//------------------------------// // 71. New Life, New Lives, New Friends - Part Three // Story: Letters From a Little Princess Monster // by Georg //------------------------------// Letters From a Little Princess Monster New Life, New Lives, New Friends - Part Three The fat mare up in Trixie’s bedroom had better be as important as Twilight Sparkle seemed to think.  She had been sweating during her train trip, and there was a distinct line of perspiration across Trixie’s new sheets when she flopped down on the bed instead of the chair where she had been directed.  What was worse, no sooner had Trixie gotten the mare into the bedroom, then the door downstairs resonated to the rapid tapping of somepony else who wanted attention. “I’m cooking!” Trixie bellowed as she clattered down the stairs.  The hammering on the door did not stop, even after Trixie made a quick stop by the stove to give the simmering gumbo a quick stir.  “This had better be important!” she shouted, darting to the door with the dripping wooden spoon trailing in her wake. Of course, now it was her parents. “Sweetie!”  Mirabelle swept forward and practically flung Trixie into a crushing hug.  “Oh, my dear, sweet daughter!  You’ve… changed.”  She pulled back just a little in order to look Trixie in the eyes and run one hoof through her bright orange coat and mane.  “It looks good on you.  I suppose.” “It was an accident!” blurted out Trixie.  “I didn’t mean to get dyed orange, but I didn’t figure on any dye combinations doing this.  I’ll be back to normal by winter.  And my mane should grow out by then,” she added, floating out one of the short mane extensions she had borrowed from Fluttershy.  “It’s been a very difficult… time.  Mostly my fault.” Both of her parents stood stock still.  “Did you just say…” “Yes, I said it’s my fault,” snapped Trixie.  “I’ve screwed up bigtime since I came to this weird little town, but no matter how much I goofed up, I had—”  She stopped, took a breath, and continued “—friends to watch my back.” “You have changed.”  Skyflash moved up and put a pale blue wing over his daughter.  “I like it.” “I could use a bowl of that soup,” came a voice filtering down from upstairs.  “All I had to eat on the train was some preserves.” Trixie twitched, then forced a smile.  “In a minute!”  She lowered her voice and added to her parents, “The best gumbo’s not quite done, but the smaller pot should be fine for guests.  The big pot is for family.” “Is that… crawfish I smell?” asked her father, leaning forward and using his wings to waft a breeze across his nose. “You’ll find out later.  Hang on, dad.”  Trixie scooped a quick bowl of gumbo, added a spoon and a sizable linen napkin, and scooted upstairs with a call of, “Soup’s on!” “Are you sure that’s our daughter?” asked Skyflash before moving over to the biggest pot and starting to lift the lid.  The wooden spoon by his side suddenly glowed bright pink and smacked him across the forehoof, making the lid drop back on the pot with a clatter. “That’s my girl,” said Mirabelle. There was another sharp knock at the library backdoor and Mirabelle moved to open it, since Trixie was upstairs.  A mismatched pair of pegasi in sunglasses smiled back somewhat awkwardly, with the stallion bobbing his head and saying, “Excuse me, is Miss Trixie home?” “Who is it?” bellowed Trixie’s voice from upstairs. “Um… I’m Lou, and this is my wife, Axial Flow,” said the orange pegasus, gesturing to the quiet batpony at his side while turning his head as if to place the location of the voice inside the library.  “Are you Scootaloo’s friend, Twilight?” “She’s our daughter, Trixie,” said Mirabelle.  “Come on in and have some gumbo.  Don’t mind Miss Vorel’aurix-levethuix Maekrix-book-rasvim.  The girls told me she’s one of Trixie’s librarian friends from up north, here to organize a book trade.” The dragon in the other room (or at least that section of her) gave a vaguely assertive grunt while continuing to read. “Oh, we couldn’t,” said Lou while scooting his wife forward with one wing.  “But since you insist.  Is that cajun cooking I smell?” The batpony to his side bumped her sunglasses up and took a sniff of the air.  “With crawdads?” “I like them already,” said Skyflash, giving his wife a prod in the side with the tip of one wing.  “Come on in and we’ll see if it’s done enough—” There was a bright flash as Trixie teleported into the room, yanked open the icebox, and got out a bottle of soda.  “Sissy mares with no appreciation for cajun cooking,” she muttered before vanishing in another bright flash and the loud call of, “Got it!” “—to eat,” finished Skyflash as he moved into the kitchen.  “Pardon my daughter, the mayor.  She’s been rather busy today.  So, what would you like with your gumbo?  It looks like we have Bayou Lafourche potato salad, cornbread, coleslaw, stuffed hot peppers…” The back door of the library rattled again, but before Mirabelle could move, there was another bright flash of light and Trixie was there, yanking the door open and shouting, “What?!” Mayor Mare, or more correctly at that point in time, Ivory Scroll looked back unperturbed. “Good afternoon, Madam Mayor,” she started.  “The pre-fireworks mayoral speeches are going to begin shortly after Mister Rich’s wedding, and I thought I might stop by to give you a few pointers about…”  The ex-mayor trailed off, her nose twitching. “Come on into the kitchen and I’ll dish you up a bowl,” called out Skyflash.  “You want hot or volcano?” “Honey, do you have any honey to go with the cornbread?” asked Mirabelle, standing up on her hind legs and rooting around the cupboard. “Spike!” bellowed Trixie, “do we have any… Oh, pucker.  I sent him out to enjoy the festival.  Come on in Madam Mayor.   Mom, I’m only temporary mayor until next week’s election re-do-over, so stop making it sound like I need a crown.  Dad, don’t give the mayor a bowl of the good stuff!  I mean… It has crayfish in it.  You don’t like spicy crayfish, do you, Madam Mayor?” “Um…”  Ivory Scroll hesitated only a moment in her path behind Trixie and into the warm, friendly kitchen.  As a politician, she had eaten many more suspect items, but her nose was already burning, and if she had the choice...  “The less-hot variety, please.” ~ ~ ✶ ~ ~ Monster drew in a breath, feeling the harmonic hum of the world, the perfect resonance of the town, undisturbed by— “You!”  Spoiled Milk’s shrill voice could have curdled… well, milk, and quite a few gallons of it.  “What have you done with my husband and my daughter?  I demand you bring them back this instant and get your worthless magic teacher to my wedding!  We have a schedule to keep.” Harmony shimmered around Monster, but it did not shatter.  Like a watermelon seed pressed between hooves, there was only one path for her to take, and she vanished in a flash of light. —and reappeared in the middle of the library kitchen at almost the exact moment the back door of the library slammed open from Diamond Tiara’s powerful (for her size) double-buck. Guests startled.  Bowls went flying.  So did the contents.  In the middle of it all, Diamond Tiara skidded to a messy halt and looked at Monster with just the smallest flicker of confusion before grabbing the little alicorn and shouting, “Where’s my mother?” “Upstairs,” said Trixie who was wearing a dripping gumbo bowl for a hat. Diamond Tiara and Monster vanished in another flash of teleportation. Monster was rapidly running out of the calm sense of harmony that had recently filled her, and nearly bobbled the spell.  She tripped on Trixie’s new bedroom carpet and shook her head to clear away the fuzzies, but Diamond Tiara stood spraddle-legged, her eyes large and breathing almost a blur before she lunged forward— —and spewed all over the floor. Monster had been expecting just about any kind of response when Diamond Tiara met her real mother.  She had written out a rather complicated diagram that detailed introductory lines and phrases for each possible occurrence, and had practiced with Tallgrass until she could talk through each option without stuttering.  She was all prepared.  Until now. “Towels!” she squeaked, dashing for the staircase and clattering down to the bathroom on the main floor. “Filligree!” shouted Filthy Rich as he burst through the library back door and looked around.  “Where’s my… Where’s Filligree?” he bellowed at Trixie, who was caught just coming out of the kitchen with a wet washcloth over her head. Monster backpedaled, clattering back up the stairs with several towels, a tablecloth, and a rug from downstairs floating up after her.  She could hear Trixie’s angry voice below when Monster flung herself into the bedroom and threw the towel over a coughing and spluttering Diamond Tiara, who had not quite finished vomiting yet. There was a quite awkward silence, reminding Monster that she had not worked up the courage to see her own mother yet, and no matter how bad that meeting went, it most probably would not be messier than Diamond Tiara’s first meeting. “You can’t be my mother!” spluttered Diamond Tiara.  “You’re pregnant!” “It happens!” snapped the older mare sitting on the bed, half-on and half-off as if she wanted to help the vomiting little filly but could not get up enough inertia to get out of the Feather-Fluff Thaumopedic 3000 mattress.  “You’re… so big.  And a mess.  And you smell like cotton candy,” she added with a sniff.  “Doesn’t your father keep you away from sweets?” The father in question took that moment to burst into the bedroom, stagger a few steps on the loose rug that Monster had dropped, and step right in the purplish-pink of Diamond Tiara’s vomit.  “Diamond,” he exclaimed first.  Then his eyes spotted the cringing mare in the bed.  “You!” “Yes, of course it’s me!” snapped Filigree.  “You had that alicorn send me those letters!  What did you expect?” “I expected you to talk to me before you gave up our daughter for adoption,” thundered Filthy Rich as all the frustrations of years of solo parenting burst out into the open.  “I expected the decision to be mutual!” “You said you didn’t want any foals!” screamed back Filigree.  “You said the worst thing in the world that could happen to your career would be parenthood!” “Didn’t you want me?” shouted Diamond Tiara.  “Didn’t either of you want me?” “Of course I wanted you,” shouted Filthy Rich.  “She’s the one who abandoned us both!  Did you come back on the day of my wedding just to gloat?” “No!”  The shouts were mixed with tears now.  “I came back because she wrote me a letter,” declared Filigree with an accusatory hoof-point that wavered between Diamond Tiara and Monster’s slow retreat to the bedroom doorway. “I wrote letters too,” shouted Filthy Rich, still standing in the splattered puddle of vomit.  “I put letters in the paper!  I wrote letters to all of your friends!” “This is why I ran away!” sobbed Filigree.  “You never could understand what I wanted!” “You didn’t want a foal,” shouted Filthy Rich, pointing at his daughter.  “After you ran away, I had to check every orphanage, watching and hoping, afraid that you would just throw away our foal the way you just threw away our relationship.” Monster bumped into somepony while backing out of the room, and when she looked up, Trixie’s conflicted and still slightly dripping face looked back down at her, with both of Trixie’s parents right behind her on the staircase landing. “Just because they’re yelling at each other, doesn’t mean they don’t like each other,” whispered Tixie over the din.  “Sometimes, families fight, and families who love each other very much can fight extremely hard.” “And shout things they don’t mean,” said Mirabelle, putting a gentle hoof on Monster’s back. “Or run away and not want to see each other for a long time,” said Skyflash, looking down at the floor with his bottom lip trembling. There was a screeching shout outside of the library, sounding vaguely milk-like, and Trixie shuddered, but with a smile.  “Twilight, I think what Diamond Tiara’s parents really need is a change of perspective, and a few hours to think over their actions.” “I’m not supposed to do that spell,” whispered Monster. “Just for a few hours won’t hurt,” said Trixie, reaching out with her magic to grab the door and begin closing it.  “Ready?” Monster nodded.  Diamond Tiara, displaying an unusual amount of foresight for a filly her age, looked back at them with a shout and a sudden scrabbling of small hooves to dash outside the room. “Go!” Monster’s horn flashed, and Trixie slammed the door.  There was a brief pounding of hooves from the inside of the room before Monster’s horn glowed a little brighter, and violet light surrounded the room, making the noise die away to blessed silence. “Got the windows too, right Menace?” asked Trixie.  Monster concentrated for a little longer, then nodded. “Good.”  Trixie’s smug smile faded a little when the screeching of Spoiled Milk outside grew louder, but she squared her shoulders and started down the stairs.  “Mom.  Dad. Let’s go finish the gumbo with the real mayor, go make some speeches, and watch the fireworks outside of the library.  Did Lyra keep you kids all practiced up for your song while I was gone?” Monster nodded, and her pace picked up slightly. “What about—?” Mirabelle glanced back over her shoulder at the closed bedroom door, but kept walking down the stairs. “They’ll keep.  Summer Wrap-Up is a time for family to be together, after all.  With fireworks and everything else.” When she reached the bottom of the library stairs, Monster looked around, then back up at Trixie.  “Grand-père Presto?” Trixie almost stumbled, then straightened up with a subdued tremor around the corner of her eyelid that Monster barely caught.  With slow but steady steps and the occasional detour around a splash of spilled gumbo, she led Twilight into the kitchen and to a small shelf at one side, where a shiny sealed vase perched as if it were watching over all of them from the embossed chef’s toque on the front. “Presto,” said Trixie with a flourish.  “My grandfather.  He died soon after I started in Celestia’s school, and I never was able to return home afterward.” “He wanted our Beatrix to become a chef,” said Mirabelle.  “She would have been Ç'est Magnifique Trixie!” “He was a stubborn old coot, but he meant well,” said Skyflash.  “I think he knew Beaxtrix’s talent was better suited for Canterlot than to fill his shoes when he was gone, but—” Ivory Scroll cleared her throat and placed her empty gumbo bowl in the sink.  “I believe Trixie has exceeded his expectations and my own.  She has provided wise guidance to our town’s newest blessing—” Ivory nodded at Monster “—and leadership for all of us in Ponyville.  Sometimes, even in directions we like.” “She wrote to us about Scootaloo,” said Lou, “I didn’t know how important it was for our Little Lou to stay with her friends.  We’ve spent so much time and effort trying to make a proper nest for our fledgeling that we forgot she can fly on her own.” “A little,” said Monster.  “Getting better.” Trixie touched the edge of her lips with the tip of her tongue, then took a glance at the stainless-steel vase where Grand-père Presto’s ashes watched over them all.  “After the fireworks tonight, I think we all need to have a little meeting over here.  I think some of my habits are rubbing off, and I suspect the letters you all have received may not have told the whole truth.  Isn’t that right, Twilight?” Monster nodded slowly, but Ivory Scroll patted her gently on the back and rearranged the red 5F1C cloak to cover up her wings.  “If she’s going to be a princess someday, she needs to lean how to tell a few of those.  Now, we all need to get over to the stage before Spoiled Milk finds out that you’re not over at the Town Hall getting ready for her wedding like I promised her.” ~ ~ ✶ ~ ~ It was a good speech.  It should have been a good speech, because Ivory Scroll had given it several times since Trixie had arrived in Ponyville.  She was even tempted to lip-sync along with the same gestures and dramatic poses, but that would have been counterproductive. When it was her turn, Trixie took her time walking up to the podium, looking out into the crowd of Ponyvillians and associated Nearbyvilliagians and Canterlotians, including two Princesses and one really frazzled Big Mac, who looked a little like he was pinching himself to wake up.  The record player was in place, ready to start with the patriotic music montage when the first fireworks climbed into the sky, and the young students were gathered near the stage where Trixie could keep an eye on them. The catapult with the bundle of fireworks was behind the stage, away from the fireworks-lighters in front and guarded by a very protective dragon. She took a moment to shuffle imaginary notecards at the podium before looking up, counting youthful unicorns, and relaxing just a tad. “Thank you, Mayor… That is Ivory Scroll, soon to be Mayor Mare again,” started Trixie.  “That was a very good speech.  Not so good that I couldn’t do better, of course.” Trixie paused for the expected chuckle in the audience to die down, and stood there for a very long time in the silence afterward. “My friends.  All of you, even those who may not like me very much.  I’m supposed to use this time to tell you all how great I am and what a great leader I would make for your town.  A few months ago, I could have done that from sunset to sunrise, and not left enough time for fireworks.  Today… I can’t.  I’m not all that great, and I’m a lousy leader.  I found that out when I first came to town and have been re-learning that lesson every few days since.  When your city council elected me as temporary mayor while some minor paperwork errors got straightened out, I found out really quick just how much work is involved in the job.  I scr—” After a brief coughing fit into her hoof, Trixie continued, “Ahem.  I fouled it up from the start, as Filthy Rich could no doubt explain in great detail, if he were here.  The only reason this Summer Wrap-Up Festival took place is because of Mayor Mare, and her staff over at the town hall.  I know it’s a little strange for a politician to praise their opponent, but she and her staff deserve all the credit for my success over the last few weeks.  You see, true leadership is shown in the way one trains those who will follow behind her, those who will step up when she is not there to guide her—” Trixie stopped cold again, with a shock of realization coming up through her hooves.  She did not want to look over at Celestia, but she locked eyes with the princess regardless, and fairly swam in the moment of intense silence that filled the crowd, as well as the hint of a proud smile on the face of her most difficult audience. “Ahem,” repeated Trixie.  “Loyal staff like Pokey Pierce, who was responsible for the organization of the booths, or Rarity, who convinced Sapphire Shores to sing for us today, or any one of a dozen other ponies who contributed to tonight’s festivities.  They are the ones who deserve your appreciation, and to them and all of you who put up with me, we prepared a special treat.  Girls?” added Trixie, looking down at the young students. “Hey!” “Oh, and you guys too,” said Trixie.  “Come on up here on stage, just like you practiced with Lyra.  Who we need to thank also.” Amidst the shuffling of the young students, Trixie focused her magic and summoned the dusty album she had arranged for them to sing, arranging it on the record player while for some reason, Rarity out in the audience collapsed on her couch in a faint. Giving a shrug, Trixie ensured every little singer was in their place, Lyra was ready to start harping, and... ♫  We rose up with the dawn we’ve waited for so long to welcome all our friends this harvest day ♫   It was more a Fall Wrap-Up song to bring on the snow, but that was not for several months, and Trixie wanted something she could give to the town now, so she sang along with the students and the ponies in the audience as they joined in. ♫  As we recall the spring and summer past The hopes we sowed in spring and the bounty that they now bring Will fill each heart just as it fills each glass So we’ll toast once to your health And to our truest wealth The friendships old and new that we have shared And though we now must part You’ll still be in our hearts Until we meet again next harvest faire. ♫ © Jolly Rogers - Pirates Evermore album Timing was everything.  Before Trixie could tear up and start sobbing, she lit her horn, Spike released the catch on the catapult behind the stage, and a screaming ball of fireworks climbed up into the darkened sky.  One after another, the Ponyville residents and businesses lit their own screeching and booming explosives, and Trixie moved over to where Twilight Sparkle was still standing. She had not followed her fellow students out into the crowd to get the best riverside seat for the ongoing fireworks, but was just standing there, looking up into the air, which made her a very easy target for Trixie to brush up against. “So.  Not frightened of them any more?” asked Trixie. Twilight shook her head.  “No.  Happy.” Trixie thought about that for a while and pressed a little closer so she could feel the little filly’s warm sides against her own.  “Yeah.  Fireworks did always make me happy.”  She nudged the red cloak Twilight was still wearing over her wings.  “I talked to all of my friends, and they’re willing to act as class chaperones.  I suppose you’re still keeping the disguise when we go to Canterlot tomorrow?” Twilight nodded, which was about as much as Trixie thought she was going to get for the time being.  They stood there next to each other, stopping to talk when one of their friends wandered past and taking special note of the way Zecora and her husband were giving them together-space from the observation point of a nearby shaded nook.  It was a time of peace in the roaring rapids that the town resembled, and any moment where explosions were the smallest worry was a good moment indeed. The bangs and pows of skyrockets went on for a very long time, some of which Trixie suspected was because of the presence of princesses, and the populace digging through the backs of their closets for anything they could shoot off to impress their visitors.  In the end, it tailed off to a few families who Trixie suspected would still be firing their explosives collection until dawn.  Then there began the crush of ponies returning to their homes, unpacking their booths for a train trip back to wherever they came from, and more than a few visitors who were content to stretch out on a blanket and sleep under the stars. Trixie was looking forward to going home and sleeping in her own bed, thank you very much, but there was one task that still needed taking care of before that. “Hello, Princess Celestia.  Princess Luna.  Honored Concubus.”  Trixie bowed to each of the royal personages in turn, including Big Mac, who turned even redder with the title, particularly with as many other ponies were tagging along with their group.  “Did you enjoy our town’s little show?” “Very much so, Trixie Lulamoon,” said Luna, who was taking the lead now that the moon and stars were up.  “We hath discussed matters with thy parents this eve during the fireworks, and find your methods of dealing with young Diamond Tiara’s parents… unique.” “It was only for a short time, Your Highness,” started Trixie.  “The spell will be easily reversible when we return to the library.  Both parents should find this experience…”  Trixie trailed off and cast a quick glance at Scootaloo, who was yawning between her fully awake parents. “Huh?  Oh!”  Scootaloo yawned again.  “Sorry.  Yeah, the spell’s nifty.  I understand a lot more about Diamond Tiara than I really wanted to now, and she’s a lot less of a pain in the flank.”  The little pegasus hesitated and looked at her friend.  “You zapped DT’s parents?  That is so cool!” “Still,” cautioned Luna, “it could be dangerous casting such a spell on a mare so close to foaling.  Our courier said she had only a week to go.” “A week?”  Mirabelle made a dismissive gesture.  “The doctors always edge their estimates on the high side.  All the unicorns I know of were lazy daisies, and born at least a week after their due date.” “That’s not the way it is in Cloudsdale, and certainly not my experience with Little Lou,” said Axial Flow, blinking her oval yellow eyes and pointing with one membranous wing at the dim glow of the city just above the horizon.  “Pegasi pop about a week early, like they can’t wait to get out.  What type of pony is Diamond Tiara’s mother?” “Actually,” said Lou with a hoof against his chin, “what type of foal is she having?” He was talking to thin air.  Trixie had bolted.