//------------------------------// // The Village, part two // Story: Hailstorms and Helping Hooves // by Cosmic Dancer //------------------------------// Chapter 3.5         “Cherry pie and a glass of milk,” demanded Trixie, and the waitress waddled off. The ponies of Ponyville were used to Trixie marching around and ordering them to do this or that, even before he held any position of power; what concerned the staff of the diner was that he’d shown up first thing in the morning, sat at the only booth without a window (next to the restroom), and only ordered dessert. Trixie sat there, slouched in his seat, still pouting over what Twilight had said that morning--and in front of Starlight and Spike, as if she was making an example out of him.         If that mare thinks she has any right to talk about my--and it’s only because she’s a princess now, it’s gone to her head--thinks she can talk that way about my mother and… and what she… It wasn’t like… It’s all her fault I even have to think about it right now! I’m beginning to wonder why I’m going through all this trouble in the first place, if she’s going to treat me like that. I never thought-... Hearing that kind of thing can’t be good for Spike.         Trixie had come come to the diner mainly to lay low until it was time to get down to business in town; getting to spite Twilight by breaking his diet was just a bonus. It would be a couple hours until Cheerilee and the students would be out of the schoolhouse for recess, then he would make his move to seize the last missing pieces of this puzzle. He had decided the night before to leave a few hours early. Even something like leaving just in time for recess would give Twilight too much information, Trixie felt, and the alicorn was probably out in town right now--stalking through the streets and just waiting to run into him. Just waiting to ruin all of his careful planning.         And she wouldn’t even realize it. I’m doing all of this for her, and she’ll never realize it. She wouldn’t even understand. Twilight thinks she can talk about… B-but… She doesn’t know the first thing about it. And if… She’ll never understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like.         Trixie sat up and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the cheap table and covering his face with one hoof, enough to hide his eyes but not his quivering lip. He thought he heard somepony in the kitchen having a conversation, and assumed that they were laughing about his pitiful display. Normally, he’d have worked himself up into a lather at the mere thought of it--but he took solace in knowing that this dive was about to go out of business. One of the reasons he had chosen to hide in it was because almost no-one else ever ate there. His understanding of the situation was that there was simply too much competition from Sugarcube Corner for the place to turn a profit. What was really embarrassing was that Sugarcube Corner only served dessert, and still stole the place’s business. Not until he’d actually eaten at the diner did he realize that it’s failure was more probably a result of the sterile white color scheme, and the general malaise produced from sitting in a run-down dive which constantly reminded you that civilization is always in decline.         Trixie’s ruminations on Twilight’s insensitivity and the diner’s state of affairs were cut short by the clanging of porcelain on laminate. He uncovered his red, teary eyes to see a hunk of crusty bread oozing burgundy. The unicorn waitress set down the glass of milk with a thud, chewing gum and looking at her notepad as if there were anypony else to serve.         “Alright, hon. Just holler when you’re ready for the bill,” She said with an unusual twang for a unicorn. Trixie figured that she was probably from one of those backwaters southeast of Canterlot--south of where Starlight grew up with that hack of a court wizard back in the New Crystal Empire. What was his name? Trixie couldn’t remember. The waitress took her eyes off the notepad just long enough to see Trixie looking down at the dessert with wet eyes. “Somethin’ wrong?” she asked sincerely, and with a hint of sympathy. The wizard sniffed and said, “It’s just…” He paused. “The pie is so beautiful that I couldn’t-” The waitress scoffed and turned away, trotting back to the kitchen. Trixie smirked, snickering like colt, and tore into his dessert. --- Rarity’s boutique was always vibrant and lively, no matter how bleak the weather was outside. Twilight sat on an ostentatious chaise lounge in Rarity’s bedroom, the mare herself laying languid on her silk duvet. There was little light shining into the room, partly due to snow having piled up on the boutique’s windows, but mostly because the clouds had drowned the sun in a sea of grey. Rarity had lit some candles, and Twilight was getting a little uncomfortable. Rarity groaned, writhing on her bed and whining intermittently. Twilight had been visiting for only about thirty minutes, most of it over Rarity nursing a sliver of the cherry pie she had bought from the Cakes the other night. Now she was theatrically flailing around on her oversized bed, more out of histrionics than any stomach ache. Twilight had been trying to bring up the topic of Spike’s behavior, but Rarity shut her down at every turn--and now the alicorn was becoming suspicious. “Why did you let me gorge myself? Now look at me!” Rarity whined, still squirming. “If you had some with me like I’d asked you, I wouldn’t have been so nervous--I’m a nervous eater, you know! Look at the state I’m in, oh…” An incredulous Twilight looked at the wriggling unicorn, pursing her lips, “Well… It wouldn’t have felt right. I told you about the diet I’ve put-” “A diet! That’s what I need, now--thanks to you,” Rarity tossed a playful look over to her friend, smirking. Twilight gave a small smile in return, and a short laugh out of consideration. She relaxed herself on the the lounge chair, tactfully asking, “So, are you sure that Spike hasn’t been acting even the slightest bit-” “He doesn’t seem any different to me, Twilight,” Rarity hastily interjected, seeming a little annoyed at being interrogated about Spike for the fourth time in a half-hour. “The poor dear, you’ve probably just let him spend too much time around Trixie. You know how emotional that stallion gets; it’s probably just rubbed off on my poor little Spikey,” Rarity took a moment from reclining to glance over at Twilight, who now had a poorly concealed frown. Rarity rolled her eyes and turned back over. “Well, that’s one theory, Rarity. But your poor little Spikey does act differently around you than he does other ponies,” Twilight didn’t know why she thought speaking to Rarity about this was a good idea; she always took Spike’s side and stood up for him, even on non-contentious issues like this one. “And I don’t know how ‘emotional’ Trixie gets--in fact, he’s only tried to help me with Spi-” “Please, darling, you’re always standing up for that spoiled colt of a stallion. I’ll never understand what you see in him. Even after what he did in Canterlot, you took his side! Unless… He doesn’t force you to do all this for him, does he?” said Rarity, pointedly trying distract Twilight. And, seeing as how Twilight only gasped and stammered angrily in response, it seemed to work. “F-force me to-!? He’d nev-! I-I can’t-! That is not true!” Twilight stuttered, glaring at her exceedingly smug friend for only a few moments before pausing and regaining her composure. “You’ve really disappointed me, Rarity. And what’s saddest about it is that Trixie only has nice things to say about you,” Twilight looked up and away, self-righteously. Rarity, still smiling derisively, mustered all the passive-aggressive venom in her voice and responded, “Only because I’m a unicorn, dear. You know how he’d feel about me if I were an earth pony, or a pegasus, or a don-” “That’s enough! Trixie does not and would not ever discri-” “Well, your Trixie does act differently around you than he does other ponies,” Like a tiger pouncing on it’s prey, Rarity had left Twilight in shock. Only a few moments passed before Twilight could be seen stamping away from the boutique; she didn’t realize until a few minutes later that she’d fallen right into Rarity’s trap, and Twilight’s righteous indignation slowly faded into embarrassment. Not only had Rarity thrown the princess off her trail, she’d also made her look like an imbecile. But, some good did come of this exchange: Twilight was now fairly certain that, whatever was happening with Spike, Rarity had something to do with it. She also felt better about herself for defending Trixie--it made her shame from the debacle at breakfast sting a little less. She had been beating herself up the entire morning over humiliating her special somepony, and in front of everyone. She couldn’t forget the sight of Trixie, just sitting there and looking down while she berated him. He’ll never trust me again, not after I… exposed him like that. And the way he tried to defend his mother, after… I must’ve made him feel like a fool. Twilight was trotting a little more happily a few minutes after her kerfuffle at Rarity’s. She had decided to speak to her friend Fluttershy, this time without any ulterior motive like she tried to with Rarity--but if the issue of Spike’s behavior were to just come up in conversation, that’d be dandy. Along the way, she grinned and nodded to Mrs. Cake, who was helping her husband load what appeared to be boxes of festive foodstuffs onto a freshly-painted cart. Pinkie had told her that they would be opening a new gelateria inside Sugarcube corner, and that it would include sorbet. Twilight was looking forward to taking Trixie there to eat, once it opened. I wonder if Trixie realizes how much better he’s been acting since I put him on his diet. Although, I’m not sure it’s right to say ‘he’s been acting better’, it’s not like he can help it. Maybe ‘feeling better’ would be a better way to put it. --- If Snips and Snails had any social acumen, they’d have hated recess--but their inept blindness to their classmates alienating them had rendered them willing outcasts. They stood there, bumbling by a copse as Cheerilee scolded some fillies in the center of the playground. Normally in the wintertime, Cheerilee would have the schoolponies play inside for recess, but it was especially balmy that day. Snips and Snails were talking about some new overrated musician or an issue of some comic book when they heard a loud thud and some cracking foliage followed by swearing--which ended abruptly. They stepped around the dying bushes to find a heap of gaudy cloth flailing around which eventually revealed itself to be their old ‘friend’ Beatrix Lulamoon, and they were very excited about it. “Ah, my miniscule minions, my gormless goons! Just the two colts I was coming to find,” Trixie scrambled to his hooves, doing his best to appear like a benevolent older brother--but really just looming over the two colts and speaking like a cartoon villain. “Listen, there’s no time to lose admiring me; I have a plan and I need your help.” A few minutes later Trixie was the sole occupant of the Ponyville Schoolhouse, rifling through some file cabinets against the backdrop of screaming from the playground. If Twilight wouldn’t have known, Trixie would’ve just cast an invisibility spell and snuck in without Snips and Snails making fools of themselves--even if it would’ve been much less entertaining. Trixie was here, performing this scholastic espionage to patch the only hole in his plan: he didn’t know where Scootaloo lived. The court wizard could have well just gone down to the town hall and gotten the paperwork, but that would have left a paper trail for Twilight to follow. After only a few moments and flipping through files, thank to Cheerilee’s organizational skills, Trixie had found Scootaloo’s file. His eyes darted out to the playground, hearing the commotion die down, then returned to the documents in the manilla folder. Some light emanated from the tip of his horn--a utility spell, Twilight wouldn’t ask about it--and he flipped through each sheet, searching for an address. Those impudent little creatures, if I get caught in here I’ll--Oh! Here it is! Alright, alright, she lives in the bad part of town, no surprise… No mother, and here it says her father’s name is… Night Rider!? That’s the stupidest- Oh, no, it says Night Glider. Alright, well I suppose I have everything I need to- The ambient noise of fillies and colts conversing was slowly travelling up to the school house’s side entrance, and Trixie fumbled around nervously, juggling the papers back into the folder and tossed it callously into the cabinet. He thought he heard the side door’s handle jiggling as he darted out of the front door. --- “You know how Rarity can be, sometimes, Fluttershy. She doesn’t really feel that way,” Twilight and Fluttershy sat in a cozy little nook where the timid mare usually had her meals, but now it was being used for strategizing Twilight’s campaign on Spike’s odd behavior. “And yes, I am upset about what she said--but again, she didn’t mean it. What concerns me more is what she didn’t say.” Fluttershy, oblivious to the insinuation, sat across from the princess and clasped her mug a little more snugly. “You and the girls always say that ‘Rarity just acts that way, sometimes’, but she’s never said anything like that to me,” If there can exist a look that is both concessive and incredulous, Fluttershy had it. “Are you sure that your concern for Spike isn’t just… affecting your view of your conversation with Rarity? I don’t want to say that you’re paranoid, but-” “Every time I tried to bring up Spike,” Twilight leaned in, tilting her head to accentuate her point non-aggressively. “She would change the subject. And when she finally realized that I wouldn’t leave it alone, she made me leave. What am I supposed to think when I can get anypony to talk to me about Spike, but Rarity won’t say a word-” Twilight suddenly looked a little surprised, shaking her head as she realized how ridiculous she sounded predicating an argument on what someone didn’t say. Fluttershy was leaning back, huddling up in the end of her booth even at Twilight’s relatively gentle tirade. “I’m sorry, Fluttershy. I’m just worried about Spike; I’ve even been reading books on adolescent psychology to try and ascertain why Spike’s been acting this way, and… I’m just worried.” Fluttershy slowly uncoiled and returned to a relatively relaxed position, eyeing her friend a little more sympathetically. “You aren’t afraid that Rarity’s been…” --- The few ponies that knew Trixie intimately were all familiar with his sense of humor, which was primarily composed of cruel schadenfreude, hateful diatribes against other ponies, and insufferable surrealism that only he understood--the latter having led him to ‘hide’ poorly behind dead bushes next to the rundown hovel where Night Glider and his daughter Scootaloo lived. After his bizarre fit of laughter, Trixie realized he had yet to devise any real course of action to take upon arrival at the house (the address, of which, he took from the paperwork he reconnoitered). I could just walk in, he’s probably at work in that... shoe factory or whatever it is… But he might not be, and these types are a violent sort… What was it I used to do when I broke into houses? Oh-well, hm… I’ll think of something to tell her later. Just a minor divination… Trixie’s horn lit up with an electric aura of rose. The ring at the base of his horn emitted a small hum for only the first few moments of the spell, and the wizard shut his eyes. Relatively simple for Trixie, the divination spell ‘Detect Equinoid’ was meant to make readily apparent any equine lifeform in the caster’s immediate spatial cognition. That is to say that Trixie would be able to simply think about the house and know if any living ponies were in it. There weren’t, and Trixie finished weaving the spell. He trotted up to the door and tried to turn the knob magically,  finding it to be locked. Despite fancying himself a great mastermind of complex schemes, Trixie always found himself foiled by such great obstacles as locked doors.         But a sorcerer as wise and studied as Beatrix Lulamoon always had a recourse in the face of this trying circumstance: whenever Trixie had to break out of some fascists’ holding cell, or when he had locked himself out of his cart, the wizard would use another simple spell--the transmutation ’Knock’. In layman’s terms, it unlocked doors. Normally, a pony in his position might do this with some trepidation--knowing that Twilight would certainly ask why such a spell would be cast (and especially after a spell meant to detect life, like the occupants of a house for example). But going into town and having to talk to other ponies was, in Trixie’s eyes, a great struggle--and he felt that he’d gone through too much to give in now. Without a second thought--his horn glowed and the ring hummed, and he was inside the house.         Trixie wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see in the little house. Scratched and punctured drywall, a dirty brown carpet, some-assembly-required furniture, and very few pictures. The pictures were what intrigued him the most, they were all just family photos--and none of them recent--in cheap frames and behind cracked glass. Trixie, in a rare moment of introspection, ruminated on his own childhood. He might’ve had an unhappy upbringing, but at least it was in a spacious, well-decorated abode. This squalid one-story was just depressing, and totally lacking in nuanced decor. But any sympathy or pity Trixie might’ve felt for Scootaloo (or Night Glider, for that matter) quickly morphed into disdain for the bleak existence of those he felt beneath his station. The unicorn stepped over to a lonely table and knocked off the cheap lamp occupying it, then he left the house and forgot about it. --- The Ponyville bowling alley had a much more inviting atmosphere than that bloated cadaver of a diner, but it wasn’t especially lively for this time of day. The only occupants being the owner (tending the bar), Trixie, a nervous Mr. Cake, and some colt cutting class to play the arcade cabinets in the back. The former three were standing at the bar, Trixie taking a break from his solitary lane to condescendingly lecture  the other two about something of no real consequence. That having been said, Trixie thought he was just having a friendly chat. “So then, the question becomes not how to relay the coordinates, but what coordinate system to utilize such as this hypothetical civilization might objectively locate us. The answer, of course, would be transmitting our location using a star-map predicated on the radiation from quasars, as opposed to an equestria-centric system using the celestial equator--but even these quasar-based maps would be rendered obsolete once the supermassive black holes at the-” “Yeah, y-you know--as fascinating as this sounds, I’m going to level with you Mr- uh, Court Wizard Lulamoon,” Mr. Cake glanced back at his half-empty cart of comestibles, nervously trying to extricate himself from the discourse. “I have a lot of deliveries left to make, and I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” said the baker, backing away with a fake smile plastered on his yellow face. Trixie and, surprisingly, the owner both scowled and turned away as the baker left. “Slack jawed, pig-ignorant…” muttered Trixie, under his breath, and he looked back at his lane with some apprehension. “Don’t worry about him, Trix, he’s just an earth pony,” The owner, a unicorn whose name Trixie couldn’t recall, tried to offer some comfort to the wizard. He looked at Trixie, then the lane he was focused on. “Somethin’ wrong, pal? Do you not like bowling?” “I like it well enough,” Trixie looked over to the other unicorn. “But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to really play it. You see, I--and I’m not complaining, I wasn’t brought up to complain--but I…” Trixie trailed off, looking slightly askew from the owner, before returning to the sentence with a haughty tone. “My superior, noble breeding has left me with a physiological quirk, you see: my legs, like those of some of the greatest generals and scholars, twist slightly out of their… orbit, you know--what I mean to say is that-” “Your knees are messed up, and your hooves point out more than they should. Yeah, my nephew has that,” interjected the owner, leaving Trixie quiet and nodding with a blank expression. “They’ve got him in leg braces for it. Anyhow, don’t feel bad if you can’t get the hoofwork down for bowling because it hurts--you’re a court wizard, not a bowler. Just have fun,” The owner, smirking, turned and stepped out from behind the bar, nodding at Trixie before heading to presumably have a talk with the colt in the back. Trixie walked over to his isolated lane, his still blank expression belying his brooding over the mention of leg braces. He stayed there for a couple hours, bowling poorly and alone. --- A cacophony of clicking tongues, slurring speech and slinging spittle on the filthy hardwood floor. A faint aroma of stale urine and stagnant water, evoking the image of a bloated corpse floating face down up a river in the mind of the increasingly disturbed Beatrix Lulamoon. It seemed that the descent of the sun was directly proportionate to the freakish and obscene behavior of the stallions shambling around him. He sat strategically at the bar, bending his shoulders in such a way that he thought it would convince the drunken patrons to leave him alone. All Trixie had to do was wait for Night Glider to come in and have his usual glass of whatever it was he drank, then he’d set in motion the last wheels of his scheme. But even waiting was proving to be a challenge; the worst of the day. The grime and stench were the least of the ordeal, it was the ever present speech--the randomly oscillating hum of twenty, thirty stallions all talking and laughing and singing louder than everypony else. Pure torture to a pony of Beatrix’s disposition. Trixie thought about having a drink to take the edge off, but the idea of reducing himself to the the level of the repulsive rabble surrounding him put him off it. Besides, it probably would’ve only made him more likely to make a scene over it, not lessen the pain of the noise. Trixie sat up and leaned on the bar, covering his ears with his hooves and closing his eyes in such a way as to not draw attention. He maneuvered his nose over the glass of water he’d been nursing and tried to think of Twilight, which only reminded him of his humiliation at breakfast and further upset him. Then, like an angel sounding a trumpet, the door to the tavern popped open and he quickly glanced over to see a dark yellow pegasus step through, bringing Trixie some relief that he could at least get on with his business there. Trixie sat up, uncovering his ears and moving the glass of water aside. “Well, well, well--A pegasus! Look, boys! A pegasus! You know, I don’t think they serve grape juice here,” taunted Trixie, putting on his best idea of an earth pony accent. The actual earth ponies, who held Trixie in higher regard than one might expect, laughed at the dig against Night Glider and a few even joined in, shouting their own abuse at the pegasus. A common point of contention in bars across Equestria was whether earth ponies or unicorns had the higher tolerance for alcohol, the most cited evidence for either argument being that earth ponies drank more than unicorns, but unicorns imbibed more potent spirits than earth ponies. However, common ground was always found in the belief that of all pony races, pegasuses had the poorest ability to hold their liquor. Night Glider, no matter his position on the subject, seemed to take umbrage at the mocking and proceeded to spew his own invective toward Trixie and unicorns in general. If Trixie hadn’t wanted this reaction, the exchange would’ve almost certainly devolved into name-calling and barbarism; but Night Glider had fallen right into the wizard’s trap. Trixie wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the sun had abandoned the now dark and rumbling skies and the number of ponies in the bar had gradually declined until only he, Night Glider, and a hand full of pathetic has-beens remained. The wizard was too focused on putting up the act of both drunkenness and sociability itself to keep track of time. He had drank his potion some time ago, and he didn’t know how much longer he had until it wore off and he actually became inebriated. Luckily, his plan was working and Night Glider--who was especially intoxicated--had forgotten that the drinking contest had started with an exchange of insults and was now of the belief that he and Trixie were old friends. The plastered pegasus was wobbling about in his seat, complaining about something and Trixie was looking away, making some strange face and clearly annoyed about something. “I… I-you and me, Rick, things weren’t like this when we were growing up. Well, you probably grew up in Canterlot or someplace or...But, I mean, it’d still apply, I guess. Anyway, yeah, nopony went around whining and moaning about ‘oh, this colt’s daddy smacked him once, give us some bits’. No way, Tr-Tri-Rick--No way, Rick. I can’t stand those little pantywaists, thinking they deserve to have… Just because they got, I got beat like an old rug when I was--And the participation trophies! They, they’re-... Rick?” Night Glider was blathering on the way he had been most of the night, being skillfully guided on course by Trixie’s suggestions, but stopped upon seeing the wizard’s impatience. Trixie’s expression quickly returned to normal upon the call and he leapt at the chance to reciprocate, intentionally slurring his speech as he took a drink, “Yeah, I know what you mean… Kids today--and that stupid f-fair… More like a pity party than a fair, if you ask me. And besides, it’s just so they can get-” Night Glider leaned forward, nearly falling out of his chair, and said, “Yeah! Yeah! It’s all just for a hoofout, and so those socialist unicorns sitting behind their desks in Canterlot can push their political agenda down our-” “Yeah, I-Yeah, and like today, for example,” Trixie interjected before the pegasus could get started on another tirade. “I was walking down to the bowling alley and some little pegasus filly came up to me with some sob story, asking for money--said her dad’s punishments were abuse, and kept asking for money. Said she was poor because her father was a stupid factory worker.” Night Glider’s expression was unsettling to Trixie, and he almost reconsidered this course of action. Unfortunately, he continued. “Yeah, this fair’s bringing out the worst in everypony, Night Glider. Even little fillies--and it was just a filly, talking about abuse and asking for hoofouts. When I was a little fil- Colt, I mean, I didn’t even know the word abuse. And she, uh... Little… orange filly, I think. Doesn’t really matter, I guess. She just rode off on her scooter afterwards. Seems to me that if her father really were so awful, she wouldn’t have a scooter to go around on--but what do I know? Shame, anyhow. Ungrateful, is what she was… What do you think, Night Glider?” Trixie believed these overt and clumsy insinuations to be the height of subtlety and social finesse, but Night Glider was so out of it that Trixie’s plan seemed to work, as the pegasus stood up and excused himself with a hellish grimace before lockstepping out of the bar. Beatrix Lulamoon, being neither empathetic on any level nor particularly introspective to even the smallest degree, stood up and silently congratulated himself for fulfilling his own dark prognostications on the fate of an innocent child. With an arrogant flourish and a self-satisfied grin, he danced out of the bar and into the cold street. --- Trixie sauntered into Twilight’s bedroom, the mare herself nowhere to be seen. He dropped his travel bags and scepter by his side of the bed, he’d return everything to it’s place in his tower tomorrow; right now he was cold, hungry, distressed and his twisted legs hurt--he just wanted to sleep. Unfortunately, fate was not kind to the wizard, and neither was Twilight. “I spoke to Cheerilee, Trixie. She hasn’t seen you all day,” Twilight appeared, leaning against the doorframe and speaking with a coolly aggravated tone. “And are you going to tell me why you cast knock and detect? Most importantly: are you going to tell me why you’re only now getting in at-” A small orb of light formed at Twilight’s horn and she looked over to the hanging clock. “Twenty minutes to midnight?” The princess stared expectantly at her discontent illusionist. Trixie didn’t say a word--didn’t even look at her. With magic he slid the sheets and blanket down, slipping into the bed and closing his eyes. This display of insolence was not particularly conducive to the sleep he seemed to desire, as Twilight quickly developed an expression of displeasure. She stopped leaning against the door frame and took a step in, planting her hooves. “Trixie. Get up.” Annoyed eyes of rose cracked open, and Trixie gave an extremely audible sigh before sluggishly rising out of bed. He stood there, glaring at the frosty window, waiting. “Come here,” ordered Twilight, levitating Trixie’s possessions over to her escritoire for later inspection. Trixie marched over indignantly to the mare, never looking directly at her. There was a short pause, and he could feel Twilight’s eyes upon him--waiting for him to speak first. “What?” asked Trixie, sternly. Twilight sighed, her anger morphing into disappointment. “Trixie… What-...? Trixie, look at me,” Trixie could detect sadness in her voice, and his own expression softened as he glanced up at Twilight, then back down. “Trixie, just tell me the truth,” sighed Twilight, rubbing the wizard’s wet mane. Trixie, of course, thought up a lie. With his most sympathy-evoking voice, Trixie pleaded, “Well, I tried to talk to Cheerilee--but I got so nervous at the thought of seeing those schoolponies again after so long and… later, I was walking alone to the bowling alley and heard a group of ponies about to turn the corner and I was... afraid. So I looked around and saw an abandoned shed I could hide in, but the door was locked--so I had to cast knock. Then, after a few minutes I cast detect equinoid to see if they were waiting outside for me and-” “Trixie, you cast detect equinoid before you cast knock,” Twilight said with a little more sternly. “Look at me,” The alicorn rubbed her weary face then planted her hoof on the floor loudly. Trixie looked back up at her, exasperated, and locked his eyes with her’s. “I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me the truth; why did you cast those spells--why did you really go to town?” asked Twilight. Trixie paused, never breaking eye contact and growing visibly perturbed. “The truth is that… I know it sounds stupid, but I thought Cheerilee might have been sabotaging the fair on purpose. So I waited until recess was out, and I cast those spells to break into the schoolhouse to see if she and the weather service were-” “Trixie,” Twilight halted the ridiculous speech, glaring at the stallion. She paused, taking a deep breath and looking into his shifting eyes. Then her horn sparked, and the gold ring around Trixie’s horn glowed, sending him into a static rage. “Until you learn to be more truthful with me, you’ve lost your magic privileges-” Twilight dictated, hesitating once she saw Trixie’s face contort into a furious scowl. “No! No! No!” Trixie screamed, stamping his hooves and stammering like a child throwing a tantrum. “Y-you can’t-! Y-you c-ca-!” wailed the thrashing stallion, shaking his head violently as tears welled up in his tired eyes. Twilight was unmoved by the display, taking another deep breath and looking back into the hall. Twilight opened the door to Trixie’s bedroom as the stallion himself screamed and howled and threw his fit. “Trixie, go to your room until you calm down,” Twilight said calmly, stepping aside to clear the doorway. Trixie stood there for a second, blubbering and whining before he complied and stormed off to his quarters. They had both been through this before. After she heard Trixie’s door slam, Twilight sighed. She wasn’t upset with her wizard’s childish behavior; she knew he couldn’t help it. She dragged herself over to the satchels waiting on her desk and started sifting through them, Trixie’s ambient wailing filling the room.  While he always had these meltdowns, they had become less common since Twilight set him on his special diet, so she was especially sad this had to happen tonight. More incomprehensible screaming and the occasional crash could be heard as Twilight took Trixie’s magic scepter and locked it away in an enchanted chest. She reminded herself that it wasn’t Trixie’s fault that he could only deal with stress this way. The crying and screaming was bad enough, but Twilight still flinched when she heard the crashes and bangs erupting from her stallion’s embattled bedroom. He only did this once or twice when they were growing up (in front of Twilight, at least) and it never really shook her up; but once they started living together, and entered a romantic relationship, Twilight realized how often Trixie would have these episodes. At first she thought that they were just immature tantrums as a result to some injury to his famous ego, but when she learned of the true purpose behind these meltdowns it shattered her. After that, these rages shook Twilight to her core; it was as if Trixie was a different pony, but she knew that she had to stay calm through them, just as much for herself as for Trixie’s sake. Twilight partially blamed herself, yelling at Trixie during breakfast probably set it all in motion. That, combined with having to see all those ponies in town is most likely what caused the episode. Taking away his magic was just the catalyst. Twilight rifled through the bags some more, finding a small blue bottle and putting it in a drawer for later examination. Besides the bottle, she didn’t recognize anything out of the ordinary in the wizard’s belongings. As she finished returning Trixie’s belongings to their place in his satchel, Twilight noticed the pounding and bawling from the wizard’s room had died down, now replaced with soft sobbing. She sighed and took several more deep breaths, stretching out her wings and composing herself. She left her room and stepped up to Trixie’s door, wrapping her hoof around the door handle. Cracking the door open, she saw her special somepony sitting on the ground, his head in his hooves and ears pricked up as he abruptly stopped rocking. Twilight carefully stepped inside and sat down quietly next to Trixie. She wrapped her wings and hooves around him, frowning as she felt how cold and sweaty he was, sitting there in the middle of the floor. Trixie was wheezing, little whines escaping his throat as his heart pounded. Twilight nuzzled him and, rubbing his matted mane, kissed him on the cheek. “Shh…” She held him a little closer, starting to slowly rock back and forth with him. Trixie’s pulse gradually returned to normal, and his sobbing gasps decreased in frequency. “It’s okay…” Twilight dried his eyes with one wing, nuzzling him as his breathing became less erratic. “Trixie…” Twilight kissed her sobbing wizard. “We don’t have to talk about what you did in town,” She hugged him a little tighter. “But… you’re always talking about how ‘free’ you used to be--but when I try to give you more freedom, like use your magic,” Trixie seemed to be listening, but was still crying and looking off in the distance. “You go off and do things like this--and I know that you only do what you do because you think it’s right--but,” Twilight ran her hooves along Trixie’s mane. “I’m responsible for your actions, Trixie. Now do you understand why I had to take your magic away, for a while?” She craned her neck around to try and catch Trixie’s eyes. “I-I understand…” stammered Trixie, teary eyed and now hugging Twilight back. Twilight smiled. “I love you, Trixie.” “I love you, too.” Twilight began to stand, bringing Trixie up with her. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then we’ll go to bed.” About a half hour later things had calmed down, but residual discomfort hung in the air of Twilight’s bedroom. The alicorn herself was laid back on some pillows, reading some thick historical fiction novel. Trixie never cared to read much fiction, preferring only existentialism when he did--but he was in no state to read any book, fiction or otherwise. He was sat up, wearing polka dot cotton pajamas and gently rocking himself, Twilight occasionally rubbing his back. It always took some time for Trixie to return to normal after one of his outbursts, but Twilight was just glad it was over. The room was warmly lit by a single candle on Twilight’s bedside table, serenely flickering as the disquiet melted away. The hail had stopped pinging off the frosty windows, and the only sound to be heard was snow gently patting the roof. The wind would occasionally howl off in the distance, like the echoing twang of a sorrowful guitar. Twilight looked over to the wintry expanse beyond her windows, smiling as she magically closed the drapes over one, but leaving the window nearest to her and Trixie unobscured. She sat her book down on her table and slid up to her stallion, now rocking rhythmically with eyes closed as Twilight wrapped her hooves around him and nuzzled his neck. “We’ve come a long way, Trixie,” Twilight  kissed him on the cheek then returned to nuzzling his neck, hugging him more tightly as his breaths became deeper. “Mhm...Feeling better? Wearing your favorite pajamas... Here, let me give you a massage,” Twilight moved her hooves up to Trixie’s shoulders, wrapping her wings around him as a substitute for the embrace. Hugs and holding seemed to help Trixie when he got like this, Twilight had noticed. Trixie seemed to relax at the deep rubbing, opening his eyes and looking down. “Talk to me, Trixie,” Twilight brushed Trixie’s curly white mane to one side and kissed his neck, the stallion himself only mumbling in response. “How was your day in town? Did you talk to any of your friends?” Twilight asked sweetly, knowing she was getting onto the topic that set Trixie off. “No,” muttered Trixie, almost starting to rock until he felt Twilight’s wings around him. She could feel him get a little more tense at the mention of his actions in town. He was now looking up, furtively glancing around. Twilight stopped rubbing his shoulders and brought her hooves around his chest instead, bringing him into a soothing embrace. “It’s okay”, reassured Twilight, resting her head on Trixie’s shoulder. “We don’t have to talk about it, right now,” Twilight felt Trixie’s breaths getting shallow as she looked over to her bedside table, wondering if she should continue. “In fact, I don’t think you should go to town anymore unless I’m with you.” Twilight pressed herself against Trixie, hunched over as his muscles contracted and eyes clenched shut. He brought his head down and his hooves over it. “No! N-n-n-n-agh!” Trixie screamed, shaking his head wildly and managing to rock even with Twilight latched onto him. He thought he heard her say something, but he was in the throes of another fit. Trixie started tapping his hooves against the back of his head, therapeutically, and it only took a moment before they escalated into full blown strikes against his skull. “Trixie!” Twilight’s hooves shot back up to his shoulders, clamping down on his arms and jerking backward so that they both fell back onto the bed. Trixie squirmed and shook, trying to throw Twilight off of him, but she had his arms restrained in a hard embrace and his head pinned down by her own. His breaths were quick and strained, and he yelped in distress as tears streamed down his contorted face. Twilight had to bite back her own tears, trying her best to comfort the jerking stallion with firm nuzzling and soothing shushes. “Trixie…” Twilight shut her eyes, feeling Trixie starting to hyperventilate. “Trixie…” The wizard’s thrashing lessened as his crying became more pained. “Trixie, breathe.”