//------------------------------// // Chapter 5 - The Glass Unicorn // Story: Rebuilding // by JD McGregor //------------------------------// “Oh, Trixie. Come in. I’m just about finished up here.” Twilight looked over the letter she’d just finished dictating as Trixie entered the library, then rolled it up and levitated it to Spike, who tied it with a ribbon. “Okay, send it, please.” Spike held it up to his mouth and breathed green fire onto it. The scroll didn’t burn so much as evaporate in a flash, the smoke it left behind wafting out the nearby window. Trixie looked around the library, which served as Twilight’s private office. It was a huge room of crystal and glass, stuffed from floor to ceiling with hundreds of books, many which looked extremely old and rare. There was also a curious-looking mirror in a corner of the room which appeared to be connected to some sort of machinery, although for the life of her, Trixie couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Yet another mystery to ponder from the complicated life of Twilight Sparkle. Twilight made a checkmark on a scroll on the table in front of her, then looked up at Trixie. “All unpacked? Is your room okay?” “Yes, it’s fine.” Everyone seemed very concerned about how much she liked her room. Why, she wondered, when she was only going to be there for a couple of nights? She supposed they were just trying to be hospitable. Well, once she’d talked things over with Twilight, there’d likely be no need for her to stay even a single night. Trixie glanced over at a set of chairs and a sofa near one of the large windows. “Could we sit down? There’s something I’d like to discuss.” “Oh. Sure.” Twilight laid down the quill pen she’d just been using. “Spike, could you get us some tea to drink?” “On it,” Spike replied. As he passed by Trixie, he winked slyly. “Good luck,” he whispered, then scampered away to get the refreshments. Twilight nodded toward the chairs, and the two of them took their seats. “So, are you excited?” Twilight began. “You must be happy that we’re actually doing this.” “Yeah, about that…” Trixie bit her lip as she studied the pattern in the carpeting on the floor. It was one thing to boast and tease Twilight, but just talking to her? At that, she wasn’t nearly as practiced. She looked up and saw Twilight’s expression changing from friendly to confused. Trixie’s stomach knotted. She’d barely started and was already losing her audience. She was bombing. She had to get out of here. She idly wondered if she had a spare smoke bomb ready to go. “Just be honest and tell her what’s on your mind,” the little voice whispered. All right, then, Trixie would simply say what was on her mind, just as she always did. She knew how to handle a hostile audience: don’t show weakness, and go on the offensive. She sat up straight, eyes closed, nose held imperiously in the air. “The great and powerful Trixie has given this considerable thought, and she has decided she cannot go along with your ridiculous plan, Twilight Sparkle.” That should satisfy the little voice, Trixie thought. She listened for it, but heard nothing. She couldn’t shake the feeling, though, that somehow, in some way, the little voice had just smacked its imaginary forehead with an imaginary hoof. Twilight’s reaction was both more definite and immediate, as her mouth fell open. “Wait… What?” she sputtered. “My ridiculous plan?” “Yes,” Trixie sniffed. “It’s clearly absurd and will just make fools of us all.” Trixie opened one eye to see Twilight’s face. It was a mixture of confusion, frustration, and anger. She gulped, but pressed on. Backing down now would only be more embarrassing. “Trixie has a reputation, you know.” Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “Would that be your reputation as a showoff or a troublemaker? Or are you just trying to start a new one for being a flake?” Trixie huffed. “There’s no need to be mean about it!” “Trixie, this was your idea!” “Well, from a certain point of view, perhaps.” “Not two hours ago, you were so insistent on doing this that you sent your best friend running away from breakfast in tears!” “Trixie supposes that what she did might be seen in that light, but—” “And I just came back from convincing Cheerilee to let you two do this!” Twilight’s eyes flashed, and she was practically shouting. Trixie was beginning to feel sick. This was everything she’d feared. Why had she listened to the little voice? Why had she tried to be honest? “Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to somehow make this out to be her fault,” the little voice whispered, its tone now openly sarcastic. “Maybe you could have tried to take responsibility for once?” “Trixie, we’re only doing this to try and help Starlight!” “Well, it’s a stupid plan!” “It’s your plan!” “Which you should have seen was stupid!” Trixie rose from her chair and began pacing nervously. “You were just supposed to notice what was bothering Starlight, not actually take my suggestion!” She looked at Twilight, then turned away. “Of all days, why did you choose this as the one time you listened to me?” she said, sadly. Trixie walked to the corner of the library with the strange mirror. She gazed at her reflection as she recomposed herself. For just a moment, she thought she could see another figure in it. Her, but not her. She shook her head. It had to be her imagination, or some trick of the light. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to face Twilight’s wrath. She instead saw Twilight looking up, her brow furrowed, as though she were trying to solve some sort of riddle. At last, her eyes widened and she slapped a hoof to her forehead. She looked back to Trixie. “It was all an act this morning, wasn’t it?” she said. “You coming here and saying the things you said… You were putting on an act for me, weren’t you?” Trixie swallowed and silently nodded. “You saw Starlight’s problem too, and were trying to show me, right?” Again, Trixie nodded. They were suddenly startled by the sound of the library door opening. A cart loaded with a tea service and a platter of cookies came through the doorway, with Spike barely visible behind it as he pushed. He quickly wheeled it over to the sitting nook and laid out the refreshments on the table in front of Twilight. He motioned to Trixie to come back over and have some. As she sat down, he whispered to her. “No tricks, no stories, no excuses, remember?” He filled the tea cups and then laid out a small plate of cookies for each of them. “Keep at it,” he whispered to Trixie. “And try the chocolate macarons. They’re really good.” With that, he beat a hasty retreat from the room. Trixie levitated the teacup to her lips and took a sip. The tea was hot and sweet, with a hint of peppermint. It was tasty, and helped to steady her nerves. She then took a bite of one of the chocolate confections he’d recommended. They were as good as he’d claimed. She decided that, perhaps, she should start taking his advice a bit more seriously. Twilight took a sip of tea, then nodded in approval. “What was it that you were trying to show me, Trixie?” she asked. “That… That there’s something inside of Starlight that she doesn’t want to face.” Trixie took another sip as she considered the question. “Something in her childhood. I don’t really know any more because she never wants to talk about it.” Twilight nodded. “I saw the same thing.” She sighed, then looked Trixie in the eye. “Why didn’t you just tell me about it? Why the performance?” “Because performing is really all that Trixie knows how to do,” she replied. “And because it’s hard for Trixie to talk to you. She thinks you look down on her. She was afraid you wouldn’t take her seriously.” “Oh, Trixie… I don’t look down on you.” “But you do!” Trixie protested. “You think I’m just some silly, uneducated fake magician. An egotistical, homeless failure who’s just a bad influence on your star student.” She set her teacup back onto the table and looked down at her feet. “I can’t even come up with a decent plan to help my own friend.” “Except that I think you did,” Twilight replied firmly. She drained the last of the tea from her cup and then set it down, levitating a strawberry-frosted cookie to her mouth. “And I really hope you’ll agree to go through with it,” she added before taking a bite. “Explain it to me, Twilight,” Trixie said. She looked back up. “How does transforming ourselves into children and playing games help Starlight?” Twilight recounted what had transpired in Starlight’s bedroom that morning. When she’d finished, Trixie looked dubious. “You really think pretending to be a foal will help her?” “What I know is that having her transform herself upstairs and then doing for her what my mom used to do for me helped her to open up,” Twilight replied. “I think that whatever happened to her as a child, she’s never gotten over it. And it’s not just her friend leaving her. There’s way more to it than that.” Trixie nodded. “You mean her parents, don’t you?” “Yeah.” Twilight refilled her teacup and took a sip. “The couple of times I mentioned her mom, she reacted like I’d poked her with a hot iron. Has she told you anything?” Trixie bit her lip. “Trixie tends to avoid talking about parents.” “Of course.” Twilight put the teacup back down. “I can’t change Starlight’s childhood. I wish I could, but that’s impossible.” Twilight thought back to her second confrontation with Starlight, when the renegade unicorn had attempted to change the past and change the lives of Twilight and her friends. “She took me into her own past to show me, and I remember the look on her face when Sunburst left her.” She picked up an almond macaron and nibbled at it. “It was like the earth had just crumbled from under her feet, and she was drowning in the world. I almost wanted to run into her house and tell her that things would be okay.” “Maybe you should have. It would have spared us a lot of trouble.” “Trixie, trust me on this.” Twilight looked deadly serious. “Never try to change the past. It leads to nothing but trouble.” “So, instead, you’re trying to give her… What? An extra childhood?” “More like, a way to confront the things in her childhood that scared her, and have them turn out better this time.” Now it was Twilight’s turn to leave her chair and begin pacing. “She told me that she felt like everyone hated her when she was little. So, let her face the world as a child again, only this time she sees that’s not true.” “But…” Trixie looked flustered. “Having us do Field Day just seems so…” “Frivolous?” “Exactly!” Trixie replied. “Trixie was sure you’d think that, so I never even considered you’d want us to go through with it. So, tell me...” She cocked her head quizzically at Twilight. “Why do you think my silly idea is a good one?” “I guess, because it is so frivolous.” Trixie’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?” Twilight smiled sheepishly. “There’s no stakes to this. It’s just joining a whole lot of kids in a day of playing games. Everyone will be thrown together onto teams, so everyone’s equally awkward and trying to make friends. You play the games, meet the children, eat some cupcakes, and then we all go home at the end of the day. In a way, the setup is almost perfect for what I’d like her to do.” She walked back to the table to have another cookie. “These things are too good. Did you try the chocolate ones?” “Yeah. They are good.” Trixie sighed. “Twilight, tell me the truth. Do you really think I have to do this with her?” Twilight walked to a window and looked out, chewing her cookie thoughtfully. “I do,” she said. “This childhood experience will be different for her because she’ll have a friend she can depend on by her side.” “Can’t you do it with her?” Twilight shook her head. “I’m wrong for this.” She turned to face Trixie. “I’m not just her friend. I’m her teacher. And she still tends to worry about impressing me. She’d never just relax and be herself if I did this with her.” Twilight smiled, but it was a thin and wistful smile. “She needs the friend who’s her equal and who followed her into danger once already.” Twilight walked to Trixie and placed her hoof on her shoulder. “It can’t be me, Trixie. I think this can only work if it’s you.” Trixie turned away, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She let it out and then turned back to Twilight, her expression resolute. “Twilight, I’m afraid that if I do this, I’ll look ridiculous. What if we’re recognized? What will others say? How would we ever explain it?” Twilight was taken aback by how seriously she seemed to be taking this. “Trixie, is there something else you need to tell me? Because I’m getting that sense from you.” “No,” Trixie lied, biting her lip. “It’s like I said. Trixie doesn’t like being humiliated.” “You’ll just be one foal in a crowd of them. You won’t stand out at all. Besides,” Twilight replied, a twinkle in her eye. “If anyone should happen to figure out who you are, you can just say that Princess Twilight Sparkle assigned you a crazy friendship lesson and that you’re just doing what she asked you to. Then it’s all my fault.” Trixie was running out of excuses to try. Worse, she was starting to see Twilight’s point. “What if we mess up and lose?” “What, are you afraid they’ll make fun of you on the playground? That you won’t get picked for a team at recess?” Twilight laughed. “Trixie, there’s no stakes to this. How you do in the events doesn’t matter at all. You’ll be a kid for a couple of days, play wingpony for Starlight, then grow up again. Come in dead last if you want. All that matters is that you have fun. Considering the kinds of stuff that happens in this town, no one is going to think twice about you and Starlight doing this.” Trixie swallowed. “Kids can be cruel, Twilight. What if this goes wrong? What if they treat us really badly?” Twilight tilted her head questioningly. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” “I’m just worried that you seem a little too sure that things will go the way you think they will. On that, Trixie speaks from experience.” Again, Twilight walked to the window that looked out over Ponyville. “I’ve lived here a few years now, Trixie,” she said quietly. “I know what these ponies are like. They won’t be cruel to you. I think this will work because I trust this town.” She turned back toward Trixie. “And because I trust you.” Trixie sighed. “That wasn’t fair. There’s no way I can back out now.” She walked to the window and stood next to the alicorn. They both admired the town in silence. “I still have a bad feeling about this, Twilight.” “Trixie, don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe this isn’t about our feelings.” She turned toward the reluctant magician. “Maybe this should be about Starlight’s feelings.” “You know she’s right,” she heard the little voice whisper. “And you know you want to help your friend.” Trixie kept her gaze fixed ahead, a wan smile playing across her mouth. She knew what would happen when Starlight cast the spell. Only she really understood what a return to childhood would mean for her. But in that moment she decided that failing the first real friend she’d ever had would be worse than the embarrassment to come. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.” She paused a moment, then nodded, as though finally convincing herself. “Okay, I’ll do it.” “Thank you,” Twilight softly replied. They stood side by side in silence, each wondering where this plan would lead them. At last, Trixie spoke. “You know, Trixie’s life was much easier when she had no friends.” She turned to Twilight. “All that ever mattered was the next town up ahead. I didn’t have to care about who I was leaving behind.” Twilight turned to her occasional rival. “Believe it or not, Trixie, I know exactly how that feels.” “Are we all ready for this?” First Trixie and then Twilight nodded as Starlight put a last few touches on her new spell. A few hours had passed since Trixie had made her decision. She was still a little nervous. She knew what was coming, but had no regrets. Besides, she thought, the little voice would never let her hear the end of it if she backed out now. It was by then early afternoon, and they’d all gathered in the library for the casting of the spell. “Okay, then let’s start this crazy plan.” Starlight levitated the scroll in front of her as she rose from her seat and walked to the others by the strange mirror. She stood in front of it, then motioned to Trixie to stand at her side while Twilight retreated a safe distance. Starlight turned to Trixie. “Last chance to call it quits.” Trixie kept her gaze fixed on her reflection. “Do you want to do this?” she asked. Starlight took a deep breath, then answered. “Yes.” “Then I’m with you all the way.” Starlight smiled. “Glad to have you along for the ride,” she said, as she levitated the scroll into the air above them. She closed her eyes, concentrated, then loosed a bolt of magic from her horn. As in the bedroom that morning, it struck the scroll and released the curtain of light that swept down over them. For a moment, they were lost in the howling brilliance, and then the spell dissipated. As her eyes readjusted from the glare, Trixie turned to see how her friend’s transformation had gone, then had to stifle a laugh. There she stood, mane in bunches, her long tail so much shorter. Her eyes seemed so huge, her legs so small. “Oh, Starlight,” she giggled. “You’re adorable.” “Thanks,” Starlight began, still a bit dazzled. She turned toward Trixie. “And you…” Her voice died away as her eyes widened. “Oh, no.” She quickly retrieved the scroll still floating above them and began rereading it. “Something must have gone wrong. Wait a sec while I find it.” Trixie turned to look at Twilight, who was holding a hoof to her mouth in shock. Trixie turned back toward the mirror, then sighed. It was exactly what she’d feared. She was at least half a head shorter than Starlight, her build thin, almost delicate. She didn’t look nine years old. She looked closer to seven. Starlight was still furiously rechecking the spell as Trixie waved a front hoof at her. “Don’t bother,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with your spell. It worked perfectly.” “But, look at you. You’re…” “I’m exactly how I was when I was nine,” Trixie replied. She turned back to her reflection, studying the tiny child looking out at her. “I was a late bloomer,” she explained. “I was always a lot smaller and weaker than the other kids my age. I didn’t really start growing properly till I was almost eleven.” She heard Twilight approaching from behind and turned towards her. “You said it didn’t matter if I lost every race tomorrow. That’s good, because I probably will.” “This is what you were afraid of, wasn’t it?” Twilight said. “Not that you’d be recognized, but that you couldn’t compete with the others.” “I told you, children can be cruel.” Trixie turned back to her reflection, tilting her head first left, then right, finally sticking out her tongue. “I hope you’re right about the kids in this town, Twilight, because otherwise they’ll be laughing their heads off at me.” “Maybe not,” Starlight said, rolling up the scroll and setting it down on a table. “Come out back with me, right now. Both of you.” As Starlight headed for the door, Twilight called out to her. “Can you give us a second, please?” “Sure. I’ll meet you out behind the kitchen.” Starlight trotted out of the library, leaving Trixie and Twilight alone. Twilight moved closer and stood before her, and for the first time, Trixie began to truly appreciate the transformation she’d undergone. Twilight was small for an alicorn, only a bit taller than an average unicorn, but she seemed positively enormous now. So did the library. So did everything. The mirror she stood before seemed to tower up to the ceiling, and the ceiling seemed impossibly high now. She felt small. And she felt a long-forgotten fear begin to grow in the pit of her stomach. “You should have just told me,” Twilight said quietly. “I was embarrassed,” Trixie replied. “You shouldn’t have been. This is nothing to be ashamed of.” “Twilight,” Trixie sighed. “When you grow up either being treated like a baby or like you’re too weak to do anything, you don’t really like to talk about it with others.” Twilight thought a moment, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, I suppose you wouldn’t. Anyway…” She sat down on her haunches in front of Trixie. “I’m sorry I got so mad at you before. I thought you were just being vain.” “It’s all right. You didn’t know.” “Just promise me something. From now on, if anything’s bothering you and you want to talk to me, then just talk to me, okay? No more hiding things. I want us to be friends like that. And I promise, I’ll listen and take you seriously. Cross my heart.” Twilight traced an X over her heart as she finished. Trixie snorted. “Did you pick that up from Starlight or did she get it from you?” “I think we both got it from Pinkie Pie. She has this whole thing she does when she makes a promise, but it starts with crossing your heart.” “Well, I suppose I like it, too.” Trixie crossed her heart. “I promise.” “Would you two come on, already?!” they heard Starlight yell from the kitchen. “We’d better go see what she wants,” said Twilight, as she stood and headed for the door. “Wait for me!” Trixie cried, scampering after her. Out to the great hall, through the kitchen, and out the delivery door, until they stood on the grounds behind the castle. It was on the outskirts of town, the terrain flat and verdant where the enchantment that had created the castle had smoothed it, rougher and wilder further on. Trixie’s wagon lay parked about half a furlong away. “All right,” said Starlight, turning to the others. “Trixie, race me to your wagon and back.” “What’s the point? You’ll beat me easily.” “We’ve got to get used to these bodies, right? Race me.” Starlight scratched a line into the grass. “Come on, on your mark.” Trixie shrugged. “Fine. Whatever.” Trixie moved to Starlight’s side as Starlight glanced over to Twilight.  “Could you call it, please?” she asked. “Sure,” Twilight replied, stepping back. “On your marks…” The two fillies placed their hooves on the line. Starlight leaned over to Trixie. “Just run as fast as you can. No giving up before we start, okay?” “Get set…” They crouched, ready to spring forward. Trixie nodded, her eyes fixed on her wagon. “Go!” In a flash, they were off, galloping across the grounds. The race started as many had for Trixie in the past: she was running as hard as she could, determined to keep up. She knew what would follow. First, her legs would begin to burn, and then soon she’d be fighting for breath. Then the burning would give way to weakness, as what little strength she had ebbed away. Whoever she was racing would pull ahead, until she’d been left in the dust. Her gallop would slow to a canter, then to a trot, and then finally to a walk. If she even made it to the finish line, it would be to jeers and laughter, with some clever wag asking if she’d enjoyed her nap along the way. She knew what to expect. Any second now… They galloped on, now halfway to the wagon. Trixie stole a glance at Starlight, and was surprised to see that they were still neck and neck. Her friend was obviously holding back, trying to make her feel better. In a way, that would only make it worse when her strength left her. Which it would. Any second now… Any second now. Except the burning wasn’t there. If anything, she felt strong. Stronger than she ever had. Again she glanced at Starlight, and for the first time noticed the strain that showed on her face. She wasn’t holding back. She wasn’t trying to be kind. She was running as hard as she could, but they were still neck and neck, and now they had almost reached the wagon. They both aimed for the right side and began to circle around to the left. And it was then that Trixie realized that she wasn’t tiring. She wasn’t slowing. She wasn’t falling behind. For the first time in her life, she could see something at the finish line that she never had: a chance to finally win. There was a moment of disbelief, one that that gave way to unbridled joy. As the two fillies arced around the wagon and began the lap home, Trixie felt as though she were running toward a better world. She glanced to the side, and saw her wagon as if for the first time. How the bright and rich was its purple paint, and how its gold stars seemed to shine in the sun. It was her home, her fortress, her magic castle. It seemed so small this morning, but now it looked huge. It was beautiful. Everything was beautiful. An instant later, they’d passed it, and now they were headed back toward Twilight. She seemed excited, jumping up and down and shouting in a way that no storybook princess ever should. Typical, awkward, stupidly sincere Twilight. She was cheering. For who? Probably Starlight. Of course for Starlight. Who else would she want to win? Who else but her student? Who else but her friend? For a moment, Trixie wished that she’d cheer for her, but only for a moment. She didn’t need cheers to make her feel strong now. She would win this for her own sake. An almost manic smile spread across her face as she dashed for the finish. They were halfway back now, the race still even. How much time had passed since they’d started? A few seconds? Minutes? Everything had seemed to slow down, and Trixie felt as if she could see every detail of the world. How the sun was shining, every puffy cloud in the sky, every blade of grass on the ground she raced across. In the moment when all four of her hooves were off the ground, she felt as if she were flying. Who needed teleportation? She would run across the world. She would soar. “You can do this,” she heard the little voice whisper. Yes. Yes, she could. “I can do this!” the little voice said, as the finish line approached. “I can do this!” Trixie gasped, as she dug down into herself and somehow found a tiny bit more strength, and ran a tiny bit faster. She crossed the finish line, not even bothering to see if Starlight was still at her side. Twilight was still cheering and shouting, but Trixie didn’t even hear it. She tried to slow, only to trip and tumble over onto the grass. She ended up on her back, staring up at the sky, wondering how she’d never noticed how blue and high it seemed. She was laughing when Twilight and Starlight ran over to her. “Are you all right?” Twilight asked worriedly. “You didn’t twist your leg, did you?” “I’m fine,” Trixie gasped. She looked over to Starlight, who was still panting and gasping for breath. “Please say that you didn’t let me win.” She glanced at Twilight. “Did I win?” “It was close,” said Twilight. “Really, really close, but maybe you won. By a nose. Or a horn.” “I’ll say she won,” Starlight gasped, rolling down onto the ground next to Trixie. “That was a good race.” The two fillies lay there a moment, catching their breath, before Trixie turned to her friend. “How was I able to run like that? I was never this strong when I was nine.” “Simple,” Starlight replied, still panting and looking up at the sky. “You’re not nine.” “But…” “Not an age spell, remember?” Starlight turned to Trixie. “Transformation. We look like we did when we were foals, but we’re still grown-ups.” Starlight sat up and glanced over to Twilight. “Can you get us something to drink, please? I’m really thirsty now.” “Sure, sure.” Twilight turned toward the kitchen door, then back again. “You were both great. It was really exciting.” “Well,” said Trixie, “sorry I beat Starlight. No hard feelings, right?” Twilight looked confused. “Why should you be sorry about that?” “I saw you cheering for her. I know you wanted her to win.” Twilight’s mouth fell open, then she stifled a laugh. “Is that what you thought I was doing? Didn’t you hear me?” “No,” Trixie replied. “I kind of had other things on my mind.” Twilight walked to Trixie. “I wasn’t cheering for Starlight, you dope,” she said as she playfully tapped Trixie’s forehead. Starlight immediately turned toward her teacher, a hurt look on her face. Twilight held up a hoof before she could say anything. “I was cheering for both of you.” Shaking her head and laughing to herself, she trotted off back inside. Starlight turned back to Trixie, who still lay on her back. “We technically don’t have children’s bodies. It’s more like we have adult bodies that are kind of shrunk down. It’s complicated. There’s stuff like bone and muscle density to consider, but the point is that this…” She waved a hoof to indicate their current forms. “...is kind of an artistic interpretation of us as kids. And because of that, I had to take some creative license.” “Creative how?” “I kind of had to make a call on how strong we should be. If I didn’t add a limiter to the spell, we’d end up much stronger than any child should. So, I made it so that we’d each have the strength and speed of an average nine-year-old unicorn.” “But I’m still small,” Trixie said. “No, you look small. You still have the strength and speed of an average nine-year-old.” A huge grin spread across Trixie’s face. “You gave me super speed!” “No, I gave you totally average speed.” Trixie held up her front hooves in the air in front of her, as though framing a marquee that only she could see. “Super speed!” she shouted. Starlight giggled. “Okay, sure thing, Filli-Second. You have super speed.” As Trixie sat up and faced Starlight, her grin faded slightly. “This isn’t cheating, right? Because I don’t think Twilight will let us get away with that.” “No,” said Starlight, shaking her head. “We won’t have an advantage at all. Other kids will be faster than us, and others will be slower. We’ll both be totally average. You just won’t have a handicap now.” They heard the kitchen door open and turned to see Twilight approaching, a tray with bottled apple juice levitating in front of her. “There we go,” said Starlight as she stood up. “Just what I need right now.” Trixie followed suit and both of the little unicorns trotted over to get their drinks. “So, feeling better about tomorrow, Trixie?” Twilight asked as she opened the bottles for them. “Yes,” Trixie replied as she levitated a drink to her lips. She took a long sip, marveling at how cold and sweet it seemed. “I think I might do all right.” “You think you’ll do all right?” Twilight laughed. “I should mark my calendar. This is a historic day. The great and powerful Trixie isn’t absolutely sure of herself about something.” Trixie blushed and smiled, turning her gaze downward. “Well,” she said, “maybe today is a day for changes.” The rest of the day passed in a pleasant blur. Starlight and Trixie found that their smaller forms made the familiar places in the castle seem new and exciting. They explored its crystal corridors, and shrieked and ran giggling from the basement levels that still held a frightening number of spiders that were left over from one of Starlight’s past misadventures. They may have still been adults in mind, but it was becoming easier and easier to fall into childish behavior. At dinner, they chattered excitedly about what the next day’s events would be like, and after dinner, Starlight insisted that they play her beloved Dragon Pit game in the library. Even Twilight was cajoled to join in, and together they sent their pieces up and down the paperboard volcano in search of the dragon’s treasure. They all laughed and held their breath each time the large marble lava ball emerged from the volcano’s peak and threatened to knock their pieces down the mountain. It was homey and warm in a way that Trixie hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. At last, when the clock on the wall showed that it was 9 o’clock, Twilight suggested that they might get ready for bed. They protested that they were adults and didn’t have to go to sleep so early, but the day had been long and tiring, and they were beginning to feel it. Besides, they all had to get up early in the morning. At last, grumbling, the two fillies headed upstairs to their rooms. Trixie washed her face, brushed her teeth, then said goodnight to Starlight and Twilight before finally climbing into bed. She tried to read a novel she’d borrowed from the library downstairs, but somehow couldn’t concentrate. She finally abandoned it after realizing she was just trying to read the same paragraph over and over. Her horn glowed as she opened the lamp case above her bed, releasing most of the fireflies inside that provided the light. Just a few remained to serve as a nightlight. She settled down under the covers and tried to fall asleep. She couldn’t. It felt impossible. She was tired, but the bed felt too big. The room felt too big. And the coming day felt too big for her to possibly handle. There, in the darkness, old fears began to whisper in her brain. She felt small and alone. But then she realized that she didn’t need to be alone. She climbed out of bed, levitating her pillow to carry with her as she quietly opened the door. As she crept out into the dim hallway, she thought she could hear Twilight down in the kitchen. Probably making herself a late night cup of tea, or finishing up her preparations for Field Day in the morning. And for a moment, she felt an almost dizzying sense of nostalgia. She could half-recall a distant memory of sneaking out of bed at night when she was small and hearing her parents downstairs. It made her feel happy and sad. She found Starlight’s room in the darkness and cautiously knocked. There was a moment’s hesitation, and then the door softly opened. There stood Starlight, her hair unbound and playing around her neck. She looked at Trixie standing there with her pillow floating next to her, then smiled and nodded as she opened the door wider. “Can’t sleep either, huh?” she said as Trixie quickly walked in and closed the door behind her. “Are we having a slumber party now?” “Maybe we should try to concentrate on the slumber part,” said Trixie as she floated her pillow onto the bed next to Starlight’s. “Probably a good idea,” Starlight replied, as she climbed into bed and moved over to make room for her companion. Trixie climbed in next to her and drew the covers up over them. “Apparently, I’m full of good ideas today,” Trixie joked. “It had to happen sooner or later.” Trixie giggled, then stared silently up at the ceiling that was barely visible in the gloom. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” she asked. “No idea,” Starlight replied, also looking up. Her bed lamp too glowed softly, a few fireflies flitting around in the glass. “But I’m tired of always feeling like an outsider. If Twilight’s right and I really am just hung up on what happened when I was little, I want to do something about it.” “Well, I don’t know how well we’ll do, but you won’t be alone,” Trixie said softly. Starlight turned her head and seemed to study Trixie’s face. Trixie kept silent a moment, then finally turned to face her friend as well. “Why are you staring at me?” “Because you just seem different now. Ever since the race this afternoon.” “Do I?” Trixie asked. “Yes,” said Starlight as she propped herself up on an elbow. “You’re talking differently and acting differently. You’re not doing that… That thing you do.” “What?” “You know, ‘Trixie says this’ and ‘Trixie says that’. That was your thing. And since when aren’t you totally sure about something?” Trixie laughed, then looked thoughtful. “Would you like me to tell you a bedtime story? It’s a good one, but it’s a little sad.” Starlight tilted her head questioningly. “Sure, I guess.” “Well, then lie down and I’ll tell you about the little glass unicorn.” Starlight frowned, then lay back. They both looked up at the lamp, glowing in the darkness. “Once upon a time,” Trixie began, “there was a little unicorn. And she was very, very little. Smaller and weaker than the other children. She couldn’t run fast and couldn’t keep up. Some of the children laughed at her, but even worse, most of the children just didn’t even notice she was there. And that made her sad, but she had a mother and father who loved her very much, and they told her that there was something special about her, and that one day she could show it to the world.” “Did the little unicorn have a blue coat and white mane?” Starlight asked with a smile. “She might have. May I go on?” “Please.” Trixie stared at the lamp, her eyes fixed on something far in the past. “One day,” she continued, “her parents told her that she’d passed a test, that she may have been small, but she was very magical. She could go to a marvelous school far away, and there she would learn to show the world how special she was.” Trixie smiled. “They were so proud of her, and promised to come visit as soon as they could. And so the little unicorn rode a train for the first time that carried her to a magical place called Canterlot.” Starlight turned her head to look at Trixie’s face. She seemed almost hypnotized, reciting a story she’d probably told herself many times. “In Canterlot, the little unicorn met her teacher. She was young and pretty, and gave the little unicorn an extra bit of love to help her be strong. And it worked. The little unicorn began to learn new things, things she couldn’t wait to show others. Most of all to her parents, who were coming to visit soon.” Trixie swallowed, and in the dim light, Starlight saw a tear form in her eye. “Then, one day, the pretty teacher called the little unicorn aside, and had awful news. Her parents had died, and she would never see them again. The little unicorn cried and cried, because her parents were her world.” The tear slipped down her cheek. Trixie was silent a moment, then carried on. “Now, the little unicorn wasn’t alone. She had an auntie to take her in, and her auntie loved her very much.” She paused. “She loved her too much.” She turned to Starlight. “You see, she had just lost her sister and her brother-in-law. All she had left was her niece, and her niece was so small and frail. Too weak to be so far away at a dangerous school in a strange city.” Starlight said nothing. Trixie wiped the tear away as she looked back up at the lamp. “The little unicorn came home from her school so that her auntie could keep her safe. And so she did. Safe from other children, safe from anything that could hurt her. Safe from learning magic.” Trixie sighed. “Her aunt, you see, was sure that the little unicorn was made of glass, and that the world was so hard that it would shatter her if she let it. And eventually, the little unicorn came to believe it, too.” “But she wasn’t glass, was she?” Starlight asked. “No,” Trixie replied. “But she didn’t know that, yet. Anyway, now comes the best part. Because she still wanted the world to see her, and found another way. She couldn’t learn real magic on her own, but she could do stage magic. She could impress others with tricks. She could give others a great show.” Trixie smiled at the memory. “She prepared, but as the day of her first performance drew near, she got scared. Because she was made of glass, remember? She was afraid that she’d fail, and that she’d be shattered.” She turned her gaze back to Starlight. “And that’s when she had an idea. Maybe she was glass, but what if she could imagine a pony who wasn’t? Someone she could pretend to be, just to put on her show. A pony who wasn’t small and weak.” “One who was great and powerful…” whispered Starlight. Trixie nodded and laughed softly, embarrassed. “It seems silly, but it worked. That’s how Trixie was born.” “So, Trixie is just…” “She was a mask the little unicorn could wear. See, the little unicorn was frightened of others, but the great and powerful Trixie could handle any crowd. The little unicorn was always unsure of herself, but the great and powerful Trixie never was. She could do absolutely anything she set her mind to, and didn’t have to care about anyone else. She was another pony, one that was made of diamond, not glass.” “Another pony…” mused Starlight. A thought struck her. “Is that why you talked about her the way you did? Like she was a different pony than you?” Trixie shrugged, then continued her story. “At first, she would just pretend to be Trixie to do her shows. But then she realized that she liked being Trixie. It was easier to be Trixie. And so, more and more, the little unicorn just pretended to be her, until she was pretending all the time. The little unicorn could step back and let Trixie handle the world, until she just became a little voice that kept her from going too far.” Starlight studied her friend’s face. It was like seeing someone familiar, and yet totally different. “Until today?” Starlight asked. Trixie nodded. “There was a moment during the race when the little unicorn saw the world differently,” she said. “She saw a world where she didn’t need to be Trixie, and that the world wasn’t as hard as she’d thought.” She laughed softly. “So, she gave Trixie a couple of days off. Goodness knows, she’s earned it.” She rolled over and closed her eyes. “The end. Time for bed.” “Wait,” said Starlight. Trixie rolled back over towards her friend. “What was her name?” “Who?” “The little glass unicorn. What’s her name?” Trixie smiled. “Lulamoon,” she replied. “Lulamoon…” Starlight repeated. “It’s pretty.” “Thank you.” Starlight held out a hoof. Lulamoon hesitated, then gingerly held out her own. They softly touched them together, and unlike the hug earlier that day, Starlight felt no awkwardness or discomfort in her friend. “Hello, Lulamoon. My name is Starlight Glimmer. I’m glad I could finally meet you.”