Trixie's Adventures Under Ground

by alki

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, Starlight Glimmer, Adventure, Sex, Crossover, Dark, Alternate Universe, Trixie, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 8120

Trixie falls into Wonderland. The ponies seem familiar, but something is off. Where is Starlight? Trixie goes off in search of her dear best friend.

Trixie was having a picnic on the river bank with her best friend, Starlight Glimmer, when she found herself falling into a mysterious land.  The ponies there are reminiscent of something, but Trixie can’t quite put her hoof on it…

And where was Starlight, anyway?  

Trixie goes searching for her dear friend.  

This story’s a crossover with Black Souls 2, and by extension, Alice in Wonderland.  

It’s also an entry to the “Dumb as Doornails Contest” hosted by daOtterGuy.  

Original cover pic is here, by the original creator of Black Souls 2.  

Published 2024-09-25 16:20:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-09-25 16:20:00 UTC

Preface

Still in the golden afternoon
Though leisurely we glide;
And both our oars, with little skill,
Rowed little legs, with pride,
Like little tails make vain pretence
In wandering, to guide

Glimmer! A foalish story take,
Held with a gentle hoof,
Take it from where Foalhood’s dreams are twined
Gone from Memory’s mystic proof
Like pony’s wither’d wreath of flowers
Impelling dreams of far-off youth

Meet me after days gone by,
Meet me as the sunlight dies;
Ever drifting down the course–
Really, what a silly horse!

parodied of poems “All in the golden afternoon” and “A boat, beneath a summer sky” by Charles Dodgson, a.k.a. Lewis Carroll

Author's Note

Can you hear the gears turning?

Down the Pony-Hole

The golden afternoon light had vanished, and the waves lapping gently at the river’s edge were replaced by walls of packed soil rushing upward. Trixie awoke to find herself falling down a hole in the earth. When she’d tumbled in, who knew? She’d been having a lovely picnic on the riverbank with her best friend Starlight Glimmer, and just managed to open a jar of orange marmalade, when Starlight suddenly vanished from Trixie’s side.

It was a shame, since Starlight had been describing some spell or other to Trixie for some time, and Trixie had meant to start listening as soon as her toast was jammed. As it stood, or fell rather, she’d never have the opportunity to correct whatever rudimentary mistake Starlight was sure to make. Trixie was a master magician, you see, and had even attended a lesson once, before realising it was too elementary for her talents.

All she remembered (the only material that really got up to her level, really) was something about storybooks, and maybe something about enslaving the souls of different authors into a single tormented abomination. It was all similar enough, she supposed, to that difficult book about the caterpillar that couldn’t get enough to eat.

The wind blew past Trixie’s face, and she started to wonder whether or not she was actually going somewhere. Above her lay only a dark tunnel, racing up into the earth. Below her, well, she could actually see it coming up quite fast. And a good thing, too, since updrafts weren’t offering Trixie much in the way of lumbar support. There was a great mass of something liquid at the bottom of the hole, dark red and shiny.

“Trixie wonders what that stuff is,” Trixie spoke aloud, as she was known to do, “and if it will stain Trixie’s cloak. How could Trixie appear in front of an audience with a dirty cloak?” At this, she imagined standing on stage, dripping red liquid in front of a crowd of spectators. Trixie flourished her cape, and a few flecks of the stuff sailed into the first row of the audience. They began to scream, running from the stage in fear, repulsed by Trixie’s utter lack of panache. A few vomited; one mare fainted where she stood.

It would be unbecoming of a showmare, to be sure. Much to Trixie’s chagrin, it was at that moment she splashed into a vast crimson lake.

She flailed her limbs wildly, hooves churning through viscous fluid. It was dark above her; it was dark below her; all around her was thick with something cloyingly sweet. The red seeped through her cloak and stained her coat. It worked its way into her ears and down her nose. Trixie tried to open her eyes, but found them coated in scarlet film.

Eventually, she worked her way up to the surface of the lake, and her head broke water. She gasped for air as her hooves kept her afloat, pumping furiously below the surface. Trixie shook her eyes clear of the red liquid and flicked it out of her ears. All around her was a vast expanse of roiling crimson waves, with no shore in sight and nothing around.

Nothing, that is, except for a small pegasus filly passing by Trixie on the surface of the lake. Her orange wings buzzed behind her, propelling her like a parasprite. Her short-cut purple mane bobbed up and down with the waves as she floated. She wore nothing but a set of striped socks on her hooves. The filly hardly seemed to notice Trixie, motoring steadily along. Trixie was still rather shocked at having been submerged in some mysterious fluid, and didn’t find her voice until the filly was already nearly past her.

“Hey! You there! The gre-”

She coughed up some red liquid.

“The great and powerful Trixie demands y-”

More coughing.

“Demands you come he-”

The orange filly had turned around to observe Trixie coughing and fitfully managing to stay afloat. She didn’t smile, but simply stared at Trixie’s struggling form in the lake. Whether she was interested in helping, or just amused, Trixie couldn’t quite tell. On a normal day, Trixie wouldn’t have stood for the kind of disrespect this filly was showing her. Today, however, Trixie was feeling generous enough to allow herself to be helped by a passer-by. She couldn’t get any coherent words out, but managed to gesture towards herself with a hoof, and the orange filly slowly swam to her.

“What’s that you’re doing, there?”

Trixie gurgled as her muzzle slipped beneath the surface.

“Come on, I can’t hear you like that. Speak up!”

Trixie broke above the waves with a gasp.

“Shore!”

“‘Sure’? Yeah right. I still can’t hear a word out of you. You know, if I were twice as ‘sure’ as you, I’d still be hardly serious.”

Trixie got out another few words, imploring the little orange filly:

“Take me-!”

The filly responded, “Woah, woah, woah. I just saw you come crashing down and now you’re asking me to take you? Isn’t that a bit forward?”

“Forward! Yes!”

The pegasus filly rolled her eyes.

“Fine, I guess. Just so you know, I was going this way anyway. Here, grab on.”

Trixie clung to the filly’s hind leg as they started to cruise along the lake. The last time she’d held a filly like this, during a show, had resulted in a very stern talking-to by a disgruntled parent. She’d only meant to dramatically withdraw a rooster from under the filly’s barrel. Let that be a lesson to anypony who could appreciate the untouched innocence of a young maiden’s heart, and also upper thigh. Trixie could only be grateful that there were currently no responsible adults anywhere in the area.

Eventually, the two reached the bank of the pool, where two more fillies waited, surrounded by a variety of plush animals. They wore matching hospital gowns which were stained towards the hind legs. One was a unicorn, the other an earth pony; they immediately set upon the pegasus the moment she touched shore.

“Took ya long enough! Tweedlebelle and ah got all these here animals rounded up forever ago!”

“Yeah! What were you doing out on the pond, anyway, Chicken?”

The orange filly wiped her hooves on the grass and glared at the unicorn.

“I told you, my name is Dodo! Not Chicken!”

“Seems similar enough ta me. Ain’t they both just flightless birds? ‘Thout any brains, either.”

“Shut it, Tweedlebloom! It was hard enough to get you both out of the mental ward without flight, let alone keeping my head screwed on straight. Anyway, look what I found on the lake!”

“Wow! A new creature for the race! The cocking race!” the little unicorn exclaimed.

“It’s cocktail race, ya dummy. And ah still don’t get why we need to have a race in the first place. Will it really help get our cutie marks?”

“Don’t you remember? It was in the book she showed us before. We just have to do it exactly like in the book!” the pegasus responded.

“I don’t really know if we’re doing it right, though.” The unicorn filly poked a plush rabbit with her hoof, which promptly fell over. “They don’t seem to be in a racing kind of mood.”

“Well, this one I got can breathe, at least.”

“It don’t seem like she’s doing that, either. She ain’t doing a lot of anything, right now.”

Trixie was laying face down in the grass, shivering slightly. Her nostrils were clogged with more of the same viscous red fluid. Her cloak and hat were saturated with the stuff. She looked all the world like the victim of a buffalo stampede.

“She’ll be fine. It’s just jam.”

A stampede of buffalo who were very fond of fruit preserves, in fact.

Trixie’s ears perked up at this, and she lifted her head to face the trio of fillies.

“Jam? So Trixie wasn’t drowning in a nightmarish lake of b-”

“Booze? No, this stuff isn’t fermented yet. That’ll come later. Right now, it’s just the pond.”

“The Pond of Jammy Tears!” the unicorn filly interjected.

Trixie thought this a little absurd, as nopony had any reason to cry yet. Not like that filly with the deliciously smooth flank had. And certainly not like Trixie hadn’t cried when the filly’s father broke down her carriage door after the show.

The fillies soon got to discussing the optimal path for a race-course around the lake. Tweedlebelle started taking bets on which of the stuffed animals would complete it first, and promised to pay them back entirely in pebbles and little bits of straw.

The Dodo objected, on the basis that straw wasn’t nearly durable enough to survive extended circulation in the economy, and that pebbles were the far superior choice of currency. Tweedlebloom responded that, being a renewable resource, straw would serve far better as a fiat medium of exchange. Large quantities of straw, she proposed, could be harvested in order to increase the money supply, and thereby encourage a manufacturing-focused export economy. The Dodo responded that she had something to ‘export’ onto Tweedlebloom right then, and the civil discussion devolved into a series of baseless quibbling.

It was all very circular, and served well to mask Tweedlebelle hoofing bits of straw into a torn seam of a plush cat. Trixie could hardly keep up with the rapid pace at which the fillies seemed to change topic. No wonder they couldn’t agree on anything, Trixie thought. They hardly left enough time to speak the words themselves, much less pay them any mind.

Something the fillies had mentioned earlier, however, had piqued Trixie’s interest. A tiny flicker of light poked at her imagination, like a thorn caught in the supple flesh of her brain.

“You said something about a book ‘she’ showed you? Who’s ‘she’? The great and powerful Trixie wishes to know.”

At the word ‘she’, all three of the fillies had gone pale. Although they had just been raucously debating the merits of government consisting of soviets of stuffed animals, organised into some kind of united republic, they quickly fell silent.

“Uhhh, we ain’t really s’posed to talk about her…”

The pegasus turned sharply towards Tweedlebloom, but her eyes betrayed a deep unease. They seemed to sink into blackness; the fire in them was paper-thin.

“Bloom! Keep it down! Don’t you know she’s always watching…”

Tweedlebelle started to froth at the mouth.

“The book! The book! The filly’s love, unrequited! Fated friends, disunited! Chasing her in a cycle, always seeking, never finding! The pages turn around again! The stage resets, the play begins!”

Trixie was startled at the sudden change of emotion, and stepped back quickly from the little unicorn. She’d begun to expect abrupt mood swings out of the fillies, but there was something distinctly off about this unicorn. Tweedlebelle, for her part, began to shake and collapsed to the ground.

“Aw, now look what you’ve done! Belle’s SEN dropped way too low!”

“It wasn’t me!” Tweedlebloom protested, “It was yer yapping about-”

The Dodo shoved a hoof into the earth pony’s mouth.

“Whatever. Let’s just forget about that and take care of her, now.”

Tweedlebloom spat out the hoof, and nodded. Without a word, both fillies peeled off their clothes and leapt upon Tweedlebelle, who was in the midst of a seizure on the grass. They soon had her soiled gown off, too, and began to kiss her body sensually.

Though the two mad ponies began to moan in pleasure, the sane one hardly seemed to notice. Dodo thrust her tongue deep into Tweedlebelle’s mouth, who continued to dribble foamy saliva down her friend’s chest. Her eyes were rolled back into her head, showing only the bloodshot sclera; her writhing limbs beat against Tweedlebloom’s head, who was straining her muzzle towards Belle’s nether regions.

Trixie quickly turned away from the lewd sight and tried to block the ‘unf’s of young passion from her ears. Trixie was no stranger to a strange sight, being a well-travelled mare in her own right, but this was clearly a little beyond the realm of plausibility.

Just what had come over the unicorn? And the other two, for that matter. The mere mention of ‘her’ had some powerful effect on the fillies’ demeanour, sufficient to drive one of them to sanity. And what a response the other two had! Not even Trixie could derive any voyeuristic pleasure from the sight of it. They were all of them madmares, in some way or another.

It was obvious to Trixie that no more information was to be gleaned from the trio of fillies, and she set off to find answers elsewhere. Answers to what question, she wondered. Surely she’d come here looking for something. Somepony?

Where was Starlight?

Trixie spied a door up ahead, seemingly standing alone in the field. It was the only thing around that she could see. She trotted up to the door, and cracked it open with a hoof. Only darkness lay beyond the threshold.

She was eager to move onwards from the little scene, though. She had the soul of a nomad, and the open road would always call upon her eventually. Was it naturally instilled in her, or was it the product of a lifetime of ostracism?

Before passing through the door, she took a final look behind her, at the fillies convulsing on the shore of the blood-red lake. Their forms were beastly, inequine, and stared after her even in their throes of ecstasy. The heap shuddered; Trixie could hear voiceless words drifting through the aether towards her.

It was nonsensical. Trixie passed through the door, and slammed it shut behind her.

Cat-Mares, Rabbit-Mares

Trixie cantered down a dark hallway with a scowl on her face. It was lined with doors of every colour on every side, even the floor and the ceiling. The door she’d entered through had emerged above a chandelier, which had snagged her magician’s hat as she crashed off its brass frame to the ground below. A lavender-coloured rabbit had been perched on the chandelier and snapped up the hat before Trixie could manage a levitation spell to retrieve it. It leapt off the chandelier and through a low passage by the floor, far too narrow for Trixie to follow. No sooner had Trixie knelt to look into the tunnel had the rabbit again emerged from a door behind her, running horizontally along the wall and immediately disappearing deeper into the labyrinth of gates and shutters.

It was quite the curious place, this little realm she’d found herself in. Every creature Trixie stumbled across seemed to cross her in one way or another, by either the obtuse antagonism of the fillies or the quite straightforward antagonism of the rabbit. Without her hat to warm her head, Trixie found herself feeling quite anaemic.

What was a showmare to do, she wondered. Not even the crowds in Baltimare had been this unwelcoming to her unsolicited performances. Not at first, at least. Some sparks in the wrong pony’s eyes, some swords in the wrong pony’s mouth, and some fireworks in the wrong pony’s munitions plant had worn out Trixie’s welcome in short order. In that case, though, Trixie counselled herself, she could hardly be blamed for overlooking the subtler aspects of local culture. She knew she had an excess of savoir-vivre; it was the city’s fault for not putting up any signs.

At any rate, finding her hat became Trixie’s priority, and she’d followed the rabbit’s path out of one door and into another as it scampered down the hall. Eventually, she lost sight of it and resolved to simply trot until she reached whatever lay at the end of the hall. That way, she could save her energy to properly skin the lavender rabbit when she finally got her hooves on the wretched little vermin.

However, the hallway showed no sign of ending, and the clopping of Trixie’s hooves was starting to grate on her ears. She was nearly ready to give up on her hat, bespoke though it was, and jump through the nearest door, when she heard a rustle above and behind her.

Trixie turned to find an open door in the ceiling, out of which were peering two golden eyes. Strangely, there was no pony’s face to hold them; each twirled around independently in space, unbidden by any master. The left one gyrated in a lazy circle; the right hung low to the ground, before shooting to the side; finally, both settled on Trixie with a quivering flourish. A voice broke the silence.

“хfttw@Ёif·fZ”

“Huh?” Trixie blurted involuntarily.

“жik@b·f@╦w╢@╚bvfo@@сfЁ@uf@iftxK”

Trixie rubbed her ears with a hoof.

“Pardon Trixie, but she can’t quite hear-”

Before she could finish, the yellow eyes swung down from the ceiling towards her. Trixie jumped back in alarm as they halted abruptly four feet above the ground, accompanied by a loud splat against the hard floor.

The eyes leaned in close to Trixie’s face, crossing over each other until the left fixated on Trixie’s right eye and the right on Trixie’s left. There was something in the way that the colours seemed to swirl in place, gently stirred by the haphazard rolling of the eyes, that mesmerised Trixie. Trixie was falling further, deeper into those rich amber pools of sweetest honey.

The space in front of her radiated cold; an otherworldly presence surrounded her with invisible tendrils. They surrounded Trixie, reaching through her ears to probe and prod her brain. The eyes narrowed, reduced to delicate slivers against the dark hallway. Trixie felt something wet, something soft and entrancing press against her lips. She never blinked.

A grey pegasus mare was kissing Trixie deeply, with lots of tongue.

Trixie simply stared at the sight before her in shock. In her flaxen mane, the pegasus wore a novelty cat-eared headband. Around her neck was a thick, metal collar from which hung a single steel chain link. Her tail was distinctly banded down from her dock, though closer inspection revealed this to be a rather slapdash paint job.

The cat-eared mare was still deeply engaged in the kiss and scarcely noticed Trixie’s scrutiny. Her eyelashes fluttered; she uttered a small moan and entwined her tongue more intimately with Trixie’s. Trixie quickly retreated again, and the grey mare crashed forward to the ground. A gossamer strand of their commingled saliva dangled from Trixie’s lip as she gazed down at the lithe form of the stranger’s body.

The pegasus shakily rose to her hooves and beamed at Trixie with a genial smile. Trixie did not reciprocate.

“There you go! Right as lightning, just like me!”

Trixie could hardly believe what she was hearing. Though she’d been frozen in shock since seeing the mysterious pair of eyes, the shame of the encounter began to sink into her brain. Trixie was disgusted; she knew that kisses were a form of greeting in some countries, but the practice offended her conservative Equestrian sensibilities. It was no wonder the ponies in regions like Prance were regarded as unhygienic; such sensual kissing was surely a remarkable vector for the spread of disease.

She continued staring at the pegasus mare as her astonishment morphed into repugnance. Her thoughts raced in a loop, gradually tightening into a central question.

The pegasus mare murmured to Trixie in the meanwhile, unrequited.

“Hey! Are you all right? You’ve got something on your lip there. Hello—oh. Hmm, I wonder if she hasn’t had enough. She might still have a few marbles up there… what did that book say to do, again?”

“Your name.”

“Oh! You’re OK!”

“You kis–, violated Trixie without her permission. The least you could offer is your name.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re all the way here! You know, we’ve hardly got anypony new around here since–”

“Trixie demands you tell her what’s going on! Speak one more ridiculous non sequitur and the great and very powerful Trixie Lulamoon will seal your mouth for good! That’ll teach you to go making sloppy with strangers!”

The blonde mare shrunk sheepishly at this remark. Her head lowered to chest level and her eyes became glued to the floor. The cat ears on her headband slumped over in shame, though interestingly, her pony ears did not.

“I, I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong? I tried to do it just like-”

“Do something wrong!? How dare you make a fool of the great and powerful Trixie this way! Tell me who you are, this instant!”

The mare with the striped tail, who was running out of distinct traits by which to identify her, brightened somewhat. She donned a strained smile and raised her eyes to meet Trixie’s, though she kept her head lowered.

“I’m the Cheshire Mare! My role is to welcome all the newcomers to Wonderland!”

“Wonderland?”

“That’s where we are! A garden, an escapist paradise for little fillies! Longer than it is wide, curved around and wrapped up in knots. A place where dreams come to drink themselves sick, and where true love is always right behind your eyes!”

She muttered softly, almost out of Trixie’s hearing: “Yes, I remembered it all!”

Trixie shuffled her hooves apprehensively at this strange explanation.

“Is this … Wonderland … supposed to be filled with so many crazy ponies?”

“Oh yes, it wouldn’t be Wonderland if it weren’t so. At least, that’s what she told me…”

“Trixie can hardly believe that.”

“It’s true! All who come here are blessed, in some way or another. ‘Touched in the head’ is how some put it. Here, the mad are all quite ordinary and what’s ordinary is all very mad.”

The blond mare’s eyes had swung out in opposite directions by this point, facing the walls at either side.

“I’ll have you know Trixie is a very extraordinary pony, thank you. And entirely well in the head, at that!” Trixie retorted.

“Are you sure?” The Cheshire Mare cocked her head to the side with a blank expression, as if humouring a small foal who was trying to explain why a diet of cupcakes and cola was perfectly healthy.

“Trixie is always sure! She’s the sanest pony around, not that her talents are always appreciated by certain ponies…”

A wink of starlight glimmered in Trixie’s mind, and she rolled her eyes reproachfully.

The Mare responded, “But the sane ponies go mad especially quickly, and the ones who go sane are brought back sooner or later, anyway. Even I’m not the most regular pony around.”

Trixie mumbled, “Trixie can see that.”

The Cheshire Mare had recovered from her earlier embarrassment and stared amicably at Trixie. Her glowing cheeks carried no trace of the passion which had flushed them earlier, and her supple lips danced over one another in a radiant smile. Trixie found it quite irritating.

“Aren’t you going to say anything else? Ask me where I’m going?”

“Oh! Right! Where do you want to go? Visitors usually like to visit the Pond of Jammy Tears, right down that way!”

She pointed further down the hallway, opposite the direction from which Trixie had come. Trixie shuddered slightly.

“No, thank you! Trixie has had enough jam to last a lifetime. Even if it were all she had to live on, she wouldn’t keep a jar of the stuff in her wagon.”

“You’ve already been? That’s funny, I didn’t see you come in.”

“What? That is where Trixie came in. How in Equestria do you expect ponies to find their way around if their first greeting is a deluge of jam?”

“Um, I don’t know, I guess. And anyway, that’s not the normal entrance. Most ponies come in through here.”

Without the Cheshire Mare moving a muscle, a door on the ceiling behind her swung down into the hall. A large pile of sticks and dry leaves fell through the door frame unceremoniously. They were immediately followed by a large unicorn stallion, clad mane to tail in shining armour, who collapsed on the heap with a clatter. His face was hidden by a visor through which heavy, coarse breathing could be heard.

Trixie was getting accustomed to these kinds of bizarre events, so she only started back slightly while raising a hoof in mild alarm. This new pony was likely to be just as insane as the others she’d met, but she was getting along well enough so far. What was the worst that the stallion could throw at her?

“FLURRRRRRRRYYYYYY!” the armoured pony bellowed.

Perhaps Trixie had been too hasty to assume the stallion would be as crazy as any of the others. The other denizens of Wonderland she’d come across had at least retained some semblance of manners. If this pony were in the audience of one of her shows, she’d have no qualms teleporting him away immediately. The Cheshire Mare, on the other hoof, simply turned around and met him with a cordial smile.

“Hello there! Where are you going in such a hurry?”

Her cat ears perked up, and she raised her tail in careless, welcoming pleasure. From where Trixie stood, it was a severely revealing gesture.

“Huh? I’m going to Flurry. Where is she?”

His voice now emerged hoarse and low, as though he’d run a marathon screaming all the while. That was slightly too troubling for Trixie to believe; nonetheless, he panted dryly atop the mound of detritus.

“Flurry? That little filly came by this way earlier. I don’t know where she was going, though. You might find her if you go through here,”

A door opened to their left.

“– but you’ll get somewhere eventually no matter which way you go. It’s all wrapped up in loops anyhow.”

Her eyes spun against each other in their sockets, little topaz marbles that seemed ready to fall out of the mare’s head. The stallion leered in her direction from beneath his visor.

“Flurry…” the armoured pony mumbled.

“Flurryflurryflurryflurryflurry…”

He turned to depart through the door. His matted tail flicked some leaves in the air. A draught washed over Trixie, thick with the essence of long-dried fluids. Trixie allowed the odour to enter her snout and waft up toward her brain; the inside of that suit of armour must have been revolting.

“Wait!” Trixie interjected. “Before you go, would you mind telling Trixie your name?”

The stallion paused, a forehoof raised.

“My name? My name… I think it was …‘Glum’? Or ‘Carol’. Or ‘Cantersen’...”

He trailed off idly, but his demeanour had changed. He stood up straighter; the frantic tone in his voice was soothed. It was as though he’d gained a measure of lucidity at being forced to recognise his own identity. The Cheshire Mare sniggered softly; the barest hint of concern passed through her eyes.

At the chuckle, the stallion, whom Trixie elected to refer to thereon as “Glum”, folded his ears back sharply. He bounded forward through the door as though a spur had pierced through his armour plates. The door snapped shut the moment the last hair of his tail passed the threshold.

The departure of yet another unhelpful and inscrutable pony wore roughly on Trixie’s nerves. As she stood in that dark and endless tunnel of senseless doors, stinking of jam and the residual stench of the unicorn stallion, facing that dimwitted pegasus with her stupid cat ears, Trixie started to rant.

“Well that’s just perfect! A perfectly good outing, ruined by weird tunnels, and lakes of jam, and hat-stealing rabbits, and all the ponies in this Celestia-damned place are crazy!”

She didn’t have enough time to continue, however, before another door opened to her right. This was much to the relief of the Cheshire Mare, who didn’t usually have to deal with such mercurial visitors. She sighed in relief, and Trixie in exasperation, as a lavender unicorn emerged from the door frame.

This new pony was a unicorn mare, wearing a pair of lavender rabbit ears on her head. The band was shoved down to her horn, and the tips of the ears hung down nearly in front of her eyes. On the mare’s back, to Trixie’s token surprise, was her magician’s hat. The lavender mare levitated a silver pocket watch a foot before her face; she was totally fixated on it and hardly seemed to notice her company.

“TARDYYYYYYYYYY!” The lavender mare screeched, in a way reminiscent of the armoured stallion.

Trixie was beyond responding, and simply waited for the frenzied lavender unicorn to conclude her rambling.

“I’m tardy! For a meeting with the Princess! Oh, she’s going to be so angry with me! I’ve gotta hurry, hurry to meet the Princess!”

She made to dash off, at which point Trixie held out a hoof. She had a difficult time believing it rationally, but a sneaking suspicion pressed to the front of her mind.

“Halt! Are you the rabbit who stole my hat?”

The Cheshire Mare’s eyes became very cross.

“Ms. Lavender Rabbit, what did she say about doing things by the book?”

At the mention of the mysterious “she”, the Lavender Rabbit cringed. The word seemed to spread through space, passing through walls uninhibited. Faint presences seemed to congregate just behind every door, watching the play intently.

“Oh, hi Cheshire. I didn’t see you there…” the Rabbit’s voice faded to a guilty mumble.

“But you know we shouldn’t be talking about, well, you know.”

The implication was left hanging in the air. Trixie nearly reached out to bat it with a hoof, but stayed herself. The Cheshire Mare remained oblivious to any and all taboos.

“Are you going to give back, uh, Trixie-?”

Trixie nodded dispassionately, briefly meeting Cheshire’s eye.

“Trixie’s hat?”

The Cheshire Mare glared sternly at the Lavender Rabbit, who spread her hooves defiantly.

“Sorry, but the Princess asked me for a saddle! I absolutely need to bring her one, and the only pony around who was wearing one was this blue unicorn!”

She pointed a hoof accusatory at Trixie, who scoffed in indignation.

“Excuse me? That hat is just as much a part of Trixie’s person as the horn on her head. And it’s a performer’s hat, not a saddle. A showmare can’t show her face on stage without one.”

The Lavender Rabbit crumpled to her knees in a heap.

“Oh, I knew it was weird that you were wearing it on your head! None of my books said anything about head-saddles, but since you’re a foreigner, I just assumed-”

“Assumed what?” Trixie asked restrainedly.

“Nothing! It’s just that usually travellers in stories don’t seem to quite understand the customs of new lands, and you seem like you’ve travelled awfully far already. I mean, your hat smelled of jam, but you came from the opposite direction from the pond. The only rational explanation is that you’ve already walked around the entire world. It is, in fact, round, and has been known to be so since antiquity-”

The Rabbit continued to expound upon geometry, geography, geology, and all of the other G-related subjects which Trixie was already familiar with. On the other hoof, the Cheshire Mare seemed to have a difficult time understanding the impromptu lecture. Her tail curled up behind her in the likeness of a question mark.

Trixie actually found this somewhat impressive, and leaned around to stare at the mare’s flank. The Cheshire Mare followed Trixie’s gaze and blushed deeply, before turning to look at her own flank, as though she expected it to have changed from the last time she’d seen it. She reacted with surprise at the sight of her own tail arched in the air; the motion had apparently been unconscious. Her tail quickly dropped, pressed tightly against her rear. Trixie continued to ogle a little longer, ignoring both the mare’s bashful expression and the Lavender Rabbit’s spiel.

The Lavender Rabbit had produced a thick textbook from Trixie’s hat in the meantime and buried her muzzle in it. She was in the middle of detailing astronomical timekeeping methods and paid her audience no notice. Before Trixie realised she might have been acting slightly rude towards both other ponies, the Cheshire Mare made a hasty attempt to change the subject.

“Um, so anyway! Rabbit, if you’re looking for a saddle, why don’t you just go to the Saddler? She’s probably having tea with the March Mare.”

The Lavender Rabbit surfaced from her tome and tried in vain to meet the Cheshire Mare’s eyes as they circled around.

“Of course! You’re exactly right! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. She’s mad, but then all artists are, I suppose. She’s the only one around who knows how to wear a saddle properly, at least.”

At this, she shot Trixie a pointed glare. Trixie responded with one of her own.

“Right. I’ll be off, then. Can’t keep the Princess waiting any longer. I’m already tardy enough as it is.”

And quite hastily, a door on the left side of the hall opened. She leapt through the door, still carrying Trixie’s hat on her back. The echoes of irregular hoofbeats and wet slaps faded into the distance at a rapid pace. Trixie gaped in shock after the Rabbit. Then, her hooves were galvanised, and in a flash she was through the door as well.

The door slammed behind Trixie, almost catching her cloak in the doorjamb. The hall became immediately silent, and the Cheshire Mare was left alone with her thoughts.

It wouldn’t be long now, that was for certain. The actors had moved on; the stage was set to be cleared. The Cheshire Mare settled down to wait for the director, and napped for a while.

An Unprepared Tea Party

Trixie rounded a corner on the tips of her hooves in hot pursuit of the Lavender Rabbit. The tunnels were dark, and the walls and floors and the space in between all blended together into a formless miasma which Trixie raced through. The cries of the Rabbit had long faded into the constant, dull whispers which emanated from every direction. Trixie had only her galloping hoofsteps to keep her company; they beat in perfect concert with her heart as the only measure of the passage of time.

No matter how fast Trixie ran, she didn’t seem to be approaching anywhere at all. It was awfully boring, but at the very least Trixie never seemed to tire, either. Still, she was losing interest in the chase altogether. Her gallop gradually slowed to a canter, then to a trot, and then she finally halted.

There was nothing around Trixie, unfortunately. It was beginning to look like she’d never retrieve her hat from that accursed rabbit. But she paused, because that wasn’t the reason she’d come here in the first place, not at all. Why was Trixie in this dark, empty place, stuck in the interstice between dreams? She was surrounded by the abyss; she stared into it. Awfully dark, with nothing to be seen. A light spell? No use. She was visible herself, the only thing around. Why had she come? There was nothing for her here. She pleaded with still lips, with eyelids shielding the mist within from the mist without. The void nipped at her ear.

She’d come looking for her best friend Starlight Glimmer.

Starlight? Where was Starlight? She could help Trixie. Trixie needed to find Starlight.

Starlight.

The word spread out and came back again, tinged with the colours of a thousand different voices. They crashed against Trixie’s ears. She held as steadfast as a sea cliff, pale as chalk. A little piece of Trixie’s mind clove off the scarp and fell toward the ocean. It crashed into the waves, and when the spray and foam cleared, Trixie could see a small room before her.

It was nearly bare but for a narrow table and a mouse hole in the wall below it. Rabbit prints led from behind Trixie, tracking beneath her hooves and beneath the crossbar of the table’s legs, and disappearing into the mouse hole. A deep part of Trixie’s soul told her with a svelte voice, “Don’t look behind”.

Trixie’s neck was already twisted around nearly backwards, and she reluctantly cranked it around to her fore. The table held a tiny bottle, labelled “Drink Me”. Trixie had seen something like this before, in-

Starlight.

She was so close. Trixie examined the bottle, and saw that it contained a murky, purple fluid. She uncorked it, and sniffed the opening. The potion gave off no aroma, but held a faint magic that resonated with Trixie’s horn. Wanting to waste as little time as possible, Trixie swung the bottle up in her magic and prepared to-

Starlight.

Trixie blinked and sat up from where she’d toppled over on the floor. The potion contained within the bottle had changed in colour from purple to white. Regrettably, the sticky fluid had spilled onto the floor where the bottle had landed. There was about a teaspoon in all, cast about in little white puddles. Trixie leant over and lapped up the fluid like an animal.

Before long, she felt her body start to shrink. Her hooves were the first thing to-

Starlight.

Trixie emerged blinking from the mouse hole into a sunny garden, surrounded by forest. The only sound was the breeze brushing the tips of the trees overhead. Everything was the proper size here, and a long table was arranged in the centre of the clearing. The table was lined with empty chairs, half of which stood before empty place settings. Shining silverware and porcelain dishes dotted the white tablecloth haphazardly, all bereft of any refreshments. The table was decorated with odds and ends: a candelabra here, a vase of roses there, a mirror, a stuffed bear, and about twice as many teacups as were necessary. Not that one could have too many teacups, of course.

Trixie was feeling quite famished after her tribulations, and decided to go sit down for a while. Her hooves were killing her, and a free meal wouldn’t hurt, either. She didn’t see any servant ponies around, but they were surely made aware of her arrival in advance. Such were the perks of being a famous magician. She could imagine them busily working in the kitchen, wherever it must have been, and hurried to take her place at the table.

Trixie clambered into her seat awkwardly. She bumped the table in the process, and her rear hoof caught the tablecloth with a jerk. This caused her glass to pitch over onto the edge of her plate. A large crack spread across each, and Trixie scowled before levitating a new set over from the place next to her. Starlight chuckled from across the table.

“You alright over there?”

Trixie looked up from her plate. Sitting in the chair opposite her, not three feet away, was Starlight Glimmer. She smiled warmly at Trixie, who rolled her eyes in response.

“Trixie has everything under control. This is nothing compared to what Trixie has just been through.”

“I can imagine. I’m just glad to see that my best friend is OK.”

“Of course I, I mean, Trixie is! Why, she’s so great that she hasn’t had to use a bit of magic this whole time.”

Trixie stuck her muzzle up pridefully, but quickly lowered it towards the table. She glanced at Starlight through upturned eyes.

“But, Trixie appreciates your consideration.”

Trixie’s expression softened, and she allowed a weak smile. Starlight’s grin became embarrassed, and she pulled her head back shyly.

“It’s nothing. Sorry if those last few parts seemed a bit rushed. I’m still working, and there are a lot of areas I haven’t fleshed out yet. Just remember that if you’re ever lost, you can call my name anywhere in this land, and I’ll know where to find you.”

The pair gazed into each other’s eyes. Starlight reached her hoof out onto the tablecloth. Trixie kept hers close. Their smiles wavered slightly.

“So, Trixie takes it there aren’t any snacks coming?”

“Oh, right! Can’t have a tea party without snacks, right?”

The table was suddenly set with a plate of tea cakes and shortbread cookies. Each mare had an empty teacup at their place, and an ornate teapot sat between the two. Trixie noticed Starlight’s horn hadn’t lit, but elected not to broach the subject. Best not look a gift horse in the mouth and all.

Starlight took the teapot in her magic and softly poured herself a cup of tea. She took the cup to her lips and eyed it serenely, then took a long, delicate sip. The tea’s smooth aroma wafted over to Trixie, who lifted the teapot in turn. As it was halfway across the table, she took a closer look at the lid, which sat slightly ajar. A rat’s tail propped it up and trailed out of the teapot, and fine rivulets of blood ran a short distance down its exquisitely decorated exterior. Trixie stared for just long enough for Starlight to notice. She followed Trixie’s gaze and settled on the teapot’s lid, whereupon her eyes shot open. Choking on her tea, Starlight sputtered and swallowed. The teapot vanished from Trixie’s magical aura, and Trixie looked at Starlight inquisitively.

“Sorry about that! Like I said, still working some stuff out,” she managed hastily.

Trixie narrowed one eye. Starlight looked down ashamedly, avoiding Trixie’s face.

“I know it’s not perfect yet, but I’m working really hard, honestly. I want this place to be the best it can be. What my best friend deserves. Just give me-”

“Starlight.”

She raised her head and stared fearfully at Trixie. Trixie simply raised a hoof and smirked softly at Starlight.

“To be honest, I don’t quite understand everything that’s going on here. But I trust my best friend. You don’t need to hide anything from me.”

A frown flickered across Starlight's face, but she immediately replaced it with a large, toothy grin. The sunlight seemed to strengthen, as if a cloud had passed by without either of their noticing. The wind in the treetops continued to rush by.

They sat for a while, chatting idly as two friends who had last met too recently, and consequently didn’t have much new to say. Trixie was nibbling on a bit of cake when a breeze rustled her mane, and her ears perked up.

“Say, Starlight, you wouldn’t have happened to see a purple-ish rabbit run by here? She stole Trixie’s hat, and Trixie was trying to catch her when she found herself here.”

Frustration clouded Starlight’s visage.

“Really, none of them stick to their roles! If only they’d follow orders… ah! But your hat, yes, I’ve got it right here.”

She produced Trixie’s hat from beneath the table. Trixie snatched it out of Starlight’s grasp, beaming with joy.

“Trixie’s hat! You got it back for Trixie! She’s so glad you talked some sense into that stupid rabbit!”

Starlight made a strange glance sideways, and spoke through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, I certainly took care of her, all right…”

Trixie was too preoccupied with her hat to care much about any implications. Instead, she simply basked in the joy of a job well done. She hadn’t even realised how much she missed her hat. What a competent, resourceful mare Trixie was!

Glimmer’s sour mood was uplifted by the sight of Trixie sighing happily. She’d turned her head upward and had the hat laying atop her face. Trixie hardly said a word, but prideful giggles emanated through the felt. It made Starlight feel strangely forthcoming.

“You know, Trixie, not even this room is finished yet. I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had the chance to write out a part for the Mad Saddler, or the March Mare for that matter.”

Trixie’s voice slithered out from beneath the hat’s brim.

“The Mad Saddler? Trixie remembers that cat-pony mentioned something about her.”

“Yeah, she’s supposed to be here, but she’s still a few stitches short of a seam. Last time, she tried to sew Cheshire’s ears to her head again, never mind they’re already attached; I haven’t really been able to work it out of her, yet. And don’t get me started on the March Mare! Whenever I get her here, she’ll try to grab the others under the tablecloth, or stick her tongue in their ears, or some other indecent prank. How do you expect me to get things going according to plan like this?”

She slumped down with a huff. Trixie fixed her hat and decided to exercise her great and compassionate heart. Clearly, she saw, nopony was happy being stuck alone in a nonsensical little fantasy-world like this one, but maybe together…

“Anyway, this place isn’t quite ready for you yet, Trixie. It’s not perfect.”

Trixie’s brow furrowed at that. Weren’t they best friends? So what if it wasn’t perfect? And anyway, this place was extremely strange. Trixie knew Starlight well enough that she could get a bit antsy if she was stuck alone for too long. She had experience of her own, from long hours on the road between towns. What Starlight needed right now was her best friend in all of Equestria by her side.

“Don’t be silly, Starlight! This land may be somewhat … fantastic, for Trixie’s preferences, but we’re best friends! We stick together.”

The amicable glow in Starlight’s eyes was gradually being replaced by a cold, electric spark. She shook her head, slowly at first but increasingly violently.

“No, no, no, no! I’ve been trying so hard, and I’m always just this close to getting things right! I’ve been so rushed, and so busy, and had so little time, but I can do it! I promise!”

Trixie thought Starlight could use a friendly hoof to lean on, and maybe a hug. She scooted her chair back and turned from Starlight, setting a hoof on the ground. This only caused greater panic to Starlight in her frenzied state.

“Wait! Don’t leave! You can’t stay! I just, I just need some time!”

Starlight’s magic gripped Trixie in place forcefully. Starlight was an exceedingly powerful mare, and her magical aura was like being entombed in concrete. Trixie could barely breathe, much less speak, and resorted to frantically peering at Starlight from the corner of her eye.

Starlight rose from her chair and thrust her forehooves onto the table, leaning towards Trixie aggressively.

“Don’t worry, Trixie! It’ll all be ready soon! You’ll forget all about this, OK? Just wake up back in Ponyville, and-”

Starlight’s voice caught in her throat. She painted her face with a strained, melancholy grin.

“... And forget all about me, just for the time being. It’s for the best. You’ll see.”

Trixie tried to flail her hooves. She tried to shout, and to yell, and to scream at Starlight to stop. Trixie’s best friend was very powerful, granted, but her mental state had always been more fragile than Trixie’s. If she didn’t release Trixie now, if she sent Trixie away, Starlight might well spiral out of control. And if Trixie forgot all about her best friend, how in Equestria could she help.

It was too late for that. Starlight stepped closer to Trixie. She had a gentle depth to her cheeks that didn’t match the sharpness of her eyes. Starlight delicately lifted a hoof and caressed Trixie’s chin lovingly.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Trixie could only see Starlight. Everything in their periphery faded to a dull grey. The edges of the world blurred inward, until only the two ponies remained. Trixie couldn’t tell if it was her consciousness fading, or if the world itself was growing darker.

Starlight spoke, muffled as if through a veil of water.

“Trixie … I … -ou …”

The only points of colour in the world were the violet fringes of Starlight’s irises.

She closed her eyes, and Trixie did the same. The world between them dimmed to black, and ceased.

Author's Note

Finished at about 4:48 am, 9/25/2024. I'm so tired.