The first time she had come, she had come in pride. The second time, she had come in wrath. The third, perhaps, in envy. Now, she looked at Ponyville with tired eyes, her mane plastered flat against her head in the driving rain. Her cloak she had left in the wagon; in this weather, the garment would serve more as a wet blanket than anything approaching shelter from the elements. Were she not so tired, not so hungry, not so weakened, she would have used a shield spell as an umbrella. And yet, she was so tired, so hungry, so weakened, and thus was forced to slog through the dolorous downpour and miserable muck that matted her blue coat and tangled her tail. The wagon had sunk in the mud not far outside of town. When she tried to free it, she bungled the spell and broke the front left wheel. Had the weather been more clement, or had she been less desperate, perhaps she would have tried to fix it. Unfortunately, her options had been closing rapidly for a long time now.
Seriously, RUT wheels, the unicorn nominally known as the Great and Powerful Trixie grumbled mentally as she violently shook a particularly large clod of sod off of her hoof. If she was honest, it was a good thing that the night was so dark and miserable. In this weather, nopony could see her form against the dark shadows, likely not even Princess Luna herself. Nopony in town could see her in this, her lowest hour. At least, not yet. That would come tomorrow, she supposed. Still, if nothing else, she knew that she had at least one friend in this town. A friend whose abode she could already see down the street. Even if… she… lived there too, Trixie would abide. She yanked her hooves out of the muck and mire and slowly made her way toward the crystal Castle of Friendship. Toward, she hoped, salvation.
***
Twilight stared up at the ceiling of the library, counting the tiles absently. She resisted the urge to count the number of rows and multiply it by the number of columns, as that would only hasten the return of boredom. 23 x 87 = 2001. Horseapples.
With a sigh, she rolled off the chaise and lay in a lump on the floor. What miserable weather it was. She’d had to cancel her plans for the evening when the storm rolled in. Though she’d intended to have a sleepover with her friends, she couldn’t ask any of them to slog through the muck and rain to her house, especially not Applejack or Fluttershy, who both lived so far away. Rarity, of course, would hardly tolerate the miserable effect the rain would have on her mane, and Spike had elected to stay with her and Sweetie Belle at the boutique. Rainbow and Pinkie probably could have made it, but though Twilight loved all her friends dearly, the idea of being stuck inside with those two all night made her shudder. Anyway, her heart had gone out of it.
Thus, here she was, counting ceiling tiles. For once, she didn’t feel like reading. There was a nagging sensation at the back of her skull, some terrible portent of doom. Not that she believed in such things, per se, but that was certainly what it felt like. At this point, she was willing to accept that it could be almost anything. She couldn’t think of any list she’d left unchecked, no task left undone, no experiment left abandoned. Though she had realized that she’d put her artificial life experiment on hold a little too long. The cheese sandwich she’d been using had wholly decomposed.
In short, there was nothing past or present that she could pinpoint as the cause of this strange distraction. And it certainly was a strange distraction! Why, she couldn’t even get through the first ten pages of Starswirl’s Sorceria, normally her primary go-to reading. And so, it was time to consider that the future might just be an option. Ever since the Pinkie Sense incident (not to mention her own dabbles in time), she had become rather more open to the idea of premonition. She had just begun to wonder if it might not be possible to recreate Starswirl’s time spell to test fortune-telling abilities when she heard a faint rapping at the door.
***
There are a number of laws which govern the universe, not all of which are fully understood. Most aren’t even meant to be understood, much like the rules of table etiquette, or cricket, or school dress codes. While the laws of the universe are much less draconian than any of those, they make up for it in terms of sheer incomprehensibility. For instance, the way that lightning will strike the same place two or even more times, provided that the same being is standing there as when it first struck. Or there is the law which dictates that if you have forgotten your (book, paperwork, badge, etc.) at home, it will turn out to be the one day that you actually needed it. All of these things evidences that the rulebook of the universe was written by an entity with a warped sense of humor. If further evidence is required, consider that all laws of the universe, were they to be written down in a very large book, would have an asterisk after them, leading to a footnote that would read *Except Pinkie Pie.
***
And thus, though Twilight Sparkle was indeed possessed of great power and good horse sense, she dutifully turned in the direction of the knock and stated, “Now who could that be at this hour?”
She rose from her position on the floor, possibilities running through her head. Had Pinkie and Dash come by after all? Had Spike decided to keep his big sister company? Perhaps it was Ditzy Doo with a late-night delivery? She trotted quickly to the front door and threw it open. The figure on the doorstep was positively drenched. Wet leaves stuck in her mane, and mud and muck plastered her fur against her flesh. Twilight gasped. “Oh, my. Are you alright? Here, come in, come in…”
The visitor trotted in on shaky hooves. “Where…” she choked. “Where…”
“Yes?” Twilight encouraged.
“Where is Starlight Glimmer?” the pony finally finished.
Twilight’s eyes narrowed slightly, then widened. Underneath the patina of muck and detritus, she could see the blue coat and white hair that denoted only one pony she could think of. “Trixie?”
“Twilight. Where is Starlight Glimmer?”
Twilight gave her the once-over. No hat, nor a cloak. Walking through Ponyville from an unknown starting point through a truly nightmarish storm. Calling her ‘Twilight’ rather than ‘Sparkle’...
“Trixie, what’s happened to you?”
The showmare chuckled drily. “As though you would care.”
“I do care!” Twilight insisted. “Are you alright? Hold on, I’ll go run you a bath.”
“...Thank you,” Trixie said slowly. “That would be… appreciated. Meanwhile, Trixie must go find Starlight Glimmer. She is not abed, I trust?”
Twilight bit her lower lip. “Um… she’s not here.”
Trixie flinched. “Oh. Ah. Will she be back soon?”
“...She’s in Canterlot.”
“Within the week?”
“I got her a job in the College of Magical Arts. Research and Development. She’s doing well…”
“Will she be back to visit anytime soon?” Trixie asked desperately.
“...Would you be willing to wait for Hearth’s Warming?”
Trixie stared, mouth agape. “That’s over seven months away!” She recovered herself. “Very well. Thank you for your offer of hospitality, but Trixie must be heading to Canterlot.”
The unicorn turned, but the doors closed quickly in her face. “Absolutely not,” Twilight said firmly. “Canterlot is at least two days away on hoof, and the most direct route there is through the Everfree Forest. Going in there wouldn’t just be stupid, it’d be virtually suicide without a guide.”
Twilight’s eyes softened and she sighed. “Come have a bath. In the morning, I’ll get you a ticket for the Canterlot Express, or if you really want to walk, I’ll get you a guide. For now, though… well, I had a sleepover planned anyway. So, what do you say?”
Trixie hesitated. On the one hoof, this was Twilight Sparkle, her long-term nemesis! Trixie would not trust her, not a whit.
On the other hoof, Twilight had never seemed to be as focused on the whole ‘nemesis’ thing as Trixie was. And a bath and the promise of a warm bed, not to mention an actual train ticket, was… frankly flabbergasting. She turned slowly. “That would be… good. Trixie thanks you.”
Twilight smiled. It was a real, earnest, honest smile. Trixie was not quite sure what to do with this. “I’ll show you to the bathroom,” Twilight said quickly, trotting away, up the stairs.
***
Trixie stared at the magnificent bathroom— no, that simple term did not do it justice— The Truly Magnificent and Splendid Room of Bathing, yes that was better. Every surface was polished crystal. So, admittedly, was the rest of the castle, but it was never really the focus. Here, the precise gem-cut tiles, the glistening reflective shine, the bevelled corners… everything shouted “Crystal! Crystal! Crystal!” The bathtub was a recessed bowl in the floor, easily large enough to accommodate eight ponies and a rubber duck, which her hostess was currently filling with steaming hot water. Dozens of bottles of soaps and shampoos and bubble baths were neatly organized on shelves around the room.
“Well?” Twilight asked, smiling at the waterlogged mare. “What do you think?”
Trixie stared around. “This opulence is truly staggering.”
Twilight’s smile faded. “I meant, the hot water enchantment.” Trixie blinked and peered closer. Indeed, the bathwater was emerging from the faucet steaming hot. And, focusing, the magician could see the faint traces of an enchantment woven on the plumbing.
“A heat spell?” she guessed. “That must take some effort to maintain…
Twilight grinned and shook her head. “Guess again.”
Trixie frowned and peered a little closer. Faint spell lines lingered in a weblike pattern, forming… “A teleport array,” she realized, nodding. “From where?”
“I have another tub, enclosed, in the basement,” Twilight explained. “Every morning, I fill it with water, and start a fire underneath. Not only is it a useful steam-powered generator for some of my experiments, I can also teleport some of the excess hot water to this tub when I need a hot bath. Most of the time, I actually need to cast a cooling spell on it. It’s a lot of work, but I get more actual power out of the process with lower constant maintenance.”
“...Yes. Very nice,” Trixie agreed slowly, her cheeks flushing with anger. As though the opulent splendor of the castle wasn’t enough, the purple mare insisted on showing off her cleverness to mock Trixie as well. “If you will pardon Trixie?”
Twilight blinked once in confusion, and then realization dawned. “Oh! Right. Sorry. Use whatever you need,” she said gesturing to the wall of toiletries.
Trixie nodded with great dignity and stiffly examined the bottles as the alicorn took her leave. A sly smirk flittered across her mud-streaked face. Whatever I need? Hmm…
***
The Great and Powerful Trixie settled back into a cloud of bubbles with a contented sigh. The foam extended over a foot above the rim of the tub. Everything smelt of artificial strawberry and soap. Trixie felt cleaner than she ever had in her life. The fuzzy feeling of the bubbles tickled at her coat as she sank beneath the foam.
It was warm. It was lovely. It was a full-body massage with homemade cookies and a “happy ending” from the charming spa mare. She could feel the dirt and mud and worries drifting away as her fur and mane untangled from the leaves and twigs she had accumulated over the course of her walk.
Holding her breath, Trixie dove under the suds with eyes shut tight. She felt around until she brushed a hoof against the bottom of the basin. She pulled her body down, down, down, until she could lie on the bottom of the bathtub. She felt her spine conform against the hard curves, heard that oh-so-comfortable cracking sound that accompanies self-chiropracty, felt the bubbles leaking from her mouth as she sighed in sheerest bliss. She felt as though she could lie down here forever. Then her lungs started burning and no she couldn’t.
With a gasp, Trixie breached the surface of the tub once more, spattering droplets of soapy water over the bathroom floor. She treaded water for a few moments before grabbing a terry cloth and some shampoo off the shelf. If she was going to get clean, she was going to do it right.
***
Dear Princess Celestia,
I’ve just had a surprising visitor
Dear Celestia,
Something of some concern has just happened, and I would appreciate
Celestia,
Trixie has come back again, and I don’t know how I can
She’s in the bathtub.
I don’t know what to do.
Help
Twilight set down her quill and rested her head against the desk. It was all academic, really. Without Spike readily available, there was no good way to send the letter to Celestia. Anyway, she had been trying her best to wean herself off of her dependence on the elder princess. This had come slowly, and with limited degrees of success. She was on her own, alone with a mare that she knew next to nothing about. Aside from what few deductions she had gleaned from her prior experience with the magician, she knew only two things about her guest; that she was from Neigh Orleans, and that “The Great and Powerful Trixie” was a stage name. She only knew that much because of what the magician had let slip to Starlight. Did she have a family? Had she always been a stage magician? How old was she? Twilight knew none of this, and it was beginning to make her ever-so-slightly tense.
And most importantly, what in the world was she doing outside on a night like tonight? Where was her wagon? Where, moreover, was her brash personality? What had happened to the illusionist to so… dilute her?
Twilight didn’t much like Trixie. She found her rude and abrasive in the extreme. Then there was the whole time she conquered Ponyville. And the time she manipulated Starlight into choosing between the alicorn and the magician…
Nevertheless, she couldn’t just leave the unicorn out to dry, especially because of the whole ‘saved me from the changelings’ part off their relationship. But what could she do? How could she help when she knew virtually nothing about the situation?
Twilight’s mouth tightened into a thin line and she nodded firmly to herself. She would just have to find out. Through secrecy and subterfuge…
***
Trixie’s coat glistened with water, and her mane was neatly brushed. She almost felt Great and Powerful again. Almost. The humiliation of accepting her arch enemy's hospitality— not to mention the events that led up to that embarrassment— was far too great for that. She grabbed a towel off the rack (so fluffy!) and dried herself roughly. She tossed it in the general direction of the laundry hamper, missing badly. She sighed and grudgingly levitated the cloth into the basket. She opened the door, and stopped suddenly.
Hanging there was a white dressing gown. It looked fluffy. Trixie reached out to stroke it. Warm, too. She hesitated for only a moment. Then, with sudden vigor, she yanked it from the hook and swirled it around herself. It was applause and cocoa with whipped cream and the twinkle in the eye of a pretty mare. Trixie almost hated herself for loving it so much. Almost. She might despise Sparkle, but she had to admit the mare had class.