Chapter Two
There was always an eerie quiet after those hailstorms, and the sky was still dark as flurries fluttered out across the cold midday air. Trixie was hunched over, looking into his telescope and scanning the streets of Ponyville from his study’s balcony as he often did--only now he had a purpose in doing so. Spike laid sprawled out on the soft carpeted floor, staring at the ceiling. Faint murmurs of Twilight and Starlight talking down the hall could be heard; it had been a few hours since Trixie’s daily tantrum (which was less severe than usual) and the two mares were probably conversing about something else. Their voices could be heard drifting away down the stairs before Trixie glanced back at the still locked door, then Spike, then returned to his telescope.
“Say, Spike… You’re always down at Rarity’s; have you seen her sister, lately? Spoken to her?” Trixie did his best to sound as if he was just trying to make conversation (which was itself a giveaway to his ulterior motives), and Spike was aloof enough that it seemed to work.
“Sweetie Belle?... Yeah, she was there yesterday... had lunch with us,” Spike said apathetically, never taking his eyes off the ceiling. Normally he’d be more keen to point out Trixie’s sudden interest in his social life, but Spike had been detached for the past couple weeks. What was really strange about the whelp’s behavior was the fact that he had been spending more time with Trixie than with Twilight, lately--and spent a lot of his time alone.
“Oh? Huh… Well, uh… She didn’t happen to mention Scootaloo, did she? How’s Scootaloo doing?” Trixie’s voice gradually rose in pitch as he approached the object of this questioning, poorly belying his hidden agenda.
“She stopped by at the cafe where we were eating lunch… Hurt herself riding her scooter, again--but I guess she was alright,” Spike said, becoming less distant. After a short pause, he propped himself up on his elbows at looked quizzically at the sorcerer. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh? Oh… No reason,” Trixie’s voice was nearly a squeal at this point. He looked back at the dragon, mustering his most apathetic look to convince Spike that he was just making conversation. “Say…” Trixie said, his voice returning to normal, and looked at his desk--laden with disorderly sheets of paper, before peering back into his telescope. “Why don’t you grab the weather service’s schedule off my desk and tell me when these hailstorms will end?”
Spike folded his arms behind his head, still laying on the carpet. “They’re supposed to keep up until Friday, but it’ll start snowing instead of raining tomorrow.” Spike reclined with a self-satisfied look and closed eyes. “Then they’re supposed to start the fair back up and try again. Oh! By the way,” Spike looked back up at the wizard. “I heard Twilight telling Star that she was going to make you go with her to the fair, earlier today.” Spike sat up. “Said something about ‘healing your relationship’ or something girly like that.”
Trixie frowned for a moment before it morphed into a smug smirk as he adjusted his telescope, still surveying Ponyville. “That’s to be expected, but don’t you worry your scaley little head about Twilight and I, my little friend,” Trixie said knowingly, twisting the apparatus’s knobs.
“I wasn’t,” Spike interjected, standing up and walking over to the balcony.
“Good, good…” The wizard grinned. “Because I’ve got the cure for what ails her.” He said, centering his telescope on the Ponyville Schoolhouse.
Meanwhile,
“Maybe something happened with Rarity, and that’s why Spike’s been so distant,” Starlight said, looking over at Twilight as the two trotted into the kitchen for lunch. Twilight paused in contemplation, levitating some knives out of a drawer and over to the marble countertop. Starlight sat down at the kitchen table tucked away in an alcove by the window, and looked over yesterday’s newspaper; the papercolt didn’t deliver today’s.
“No, he would’ve told me--and besides, even if something did happen, he wouldn’t sulk for weeks about it,” Twilight used her magic to transfer a loaf of bread and some vegetarian foodstuffs over to the counter. “And he’s been spending a lot of time by himself, lately.”
“Well… I don’t know much about dragon physiology, but… You know… He is reaching that age, Twilight,” Starlight said, only slightly attempting to convey any kind of comforting tone. Twilight was nonplussed by the statement to begin with, but her expression grew a little anxious as she sliced a head of lettuce. “And you said that he’s been spending more time with Trixie, earlier. Maybe he’s looking for a male role model,” Starlight hypothesized to a pensive Twilight.
“To have Trixie as a role model,” Twilight shuddered at the thought, fumbling around some bottles of sauces and dressing with her hooves before deigning to use her magic instead. “Do you really think that Spike is…” Twilight looked a little anxious, but only for a moment.
Starlight didn’t respond, all of her attention now devoted to the paper. All Twilight could make out on the page was a muddled, achromatic photo of some suited old stallions in a heap.
“I’ll have to write a letter to Ember about that,” Twilight was already feeling more relaxed about Spike, having devised a (albeit cursory and insubstantial) course of action; she slipped some lettuce and cucumbers between slices of bread. The princess walked the two sandwiches over to the table, sitting down in front of Starlight and placing their plates on the glass tabletop. Starlight raised her sandwich to her mouth slowly and took a small bite, now more concerned with the newspaper than Spike’s changing body. “So much for ‘neither snow nor rain’ huh?” Twilight giggled, taking a less modest bite out of her sandwich.
“Hm? Oh, yeah, hehe… Hey, Twilight--who’s ‘Halifax Lulamoon’?” Starlight queried, lowering the paper to find Twilight looking thoughtful as she finished chewing.
“That’s Trixie’s father. And I think it’s one of his brothers’ names, too. Does it say something about him in the paper?” Twilight was getting a little worried.
“It’s just something about another argument in the House of Lords,” Starlight said half-heartedly and bit back into her sandwich.
“Oh… Well, still, I wouldn’t mention it to Trixie,” Twilight knew that Starlight could handle herself around Trixie, but still caught herself giving Starlight advice like that.
“Speaking of Trixie… I know you told me not to ask him about this, so I was wondering if you would tell me about something,” Starlight had sat the paper down and was looking at Twilight as the two finished their lunch. “I’ve been wondering about his name.”
“Oh, you mean the nomenclature? Well, the Lulamoons are one of the older noble houses, and back in the early days of Unicorn civilization naming conventions were-”
“No, I mean his first name: Beatrix.”
If Twilight was worried about Starlight’s first question, she was mortified about this one. “Well… Trixie wouldn’t like us talking about this behind his back… But he wouldn’t like us talking about it in front of him, either,”
“I’m just curious. It’s not like I’m going to go shouting about it from rooftops, you know me better than that,” Starlight implored coolly, trying to downplay her curiosity and soothe Twilight at the same time.
Twilight considered just stopping there, but surrendered to Starlight’s inquisition. “Trixie… Trixie’s mother was a… special kind of mare.” Twilight said with some trepidation, looking at the two entrances to the kitchen. Starlight was hanging on every word. “And after having so many sons, she wanted a daughter.”
There are few words that can describe Starlight’s look upon hearing this. “So she named him that because… She didn’t make him… Did she... Wh-what did she do?” Starlight was slowly starting to lean in with rapt attention.
Twilight bit her lip, looking away with an expression somewhere between guilt and pity. “Well… She would… She’d make him… wear…” she trailed off, shaking her head.
Starlight looked deeply at Twilight, mouth slightly agape. “D-dresses? Make-up? What?” Starlight suggested anxiously, almost smiling. Twilight just stared at her, the princess’s face now expressing more guilt than pity. There was a long pause, then Twilight’s eyes darted down to the table.
“When we were growing up, other colts would make fun of him for it...” Twilight’s expression was now entirely guilty. “It really isn’t right to talk about this.”
“I understand,” Starlight affirmed, slowly grasping the gravity of the talk and relieving Twilight. “I had no idea,” Starlight stood up, taking her plate back and levitating a ewer of lemon water from the refrigerator over to the counter. “So, are you going to try and have Trixie perform his magic act at the fair to raise money?”
“Not if he doesn’t want to--and he won’t, but that’s fine. Like I said, I just want to have a day out with him.” Twilight used her own magic to bring two simple glasses over to Starlight. “It’s been a while since we’ve been out together.”
A few hours later
“I’m just saying, if Twilight’s your mother then that makes me your absentee father,” Trixie joked, sitting at his desk and looking over some reports from the College of Canterlot. These bull sessions with Spike were quickly becoming his favorite part of the day; Twilight would always nag at him when he tried to joke about subjects like, for example, Big Mac’s crossdressing--but Spike thought it was hysterical.
“I barely remember you when I was growing up, and you weren’t even there when I hatched.” Spike said, smirking as he sat in an upholstered chair and reading some book about Unicorn culture from one of Trixie’s bookshelves.
“Oh yeah, here it comes: ‘You were never there for me! How could you walk out on mom like that!?’” Trixie tried his best not to laugh as he imitated a blubbering dragon. “Now tell me about how Twilight had to be your mom and your dad.”
Spike burst into laughter. “Just wait until I’m a famous rapper, then you’ll regret it!”
“Pfft- Ha!” The wizard chuckled, signing his papers and setting them in a tray. He reached down and opened a cabinet built into his desk, producing a bottle of oil. He dabbed a cotton ball from the same cabinet into the slick substance, then around the ring adorning the base of his horn, which drew Spike’s attention.
“So, can you still not cast many of your spells?” Spike queried, genuinely concerned for whatever reason, which took Trixie by surprise.
“Twilight’s allowed me to cast whatever spells I please, but she’ll know if I do. Not only will she know that I’ve cast a spell, but she’ll know what spell I cast. And she always asks me why, where, on what or whom--it’s more trouble than it’s worth. Most of the time, anyway,” Trixie explained, returning the bottle of oil to it’s place and throwing the cotton ball in the trash can next to his desk.
“Couldn’t you just lie to her about why you did it?” Spike countered, surprising Trixie even more; he never thought Spike would suggest something like that.
“I can’t lie to Twilight, Spike. I mean, I’m not physically capable--she can always tell,” Trixie believed this to be ultimately true, but could recall a few times that he did successfully lie to his princess. “Why are you asking?”
“So, like… Hypothetically, if you were to cast an… Invisibility spell, just for example, on somepony--Twilight would know?” Spike queried, even worse than Trixie at hiding his real intentions.
“Yes, she would. Does this have something to do with Rarity, you lascivious little lizard?” Trixie said bluntly, clearly a rhetorical question. Even the self-absorbed magician had started to notice that Spike was devoting more time to his unrequited love. “Because if you think that I’m going to help you lech after a full grown mare, you’re severely overestimating the closeness of our relationship,” Trixie stood up, slid over to his telescope and jerked it up toward the sky, realizing that he had left it fixed on the schoolhouse. “And not just because I think Twilight would find out… You’re too young to go around cavorting with mares old enough to-”
“Fine, fine--okay, sorry Twilight,” Spike slammed the book closed and set it in the chair after he hopped off of it. It only took a moment for their chat to turn into an argument.
Trixie looked back at the dragon with a look of annoyed disbelief and stepped back over to his desk. A month or so ago, it would be unimaginable that Spike would act like this. “You know, Twilight only gets onto you about this because she’s worried about y-”
Spike returned an even more annoyed look of disbelief. “Oh, oh! Now you want to talk about how I should-”
There was a knock at the door, and Trixie and Spike both glanced over before exchanging thoughtful looks with one another. The wizard used his magic to unlock the bolt before chirping with a much more cheerful voice, “Come in!”
Upon entering her wizard’s den, Twilight Sparkle was greeted with the smiling faces of Spike and Trixie. She grinned and trotted over to the balcony, seeming to have not heard the small outburst between the two. “You two look like you’re enjoying eachother’s company,” said Twilight--Trixie and Spike nodding copiously in response. She craned her head down and peered into the eyepiece of the wizard’s telescope. “Ah, I see your telescope is set to the same equatorial coordinates as mine!” She exclaimed cheerfully and trotted over to Trixie. Nuzzling the confused stallion, Twilight sweetly appealed, “So, do you want to go?”
“I, uh… I… Uh…” Trixie stammered as he looked at his mare, then at a bemused Spike, then back at Twilight. “I don’t… I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on--It’ll be fun! It’s the same night the fair opens again, so you and I can spend the entire day together.” Implored Twilight, trying to capture Trixie’s eyes with her own. Normally, Twilight (while very affectionate) wasn’t quite so amorous--but, as the wizard had brought up earlier that day: ever since Twilight became an aunt, she’d been much more attentive to Trixie. At least, it seemed that way to him.
“Y-yeah, okay--sounds like fun!” Trixie was rapidly running down the list of upcoming astrological occurrences in his mind, trying to figure out what was happening in case Twilight put him on the spot. Unfortunately for him, he’d been putting off his duties as court wizard. “It’s a date.”
“I can’t wait,” Twilight kissed him on the cheek and nuzzled him once more before shifting over to Spike, motioning toward the dragon with one wing and toward the door with the other. “Come with me, Spike. I need to have a talk with you.” Apprehension flashed across Spike’s face and Trixie snickered.
“Oooooh,” Trixie mocked the little whelp as he and Twilight left.
“Trixie, you go help Starlight get started with dinner,” Twilight shot back, smirking and taking Spike under one wing. The wizard sat up in consternation. He hated helping with dinner, feeling that it was beneath him. The door closed softly, giving a nearly inaudible tap. Trixie gathered himself and stood up, taking a moment to organize the remaining papers he was looking over before heading down his study’s trapdoor and down the stairs to the base of his tower.
Even when his responsibilities were more pedestrian--back when he, Spike and Twilight were living in the Golden Oaks Library--he usually wouldn’t help prepare dinner. While he’d never admit it, he was just a poor cook. On paper, he should’ve been very good at cooking (seeing as how it’s just a series of chemical reactions); but in practice, he always messed something up. Even before he and Twilight were really romantically involved, she wouldn’t make him cook, usually--only when she was upset with him.
The door to the base of Trixie’s tower swung open and he strode down the hall and into the foyer. He trotted past the main entrance, contemplating he and Twilight’s upcoming date at the fair and still trying to decipher what she was referring to with his telescope. He was surprised she wasn’t more upset about the fair being closed early that day--he recalled something from one of their talks where she mentioned helping organize it; something about getting the fillies and colts in question to do this or that, go here or there--he really didn’t care enough to remember.
Then, just as he was about to enter the kitchen, something by the doors caught his eye. A clipboard with some sort of itinerary was poking out of Twilight’s still frosty travel bag. He trotted over, looking behind to make sure no one was watching. Trixie carefully slid the clipboard out of Twilight’s bag, memorizing it’s location before doing so. He saw a small series of notes Twilight had clipped to the top: correspondence between she and Cheerilee. He flinched hard at some yelling from upstairs, which sounded like Spike, but regained his composure when he realized that he wasn’t found out. He meticulously looked over every note the princess and the teacher had exchanged.
“This is good,” The wizard purred to himself. “I can use this.”