Somewhere in Saddle Arabia…
Trixie was no stranger to the basics of survival. The wilderness demanded such, and travelling alone she’d had to fend for herself for as long as she could remember. She knew what plants to eat, how to treat and cure her wounds, where to find water – skills sharpened to an instinct by years of necessity.
She had thrived on her own. Why wouldn’t she? The Great and Powerful Trixie excelled at whatever she puts her mind to! Nopony else could pull a wagon with such speed and grace. Nopony else could trek a thousand miles across rugged terrain and still have the strength to set up shop. Nopony else could astound a crowd with daring feats of mystery and imagination.
And nopony, not nopony, could light a fire… quite… like… Trixie!
But for the umpteenth time this evening, the tinder failed to catch.
“Drats!” she cursed, slamming both flint and steel into the sand with her magic. “Why now?! Why now, when we’re in the middle of flipping nowhere?!”
They’d grown worn from overuse, she’d known it for months, but never thought they’d actually lose their spark. They were just a rock and a bit of metal, after all. Was it so much to expect them to be consistent, at least until they actually broke? How was she supposed to replace them, with nothing but sandstone and mountainous dunes in every direction?
And a village. Or town, rather, where she could feasibly barter them off for a discount replacement set. It was nestled on the banks of an oasis – the very same she’d made camp next to, and where her passenger had gone. It wasn’t often that she ever accepted company when touring Equestria, and in fact the last time she did so with Starlight was a less than ideal experience, but this was different. This had been practically forced on her, with very little time for any performance along the way.
The Great and Powerful Trixie went where she liked as she liked, and she did not like playing second fiddle on her own road show. Not that he was a better magician than her – no, far from it – but Trixie herself hadn’t planned this trip.
“Stupid Starlight,” she muttered beneath her breath. “Stupid Sunburst. Out of all the ponies in Equestria, why’d it have to be me?”
But she knew the reason why, and if she had learned anything about what friendship was, this was the only way. Even if it cut into her profits and made her wander through scorching deserts, without a single audience for weeks on end.
This town, she wasn’t in the mood for. Didn’t have the energy for it either. Wasn’t like they could spread word of her prowess that well anyway – the last settlement they’d stopped at was a fortnight ago. All of this trouble, just for a few lonely landmarks.
“Still no luck with the fire, huh?”
Trixie looked up, and despite gritting her teeth behind closed lips, she felt her frown soften a little. “Why do you insist on asking redundant questions?”
Sunburst chuckled, saddlebags full and sagging as he strolled toward the campsite. “It’s called small talk, or just making conversation. Or at least, I think that’s what it’s called. Doesn’t really matter. What I mean to say is, what’s wrong?”
“You know perfectly well what’s wrong.” She grasped both flint and steel in her magic again and held them up for him, while staring hard at the wood and kindling. “You’ve been gloating about it for months.”
“I don’t gloat.”
“Right, because telling Trixie ‘I told you so’ doesn’t count.”
“…When did I do that, exactly?”
“Just now.” She glared at him from the corner of her eye. “Still no luck with the fire? Yeah, thanks, Trixie really needed to hear that. As if she didn’t already know any better.”
Slowing to a halt by the trunk of an old palm tree, his ears pinned themselves back at the realisation. “Oh,” he said simply, like the simpleton he really was, before reaching a hoof up from beneath his cloak and covering his mouth while clearing his throat. “Well then, I’m… sorry. That it came across like that. I didn’t mean anything by it, truly.”
Perhaps he didn’t, but after countless weeks on the road together – and off-road, much to her annoyance – he should’ve learned his lesson by now. Amazing that somepony who’d memorised every single period of history and obscure mythological fact from every ancient civilisation in the world could also be so impossibly dense. But maybe that’s what happens when you insist on being a shut-in, poring over old books and magical tomes, eyesight worsening to the point you need glasses.
How he had the patience for it, she didn’t know, but faded marks on a bit of paper couldn’t teach you all there was to learn about magic – that much she did know. You had to have skill and experience, actual practice and dedication to the art. It was a living, breathing thing, not a science with rules that couldn’t be broken, or frozen in time and argued over.
He, to his credit, understood enough, but if he was half as wise as he was smart, then he could hold a candle to the radiant sun that was the Great and Powerful Trixie.
Sunburst sighed and drew a little closer. “Listen, if you haven’t had any luck by now, just let me make it up to you,” he said in a gentle tone, horn beginning to glow. “Quicker and easier for both of us.”
“What?” Trixie looked at him directly, only for another golden light in the kindling to catch her eye, and a sickening feeling twisted in her stomach. “No! I—”
But suddenly, the tinder and firewood came to life in a brilliant explosion of warmth. Trixie had to squint and shuffle back along the sand before her eyes could adjust, and when they did all she could do was stare. Two hours of work done in the fraction of a second, staving off the cold and darkness as the sun set beyond the horizon.
That was the power of magic – true magic, the stuff she could only play at, for all the study and practice she put into it. And standing right across from her was the stallion who made it happen, a sparkle in his eye and a proud little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The same kind of pride she felt whenever an audience cheered her name, begged for more, an encore, or whenever a colt or filly said they wanted to be just like her someday.
Then he turned to her, and any feelings of wonder she had died in an instant. “Ugh!” she grunted, stamping a hoof and rolling her entire head along with her eyes. “You’re impossible!”
“Wh— Huh?” He started to protest. “Why? What did I do?”
“Never mind!” Trixie shot up and whirled about, then stomped toward her wagon and the cooler night air, calling out over her shoulder. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, there’s no point in me telling you.”
“How does that make any sense?”
It didn’t, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to make him think, use that hairy noggin of his and come up with an answer halfway intelligent. He always managed to figure it out, eventually, and meanwhile she could spend some time alone without getting rubbed the wrong way. Stars knew she needed it.
Walking up the steps and kicking the door in, she stood at the entrance for a moment to gather her thoughts. What exactly had she come here for? Distance to be sure, but that couldn’t just be it – the Great and Powerful Trixie was a pragmatic mare, far above the pettiness of other ponies and their fickle emotions. Whatever she did had to have a purpose. She just needed to find it, was all.
Her stomach saw fit to remind her. Yes, cookware: a skillet, a pair of sporks, and a knife just in case. Of course, it would’ve helped if she asked what exactly he’d managed to track down for dinner, but she wasn’t about to start yelling for him not even a whole minute after storming off like she did.
But stars, did he seriously get under her nerves sometimes. Heck, if she knew how arduous this trip would be, bloated to the brim by an ever-expanding list of locations, she’d have turned Starlight down from the start – pretended that letter got lost in the post. Happens to everypony, thousands at a time.
Yet she didn’t. Couldn’t. Starlight wasn’t one in a thousand, she was one in a million, and the first pony in a long, long while who actually understood her. More than that, a pony who actually enjoyed her company, where most others would’ve called her off-putting. Whatever she could do to keep this friendship going, Trixie would without hesitation – that’s how much she valued it.
So when Starlight proposed a sightseeing trip to all of Equestria’s historical points of interest, most of which were crumbled ruins, all for the pleasure of her naïve and socially awkward childhood friend…
Well, this was the result.
The first couple of nights weren’t too bad, full of platitudes, apologies and other common courtesies that ponies do when they’re stuck in a situation they’re not fond of. Then came the first stop: some lone menhir with faded carvings, overgrown by vines and lichen – an ancient marker and waystone for travellers laid before Equestria’s founding. Not a single village or hamlet in sight, nor was there one for the next few days.
That’s when she realised this trip was his alone. Oh, she could find a little enjoyment here and there, learn a word from a long-dead language, turn the occasional profit in a small, isolated community she’d never heard of, to which she promised to return, but her satisfaction was never considered. Not that she asked anypony to do so; that would’ve been selfish and unbecoming of the Great and Powerful Trixie.
Such was the burden of her humility.
So it went, as days became weeks and weeks became months, and landmarks conveniently presented themselves at the most opportune times, there seemed to be no end. And she, being the good and honourable friend she was, obliged every whim and flight of fancy to the best of her abilities. It helped, of course, that some of these locations weren’t entirely run-down, so their majesty could be seen even to this day, and some other vistas simply had an air of natural beauty.
Meanwhile Sunburst would spend every moment regaling her with the history and contemporary significance of these places, and how incredible and humbling it was to finally see them in person. She thought about questioning why he needed her to take him, if he was so excited, but something about that just felt wrong – raining on his parade, when all he could see was sunshine and rainbows.
Trixie hung up her hat with a sigh and turned for the door, skillet and cutlery floating behind, then descended the steps back onto the sand. Sunburst had already sat himself by the fire, saddlebags spread on the ground with both flaps open, munching on something he’d no doubt taken from them. Typical that he’d start without her, though to his credit he stopped and noticed her approach relatively quickly.
“Oh. Did you expect we’d have to make dinner?” He shook his head, igniting his horn and levitating a clay urn out from one of the pockets and removing its lid for her to see inside. “They’re called falafels. Ground chickpeas and beans with added spice, fried in a coating of breadcrumbs. You should try them, they’re really nice.”
The skillet and cutlery fell out of the air as she stared at him in disbelief. “So I spent five minutes searching in my wagon for nothing, and you didn’t tell me?”
Hesitation flitted across his brow. “I thought you needed some space.”
Which she did, but being read so easily disagreed with her. She wasn’t meant to be transparent, or predictable in the slightest; she was the Mistress of Illusion, the Matron of the Mystical, the Great and Powerful Trixie! But given how long they’d been travelling together, she supposed some of her mystique would inevitably wear off.
Sunburst glanced away and cleared his throat again. “Do you still need some?”
“…No,” she ruefully admitted, frowning at her hooves as she dragged them toward the warmth of the fire, then flopped onto her rump. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Gee, I wonder why.” It slipped out of her like a reflex, and she yanked on an invisible chain around her neck, squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip. “Sorry. I… know you mean well. But it doesn’t help when everything you say sounds like you’re trying to undermine me.”
Sunbrist blinked. “You think so?”
“I know so. I still remember what you said the first night on this odyssey of ours: if I was sure the flint and steel would last. Of course it would, if we’d stuck to the plan instead of wandering off wherever you felt like on any given day!”
He blinked again, then furrowed his brows and cocked his head. “You could’ve just said no.”
“But then I wouldn’t be a good friend to you and Starlight, would I?” She flung her forehooves into the air. “And all this talk of whether we had enough food and water before we reached the next town. Trixie knows to keep tabs on her supplies; she’s been doing this kind of thing for years! Far longer than you’ve wanted to step out of your dusty old library.”
“It… doesn’t hurt to double check.” Sunburst shifted the weight on his haunches. “I mean, I thought I was just asking some basic, common sense questions, covering all our bases like any good companion should. None of it was supposed to be personal.”
“Personal?” Trixie baulked, before jabbing a hoof at her breast. “Insisting you teach me about magic is personal, as if I’ve never tried to understand it, or use it. But I do. And I know a lot more about its practical usage than you could ever hope to.”
“I didn’t insist, I offered.” His tone dipped a little, sounding harder, but it was only for a brief moment, before his speech took on a sadder note. “Should I have not?”
There’s a beat. She wasn’t sure what to say, which meant she needed another approach, a different avenue of attack – a way to defend herself. “I am the Great… and Powerful Trixie. Ponies and other creatures come to see my shows because I can entertain. I can do magic. I am just as talented as you, maybe even more so. I do not need you or anypony else barging into my life and telling me I’m wrong.”
“I never said you were.” He sidled a little closer. “And that’s not my intent now either. Never has been. I mean, I’ve seen your shows – seen how you… pull off tricks I could never dream of with spells and magic I’ve never read about. They’re just illusions, sure, but that’s not something that gets written down, that’s not what scholars and arcane mystics compose their diatribes on; it’s… something you have to experience. And before this trip, I never even thought about experiencing them. That’s something I have you to thank for.”
Her frown abated, ears splaying and eyes narrowing. “Then why’d you barely mention it?”
Sunburst lets out a guffaw and shakes his head in disbelief. “Seriously? You’re… the Great and Powerful Trixie – of course you didn’t need me telling you. You get those comments every time you perform. You know how good you are at them. You even talk about yourself in third person; that’s not a pony whose ego needs stoking. Besides, I… thought it was obvious how I felt.”
She hesitated. “Felt about what?”
“Well, you. Your confidence, your self-esteem, the way you’re always so sure of yourself and don’t let others push you around. I wish I had that kind of backbone. Heck, you can haggle with a vendor ’til their price is cut in half; that’s not something I could ever do. I wouldn’t have even known he was trying to swindle me if you hadn’t intervened, and that’s just because you’d travelled through his village five times before, whereas I’ve… been stuck at home in the Crystal Empire. Scared to take a single step out my door.”
Trixie found herself somewhat lost for words. She had to have had them somewhere in her Great and Powerful mind, but something about this, about what Sunburst said, refused to let them surface. It roiled within her, tickled her stomach and heart, skittered up and down her ribs like a spider in the rafters, and grew so loud that she had to look away.
“I never thought myself better than you,” Sunburst continued, carefully inching his shadow closer and closer. “I’m sorry if it ever sounded like I did. I’ve only ever wanted us to get along. Find some common ground. And since magical theory is what I know, as well as how to apply it, I thought… maybe that’d be a nice place to start. We could cover transfiguration again, like you did with Starlight, and then see where we can go from there.”
Like she did with Starlight. She hadn’t known he knew about that, those private sessions to hone her skills, flex her thaumatic muscles – and for him to remember after such a long time, without saying anything…
Why? Because she might’ve kicked up a fuss? Because she might’ve accused him of sticking his nose where it didn’t belong? Because she… would likely have done exactly that?
But no. No, there was more. She could feel it. In the air, the earth, the undertones, the deepest reaches of her being, even in the space between them. Something she’d known for a long time, and wasn’t sure she wanted to admit – neither to herself nor anypony else.
“Would that be… something you’d like to do, Trixie?” Sunburst lay a tender hoof on her shoulder. “Or am I being too forward?”
He respected her. At least enough to respect her privacy. To know what he should and shouldn’t reveal. To see past the veil, and never say a word, because a mere whisper might be too much to bear.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” she stiffly answered, and far too quickly. But once she started, she couldn’t muster the strength to stop, only choose her words as best she could. “I don’t… know. And I should. I should know why I’m like this – why everything… is a contest to me, and I’m competing against everypony.”
Sunburst paused, then pulled his hoof from her. It left a hole, growing bigger the longer he was silent, and fear crept inside. At least, until he spoke again. “Competing for what?”
Her ear twitched. It wasn’t a question she’d expected, but neither was she sure what she expected. “I don’t know. Anything. Everything. Mostly… just to be seen, I guess.”
“Seen?” His pitch belied concern, but also a sense of genuine curiosity. “By others?”
After a moment’s hesitation, she gave a small nod. “That’s all that matters, isn’t it? Being seen. Remembered. And if you aren’t putting your best, most spectacular, most memorable hoof forward all the time… how’s anypony supposed to do that?”
“That’s not fair, Trixie. Not on you. And that’s not how ponies work.”
“Isn’t it?” She cocked an eyebrow, absently staring into the fire and beyond. “We remember Celestia. We remember that she’s lived for a thousand years, give or take. We remember what she did, unifying Equestria, defeating Discord, Chrysalis, Tirek, Sombra, Nightmare Moon… turning Twilight into an alicorn. But where are the names of the ponies she ruled over? Where’s their mark in history?”
Sunburst cleared his throat once more. “Well, I’m sure you find a particular individual if you search through Canterlot’s—”
“You know what I mean.” Trixie shot a sidelong frown at him. “And I’m not talking about obscure references in an ancient census; there’ll always be ponies who slip through the cracks, because they didn’t make a big enough splash.”
He paused again, unblinkingly holding her gaze. “And that's what you want to avoid?”
“That’s what… I need to avoid,” she confessed, even as she hated herself for doing so. “I want to know my life has meaning. That I actually matter.”
“But you do matter, don’t you?” He swivelled to face her more squarely. “You have fans, friends, family. Starlight cares about you so much that she’s become your personal coach. And I care about you too, even if I’ve… not been the best at communicating it.”
She felt warmer at the mention of it, appreciative, but couldn’t bring herself to look at him again and shook her head. “I know you do. I’ve… always known. But it’s never enough. It can’t be. For as much as I try – really, really try – to do what I do best, it never feels good enough to last.”
“And what would be enough?”
The question made her mind stumble, as if she’d been hit by a rock; it was a question she’d asked herself once or twice, but never heard from anypony else, and left her just as uncomfortable. “Maybe something… like how you feel?” she said with a weak shrug. “I mean, you’ve never felt the need to brag, to play yourself up or care what others think, so long as you’re happy. And you’re always happy. There’s never a day you’re not taking in stride, where I’m just… scared I’ll be forgotten by the time I leave town. That all my work will be for nothing.”
“…Trixie,” murmured Sunburst, lowering his head to look up at her from behind sympathetic brows, “I don’t know where you got that idea from, but I’m not always happy all the time. This trip… has been the highlight of my life so far, and the happiest I’ve been in years – that’s the truth. Before that, I just kept myself locked in the library reading and rereading book after book after book about all these places that sounded so important, so awe-inspiring, but never had the courage to see them alone. I had so many excuses: distance, expenses, deadlines and obligations.
But to tell you the truth… I was scared. Scared of being irresponsible, or disappointing myself somehow, or that I just wouldn’t know how to take care of myself at some point. That’s who I am, really. And the only reason I’m not like that right now is that I’m living the dream I’ve always wanted to live, thanks to Starlight giving me a push out the door, and you taking me the rest of the way.”
Trixie fell quiet, now completely speechless. An anxious quiver plucked at the nerves around her flank and chest, which her cape thankfully concealed, as another feeling rose within her. She knew what it was, deep down, but refused to let it get the best of her; she wasn’t weak-willed or foolish enough to think that it was genuine. It couldn’t be. Even if it took all her effort to fight the urge to smile.
“And honestly, I’m not sure I want this trip to end,” he continued, softer than before, almost absentmindedly. “I’m afraid I’ll go back to being the pony I was. Isolated. Easily overwhelmed. Scared to take another leap of faith. I wish I could keep doing this forever, because… I’ve enjoyed every second of it.”
A whisper faltered at the back of Trixie’s throat. Her eyes widened in realisation, hesitant to repeat herself – the dreadfully simple fact she’d openly denied time and time again, yet never could escape. She could’ve pretended she’d said nothing, and he would think nothing of it, but that feeling within her refused to be silent, and she likewise refused to stop it.
“I’ve enjoyed this trip too.”
“I’m glad you did.”
She returned to him in moderate surprise, and found his eyes already meeting hers. They weren’t overflowing with sentiment, which she was most certainly, undeniably thankful for, but at the same time… something had changed – gratitude, gratification or some other feeling she couldn’t quite grasp. Something she’d seen before, just not this strong.
Nor had she ever felt so, strangely… open to it.
Distant explosions rang out in the night sky, not unlike the sound of bursting popcorn, and both she and Sunburst perked their ears and whipped about to face them. Fireworks dazzled the darkening atmosphere, sending sparks flying among the stars; brilliant colours and shimmering lights descended in their wake.
More pyrotechnics launched from the nearby town, and another somewhere behind them, beyond the horizon – a coordinated display of solidarity and celebration. But for what, Trixie wondered?
“Huh,” Sunburst mouthed. “It’s Hearth’s Warming.”
Trixie turned to him. “What?”
“Hearth’s Warming.” He turned to her. “That’s how Saddle Arabia celebrates it. They don’t use trees or decorations, because they don’t have the forests or infrastructure; they use fireworks instead, to link each settlement together, and wish each other a prosperous new year.”
No. No, that couldn’t be. Their journey can’t have taken that long, much less gone by so quickly. They’d been on the road for many months, of that there was no doubt, but to reach the end of the year without even realising it? Impossible, surely. Even if she’d lost track of the days whenever they’d entered the desert.
But he had no reason to lie, and never had a problem with keeping his facts straight when talking about the world and its cultures. If he’d been right so far, who’s to say he wasn’t right now as well? Perhaps time had flown while she was having fun, though she’d always refused to admit it.
And it was a strange thought to admit that she’d actually had fun, learning and exploring the hidden wonders of history – a journey she’d never have dared to undertake if not for the stallion beside her. A strange thought, but not unwelcome. One could even say appealing.
Did she want it to end? She didn’t know. Eventually, maybe, as all things do, both good and bad, but not just yet. Not just yet. That’s something she could sympathise with. And for all her bluster about how much he annoyed her, she couldn’t think of a better companion – even Starlight had her faults, despite how strong a friend she was. Sunburst kept it interesting, with just the right kind of repartee.
He was close. Had been from the very beginning. But the proximity now, as fireworks shone overhead and far away, sharpened her emotions to a knife’s edge, sending a tingle down her scalp and back. He was within reach, and tangible, and true; the most genuine pony she ever did meet – the sort of pony she wished to be.
It would be silly, of course, to think they could be more, especially on a night as cliché as this.
But Trixie had always been a mare with high aspirations.
She leaned across and gave his cheek a peck.
Sunburst reacted immediately, his whole body and every hair stiffening, and eyes as wide as dinner plates. He snapped his attention to her after a moment’s delay, watching confusedly and curiously while a sweet little blush flushed his cheeks as well as the bridge of his nose.
It was cute, she had to admit, and before her smile could break out into an anxious giggling fit, she gently pressed her side against his and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Perhaps she’d made a mistake, saw something that wasn’t really there, doomed the rest of this journey to purgatory of an awkward silence, but she had to do it. She had to try. She had to know if he felt the same.
And to her relief, as warmth began to rise in her face and ears, so distinct from the heat of the flames, Sunburst bowed his head and hugged her in turn, humming a gentle sigh.
“Happy Hearth’s Warming to you too.”
