly it came to her: she hadn’t had a victim to make fun of, that had made all the difference. They hadn’t thought her magic humorous per se, but had admired the effect it had had on her bully. She practiced a few new tricks, and put on another performance, only this time she asked for a volunteer from the crowd.

One of the braver punks gladly accepted her challenge, and she unleashed her magic upon him, turning his coat a bright, pinkish colour. His peers laughed louder than they ever had before, and the filly knew she had struck gold. She felt uncomfortable making fun of other ponies like that, but she told herself that it was all just an act, it was all just for fun, yet the more she did it, the more the distinction between on and off stage blurred.

After that first show she got her cutie mark, and she had gained a lot of fans. However, every time she performed, she required a new volunteer or two, so as time went by there was nopony left in the orphanage that she had not slighted, and she once again remained alone. She told herself the others just weren’t ready to accept her great potential, and too simple of mind to appreciate the fact that it was all an act, only for fun. But was it really?

She realised she’d have to move from place to place if she were to get the laughter, smiles and adoration she craved, while avoiding running into the same issue she had at the orphanage. She left the orphanage to brave the world, putting on the mask of the great performer that could outwit anypony, and who everypony adored. And the little, sweet filly of old? She was never heard of or seen, ever again.

***

Twilight remained silent for a few moments, completely at a loss for what to say, concern and sadness clear in her eyes. “That was... a very sad tale,” she finally managed.

“Y-yes,” came Trixie’s choked voice, “T-Trixie thinks so too.”

Tears appeared on the maid’s face, first only a few, which quickly became many, which became an unstoppable stream of them. Her shoulders shook violently as Twilight pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Trixie,” she whispered softly, “the little filly was you, wasn’t it?”

“N-no!” Trixie said, denying it fiercely, “it w-wasn’t Trixie, T-Trixie just t-thinks... the... the story is... s-sad...” she managed to say before bursting into full-on sobbing once again.

Twilight finally understood. The performances at the orphanage may have played a part in Trixie’s current social difficulties, but that wasn’t the full story. The real reason she had fled into her role as the Great and Powerful Trixie, as well as the maid role, was because she was too afraid of facing the grief in her past. She was too afraid of accepting it as part of her life, of being the little filly who lost everypony she ever held dear again, the one who had been despised by her new “family” at the orphanage. It was far easier to keep on a mask and play a part, and to recount her past as “a story” rather than accepting it as part of who she was.

Twilight realised this cast an entirely new light on her plans. They would work, sure, but wasn’t she treating symptoms, rather than the root cause? And now that she knew why her approach worked so well on the mare it seemed a bit... unethical, as if she was abusing a psychological trauma. Perhaps... perhaps she ought to reconsider, and... no, no that wasn’t necessary. Her ideas still held some merit, and would work for them in the short run, allowing them to work out a more permanent and healthy solution for the future. Yes, that was a good way to look at it. She was doing it for Trixie, not because she liked it, but because it had to be done.

She gently held the shaking, sobbing mare against her body, whispering comforting words of love and companionship until, over an hour later, Trixie finally cried herself to sleep.