//------------------------------// // Eight Points // Story: Legacy of the Greatest // by Emperor //------------------------------// Trixie disliked teleportation. Oh, the actual function was perfectly fine. Rather, Trixie disliked how the majority of unicorns viewed teleportation as the natural endpoint of useful magic. A unicorn's first spell was very often levitation, learned in the cradle. By the time they grew up, most unicorns desired to learn teleportation. Only the more ambitious of magicians persevered through the hard work required, but a sizable number of unicorns eventually learned it. To get there, they trained, they studied, they revised, and they researched and developed other spells along the way. Then they stopped. Once they had teleportation down, there was no next big project. Rare was the pony who saw teleportation as a mere step in life to learning still more powerful magic or, better yet, creating new magic. Oh, there were still plenty of minor magical spells a unicorn would learn for convenience, but teleportation was the last great wall to surmount. The spark to push beyond was something Trixie had only seen six times. The first was the stallion she would come to call her master. The day he left this plane of life was the second-saddest day in her life, after only the death of her sovereign. The next three were the only unicorns Trixie had ever taken on as apprentices, after seeing their drive. One had gone on to become a powerful enchantress, creating eight objects of minor renown. The other two had faded even further into history, but it was Spectral Trick and his illusion spells that Trixie had decided to honour in her current iteration of life by naming herself after him and using his spells. All three had gone to the grave, taking the secret of her true identity with them. The last two ponies had been the late Princess Twilight Sparkle, the only one of those with the spark to ascend, and her own student Starlight Glimmer. Trixie was mildly curious about how things might have turned out for either of those two if Trixie had found them first. Instead, she had to satisfy herself with the fire the two had reignited under Trixie's hooves, making her feel alive for the first time in centuries. That fire still burned, even as both Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer had passed on. It was that fire that had driven her to finally do research again. "And so, as proven by the above equations, Fermare's Last Equation can be shown to be entirely consistent with the Ninth Principle of Magic, something creatures of all races have been struggling with since time immemorial," Trixie said aloud, before frowning. That last little bit did not belong in a scholarly paper. The instinct in her to seek harmony, not just with other ponies but with all sapient species altogether, was hard to suppress. Scratching the last sentence fragment off, Trixie sat on her chair, looking out the window. The Western Sea was roiling. The pegasi had their work cut out for them, taming the clouds that rolled in over Vanhoofer off the coast. Ponies had long since conquered the weather over most of the land, but the ocean was an entirely different beast altogether. From the gaping maw of the waters that stretched as far as the eye could see, the ocean would always spit out temperamental storms. Trixie could do it, however. She could walk out now, and in one fell swoop of magic, vanquish the wild weather and bring about a few days of calm. But Trixie wouldn't. It had been something she had long disagreed with Celestia and Luna about. Ponies needed to learn to get along without their princesses and, while Trixie was no princess, she was still a one-in-a-million sorceress. Ponies needed to be able to solve problems, and relegate the alicorns to figureheads. Other species had their immortals, but ponykind was unique in how it stuck to the princesses as its supreme leaders, rather like how a foal refused to leave the warm embrace of her dam's body. If the weather got bad enough that it risked lives, Trixie would go and help. Until then, she had something more pressing to deal with. "What should I sign this as?" She asked aloud, looking around the room for objects of inspiration. "White Quill? No, too pedestrian." She took a glance out the window. "Storm Front? No, that sounds like a pegasus name. Focus, Trixie, it's a name you're going to use for at least the next fifty years, you should like it." Trixie had started her new life many decades ago, only achieving fame as a middling magician. It would be suspicious for her to sign off on any cutting-edge research when she should be an old mare by now. Instead, it was time for her to acquire a new identity, and come out to the world with a big paper. "Perhaps you should just use Clover. How many parents name their foals after Miss Clever, anyways? You'd just be one of many. Nopony in their right mind would suspect this Clover is the real one!" Trixie swung around in her chair, rare panic settling in at the intrusion, only to narrow her eyes. "Discord," she said curtly. The draconequus was in her room, floating around, idly looking at everything. “That’s me! Oh, how tacky, I can’t believe hotels still actually use these lamps,” Discord said in a mocking tone as he picked up a lamp with an emerald-green shade, and threw it over his shoulder. “They should be using these instead!” From behind his back, he pulled out a lamp of himself. It was in a goofy positioning, as befitted Discord, with his hand holding up the bulb and the shade hanging around his waist. Trixie raised an eyebrow. Since hearing of Discord’s reformation, she had expected this day, when Discord would visit. She just never thought it would take so long, many years after he had gained his freedom. Nevertheless, Trixie was experienced at conversations with madponies from years of experience, and she would not fall under the angry currents of chaos that was Discord. “I have seen many lamps like those before, at fairs. They actually look very nice, but they are a bit, ah, campy, kitsch? Hotels strive for a bland, generic appearance, so while I would love one of your lamps in my home, I doubt a hotel chain would use them unless it was attempting to be deliberately anti-establishment.” “Oh, look at you and your fancy words! I recall the last time we met there was a lot less of that and a lot more growls, snarling, snapping and hissing,” Discord said as he set his Discord lamp up on the table, and with a snap of his fingers turned on the lamp. Trixie bit her tongue. He wants to provoke you into doing something stupid. Do not let him. “Well, the last time we met, we were fighting. I trust you have more innocuous motives for being here today?” “Oh, yes! I was just dusting my house, cleaning my dishes, when I thought to myself, ‘Hey, you mighty handsome good-looking fool, whatever happened to that one pony you fought, the one who stopped her body from aging? She had some pretty good flanks for a pony, I wonder if she’s still around?’ Lo and behold, here I am!” Discord announced with a proud smile on his face, before slithering up to Trixie, his neck twisting around her own a full circle to look at the desk she had been writing on. “Ooooh, what’s this? A paper on the Ninth Principle? I’ll give you marks for getting your thesis correct, but your conjecture isn’t! Not all species have been struggling with it. Why, my ol’ granpappy solved it five minutes before the start of creation.” “Well, it’s good to know that my second opinion agrees with me,” Trixie said drily, keeping her heartbeat steady. She wasn’t confident about winning a fight with Discord at all, but Celestia had reassured her about his reformation, though there had been some hesitation. Still, Trixie wouldn’t even give him an opening to be more annoying than he already was. It was a little unsettling for her 'good flanks' to be complimented on by Discord though. “Now I just have to pass through a peer review.” “Pfft, peer review, schmeer schmeview,” Discord said, rolling his eyes, before he suddenly poofed, disappearing only to reappear as a two-inch-tall figure, standing right on top of Trixie’s muzzle. “Oooh, we’re sorry Mr. Discord, but we think your reports on chaos magic aren’t correct despite me being, you know, the spirit of chaos!” He mocked, wiggling his paws in a gesture Trixie recognised the Minotaurs as sometimes doing, something called ‘air quotes’. “Those fools wouldn’t know a good paper if it bit them on the nose!” The paper in question suddenly floated up off the desk, rearranging itself into a tiny paper dog before biting the two-inch Discord on his nose, finally reforming back into a normal piece of paper and falling onto the desk once more. He’s more talkative than I remember him being, Trixie thought to herself, but she was genuinely interested in what he had to say. “Did you actually try to submit an academic paper?” Discord poofed, and then reappeared in his normal size, sitting on top of Trixie’s desk. “I did! It’s too bad half the peer reviewers had to drop out, on account of temporary insanity at the report book changing sizes on them, the ink on the pages sometimes disappearing and sometimes turning into a Rocschach blot, you’d swear they’ve never looked into gryphon art!” He said this as casually as if he was discussing the weather, while picking dirt out of his nails. “I’ve seen a few of those,” Trixie offered. “The gryphons like to look at them and say what they see in the Rocschach blots. Some psychologists use them, but the majority of gryphons like to come up with the most outlandish things they can think of.” “Yes, like the one gryphon who could only ever see a pink party pony and a platypus in th—oh, I see what you’re doing, changing the subject, clever of you! In fact, very clever, that reminds me,” Discord said, turning back around to the paper on the desk. “Why don’t you sign this Clover? Just Clover, no need for ‘The Clever’ of course!” Trixie scrunched her nose, showing the first sign of annoyance in their conversation thus far. “I left that name behind a long time ago.” Discord rolled his eyes. “Left it behind, sure, painful memories, can’t bear to think of the past, yadayadayada. Sunbutt had to put up without Moonbutt for a thousand years, I think a name won’t hurt you.” Trixie clenched her teeth, unwilling to say anything. "Of course, I know where your name came from," Discord mocked. "You may have decided to go by Clover, but that wasn't always the case, was it, Miss Cloven Hooves?” The mare flinched, suddenly self-conscious of her rear hooves. Discord saw it, and took full advantage of it. “My, my. You leave your first name behind because of shame, and the second one behind because of painful memories, wasn’t it?” Trixie flushed. Bad memories of her childhood so long ago came to the forefront. Faded as they were, she could still remember being mocked as a filly for her back hooves. Foals were always mean to others who weren’t like them, such as a pony who had two single-toed hooves and two cloven hooves. Her parents had been tactless in naming her after the latter. Multi-toed hooves had since completely disappeared from equinity, but even then, it had been very rare, causing her to be singled out for taunts. Cloven had fought to find an outlet to channel her anger into. She had fallen in love with that outlet, the study of magic. She had become the apprentice of Star Swirl the Bearded, and changed her name ever so slightly to Clover, eventually gaining the appellation ‘the Clever’ after her supposed death. It wasn’t a name she had heard spoken in centuries, and while time had chipped away at the memories attached to it, those foalhood taunts still rankled. “I did, yes,” Trixie admitted. “I had my reasons for it. But I’ve also had more than enough time to get over it. Now I simply choose not to use either name. I don’t care to live in the past.” “My, my,” Discord said, smirking. “That sounds a little bit like de-ni-al to me!” “I don’t really care what you think,” Trixie said scathingly. “Oh, that hurts,” said Discord in a falsetto as he laid one paw over his heart. Then he threw his paws up in the air in a mock shrug. “Oh well, I’ll get over it, just like you got over your identity crisis. Tell me one thing though, Clover. What would Princess Platinum say?” Trixie winced. She knew what her Princess would have said. Princess Platinum had been one of the wisest ponies Trixie had ever known, and though she was certain her memories of the ruler of the unicorn tribe were coloured by time, Trixie still aspired to be like Platinum. The Princess had been kind, yet willing to be hard when the time required. Those foals who played Princess Platinum for Hearth’s Warming Eve almost universally played her as a selfish brat. Were the mere idea not sacrilege to her, Trixie would have taken the role of Princess Platinum and shown an audience just once what the real Princess Platinum had been like. “She would have told me I was running away,” whispered Trixie. “That it was OK to go by another name, but to never just shed my past because it was a part of who I was.” “That sounds like her, alright,” said Discord as he floated off the desk, going over to the window to look outdoors. “She was never an actual threat to me, but that one was always a little spitfire, ready to defend her ponies.” Trixie blinked, and narrowed her eyes. Even though I intended to control this conversation, I never had a chance, did I? “Discord, what did you really come here for today?” He sighed. Trixie wondered why it sounded so odd, before she realised she had never heard the draconequus sigh before. Why would he have? If he was bored, he would just create more chaos. If he ever felt anything like melancholy to even sigh, he would still stir up chaos. “You got me, Clover,” said Discord, turning around, now standing solidly on the floor. “Many years ago, I changed my mind. Making friends felt good.” Discord began to pace around the room. It felt fitting for a being who was always in flux: standing still would have been boring. “Old Fluttershy has passed on, and while I dote on her fillies and grandfillies, it’s just not the same. So one day, I thought to myself, maybe I should go see all those who are still around from when I ruled Equestria! Well, that was a short bucket list. There aren’t exactly many immortals around.” “How many of them didn’t you antagonise back then?” Trixie asked. Discord stopped in front of the room’s mirror, then used his paws to stretch his mouth out before blowing a raspberry at the mirror. “Oh, there were more than a few of them I barely met. After all, it’s not as fun to antagonise goats or dragons as it is with ponies or cows, who’ll shriek and panic if they see a snake! But I talked with several of them.” To Trixie’s shock, Discord actually looked genuinely remorseful. “Even now, it’s difficult to curb some of my baser desires, but Fluttershy helped me. Chaos is fun, but not when it results in somebody else’s misfortune.” “That’s—” Trixie stopped, wondering how to word it. “I never expected to hear something like that from you.” “Well, time is time, and time changes everything, even me!” Discord said, sounding slightly more jubilant as he swung around, then executed a backflip, only to halt it halfway through as he landed on the ceiling, looking upside down on Trixie. “Even we immortals change. So how long are you going to be wandering this world, pitying yourself and finding new ways to go ‘oh, woe is me’?” Trixie recoiled, taken aback by the piercing question. She scrunched her nose, thinking about it. Trixie closed her eyes. Have I really been wandering without any purpose, going astray for this long? Yes. Of course I have been. What a silly question. I told Celestia as much some time ago. I need something to break me out of this funk I find myself in. Clover opened her eyes. “Ah, that’s what I’m talking about!” Discord said, as he let himself fall down to the floor in an unceremonial heap. Standing back up, he dusted himself off. Grabbing Clover by the shoulders, he looked her close in the eyes. “Those passionate violet eyes that I remember, always filled with vim and fire! Eyes that told me I was going to have an entertaining fight! Eyes that I always thought could only be put out by one thing, and one thing only. I was disappointed to realise there were two things that could, but now it’s just death again.” Wait. This isn’t quite right. There’s still something I have to do yet, the mare thought. Clover closed her eyes. Trixie opened her eyes. “The Great and Powerful Trixie was her own mare, and her own life,” she announced. “Maybe it was merely a lie, but I would be remiss not to give her one last hurrah, and to make certain history knows her name.” Walking up to the table, she picked up the quill in her grip, and signed the bottom of the research paper, Trixie Lulamoon. “Oh? So this is the way you intend to go?” Discord asked. He didn’t sound disappointed, just surprised. “Only for a while longer,” said Trixie. Then she surprised the other resident in the room by leaning forward and wrapping her hooves around him. “Urk!” Discord grunted in surprise, but he made no effort to escape the hug. “Thank you, Discord,” Trixie said. She ignored the revulsion she felt. After all, it was another mare who had fought Discord, in another time. Trixie had never met him before, and she thought she had found a kindred soul. Suddenly, the two hooves she now stood on didn’t feel so bad anymore, either. “I think I needed to be able to talk with somebody who knew me, the real me, again.” Trixie broke off her hug, and fell back down onto all fours. “Only for a little while longer, hmm?” Discord asked, stroking his goatee. “What do you intend to do first, then?” “Trixie intends to drop this off at the research society,” Trixie said, easily lapsing back into her third-pony speech, now that she felt alive again. “But before I once more take on Clover’s name, there’s one last pony I need to speak with!”