Bewitching Trixie Lulamoon

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I put a spell on you, and now your mine

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Trixie Lulamoon was many things; alumni of Canterlot Academy for Magic, gifted unicorn and arcane historian, proud Protégé to Princess Celestia herself and not to mention intelligent and beautiful - or so everyone deemed to tell her as often as they could - and, if she could be bothered to boast, the owner of a sense of humor so dry no amount of water would ever have a hope of quenching it.

And she was also a good friend. A great friend, now that she thought about it, as she was currently rubbing elbows with stallions and mares of all ages as they cheered and yelled their appreciation for the spectacle unfolding before them, up on the glittering main stage.

For it was only because she was a good – great – friend that she would have ever agreed to actually come to something like this. She was better than this. She knew she was. She hadn’t spent years of her fillyhood having this sort of thing stamped out of her by her parents and private tutors. And her years spent at Canterlot Academy, whether or not her peers occasionally talked about it, their whispers behooving their mocking tones at this sort of… spectacle. This… debasement of magic.

At least, that’s what they always said, those same ponies that talk about such things. Secretly, though few would ever admit to it, they all quite enjoyed it. Trixie could tell from word of mouth that even though the more influential circles of pony society didn’t ‘approve’ of it, they took it with a glib, almost sardonic acceptance. And if the movers and shakers of high society accepted it, well, surely it must be good!

Even so, she would rather transform herself into a live rooster before admitting that she was attending a magic show with her friends.

She would rather consume the most powerful poison she could brew before admitting that she had actually offered to buy her friends’ tickets to said show.

Essentially, Trixie Lulamoon would rather swallow a mouthful of needles coated in salt before admitting to anyone that she was here to actually see Twilight Sparkle.

That's right -- the Twilight Sparkle.

To everypony else, her fans and the regular pony off the street, she was the Great and Powerful Twilight Sparkle. Trixie had offered the moniker, and had meant it ironically. But to her consternation, Twilight had run with it ever since.

To everypony else, Twilight Sparkle was an idol; an amazing unicorn whose passion for showmanship and magic thrilled unicorns, pegasi and earth pony alike. Fillies and colts shrieked aloud, pointing with trembling hands whenever she walked down the street, calling out ‘Mama! Look! It’s Twilight Sparkle! It’s Twilight Sparkle It’s really her!’ And, naturally, she would always stop when that happened, grinning so wide her lips would threaten to fall right off her face, and perform a spell right then and there, in front of everyone, to the cackling delight of the foal and the chagrined bemusement of their parents who stood not far away, shaking their heads in exasperation.

But, when Twilight Sparkle flipped her cape decorated with moons, stars and the sun and wiggled her fingers and bright purple fireworks exploded from the tips of her nails and their fillies clapped with foalish glee, even their parents had a glint of amusement in their eyes.

To all of Equestria, she was a bright star in the dark purplish blue twilight of magic, shining brightly right beside the world’s ever growing hunger for more.

To Trixie, however, she was just ‘Twilight’. Or, at least, she used to be. That was a long time ago. Back when they were still classmates in Canterlot and Twilight was a nopony – hardly even a drop of magical heredity in her veins and barely the skill to back up her bold words of being ‘Equestria's Greatest Showmare’.

How long had it actually been, Trixie wondered, since she had heard… even seen Twilight Sparkle? Five, seven, ten years? Too long, really. She had often wondered, since graduating and leaving Canterlot in a blaze of awards and recognition befitting a student of the Princess, what had become of her old friend Twilight. Of course, with the mare’s meteoric rise to stardom soon after it was obvious what she had chosen to do with her life after leaving, but one’s profession hardly told how one lived. It simply showed what they did.

So, in essence, Trixie simply had no idea what Twilight had been doing with herself all these years since school. How had her life been? Had she been eating well? Had she been keeping busy – keeping fit, as she had done during school in an effort to reach her dream of being a showmare on some level? Had she made new friends? Kept up with her old ones? Was she enjoying her life now, doing what she had always wanted to do with her life?

Was she happy?

All these questions often buzzed around in Trixie’s head like an overly curious hummingbird, flitting this way and that. She would ponder this for a few moments before shaking her head, shooing the little thing away.

Of course Twilight was happy. You could see that, plain as day, on her face. She was always in magazines and newspapers, pleased as punch, raving about her next appearance like it was the greatest thing in Equestria. Trixie only glanced at those interviews out of habit; a simply cursory look because hey, look, it’s an old classmate, and not hey, look, it’s the mare I lost my virginity to.

No… ‘lost’ was not the right word. Lost implies that something was missed, that you would eventually want it back. Glasses, a book or a favorite quill got ‘lost’. You would petition to your friends and neighbors if they had seen anything, in the hopes of getting said glasses or book or quill back someday. If not, no big deal, those things were easily replaceable.

Trixie would never admit, at least aloud to her friends and family, that she ‘lost’ her virginity to her old classmate when she was a teenager. Not only did she not miss it – for it had been willingly given – but she also had no regrets about her decisions. It had been worth it at the time, and she still firmly believed, years later, that it had been special.

It had been worth it, even if she and Twilight hadn’t spoken after leaving Canterlot.

But that all had absolutely no bearing on why Trixie only paid obligatory attention to any information regarding Twilight Sparkle whenever she happened across it. And it had nothing to do with why she had offered to pay for her and her friends’ tickets to Twilight’s show. Most certainly not.

She was Trixie Lulamoon, and she resolutely refused to admit that she missed Twilight Sparkle. She was simply curious about what all the buzz was about, and to see how Twilight had improved over the years in terms of her magic. Her friends could attest to that, even though they had hesitantly – but ultimately accepted – taken the extra tickets Trixie had purchased in addition to her own to go with her.

She was certainly not here at the mare’s very own magic show, dressed in a pretty but still casual blouse and knee-length skirt, her makeup carefully and meticulously applied to accentuate her best features – namely her eyes and high cheekbones – and her long, silvery mane piled high in a glossy, but still loose style that was a mix of ‘laid-back’ as well as ‘popular’. It was a style that the slightly younger, though still professional, mares sported when wanting to get noticed in public.

She was certainly not here in hopes that Twilight Sparkle would take notice of her in the crowd, surrounded by hundreds – no, thousands – of other guests, and look directly at her in the middle of her performance, and wink a single violet eye at her.

She was most certainly not here, her friends clapping politely at her sides and surrounded by cheering and adoring fans, watching as the lights dimmed and the crowd roared even louder and then slowly quieted, waiting for when Twilight would finally take the stage, her horn glowing in that soft lavender light that Trixie remembered so vividly and her trademark grin on her face.

It was what everyone else was here for.

Not Trixie. Not. At. All.

“Do you all love magic?”

Trixie felt a familiar thrill rip through her as a voice – an oh-so-familiar voice echoed through the audience, seemingly coming from right beside her. She knew it hadn’t, of course, but the spell was effective nonetheless, as a little earth pony filly to the right of Trixie gasped, her hands clasped over her mouth, eyes wide as she looked around.

Trixie smothered a smile; she had forgotten how susceptible foals were to parlor tricks like this… especially those who were not raised around magic, as she had been.

“Did you know,” the voice came again, this time from her other side. The little filly jumped again, and Trixie rolled her eyes, her smirk growing. “That magic is all around you? It’s in the air you breathe, on the ground you walk, in the water you drink and the food you eat… It’s everywhere. Even inside of you.”

“Magic comes from your heart, and those around you. It’s a part of you; each one of you. And if you believe enough, you can do anything. You can accomplish… anything.”

The lights dimmed further, the only light coming from small, iridescent points on the stage. Trixie recognized them as conjured fireflies, and she secretly approved of the subtle use of the spell to create them. It was all very atmospheric, and she marveled at how Twilight managed to be able to create hundreds, even thousands of magical fireflies at the same time.

She had grown by leaps and bounds, it seemed. Trixie’s curiosity was now piqued, and she was interested to see how else the mare who had once been her – what had she been, anyway? Classmate? Friend? Lover? – had improved. What skills she had polished, and how she had grown in the years since then.

Suddenly, inexplicably, at that point all Trixie wanted was to see Twilight there, on the stage. She didn’t just want to hear her voice, a breathless, disembodied whisper in her ears as she stood there, sweat pooling at the small of her back in the swell of the crowd. She wanted to see her, to take the mare in with her own two eyes, to see how she walked, how she moved and how she dressed, how she smiled.

Seeing her picture on occasion, whether in the newspaper or posters on the city streets, wasn’t enough for Trixie. Not now; not when she was so close to actually seeing her. With the idea that Twilight was far away, either on tour or well enough on the other side of the country, Trixie could put her out of her mind, concentrating on her own work and her own life. She could ignore the feeling, deep down inside her gut, gnawing at her insides like a living thing, that she and Twilight were in fact not a thing. They weren’t together. And they hadn’t seen each other in nearly ten years.

No, catching a mere glance at the likeness of Twilight Sparkle’s form out of the corner of her eye; whether it was a magazine article in a coffee shop while Trixie sipped at her steam cup of tea in the mid-morning, or in an doll – It’s an action figure! She could almost hear Twilight stamp her foot indignantly and angrily lash her tail at that – clutched in the stubby fingers of some foal as they waved it around, just wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

Which was why, quite unexpectedly, when Twilight’s lithe form finally appeared on the stage in a bright flash of light and a pop of magic, Trixie felt her heart leap into her throat in excitement. It wasn’t a feeling she felt often, and a rush of adrenaline washed through her as the crown roared and clapped their hands, filling them with a burst of energy that seemed like a kind of magic all its own. Though, that was impossible, since Trixie would have recognized if she had been bewitched. She would have known, and been able to dispel the enchantment faster than she could blink.

No, this was something else. Something… physical. A different, but still obvious reaction that made her want to just cheer along with everyone else in the audience. To clap her hands together and holler and grin even wider and louder than the awestruck filly to her right, who looked to have tears in her eyes by this point.

But, she was Trixie Lulamoon. Not some six or seven year old foal with a doll – sorry, action figure – clutched to her breast. She was Trixie Lulamoon! She was above all of that. She could stifle her odd, though not entirely unpleasant, urge to clap and cheer and simply stand there, enjoying the show as it unfolded.

Twilight Sparkle had certainly grown up, Trixie noted once the flash died down and the mare’s silhouette filled in with sharp shades of pinks, purples and greens. On anyone else, such a haphazard assortment of colors would have seemed gaudy – even grotesque, but on Twilight, who seemed to always be full of good cheer and an easy grin, the kaleidoscope seemed to work for her. Her top was loose; comfortable-looking and practical for spellcasting, a far cry from the regulation uniform shirts from their Canterlot Academy days. Her skirt was wavy, cinched at her waist attractively before sweeping over her hips and down her thighs, flaring out over her knees, Her boots were cut off at her ankles, and looked both worn and comfortable.

But it was the mare’s face that drew Trixie’s attention like a starving pony eyeing her first meal in days. She was older, true, but the youthfulness that Twilight always had remained, her soft features only enhanced by a subtle maturity. Her eyes, once large, wide and a lovely shade of purple matching Trixie's own, were still the same, but sparkled with the intelligence and experience of life. Her mane and tail, still as long and dark as always, flowed freely, like liquid strands of amethyst and the same streak of bright pink from underneath her performer’s hat, fanning out around her as she twirled merrily around the stage.

Her coat was still the same rich lavender color Trixie remembered, and the way to caught the light as she pranced about on stage, spinning on her heels and kicking her legs like she was less a magician and more of a dancer, Trixie suddenly found it hard to swallow.

After all, Twilight had always been more than a little of a show-off. Even when she had nothing substantial to show, it never once stopped her. And now that she had the skills and the experience to back it up, Trixie had to admit that the entire effect was enchanting.

After a moment Twilight paused, gently twirling around on the spot like a ballerina. Her eyes swept over the crowd slowly, leisurely, taking in the different ponies that had come to see her. With each pony she took in her smile seemed to grow more and more pronounced until it seemed nearly ready to leap right off her face.

“Thank you so much for coming tonight,” she announced happily. “Each and every one of are very special to me – to each other – and I hope that by the end of the show, everyone has something to take away from here. Even if it’s a simply hop in your step. Because, really, that’s all I want. To use magic to make ponies happy.” And then, her smile turning cheeky – Trixie felt her stomach churn at the familiar expression on her old friend’s face – she thrust hands up towards the sky and called out, “And that’s why I love magic!”

There was a flash from her horn and a crack of sparks and a gust of wind, and the tens of thousands of fireflies hovering around her began to move as one, swirling around each other, dancing with each other and zipping into the audience, moving to and fro between clapping mares and stallions, cheering and laughing foals, and a properly chagrined Trixie Lulamoon.

Then, to Trixie’s surprise, one of the fireflies flew straight towards her. Blinking, Trixie had the impulse to dispel the enchantment, but thought better of it. She knew they were benign – not all that dangerous – and more of a gimmick than anything, but that didn’t stop her from flinching slightly when the rogue firefly sunk into her body, leaving a faint glow and lingering warmth in her front blouse pocket. Curious, she reaching up to withdraw the only thing she knew she had in it.

It was her ticket to the show. Already stamped and dated, it was little use to her now and, doing her best to ignore the cheers and clapping around her, she flipped the piece of paper over—

and felt her heart leap into her throat.

There, in faintly glowing letters, was a message for her:

Having fun, Trixie?

If you want to catch up later, ditch your friends and come to dressing room C. Can’t wait to see you

Enjoy the show

Twilight

xox

The words shimmered as she re-read the note, and then, when the magic was used up, the light faded and the ticket cooled, becoming plain paper.

That… was actually a neat trick. She would have to remember that.

Damn it, Trixie cursed to herself. She hadn’t really intended Twilight to know she was here tonight. She had sort of secretly hoped she would… but hadn’t seriously planned on it. Clearly, she had underestimated her old friend. And now that Twilight knew Trixie was here, at her show, and had the chance to meet again after ten years of not speaking, or even seeing each other… Trixie had no idea what to do.

She could ignore the message. Trixie could very well shove the ticket back into her pocket, pretend she hadn’t seen anything, and just enjoy the remainder of the show with everypony else. She could leave when the show was over, and that would be that. She knew Twilight wouldn’t follow her, or pester her. She wasn’t that kind of a pony; never had been. She was assertive, borderline pushy in some ways, especially when discussing magic, but she never forced anypony to do anything. Trixie knew she could walk away, and she would never see Twilight again.

But did she want that?

On the other hand, she could accept the invitation. But if she did… what would happen? Twilight wanted to ‘catch up’… what did that even mean? Would they sit around and drink tea, eat a cookie and talk about the past ten years apart? That’s what most ponies did when they ‘caught up’ after so long.

But Trixie knew, both from reputation and from personal experience, that Twilight Sparkle was not most ponies.

Double damn it.

And then, as if it was meant to be, Trixie looked up at the stage. Her eyes traced the floor to Twilight’s boots, and then up her legs to her hips, her waist and bust, her narrow shoulders as she danced around, waving her arms as she cast spell after spell, her horn flashing with purple light as she performed with practiced ease. Trixie's gaze eventually found its way back down to her neck. Twilight's neck had always been slender, and Trixie shivered as she felt an all-too-familiar memory of her lips and tongue tasting the downy purple fur around Twilight’s throat.

With effort, Trixie finally made it up to Twilight's face, and then froze.

She was looking at her. Twilight was staring directly at Trixie out of a crowd of a thousand or more people. And then she winked.

Triple damn it!

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To be continued...

Author's Note

Anypony have any good cover art for this sucker? :-3

Song lyrics amuse me.

Also, thanks to Demous_Abyss for their help with some proofreading. Any mistakes are mine and not theirs.