The trek back to Ponyville was arduous at best. With all of the claws on each of his four hooves sawn off down to the scales, Spike was unsurprisingly sore on his feet. No matter how he tried to walk—on two legs or four—he was horrendously lame. Each step he took was limped, and though he tried to smile, his pain shone through in his eyes. He, of course, had hence needed a ride back home.
With her magic reserves drained and not replenishing from fatigue, the best that Twilight could do was carry him on her back.
Trixie was in an even more worrying state. She had—to give her credit—dragged herself wearily to her hooves and had tried to hobble forwards, her injured leg dragging uselessly. Any normal mare would have elevated it, but in her case, doing so was impossible when the muscle in question was torn in two. She yelped in pain each time that her hoof tapped against the ground or a rock, but she kept going valiantly.
As soon as Starlight stepped up to her side and offered a helping hoof, though, she all but collapsed where she stood. Now she, too, was being carried back to town—though Spike undeniably had been given the better transport. There he was, lounging on fluffy alicorn wings over a few chipped nails, whilst she hung like a ragdoll in Starlight’s magical aura because her leg had been half torn off by a monster.
Needless to say, Trixie couldn’t have been more thrilled—relatively speaking—to see the first rooves of the Ponyville cottages through the treeline. Not long after, they reached Trixie’s wagon, only just past the outskirts of town.
Twilight came to a complete stop. She glanced towards her castle in the far distance, her ears falling. She then stomped a hoof and huffed loudly, spinning on the others and telekinetically throwing Spike over to Starlight.
“Take him,” Twilight snapped. “This is your mess, not mine. I should be asleep. I’ve not slept in two whole days. And I’m not walking a step more until I get some sleep.”
Starlight frowned. “Twilight, I don’t—” She paused, watching as her friend turned and walked straight for the wagon. Her horn crackled. The door popped open with a small click. Without another word, she then slipped inside, her tail swishing.
“Hey!” Trixie cried, though her voice was somewhat shaky. “That’s my wagon! I didn’t give you permission to—”
Twilight rounded on her. Her horn erupted with a colossal burst of magic. Trixie shrunk back in her telekinesis bubble.
“You know what? You’re right. I’ll just… bunk with Starlight. Right. Good idea.”
Twilight frowned. “You can sleep on the couch,” she snapped, wings flared out. She then relaxed and sighed, turning back into the wagon. She flopped onto the bed heavily, the springs creaking. The door slammed shut with a bang.
Starlight turned to Trixie, being careful not to dislodge Spike who was now laying atop her back. A frown was evident upon her muzzle. She then shrugged and began to walk in the direction of the castle, her eyes constantly flicking to Trixie in the background until her curiosity became too great. She froze and spun on the wounded mare, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“You’re uncharacteristically okay with this,” Starlight said. She didn’t utter another word. She didn’t need to; Trixie knew exactly what she was talking about.
“What? She’s helped me out big time tonight. Least I can do is let her sleep at mine.”
“That’s not like you.”
Trixie gasped, raising a hoof to her forehead in mock horror—but froze when she brushed over the stump of her horn, knocking a few more fragments off of it.
“Well… my alarm clock is rather effective,” was all she said to begin with. At both Starlight’s and Spike’s raised eyebrows, she sighed and added, “You’ll know exactly what I mean at breakfast.”
The pair looked to each other, then glanced at Trixie. For a moment, Starlight even considered turning back and warning Twilight of whatever prank was sure to be played upon her—and then an owl’s hooting shocked her back into reality. It was stupidly early in the morning. They needed to sleep. And Twilight would probably roast them all alive if she got awoken again, good intentions or not.
Starlight shrugged. Probably best to just leave it. And with that, she began the short trek to the castle, offloading her two wounded patients before she finally collapsed in her own bed.
Oh, Celestia, what a day.
She sighed, slipping under the covers and letting her eyes drift shut slowly. But, try as she might, her mind simply couldn’t quite turn off. She tossed and turned, trying to get comfy. But with each passing hour, she found herself only growing increasingly infuriated and fed-up.
In some ways, the buzzing of her alarm was almost pleasant that day. At least she could justifiably get up at that time.
And it was in that moment that she realised what had been haunting her all night long.
Breakfast.
Twilight.
Oh, no.
She trotted down the hallways slowly, picking up Spike and Trixie on the way. They both roused groggily, their late night escapade—and wounds—slowing them down massively. Not that Starlight overly minded; she was arguably in less of a hurry than usual.
But it had to happen eventually. With a deep gulp, after having stood awkwardly outside the doors to the large dining room for easily five minutes, she sighed and nudged her way in. Twilight, of course, was already there. She had seen better days, to be sure.
“Trixie,” Twilight greeted curtly, raising a hoof. She clasped it over a strand of her now blackened mane, extinguishing a smoldering ember. She coughed. Her eyes then became slits and she stood, wings flapping dangerously and horn sparking slowly. She stepped closer slowly, deliberately. Her tail swished behind her, worryingly calm. “How come you forget to mention that your alarm clock is a loaded fireworks launcher?”