“And this will be your room, right here.”
Starlight stepped aside from the open door as Trixie entered. The guest room, similar to the others in Twilight’s castle, had an arboreal-themed decor. The doorway was surrounded by a relief in the shape of a tree, images of foliage flowing out across the walls. A large window looked out over the land to the rear of the castle, and a large bed lay opposite the door. Trixie surveyed her accomodations, shrugged off the saddlebags which held a few necessities for her stay, then turned to her friend.
“I don’t see why I need to stay here with you both. I have a perfectly good bed of my own in my wagon.” Trixie walked to the window and looked out to the rear grounds, where her wagon lay parked. “And I don’t see why I just had to drag it here halfway across town.”
“Well, Field Day starts early tomorrow,” Starlight explained, joining Trixie at the window. “Twilight figured it’d be easier if we all got up together.” She glanced sidelong at the blue unicorn. “And you’re not exactly a morning pony, you know.” Trixie sniffed.
“Trixie is very happy to live a life that lets her sleep in while others are going to their awful, dull jobs every morning.” She turned to Starlight. “And that still doesn’t explain why I had to bring my wagon here.”
“It’ll be safer. You’re going to be busy for the next couple of days, right?” Starlight peered down at the purple star-spangled wagon. “You wouldn’t want anything to happen to your stuff, would you?”
“I suppose,” Trixie replied. “Although anypony who messes around in there might end up blowing themselves into next week. I have a lot of fireworks stored in it.”
A hint of concern clouded Starlight’s face. “Those are stored, you know… Safely, right?” she asked.
“Safe enough.” Trixie turned to her bags and levitated them onto the bed. “Trixie has never been one to study safety instructions too closely, but she’s managed to stay in one piece so far.” Her answer didn’t seem to reassure Starlight much.
“Hey, so…” Starlight stammered. “Why don’t you unpack and I’ll go down and double check that your wagon’s locked up tight.” She paused. “And that it’s not going to blow up half the castle.” She quickly trotted out of the room, her hoofbeats quickening to a run as she hurried down the long hallway.
“I was kidding,” Trixie called after her. “I…” She trailed off as Starlight’s hoofsteps faded. She sighed. “I should really learn to keep my mouth shut.”
Again, she turned to look out the window. It framed the foothills on the town’s outskirts that eventually rolled into the mountains upon which shone the city of Canterlot in the distance. “It’s a pretty view,” a tiny voice whispered inside her mind. Trixie had to agree. The view was lovely, which just made the situation seem worse. She turned back to resurvey the room. “It’s the best room you’ve had in ages,” the tiny voice said. “Maybe ever.”
The problem was that she didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to be staying in this room, because doing so meant she was about to join Starlight in her little jaunt back to childhood days. Every instinct she had told her to run, to just head outside, come up with any excuse, and then get back on the road with her little wagon. That was how she’d learned to handle uncomfortable situations, and it had served her well for years. If the situation seemed dicey and the crowd was turning on you, take a bow, throw a smoke bomb, and then hightail it to the next town over. You could always stop to count your money later.
Trixie walked over to the side of the bed, then flopped herself across it. “Soft,” said the tiny voice. “You could get used to this.” Trixie wished the voice would stop trying so hard to sell her on staying. “I don’t want to do this,” she said. She rolled on her back. “I don’t want to do this!” she said again, more insistently. She began rocking from side to side. “I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want to!”
There came a soft knocking from the doorway. Trixie tilted her head back over the side of the mattress. There in the upside-down doorway of the upside-down room stood an upside-down baby purple dragon with green bony fins. Spike smiled awkwardly and waved his claw at her. With an annoyed grunt, Trixie rolled herself over, blowing the forelock of her mane from the front of her face. “And what do you want?” she asked, not even trying to hide her irritation. “Have you come to laugh at Trixie some more?’
“No,” Spike replied, still standing at the threshold. “I came to see if your room was all right and if you needed anything.”
“It’s fine.” Trixie sat up and rolled off of the bed. “I don’t need anything. In fact…” She began levitating her bags back onto herself. “I think I’ll just sleep out in my wagon tonight.” Spike looked down at his feet, blushing, then looked back up.
“Wait,” he said. “I also came to apologize about laughing before.”
Trixie paused, the bags hanging in midair, before they settled back onto the bed. Spike twisted his toe claw into the floor, then continued. “It was mean of me. I shouldn’t have done that.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. Please don’t camp outside tonight. Twilight would feel awful if you did.”
Trixie frowned at him, then her expression softened. “Very well, Trixie forgives you.” She sat back down on the bed. “I suppose the look on my face was pretty funny when they said what we’ll be doing.”
“Yeah, kind of.” Spike ambled over to the bed and sat down next to her. “Did you know your ear twitches when you get upset?”
“Does it?” Trixie thought about it for a moment. “I suppose I’ve never gotten upset in front of a mirror.”
They sat in silence before Spike spoke again.
“So…” he ventured. “What are you going to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you were just rolling around on the bed yelling ‘I don’t want to!’ at the ceiling, so I figured, you know…” He looked up at her. “That you don’t want to go through with this.” Trixie looked away. “Is it really going to be so bad if you do it?” he asked.
“Let me put it this way, Twilight’s little pet dragon—”
“Hey!” Spike looked incensed. “I’m not her pet!”
“Servant, then. Anyway, my childhood and I have an agreement. It lives in the past and I live in the present, and we don’t speak to each other except on birthdays and certain holidays.”
Spike snorted with laughter, drawing a glare from Trixie.
“Come on!” he protested. “That was clearly a joke!”
Trixie opened her mouth to loose a devastating retort, then changed her mind. Sparring with the little dragon wasn’t going to solve her problem, nor was it making her feel better. She opted to simply give him a sour look and began pacing around the room.
“I don’t know why Starlight seems ready to repeat the third grade, but I’m not.” She paused by the window. Outside, she could see Starlight fussing over her wagon. “I’m just going to have to tell her and Twilight that I can’t do it.”
“Well, if you are, you’d better tell Twilight soon,” Spike replied. “She’s out right now getting you two signed up for Field Day tomorrow.”
“All right, then!” Trixie turned, her eyes filled with resolve. “The great and powerful Trixie shall confront Twilight Sparkle and...” She faltered, the resolve fading. “And tell her that I just remembered that I have to do a show in the next town over.”
Spike’s eyes narrowed, his expression now stony. “You literally just got back from doing a show in the next town over,” he said, exasperation creeping into his voice. “You told us that, like, two hours ago.”
“All right, then! I’ll tell her...” Trixie again faltered. “I’ll say I caught a cold, and it would be irresponsible to expose those poor little children to it.” Spike arched a brow ridge. “Cough, cough,” Trixie added.
Spike smacked a claw to his forehead and slowly drew it down his face. “Okay, first of all, nopony’s going to believe you came down with a cold in the last hour. Second…” He looked up at Trixie and shook his head in disbelief. “You do realize you’re just saying ‘cough, cough’ and not actually coughing, right?”
Grunting with frustration, Trixie again turned toward the window. She looked down at the ground below. “How high up are we?” she asked.
“I dunno. Three stories, I guess.”
“I wonder how badly I’d be hurt if I jumped.”
As she stood there, weighing her options, Trixie suddenly yelped as Spike grabbed onto her tail and began pulling her away from the window.
“Let me go!” she shouted.
“Not till you promise me that you’re not going to jump out the window!”
“All right, all right! Trixie promises!”
Spike released her tail. Trixie craned her head around to survey the damage. Fortunately, he hadn’t torn any of it out. She gave it an experimental shake, earning a twinge of pain in return.
“Maybe you’re right. I hate having to go to the hospital.”
“And Starlight would hate having to go to her best friend’s funeral, which she would, because you’ll probably break your neck if you jump out the window.”
“Well, what do you suggest I do, then?!” Trixie demanded, her tone almost desperate. “How do I get out of this?!”
“You want my advice?” Spike asked. “Okay, here it is: Go to Twilight as soon as she gets back…”
“Yes, and...?”
“And just be honest with her.”
Trixie waited expectantly for him to say more. Disappointment clouded her face when she realized none was forthcoming. She turned away with a exasperated groan, but the little dragon grabbed her shoulder.
“Listen,” he said. “Why are you in this mess?”
“Because I was trying to help my friend?”
“No, because you didn’t just go to Twilight in the first place and talk to her about Starlight.”
“Because she doesn’t take me seriously!”
“Trixie, she doesn’t take you seriously because you do stuff like this!”
Trixie shrugged out of his grasp and turned away, furious. She hated being criticized. She hated being ridiculed. Most of all, she hated that he was right. Because this was her fault. She’d made a plan, and it was a bad one. She’d counted on Twilight doing one thing, and never expected her to do the other. She hadn’t thought anything through, and now everything was spinning out of control.
As she stood there, struggling to regain her composure, she felt Spike’s claw on her shoulder.
“Deep breath,” he said.
“What?”
“Take a deep breath.”
She glanced back at him. He didn’t seem to be mocking her. If anything, he looked concerned. She inhaled.
“Hold it a second,” he instructed. She held her breath. “Now, let it out slow.”
She slowly released the breath, then turned back to face him.
“Whenever Twilight starts to panic, she starts coming up with bad ideas,” he explained. “Her sister in law taught her to do that to calm herself down. Did it help?”
Trixie took another deep breath, then slowly exhaled. It did help.
“Just go to Twilight and talk to her. Tell her why you acted the way you did at breakfast. Tell her why you don’t want to do this.”
“She’ll just laugh at me.”
“Trixie, she won’t. You know she won’t!” Spike thought a moment. “Do you remember what you called her before?”
“Stupidly sincere?”
“Yeah, exactly. Do stupidly sincere ponies laugh at others?”
Trixie sighed. “I suppose they don’t,” she admitted.
“Just talk to her,” he said. “No tricks, no stories, no excuses. You do that, and you’ll impress her more than teleporting from one side of Equestria to the other.”
There came the sound of approaching footsteps from the hallway. Spike and Trixie both turned to see Starlight reenter the room, a look of relief on her face.
“Good news,” she announced. “The wagon’s locked up tight, and the fireworks look safe as can be.” She turned to Spike. “Twilight’s home. She asked me to come get you. I think she needs a letter sent.”
“Duty calls,” he said. As he headed for the door, he turned back toward Trixie. “Take my advice, okay?”
Starlight watched the little dragon leave, then turned back to Trixie. “Advice about what?”
“I just need to ask Twilight about something.”
“Oh.” Starlight thought for a moment. “That’s new. Anything important?”
“Probably not.” Trixie turned back to her bags on the bed, eager to change the subject. “I suppose I should get this stuff unpacked. Not that there’s much to unpack.”
“What did you bring for a two night stay?” Before Trixie could protest, Starlight’s horn glowed as she telekinetically opened the bags and began examining their contents. “Let’s see… Hair brush… Toothbrush… Pillow?” She looked questioningly at Trixie. “We do provide pillows here, you know.”
“Trixie likes the feel of her own pillow.”
“Oh… Okay, I can see that.” Starlight continued to unpack. “And this is… What is this?” She levitated a small, folded square of cloth. “A towel?” She unfolded it. It was a light blue, soft material with a blue satin trim. Worn, but carefully patched.” You didn’t need to bring your own towel. We have those, too.”
“That’s… That’s nothing!” Trixie’s own horn glowed as she grabbed it from Starlight’s spell grip. It floated to her, where she quickly refolded it and placed it on the bed. Starlight tilted her head questioningly. “It’s… It’s just a blanket I like to keep,” Trixie stammered. Her cheeks were now bright red.
“It’s awfully small for a blanket. It almost looks like…” Starlight’s eyes suddenly widened as a delighted smile spread across her face. She looked from Trixie to the tiny blanket and back. “Oh, my goodness. Is that…?”
“Stop right there,” Trixie warned
“It’s just, I’m wondering if…”
“Don’t say it,” Trixie replied, her face darkening.
“Okay.” Starlight stood silent as Trixie continued to blush furiously. She finally could stand it no longer. “Is that your blankie?”
“Starlight, please!” Trixie angrily stuffed the foal blanket back into her bag. She took a deep breath, held it a moment, then exhaled slowly. “Trixie hates it when she’s laughed at,” she finally said.
“I’m not laughing,” Starlight said. “I’d never do that to you. It’s just…” She smiled. “It’s just surprising. You don’t seem like the type who’d sleep with their old blankie.”
“Because I’m not.”
A look of confusion fell across Starlight’s face. “Then, why do you have…?”
Trixie sighed and slowly withdrew the blanket from the bag. She levitated it into her hooves as she sat down on the floor, then rubbed it against her cheek.
“It’s something I bring out only a couple of times a year,” she finally explained. “Sunday is going to be a little hard for me.”
“Sunday?” Starlight asked. “What about Sunday? That’s just…” Her eyes widened. “Sunday is Mother’s Day.”
Trixie nodded silently. “It helps me to remember,” she said quietly, her gaze downcast. The two friends stood silent, neither knowing what to say. At last, Starlight sat down in front of Trixie and placed a hoof on her shoulder.
“When did she die?”
Trixie swallowed. “A long time ago.” She looked up. “Long enough that I have trouble remembering what she looked like.” She nervously fidgeted with the blanket as she spoke. “I have pictures, of course, but in my memory… Just impressions now.” She raised the blanket back to her cheek, closing her eyes. “That she was warm. And soft.” She buried her face in the blanket and inhaled. “And I remember the smell of lavender and vanilla.”
Trixie carefully refolded the blanket, then looked up at Starlight, a thin and awkward smile on her face. “Now you’ve seen the face of the soppy and sentimental Trixie. Please don’t tell anyone else. I have a reputation to maintain.”
“I’ll never tell a soul, cross my heart,” Starlight replied, tracing an X across her chest. She suddenly hugged her friend close and held her tight. The embrace went on for a few moments before Trixie cleared her throat.
“Trixie appreciates the hug, but thinks it’s gone on long enough.”
“Oh, sorry.” Starlight released her and then rubbed the back of her head, embarrassed. “I guess I’ve been living with Twilight for too long.” She placed her hoof back on Trixie’s shoulder. “Are you going to be all right?”
The thought flashed through Trixie’s mind. Here was her chance! All she had to say was no, and then she could get out of this! It was perfect, it was understandable, and it wouldn’t be a lie. She could avoid the embarrassment she knew would accompany this crazy scheme. She could…
“You’d be running away again, like you always do,” said the little voice.
Not for the first time, Trixie cursed the little voice. It seemed to exist only to make her life harder, to make her feel guilty for trying to work things to her advantage. It also seemed unusually insistent. What did it want from her?
“Talk to Twilight,” it whispered. “Stop running away.”
Fine, she thought. Anything to get it to shut up. She bit her lip, then answered Starlight.
“I’ll be okay. Anyway, I need to go see Twilight.”
“She’s probably down in the library.” Starlight stood up. “I’m working on a new version of my spell. We’ll probably cast it soon so we can make sure there are no problems. One question: any preferences on hair?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m aiming to make us both about 9 years old. Old enough to have cutie marks, young enough to still be little kids. Did you wear your hair any particular way back then, or do you just want to keep what you have now?”
Trixie scoffed. “Trixie spent years perfecting this style. She will keep it for this, too.” She then smiled. “I tried braids when I was little. That was a mistake.”
“Noted. Okay, see you downstairs.”
Starlight trotted out the door, leaving Trixie alone with her thoughts. It was time to get the situation back under control. It was time to set things right. It was time she was honest with Twilight.