She leaned against the lamp post under its shallow light, waiting, staring at the street and her shoes. Aquamarine hair almost obscuring her light green face.

After a while, she looked up again, trying to remember what the sky had looked like away from the city lights, how completely full of stars it had been. What it had felt like, years ago, when she’d first arrived at Camp Everfree, seeing them fully for the first time.

Then, she looked down again, trying to remember the last time she’d felt anything but misery and regret.

Probably a little after the memory stone was broken, she decided. Things had been good for a while, once that hellish thing was gone. She’d had people she could share things with. People she could do things with.

Hell, a few of them had even understood what she’d been going through. Which had been weird, but weird in a good way. Sunset and Fluttershy in particular had both known what it was like, always being on the outside, looking in.

And Twilight had found a way to measure what turned out to be, not other people just ignoring or forgetting her, but a special magic of her own. And from there, the Rainbooms had worked to help their new friend actually control her powers.

But even that memory had its thorns, and it stung her when she held it too closely.

She’d been outside with the rest of the Garden Club when the Sirens’ goons had screeched to a halt in front of the school, launching missile after missile into the building. She could still remember the sudden, jarring impact against the ground when Principal Celestia had knocked her and her fellow students down, shielding them as best she could. The deafening blast and the taste of blood, and the high-pitched whine that had followed.

Later, the green girl had found out that similar things had happened all over the campus. Luna at the far side of the building, shoving whatever students she could downstairs into the basement, screaming at them to run, to get cover. Cranky Doodle pulling others into the men’s room, shoving them into a corner, covering them with his own body. And a few others, here and there, saving whoever they could in the bare seconds before the building had been brought down upon them.

A few of the students had survived. Only a few.

But so far as she knew, none of the teachers had.

Even after that, though, she’d stayed away from the violence. Even when the Sirens had divided the city up between them. Even when Sunset and the rest had started taking up arms.

When the Siren War had started in earnest, she’d gone to college. At the time, it had seemed the best way to honor the dead, to repay them. And with that thought urging her forward, she’d taken sixteen, eighteen hours a semester, desperately racing towards the chance to make the world a little better than it was.

A while later, the Siren War was over, and the city was as saved as it was going to get. The Sirens were dead, along with Rarity, Applejack, and too many others. Twilight was comatose. And for their folly, the surviving Rainbooms were imprisoned, with Rainbow Dash slated for execution.

Which was unjust, in her opinion. And cruel. But no less than what she had expected.

And so, in the aftermath of her city’s horrors and her own, she’d mourned, grown, and ultimately graduated. Not at the top of her class by any means. But with a double major in business and ecological studies, she’d known she’d finally be able to make things better. She could fight for the environment, whether from within the government or the business sector. She could help pave the way for functional recycling, green energy, lower carbon emissions...

...and then, Trixie had found her.

As a kid, it had never occurred to the green girl to think of her own magic, so called, as anything but a curse. But after making friends with the Rainbooms and Trixie, that had changed. And in the intervening years, she’d gotten better and better at not only turning her obfuscating powers off, but at strengthening their effects when they were on.

So, when Trixie had sought her out, she’d assumed it had been as a friend; it hadn’t even occurred to her to hide until it was too late. And when she’d realized, when she’d tried to escape, tried to make Trixie just forget that she’d ever known her...

...Trixie had just given a careless wave of her hand, pinning her to the wall in an aura of jade.

And with eyes blazing their new strange, green glow, in between her prisoner’s screams of pain, Trixie had explained to her exactly how things were going to be from then on. Taken a lock of her leaf-green hair. Told her what it was for.

And then, Trixie had just... let her go. Rightfully secure in the knowledge that she would never dare show defiance again, no matter how trifling.

Back in the present, thunder growled lazily, threatening more spring rain. She sighed, hugging herself miserably. In a way, it had been her own damned fault. She’d thought she could be happy. Have a life, with friends and a career, like normal people could. Make a difference. Make things better.

Fool.

For the thousandth time, Wallflower Blush cursed alien magical stones and the price they demanded. The caustic effect that they seemed to have on the soul. First, there had been the memory stone. Now, there was the green jewel in that cloak clasp that Trixie wore, her so-called Alicorn Amulet.

In name, Wallflower was a lieutenant in the Children of Trixie, second only to Trixie herself. And if the rank-and-file worshiped Trixie as their goddess, then they certainly saw Wallflower Blush as their High Priestess.

But in reality, Wallflower was a slave. She knew it perfectly well. And rare, indeed, was the occasion that Trixie let her forget that.

The green limousine glided to a halt in front of her, breaking her out of her reverie. She winced as she heard the doors unlock.

Maybe Trixie’ll be in a good mood, she thought. Or at least, maybe she’ll punish somebody else.

Hating herself for that last thought, Wallflower Blush made herself push off the pole and climb in, there to speak with her great and powerful mistress once more.

The limo was armored, of course, though Wallflower suspected that was more for Trixie’s convenience than her protection.

Wallflower sat, closing the door behind herself, enclosing herself in the near-darkness of Trixie’s mobile throne room. As was often the case, the partition divider between driver and passengers was raised, the lights in the rear compartment dimmed. The interior was opulent, varying shades of forest, lime, and Kelly green. But in the presence of the Great and Powerful Trixie, none of that mattered.

Trixie’s eyes cast an emerald light as Wallflower sat, the same glow as the spherical jewel the magician wore at her throat. And that alien light illuminated the space more than enough, even as it deepened every shadow into a far greater darkness.

“There are things not right in the world, Wallflower Blush,” Trixie said in an almost reptilian tone, fingers steepled. “Things that should not be. Missing product. Missing funds. Followers deserting their posts. Trixie finds herself lacking what she desires, and what an upcoming step in her plans will require. You may now explain to Trixie why this is.”

Wallflower cleared her throat nervously. “Right. Um. So, I found out what happened to your dealers. Turns out somebody did a run through campus, ripping them all off and then turning them in.”

Trixie’s eyebrows raised. “Turning... them... in?”

“Um, yeah. And basically unharmed, all of them. I guess they’re being held without their rights or something, so they haven’t called... but they’re all alive. Just locked up.”

“Mmm. Trixie is confused. Are you sure that you haven’t left anything out?”

Wallflower swallowed. “Only that, since they’re all still alive, they could ID who did it. Plus, I’ve got confirmation from Gabby. He managed to get away.”

“That was the sordid shoot-up on campus that Trixie heard about, yes?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah, it was.”

The magician nodded. “Trixie understands. But tell Trixie, who was responsible for these thefts?”

Wallflower wrung her hands, then rubbed them on her pants. “It was... it was Rainbow Dash. She’s back in the game. Which can only mean that Twilight and the rest are, too.”

She paused, swallowing again before adding, “I think we should skate.”

The robed woman across from her gave a dismissive wave. “The Great and Powerful Trixie does not run from a challenge, Wallflower Blush. And she certainly does not ‘skate.’ Trixie thinks you should know that by now.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Shhhhh.” Trixie said quietly, one finger upraised as though admonishing a child. “Trixie is thinking.”

Wallflower swallowed again, and said nothing. The shadows veered wildly as Trixie looked out a side window for several moments. Then she focused her glowing orbs upon Wallflower again with an inhuman steadiness.

“Trixie has come to a decision,” she pronounced. “Twilight having her people spare those dealers is most certainly a statement. One saying that either she has become too weak to kill, or so powerful that she no longer needs to.”

“And... you’re saying she’s become that powerful?”

The magician’s smile was cold. “No, but Trixie is certain that Twilight thinks so.”

She paused, fixing Wallflower with her luminous eyes. Not for the first time, Wallflower’s mind flashed back to an old cartoon she’d seen when she was a kid. About mice that lived in a tiny church or abbey or something.

And there had been this one scene, where a serpent had been tracking the mice, hissing its own name as it hunted them, finally fixing them in its hypnotic stare. And the mice it had caught just froze, trembling. Waiting to be eaten. Too afraid to move, too afraid to look away.

She hadn’t understood what that might be like, as a kid.

She knew she understood it now.

Finally, Trixie spoke again.

“When you were gathering this information, Trixie imagines you had to do so in the police station, correct?”

“Um... yeah?”

“Did anyone see you?”

Wallflower let out the breath she’d been holding, and gave what she hoped was a suitable shrug. “Nobody who’ll remember. Half of the cameras were down, and avoiding the other half was no big deal.”

Trixie nodded, smiling. “That’s perfect. Trixie is pleased. Did you find anything else?”

“Yeah, I did,” Wallflower affirmed eagerly. “Twilight’s apparently public enemy number one so far as the cops are concerned, including her brother. He’s got a special task force just for her, including a hacker on loan from somewhere.”

“Oh? From where?”

“Dunno yet. But I got you a picture of her.”

Wallflower handed her a print-out of a young woman in glasses with crimson hair, hunched over a keyboard in a room with concrete walls. Trixie took and examined it, her smile turning more contemplative. She reached a blue hand behind her and rapped on the partition twice, and the limo began to slow.

“This is very interesting,” she said. “You have done very well, indeed. Trixie is very pleased with you, Wallflower Blush. Do keep Trixie appraised.”

“Um... yeah. I’ll do my best.”

The limo stopped. Taking Trixie’s last words as a dismissal, Wallflower opened the door. She was halfway out when Trixie spoke again, very quietly, very dangerously.

“Oh, and one more thing, Wallflower Blush.”

Wallflower froze, one foot on the curb. “Yeah?”

“Contact Gabby. Let him know... he should run.”

Wallflower’s face paled to a delicate mint color. She looked back just long enough to give a brisk nod and exited the vehicle, walking away as quickly as she dared.

Trixie had scarcely noticed Wallflower’s rushed exit, nor even when the vehicle began to move once more. For her mind was on other, more triumphant matters. Matters not of mere destiny or fate, but of absolute superiority of will.

After all, Wallflower Blush had her paltry powers by a whim of chance, nothing more. Likewise the Rainbooms, with their magic crystals from wherever. Even the Sirens, so far as Trixie could tell, had simply lucked into their magic, whether by birth or by chance.

But not she.

Not Trixie.

For it had been Trixie and Trixie alone who had looked upon the Sirens’ newfound power with something other than a common, animalistic fear. Trixie who had observed that their amulets had been replaced, not with a new set of crimson jewels, but a trio of mystical green gems. Trixie who had truly appreciated what that particular change had implied.

For Trixie had known, even then, that power possessed in the hand could be passed from one hand to another. Which meant that such power could be taken.

It had required time. And patience. Fortunately, Trixie had been both cunning and wise. For Trixie had known, even from the beginning, that all she had to do was wait for the proper moment. And then, she could claim what was rightfully hers.

The first had been the most difficult. Adagio had been the closest the three had had to a leader. The Rainbooms had targeted her first, figuring that without her, the other two would quarrel more than actually coordinate. And, Trixie had to admit, they’d been mostly right.

The hard part had been getting in at the right time: after the fight, and after the Rainbooms had departed; yet before anyone else came in to claim treasures that they could neither use nor understand. Fortunately, the Great and Powerful Trixie had by that time completely mastered every nuance regarding the art of teleportation.

There had been a close call when she’d materialized in front of a few straggling members of Adagio’s gang. But they had been dealt with

The sudden, terrified realization that they know she is there, somewhere in the billowing smoke. The sound of them drawing their guns, her panic as she empties her own into the area, terrified beyond thought, until after a time her hearing returns, and she can hear someone screaming and screaming and she realizes that it’s her...

easily enough. Then, it was simply a matter of taking the first hemispherical gem from Adagio’s unworthy corpse. For, whatever world she had come from, she was obviously unready to wield the true potential of magic.

Trixie walks past the other corpses as quickly as she can without really looking at them. But Adagio is on her side, facing away. To reach the amulet, Trixie pulls gingerly at her shoulder. The dead body rolls and Adagio’s head lolls, dead eyes staring into Trixie’s own. Trixie gasps, covers her own mouth with both hands, and runs.

Minutes later, Trixie’s stomach is beginning to cramp as she continues to vomit into the nearby corner again and again, dry heaves giving way to bitter, yellow bile. Perhaps twenty feet away, Adagio’s bullet-riddled corpse is still staring at her.

With the first segment of the gem in her possession, gathering the other two had been much easier. Two hemispheres and a disc, unjustly and ignorantly severed and divided between three unjust and ignorant people. But when brought together again, they had rejoined seamlessly at her touch.

At the touch of Trixie.

Trixie, the Great and Powerful.

The Siren’s dull, staring eyes would return in her nightmares for weeks afterwards. But only for a few weeks; her dreams being slowly, mercifully replaced one by one by the welcome, all-consuming green glow of her newfound magic.

Over a third of the city was already under Trixie’s thrall, and in a fashion that was both stable and easy to maintain. A true magician needed nothing so crass as the mind control of an emotivore.

Simple compulsion. Influence.

And above all, personal power.

Power that would only increase once she had added the Rainbooms’ magic to her own.

I just want magic, she thinks as she joins the first two pieces together. Real magic. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be able to do more, to know more, to be more.

I’m not like the Sirens, she thinks as she joins the third piece, re-uniting the sphere once more. I’m Trixie! And Trixie will always use her power to help people, help her friends, heal the wounds the Sirens have inflicted on the world.

I can be the Great and Powerful Trixie; the way Trixie always should have been.

And Trixie can finally get the recognition she deserves.

She would allow herself the distraction of taking the Rainbooms’ magic, Trixie decided. She could afford the luxury, and the potential gain would make it more than worth the delay. For with their added power, the other gangs would fall that much more quickly. It was inevitable; Trixie was too great, too powerful, and above all too wise to fail.

Once the other gangs had fallen to Trixie, what little political or economic power in Canterlot City that was still legitimate would be Trixie’s to claim. After that, expanding her reach throughout the state would be child’s play. Then the USE. Ultimately, every nation on Gaia would bow to her, in fear and adoration of their newfound queen and deity.

And then, there would only be Trixie.

And none would be so great and powerful as she.

Contemplating the future, dreaming of her impending godhood, Trixie’s eyes pulsed green in time with the spherical jewel she wore at her throat, thrumming and purring its encouragement to her as she schemed.

Author's Note

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Ending Credits: The Man Who Sold the World, by David Bowie.