Twilight Sparkle had grown accustomed to seeing the little purple wagon almost in spite of herself. Nestled as it was by the roots of her castle, it made her think of a cat that had wandered into a house but steadfastly refused to admit it was anypony’s pet. Indeed, so did its owner.
Twilight had never considered herself much of a cat pony, even before meeting Opalescence.
Still, she knocked on the door. This was more important than her own feelings about certain ponies who she had definitely forgiven for any past transgressions, since princesses were supposed to be forgiving and generous and she was of course a princess. Ergo, she didn’t hold a grudge. Quod erat demonstrandum.
The door flew open, passing within a millimeter of Twilight’s face. “Can’t you read!?”
Twilight had never noticed the larger lung capacity she’d got along with her wings until now, but she appreciated how it let her take a much, much deeper breath than normal. “Hello, Trixie.”
“Sparkle," said the showmare, who looked strangely naked without her hat or cape. The goggles didn't help the sense of surreality. "That question goes double for you. Trixie thought a mare who fills any of her unoccupied living space with books could notice a sign, but she supposes you just eat the things.”
“What sign?”
Trixie raised an eyebrow, reached out with a forehoof, and closed the door most of the way. “That sign.”
And there was indeed a sign stuck onto the door with a bit of masking tape. One on stationery marked with an intimately familiar starburst. "From the Desk of Princess—"
"Oh, like you can't spare it. Keep reading."
Another pegasus-biology-assisted deep breath. “Great and Powerful Mare at Work, Do Not Disturb,” Twilight read aloud.
The door flew back open, close enough to brush against the fur on Twilight’s muzzle. Trixie didn’t give her much more distance. “And yet here you are, disturbing Trixie during some extremely delicate alchemy. To what does Trixie owe the dubious honor?”
Twilight couldn't keep herself from blurting out, “You know alchemy?”
Trixie made a point of pushing the goggles up over her eyes. Her fur was lighter underneath, which meant there was soot in there in addition to the poor lighting. “You caught Trixie doping her latest, peerless batch of magical fireworks with octoferric oxide.”
“Octoferric oxide!?” Twilight took wing and backed away from the powder keg of a wagon. “That stuff—“
“Can go up with the slightest magical spark. Trixie knows. She isn’t sure why you’re so surprised. You didn't think she bought all of the supplies for her shows, did you?" Trixie barked out a humorless laugh. "Trixie wouldn't be pulling her own wagon if she had that kind of money.”
"You've been parked here for the last three moons," Twilight deadpanned.
"Trixie fails to see your point."
Twilight shook her head. “Trixie, this is no joke. Octoferric oxide is a highly dangerous compound. Only—“
“Licensed, card-carrying members of the Alchemist’s Guild may use it. Trixie. Knows.” Trixie grabbed her hat off a hook by the door, held it brim-up in front of her, and waved her hoof over it in what were probably supposed to be mystic passes.
A burst of smoke erupted from beneath them, making Twilight cough until she felt a hoof brush against her ear. She flinched back, only to see Trixie grinning smugly at her, a card in that same, still extended hoof. “Behold, the Meticulous and Law-Abiding Trixie’s guild membership.”
Twilight almost took it in her magic, then remembered the powder a few feet in front of her that could turn the wagon into a cloud of shrapnel. She just leaned in close. “Everything does seem to be in order, including the official scorch mark.” She looked back at Trixie. “‘Patricia H. Lulamoon’?”
Trixie blushed and tucked the card back into her hat before flipping it onto her head. “It means 'noble.' Trixie’s mother thought it sounded exotic." She cleared her throat. The hat tipped back atop the goggles. "Now, if you’re satisfied with this little surprise inspection, what are you doing here?”
“I..." Twilight felt the urge to dismiss it and reminded herself she was a princess. A leader. A guide for future generations. She could put on her big filly saddle and move past an old grudge. Which she already had. "I was hoping we could talk.”
“Were you now?” Trixie raised an eyebrow. "Took you a while."
“It’s just…" Twilight's gut twisted. She told herself it couldn't go any worse than with the Duke of Maretonia. This time there weren't any trade deals at risk. "Well, I couldn’t help but notice a discrepancy in your magical knowledge between your first performance here and—”
“Shh!”
Twilight was sure Trixie hadn't teleported. The wagon would've exploded. And yet between one moment and the next, there as a blue hoof pressing into her muzzle. She pulled back a bit and said, “Huh?”
“Not out here. This is kind of personal." Trixie backed up enough that there was actually room for Twilight in the little wagon. "Come in, but try not to touch… well, anything." More quietly, she added, "You probably have more magic in your hoof trimmings than I do in my whole body.”
Twilight felt her ears fold back. "I could always come back when you're not making horribly unstable fireworks."
Trixie shook her head. "No, you've ruined Trixie's concentration. Best to get this out of the way so she can focus properly." She glared at Twilight, who still stood outside the door, and waved her in. "Well? Come in, already!"
Against her better judgement (and her worse judgement, and probably her mediocre judgement too,) Twilight did so. It was a tight squeeze between the crates of stage props, essentials for life on the road, and reagents whose labels she tried not to read too closely. “Shouldn’t you be doing this outside?”
That got her a snort and a flat look. “Have you ever tried to move a well-stocked alchemy lab?”
“Well—“
“One specializing in fireworks and smoke bombs?” Trixie waved a hoof over enough metal salts and black powder to season every meal in the Dragonlands. At least, that was how it felt in the tight confines.
“Point made.” Twilight took another deep breath, partly to take her mind off the explosive risk, partly because Trixie. “So, why is this so private that we couldn’t discuss it out in the open?”
Trixie looked out of every window she could before leaning in and whispering, “Trixie has learned not to underestimate Starlight.”
Twilight couldn't help but nod at that. “She does have a tendency to surprise you. But I still remember that show. I still haven’t figured out how you did that trick with the rainbow. Why act like you barely know how to light your horn around her?”
That got Trixie to shiver from head to tail. "Say that again."
"What? Why act like—"
Trixie shook her head. "No, no, the part where you still remember the show I did before the whole mess with the Ursa Minor." She giggled and trotted in place for a few steps before catching herself and glancing back at the still-quiescent chemicals.
Twilight sighed. "Trixie..."
"Say it and I'll explain the whole thing, I swear," said Trixie, putting a hoof to her heart.
"You're using first-pony pronouns. You must be serious." Twilight rolled her eyes and droned, "I still remember that show just after the thousandth Summer Sun Celebration. And, putting aside excessive retaliation against my friends—"
"Who were getting mad at a showpony for making a spectacle of herself."
"Trixie."
"What?" Trixie scoffed. 'It's true."
Twilight ground her teeth until she reminded herself she'd already forgiven Trixie. Really. "Putting that aside, you showed off some very impressive stage and conventional magic. You even successfully cast a spell on Rarity's mane! But Starlight tells me about teaching you some of the most fundamental magical concepts. Why?"
Trixie shrugged. “It’s for her own good.”
After a few moments of silence, Twilight said, “Seriously? That's it?”
“It is! I know it is.”
Twilight blinked at the illeism-free insistence. “How so?”
Trixie rolled her eyes. “Believe it or not, Sparkle, I do have some sense of restraint and humility and all that other boring stuff. You know, when I’m not wearing an evil soul-sucking amulet. And speaking as the Off-Stage and Adjectiveless Trixie—“
Twilight coughed into a fetlock.
“Fully aware of the irony." Trixie doffed her hat and threw it back onto its hook like she was tossing a horseshoe. "Speaking as just Trixie, I am positive that lowballing my magical knowledge will help Starlight.”
“How?”
“Oh, Sparkle," Trixie said with a pitying look. "I get it. You want everything honest and out in the open because you’re a scientist. Data’s easy, ponies are hard, right?”
“Well…" Twilight looked away, recognized the chemical formula she was now looking at, and tried to act like she didn't. "That’s not as true as it used to be, but, to a degree, yes. How did you know?”
“You’re not the only Canterlot filly in this wagon. I knew a lot of ponies like you before I left the Gifted School for greener pastures.”
“You went to Celestia’s Gifted School.” The words came out of Twilight's mouth before she could even think to stop them.
Trixie raised an eyebrow. “We had in the same Illusions and Phantasms lecturer for two years.”
“We did?”
“You realize this only proves my point.”
Twilight sighed. “Okay, fine, back then I was a shut-in who couldn’t see six inches in front of my muzzle because the book was in the way. Happy?”
“That’s not what I was going for, but yes. Very." Trixie snickered. Before Twilight could finish calculating how strong a shield she'd need to ensure her manestyle survived the blast, Trixie continued. "My point is that you’re a scientist. I’m an entertainer." She reared up, and Twilight caught herself imagining the billowing cape that completed the pose. "I play a role, tell a story, make the audience think they’re the most important ponies in the world.”
“That’s not how I remember your first show here.”
Trixie rolled her eyes. “Just because I haven’t sprouted wings doesn’t mean I haven’t grown as a pony since then.”
Twilight just gave her a flat look.
“I never said I grew much. But my days of spending half the show punishing hecklers are over, no matter how much they bring it upon themselves. Besides, I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.”
Twilight had to nod. “Starlight’s the audience.”
Trixie returned it. “Precisely. From the moment we met at the spa, I knew she needed a friend she could actually relate to.”
“Hey! Ow.” Twilight winced. There wasn't enough room in the wagon to spread her wings, but that darn dominance display reflex didn't care.
“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, Sparkle," said Trixie, "but you and your usual group are a little intimidating to those of us who don’t point magic jewelry at evil on a regular basis. Also kind of annoying with the whole ‘friendship friendship friendship’ thing.” She waved a hoof to demonstrate said thing.
Twilight glowered. “I do not go ‘friendship friendship friendship,’” she said, imitating the gesture.
“Starlight’s lessons.”
That called for a steadying breath. In with peace, out with stress. “Okay, I can see how a socially maladaptive pony might interpret those as me going ‘friendship friendship friendship.’ But how does that tie into lying about your magical aptitude?”
“Aside from the refresher courses? It makes Starlight feel good about herself and her magic. You know, her special talent? Nopony wants her feeling bad about her cutie mark." Twilight had to nod at that. Trixie did as well, then continued. "This way she’s helping a friend, not just serving out her parole with Princess Purple. She doesn’t feel like the low buffalo on the totem pole because when she looks down, she sees me looking up at her like that little orange colt looks up at Rainbow Dash.”
“Scootaloo is a filly,” said Twilight.
Trixie shrugged. “If you say so. Given how fast that thing usually goes, I’m not sure it’s a pony. The point is that I’m helping rebuild Starlight’s self-esteem and self-confidence after you annihilated it.” After a moment, she added, “Okay, you and the whole alternate timeline she created full of nothing but death and dust.”
Twilight blinked. “She told you about that?”
“Sharing stories about our past misdeeds is one of our big friendship bonding things,” Trixie said with a smile that was less smug than usual. Still nonzero quantities of smugness, but below the norm.
“What about your current misdeeds? I haven’t forgotten about the Cutie Map.”
“Snitching little coffee table.” Trixie took a deep breath. “Those help Starlight vent. She still feels like if she steps a hooftip out of line, you’ll toss her in Tartarus.”
Twilight gasped. “I would never—!”
Trixie held up her forehooves. “I know! It’s her own guilt talking. I used to feel the same way; why do you think I stayed away from Ponyville as long as I did? You know, besides the tough crowd. But that doesn’t mean she’s going to stop having ideas she’ll want to try out. I just encourage the more harmless ones.”
“‘More harmless’ being a relative term?”
Trixie nodded. “This is Starlight we're talking about. Also, it's fun, but that’s strictly a side benefit.”
“Of course it is." Twilight shook her head. "Well… I suppose I should thank you.”
“You should.”
After a few moments, Twilight sighed and said, “Thank you, Trixie. I didn’t realize I was missing such a vital part of Starlight’s psychological needs, and I certainly didn’t realize you were providing it. It really does show how we all have something more to learn about friendship.”
“And something to teach,” said Trixie, muzzle in the air.
“Yeah.” Twilight hummed to herself. “Yeah, it does.”
After a few moments, Trixie cleared her throat. “So… This has been nice and all, but I still have a lot of octoferric oxide that I’d like to get behind some magical insulation soon. If you would be so kind to leave Trixie to her work?”
Twilight's wings fidgeted. She held back a wince at the forming bruises. “You know, if you want to go over something Starlight doesn’t know well, I can try to find a hole in my schedule.”
Trixie rolled her eyes and turned back to her alchemy “Don’t do Trixie any favors… though she will consider your offer.”
“Thanks again, Trixie.”
“I’m doing this for all our sakes. You know better than anypony how dangerous Starlight is when she goes off the rails." After a pause, Trixie added, "Besides, she’s my friend.”
Twilight smiled and turned around. She opened the door to the wagon.
Maud stood not even an inch out the door's arc. “Are the two of you entangling yourselves and Starlight in a horrible web of lies?”
Both other mares shared a look of panicked befuddlement. “Uh…”
“Because I could use some help feigning interest in kites.”
Author's Note
I've seen a lot of Beatrixes (Beatrices?) but not many Patricia-Trixies. And her middle name is, of course, Hobbitses. It's traditional. Somewhere.
Octiron being especially magically reactive comes from The Wizzard and the Pony. The stuff is nearly impervious to the magic of the Discworld... but pony magic is anything but. Naturally, you use octiron compounds to get octarine sparks.
Trixie attending CSGU comes from one particular panel of the comics, same as all the data we have on her mother.
And yeah, this is the best explanation I can think of for the discrepancy between rainbow-bending, thunderbolt-summoning Trixie and "shouting the spell makes it happen" Trixie.
