//------------------------------// // Trixie and Thesis // Story: Nightmares Yet to Come // by Detectivefish //------------------------------// “Okay,” Trixie declared, “I can do this.” She was Dame Trixie Lulamoon. Knight of Equestria, Bearer of the Element of Magic. Former student to Princess Luna, granddaughter of the legendary Quatermoon, friend to the five most honourable mares in all Equestria. And she was in trouble. It was true that Trixie liked foals. She was good with them. They made the best audience for her shows because they whole-heartedly accepted her act. They were amazed by her deeds and tricks, regardless of how complicated they might have been. But… the dark thoughts rose up in her memory, being good with foals wasn’t the same as dealing with them. Even Dinky, her part-time student and best assistant ever, could make her fold like a wet towel just by applying the time honored tradition of looking ever-so-slightly sad… with those pressed ears and giant, quivering eyes and that particularly evil tremor in her voice. (Not that she did that very often. Probably. Trixie was a good eighty-five percent sure Dinky did not do it on purpose. Though she wasn’t willing to rule out the idea that Dinky was learning to do so. Over the last few months the little unicorn had shown a few negative traits Trixie hadn’t noticed before, and she was sure they hadn’t been there before that.) And sitting there, in her sitting room, was a foal. One she was supposed to be looking after. There had been a list of some kind, which she’d skimmed. Some issues about problems with magic, and a note on unusual eating habits, but nothing Trixie felt she wouldn’t be able to overcome. Maybe. “Hey,” she said, on entering, “so I’ve got some work to deal with, but after that, I’ll try and whip up some lunch. How’s that sound?” “Okay,” Thesis said, before she went back to looking at the book she was reading. So, with one glance back at the foal, Trixie walked through to her office, feeling like she’d been caught flat-hoofed. Mercifully, there wasn’t much work for her to do, with Hearths’ Warming a few weeks away, most ponies were not feeling the urge to go out and write forms. In fact, pretty much everything seemed to be slowing down. Even the weather reports, usually the biggest day-to-day cause for the Dread Paperwork, were reporting smooth sailing. Which, Trixie had to remind herself, was a good thing. Utterly, utterly, soul-crushingly dull, but good. Thesis had been reading a book she’d found (Golem Related Tragedies of History), when she smelt an odd smell, and heard an odd noise. Clanging, followed by angry muttering coming from the direction of the kitchen. It was only after several minutes of this she decided it was probably worth investigating whatever was going on. Leaving the book and moving off the sofa, she trotted out into the hallway, then along to the kitchen, the smell getting stronger as she went. The kitchen itself seemed blurry, and as she entered it she heard Trixie’s muttering increase. “Uh,” she said, “what are you doing?” At that, Trixie went perfectly still, if only for an instant. “Hey,” she said, carefully. “I’m… ah, trying to make dinner. Problem is it’s been a while since I’ve had to cook for more than just myself, and… well…” she coughed, which quickly turned out not to be a good idea with the air as it was. “It’s not going so great.” She admitted. “Still, I am the Great and Powerful Trixie, and I shall not be defeated by some vegetables.” Thesis looked over at what she’d been making, then at Trixie’s determined smile. “What were you trying to make?” she asked. “Oh, well, I felt you deserved something special, and exotic… which as it turns out is difficult because I don’t have anything particularly special or exotic, so it’s mostly Whatever I Can Whip-Up a la Trixie.” “Alright,” Thesis said. Trixie gave her an odd look at that, then went back to what she was doing. Eventually, she did indeed manage to work together something which she felt was pretty good, if she said so herself (and as a matter of fact, she did say so). She noted Thesis seemed to be enjoying it as well, at the rate she was devouring it. “So, what do you want to do tomorrow?” she asked, after the silence became unbearable. The poor foal practically jumped at that. “Well, normally, on weekdays, my sister and I go outside to practice magic.” Trixie frowned at the word “sister”, if only for a moment before she forced herself to look more neutral. She also found herself thinking about Cheerilee, and how the mulberry coloured schoolteacher would take learning that there was a foal in town technically missing school. None of the images associated with that were pleasant. Many of them seemed to revolve around Cheerilee, inexplicably the size of a building, her eyes glowing a horrific red, and focused entirely on Trixie. Still, she thought to herself, it was almost Hearths’ Warming. Even Cheerilee probably relaxed her attitudes at that time of year. Hopefully. She made a mental note to try and get the foal enrolled in a way that wouldn’t end with her on the receiving end of a Severe Talking To from her friend. “Learning magic, eh?” she asked. “Knowing your… sister, I’m guessing that must’ve been dull.” Thesis nudged her food gingerly. “M-maybe.” Trixie tried not to grin. “Ah, no matter. Tomorrow, I, the Great and Powerful Trixie, shall show you magic you’ve never seen.” Thesis gave her an odd look. “I’m only a month old. I’ve not really seen any magic.” “Good point.” Trixie admitted. “So what you said was pointless.” Trixie stared across the table at the foal, who stared right back at her, an utterly malice-free expression on her face. “Just eat your dinner,” she cautioned. Thesis did so, as Trixie shook her head. Somepony had been spending too much time around her “sister”. Either that or she’d somehow inherited more of Trixie’s traits than just her eating habits. That was probably something else to watch out for. Far from Ponyville, far from Canterlot, hundreds of miles to the east, near the tip of Equestria’s eastern coast, lay the city (and province) of Manehatten, probably the most populated city in all Equestria, probably beyond. It was a far cry from either Canterlot or Ponyville, but it was not without its charms all the same (provided, of course, you knew what you were getting into by going). Presently, as it was the middle of winter, it was grey. And raining. Huge, grey clouds hung over the city, pouring out slug-sized drops of water, as they made the grey parts of the city look even darker and gloomier. Somehow, neither factor did anything to the average inhabitant’s attitude to one another. One such pony was bustling through the streets, either weaving her way through the crowds, or in the time-honoured tradition of just trying to walk straight through them, ignoring the annoyed calls of her fellow pony. Eventually, the mare came to her destination, an unremarkable diner, of garish colouring and suspicious smell, and went in, making her way to one of the many bright red booths lining the walls, removed the saddlebags she was carrying and sat down. “Hey.” She remarked, casually, to the pony opposite. Said pony was a pegasus, of a pale blue colour, with gold eyes matching her two-toned gold mane. Next to her was sat a pony who chose to conceal her appearance beneath a nondescript brown hood, the sort of attempt at anonymity that naturally drew anypony’s attention immediately. By the shape of the hood, they were clearly a unicorn, with a yellow coat plainly evident even in the shadows of her hood. “Hey,” the pegasus grunted back. “You said you had a job.” The pony she was addressing was an earth pony mare, with a dark orange coat, brown eyes and a mildly genial look about herself. “And I do, I do. Don’cha trust me, Dusty?” The pegasus looked to her friend, then back. She snorted derisively. “Let’s hear what you’ve got for us, first, Orange.” Orange grinned at that. “Well, it’s pretty easy, they just want to find a missing pony.” “Find a missing pony.” The unicorn repeated. “We’re not private investigators.” “I know, Sunset,” Orange said, ignoring the fierce glower that earned her. “You wanna say my name a little louder?” the mare hissed, “see how fun that gets.” Orange winced a little at that. “Sorry. It’s just… the pony who contacted me said they heard about you two, and figured you were the best for the job. Better than any PI.” “You trying to butter us up?” the pegasus asked. “Nah, Lightning. If I was trying to butter you up, you’d know. I’m not a butter sort’a pony.” “Except when you really want something,” the unicorn muttered. “So… missing pony, mysterious employer,” Lightning Dust mused. “So… why should we do this?” “Kindness of your own hearts?” Orange shrugged, earning another snort from Lightning Dust. “It’d be a big help?” As she spoke, she fished in her saddlebags, “but, uh, just so’s you know, this is the price they were offering to pay.” She removed a small piece of paper from the folds of her cloak, and pushed it across the table. Lightning Dust stared at it blankly. After a few seconds more her partner gently slid the paper away from her. Once she did, Sunset's jaw clenched. “That’s a lot of money…” Lightning Dust muttered. “That’s a lot a lot of money…” her partner whispered, nodding dumbly. The two ponies looked at one another. Neither had lived as long as they had without being reasonably cautious, and knew not to trust the amount they were being offered. In their experience, nopony ever handed anything out for free, especially to ponies like them. Lightning turned back to Orange. “What’s the catch?” “No catch,” Orange said, “‘least not that I heard. But they did kinda want this pony found before summer.” There was a long silence as the earth pony absently traced a hoof across the table. “... and?” Sunset asked. “And, ah… they ain’t been seen in a coupl’a years…” Sunset facehoofed. “There’s a catch…” she groaned. Lightning Dust murmured. “I dunno, Bitty. This sounds like… like it’s beyond us. I mean, Shimmy and I are good.” She glanced sideways at her partner, “brilliant even, but this just sounds… how do I put this? ‘Completely impossible’. You want a pony found, with no idea where she is or where’s she’s been for the last several years. Have you got anything for us?” “Only thing we’ve got is her picture.” Orange said, sliding a picture across the table. Lightning looked at it, then to the orange earth pony. “Oh, that’ll help.” She said dryly, “at least we know what she looks like. That makes it so much easier.” Her partner was still staring at the note, biting her lip in her concentration. “Lighting?” “Yeah?” Sunset leaned in and whispered something. Lightning’s entire posture changed at that. She smiled an insincere smile at Orange, one that in no way hid her irritation and reluctance. “I’m suddenly very interested in your proposal.” Trixie muttered furiously under her breath. Purple and green spots danced in front of her vision, blocking out everything else. “Sorry,” she heard Thesis squeak in alarm. “No, no,” Trixie quickly said, “it’s… well, it’s nopony’s fault.” Technically speaking, the annoying part of her mind spoke up, she was to blame. After some breakfast, she’d declared she would teach Thesis some real magic, not just pointless messing around with fruit. But first she’d asked the foal to light up her horn, much as she had with Dinky and Snails before her, so that she could see how far along she was with her magic. And it had lit up, alright. She hadn’t been expecting much, if the most she could do was telekinesis. So when there’s been a flash like a firework going off, she was pretty surprised. Once again, the treacherous part of her mind resurfaced, helpfully pointing out that there had been a carefully written note from a certain somepony saying Thesis had problems with magic. A note, it further pointed out, that Trixie had ignored and tossed in the nearest trash can. A note which Trixie had taken to mean she occasionally cast the wrong spell, or broke stuff she held, like (just off the top of her head) Dinky occasionally did. Not light up like the sun. She felt a small stab of relief she hadn’t been using her magic sight at the time. The last time she’d used that near an alicorn using magic, she’d been blind for days afterward. “I think,” she said carefully, “we can assume your magic is developing healthily. So that allows us to move on to the actual teaching. So I suppose I should ask first what magic you do know?” “Just telekinesis,” Thesis murmured. “It’s all my sister teaches me. Lifting apples, moving apples, catching apples when she throws them…” Trixie rubbed a hoof against her chin. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess you’re bored of apples.” “I’m sick of apples,” Thesis declared, with all the force she could muster. “But I don’t wanna learn stuff like splitting myself in two. That was creepy. I don’t have to learn that, do I?” Trixie blinked at that. It took a moment for her to figure out Thesis was probably talking about Princess Luna’s ability to become her own crowd, something that did take some getting used to. “Uh, no,” she ventured, “I think maybe we’ll start off with something nice and safe and harmless, but still fun!” she felt the need to add. She glanced about the sitting room, remembering what had happened the last time she’d been teaching foals in her residency. Which had involved a near-miss with her fireworks, and her entire house. She could see what she had to do coming, much as though she wished she didn’t. “Outside,” she added a moment later, fighting down the urge to add “far away from any windows.” “Okay,” Trixie admitted once they were outside and safely away from anything remotely breakable (or, hopefully, flammable), “I feel, before we start, I should admit most of my specialty lies in illusions. Just letting you know. There are a few not related to illusions I know, here and there, but… most of them aren’t especially useful for somepony your age.” “Oh,” Thesis said, calmly. She didn’t sound disappointed, at least. Trixie sighed. “Look, honestly? It’s not a big deal. You shouldn’t be so focused on magic right now. You should just be spending time with other foals your age, having fun. Or trying to, at any rate.” The filly stared blankly at her. “Your sister didn’t say anything about this, did she?” Thesis just shook her head. Trixie sighed again, and muttered under her breath. “Well, for now, I suppose I could show you a few tricks I’ve got up my sleeves. We’re out here, we might as well do something, unless you want to sit inside all day again?” “No!” Thesis blurted, before quickly looking down at her hooves, “I mean, no. I’d rather stay out here.” Well, that settled that, Trixie thought. She would have rather stayed indoors, near the fire while under a nice, snuggly warm blanket. It wasn’t that she hated winter, and the horrible freezing cold that came with it, she just… didn’t like it as much as certain other seasons. The Twelvetide and Hearth’s Warming and the Longest Night, she liked, but the weather was another matter. It was hard to focus on good cheer when it was approaching below zero (or felt like it, at any rate). Not, admittedly, that the foal in front of her seemed to notice much. Perhaps it was just a part of her alicorn nature, but there was something altogether not right about a foal standing up to her hocks in snow without even so much as saying she was cold. But she had said they would practice outside, and she wasn’t about to go back on that now that they were actually out there. “Alright then,” Trixie smiled, and almost by reflex found herself saying “now, watch in awe!” Far from Ponyville, and Trixie, and her various issues, in the mountains on the borders of Equestria, two weary travellers made their way through the threshold of Queen Celestia’s makeshift castle. One was a zebra, her black and white fur showing the occasional signs of having been burnt. The other, a pegasus, showed slightly less signs of physical damage, but his entire appearance was that of someone who’d been pushed over their limits. Despite this, as Kindle marched toward his queen’s throne, he forced himself to look resolute and determined, willing his aching body to keep him standing just a little longer. If Celestia gave any indication of noticing his arrival, she gave no signal. But he knew she would be thankful for his and Zecora’s service. “My queen,” he said, trying not to let the weariness in his voice show, “I am glad to report that our mission was a success.” At that, Celestia blinked, as good as shouting from her. “You found Spellhold?” she declared. “Indeed,” Kindle smiled, “exactly where the… informant said it would be.” “Given the length of your absence,” Celestia said, “I would assume there was some… dramatics involved?” Kindle hesitated at the gaze of his queen. He somewhat hoped Zecora would speak up, say something in that odd way of hers, but the zebra remained eerily quiet. “Not at all, my queen. Well,” he began, as his gaze accidentally met with Her Highness, “nothing to be truly concerned about. Zecora and I felt the need to explore the rest of the great library, to make sure there were no… surprises left in store.” “And were there?” she asked. “None,” Kindle responded, “save for one thing…” He fished into his satchel, removing a small, rolled up scroll. Almost as he did, it was wrapped in Celestia’s magic, the true queen of Equestria examining it but momentarily. Celestia scowled at it, before her gaze lightened, turning back to Kindle. “And what of the library itself?” “It, and all the texts contained within appear to be intact, though I am admittedly no expert.” “So, it is secure?” Celestia asked. Kindle nodded. “Good,” was her response, and despite his weariness, Kindle felt his spirits lift. “Well done, Kindle.” At this, he blinked. She wasn’t thanking Zecora, who had been working for Celestia’s glory even before she had escaped Luna’s treason. He glanced toward Zecora, and only then did he realise why. It was difficult thanking someone who had fallen asleep on their hooves. Kindle frowned slightly at that, in concern for his fellow servant. As he did, the familiar golden glow of Corona’s magic wrapped around her, and she vanished. He looked back up toward Celestia’s throne. “Should I be concerned as to Zecora’s state?” she asked. “I apologise, highness,” Kindle bowed as much as he could, “Zecora has…” The words died in his throat, especially once he looked at Celestia’s face again. “It’s not for me to say.” Celestia did not appear taken with this explanation. “Kindle,” she said, a frosty edge to her voice, “if I must demand an explanation…” Kindle, not one for self-consciousness, found himself coughing. “Zecora exerted herself strenuously on our outing, perhaps more than was necessary.” “Just Zecora?” Celestia asked, and later Kindle would swear to himself she couldn’t have just smirked. There was no possibility one such as her could descend to such a level. “I aim only to serve to the best of my abilities,” Kindle said, carefully. “But that’s not what puts you so ill at ease, is it now?” His queen replied. “It is not my place to say… as I said, I but serve.” “And you serve ably, Kindle,” Celestia said. It was all Kindle could do not to grin like an absolute maniac at that. “Now tell me, what troubles you?” Long seconds passed, as Kindle tried to get the words out. “This… situation, Highness. A deal with a mysterious stranger who is undeniably trying to manipulate you for their own ends.” Celestia tensed, “not that they will succeed, of course. But the fact they would try at all...” There was silence, or as near as could be managed in Celestia’s castle. “I understand your concerns, Kindle. Rest assured, though, I am fully prepared for any trap our supposed benefactor may attempt to set. And should by some miracle they manage to catch me…” she allowed herself a small smile, “they would soon regret it.” After the brief demonstration of some of her less flashy spells, which had received polite (if restrained) applause from Thesis, she had decided to move onto a more important subject. It had been percolating in the back of her mind as she had been… well, showing off, and once she was done she realised she felt strongly on the fact. Thesis did not know what fun was. And as such Trixie felt it was her duty, neigh her responsibility as a professional hero of Equestria if nothing else, to show her some of the basics. “Are you watching carefully?” she asked, trying to fight her grin down, as she took some of the snow still remaining. As Thesis stared intently, she began rolling it together, forming a ball. Then she formed another, and another. “This is a snowball,” she declared. Thesis just stared warily at it. “And what does it do?” the foal asked. It took Trixie a moment to recover from that question, and she liked to think it was a very smooth recovery. “I’m so glad you asked…” Trixie said, as her magic wrapped around one. “Pay close attention now…” With a deft flick, she aimed the ball for Thesis’s mid-section. It sailed through the air, impacting almost silently against the filly’s fur, but the surprise still made her yelp in alarm. “What was that for?” she squeaked, and for a moment Trixie felt like an utter monster. “That’s what you do with snowballs. You throw them.” Thesis blinked. “You… make them, then… throw them?” “Yes. For fun.” Thesis stared at the snow around her for long moments. “Okay,” she remarked, in a way that suggested she hadn’t really got the idea. Slowly, with great effort she began trying to gather together some snow herself. Soon enough, she’d managed to make two or three, glancing carefully at Trixie as she went (and Trixie could’ve sworn she saw distrust in the foal’s eyes. She really hoped that was just her imagination acting up again). With great care, she moved one aside, and closed her eyes. Her horn lit up, and the small snowball hovered into the air. Then, with a sudden burst it shot toward Trixie, hitting her on the cheek. “Sorry, sorry!” Thesis squeaked instantly. “It’s alright,” Trixie quickly said, “it’s just snow. You’re catching on quick.” The filly smiled nervously at that. “So… what do we do now?” “Well…” Trixie tried to look as innocent as she could manage as she lifted several more about her head, “I throw these at you, you try and throw yours at me. Shall we?” “I think that went pretty well,” Trixie grinned, as the two marched back to her residency. “Don’t you?” Thesis grinned at her, as she trotted behind Trixie. She’d came around to the whole idea of a snowball fight pretty quickly. But eventually Trixie had decided it was too cold, even with her cape keeping her warm, for them to stay out there much longer. Luckily, then, that her residency was so nice and warm. Or at the very least, it would be once she got a fire going. So naturally, she wasn’t even halfway toward setting the logs in the fireplace, having already gotten Thesis under a blanket, before there was somepony at the door. “Couldn’t have waited just two minutes…” Trixie sighed. As it turned out, the pony at the door was Ditzy, out and about on her rounds. “Mail for you, representative.” She declared, with her usual good cheer. “How’s everything going?” “So far?” Trixie said, as she took her letters, “good, fine.” “You worried it’s all going to go hideously wrong?” Ditzy asked. Trixie looked back, to make sure there was nopony listening in, and leaned in toward her friend. “Maybe, a little.” Ditzy’s expression didn’t change. “Okay, entirely.” Trixie admitted. “Don’t be.” Ditzy said. “You spend all your time worrying about whether things will go wrong, something almost certainly will.” “I hope that’s not the voice of experience talking.” Ditzy’s smile turned forcibly awkward, and Trixie recalled that barely even a few months ago, Ditzy’s worry about Dinky’s future had led to an unfortunate incident, which had nearly ended with a very angry Cheerilee having a stern talk with her. “Maybe, a little.” Ditzy said, quietly. “But it’s still true. You just do the best you can for them, and hope it’s enough. Speaking of worrying…” She glanced around. “You are going to enrol her in school, right? Before Cheerilee finds out?” Trixie hemmed and hawed. “I guess I should, it’s just…” Ditzy’s expression turned sharp. “Just what, Trixie?” “You don’t suppose Cheerilee would at least let me wait until Hearth’s Warming is over, do you?” Ditzy looked uncertain. “I… don’t think so, Trixie.” “No,” Trixie sighed, “no, I suppose she wouldn’t.” After a moment’s pause, Ditzy hugged her. “You looked like you could use a hug,” she smiled, before turning to leave. Before Trixie could shut the door, she stopped. “Oh, by the way, should I tell Dinky that her Wednesday afternoons with you are on hold?” “What?” Trixie asked, “wh-… oh, because of Thesis?” She had noted, during the Incident of Many Foals some months back, that her number one assistant did get a little (okay, more than a little) jealous of anypony else hogging her attention, and now with a foal hanging around… Trixie could see it. Dinky, sitting there, ears pressed flat, eyes trembling and lip quivering, barely able to ask if she’d somehow done something wrong, and Trixie would feel like a monster among monsters, and then somehow, all Tartarus would inevitably break loose… “Dinky does seem to not want to share you.” Ditzy said, carefully. “And if that’s a problem…” “It’s no problem.” Trixie declared, “there is enough of me to share. And besides, I’m pretty sure I know what went wrong last time.” Ditzy eyed her sceptically. “Pretty sure?” she repeated. “Pretty sure.” Trixie affirmed. “Okay!” Trixie declared, as she entered the room, carrying two bowls of something Thesis couldn’t identify, “lunch is up, finally.” Thesis looked down at the bowl, then up at Trixie, who was smiling eagerly. “Eat up,” she said. Thesis looked at the bowl and sniffed it. Then she sniffed it again. She looked back up at Trixie. “Um…” Thesis said, “couldn’t I have something else? Like what you made last night.” “Well…” Trixie glanced back toward the kitchen, “not really. This did take a while to make, you know. Just…” she said carefully, “give it a try.” Thesis stared at Trixie. “But I don’t want it.” “It’s all there is.” “But I don’t want it.” Thesis repeated. Trixie’s smile was now all but gone. “You could just have a bite, see how it tastes. You might like it.” “I DON’T WANT IT!” Thesis’ horn glowed, and the bowl was wrapped in a dark blue aura. The next thing Trixie knew, the bowl and table had gone flying. There was a mighty crash of wood and crockery, and Trixie found herself staring at Thesis, looking at the remains of both table and lunch in alarm. “I’m sorry!” the filly barely managed to squeak out. She then rushed out of the room before Trixie could even say anything. Fortunately, at least, she did not flee far, and Trixie found her huddled under her desk. As she heard the occasional terrified sniff from underneath the desk, Trixie tried to steel herself. ‘Difficulties with control of magic’, Midnight’s note had said. She didn’t regard destroying tables by accident as a simple difficulty. Or nearly blinding her, for that matter. Maybe, she thought, if a certain lying back and front-stabbing weasel had explained things more concisely, these situations might have been avoided. Another, far more annoyingly reasonable part of her brought up that she probably wouldn’t have listened anyway. Trixie ignored it. “I didn’t mean it.” She heard Thesis exclaim, the filly evidently having noticed her expression darkening. “It just happens when I try to use magic sometimes, it doesn’t work properly. M- my sister was supposed to be helping me, and then…” Trixie resisted the urge to say, or even think, several very angry things, which was already proving difficult just by looking at the terrified expression on the filly’s face. But she was making a list of her own, with the key topic being what she was going to do to that pony when she met her again. “It’s alright,” Trixie said, “it was just a table, and a bowl. Believe me, my house has been smashed up worse than that in the last year.” There was a pause, punctuated only by another soggy sniff. “R-really?” “This town is an insurance salespony’s dream.” Trixie chortled. “And a homeowner’s nightmare. But we should probably talk about that yelling you did.” “I’m sorry…” Thesis said, and Trixie felt like a monster again. “I just… I don’t know, I got so angry all of a sudden.” “It’s…” she stopped, “well, I was going to say “it’s okay”, but… for the record, even if you don’t like the food, losing your temper about it is a no-no.” “It’s a what?” Trixie shook her head, hoping desperately the foal couldn’t see her. “Try not to do it.” There was a momentary, all-consuming silence. “Alright, we’re going to do two things. First off, is getting some lunch elsewhere. Okay, no” she corrected herself, “first off is cleaning everything up, then lunch, then we go have a talk with somepony who might be able to help with these magic problems you’re having.” “Will apples be involved?” Thesis asked. Thesis stared at the object she was holding, with utmost care, in the grasp of her magic. “It’s a peanut-butter cracker,” Miss Trixie had said, as they’d left the store with a small packet of the things. “The food of champions.” She wasn’t entirely sure about that, but a few cautionary nibbles at least convinced her it was good. The two of them continued walking through the light snow, until she saw a large tree, looming in the distance, a sign proclaiming it was the Ponyville library. Which meant Miss Twilight. The door chimed as she and Trixie entered, and Thesis looked about, hoping to get a better look at the library in daytime, see how it measured up to Canterlot’s library. There was a cough, from the purple pony sitting on the stairs leading to the upper room, her back turned. “Whatever you’re eating, put it away now.” Twilight Sparkle said, in a tone suggesting all manner of horrible things would happen if they didn’t. Thesis looked at Trixie, who rolled her eyes and stashed the food away within her cape. “Afternoon to you too, Sparkle.” The mare turned around, and gave Trixie a mildly withering stare, only to stop and look at Thesis again when she saw her. In a flash of light, she vanished, and reappeared a few steps from the filly. “Hello, Trixie,” she said, looking between the two ponies. “How did…” “Long story,” Trixie replied, “complicated. Not really important right now.” Twilight gave Trixie an odd look that Thesis didn’t get, and Trixie gave one back. “I see.” Twilight murmured, for which Thesis was grateful, because she certainly didn’t. “What brings you here?” the purple mare asked. “Research.” Trixie said, slowly, as if she didn’t want to say the words. Twilight looked at her funny. “Research?” she repeated. “Yes. There was an incident at lunch time, and…” Thesis found her ears falling flat, and suddenly couldn’t bear looking at Miss Twilight. “I might need… some assistance.” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Okay…” she said, though to Thesis’ ear she sounded like she wanted to say more. “There isn’t any history of magical instability in your family, is there?” Twilight shook her head. “Not as such. My magical control’s always been…” she suddenly coughed, “well, pretty good. Same with my brother.” The mare looked toward a small pile of books on the far side of the room, as Trixie eyed her suspiciously. “You coughed. Something you’re not sharing?” “No…” Twilight said, tapping her forehooves together. “Okay, maybe when I got my Cutie Mark I may have… given off a massive burst of energy which might have been beyond my control.” Then she muttered something under her breath, and hurriedly trotted over to the other side of the room. “What was that?” Trixie asked. “I may have turned my parents into potted plants.” Twilight just barely squeaked out, her cheeks beginning to turn bright pink. “If it hadn’t been for Princess Luna…” She coughed again, far more forcefully this time. “Anyway. I don’t have much personal experience with this kind of uncontrolled magic. But I could read up on it, if it’d be any help.” “Couldn’t hurt.” Trixie said, with the tone of somepony who was perfectly happy not to be reading a book if she didn’t have to. “It’d help if I knew what the problem was, though.” “It happens when I get angry,” Thesis said. “Things just start breaking. My sister said it was something to do with me being an alicorn and-” “Wait.” Twilight held up a hoof, “sister?” She glanced suspiciously at Trixie. “Care to elaborate on that one?” “Remember what I said about it being complicated?” Trixie said. “I think you need to start explain things.” Twilight mused. Thesis looked at the two ponies. Trixie was staring at her oddly. “Alright,” Trixie finally said, “but… in private.” Thesis looked at her, and Trixie winced. “Sorry, but some of this is for grown up ponies only.” She watched as the two walked off into a side room, and sat. For a moment, she heard the sound of voices, but they stopped. In irritation at being left out, she kicked absently at the floor, then looked around at the bookshelves. “Hold on…” Twilight declared, “so… Princess Luna’s major domo decides, after years of working for her, to legally seize Thesis, move to Ponyville, then just… disappear?” Her mouth opened. Her mouth closed again. This repeated several times. “Why?” Trixie could only stare at the ceiling. “I’ve no idea. Well, I’ve no idea why she took off, but I’ve a good explanation for the rest of it. I’ve got an explanation,” she amended, almost immediately. “And it’s probably the best I’m going to get.” “Which is…?” Twilight ventured. “Not repeatable near foals.” Trixie declared. “Oh.” “Oh?” Trixie repeated. Twilight shrugged. “I thought you were going to suggest she was being manipulated or controlled, or… I don’t know, something like that.” “My luck isn’t that good.” Trixie muttered. “Besides, I’ve seen what happens when somepony tries blackmailing her, and…” “You’re taking this pretty hard.” Twilight remarked. Trixie shot the purple pony a glower. Her ears twitched. “I didn’t mean it like… that came out wrong.” “How was that supposed to come out right?” Trixie asked. “It’s just... you are. And I get that, because she was your friend, wasn’t she?” Trixie paused. “I… I don’t actually know if she was my friend. More like she followed me around a lot and never went away. But I figured I at least knew where she stood. And now, she’s walking around Ponyville with Thesis, and…” Trixie groaned in frustration. “Well, if she wasn’t your friend, would it upset you as much?” “Maybe. Perhaps.” Trixie shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Can we please talk about something else? Anything else. Please?” “Well…” Twilight mused, “have you any particular plans for Hearths’ Warming?” “Stay indoors.” Trixie grinned, “stay near drink, especially if it’s warm. Keep the Elements of Harmony nearby, just in case.” Twilight frowned at that, and opened her mouth to say something. If Trixie had to guess, she had been about to ask whether that was necessary. She herself wasn’t absolutely sure if it was, if only because even Ponyville’s luck (or absence thereof) couldn’t have been that bad, but after the previous year’s Longest Night had ended with a crazed alicorn escaping from the sun, nopony in town really wanted to take their chances. “Good idea.” Twilight finally said. “What about you?” Trixie asked. “Same as I do every Hearths’ Warming. Stay near a fire and catch up on my reading. I’d have tried writing my brother, or my parents, to see if they want to visit, but Shiny’s busy with everything that’s happened, and I don’t think my dad would be too welcome here.” “Yeah,” Trixie said, fighting down the urge to say anything about that. Twilight too, from the looks of it, given the nervous expression on her face. “Now, my mom, on the other hoof…” Twilight said carefully, “is another story. But if she was here I’d probably have to explain Thesis at some point and…” The mare tapped her forehooves together. “Bad idea?” Trixie asked, carefully. She had little knowledge of Twilight’s mother, especially compared to her father and brother. In fact, she could barely recall having even seen the mare at all, even during the Grand Galloping Gala. “No. No. Just… she really wants grandfoals.” Twilight barely managed to get out. “And then if she learned about those ponies abducting us, she’d…” “Ah.” Trixie said, knowingly. “You don’t want her to worry.” “I already put her and my dad out of their minds with worry when I… you know. If I told them about what happened…” Trixie nodded, solemnly. “I get you.” Twilight sighed heavily. “So as much as I would love to see them at Hearths’ Warming again, I can’t.” After a few seconds, a smile began to creep back onto her muzzle. “But I do have all that “homework” to work on, if I get bored. Agent Haymaker said I didn’t have to work on it during the holidays, but with the weather not many ponies are coming to the library anyway.” Trixie began grinning again. She knew about Twilight’s “extra-curricular assignment”, helping the Shadowbolts with testing some teleportation spells, having been told about it at the same time as Twilight. After all, the mare was the biggest expert on teleportation magic in Equestria (and beyond, in fact). She’d practically leapt at the offer. “Plus, you enjoy working on it.” “Well…” Twilight grinned an almost infectiously nervous smile, “Yes. It is pretty fascinating application of teleportation magic.” “I get it,” Trixie said, eager to head off a potential rant and / or lecture on teleportation magic before it could begin. For a moment, a look of confusion (or irritation, or both) flashed across Twilight’s face, then vanished. “Alright then.” She declared, before looking past Trixie to the door. “I suppose we should go back and check on Thesis. Wasn’t that what you came here to talk about?” On re-entering the main room, Trixie felt a small stab of fear on not seeing Thesis exactly where she’d been left. Mercifully, before her brain could go into a panicked overdrive, she noticed the foal sitting by one of the bookshelves, engrossed in a book. “Hey,” Trixie said, “sorry about that. Just needed to fill Sparkle in on a few things. We got a little distracted.” “’kay.” Thesis nodded. “So, anyway!” Trixie grinned, ignoring the look Twilight was giving her for that previous remark, “about that help we promised to give you…” “My head hurts…” Thesis declared, as she and Trixie trudged through the snow, away from the library, the sun beginning to droop toward the horizon again. “Yeah,” Trixie nodded. “That’s what happens when you’re near Twilight Sparkle for too long.” “I don’t even get all of what she was saying.” The filly added. Trixie nodded again. She had tried telling Twilight to dumb it down a little, but Twilight Sparkle’s concept of dumbing it down and everypony else’s ideas of dumbing it down… differed. Dramatically. And then she had tried chiming in with what Princess Luna had told her about learning magic, and things had gotten maliciously polite between the two of them. Twilight had suggested Thesis take some books home with her, until Trixie had seen the titles and suggested maybe, maybe, it was a better idea to try something that didn’t require five degrees to follow, and eventually they’d decided it was best to call time there before things got worse. Then her thoughts turned to what Thesis had been reading. “So, what were you looking up? Anything interesting?” “Nothing.” Thesis murmured. “Just a dictionary I was looking through.” The two continued walking, the only sound being the crunch of snow and the sloshing of slush, and occasionally the mix of the two. “You look a little down.” Trixie said. “I keep thinking about my sister…” Thesis murmured. Trixie felt her stomach sink again. “Why’d she leave me? Did I do something wrong?” Trixie wrenched her jaw shut. “No. I’m… sure she had her reasons, whatever they were,” she said, summoning all the diplomatic phrasing she could muster (and even then, the words left an awful taste behind). But the foal didn’t seem convinced. There was silence, the only sound the crunching of snow. Trixie looked up at the sky, and the clouds being pushed about by Ponyville’s weather team. And then a thought came to her. “You know,” she began, still looking up at the sky, “my aunt once told me something, an old tale. She said at night, if a pony looks up at the stars at the same time as somepony else, they can hear each other, no matter where they are, no matter the distance between them.” She looked down at the foal, who was staring at her like she was growing a second tail. “Is that real?” she asked, a note of almost-Twilight like suspicion edging into her voice. “It’s a real story, alright,” Trixie grinned. She looked down to see Thesis giving her as filthy a look as she could manage. “The only way to know is to try.” The sky was a light purple, with an odd light to it from the snow still scattered about Ponyville, which was being reinforced by a fresh layer left overnight by the weather service. Of course, this meant actually looking at the stars was proving difficult for Thesis, since there weren’t any she could see. Just snow and clouds. She wasn’t entirely sure Trixie was telling the truth, especially after what her sister had said before she’d left, but so far she’d been nothing but nice, so what was wrong with trying? Only, she realised as she looked up at the clouds, watching snow dancing on the breeze and silently spattering against the window, she wasn’t even sure what to think, or what star to even look at. How was her sister supposed to know? Would she know? Certainly, she’d seemed to know a lot of things anyway. Would she have been able to know Thesis was looking for her? Scrunching her face in concentration, Thesis looked upwards anyway. There was the horrible smell of smoke and burnt fur in the air, made all the worse by the confines of the area, which in this case was a large, neigh cavernous underground space, evidently carved out by somepony (or something) a long time ago, left behind by its original designers in something of a hurry, and found many centuries later. Exactly why the original owners had left so quickly was perhaps not dwelt upon. Certainly, at present, the current occupants were in no condition to raise theories. Several of them were unconscious, some were rocking back and forth, muttering to themselves. One or two unfortunates were completely grey from head to hoof to tail. Their attackers, a grand total of three ponies, walked over and around the handful of ponies left. The one in front, their eyes glowing an unpleasant orange, did so with a practiced ease. The other two, a young colt with a short mane, and an angry looking mare, were merely trailing behind. Both of them were taking great effort not to look at anything in particular. Not the ponies on the floor, not each other, or the eerie writing on the surfaces they could see (the parts that didn’t have holes from where stray magic had hit them, or hadn’t just worn down from age), which called to mind the words “spidery”, or the unpleasant way the shadows danced over everything, giving hints of things they didn’t want to see. Artwork or frescos of strange and disturbing geometry dotted the walls here and there, with far too much red and black to be reassuring to anyone. And then there was that vague buzzing in the back of their minds, like a voice faintly whispering unpleasant nothings. The lead pony marched through the room, her gaze falling upon everything with a casually bored air, until she reached the center of the room. The mare grinned, and motioned to the third pony, who walked over without a word, and at the mare’s motioning, smashed a hoof down upon the center. Frolic Flame just stood back, watching, as the stone floor buckled, and cracked under the third pony’s blows. He would swear, later, that the buzzing had changed pitch and intensity, becoming much shriller. Almost like whatever was causing it was afraid. After a few seconds, the mare nodded, and her horn lit up. Several large stones were wrapped in a golden aura and moved out of the way, revealing a small, dark pit. Nearby, one of the prone ponies groaned in alarm, apparently recognising what was happening. “No!” They moaned, waving a hoof at the two. Without a word, the third pony moved over toward them, and delivered a swift kick to the head. Back in the center of the room, the lead pony was lifting something out of the pit with their magic. And “something” was the best Frolic would have called it, as he saw the item lifted out of the hole. At first glance, it looked not unlike a strange, misshapen hourglass. But there was no sand inside. Instead there was… well, again, something. It looked like a ball of light, only the light it gave off was a hideous mix of dark purple and green, which made him feel queasy, and want to look away, at the walls, at the shadows, anywhere but at it, as it roiled inside the container, and though he swore it couldn’t have, Frolic could’ve sworn he heard something like a heart-beat. The mare was smiling at it, with an almost hungry gaze. Frolic looked to the third pony, who was trying not to look at anything, but occasionally would glance at the object, whatever it was, only to hurriedly look away. It would’ve helped if there was anything else to look at, other than the ones who’d been guarding it, or the writing on the walls. “Yes…” the mare said, the golden glow of her eyes shining off the container’s surface. “This will do nicely.” While Trixie was not overly fond of winter, at least the parts that did not involve parties and wassailing and being near nice, cosy fires, she had to admit there were, on occasion, fringe benefits. Such as her not having to do as much work, now that it was December. Of course, this left more time for thinking about other things. Like Thesis. She was keeping an eye on the filly, who was minding her own business, reading Don Rociante (after Trixie had caught her browsing through another dictionary). Thesis, and what was going to happen very soon, for it was a Wednesday, the day Dinky stopped by for tutoring in the arts of magic. So far, Thesis had been pleasant and agreeable (baring the Lunch Incident), but Trixie had no idea how she’d respond to Dinky, or how Dinky would respond to her, and the amount of time since Ditzy had asked her about what might’ve happened had only caused her brain to start imagining hypothetical scenarios, no matter how hard she tried to stop it. All of which, she repeated to herself, were unlikely. Especially the ones where Dinky and Thesis meeting turned into a massive brawl that destroyed all of Ponyville, ending with Ditzy glaring furiously at Trixie and saying she would never be allowed near her daughter again. Besides, she was pretty sure she knew what had gone wrong during the Incident some months prior, with Ditzy and her schoolmate Tootsie Flute. Not that this stopped her brain from trying to imagine disastrous scenarios without her permission, as the clock slowly ticked past midday, then one o’clock, then two o’clock… Finally, at half past three, there was a knocking on her door. Steadying herself, and trying to look as calm as possible, Trixie made her way over. She found Ditzy standing there, covered up in a scarf and hat (just because she was a pegasus didn’t mean she didn’t feel the cold), and next to her was Dinky, practically buried under her own cloak and hat and scarf. “Hi, Miss Trixie!” The walking clothes rack that was Dinky declared, in a muffled voice. “Hey, kiddo,” Trixie grinned back, “c’mon in and warm yourself up. I just need to have a quick word with your mom about stuff.” Dinky hurried inside, a few small piles of snow following her. Trixie looked back to Ditzy, who was looking calm. “Has she…” Trixie began, sidling in toward her friend, and whispering, just in case. “I told her about You Know Who,” Ditzy replied, “and I have her promise she’ll behave.” Trixie nodded solemnly. While she had doubts about her own ability to prevent disaster, the threat of a disappointed Ditzy was a far greater deterrent than she anything else she could think of, up to and including an angry Luna. “Thanks.” She said. “Everything’s still going alright?” Ditzy asked. Trixie shuffled about. “Yes…” Ditzy’s gaze intensified. “Really?” Trixie found herself unable to meet Ditzy’s gaze. “Yes.” “You don’t sound very sure.” “Well… there was an incident the other day.” Ditzy frowned at her. “Nothing dangerous happened.” Trixie quickly stated. “Thesis is fine, we’re all fine. Everything’s fine. Nothing important got broken.” Ditzy stared at Trixie for several seconds. “Good.” She eventually declared. Trixie wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or not, but the mare didn’t sound too convinced. “Alright then,” she added, with great care, as her expression softened. “Try to have fun.” Trixie smiled nervously, as she closed the door, and then turned around, to find Dinky. Thesis had been minding her own business, reading the book Trixie had insisted she read, the one about someone named Don Rociante. She’d said something about somepony visiting at some point, and how she didn’t need to get involved if she didn’t want to. So she had been sitting, reading the book, which was proving interesting in its own way, minding her own business, when she’d heard the knocking at the door, followed a few seconds later by the odd squeaking noise. Then, a pony had entered the room, one with a greyish coat, light yellow hair and matching light yellow eyes, and a cheerful smile that had flickered the moment she entered the study and laid eyes on Thesis. “Hi!” the unicorn declared, walking over toward her, and extending a hoof. “I’m Dinky.” Thesis stared at the hoof, and the unicorn behind it, with her bright, eager smile, which seemed larger than it had any right to be. Carefully, she raised a hoof of her own. “Hi,” she said, “I’m Thesis.” With no apparent act of movement, Dinky’s other forehoof shot out, both locking around hers, as Dinky shook. “Nice to meet you.” The filly continued to grin, which made Thesis want to take some steps back. There was just too much of it for her liking. But at the same time, there was something about her that just seemed so… different. Well, different aside from being another foal, though she was starting to wonder if the pony in front of her was typical of other foals. Her words carried back to what her sister had said. About somepony of constant “exuberance”, which did seem to match this Dinky she was staring at (especially after she’d checked the dictionary to see what the word actually meant). “Yeah,” she murmured, “nice to meet you too.” There was a moment as Dinky continued grinning at her. “So…” the filly began again, “I’ve not seen you at school. Are you just visiting Ponyville, or…” “No, I moved here with my sister, a few weeks ago.” Thesis said, “but she… went away so I’m staying with Miss Trixie right now.” She coughed, “why are you here?” Dinky’s grin somehow managed to become even more scary. “I’m studying magic under Miss Trixie, as her assistant. She says I’m full of potential.” “And what does that mean?” Dinky’s smile flickered slightly. “It means… that I’m really, really good at magic.” Thesis nodded. This statement might have sounded somewhat more impressive to her if not for the unfortunate quibble that she had been around ponies such as Twilight Sparkle and Princess Luna the day she was born, and more importantly if she knew just whether that was meant to be impressive or not (it certainly sounded impressive, but she wasn’t sure whether she was any judge when she had barely mastered lifting apples. For all she knew, non-alicorn foals managed lifting apples on the first day of magic training. Indeed, for all she knew, every unicorn was really good at magic). But since this Dinky seemed nice, if a little scary in her smiling, she decided that was probably a good idea not be rude. Even if she wasn’t sure what being Trixie’s assistant meant either (wasn’t that Mr. Pierce’s job, anyway, she thought to herself. Maybe they switched places sometimes, though that didn’t make a lot of sense to her). She realised she was nodding and smiling a lot. So was Dinky. The other foal scuffed a hoof against the floor. “I like your wings.” Dinky added. Thesis felt them ruffle a little, without her wanting to. She tried saying “thanks”, but somewhere between the thought and actually getting out of her, something went hideously wrong and her mouth refused to move, meaning it came out as a barely audible “thks”. Trixie braced herself, as she stepped into her study. That there was no sound of anything breaking, or yelling, or raised voices, was already a good start. But she was still at the ready, just in case. What she saw was Dinky and Thesis talking between themselves. Talking was good. And while Thesis did look a little nervous around the other filly, she did at least look like she was calming down quickly. Trixie put that down to Dinky’s almost supernatural skill at making friends. As her mother had remarked, if Dinky’s special talent didn’t turn out to be something related to friendship, then it would be a great surprise, to say the least. “Alright then…” she declared, as she entered the room, “before we begin, Dinky, do you mind if I explain a few things to Thesis here?” “Nope.” Dinky smiled. That was definitely reassuring. Trixie leaned in toward Thesis. “Okay, here’s the thing: Dinky is my magician’s assistant. That means she assists in my magic act, which means I teach her magic so she can help, and also because of some other reasons. Now, I know you’re wondering what that means given what I said re: learning magic the other day. Don’t worry, some of this is a different kind of magic. And not all of it requires magic, if you get what I mean.” “Not really…” Thesis said. “No.” “Well, you’ll see.” Trixie grinned. “But, and this is part is important,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, “some of this magic is super-secret stuff. There are things even Princess Luna doesn’t know. Stuff that can only be passed down to very important ponies. So you must promise to keep what you learn a secret, okay?” Thesis’ face scrunched up, as she took the words in. “Alright…” “… good enough.” Trixie said. “Don’t worry if you don’t understand something, just ask me or Dinky.” “And if I want to do something else?” Thesis asked. “Then by all means, go and do it. You don’t have to sit here and watch if you don’t want to.” Trixie watched as Dinky bundled herself up in her scarf, and hat and cloak, and set off out into the night with her mother, and smiled at the sight. Things had gone smoothly. Very smoothly, in fact. Thesis had just sat and watched quietly the whole time, without so much as even the slightest peep. “So, what did you think?” Trixie asked, turning to the foal, who had made her way back to the fire. She stared thoughtfully. “Are all other foals like that?” was the eventual question. “Err.” Trixie began. “Well.” She continued, “not… exactly, no.” Thesis made a small noise. Trixie knelt down next to her. “But I meant, what did you think of what you saw?” “I don’t know…” Thesis murmured. “It was different from what my sister taught me…” “Aside from the lack of apples?” Trixie tried. “Yeah.” Thesis smiled, which Trixie decided was a definite sign of progress. “But how can it be magic if it’s not magic?” “Oh,” Trixie said, donning her best knowing smile, “there are ways. There are ways.” She looked at the clock, “tell you what, it’s getting late, I’ll make us some dinner, and we’ll talk about it some more, okay?” Mercifully, dinner proved to go down a lot easier with Thesis than the other day’s lunch had, though Thesis had prodded it uncertainly several times, and been more than a little distracted asking about stagecraft, which seemed to be of particular confusion to her. Trixie assured her she’d teach her some more over the coming weeks if she wanted, though Thesis had seemed... well, to Trixie she seemed more concerned about the thought of Dinky coming back. Eventually, the hours passed, and it reached the time for foals of all ages to be in bed, asleep, as the fire began to die down, and the temperature began to drop. Trixie guided Thesis up the stairs, and to her bed, where the filly curled up under the covers, and seemed to fall asleep within barely minutes of her head hitting the pillows. For her own part, Trixie felt the oncoming urge to lie down and get some serious, no-nonsense sleeping of her own going on. Which naturally meant the minute she actually got into her own bed, no such thing happened. Long minutes stretched past, as eyes that had previously been drooping dangerously low suddenly felt less heavy. It was after some time, at least a good half an hour, by Trixie’s reckoning, that she heard an odd noise. After several seconds of nothing happening, Trixie dismissed it, as the normal sort of odd noise heard at Far Too Late At Night, when a pony was trying to sleep, and went back to trying to think of something, anything to help with the matter. Sadly, not even trying to recall Sparkle recounting some magical theorem was working. And then Trixie heard another, similar noise. Just as she was about to dismiss this, the room started shaking. There was no roaring, no screaming, no loud crunch of woodwork splintering, just… shaking. Instantly, Trixie threw off the covers, ignoring the blast of freezing cold this earned her, and hurried out onto the landing, and over to the spare bedroom. In total defiance of dramatic convention, the door opened on the first try, and Trixie entered. She was greeted by two things: The first was the sight of Thesis, still slumbering, but her horn was glowing, if only faintly. The other was the way she was tossing and turning, murmuring faintly but frantically to herself. To say that Trixie hesitated would’ve been incorrect. She wanted to rush the remaining steps across the room and try to help the foal. But another part of her, which seemed to have seized control of the leg muscles, was wary of what happened if she woke up Thesis mid-nightmare, and what would follow if she, instinctively or not, tried using magic to defend herself. That part of Trixie got its question answered when, with a terrified yelp, Thesis’s eyes shot open, and her horn light up brightly. Something that looked astonishingly like a bedside table hit Trixie square in the side, and there was another terrified noise, Thesis apologising at a million miles an hour. “I’m sorry!” she said, leaping off the bed toward Trixie. “It’s okay,” Trixie groaned, waving a free hoof at her. “I’ve had worse.” This didn’t seem to reassure the filly much, her wings clenching tightly to her side. “Don’t worry about me. Are you okay?” Trixie said, “Something had you spooked.” The wings twitched slightly. She could see there were tears beginning to form in the filly’s eyes. “Must’ve been a very bad nightmare.” There was a noise that could’ve been an affirmative, as her tail swished. “Why don’t you tell me?” Trixie said. Thesis blinked, rubbing at her eyes as the tears started forming. “I was… I was in a forest, it was dark, and I was all alone…” Ignoring the shriek of her freshly bruised side, Trixie reached out to the foal and hugged her. “It’s okay,” she said, as gently as she could managed, “you’re not alone here, are you?” “N-no…” “Because I’ll look after you. And so will my friends.” There was a small sniff from the filly. “And my sister?” Trixie’s smile became slightly more forced. “Yeah, her too.” Thesis sniffled again. “Let me tell you a secret,” Trixie said, gently, “everypony, everything gets nightmares.” “They do?” Trixie nodded. “Everypony. Even the Great and Powerful Trixie, on occasion.” “Really?” “Oh, yes. But Princess Luna does what she can to protect everypony’s dreams while they sleep.” The watery eyes blinked in alarmed. “She… does?” “When she can. She does have to run a country, after all.” Trixie admitted. “And do you know something a very wise pony once told me?” “No.” Thesis replied. “He said that even monsters have nightmares, sometimes.” “Even monsters?” Thesis repeated. “Especially monsters.” Trixie said. The foal considered this, in-between wiping the last tears from her eyes. “But why do they have nightmares?” Trixie resisted the urge to shrug, not least because her side felt like it was on fire. “I don’t know. But if something’s bad enough to scare a monster, it must be pretty scary.” “That’s not…” Thesis began, “that’s not what I meant.” “The important thing to remember is that it’s just like a dream – it’s not real. No matter how scary it may seem.” Trixie suddenly yawned. Looking about the dark of the room, she saw the clock that had been on Thesis’ bedside table lying on the floor, and even in the dark she could see well enough that it was saying time was far too late for any sane pony to still be awake. “I know this was scary,” she said, gently, “but you’re alright. You’re safe, and I’m nearby if anything should happen. Not that anything will. Just try and put it out of your mind, and get back to sleep.” Thesis looked back towards her bed, shuffling quietly. “Try and think of something nice. Something that makes you feel happy.” “Couldn’t you stay?” Thesis asked, quietly. “Please?” Any objection Trixie might’ve had (not that she was actually thinking of it) died then and there. “Alright,” she said. And then an idea came to mind, “tell you what, I’ll tell you a story. An epic story, based on true events that definitely happened, featuring the Great and Powerful Trixie herself, battling a terrible evil!” As Thesis clambered into bed and gathered the covers back up again, Trixie quickly went over what stories she knew she could tell. Somehow, she had the feeling that telling Thesis about Corona snatching foals away was probably not the best idea. Tambelon was too dark. The mess with Antithesis, with its two Trixies and two Sparkles, was probably a little too confusing (and also, maybe, just a little embarrassing in some areas). In fact, as she went through the list of the previous year’s events, it seemed an awful lot of them were not particularly suited for any foal, much less one too afraid to fall asleep. And then a particular name hit her. It was genius, it was simplicity itself… provided she embellished a few details (and really, what harm was there in that? A good story needed an embellishment or two sometimes). “Alright,” she grinned, “prepare yourself, to hear the story of the hero of Oaton… it began two years ago, when Trixie was not as Great or Powerful as she is now…” Rubble and glass littered what had once been a proud room. A throne of obsidian sat the top, shattered and broken. Light was streaming through where once had been great stained windows. One pony stood before six others. All of them looked tired, and exhausted. Of the six, some were bruised or cut. One, a pale blue mare, stood forward, trying to talk to the mare opposite them, fear and apprehension in her eyes. She looked less injured, but was definitely exhausted, and pained. Something golden was wrapped under one forelimb, pressed against the deep blue fur of her coat. There were no words, as the dark blue mare said something, but there was clear tension between the seven ponies. “Your majesty?” Celestia jolted into awakening. Under the sounds of the volcano, there was an alarmed noise, as a grey pony leapt backward, something wrapped in the grip of her magic. It took Celestia a moment to gather herself. The pony sitting there as Smoke, the one who’d followed Kindle into her service, albeit with much less enthusiasm than he. Even to Celestia, who was naturally above such things, could tell that Smoke, adequate and faithful servant that she was, had not come for her, but more because of Kindle. She frowned, as she examined the object held in the small pony’s magic. “Smoke.” “Yes, your majesty?” “Is there some reason you were sneaking around my throne with what looks like a slice of cake?” “Um,” began the mare, which did not bode well for the tenor of the rest of the conversation, “well, I was thinking maybe you would have wanted a slice, since… somepony has to eat the cake, I mean, even with those charms a pantry isn’t going to keep it forever, and I just thought, but then I got here and you were…” She trailed off at that. “Resting.” Celestia said. She couldn't recall having fallen asleep. Last she knew, she had been sitting on her throne, thinking. The thought idly crossed her mind that she must have been more tired than she thought. “Yes, that.” Smoke added quickly, “so I figured maybe I’d leave it here until you woke up.” “That was…” Celestia began. Her eyes were drawn to the cake. Her irritation at her privacy being interrupted by something so meaningless was evaporating. Regardless of the odd train of logic her servant had been thinking, it hadn’t been an expression of malice. And it did look like a very enticing cake. It seemed a shame to dismiss her for such an innocuous deed. “Very considerate.” She finished, and it didn’t take the skills of an alicorn to see the way Smoke relaxed at that, as if she’d been expecting wroth and fire. “Thank you.” Celestia added, to see if it would put the mare more at ease. “It was nothing.” Smoke murmured. “Did you not take any for yourself?” Celestia asked, as she took a cursory bite (and found, much to her satisfaction, that it was good). “No, your majesty.” The grey mare said emphatically, only to stop at Celestia’s bemused glance. “Not while I’m working.” There was silence, in which it was possible to hear the lava bubbling away to itself. “Working?” Celestia asked. “How long have I been asleep?” “Not long, I don’t think.” Smoke said, hurriedly, “but Kindle had some ideas he wanted to think on, so he hasn’t gone to sleep yet. It’s not even two in the morning yet.” Celestia’s face remained impassive. “I see.” She was beginning to think that at some point she would really need to have a sit down with Kindle, and have a very, very serious talk. Possibly more than one, in fact. Devotion was well and good and to be appreciated, but he was no good to her if he was too tired to perform his duties, and even more so if others were losing out as well. She idly wondered if perhaps setting a curfew was an idea, but she had a strange feeling Kindle would like either forget or ignore it. “Then on thy Queen’s command, Smoke of Manehatten, you are released, and under orders not to work further this night.” Smoke bowed respectfully. “Yes, my Queen.” There was yet another silence, as she remained there. “Uh, your majesty…” “Yes?” Celestia began. “I was just wondering… is everything alright?” Celestia considered this. True, in a greater sense, everything was most definitely not alright. And frankly, in the immediate sense, it was also anything but alright (aside from the cake, which was proving delicious). But she didn’t want to worry her servants further. “Why do you ask?” “Well, it’s just… and I know it isn’t my place, but you seemed troubled by something.” Celestia carefully set the plate down. “I suppose I was, yes. I was dreaming.” “Oh.” Smoke declared. Celestia hummed, in thought. “Do you know, I can scarce recall the last time I dreamed. I am sure I must have, even if I cannot remember when.” “What were you dreaming of?” Smoke asked, innocently, and judging by the look on her face, inadvertently. Celestia decided she would forgive the impertinence. “The future.” Now the mare seemed confused. “I thought that was Zecora’s thing, your majesty.” “Aye,” Celestia said, “Zecora does have the gift of prophecy. But my sister and I have sometimes had brief glimpses. Not rhyming warnings, but flashes, moments of foresight.” She rubbed a hoof against her chin, “and as I said, it has been some time since I can actually remember it occurring.” “And what did you see?” Celestia frowned. “A troubling sight, if there’s any truth in it. And given what I did see, I doubt that very much. Prophecies are tricky even at the best of times.” She shook her head. It couldn’t have been true, that much was obvious. In all the world, there were but three alicorns left. Herself, Luna, and Cadenza of Cavallia. If there had been another alicorn, especially one approaching adulthood, she would’ve heard about them, even if Luna had tried to hide it from her. “-and it was at that point I…” Trixie stopped. It had been several minutes since Thesis had said anything, but that had hardly been suspicious since she had said very little to begin with, instead just listening intently, but now it was hard not to notice the inescapable fact that she was quite obviously fast asleep. The fact her eyes were closed was a dead giveaway. “Ah.” She said, quietly. “To be continued, I guess.” She stood up, ignoring the scream of pain from her side. As she got to the door, she stopped. “Sweet dreams.” Trixie made her way back to her room, and her bed, and within ten minutes had managed to fall asleep. Somewhere, which she was going to label “out there” (which meant anywhere beyond the confines of her bed), there was a knocking. Trixie groaned, waving a hoof idly. “Just a minute…” she murmured, as she tried levering herself out of her bed, ignoring the still fresh aches and pains on her side. The knocking continued, even as she blinked in the morning light, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Couldn’t wait five minutes, could you?” she muttered. She dragged herself out onto the landing, and down the stairs, and towards the front door. Halfway to the door she picked up her cape, the magic enchantments on it quickly helping her go from “freezing” to merely “very cold”, before she opened the door, the rush of fresh, if even colder, air waking her up more than any coffee would’ve done. “Raindrops?” Trixie blinked, on seeing the jasmine-coated Pegasus standing on her doorstep. “What’s the matter?” Raindrops looked momentarily uncomfortable. “I was just passing by on the way to work,” she said, which Trixie knew was an outright lie, given her house and Ponyville’s weather patrol station weren’t anywhere near one another, “wanted to see if you were alright.” Trixie blinked. “Am I…? Yes, yes, I’m fine. Why?” “Just concerned.” Raindrops said, quickly. “Everything’s fine, then.” Trixie contemplated this. “Pretty much, yes.” At this, Raindrops’ expression changed. “Pretty much?” “There was an incident during the night. Thesis had a nightmare, but it’s alright,” she said hurriedly, “everything’s fine. She was just spooked, but it’s all fine.” Raindrops stared at Trixie for a long while, before nodding. “Good to know. But… Cheerilee was saying some things the other night. Might want to deal with that before she comes calling.” “Yes,” Trixie said, “I should, shouldn’t I? I mean, I will, I’m going to. Definitely going to. At some point, in the very near future.” “Glad to hear it,” Raindrops said. “Because I’m not absolutely sure I could take an angry Cheerilee. Just for the record.” Trixie stared blankly, waiting to see if Raindrop’s expression would change, or if she would declare she was joking. Raindrops did neither. “I get it,” Trixie sighed, “get Thesis into school before anything happens. It’s just…” she found herself thinking of the night’s events, what Thesis had said. “Explaining it to her is going to be tricky.” “You’ll manage.” Raindrops said. “Not that you’ve got much choice.” Trixie made a non-committal noise in response. Raindrops sighed. “Anyway, I gotta get to work. See you later?” “Yeah,” Trixie nodded, “I’ll try and drop by the Punch Bowl at some point. And we’re still on for Hearth’s Warming, right?” Raindrops smiled, if only for a moment. “Assuming something doesn’t happen.” “At least we’ll be prepared if it does, this time.” Trixie said. Raindrops nodded. “Right.” She said, “let’s hope so. And I really have to get to work now. Bye, Trixie.” And with that, she began trotting off in the direction of the weather station. Trixie shut the door, and shook her head. Time to get to work. She thought to herself. Then she removed her cloak, and shivered. Okay, she amended, first get a fire going, then get to work. High above Manehatten, weather ponies were moving some of the larger rainclouds away, allowing the city’s inhabitants to be merely cold, as opposed to cold and wet, even as light began poking through the holes they were making. Not that this mattered to Lightning Dust and Sunset, as the two were indoors, in a small hotel room in one of the shadier parts of town, the former staring at the sight outside. “You’re sure about this?” the pony they were presently sharing the room with asked, glancing cautiously. He was a big one, by pony standards, and clearly a pony who did a lot of travelling around, and from the looks of the armor he wore, probably did at least some fighting while he was at it. Sunset and Lightning’s (at least, whenever the latter stopped staring at the window) gaze kept going back to the sword sitting nearby. The very big, very sharp looking sword, which had definitely seen use before. At that moment, his name escaped Lightning. Dream something, if she remembered right. (In her defense, she hadn’t been listening. Remembering names was Sunset’s job). “Yup.” Lightning said, confidently. “It’s her they were looking for. Gave us a picture and everything.” The big pony looked over toward the corner of the room, where another pony was sitting, pouring through several books and notes. “Paid us a lot of money to find her.” Lightning said, when the silence got to be too much for her. “How much money?” the pony in the corner asked. Despite the fact she didn’t sound offended, in fact if anything she sounded almost amused, Lightning suddenly found herself coming down with a case of laryngitis. “A lot.” Sunset stated, glancing back to Lightning. “Not that we were going to actually do it.” There was a slam, as the pony in the corner closed the book she was reading. “Glad to hear that.” She looked over toward the big pony. A silent exchange of concerned looks followed. “If they’re looking for you…” the big pony said, “they’re getting desperate.” There was a nod, as the mare looked at Sunset and Lightning Dust. The two of them had an increasingly sick feeling in their stomach. “They were already looking for me.” The mare frowned. “Now, they’re getting spooked. They probably think I’m up to something.” “Falling…” the big pony said, only to stop when the mare held up a hoof. “I think I’ve found what we were looking for, but you’re not going to like it.” The big pony’s expression sunk. “Define “not going to like it”. Is this the sort of “not going to like” which involves wandering around tombs, or just getting into a fight…?” “Uh…” Star began, running a pale blue hoof along the back of her neck. “No, this is much worse.” “Oh, great.” Star turned to look at Sunset and Lightning. “Actually, I don’t suppose you two would be willing to help us with something, would you?” Lightning looked to Sunset. “Depends,” the yellow unicorn said, “on what you’re asking us to do.” Star bit on her lip. “Well… there’s something I’m looking for, something really important.” “And it has to do with these “they” and “them” you keep mentioning, right?” Lightning asked. “Because that wasn’t ominous at all.” “Sort of…” Star said, “the problem is, I can’t be seen doing it.” “And you want us to get it for you.” Sunset finished. “It would be very helpful of you.” Star smiled. “And you two do say you’re good at what you do.” “Uh-oh.” Lightning muttered. “Don’t try and manipulate us like that.” Sunset snorted, “it might work on Lightning-“ “It kinda has worked on me.” “But,” Sunset said, firmly ignoring the pegasus, “you’ll have to try harder than that to get me.” “Would it help if we said it’s for a good cause?” Dream asked. At this, Lightling looked nervously at Sunset. It was not they were averse to doing good things as such, it was just that such activities tended to involve an annoying inverse ratio of danger to satisfying payout, and much to Lightning’s irritation, her other half had a bad habit of getting them involved in such things without consulting her about what she wanted to do first (which, for the record, was not get involved in things that could get her in jail). Already, she could see the wheels beginning to turn in Sunset’s eyes, wheels belonging to some elaborate, ludicrous mechanism that would end with them in more trouble than before. “What is it that you want us to do?” Lightning asked. Falling Star looked to her associate, then back to Sunset and Lightning. Suddenly, the light smile the mare had moments before had vanished. Now, there was a focused look on her face that made Lightning want to run away very quickly. “There’s an item, under lock and key in the Manhatten Museum of Natural History.” She said. “We’re going to steal it.”