Twilight Sparkle was officially a hot mess.
Trixie couldn't help but feel petty, and a little bit gross, at feeling so giddy over this. On one hoof, it's about time the perfect, flawless "Princess of Friendship" fumbled. That was great, fantastic even! On the other, she was raised to epitomize friendship, and had failed in ways even Trixie would never expect from her. And that was just sad.
Trixie laughed alongside Starlight, more out of disbelief like her than pure satisfaction. The extent of Twilight's conceited, misguided attempts to "help" Starlight, who'd assured Trixie (oh, and Maud) every step of the way that she "totally got" the upstart's reasoning, made it clear that Glimmy's tolerance for inanity reached Celestia-levels of patience. Why, if Trixie were in her place, she'd tell Twilight exactly how she felt the moment this business started.
Starlight was always too nice for her own good. Too nice to say it directly to a pony's face, of course.
"It's like she wants to baby me, or something!"
Trixie snickered. "So sad! How could somepony so smart forget something so obvious about her friend?"
"Well, she is a bit over-stressed, thanks to me," she excused. Starlight sat back, donning a smirk as she gazed out the darkened, stained glass window of Celestia eating a gooey slice of pizza. "She really is like my father. They'd be a perfect team, her and my dad."
Ugh, no, Trixie thought with a shudder. In her opinion, Firelight was just creepy, though Starlight had been assuring them that he, like Twilight, only wanted to help Starlight and make her happy. While, of course, disregarding who she was, as if they'd never known her for years. However, the one actually affected excused them with all manner of mental gymnastics, and all Trixie could do was swallow it and accept this grown mare's decisions. It was her life, after all: something neither Twilight nor Firelight placed first before their own desire. In this regard, perhaps they were made for each other.
"As in marriage?"
Starlight cringed. "Thanks for burning that in my head, Maud," she said politely, broad grin collapsing, finishing, "but no, that's not what I meant at all."
"Don't fill my head with such notions, then. I'm a hopeless romantic, Starlight."
Now Trixie was the one feeling sick! "Maudileena. Daisy. Pie..."
Starlight's expression curdled like spoiled milk. "Right, forgot about that, to be honest."
"I'm only kidding." From the corner of her eye, the light pink dusting Maud's cheeks implied otherwise, in Trixie's now-disturbed opinion. "Not everyone's brain goes to coupling up every pony who breathes in one another's direction."
"The fact that it does at all..." Trixie shuddered. "Maud, Firelight is twice Twilight's age! There's some things you don't even joke about."
"Yeah, anything related to my old man is off limits, 'kay?"
Trixie bobbed her head. "In-deed! And never joke at Trixie's expense, either. M'kay, Maud? She detests critics of her character."
"Yep," Maud affirmed. Starlight lifted her foreleg, chuckling, and Trixie scowled at the stoic pony beside her. "What?" Maud asked, though she didn't so much as glance. "I can't ever say anything to you, being a veritable lump of celestine and all."
Trixie almost felt fuzzy inside, being complimented by Maud of all ponies! Long ago she was written off as a pony impossible to please, but now it seemed she finally saw Trixie's great worth equating her to a rock named after Celestia herself!
Starlight's laughter speared her very thoughts. "Oh, gosh!" she laughed into both hooves, somehow getting what was a joke.
Trixie flushed, feeling angry as she was offended. "Now whadda ya mean by that, Maudie?" Trixie turned, elbow to her flank.
Maud gazed from the corner of her eye, opened her mouth, but Starlight explained while wiping her eyes, "Trix, it means you're transparent and fragile."
The grey mare gave a nod. "And also blue."
Hooves up, as though that would defend her from Trixie's wrath, Starlight said, "Her joke, not mine!"
Trixie glared between these traitors, wondering what was more detestable: the betrayal of Starlight's guffaws, or Maud's clever mockery, and utter stoicism after the fact, as if this meant nothing to her!
"You both suck!" Trixie plopped down in her seat, hugging herself tight. If only this could squeeze out the bad feelings in her chest.
"Oh, come on, Trix. Take a joke!" She most certainly would not. Starlight leaned forward, brows furrowed in sympathy. "Hey, Maud still complimented you! She called you a gemstone, a-and celestine, you know, is used in fireworks! That's fitting in a good way, isn't it?"
Huh. Well. Trixie felt like she may have overreacted a bit, especially with how pitifully true it all was. "Ah." She released her self-hug. "Since when did you know so much about rocks?"
"They're minerals. Also, hi." Maud waved.
Starlight shrugged, nodding. "Basically, yeah. We've been friends for well-over a year, now."
"One year, eight months, twenty-two days, ten hours, nine minutes, and fifty-seven seconds. Fifty-nine. Ten minutes and-"
"Stop, Maud." Starlight's smirk told of a lack of annoyance.
The mare did so, a slight smirk on her lips.
"So, let me tell you girls about what happened last night. Twilight was staying up, waiting for me..."
Trixie zoned out, Starlight's tiring words becoming white noise as she lifted her glass to her lips. Ice-cold water rushed down her throat, waking her up. After spending time together, Maud's true feelings had ceased being mysterious to Trixie. Now, it was clear that despite what she'd said to Trixie last night, Maud, too, cared more about her friendship with Starlight to let hurt feelings ruin what they'd had. She wasn't trying to contrive a "point" out of their best friend like Twilight had, the running theme of all of Starlight's stories. Though in Trixie's eyes, her averting gaze betrayed a hint of dishonesty in her confession back on the hill.
But whatever. Just so long as she didn't hurt Starlight, there wouldn't be any problem.
What Trixie didn't understand, and probably never would, was how Maud could be the only pony without a clean plate. Or more specifically, her reasoning for it. "I never liked how bland they tasted," claimed the mare who wanted half the toppings to be sandstone of all things.
The crust stacked upon Maud's plate must have occurred before, for Starlight didn't even exchange a puzzled look with Trixie when she sent one her way, shrugging haplessly instead.
That aside, things were going smoothly! Greatly! But most importantly, normally.
Starlight was laughing again, Maud seemed to be... enjoying herself. Maybe. And it was all thanks to Trixie! The greatest and most powerful of friends. If not for her, Maud wouldn't have found them together. If not for her, Starlight would still be a lonely sad-sack wallowing in self-pity. Even if half the conversation was dominated by Starlight's venting, she definitely needed it. And Trixie was more than happy to let her indulge in a little whinging. What were friends for, after all?
Pizza Castle was delicious, though, Trixie can and has made better pizza in her days. The taste of victory probably enhanced it. Trixie had to wonder again: was it concerning how much pleasure she got from being right? That Twilight was a lesser friend for Starlight? Nah, not at all. In fact, had she not latched upon this silver lining like always, all thoughts of Twilight Sparkle and her incompetent lackeys would have surely rendered Trixie an unpleasant grump. All her input would've been much like Starlight's, only dissing the princess, or herself for not being there for her when she should have. And Trixie should have, she should have fought to stay there until Starlight awakened; to Tartarus with her show!
Trixie froze, seizing her train of thought. Breathe, she thought, exhaling, expelling her bitterness. It was especially hard to ignore it with the painfully obvious smiling right in front of her, talking openly, no longer hiding within herself, so unlike the Starlight Glimmer Trixie had come to love.
Helping her was proving to be pathetically easy! How could the "Princess of Friendship" be so thick-headed about her own housemate? Of course Starlight wouldn't want ponies coddling her; she never had. She'd gotten enough of such foalishness to last a lifetime, if the connection Starlight made between Twilight and Firelight was in no way exaggerated. And Starlight was never the type to fluff up reality... like Trixie... so every appalling, embarrassing detail of her foalhood had to have been true. How humiliating and aggravating, to get that from somepony Starlight considered her equal, and wanted the same in turn.
"Trixie."
Like a startled piglet she snorted. "H'what?"
"You weren't listening?" Starlight sighed.
Trixie felt a little bad. "Oops. Was it important?"
"No! No, not... really." Starlight was always clumsy on the recovery. "But would you mind waiting a sec before we leave? Gotta use to the restroom."
She had the weirdest sense of politeness. "You needn't ask us. If you've got to go, then go! We're not your father or anything."
"Right..."
Her bashful smile vanished as Trixie asked, "Shall I follow in case you need any assistance?"
Face flushed, Starlight ducked her head, trotting away. "No. No. A million-and-one times, no," she hissed. The patrons of Pizza Castle, with their already-low standards, didn't even glance in their direction.
Her best friend did have the funniest reactions toward teasing. Trixie was still grinning as she settled into their booth as Maud asked, "Was that necessary?" Even with no emotion, her annoyance was clear as day.
"What did I do?"
"Ridiculed Starlight." A second passed. "In the middle of a busy restaurant."
It did seem a little quieter. "Oh, whatever. Who cares what these random ponies think?"
"Starlight does."
"Well, she ought not to."
Maud looked down on her plate in a way that felt very sad. "What?" Trixie asked. Maud turned to her, head tilted, questioning. "What are you thinking about?"
"Why do you care?" Maud asked, probably "snapping" if she wasn't so shy she came off as golem-like.
"Because I just do, so what's got you in a huff?" Trixie cared for a great many reasons. First and foremost, she was a curious little pony, and Maud fairly mysterious. Weird, but mysterious. That, and they were friends, somehow. So Trixie cared about her feelings by default. But Maud's attitude came off as incredibly snippy, too, and that reminded Trixie of their little reunion on top of the hill.
What was this pony hiding? Maud still hadn't answered the question, probably thinking in that big brain of hers. Planning. Everypony did that, even Starlight to an extent.
"I'm not one to pry into other ponies' business," said Trixie, stretching out, pushing her plate away, "but I have to wonder if you're still, oh, what's the appropriate nomenclature, royally PO'd at Starlight?"
Maud's eyes widened ever so slightly. "So you were listening." Ooh, emphasis. She was absolutely floored by this revelation, wasn't she?
"Trixie never misses a thing." She fluffed her glorious, freshly-pampered mane. It was one of her best traits. Oh, and having impeccable intuition, too.
Then Maud said, "I beg to differ."
"And how's that?" challenged Trixie.
Maud blinked. She had to have been conveying a sense of disbelief. "For starters, I was never mad at Starlight. I was scared."
Clearly.
But Trixie seized a split second, smoothly transitioning into a final flip of the mane. "Oh, details," she grumbled, all a mask for her embarrassment.
Maud grunted in agreement. "'Details.' Like zoning out during Starlight's last story. You're bored."
Ouch. Trixie almost forgot, Maud never pulled her punches. "Well, can you blame me?" she cried, hissing. "She's been going on and on and on and on about her home troubles since we got here! She's angry about this, I get it, but don't tell me you're enthralled by this?"
"I find it concerning. But it's clear you don't care about what she's going through. Good to know how her 'best friend' really feels."
Trixie heard those air quotes! She huffed and puffed, gathering a defense. "Excuse me, Maud," she finally countered, "but whose petty feelings about a mistake almost ruined her friendship with Starlight? Besides Twilight, of course."
Maud only furrowed her brows. Now she really was "royally PO'd."
Trixie winced. "Okay, I'm sorry. That slipped out." Maud said nothing. "I'm stressed, okay! You were too, if I recall correctly."
"But we're old enough to control ourselves. So start exercising that."
Excuse me?! Where in Equestria did this come from?! Trixie breathed deep. "Don't try bringing me down to your level, Maud. You think I don't know what you're doing? You left Starlight yesterday, over an accident. You're no better than Twilight, and now you're making me out to be equally as bad for not being perfect!" The nerve of that "princess," making Starlight feel bad for saving her ungrateful life...
"I'm not telling you to be 'perfect.'"
Trixie wanted to laugh. Of course it wasn't blatant, but the subtext was certainly there. "Pardon me, Maud, but things were going swimmingly until you started attacking my character. So, right back atcha, filly!"
"If I was 'attacking you,'" the cheeky mare even made air quotes, "then I'd first accuse you of being dishonest with Starlight. Which you were, weren't you?"
Obviously! Who wouldn't be in this scenario?! The last thing Starlight needed was more stress and ponies' nonsense piling on her back. And here was Maud, who did just that, and was lording this very transgression over Trixie like her own Equestrian Pink Heart of Courage!
"You think you're so smart!" Trixie sputtered, so angry it was all she could think to say.
"In some ways, yes," Maud said, not missing a beat. "In others, not at all. But I know you'd deny how you felt after the fact, and would rather avoid the blowback reaching Starlight."
Oh, how she felt so high and mighty, this geologist with a doctorate and a high-paying job and a home close to their best friend. Trixie snorted at the pettiness on display. "As if you were any better! Avoiding eye contact every which way?" For everyone knew that was a telltale sign of a dishonest pony. "How about coming in, unannounced, to spew the most inoffensive confrontation possible? Because apparently, this was the crowning confession to end all confessions in your mind! I gotta ask, where was that passion from last night, eh Maud?"
Strong words, to be honest. But Trixie needed to make her point: Maud, too, was not as vocal tonight as she was the day prior when it was just the two of them. She'd softened her words, and that meant she was sparing Starlight's feelings, too. "Face it," she sneered, "you're no better, or worse, than me. You did exactly what I had, so don't go attacking me because you feel bad about yourself."
The earth pony was quiet, gazing down the grey foreleg propping herself up. She was avoiding eye contact again, and she wasn't speaking. This was guilt, then.
Trixie sighed the weight out of her chest. "Okay, I'm sorry," came tumbling out, as did the rest. "We're all stressed and feeling like dirt for one reason or another." Even Twilight. But she... She had no excuse for her behavior! She ought to know better! She ought to know Starlight better! Trixie squeezed her eyes and pursed her lips, preventing further word vomit she'd really regret uttering thoughtlessly. "But there's no reason to latch onto my mistakes and hold them over my head. I care about Starlight a hundred times more than you do, guaranteed. The last thing I'd do is hurt her."
She waited. For anything. Maud held her silence, still.
Just as Trixie was about to ask what her deal was, she heard, "I remember last night, when I came to you." Maud was gazing left, her crust stack having toppled during their argument. "How furious you were at Twilight over a choice Starlight made for herself, asking how she could do that to you."
"Y-yeah?" Trixie looked back toward the bathrooms, but Starlight was nowhere in sight. "And your point is...?"
Maud said each word deliberately. "You're bitter about this, and I doubt you've told as much to Starlight." A force was behind her words, like hate.
Some kind of intent, seemingly directed at Trixie's cowardice. "Well, whadda you know?" she cried. "You really think that's what Starlight needs right now? My insignificant feelings? Please."
A twitch pulled briefly at Maud's features, having been hit in a sore spot. Of course; Trixie forgot about her own bitterness in the moment, having, too, come from a place of neglect. Maud was a much softer pony than most, it turned out; she was more comfortable showing that to Trixie than Starlight, for some confounding reason.
"Well, at least you're not denying it," said the earth pony. Conceal don't feel, eh Maud? "That's a relief." Whether or not this was sarcasm, Maud went right for the throat before Trixie could dwell. "But don't act like you're above anypony else. Even though you are at this moment, that's not what matters right now. You don't matter right now."
"Ex-cuse mwah?" Trixie felt gutted. One minute they were having a real heart to heart, and the next she was trying to knock Trixie down again!
"I mean it," Maud intruded as Trixie's mouth opened. "This isn't about you. It's about Starlight. Act like it, and she won't ever be hurt. Please."
Trixie felt as though Maud was ready to hit her. She'd like to see her try when she's a teacup. "Of course this is about Starlight," Trixie tersely began. "But don't you dare try tearing me down to your level, when at most I've been patting myself on the back for a job well done."
"More like pleasuring yourself on your own delusions."
Trixie's face burst into flames, a smolder rising in her gut. "Who do you think's the reason your little reunion went so well? Huh? Hm?" Trixie laid back, gesturing to herself. To cool down. "This mare. Trixie. She laid down the groundwork of which you walked upon."
Maud blinked, resembling a disinterested foal. "I'm not trying to lessen your accomplishment." She'd spoken deliberately. Surprised, it seemed, if her hooded gaze widening meant anything. Starlight would know. She was great at getting messed-up ponies.
Trixie backed off, figuratively and literally. "I think you are," she said knowingly. "Whether you realize it or not. You can't stand the fact that you were one-upped in some capacity. So you try making it less great and powerful in your eyes... Trust me," she added gently, a familiar weight on her chest, "I know what that's like."
When she looked back to Maud, the earth pony was the spitting image of a hollowed-out pony. Trixie must have hit the nail on the head, and as a result, made Maud feel pretty crummy.
Well, good!
She deserved it... Just as Trixie had, following the Alicorn Amulet affair. "I wasn't a part of this," said Trixie; Maud didn't move, "but I forgive you for leaving Starlight. Everypony deserves a second chance, after all."
Maud blinked, looking up and turning her head right, facing Trixie. "Thanks." A true compliment for her fantastic work? Trixie beamed. "And I'm sorry. I know you'd never intentionally hurt Starlight. Or anypony for that matter, since it's impossible." Trixie registered this, puffed her cheeks and took a deep breath... until Maud's left eye did a slow, squishing blink. Oh, it was a wink! A joke.
Not funny. But Trixie could actually take a little teasing, thank you very much! She shot her a grin before cooling down with a sip of iced water.
"I'm more worried by the possibility. I know Starlight, and I know you. Regardless of whether or not you can leave your feelings unaddressed," Maud continued, and letting that hang, though Trixie was great at ignoring her deepest, darkest feelings, "...you want to be a good friend to Starlight second, and prove you're better than Twilight first. That's the wrong reason to want to help your friend." Maud sat back. "But that's just my opinion. It's not my business to force you. Just know that if things go south, I'll say, 'I told you so.'"
Among other things, Trixie imagined. Insinuating that Trixie would ever cause her best friend any pain was gross, to say the least. "You dare?" she uttered, it was all she could think to say. "You claim to know Trixie, but you've no idea how much she cares about Starlight!"
"You sure about that?" Maud challenged.
"Trixie cares for her far more than one-upping that absolute wastrel of a princess!" The words tasted bitter on her mouth, her chest writhed in protest. Trixie was horrified to feel conflicted with the notion. Why? After all this time, she'd gotten over Twilight, hadn't she?
"To reiterate," she continued, "I, Trixie Lulamoon, couldn't care less about Twilight beyond her pitiful, intrusive, misguided attempts to help Starlight Glimmer!" The fire in her chest continued burning on, and Trixie couldn't stop herself from saying what she had, or would. "'The Princess of Friendship.' Starlight sacrificed her magic for that ungrateful pony, and she's the gall to turn this into Starlight's problem! And make her feel as though she did something wrong. How is that, in any way, okay?!"
Maud took a while to respond, likely for having done this exact thing herself. "It's not. But Twilight can't help how she feels, and Starlight knows that."
"Well, she should help herself. She is a princess, isn't she?"
"Twilight is a pony. Not a construct."
Trixie cocked her head. "A what?"
"An artificial being designed for one, singular task," Maud breathed in, "and a vague sense of life within driving it." A blink. "But that's besides the point."
Oh, the tediousness of talking to Maud sometimes. "What is the point, then?"
"That you need to stop. Acting. Like. You're better." Trixie opened her mouth. "Stop," Maud intruded, forcefully. "Whatever you're feeling here, whatever you're angry about, whether it's toward Twilight or Starlight or both, just let it go."
Trixie veered back, feeling the full force of Maud's social incompetence. "Are you telling me not to care that Twilight's the reason for Starlight's current state?"
"No. Thinking that is proof of how out-of-it you are," Maud asserted. "But leaving it unaddressed is going to come exploding out at some point." That was eye-roll worthy. "Trixie, I'm serious and pleading with you right now: whatever grudge you have with Twilight, it's not worth the energy for you or Starlight. If you want to help her, if you really want to be Starlight's best friend, understand that she's accepted that she wasn't thinking when she made that choice. Let go of your anger."
Ah. So she's assuming Trixie felt this way because of some misguided feeling of betrayal? That Starlight disregarded them all for that ingrate princess, and her stories a testament to the fact that she's blinding herself to this very painful reality?
That she gave up her horn for no reason at all?
Trixie wanted to laugh if Maud's naivety wasn't so bitter-tasting. "Now who's the petty one?" Maud gave no reaction. "Prick your ears up, Maudileena. I'm only telling you this once: Twilight's not a mindless rock subservient, but neither is Trixie. We're grown ponies, so we're responsible for controlling ourselves."
"Surprising, coming from you."
"Yeah, well, things have changed. Trixie isn't going to deny how she feels, but she won't ignore who she is like you. I won't stop feeling how I do, but I'm not so inept that I lack a filter... When the gravity of the situation demands it," she amended quickly, because Trixie, in all honesty, wasn't perfect. At all.
She pushed the notion far out of mind as Maud said, "It's wrong for us to feel this way at all, Trixie. You need to get over it."
So she just had to take Twilight's incompetence at her own job with a dumb smile, a pat on the back, and a 'You're trying your best'? No, thank you. "And I am. I mean, I will! Later. It's not like I'm gonna bring this up to Starlight tonight'r tomorrow or anything. But let's drop this now, okay? We're going in circles and it's making Trixie dizzy!"
Maud said, "Fine." They waited in silence, and Starlight didn't return for another four minutes. Neither of them made mention of her flushed face, nor her apology.
In a world distant and close, within an astral plane mortals were never meant to tread, the screen of mist parted to a world encroached by brittle, wooden fingers, clawing across a midnight-black sky. Directly in the center, huge and glowing white, the moon gazed upon them like the eye of a country-sized beast.
Reeka didn't question what brought her to Flutter Valley, nor where the great pot appeared in place of the Sunstone. She came clutching her oar of a spoon, and began to stir. The amber broth fought her, near-stiffer than stone. Reeka yanked her spoon to and fro, the soup slopping back whenever she would ladle some to surface. She'd long outgrown her eyes, truly, hardly missing them; though she remembered seeing that which was truly before you. The realness of the material world. Now it was all but shapes, sensations, and color provided by moments ago, the now, and visions of a better future.
"fOcUs, DeGeNeRaTe!" snapped Momma.
"yEs, Mo-HyDiA!" sang Reeka.
The broth gurgled and churned, genuinely alive: living to the heartbeat of a land called Equestria, the magic within, and all who were connected with it. The concoction of mud, water, fire and salt, foundations of the world merged with magic, cleared as she stirred, the murk revealing images reeking of sugar, saffron and sulfur. Life: a delightful, horrid paradox of sights and smells.
This ritual, Reeka knew by heart, long before Momma smashed a cast-iron pot upon her dome. "WhAt Do YoU sEe In OuR mIrE?"
"ThE cHeSt-PuFf NoNsEnSe Of InSeCuRe FoAlS." Momma spat into the cauldron, stirring up an odor of decaying flesh, and memories of images happening this very moment, in a pizza parlor in Ponyville. "MaUdILeEnA aNd LuLaMoOn ArGuE iN a PrOvErBiAl MeAsUrInG cOnTeSt. A vEiLeD aTtEmPt To MaKe Up FoR tHeIr FaILiNgS."
Oh, how the downfall will be glorious. "tHeIr FaTeS aRe FoRSeEaBlE, eVeN tO a BLiNd OnE sUcH aS i!" Reeka squealed.
"ThEy diE aLL tHe WhILe," Draggle observed. "RoTtInG oN tHe InSiDe As A cOrPsE oUgHt." She sighed with satisfaction. Reeka continued stirring, chunks of something beginning to tap her spoon, filling the broth's cloudy depths.
"LoOk, DraGgLe," Hydia, the weight of her arm sweeping past, pointed in. "SeE hOw ThE mUrK sHiFtS aLrEaDy? We DoN't NeEd To Do AnYtHiNg BuT wAtCh! ThEy FoRgE ThEiR oWn DeStInY, tHe FoAlS."
Draggle's massively long legs swung past, certainly leaning her face into the gumbo, fool she was. "Ah, DeAr StArLiGhT," she cooed, a muffled, damp smack hinting a heartfelt slap of the breast. "Oh, ShE iS sOoOoO hApPy! LoOk At HoW sHe IgNoRaNtLy EnJoYs HeR fRiEnDs." Draggle spitefully hocked up phlegm, shooting it into the pot with a sharp plop. The mixture boiled, hissing and steaming, the image changing. "i HaTe HeR sO MuCh."
Reeka kept her churning at an even, deliberate pace. "ShE wEaRs HeR mAsK wElL, DrAgGlE, nOtHiNg MoRe!" Momma squealed. "hEr WaLls ArE fOrTiFiEd WiTh A fAlSe SeNsE oF sEcUrItY."
How pitiful. "NaUgHt BuT mUd AnD tWiGs," Reeka hummed, the broth giving just a little. Loosening. Her stirring quickened to a normal pace. "Ah! ThE bRoTh ThInS... uNrEsT aNd UnCeRtAiNtY, sELf-HaTrEd, iT tEllS mE!" She smacked her lips within the confines of the Aehter. "bOiLiNg HoT! dEliCiOuS tUrMoiL fOr Us To PrEy UpOn. TeLL mE, aRe We SeEiNg tHe Ex-CoMmANdEr, Or tWiLigHt AgAiN?"
Momma was silent a moment. "aLL oF tHeM," she uttered on the verge of laughter. "StArLigHt AnD hEr FrIeNds."
"tWiLiGhT aNd HeRs," Draggle intoned.
The unique, powerful signature of Harmony's band aids wafted into the night. "AnD tHoSe DiArCh UpStArTs, ToO," said Reeka.
A particularly powerful odor rose from the mixture. The smell of lavender, and summer nights. The sheer power emanating from their mirror of the world was potent, even as a mere echo. "DeStInY iS uPoN uS," they uttered as one.
How, though, remained to be seen.
"We'vE mUcH wOrK aHeAd," said Momma. "bUt StArLiGhT aWaKeNeD uS fRoM oUr ThOuSaNd-YeAr HiBeRnAtIoN fOr ThIs vErY rEaSoN."
"LaVeNdEr AnD sUmMeR nIgHtS," Draggle breathed. Reeka hummed in delighted agreement. That power they felt in their dreams, the sweet shampoo smell that'd ripped them from their subconscious presence in the world upon Starlight Glimmer's breaching into Flutter Valley, her damned need to break the wheel of fate... it was all for them. Not Twilight Sparkle.
None of this would be possible without her.
"YoU dId ExCeLLeNt WoRk BrEakInG tHe ElEmEnT oF mAgIc, dRagGlE," said Momma. "BuT wE MuSt TaKe It FuRtHeR."
"i'D bE hOnOr-Ed, HyDiA," Draggle gave a bow. "iT wAs FuN. i DiDn'T eXcPeCt HeR tO bE dRiVeN tO dArK mAgIc OuT oF hEaRtBrEaK aNd FeAr. WhAt Of ThE mAgIc oF fRiEnDsHiP?"
The aroma of the gumbo reminded Reeka of Twilight, and showed the princess whispering to the small drake cuddled up beside her, who'd spoken soundlessly as well whenever her lips stopped moving. "ShE fEeLs ThReAtEnEd. PoWeRlEsS." Reeka felt it this very moment, now, as though in bed with them while physically here, in Flutter Valley.
"YeS," hissed Momma. "We sHaLL cApItALiZe WhiLe ThE iRoN iS agLoW aNd BriTtLe."
Draggle hummed like the idiot savant she was. "BuT tHeRe ArE sO mAnY pOnIeS sHoWn tO uS. wHo Do We FoCuS oN?"
Reeka waved a claw, almost faltering in her stirring. "Oh, MoMmA, cAn I gO? pLeAsE?"
The air shoved aside as Momma's claw lashed out, gripping Reeka by the jaw. "mY nAmE," she growled, nails biting into Reeka's gums, "iS HYDIA!" Roaring she tore Reeka's jaw away, the force of it nearly pulling her into the gumbo.
A brief sting lingered where the appendage once hung, long ago broken the last time she forgot the One Rule. "SoRrY, hYdIa," she wept.
Hydia snarled. The spoon was slurped up by the soup. "YoU aRe In LuCk. My InStInCtS tELL mE sO, rEeKa. YeS, yOu WiLL hAvE a PaRt To PlAy, BuT oNlY WhEn ThE tImIng Is iN oUr FaVoR."
"WhAt AbOuT ThE fRiEnDs?" asked Reeka. "SuReLy NoW, tHeY wILL mAkE iT hArDeR tO BrEaK tWiLiGhT aNd StArLiGhT."
"aLL tHe BetTeR. tHeY sHaLL pLaY tHeIr PaRt, aS WiLL wE." As they all always had.
"LoOkS lIkE yOu HaVe YoUr WoRk CuT oUt FoR yA," Draggle teased. Reeka had half a mind to beat her too if Momma didn't terrify her so.
"sHe WiLL sUCcEeD rEgArDlEsS," Hydia snapped. "iT tAkEs LiTtLe To DiSoRiEnT sOmE eMoTiOnAlLy FrAcTuReD pOnIeS, AfTeR aLL. ReEkA! YoUr EfFoRtS WiLL bEgIn tHe EnD fOr StArLiGhT gLiMmEr. ThE oThErS wiLL aChIEvE oUr WiLL, oUr FaTe, OUR FREEDOM," her voice rang in the vastness of Equestria, "bY vIrTuE oF tHeIr oWn NaTuRe. As HaRmOnY iNtEnDed."
Momma hadn't mentioned their jailer since before their hibernation. It was like confirming the truth of their situation she'd spent decades trying to defy.
Reeka would be chilled if possible.
"HoW?" Draggle dared to ask.
Hydia huffed, stirring her claw through the gumbo, her flesh hissing, blistering, and melting like tallow. And in a clear, unfettered vocal, from her own lips, Hydia intoned, "The wolves shall tear Starlight Glimmer to pieces." The soup gulped her arm up the elbow.
"aNd AfTeR tHaT?" Reeka found herself asking.
"After that," Hydia gave a low, horrible chuckle, retrieving her arm, "after that, ThE rEsT WiLL fOllOw."
Hydia held her claw out before her, drippy with crimson-tainted broth. Clutched within, the Sunstone glowed gently, an innocent-looking thing for being the root cause of their suffering.
That night, Flutter Valley stirred with their horrible, distorted cackling.
At last.
The rest will follow at long, long last.
The unfinished future they'd been denied for so many centuries.
The destiny naught but fog, even to them, the parasites of Harmony.
At last, the rest will finally follow.