Flim Flimflam stared at the gravestone in front of him.
Flam Flimflam
Skilled Cider Maker
Loving Son
Loyal Brother
Flim stifled a sob. How could they only write these things on a gravestone? It was like writing "an excellent princess" on Princess Celestia's gravestone! They didn't write anything about Flam's laugh, or his striped coat, or the way he smiled at everypony he met . . .
"I'm sorry," whispered Flim hoarsely into the cool night air. There was no response except for the chirping of the crickets. "I'm sorry!" he said louder, repeating it again and again until his voice gave out and he was left with only his memories—including the memory he least wanted to think of.
The ponies cheered and raced to the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. Flim and Flam smirked at each other. What foals! It was almost too easy. All it took to take over a cider company was two hansome stallions, a catchy song, and a fast-paced machine. The only time it had failed was that time he visited Ponyville, and to be honest, he thought that it was slightly humorous that they had beaten him. A small-town family and their friends beating the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000! It was laughable.
Deep down, Flim knew that it was slightly cruel to take over small businesses. But, really—wasn't it time for Equestria to take a step into the modern world and get rid of the old cider techniques?
"Well done, brother of mine," said Flam happily, patting Flim on the back. He grabbed a mug of cider and sipped it happily. "Ahhh," he sighed, leaning against the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. "Excellent cider as always—all my work, I'm sure." He grinned at Flim teasingly.
"Oh, sure—as if you don't just sit around on your rump all day, eating the apples while I work!" said Flim. They grinned at each other, and for a moment, they regressed into seven-year-old foals.
"Oh, really?" asked Flam, nudging his brother playfully. Laughing, Flim shoved him hard . . .
Right into the cider machine's gears.
The next moments came slowly. There was Flam's expression, which quickly changed from teasing to shock.
There was a terrible grinding noise, as the most sensitive part of a unicorn's body—the horn—hit the gears.
There was the scream that came from somewhere deep in Flam's throat.
Then there was the blood.
Everywhere.
Flim realized that he was crying. In normal circumstances he would have been horrified—businessponies weren't supposed to cry! It didn't make you seem like a steady, trustworthy pony. But these were definitely not normal circumstances. His brother—the second part of Flim—was gone forever, and it was all Flim's fault. Never again would the Flimflam brothers sing their song; never again would they make cider together. Because somepony shoved Flam into the gears of the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, Flam was gone.
"I'm sorry," said Flim. The words sounded empty and harsh in the night air.
"This may sound strange, but I . . . I know how you feel."
Flim was so surprised to hear another voice that he didn't bother to wipe his tears before turning around. The pony seemed embarrassed that she had spoken.
"Er, my mother . . . she died when I was a filly." The blue unicorn shrugged. "I . . . I just thought it might make you feel better."
It had been several years since anypony had seen her, but Flim would have recognized her anywhere. Her mane was unbrushed, she didn't have her usual smug expression, and her eyes were downcast, but Flim instantly knew who she was. He would never forget that show he had seen of hers.
"You're the Great and Powerful Trixie," he said in an awestruck voice. He attempted to wipe away his tears without looking like an upset foal.
She shrugged. "Well, these days I just go by Trixie. Not that I talk to many ponies these days. These days . . ." She seemed to realize her repetition and blushed. "Well, I know who you are, of course," she said, attempting to change the subject. "And I heard about . . . about what happened. I was at the funeral."
A lump rose in Flim's throat. "Ah." There was a silence, and in that break, Flim realized that Trixie was still standing. "Care to sit down?" he asked, patting the ground next to him and trying to make it look appealing.
Trixie nodded and sat down next to him. "So, will you continue to make cider?" she asked shyly. "I had some Flimflam cider at the funeral. It was delectable."
Flim cringed. He had been waiting for someone to ask him this question. "No," he mumbled, staring hard at Flam's gravestone to avoid meeting her eyes. "I've tried to make cider since . . . since the incident, and it's tasted horrible. It's like chocolate cake missing the chocolate."
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Trixie's forehead knit. "That's terrible," she said, and Flim could tell that she didn't just mean the fact thatshe wouldn't get any more cider. "It's like you're missing a part of yourself now. Not only have you lost your brother, but you've lost what makes you special. It's as though I was suddenly transformed into an earth pony and had no way to use magic."
Flim appreciated the honesty of her comment, even if it was a bit harsh. She didn't try to make the horror of his situation sound better than it really was. "Exactly," he said eagerly. "I always just assumed that Flam and I would die at the same time, in the same way. Maybe we'd die lying in the same hospital room, holding hooves. Or maybe we'd die apple farming, the way we wanted to. Flim got his wish, I guess." His voice had lost his eagerness and was now bitter and cold."
"No two ponies die at the same time," said Trixie softly. "And death is never convenient. No matter how prepared we think we are, it's far too early. My mother didn't even get to see me earn my cutie mark."
Flim swallowed hard. "That's awful." To him, there was no worse thought than the idea of a parent not learning a child's cutie mark.
"Yes." Trixie took a deep breath. "She died a few days before I got my cutie mark, of leukemia. She was an earth pony, and I was certain . . . I was certain that a unicorn's magic could make it better. But as there are no healing spells for some things, I used my magic to entertain her in the last days of her life." She sighed, a faraway look in her eyes. "She died watching me create a light show. I remember the doctors whisking me off, and I remember crying, and I remember the look in my father's eyes. Then . . ." She held her hooves up in the air. "I don't remember much of the next few days. I just remember using my magic to create a light show for my father, who was drinking. It was so remarkable that he nearly forgot about my mother. And then I got my cutie mark." She smiled weakly, a faint gleam in her eyes.
Flim raised his eyebrows and nodded, acknowledging her story. "Do you think your mother would be proud to see your magic now?"
Trixie glanced down. "My magic, perhaps, but not the way I've been acting. After a show gone wrong, I . . . I realized that the way I had been acting was not . . . admirable, let's say. I was ashamed of my actions and chose to run away."
"You made a mistake!" said Flim angrily. Realizing how loud his voice was, he blushed and lowered his voice. "Everypony makes mistakes. I make mistakes all the time. Why would you quit your show just because you made a mistake?"
Trixie coughed. Her blue cheeks grew pink. "Er, it wasn't that I ruined a show, exactly. It was more that, er, well . . . all right, I told everypony that I defeated an Ursa Major, all right? Then two stupid foals went into a dangerous forest and brought back an Ursa Major for me to defeat. I told them that I couldn't, and some obnoxious small-town pony defeated it for me." She covered her face with one hoof. "And she had never done a magic show or anything! She was just a quiet, ugly, small-town pony." She refused to look at Flim and kept her face buried in her hoof, causing her last sentences to be muffled. "You're the first pony I've talked to in years. I've just been hiding in forests."
Flim, to the great surprise of Trixie, laughed.
"Why are you laughing?" she asked indignantly. "Are you laughing at the fact that an inexperienced pony beat me in magic skills? Well, I'll have you know that she had something special about her and it was probably just a fluke and she was just—"
"No, no," said Flim, still chuckling. "It's just that it's always the small-town ponies, isn't it? The only time the Flimflam brothers failed to put a cider company out of business was when we had a contest against a small family and their friends. Those Ponyville citizens, I tell you . . ."
Trixie's face drained of color. Her mouth literally dropped open in shock. "What's wrong?" asked Flim, frowning.
"You said Ponyville?" she gasped, her eyes the size of dinner plates. Flim nodded, a confused expression on his face. "That's . . . that's the town where—"
"Where the pony defeated the Ursa Major?" finished Flim.
Trixie pressed her lips together and nodded. "I know that it's childish, but I've always had a dream where I train up and go back to Ponyville and defeat her. But I guess that's impossible, right? I'll probably be too afraid to ever go back there, and if I do go back, I'll just be ridiculed. Still, before I fall asleep every night, I wish that I could go back in time and summon the skills to defeat the Ursa Major." She glanced up at Flim. "Do you ever think of seeking revenge?"
He shook his head, chuckling a little. "I think that it's hilarious that a few small-town ponies could defeat my brother and me. I respect them for it, almost."
"Respect," said Trixie, trying it out on her tongue. "Maybe . . ." She let her sentence go unfinished, but in the silence that followed, Flim saw a more peaceful expression gradually take over her face. He hadn't even realized she she was tense until he saw her relax.
He saw her shiver slightly, and remembering the cider in the back he brought, he hurriedly unzipped the backpack. "I managed to salvage some cider from the funeral," he said awkwardly, grabbing two of the three mugs. "It's the last Flimflam cider in Equestria. It's the warm kind, not the cold kind, so I thought that you might want a mug."
Trixie beamed. "Of course I do! It's been so long since I've had any drink other than river water. I remember that when I was still famous—" she cringed, as if the memory stung her— "I'd have plenty of cider brought to me before a show. It always helped me perform my best." She took a hearty swig and sighed happily. Remembering her manners, she quickly added a grateful thank-you.
Flim nodded, sipping his own cider. The familiar taste of the drink made his eyes well up and his throat burn. How was it possible that he would never make cider with Flam again? How was it possible that he would never smell apples, would never hear the clank of the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, would never hear his brother laugh?
As he drained the last of his cider, he heard the nosei of Trixie's teeth chattering. A cold autumn breeze had picked up, and she had drained her mug of warming cider.
There's one more mug in the bag, he remembered. As he reached for the bag, he froze. That was the last mug of Flimflam cider! He wanted to treasure it forever, smell the cider first thing every morning!
No. He would not give it to some washed-up pony, no matter how pretty or freezing cold she was. As he moved away from the bag, a voice called out to him from the back of his mind. He froze. That was Flam's voice, as clear as if Flam was sitting next to him.
Are you really going to mourn me for the rest of your life? Really? It was an accident, brother of mine. I died laughing, the way I wanted to. I died working with apples, the way I wanted to. We'll see each other in another life, and I expect to hear all about how you died the same way. But we won't see each other for a long time, and in that time, I want you to be generous with pretty mares. Isn't that what the Flimflam brothers are all about? We share our cider with disadvantaged ponies who aren't blessed with such lovely cider.
Flim cried out, startled by the voice. Trixie turned to him, concerned. "Are you all right?" she asked, frowning.
He nodded blankly. Then, before he could change his mind, he reached into the bag. "Here," he blurted out, handing her the mug of cider. "It'll warm you up."
She looked up at him, eyes wide. "Aren't you going to have some?"
Waving a hoof, he shook his head. "Of course not. You've got to catch up on your cider drinking; I'm sure that there's none in the woods!"
She beamed, her eyes bright instead of beaten-down and lonely. "You are a truly wonderful stallion." She gulped it down before stretching out on the dying grass. Winter Set-Up would come soon, and Flim expected that it would be a cold time in the woods for her.
"Er, Trixie . . ." As she turned to Flim, his mind raced with things to say. He had just met her, and yet he was inviting the famous mare to live with him! "It's going to be a long winter," he blurted out. "It always is. Er, if you want to, that is, do you want to . . . I mean . . . stay with me for the winter? And maybe after the winter?"
There was no answer for a few moments, and Flim panicked. Had he said the wrong thing? Maybe she liked living in the woods. But when she spoke, her voice was warm.
"Nopony's ever offered that to me," she said softly. "I'd just sleep in my carriage whenever I went to a new town. Nopony invited me to have tea, or just to talk—not that I was exactly the most approachable." She lay on the grass silently for a few more seconds, staring at the sky. "Of course I'll stay at your house. I'd love to stay at your house." She held his hoof in her own and locked eyes with him. "You are the most generous pony I've ever met."
He chuckled, embarassed. "You must not have met many generous ponies," he said, lying down next to her so that they were almost touching. "But for tonight, do you want to sleep out here? My house is a ways away, and I don't feel like facing other ponies tonight."
"Wonderful idea," she said softly, closing her eyes and curling up. After a few minutes, Flim could hear the steady breathing of a sleeping pony. His heart pounded in a way that he hadn't felt since he was a foal and a filly kissed him.
Making sure not to wake Trixie from her peaceful sleep, Flim gently touched his horn to hers, remembering that the horn was the most sensitive part of a unicorn's body. Maybe that didn't always have to be a bad thing.
A warm glow radiated between their horns, making a small smile appear on Trixie's sleeping face. Flim grinned as well. That warmth told him all he needed to know about Trixie's feelings for him.
When he went back to his original position on the grass, Trixie stirred. "You know," she muttered drowsily, "this is the first time in months that I haven't gone to sleep thinking of revenge."
Flim didn't ask what she was thinking of. He was pretty sure he knew. This would be the first time in weeks that he wouldn't fall asleep thinking of Flam lying in a pool of blood. Tonight, he would dream of the warmth from Trixie's horn.
