//------------------------------//
// These are the Days of Our Lives 
// Story: It's a Kind of Magic 
// by Sixes_And_Sevens 
//------------------------------//

Whatever else could be said about the current situation, at least Mac didn’t have to run all the way up to the farmhouse to see Applejack. Their paths met about halfway along the trail. Mac, of course, was already a bit breathless, but one didn’t need to be Fetlock Holmes to see that the farmer was in rare form. Her green eyes were flashing like St. Elmo’s Fire. Her face was a shade of red that rivaled Mac’s own coat. If the elder Apple hadn’t known better, Mac would have sworn that steam was coming out of her ears. “Now, AJ,” Mac said, mustering their internal calm. “Don’t you go flyin’ off th’ handle…”
“Off th’ handle nothin’!” Applejack stormed. “Outta mah way, brother!”
Mac’s ears twitched back slightly, but they soldiered on regardless. “Applejack, Ah jes’ don’ wantcha ta do summat y’all’re gonna regret. Why don’tcha wait ‘til you got all the facts afore ya do anythin’?”
“Ah got all th’ facts Ah need,” she shot back, storming down the path again, leaving Mac desperately playing catch-up.
“Ah’m sure it ain’t as bad as Miz Rarity said…”
“Oh, so that’s how y’all found out,” Applejack said. “Ah got it from Fluttershy.”
Mac winced. Miz Shy didn't have the same animosity toward Trixie that Rarity did, but she apparently hadn't had the necessary calming effect on Applejack to keep her stable. “AJ, please, jes’ calm down. Ya don’ wanna start nothin’ like this.”
“She’s already started it an’ finished it both,” Applejack snapped. “Ah’m jes’ on clean-up, apparently.”
Mac struggled. “She saved ya from the changelings, ‘member?”
The orange mare drew to a halt, her brow cinched. “...Come again? Mac, Ah dunno what y’all’re on. Bloom didn’t have nothin’ ta do with any changelings.”
Mac stopped. “Bloom?”
“Yes, Bloom, ya plumb eejit! Our sister? The one what jes managed ta crash an ol’ cart into town hall tryin’a drag race with Scootaloo? That Bloom?”
“Oh.” Mac was quiet for a long moment.
Applejack sighed, suddenly weary. “What else should Ah know about?”
Mac hummed and glanced away. Mebbe it woulda been better fer Rarity ta tell her after all…


***


Mr. Cake whistled to himself as he pulled out the day’s first batch of treble-chocolate fudge brownies out of the oven, and slipped in a batter-filled bundt cake pan. Over on the counter, his wife was slicing strawberries for a three-layer shortcake. Outwardly, she looked fine, for the most part. There were subtle clues, though, which betrayed her inner concern; the slight shake of her hoof as she cut the strawberries into not-quite regular slices, the force with which the knife cut into the board beneath it, the ongoing angry rant against the background, principles, temerity, and parentage of that blue magician, the rhythmic kicking of a hind hoof against the stool.
After nearly fourteen years of marriage, you tend to notice these sorts of faint signs. Mr. Cake studied his darling snickerdoodle for a long moment, cookie sheet still held in his mouth. One had to be very careful when defusing Cup Cake while she was in a bad mood, he reflected as he set the sheet on the counter. Pinkie had demonstrated that several times, the hard way. Cup was as sweet as anything in the shop while in a good mood, but in a rage, she’d bite your head off like it was gingerbread.
“Dumpling?”
“Yes?” She glanced up. Carrot Cake froze. He had not planned quite this far ahead.
“Er. Have we made those rainbow cupcakes yet?”
The blue mare relaxed slightly. “Oh, the ones that Pinkie wanted made for Rainbow Dash? No, I don’t think so. Why did she want them again?”
“Something to do with an Awesome-versary, I believe. I’ll make the batter if you’ll do the cloud icing.”
Cup smiled. “Alright, as soon as I’ve finished with the shortcake.” She returned to slicing strawberries, though much more slowly. She sighed, suddenly, setting down the knife. “Do you think I’ve been overreacting to this whole… Trixie situation?”
Carrot hummed, not meeting his wife’s eyes. “I think we should at least give her a chance,” he said. “Ponies do change, after all.”
The blue baker sighed, setting the knife down on the cutting board. “I suppose you’re right,” she said mournfully. “It’s just, I worry, Carrot. You know I do.”
Carrot nodded. He did indeed know. Cup Cake was a worrier, and always had been. It had only gotten worse since the twins had been born. He felt guilty about that; artificial insemination had been the only possibility for them, given his condition. Though both bakers loved their children dearly, he knew that on some level, Cup had found the whole thing unnatural. She had never said anything, but he knew it was true.
In many ways, Carrot Cake was more of a worrier than his wife ever had been.
“I don’t think she’s going to try to take over Ponyville again, crumpet.”
“No,” Cup sighed fretfully. “Neither do I. But that isn’t the point.”
The lanky stallion paused. There was a faint whining sound in the air. He ignored it. “Isn’t it?”
“No!” the thickset blue mare rose from her stool and began to pace the kitchen. “I don’t think she means to do it, the poor dear. It just happens around her.”
Carrot frowned. “What does?”
His wife spun around to face him. “Chaos! Mayhem and destruction follow in her wake. The ursa wasn’t her fault, not directly. From what I’ve heard, she was made queen of the diamond dogs, once, and that she was nearly implicated in a jewel theft in Manehattan, neither time because of anything she did. Not directly, anyway. But it’s the life she lives! All flash and dazzle and no substance to her. She’s a loose firework, Carrot, and you mark my words. She’s going to bring this town nothing but destruction.”
As though punctuating her remark, the oven took the opportunity to explode.


***


Spike and Trixie stood alone among the flowers. “Well,” said Spike. “At least she isn’t still mad at you.”
“Yes,” Trixie replied dully. “Because Trixie’s very presence sending mares running away screaming is by far the better option.”
Spike shrugged. “Eh, that’s just Lily for you. I’ve seen her run away screaming from things that are way less scary than you."
(An incomplete list of things from which Spike has seen Lily run away screaming: A stampede of rabbits, a cloud of dust, a patch of dandelions, personal intimacy, her own shadow, a frog, a pair of scissors, trigonometry, a peanut-butter sandwich, a balloon, a broom, a red rubber ball, and a certain purple-and-green drake.)
"It’s just the way she is.”
The magician groaned and didn’t so much sit as fall down on her backside. “Regardless. Let us tally up exactly how today has gone. Trixie has silenced a bakery, argued with a pair of pegasi, and made a mare run away. Screaming. This is not the sign of a good apology tour, in Trixie’s opinion! What is to come next, panic in the streets? Physical violence? Assassination?”
Spike leaned against a wall. “Trixie, I think it’s just about possible that you’re overreacting.”
He was going to say more, but the explosion cut him off. Trixie shot the dragon a glare. “Overreacting indeed,” she muttered as screams began to leak into the flower shop.
Spike didn’t hear her. He was too busy peering out of the flower shop’s big storefront window. A plume of smoke could plainly be seen invading the sky over Ponyville. “Rut me, I think that’s Sugarcube Corner!”
Trixie leapt to her hind hooves. “Then onwards! We must offer our aid!” She realized that Spike was already racing down the street, and quickly she galloped after him.


***


Rainbow Dash jerked awake with a snort. Typical, She’d just drifted off for her first morning nap after finishing her first shift of cloud arranging, and what happened?
Wait. What had happened? She peered around her napping cloud. No interfering birds or prankster pegasi. Nothing directly below her, nor above her. Hm. She turned to Ponyville proper. Massive crystal castle, yep, fine. Loads of apple trees, okay, good. Houses standing, pillar of rising smoke, giant wedding-cake clothes shop, yep. Wait. Middle thing again. Houses standing? No, after that. Pillar of rising smoke. Yes, that was it.
The cyan pegasus stared at the grey cloud of ash for a long second, scowling at it for wrecking her nap. Then, something clicked. “Holy horseapples! Fire! Fire!”
She positively dove off the cloud, mind clicking from zero to sixty in moments. Ponies thought she wasn’t exactly the brightest candle in the… candle holder thingy, and they weren’t entirely wrong. Dash would freely admit that, if given a test over basic algebra, about the best thing that she could be expected to return was a paper glider. But damned if it wouldn’t be the best paper glider in the history of folding paper! Before her hooves finished leaving the cloud, she had already drawn up a map of the day’s weather schedule in her head. Before her wings beat the air for the first time, she had selected the rainiest areas for five miles around Ponyville. Before they beat the air again, she had worked out what weather teams would be closest, and before three seconds were up, she had worked out exactly where she needed to go.
The wind she generated whipped leaves off of trees and frisbees off of roofs. The ground beneath her blurred into green and tan, and mentally she ticked off the miles left to travel. “Blossomforth! Orion! Pull tail over to Sugarcube Corner!” she bawled as she barreled past. “Take all the cloud you can!”
Not even stopping to see if they had heard, Dash spun around, slicing out a hunk of cloud and pushing it off from the main body, flapping frantically back towards town center. She had to go much slower this way, else the cloudstuff would break down, but she pressed as close to top speed as she could go. This had the effect of a considerably more sedate and less blurred view of the ground. If one were to look, they might even be able to see blurs of color that could possibly have been ponies. On the off-chance that one such pony was running along the same path beneath the pegasus, they might even be identifiable. Rainbow squinted down below her, counting the side streets as they swung by. Blue unicorn. Running. Running faster? Than her? RUNNING? Not fast enough. Go faster! Faster!
The wind roared as Dash redoubled her efforts, pouring more power both into her wings and into the cloud, solidifying the shape further. She stopped on a dime, letting the cloud carry forward without her as she abruptly turned around, flew back the way she had just come, spun around again, and flew straight into that cloud, busting it for all she was worth.
There was an almighty rumble of thunder, and then a deluge poured forth right over Sugarcube Corner. Rainbow breathed a sigh of relief as the smoke began to clear, her face relaxing into a smile. One which promptly evaporated when she stopped, at long last, to look at the world around her. “Horseapples.”


***


By the time Spike and Trixie arrived on the scene, Sugarcube Corner’s back half was a smoldering wreck. Several ponies were lying on the ground, coughing violently. Nurse Redheart was busy with another three paramedics loading Mr. and Mrs. Cake onto stretchers, both alive but badly injured. “Ce-LES-tia,” Spike said, staring at the wreckage. “What happened here?”
Twist looked up from where she was trying to wipe soot off her glasses. “I gueth you could thay…” she pushed the still-dark glasses up her snout. “Buithineth ith booming.”
“YEAH!” Snowflake agreed, tiny wings fluttering as Twist took off her glasses again and spat on the lenses.
Dash, meanwhile, had flown down from above to hover over the newcomers. “Huh. Heard you were back in town, Trixie. Uh.” She scratched the back of her neck. “Hi? Anyway, Spike, we’re gonna need your help. The building might still be a little on fire, and we really don’t wanna wait to find any more victims any longer than we gotta. You think you could…”
Spike nodded. “Sure, Dash. I’ll just go in through the front. Not sure I like the looks of the new entrance.”
“Heh, yeah. You go on in, we’ll keep ya covered from out here.”
Spike nodded and jogged quickly toward the bakery’s front door.
Dash glanced sidelong at Trixie. “Back, huh?”
“For now,” the magician said, guarded.
“Hm.” Dash glanced back toward the bakery, lips pursed tight. “Thanks.”
Trixie blinked. “Eh?”
“For the save with the changelings. Never got to say it before you ran off. So, thanks. You’re alright.”
The unicorn opened her mouth, then closed it. “You are welcome,” she said. “Trixie appreciates your forgiveness.”
“Did I say I forgave you?” Dash demanded, raising a brow. “I’m still kinda pissed at you for the other stuff you pulled. But you aren’t as bad as I thought you were.”
“Oh.” Trixie deflated slightly.
“Why did you come back, anyway?” Dash asked, not once looking away from the bakery.
“Trixie would prefer not to say. She has been offered rooms and employment with Sp— Twilight.”
“Oh, you’re one of the ‘reformation’ guys. Alright!” Dash nodded, finally glancing at the unicorn. “Cool. Good luck with that.”
“Trixie does not need luck!” the magician paused for a long moment. “But Trixie accepts your good wishes in the spirit in which they were given.”
Dash glanced at the unicorn again, slightly more calculating this time. “Well, I guess you’re a step ahead of Starlight, anyway,” she mused. “Took her weeks to start catching herself like that.”
Trixie frowned slightly at that. “Trixie thought Starlight did very well for herself.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Dash agreed. “But it took her, like, forever to realize that you really shouldn’t solve all your problems with mind control, y’know?”
“Trixie supposes so. But when all one has is a match, everything starts to look like a firework.”
Dash nodded at that. “I get that. So. I guess we're going to be friends now.”
Trixie blinked. “... Oh?”
“Way of the world,” Dash said. “Fish gotta swim, pegasi gotta fly, Ponyville gotta befriend the latest reforming magical superweapon.”
“Trixie is not sure about that descriptor,” the mare said, shifting slightly awkwardly. “She is super, yes, but not exactly a… weapon.”
“Sure, fine, whatever,” said Dash, glancing back at the ruined bakery. “Man. I loved this place,” she said, disappointed. “Pinkie’s gonna freak out when she sees this, and not in a happy ‘let's party’ way.”
“Hm,” Trixie said, scratching her mane. “Ah. Well. It can be rebuilt, can it not?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Dash agreed. “Like, the town’s restoration budget is crazy good. I think the Princesses actually donate a ton of money every year for fixing stuff.”
“Why?”
The pegasus shrugged. “I dunno. Ponyville has a lot of accidents. Like, y'know, Ursa Minor attacks. We're literally at the border of the Everfree. Sugarcube Corner will be open for business again in maybe a week, but Pinkie’s gonna be homeless until then.”
Trixie brightened. “Pinkie can borrow Trixie’s wagon! She already promised to get it unstuck from the mud, and this will be an appropriate repayment for her deed!”
Dash stared. “Uh, or she could crash at Twilight’s massive castle.”
“Oh. Yes.” Trixie slumped, and Dash winced.
“Uh, good thought, though. You're on the right track!”
Suddenly, a wailing cut through the air. Trixie glanced around. “What is that, a baby? Two babies?”
Dash went very still. “Did anypony get Pumpkin and Pound?” she demanded, wheeling on the crowd of bakery customers.
A chorus of denials and excuses met her. The pegasus muttered a cuss, then turned to the building, only to see Spike walking out the door again. “All clear on the ground,” he called.
Dash waved a hoof. “The twins are upstairs! Go get them down!”
The dragon's blank, horrified stare filled Trixie with concern. “The stairs are out!”
Dash cussed again, louder this time. A mare with a fan cutie mark gasped and covered the ears of the nearest foal. “Hey! Get off me, Hay Code!” Rumble growled, pushing away her hoof.
The prismatic pegasus paid them no heed. “Okay,” she muttered. “The twins’ room is… there, so I can get in through that window.” She beat her wings once, twice, only to see a powder blue shape running through the door of the bakery. “Trixie, what the HAY are you doing?”
The fan-marked mare glowered at Dash in silent fury. “I hope you know that sort of language will get you a censure,” she said primly.
The pegasus made a gesture that suggested exactly what Hay Code could do with her censure, then zoomed up to the window, and prepared to buck it in.


***


The front room of the bakery had been only lightly charred, but the acrid stink of smoke hung in the air, mixing with the smell of wheat and sugar to create the sickly-sweet stink of a terminally burnt cake. Trixie galloped past the tables and leapt over the counter, stumbling on the landing, then pushing through the ashen doors to the kitchen. It was a blackened, blasted place. Great scraps of metal littered the ground, along with pieces of what once might have been a laminate counter. Twisted utensils were strewn everywhere, and Trixie picked her way carefully over them. She dared not use magic to clear away the mess. She would need every drop to pull off her next amazing feat. Of course, nopony would see most of it. Perhaps she could wait for more of a crowd to arrive…
No. That was amulet-talk, plain and simple. She was beyond that now. She had trained and improved on her own merits, not indentured to some cheap piece of tawdry tat’s twisted trickery. She was most of the way across the kitchen. Oh, that was a rather large puddle of blood there. She stiffened her resolve and continued to step lightly towards the stairwell.
The smell of smoke pervaded the air, irritating her nostrils. She sneezed once, twice. Good. She ought to have enough time between sneezes to focus on the task ahead. She gazed up at the second floor, now a balcony overhead, gauging the distance in her mind. Trixie closed her eyes, horn flaring as she focused. There was a subtle pop, followed by the sensation of being drunk. Through a straw.
When she opened her eyes once more, she stood perched on the edge of the ledge. It shifted beneath her weight, and she quickly scampered to a more secure-looking section of the floor to catch her breath and regain her bearings-- too much magic left her feeling more than slightly giddy. The ledge slowly crumbled away behind her, so she moved swiftly towards the twin siren wails. The further she trotted along, the more stable the floor became. Nevertheless, she didn’t slow her pace as she hurried along to a door left ajar, even as she heard the sound of glass shattering from a room nearby.
On the other side, a childish paradise; blocks and toys lain mostly in their chest, thick shag carpeting in a bright, spring-green shade and walls painted a sky blue. A crib sat against the wall, and inside, a pair of tiny ponies, one pegasus and one unicorn, both wailing their little hearts out.
“Hey now,” Trixie cooed. “Who’s a good baby? You are-- Trixie means is. You both is, using the plural you…”
The pegasus stopped wailing to look at her with confusion, but the unicorn didn’t let up. Trixie let out a huff. “Trixie really wishes she had her hat right now. Bunnies make babies stop crying, right?”
“A-boom!” said the pegasus.
“Yes, an extremely loud ka-boom,” Trixie murmured, only half listening. Then she blinked as an idea sprung to the forefront of her mind. “Well, why not?”
She lit her horn again and leaned over the crib. Tiny, silent fireworks sprouted in midair above the crib, little flashes of light. The unicorn fell silent as she and her brother stared up at the show in wonder. The magician smirked. “Okay. Now, who wants a pony ride?” she asked.
“Trixie!”
The magician turned. “Ah, Rainbow. Trixie has the situation well in hoof,” she said, levitating the twins onto her back. “She appreciates your speed in helping, however. That is correct, is it not?”
“What the Tartar--” Dash glanced at the twins, who were now cheerfully gumming Trixie’s mane. “-- sauce are you doing, Trixie?”
“Rescuing a pair of infants. Obviously,” the unicorn replied, opening the window and crawling out onto the gabled roof overlooking the ground far below.
“Trixie,” Dash said. “You can’t fly! Let me take the twins, I’ll get all three of you to safety.”
“If Trixie cannot fly, explain how she got upstairs when there are no stairs to climb,” the unicorn replied.
“I-- you-- what?” Dash sputtered.
“Trixie will handle things from here,” she said, tucking a baby under each forehoof. Then, she jumped, lighting her horn as she went. She heard Dash cry out for the barest instant, the sound dopplering away as she teleported.
Her hooves met the turf at a faster clip than she had first supposed; her teleport had occurred later than she had hoped. Still, she planted her hind hooves, and remained bipedal for long enough for the shocked crowd to recover. Moments later, the twins were snatched from her hooves by a polychromic blur. “What the rut,” Rainbow Dash snarled.
Hay Code let out a gasp and swayed on her hooves, but nopony paid her any mind. They were too busy watching the pair of blue mares staring each other down. “Trixie does not know of what you are speaking,” the unicorn sniffed. “She heard children in danger, so she went to rescue them, as did you. Trixie merely happened to do so more efficiently.”
There were a few murmurs of approval from the crowd, but Dash was undeterred. “How, by putting them in more danger? You could’ve sent all three of you smashing to the ground!”
“Well, Trixie didn’t!” the magician said, somewhat hotly. “Trixie can pull off a couple of teleports easily enough.” There was probably a point at which a pony ought to stop. Some small part of Trixie recognized this as exactly that spot. The momentum of temper and magical exhaustion, however, pushed her over the edge. “Trixie thinks you’re just jealous that she rescued them first!”
Spike, who had been making his way over, faceclawed and picked up the pace.
“Jealous?” Dash asked, incredulous. “Of you? Oh, yeah. Totally jealous of some two-bit magician with--”
“Dash,” Spike said from just behind the pegasus.
“No, no,” Trixie said, waving the dragon back without removing her increasingly blurry gaze from the pegasus. “Let her finish.”
Dash glowered. “You’re a liar, Trixie, and a fake. You keep giving us new reasons to not trust you, but Twilight keeps giving you chance after chance, but Tartarus if I know why! You’re just a, a total--”
A dog barked in the distance. Cranky Doodle and Matilda both flushed. “Well I never,” said the former, while the latter sat down in embarrassment. Hay Code fainted dead away. Spike scowled. “Rainbow!”
Trixie’s mouth hung agape, but Dash wasn’t done yet. “Heck, for all we know, maybe you blew up Sugarcube Corner, just so you could play hero!” she shouted.
“Rainbow Dash!” Spike roared, traces of fire lighting the air. “Too far!”
Trixie blinked. She was too woozy and exhausted from the excess of magic to fully register what was going on. The world began to fade into bright blobs of color and sound. “She was with me the whole time!” purple and green said.
Mostly-blue cowered. “Okay, okay, but can you blame me for maybe not trusting her?”
“Yes. I can, and I am. She’s really trying to-- Trixie? Trixie? Trixie, are y  ou       a l      r    i    g  h       t     ?