The Great and Powerful Trixie: Live From the Brain-Melting Pod

by Bandy

Rating: teen
Tags: Romance, Trixie, Queen Chrysalis, Sex, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 7970

Great and Powerful Trixie lands the performance opportunity of a lifetime. A kingdom and all its riches are hers. As long as her audience doesn't kill her first.

Great and Powerful Trixie lands the performance opportunity of a lifetime. A kingdom and all its riches are hers - as long as her audience doesn't kill her first.

An entry for the 2024 May Pairings contest.

Published 2024-05-29 23:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-05-29 23:30:01 UTC

Gunpowder Loam Sweat Cyanide

Let's get one thing clear: I am a star.

I am so much of a star that, when a changeling barged into my green room, I didn’t so much as blink. Of course fans are going to seek me out. I’m magnetic. And of course a few of them are going to slip past security. Not everyone can be as good at their jobs as me. And of course those slippery fans are going to find my green room. There’s a big sign on the door with my name on it. This is all simply the natural order of things. Again—I am a star.

“You’re not allowed to be back here,” I said, affecting my stage voice to maximize awe. “I should incinerate you on the spot for your insolence. But the Great and Powerful Trixie appreciates moxie. So I will allow you twenty seconds to bask in my presence before I call security.” I paused. “No touching me. Or yourself.”

The changeling frowned, to the extent that changelings could frown. “Uh, sorry to intrude. You are the Trixie from the posters?”

“The one and only. You have fifteen seconds left, so whatever words of adoration you have in mind, make them quick.”

The changeling dropped to the floor in a bow. A little extreme—but everyone responds to greatness in their own way.

“I come as an emissary of Her Royal Highness, Queen Chrysalis, Eighty Sixth Queen of the Great Northern Horde, Hive of Terror, Night Singers of Suffering, Stealer of Souls, Defiler of All That Ponies Hold Dear.”

Asshole, I thought, who needs that many names? My next thought was, Why don't I have that many names?

“Very illustrious,” I replied. “Creatures from every corner of the globe make pilgrimages to see the Great and Powerful Trixie.”

“I have come seeking an answer.”

“That's good, because whatever your question is—” I flicked my cape so it snapped behind me, as if taken by a heroic wind. “I am the answer.” Again, I paused. “Unless it's like a weird question or something.”

“Outside, the posters advertising your shows—”

“Experiences. Not shows.”

“My apologies. On the posters advertising your experiences, it says, great for private parties.”

“Aah, yes! The Great and Powerful Trixie is available for exclusive appearances at birthdays, weddings, bar mitzvahs, funerals, divorces, and school graduations of every level.”

“This is none of those things. It’s a special request.” From beneath its tucked insectoid wing, the changeling produced a folded scroll. “From the Queen.”

Putting my Great and Powerful fifth grade reading level to work, I skimmed the page. A great deal of flowery writing took up the center—no doubt a confession of unrequited love and admiration for me. At the bottom, there was a line and a large empty space. Instinct took over. I magic’d a marker over to me and signed my signature with a flourish of tiny fireworks.

“There we are,” I said, handing the paper back. “Autographs are thirty five bits. I take cash, card, or PayPony.”

The changeling seemed confused. “Autograph... no, you must not have read it.” It jabbed at the autographed piece of paper like it hadn’t just quintupled in value. “Read. Read.”

“I’m sure writing this was an emotionally resonant experience for your queen, but I assure you the Great and Powerful Trixie reads all her fan mail and will respond in two to six weeks.”

The changeling shoved the paper into my face. “Read.”

“Okay, okay, jeez. Pushy.”

As I scanned the page a second time, I started to pick up on things I hadn’t seen before. Maybe the bug had been onto something after all. This wasn’t a declaration of love, I realized—it was a contract.

“A... formal function, of non-descript nature,” I read aloud. “Is it some changeling holiday?”

“No, no holiday.”

“A celebration?”

“Of sorts.”

“Is it the queen’s birthday?”

“Changelings do not have birthdays. Birthdays serve the interests of individualism.”

A politician, I thought, great. Still, as long as the bug’s money was gold, I could fashion myself the picture of moderate centrism. “Yes,” I agreed noncommittally, “may they rot in hell, the bastards. But if I’m going to do this, I need to know what kind of function it is so I can tailor my act accordingly. If I break out a happy birthday at a funeral show, things could get hairy.” I did something I didn’t normally do and thought about what I had just said. “Does that mean anything to you? Because of the chitin?”

“I understand what you’re trying to say,” the changeling replied. “But for your purposes, you need only know that it is a formal party.” It pointed in the direction of the stage. “The cannons, fireworks, the woowoo. That will do.”

I made a show of gauging my interest. I knew for a fact my entire next week was open—what else is new? Showbiz is murder this time of year—but for the sake of my art and livelihood, I needed to push. “Such a last minute request is doable... for a 12.5% additional fee.”

“Consider it done.”

Success! Fireworks lit the deepest, money-hungry recesses of my mind. “Then I will sign your contract.”

The changeling held up the contract—the one I had already signed a moment ago. “No need. But many thanks. You will deliver yourself to the hive’s doorstep one week from today.”

With a flick of its wrist, it procured a blade from its coat pocket. Changeling chitin was hard, but the insides of the holes in its arms and legs were porous. I understood it as being part of their respiratory system. With a quick downward motion, the changeling sliced the inner edge of a breathing hole. Green ichor dripped onto the page beside my signature, which it then stamped into a hoof-shape.

"The contract is sealed," the changeling said. Its long, serpentine tongue flicked from its mouth. "The Queen is so excited to meet you.”

"The Great and Powerful Trixie is delighted for you." I paused. "And the upfront payment?"

The changeling took out its coinpurse and counted forty five bits. "Half now. Half upon... completion."

"Glorious. Good day." I opened the door and shouted, “Security!”

The undeniable glamor of showbiz came in part from its thrill. The zeal of the fans, the barrel-chested chutzpah of the guards who picked them up bodily and spirited them out of my green room, their cries of confusion and awe—it was all just so intoxicating. As I finished my transition from Trixie the Showmare to Trixie the Showmare in Streetwear, I felt the changeling’s advance jingle in my coinpurse. I wondered then if I was letting myself be taken for a ride. Travel to the northern changeling hive would be expensive. If I wasn’t careful, I would lose what precious profit I had just accrued. But upon further reflection, the thought practically banished itself. For my craft, for my passion, for the ponies whose lives would be dull and miserable without me, I had to persevere. I was, after all, a star.

Sometimes, not even stars are safe from the heebie jeebies.

When I pictured the place I would be performing at in my mind, I pictured something similar to a beehive, minus the bees. I was actually off-base on two accounts, because not only did the hive not look like a hive, but the changelings who greeted me buzzed around like literal bees. No star power in this place whatsoever. I was really gonna have to bring it today.

Several stories down, past a cavernous mess of intertwining tunnels, I arrived at the throne room. When the great black doors opened, a thousand changelings inside stopped what they were doing and dropped to the floor in a unison bow. I loved the attention, of course—attention feeds the soul, my mother said right before she left me at the firehouse doorstep—but my good mood was soured somewhat when I realized they were not actually bowing to me.

There, on the other side of the throne room, resplendent in her onyx battle armor, was the changeling queen Chrysalis.

Seeing her with my own eyes made me understand why the other changelings groveled for her. She was tall. Tall and big in the eyes. She had a look that made it absolutely clear she would feed me to the worms if I failed to entertain her. The look filled me with something I don’t normally feel for anyone except myself: respect.

“Your Eminence!” I proclaimed. “You are honored to be in the presence of the Great and Powerful T—”

Chrysalis held up a hoof in pause. My carefully-constructed pre-show speech came careening to a halt.

Awkward silence filled the room. I noticed that the queen was not actually sitting atop the throne but lounging atop it. Her long, serpentine tongue flicked out. Was she doing that on purpose?

A moment later, a changeling drone appeared with a bowl of popcorn. Chrysalis tossed a kernel into the air and caught it with her tongue.

“Thank you,” the queen said, “you may continue.”

Motioning to my cart, I announced, “The Great and Powerful Trixie needs a minute to stage her act.”

The queen yawned. “I’m a busy mare. You will start now.”

Humble readers, in addition to being a mare of generational talent, I am also a consummate professional. When it comes time to perform, I perform. But I will admit to you now, in confidence (and with the knowledge that I will sue the cape off any two-timing snake who dares libel me by making this information public), that I was a little distracted. The logistics of the show were ass-backwards awful. I had no time to prepare, and the assembled changelings gave me nothing in the way of energy, and the light of my fireworks danced across their unblinking eyes as if they were so many glittering glass marbles, and the noise was so boomy and flush with reverb that I could barely hear myself think. And in addition to all that, I felt like a butterfly pinned to the corkboard by the gaze of the queen. Something about the eyes.

Every tree needs green. Every child needs laughter. And every finale needs applause. The changelings offered none.

To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure how to handle a show without applause. I had never encountered an entire audience so awestruck they couldn’t even clap. There are firsts for everything, I suppose.

“That’s it,” I said, in a tone some might misconstrue as uncertainty but definitely wasn’t. “That’s the end. That’s all.”

To a unit, the drones stood up and filed out of the throne room, leaving me alone with just the queen and her guards. After a moment of consideration, the queen let out an audible hmm.

“Very entertaining,” she said. “It’s good for my drones to watch ponies move around. It’s good for their eyes.”

“I couldn’t agree more. The Great and Powerful Trixie’s show is stimulating like fine literature, but with more explosions.”

The queen laughed, a purring contralto. “More like a cat toy.”

A cat toy. Not the glamorous review I was hoping for. But mockery, even by a queen, can be mentally gymnasticized into success. All press is good press.

“Your highness,” I said, “what about Trixie’s act did you enjoy the most? When I return, I will curate my act to provide the maximum amount of awe and spectacle. And, uh, cat toy movement.”

“That won’t be necessary.” She turned to her guards. “Show her to the pod chamber.”

“The what?”

“Nothing, nothing.” The queen rose. Gods above, she was taller than Celestia. Something more substantial than fireworks pounded in my chest. I knew at that moment I needed her to be on my side. Imagine the patronage. The prestige. The power. Trixie is no wild animal, but she understands power. And this pony—this changeling goddess, had it in spades.

“Your grace!” I called out. “This could only be the beginning! We could enter into an exclusive partnership!” The queen paid me no mind. “Okay, a non-exclusive partnership. You want more scurrying? I can scurry. It would be good for your drones. You said it yourself!”

“That will be all,” she said, in a voice so authoritative it made me want to fall to my knees. But I had to power through. This was the chance of a lifetime. The guards were descending on me, big barrel-chested brick walls of chitin and bad vibes. Before they could lay their hooves on me and throw me out, I went for broke.

“A private showing!” I said. “New tricks nopony or changeling has ever seen before. Displays that would dazzle a queen!”

The queen stopped mid-stride. Her head cocked up, as if sniffing the air. A slow, toothy smirk broke out on her face. “A private showing,” she repeated. “Do you really believe you could show me things I’ve never seen before?”

“Yes! And I’ll do it free of charge.” I cringed as I spoke. Business investment, I thought to myself. Keep it together Trixie. It’s all business.

The queen looked me up and down, the weight of her gaze falling like bolts of magic. “Perhaps you could be of some value. Meet me in my chambers in an hour.” Turning to her guards, she said, “Bring a pod.”

Success! I pumped my fist in the air. “The Great and Powerful Trixie will amaze you! Just wait and see!”

The queen’s laughter poured out like sweet suffocating smoke. “I’m sure you will.”

It wasn't until I walked through the death-black door of queen Chrysalis’ private quarters that I realized my horrible error. I had no second show.

The realization sent a jolt of opportunity (what lesser ponies would call panic) through my heart. I was going to have to wing it for an actual queen. Not a pretty pony princess. Not a queen in name only. A queen. The kind who snapped bones between her teeth for forgetting her title. The kind who took no issue making a disruptive foreigner disappear. Oops.

Before I had time to organize my thoughts, another door opened. In strode the queen, resplendent and deadly.

“Your regency,” I said, bowing just low enough to be respectful without indicating that I was her lesser, “it is your honor to be entertained by the Great and Powerful—”

In a near-perfect echo of earlier, she held up a hoof, and I stopped talking.

“Are you comfortable?” the queen asked.

“Uh. Yes. Quite. Now—”

“Nonsense. You walked all the way to my hive. You must be exhausted.” The queen stepped towards me. She motioned behind her, where a black egg-shaped pod the size of a twin bed was placed against the wall. “Here. Relax.”

The interior lining was glowing green and appeared to pulsate in time with my breathing. I probed the lining with a hoof and felt a brief second of static before the limb went comfortably numb. Interesting, I thought. Definitely not a feature of any couch I’d seen before. Changeling craftsmanship was really a cut above the rest. Such a shame more ponies didn’t put the same care and attention into their talents as I did into mine.

“I can’t do my show sitting down,” I said.

The queen gave me an encouraging and surprisingly firm nudge into the pod. “I don’t want to watch the same show twice,” she said. She turned on her heels and walked over to a desk of blackened driftwood. “My time is valuable, remember?”

“It would be an entirely new show!” I said. Stupid, I thought, big dumb idiot fraud loser mom was right— “An even more spectacular one, with more explosions and fireworks.”

“In this room? We’d both go deaf.”

“Deaf with awe.”

The queen chuckled. “I am going to sit at this desk and plot. And while I do, I want you to sit in that pod and tell me a story until I fall asleep.”

“Fall asleep?”

“Just a nap.” Even though she was facing away from me, I could see her tongue lash against her lips, licking back and forth. “Just talk to your heart’s content. It helps me to unwind.”

“A simple story would not live up to my standard of professionalism,” I protested.

“Does a mare of my renown not deserve to rest among her peers?” Chrysalis asked.

I had no good response to that, for she was utterly and completely correct. The pod seemed to embrace me, almost humming with delight as I sank into it. A fog hit my brain, like a shot of strong cider after not eating for three or four days.

“What kind of story would you like to hear?” I asked.

“Something fantastic,” the queen said.

“Very well.”

And then, dear reader, I wove my tale.

—---

If there is one thing the Great and Powerful Trixie can do almost as well as magic, it’s narrative oration.

I’ve been told on numerous different occasions by numerous different creatures that I have the “gift of yap.” To yap, I was told once, is to speak at length with great authority and greater enthusiasm. I was also told in that same instance that I could, and I quote, “Yap an ursa major into an early hibernation.”

Which was pretty serendipitous, really, because the story I chose to tell queen Chrysalis centered around my first encounter with an ursa major.

I won’t enthrall you with the details—you can buy a ticket to my live show if you’re so inclined. What I found far more interesting was the way Chrysalis watched me as I told my tale. I am a certified expert in gauging crowds, so you know my instincts on this sort of thing are beyond reproach. The queen feigned boredom, glancing at a clock in the corner, playing coy. As I spoke, I felt a warm numbness creeping through my body. When I tried to shake my legs out, I realized they were stuck to the bottom of the pod’s interior like flesh against sticky carriage upholstery.

As time wore on, a serene focus filled my brain. I was in the zone. The story of me defeating the conniving unicorn Sparkling Nightsky, driving off the ursa major, and saving the town of Creatureville seemed to strike a chord with her. I could see in her eyes that she was letting her guard down. Good. I redoubled my intensity, embellishing the truth where I could to make things more exciting for the queen’s pleasure. Time slowed down. My vision narrowed. On I droned. You need this, I thought to myself. This is yours. You are the best ever. Be the best ever.

How I carried on, I honestly could not tell. Just as I was about to deliver the knock-out climax, a beam of light shot through a window slit high on the wall and lanced my eyes. I flinched, pausing mid-sentence. The queen took notice and straightened up.

“It’s morning,” she said.

“Huh. Well, time flies when you’re having the time of your life.”

The queen gave me a puzzled look. Her mouth hung open slightly, her long serpentine tongue coiled around a word but unable to speak it.

“Your life,” I clarified.

That snapped her out of it. “How do you feel?”

“Excited to share my greatness with other greats.”

“No—your body.” The queen motioned to the pod. “What do you feel right now?”

“A little tired, perhaps. Telling great stories takes great energy.”

“You feel... all here? In the head?”

“Lucid as the day my brain finished developing. Which was several years before anyone else in my age bracket, I might add.”

“Hmm. No one’s lasted in the pod this long.”

“I’m sure your other entertainers were doing their best. They simply weren’t me. They can’t help it.”

“So it would seem.” Chrysalis turned to her armoire. Her horn lit up, and several pieces of her regalia floated to her. “Your storytelling was satisfactory,” she said as she dressed. I briefly wondered whether or not I should feel embarrassed to be witnessing this intimate moment. “How does it end?”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie can’t simply tell you how it ends. No magician worth their salt would tell the audience how the trick works.”

The queen’s lips peeled back, showing her pointed teeth. “I could make you.”

“If you insist, I’ll tell you tonight.”

“I could make you tell me now.”

“You could.” I shrugged. “But it wouldn’t be a satisfactory finale.”

For a moment, Chrysalis coiled on her hind legs, readying for a strike. But it never came. Here I was denying a queen’s request, and yet she didn’t lash out at me. Changelings could smell fear, but the Great and Powerful Trixie didn’t know the meaning of the word.

“Very well,” Chrysalis said. “Tomorrow.” The queen finished dressing and turned abruptly. “And if the conclusion isn’t everything and more, you’ll be doing sideshows as the mare who eats through a tube.”

I said nothing, because there was no better way to build tension than a well-placed moment of silence. That was, until, I tried to stand.

“Uh. Your Graciousness? My Great and Powerful rear end seems to have fallen asleep.” I tried to hoist myself over the edge, but my front legs were also fast asleep. “I am not requesting help, per se. But you removing me from this pod would be more efficient for everypony.”

Chrysalis licked her lips, her eyebrows faintly furrowed in deep thought. Then her horn lit up, and I was free.

All great showponies leave the audience wanting more. Emphasis on leave. I made the strategic decision that, despite having only been paid half of what I was owed, it was high time I dgot the hay out of dodge. I gathered up my cart and belongings and made my way to the main entrance. There I was stopped by two unarmed guards. When I tried to walk past them, they stepped in front of me, blocking my escape.

“Make way,” I said. Then, a moment later, “Please.”

“Has the queen given you permission to leave?” asked one of the guards.

“Of course. I’m not an employee. I’m a freelancer.”

They seemed unamused. “No one leaves without the queen’s permission.”

“Are you crazy? I have rights.”

The changeling guards transformed into bears.

I turned on my heels and, gracefully, humbly—maybe the most graceful and humble anypony has ever been—retreated.

That evening, more guards found me in my cart. They seemed to think I was hiding there, when in reality I was simply taking a well-deserved nap after a long day of trying and failing to find a way out of the castle. The security blanket I was wrapped in—not crying in, like some filthy muckrakers might suggest—was simply there because it was cold. Changeling hives don’t have central heating. Duh.

I was brought to the queen’s chambers once again. There I was surprised to see Chrysalis dressed in an even flashier regalia set than the one she’d put on that morning.

“Your resplendency,” I announced, shaking my tail in just such a way to make my cape flow behind me. Dramatic effect. Classic entrance detail. Everybody loves it. “There must be some sort of mistake. Your guards did not allow me to leave this morning.”

“You haven’t finished your story yet,” the queen replied. “Why would you leave?” Without waiting for my reply, she motioned to the pod. “You will continue where you left off.”

“I’m sorry, but how can I agree to that? You’ve kept me here all day, denying me the ability to perform other places, thus stymying my income.” I made a show of stroking my chin. “I’d say another forty five bits is in order. That’s on top of the forty five you still owe me for the completion of my performance yesterday.”

Chrysalis’s lips peeled back in what could generously be called a smile. Instead of sinking her teeth into my neck, however, she went over to her desk. She snapped off a glittering ornamental stone the size of my eye from the side of the desk and tossed it at me. It skittered across the floor and came to rest at my hooves with a clink.

“Emerald from one of our diamond dog mines,” Chrysalis said. “One now. Another when your story is concluded.”

“Consider me sufficiently enticed.” I pocketed the gem and hopped back into the pod, grimacing slightly as the numbing sensation spread through my legs. What was this interior made out of, anyway? In Equestria, I could sue for damages. Out here, who knew what sort of paralegal monarchal mumbo-jumbo passed for law? I got the impression I didn’t want to find out.

As I eased into the last part of my story, an idea started to percolate in the back of my mind. If the queen was this interested in hearing my stories, then there was a real opportunity here to walk out of here with even more precious gems. If I could successfully elide one story into another, I could compel the queen to keep me around for another night. And another. Like Mareabian Nights, minus the misogyny and beheadings!

“And as I drove the celestial dagger into its star heart, the ursa started to float—no, it wasn’t floating, it was falling, as if the sky was the floor and the earth were the heavens. Perhaps its soul would fly up into the ground as its body became one with the stars. Such power that lies beyond our fragile comprehension—but oh! That reminds me of another time the Great and Powerful Trixie conquered another unnatural power beyond mortal comprehension...”

Queen Chrysalis murmured something to herself, but I had already launched into my next story. I dared not stop. My future depended on it.

“...but oh! That reminds me of another time the Great and Powerful Trixie conquered an unnatural power beyond mortal comprehension...”

I couldn’t believe it. The pony was still talking. “Fascinating,” I murmured.

Trixie’s ear twitched, but she didn’t pause. The word fell to the wayside unaddressed, one snowflake in an avalanche. If words were bricks, this Trixie pony could build an empire.

No, my interests lied not with the story but the jester delivering it. I have stolen the energy of an untold number of ponies, and at their hearts they were all fundamentally self obsessed, helplessly inward-looking, taking stock of their emotions and ordering their little lives like foals stacking blocks. Trixie was not unlike other ponies in her attitude. What set her apart was this moment—the words pouring out of her mouth and the pod in which she sat.

The pod was eating her alive. Or, at least, it was supposed to be.

The pod was an ingenious design, a mobile feeding station designed to drain a pony’s love without its operator having to lift a finger. The inner lining numbed the victim, making escape next to impossible. Then a complex series of alchemical reactions sapped the love energy from their bones until their brain was mush and all that was left in the pod was a husk which could be digested into goo and used to shore up the hive’s ever-shifting architecture. My hive wasted nothing. I loved that.

But all this did nothing to help her explain how Trixie was still speaking, let alone sitting upright. No one had ever lasted more than five minutes in the pod. Trixie was going on two consecutive nights. Was the pod simply not strong enough to overpower Trixie’s ego? Impossible. No unicorn is that powerful. And yet...

Gunpowder. Loam. Sweat. Cyanide. These are the smells of the emotion of desire. If Trixie could smell emotions the way a changeling could, she would have smelled these things in the air: gunpowder, loam, sweat, cyanide.

“...and then, in my immense benevolence, seeing the danger other lesser beings may bring to bear if the amulet fell into the wrong hooves, I tasked the village shaman to bury it in the forest, forever sealing it inside the earth. But just as she was about to take the amulet away—” I looked up at the slit windows high above me. “Morning again? Well, look at that.”

This time, I didn’t even have to ask for the queen’s assistance in leaving the chair. As I stretched out my sleepy limbs, she asked me, “What happened to the amulet?”

“A satisfactory ending would take more time than we have at present. I need to rest, and you have a hive to run.”

“But after that—”

“After that...” A flashed a winning smile and even threw in a wink just to seal the deal. “The Great and powerful Trixie can be all yours once again.”

I may not have been allowed to leave the hive, but I had free rein of the interior. I spent the second day wandering aimlessly, imagining the bleak onyx walls repainted soft purple and blue, the egg rooms packed with spinning mobiles of me, the throne room converted into an amphitheater fit for the best performer in all of Equestria.

Whether or not these fantasies were reasonable or not remained to be seen. But I had the queen on some kind of leash. A kingdom was a longshot, but a fat payday? That was right up my wheelhouse.

Night fell, drawing me back to the queen’s chambers. I made myself a spectacle on her bed, an imposing double-king with an elaborate canopy of black and royal purple lace. When the queen arrived, I shot her a sensual smile. She picked me up in her magic and placed me into the pod with surprising gentleness. Despite the shape of her horn and the acid color of its aura, her magic was softer than silk. The energy made my skin tingle.

As the amulet story drew to a close, I shifted into the tale of my gaining influence over the great wizard Starbright Glitter. I was just getting to the really juicy part where I wowed her and Sparkling Nightsky so much they gave me the keys to the city and pledged their undying loyalty to me, when out of nowhere the queen interrupted me.

“You have been here for a number of days.”

I paused. Chrysalis had never spoken during my storytelling before. “Yes. Two is a number, I suppose.”

“You’ve sat in that pod each night and spoken at great lengths.” Her resting frown deepened. “In that time, have you felt... different?”

“Different? Trixie is a night owl. The performer’s life is one of late nights. You get used to it.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean...” The queen tapped her hoof on the floor. “Do you feel any different from your usual self? Any difference at all?”

“Why, no! It is the honor of a lifetime for a royal to experience the Great and Powerful Trixie’s stories. I want this for every king and queen in the world.”

Chrysalis stood suddenly, putting her nose just a hair’s width away from mine. The breath hitched in my throat. I tried to scoot back in the pod, but my legs wouldn’t move, numb as they were from sitting in the same position for so long. Burning charcoal briquettes and blood orange filled my nose.

“Many performers have traveled here seeking my favor,” Chrysalis said. “None have earned it. Not yet.”

“Your hotness—highness... what are you saying?”

Chrysalis pulled away suddenly. I felt myself pulled forward faintly, a beautiful comet snared in the orbit of an equally beautiful star. Not a better-looking star. An equally beautiful star.

“Your powers of sorcery are unmatched. Such power would be unfit gracing the halls of anyone but the most worthy ruler.”

“Wh... what are you saying?”

“Marriage, sorcerer Trixie.”

My vision went green, and it wasn’t the queen’s aura. “Your eminence!” I cried. “A permanent performance residency in your heart!” I forced myself to cry so I had a tear to wipe from my cheek. “You’re the luckiest mare in the whole world.” A sly smile spread across my face. “I didn’t know you had it in you, you sly dog.”

“Changelings are not romantic, the same way ponies are not seasoned.”

“Uh. Okay! Maybe you don’t have it in you after all. Anyway. Let’s get down to brass tacks. Such an offer must come with an impressive dowry.”

“Dowry. Sure. Of sorts. If you accept, all will be made apparent tomorrow.”

“Yes! Yes! A thousand times non-bindingly yes!” I flung myself towards my bride to-be but stopped short. “May I—”

“Briefly, if you so desire. Don’t squeeze too tight. And no kissing.”

I was as rousing a lover as I was a performer. What is romance but a two-pony show? I obliged my queen.

The next day was abuzz—literally. The whole hive vibrated with energy. I threw on my best hat, ironed my cape, put on my showmare’s makeup, and stepped out of my cart to find an army of changeling staff waiting for me.

“That?” a drone asked me, looking perturbed. “Really?”

“What do you mean?” I replied.

The changeling chittered, presumably in disapproval. The horde surrounded me and ferried me off to an auxiliary wing off the throne room, into a room lined with mirrors and makeup tables and bright neutral-colored lights.

“Now,” the changeling said, “you will be dressed.”

“A dress? Like a wedding dress?” I scratched my chin. “I must insist the hat stay on. It’s my signature thing. Other than that, I will oblige.”

“Dress,” the changeling drone replied. “Yes. This way.”

The things that the changeling attendants wheeled out were not, strictly speaking, clothes. As I looked over the thing they were going to strap onto me, I wondered what my title would be when the ceremony was complete and whether or not that title would allow me to punish these drones for what they were doing. Forgive them for they know not what they do, I would not.

The first piece was a heavy coat of chainmail.

“This will not flatter my Great and Powerful hips,” I protested as the drones attempted to smother me with the armor.

“Yes,” the drone replied.

“Why would a queen not want a shapely bride?” Another piece of armor, this one a flexible steel barrel guard, floated my way menacingly. “I thought the point of a wedding was to make the bride look beautiful.”

“Yes.”

“Yes? But... but that’s an Equestrian wedding! Of course! Changeling wedding traditions must vary wildly from our own.”

“Yes. Lift your front leg up.”

A shining silver breastplate floated into place, the straps drawing tight against my shoulders. “Changelings are a warrior culture,” I explained to the drone. “Strength and power are the sources of power here. The queen must want a show of power.” The lightbulb went off. “That’s why I’m being done up like this, isn’t it! The queen doesn’t want a doting ditzy bride. She wants a powerful warrior mage.”

The changeling put its hoof on my jaw and gently turned my head away. “Yes.”

“Well, if her aim is to project strength, your queen couldn’t have picked a better bride. There is no mage more powerful than the Great and Powerful Trixie.” I felt a pinch around my flanks. “Hey now. I’m about to be a married mare.”

The changeling gestured to a dual set of shaped flank guards cast in solid steel. “Yes.”

“I know, I know. The armor could be vital.”

“Yes.” The changeling’s eyes got bigger. It tugged down on the straps with enough force to stagger me. “Yes,” it repeated, rapping its hoof against the armor plate. “Yes.”

The hallway to the throne room was lined with guards in immaculate black onyx armor. I led a train of attendants and mid-level grunts in starched officers’ uniforms to the doors. As they swung open, a wave of noise washed over me. At first I thought it was just the din of conversational buzzing, but a moment later I realized the whole room was singing. Changelings by the thousands packed into the throne room to witness their queen joined in matrimony. Their buzzing resonated in just intonation, sending reverberating waves up my spine. My armor rang like a bell.

There at the throne was the great Queen Chrysalis, resplendent in her battle armor. Accents of navy blue and purple framed her flanks and face.

Not exactly the fairytale wedding I had in my head as a filly, but then again I never really had fairytale wedding fantasies anyway. My fantasies were all performing for screaming, adoring crowds. Which is basically a wedding.

“Approach,” Chrysalis said, voice ringing in the cavernous hall.

I took my time walking down the aisle, savoring the moment, waving to all the assembled drones. Was it bad that I thought they all looked the same? Couldn’t the greatest assemblage of shapeshifters in history have shapeshifted a little personality into their looks? Whatever. This day was about me anyway. Maybe they were doing it on purpose to keep the spotlight on me.

“My subjects,” Chrysalis continued, “we are gathered here today for the ancient rite of changeling marriage. My partner in this coupling is a pony from Equestria. Our union is made in the hope of mutual bonding, symbolic and literal, between her foreign lands and our own. Let the sacrificial union cement this former enemy as a friend of the changelings forever! Feeding the next generation of drones, building the hive up!”

The room burst into furious applause. No one heard me say, “Uh, what did you mean by sacrificial?” They weren’t ignoring me. It was simply too loud, so no one heard me.

“Trixie, Great and Powerful, Sorcerer of Equestria.” The queen’s eyes locked onto mine. Her voice was low and husky, rasping like a time-delay fuse. “You are propositioned by the Queen Chrysalis, Eighty Sixth Queen of the Great Northern Horde, Hive of Terror, Night Singer of Suffering, Stealer of Souls, Defiler of All That Ponies Hold Dear. Do you accept?”

“I do!” I cried, forcing more happy tears just in case there was a camera present. “Trixie accepts in the spirit of mutual gain.” I paused. “And love.” Another pause. “Oh! And I guess it’s my turn! Do you, Queen Chrysalis, take me, the Great and powerful Trixie, to be your lawfully wedded wife, in wealth and in health, splitting all assets cleanly down the middle with no prenuptial restrictions, til death do us part?”

The crowd murmured. I could feel the wind in my proverbial cape dying. Had I been too real? Cried too many happy tears?

Chrysalis silenced them with a glare. “Enough. Let the rite begin.”

The crowd took a step back. The air filled with a buzzing energy, like a storm of locusts driving towards crops.

“Uh, was that not the rite?” I asked. Chrysalis’s horn lit up. “The I-Do’s? All those loving words we just said?” My fur bristled, sensing magic. “Hello?” I gave Chrysalis a help-me look. “Wife?”

Let’s pause here for just a moment, reader.

What I’m going to say next may cast me in a bad light. I just want to get out of the way before I tell this part of the story that in addition to being the greatest showmare of my or any generation, I am one of the greatest fighters in all of Eqeustria. I took down an ursa major. I took down multiple princess and princess-adjacent ponies of equivalent combat strength. I have saved the world more times than a pony can count. What happened to me in that throne room at that moment only happened because of treachery and dirty tactics. Cheap shots. Nothing more.

With that out of the way:

The light at the tip of Chrysalis’ horn intensified until I had to look away. The next instant, something slammed into my side, sending me flying into the throne room doors. The armor plates on my side dented from the impact.

As I staggered to my hooves, I felt an icy chill seep into my bones. A thick green fog of dark magic coalesced around me, invading the space between my fur and my armor, filling my nose and mouth until I choked. Strange voices from other dimensions whispered in my ear. Every hair on my body stood on edge.

Though my ears still rang from the impact, I heard Chrysalis utter a low laugh. “Yessss,” she hissed. “Wife. Witness our union and rejoice.”

Before I could react (which is really saying something, because I have very fast reflexes), Chrysalis snapped her head up. The magical fog flashed into fire.

I flinched, certain I was about to be burnt to a pony crisp. But when a few moments passed and I didn’t die in agony, I opened my eyes to investigate. The fire swirled all around me, but it wasn’t burning me. In fact, it didn’t really feel like much of anything.

“Uh,” I said, which in hindsight was pretty silly of me. That’s probably the least graceful I’ve ever been, and given the circumstances, one could be forgiven for it. Must be forgiven, really. I probably had a concussion. Do great mares get concussions? Probably not. So I guess I wasn’t concussed. I was just trying to make sense of this magic. Anyway, what I said after, “Uh,” was, “Are you trying to kill me?”

Chrysalis let out a hiss.

“You areI” I straightened out my armor and marched up to where Chrysalis stood. “We haven’t even had a chance to get divorced yet! What are you thinking?”

Though the strain of holding such a taxing spell was clearly eating away Chrysalis’ strength, she managed a strained laugh. “Idiot. You come into our lands, prance around in my sacred throne room, boss around my drones—”

“Our drones. We’re married.”

“You know nothing of our culture. Changeling weddings are not formed on love. Changelings don’t produce love. We eat it.”

“That’s hurtful. I think. Unless saying that would be insensitive. Then it’s not hurtful.” I nodded to myself. The Great and Powerful Trixie was no bigot. My wife was a changeling!

“This is the wedding you wanted so badly,” the queen sneered. “I will suck the life force from your frail pony body and use your husk as an incubator for my next brood of eggs. You may fight back if you wish to preserve your honor, but it’s already too late. Lay down and accept your fate, worm.”

“Is that what you’re doing right now?” I raised one eyebrow. “Sucking the life force from my frail, pony body?” I did a single immaculate backflip and struck a pose on landing. “Are you impotent or something? Suck harder, wife.”

Chrysalis let out a roar and poured all her magic into her spell. I lit up my own horn and slammed a bolt of magic into the floor, dislodging three round chunks of obsidian. Chrysalis prepared a shield, but instead of throwing the rocks at her, I threw them up into the air. They hung there for a split second before falling into my waiting hooves. Up they went again, the old practiced routine, the guaranteed way to get a foal’s attention on a street corner, the oldest entertainer’s trick in the book: juggling.

“Are you trying to hurt me?” I said, loud enough for the assembled crowd to hear. “Maybe you’re just taking a really long time because you want to make me suffer. Or maybe you can’t kill me because you love me!”

The crowd gasped. I almost fumbled the obsidian juggling balls. That wasn’t supposed to be a big line, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my time on-stage, it’s that when a crowd reacts, lean into it.

“You must really care for me if you can’t even kill me properly. My little pony brain is too busy getting sucked to death, so maybe I’m missing something.” The crowd was growing restless, breaking formation to whisper amongst themselves. Lean in, lean in, I willed myself. “This is getting kind of hot, actually. If you keep this up I might just kiss you!”

Without breaking her focus on her spell, Chrysalis stormed over to me and put her face right up next to mine. Our muzzles glanced one another just the slightest bit, sending a spark between them.

“You survive the pod,” Chrysalis whispered. “You brush off my magic. What are you?”

“The greatest showmare in the world.”

“Your brain should have been liquid a hundred times over. Tell me how you do it.”

“A good magician never reveals her tricks.”

The queen huffed in frustration. “Take a dive.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Take. A. Dive.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie does not take a dive. What do you think I am, some sort of amateur boxer? I am an artist.”

“You don’t understand.” Chrysalis’s eyes darted to the assembled masses. The noise of their discontentment grew so loud it could be heard over the searing hiss of her spell. “They’re seeing this as weakness. They’re seeing me as weak.”

“Well, if you can’t kill one pony—”

“You’re not a normal pony.”

My heart fluttered. “Thank you.”

“If you don’t take a dive in the next ten seconds, the drones will determine me to be an unfit ruler. They’ll rush the throne and tear me limb from limb.”

“Ooh, that sounds painful. I mean, you did just hit your wife in front of all of them. So.”

“Idiot. They’ll crown you ruler.”

Stars filled my eyes. “Really?”

“No! Well. Yes. But you won’t last a week. They’ll eat you alive. Do you know how many times a week I have to fend off assassins? Or mobs? Can your unicorn magic save you from a million sets of teeth?”

These words demanded consideration. Even as powerful and hot as I was, I couldn’t possibly fend off every single changeling in the entire hive one at a time. I didn’t want the prime of my life to be spent in constant slaughter. I had so many performances left in me!

“Very well,” I said. “We’ll compromise.”

Chrysalis stepped next to me and whispered so only I could hear. “Name it.”

“I want a more traditional marriage. For power.”

“That seems needless.”

“I’ll tell you how I do all my tricks.”

“Be serious.”

I raised my voice. “Is this some friendly magical spell of intimacy and trust? I feel so warm and fuzzy inside! Thank you, dearest wife, for making me feel so loved!”

Chrysalis redoubled her effort to violently suck my soul through my eyeballs. “Stop it.”

“You stop it.” A smirk crossed my face. “I could help you redecorate.”

“We are not equals here.”

“But we would be, if we were married. Which I’m pretty sure you just said we are.”

Chrysalis made a sound like if a cicada was also a serial killer.

“Surely you don’t think this throne room is living up to its potential, do you? The black makes it look so dim and small. More color would really bring out the grandeur. And a stage! We could make the throne removable so I could do my show on the pedestal!”

Chrysalis’s magic started to flicker. I felt the magical pull weaken. Panic flashed in her eyes. Her long serpentine tongue flicked back and forth frantically. “I will not be made subservient.”

“Not subservient! An equal partner in the next great chapter of your life.” I took a step back. “Remember when I said that I was a star? Watch this.”

And then, ladies and gentlecolts, the Great and Powerful Trixie did something she had never done before.

She took a dive.