“Just make sure to get my horn length right,” Lyra requested while she continued trying to play her lyre, as the train’s conductor announced that there was only ten minutes until Canterlot. She’d managed to produce actual music by using the knuckles of her fingers, but they were clumsy, and the shortest finger tended to keep getting in the way. She was trying – and failing – to not let it get to her.
“Your horn,” Trixie responded, “is this short. It’s about an inch shorter than mine, making it about an inch and a half shorter than normal for a mare your height.”
Lyra had previously had her eyes closed, but they snapped open at that. “It is not that much – whoa.”
The former unicorn hadn’t been watching Trixie work, keeping her eyes closed as she had tried to figure out how to play her lyre, trying to not be distracted by Trixie working glamor after glamor over herself. As a result, she was completely taken aback by what she saw. Normally, if one knew what one was looking for, one could always tell an illusion from a real image, as illusions rarely got all the fine details right.
This was one of those rare occasions. Trixie had done everything right: she hadn’t just replicated Lyra’s coat color, she had also replicated its appearance, the slightly shorter-than-normal, somewhat thicker hair. Trixie hadn’t simply recolored her own mane and done it up, she’d duplicated the ponytail that Lyra had described to a tee, and as Trixie moved the false mane moved and shook and stretched like a normal mane. Trixie had gotten every detail of Lyra’s golden eyes correct, the length her snout, the curve of her hooves, the lines on her face, the thickness of her eyebrows and lashes – and yes, even the length of her horn, and the details of the spiral that wound their way up its length.
But surpassing even that was the dress illusion that Trixie had woven over her cape. At first, it didn’t move right as Trixie picked up what looked like a full white-and-gold dress and attached it around her throat like a cape, but then the dress seemed to shimmer, and everything fell into place: the golden brooch with a stylized lyre on the front, the white saddle with aquamarine lines running across it, the fine details of the fabric folding over her croup and dock, and the complimenting golden shoes that went over each hoof appeared – Lyra was one of the few ponies that could wear gold and pull it off without reminding ponies of the Tyrant Sun.
Trixie looked to Lyra, smiling a little with one eyebrow raised, mimicking an expression that Lyra often wore when looking for praise. Her horn glowed, gold, not its normal blue, and a golden aura appeared around her wizard’s hat, which was unchanged. Trixie put the hat atop Lyra. “Well?” she asked. Trixie had even gotten Lyra’s voice right.
“Um…” Lyra responded, blinking. “Uh…great. Yeah.”
Trixie pouted. It was strange for Lyra to see her own body making such a face, without her wanting to. “Great?” she asked. “Great? That’s it? Princess Luna herself wouldn’t be able to see through this!”
“I’ve never seen an illusion this complicated,” Lyra observed, leaning forward and inspecting Trixie. The detail stood up to any scrutiny, no matter how close Lyra got or what angle she looked at the illusion at.
Trixie grinned brightly. “That’s better,” she said, satisfied. “And it’s not all one illusion. There’s about a half-dozen over me, plus another four or five in the cape, all working together to support each other. Mind, I can’t disguise something like this – if anypony tries to detect magic on me, they’re probably going to go blind.”
“That’s alright, you can just say there’s some magic in the dress,” Lyra observed, gently putting a finger on Trixie’s coat. Lyra knew that her coat was a little coarser than normal, but Trixie hadn’t done anything to affect her own softer hair. Then again, Lyra supposed that wasn’t likely to be a problem. “How long can you maintain this?”
Trixie grimaced. “As long as I have to,” she said, shifting from one hoof to the next and back again for a few moments. “But…Lyra, as long as I can look like you, I really think you should re-consider me ‘having an accident’ and needing to miss the show. The blame won’t be on you if we fake you, I dunno, getting hit by a carriage.”
Lyra shook her head. “Can’t,” she said. “That would involve doctors and paramedics and just too many ponies to keep the fact that you’re…well, you, and not me…a secret.”
“Maybe stage a kidnapping!”
Lyra didn’t dignify that idea with a response, instead sitting back against the inner door of their cabin and getting back to her lyre, which she told herself in no uncertain terms was not a hopeless struggle, that she could still play it, no matter what. At the moment, the plan was to have Trixie appear on-stage, disguised as Lyra, and pretend to be playing Lyra’s lyre via telekinesis. The fact that she was using telekinesis would disguise that in reality, Lyra would be on stage, invisible, and actually the one holding her lyre and playing. It was certainly more likely to succeed that Trixie’s offhoof suggesting of using her photographic memory spell to try and memorize the entire piece and the play it.
Somewhat more likely, anyway – Lyra’s latest attempt to try and use her knuckles to string two chords together failed once again. “I don’t believe this…!” she groaned. “I can’t even play ‘Smoke on the Water!’ Everypony can play ‘Smoke on the Water!’ It’s the string equivalent of ‘Moonlight Sonata!’”
“I don’t know what that is,” Trixie admitted as she removed her hat from Lyra's head and looked it over, horn glowing – its normal blue, not Lyra’s gold – and pushing magic into it.
“You know,” Lyra said, humming out the tune for a few moments before continuing, “the piano piece? By Beet Root?”
Trixie considered the music for a moment, pausing in imbuing magic into her hat. “I can play ‘Chopsticks,’” she stated, smiling as though in accomplishment.
The look of a Trixie-like grin, appearing on Lyra’s face, when stating that she could play out something that barely qualified as an actual tune, was almost enough to make Lyra put her hands to use in trying to strangle Trixie. For that matter, it was possible that it would have been enough, had the inner door to their cabin not chosen that precise moment to slide open.
---
Bon Bon was aware of the fact that she could, sometimes, be a very moody pony, difficult to get along with. However, at the moment, if she were to –
– for example –
– be angry enough to beat a certain blue unicorn to death with that unicorn’s own dismembered hind legs, she was fairly certain that this would not constitute one of her “normal mood swings” so much as “perfectly justifiable equicidal rage and temporary insanity.” At a guess, she would probably get off with twenty years in jail for voluntary ponyslaughter – she might, in fact, even be able to argue for involuntary ponyslaughter. Maybe ten years, if she could get a commendation for good behavior. When she opened the cabin door, she felt that there was probably a fifty-fifty shot of her enacting her murderous plan.
But there was a flash of blue – which was strange in and of itself, as Bon Bon had always heard that ponies with deadly intent saw red, not blue – and Bon Bon found herself face-to-face with Lyra, actual Lyra, in her normal pony body, bedecked in her toga-like gown that she wore to formal occasions, looking at her with wide eyes.
“ – ! – ” Lyra began. Before she could get any further, Lyra was pressed against the cabin’s outer door, Bon Bon’s lips pressed firmly to hers.
The cream-colored earth pony drew away after a few moments, stifling a relieved giggle. “The spell wore off?” she asked, rage at Trixie forgotten as she again kissed Lyra’s lips. “Oh, thank Luna – you know, you gave me the fright of my life – ” another kiss, her marefriend wasn’t returning them for some reason, “but it’s fine now and – and…” another kiss, this one held for several moments as Lyra continued to not return it. Bon Bon paused at the lack of affection, pulling back from her marefriend and looking her in the eye. Lyra, herself, was frozen in place, eyes wide and blushing furiously. Behind Bon Bon, there was a cerulean-tinged glow for a few moments, and a few wisps of blue smoke.
“Um,” Lyra said. Without moving her lips. Looking behind her, Bon Bon found herself staring at the pale-skinned, naked bear that Trixie had turned Lyra into, who had just shut the inner cabin door, and was holding up her forelegs as though to ward off a buck.
“Um,” the naked bear Lyra repeated.
Bon Bon turned back to the fake Lyra – Trixie in disguise, some distant part of her mind reasoned – and stared at her. Trixie stared back, frozen in place. For several long moments, there was only silence in the cabin, as outside the train whistle blew and the train’s conductor announced one minute until their arrival at Canterlot Central Station.
Bon Bon let out a slight giggle. She didn’t know why. After a few moments, the giggle returned and didn’t go away. Behind her, Lyra began to chuckle as well, while Trixie joined in a few moments later, though she stopped as she noticed Bon Bon’s front hooves both reaching up and pressing against her neck, harder – and harder – and harder – Bon Bon still giggling like a school foal all the while.
“Um – ” Trixie gasped out as Bon Bon bore down on her, her own forelegs flailing and horn glowing, though her blue-tinged telekinesis wasn’t helping as much as it might have otherwise. “She – choking– help – !”
Bon Bon felt her hind legs being grabbed by something, and found herself being dragged away from Trixie. For some reason she was still giggling. “N-no!” she gasped out between fits, forelegs working to try and pull her back to Trixie. For whatever reason, she didn’t buck with her hind hooves. “S-see? I have to – ha – I have to kill Trixie! That will undo the spell! Heehee! Right? ‘Cause that’s how magic always works in all those old stories!”
“Um, no,” Lyra said, pulling Bon Bon back. “No, sweetie, magic doesn’t work like that. It never has. Those stories are just holdovers from back when pegasi and earth ponies didn’t know much about unicorns – ”
“W-well,” Bon Bon chuckled, “haha, well, I’m gonna try it! Because – because otherwise it looks like you’re….well, if I had to guess…Trixie is going to play? Or what – or – or you’re going to be on stage? Invisible, right? Ha! That’s…that’s…nope. Gonna kill Trixie. Heeheehee!”
Bon Bon felt forelegs wrapped around her barrel. Lyra was hugging her, as best she could with her strange new front legs, her cheek pressed to the top of Bon Bon’s head. “Bon Bon, you’re…calm down. Please? This is the only thing I can do!”
“No it isn’t!” Bon Bon exclaimed, wriggling and struggling until she was out of Lyra’s grip and turning to her marefriend, her giggles forgotten. “No, it isn’t. You could…you could cancel!”
“That’d be a death sentence to my musical career,” Lyra said, “at least if I want to do anything more serious than park concerts and weddings and birthday parties.”
Bon Bon pointed at Lyra. “No, Lyra, that is a death sentence to your musical career! Trixie is a death sentence!”
“Bon Bon – ”
“You don’t even have hooves! How are you going to play? Can you play? Where’s your cutie mark? You need to – ”
“Bon Bon!” Lyra shouted. The earth pony stumbled slightly at the volume, eyes somehow managing to widen more as she noticed that the muscles in Lyra’s new body were tensed, her face set in a look of determination, mouth open slightly and teeth – her predator teeth – gritted. After a moment of stunned quiet, Lyra continued. “I’m not missing this. No matter what.”
Bon Bon’s mouth opened and closed a few times of its own accord as she regarded Lyra and took in her statement, her absolute determination. “I…” she said. “I…I’m just trying to protect you…”
Lyra blinked. “I know,” she said after a few moments, leaning forward and pressing her head to Bon Bon’s own, eyes closed. Bon Bon’s own eyes closed as she leaned into the nuzzle, imagining that it was her Lyra that she was touching, not…not whatever Lyra had become. “I know…you’re scared for me. I’m scared for me. But this has to happen.”
Bon Bon nodded in understanding. Lyra put absolutely nothing in front of her, she knew – but there were some things that stood on equal ground with their relationship. Her musical career was one of those things, or at least her intended musical career, the dream of it she’d had for as long as Bon Bon had known her. If Lyra said that backing out of this concert in some way would leave that dream stillborn…
No. No matter how crazy this Lyra’s intentions were, no matter how stupid, Bon Bon couldn’t do that do her. “Okay,” she whispered softly, leaning up and kissing Lyra’s changed lips, ignoring that they felt completely different, that her short, pointed nose got in the way. “Okay. How can I help? What can I do?”
“Help Trixie.”
Bon Bon leaned away at that, opening her eyes and regarding Lyra incredulously. “But…” she objected. “But she’s the one who got you into this mess!”
“And she’s trying to help get me out of it,” Lyra countered. “Okay? So just…just lay off her for a little bit. At least until the concert is over. We can deal with things from there. Okay?”
Bon Bon grimaced, mulling over Lyra’s request in her head before sighing. “Okay, alright.” She turned around, looking to Trixie, ignoring that she had done far too good a job creating her Lyra disguise. “What do you need?”
Trixie considered. One hoof was at her neck, as it looked like she was still trying to get over Bon Bon kissing her and trying to kill her in rapid succession. “Okay,” she said – even her voice was disguised as Lyra’s; Bon Bon idly wondered if Trixie would now be able to actually hold a tune, “okay, um…right. First, I need to know this or else it’s going to be bugging me all night – how did you get aboard? Me and Lyra barely got aboard on time, and you ran off in the wrong direction!”
“I had a seat reserved,” Bon Bon informed her. “Once I realized that Dinky had probably lied to me, I rushed as fast as I could to the station.” She made a face. “What, did you think I was going to miss this?”
Trixie shrugged, conceding the point. “And this is a two-hour train ride. Why’d it take you so long to find our cabin?”
Bon Bon’s eyes widened a little. “Er,” she realized. “I…well, I looked through the normal passenger sections first, then tried to get into the private cabins, but there were some railway marshals who tried to stop me. Um…could you, maybe, use that magic of yours to disguise me when we’re getting off? I might have given one or two of them concussions.”
Lyra and Trixie stared.
“Maybe three,” Bon Bon conceded.
---
Trixie ended up simply turning Bon Bon invisible, while giving her hat – into which she had woven a temporary invisibility enchantment – and her cape – which retained its heat-retaining enchantment and was, along with Lyra’s lyre, rendered invisible by Trixie’s hat – to Lyra. As soon as the three of them were a block from the train station, she dispelled the invisibility spell that surrounded Bon Bon, and the trio began making their way to the Princess Luna Academy of Advanced Magic and Higher Learning – usually just shortened to Luna’s Magic Academy, or simply the Academy.
By now, a dull twinge had begun to manifest at the base of Trixie’s horn, the result of her maintaining her perfect illusion. Compared to how she’d no doubt be feeling in a couple hours from maintaining the illusion, and Lyra’s invisibility, for so long, the twinge was practically nothing.
“Okay,” Lyra said, ignoring Trixie’s glare at the fact that she was talking while invisible while walking to the gates of the Academy. “Once we’re inside, just duck into a closet or something, and I’ll give you your cape back, and my lyre, then go and see a pony named Troubadour, he’s the one in charge of the night. He’ll show you to your seat, we’ll just stay there until it’s time to perform.”
Trixie shook her head, even as she caught sight of a clock perched inside of the Academy – it read 7:14. Just over forty-five minutes to showtime. “Close. You need to hold onto your lyre to practice.”
Bon Bon jumped a little at that, glancing to Trixie. “She…she really can’t play?” the earth pony demanded.
“No,” Lyra stated morosely.
“Not yet,” Trixie countered, offering a smile to Bon Bon as they passed through the Academy’s gates and started making their way towards the concert hall. “That’s why she needs to practice. She’ll figure everything out in time for the show.”
Bon Bon stared at Trixie, before nodding. “Right,” she agreed. “Right. You will, Lyra. I know you will.”
Trixie nodded in confirmation. As they approached the concert hall, Bon Bon had to leave them: she was part of the audience, not the show, and so had to enter through the main door rather than the side door that Lyra directed Trixie to, which was flanked by a pair of the university’s security. They let Trixie through without stopping her, though, apparently recognizing Lyra on sight.
“Okay – ” Lyra began in a low voice, or started to begin, but almost immediately on entering Trixie and Lyra found themselves face-to-face with a red-coated unicorn stallion, with a dark blue mane that had a shock of bright pink running through it, and a cutie mark of two crossed mandolins. He was wearing a dinner jacket and bowtie.
“Lyra!” the unicorn exclaimed, coming up to Trixie and extending a hoof. “You made it! I was starting to get worried!”
Lyra opened her mouth to respond, but put a hand to it before she could ruin things. Trixie, for her part, didn’t miss a beat, taking the pony’s hoof and shaking it. “Sorry, train was slow,” she said, glancing to Lyra as she did. The former unicorn mouthed out that's Troubadour to Trixie, pointing at him. Trixie nodded, though whether to Lyra’s information or simply to go along with what she had said, Lyra didn’t know.
“One day Luna will get them to run on time,” Troubadour said.
Trixie’s eyes narrowed. “She tries,” she said. “But really, that’s a ministerial problem – ”
“Sure,” Troubadour interrupted, looking Trixie over. “You’re not…planning on going on-stage like that, are you?”
The disguised unicorn’s eyes narrowed a little further than that. “Of course not,” she said.
“Well, um…where’s…?”
Trixie reared up slightly, horn glowing – gold now, not Trixie’s normal blue – and Lyra felt magic at her throat. Trixie’s cape was taken from her shoulders, becoming visible again – or at least the dress it had been glamored to look like – and slinging it around her own shoulders. To Troubadour, it would have looked like Lyra had conjured it from nothingness. He took a step back as Trixie grinned brightly, repeating the process with Lyra’s lyre. “Ha!” she proclaimed, bringing one hoof across the strings of the lyre in a single brisk movement. “Behold! The Majestic and Lovely Lyra Heartstrings is ready to play!”
Lyra very nearly resumed the murder of Trixie that Bon Bon had started earlier. She settled, instead, on covering her face with the palm of one hand, as though the inability to see would somehow wipe what had just occurred from reality.
Troubadour seemed taken aback as well. “Are you alright?” he asked.
“Of course,” Trixie said, getting down off of her hind legs and regarding Troubadour. She frowned slightly. “Don’t all musicians have stage personas?”
Lyra’s other hand joined the first one in covering her face.
“…sure,” Troubadour responded. “Um…maybe tone things down a little. We don’t want to give the wrong impression. We’re looking for new students, remember.”
Trixie pouted. “Fine.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Of course!” Trixie said firmly, smiling brightly. “It’s not like I haven’t done this before.”
Lyra was all of five seconds away from planting her foot somewhere firmly in Trixie’s flank.
“I thought this was your first solo show,” Troubadour said.
Trixie waved him off. “My first solo show, sure. But it’s not my first show. And it’s not like I haven’t played by myself before, in a park or out on the Academy grounds! This really isn’t any different, except that I’m getting paid this time.”
Troubadour, again, seemed confused. “Um – ”
Trixie realized her mistake almost immediately, and again waved off Troubadour. “In recognition!” she exclaimed, once again rearing up and strumming every string on Lyra’s lyre. “In all the ponies that will see me perform tonight! My name will get out there to record companies and orchestras and such!”
“Ah,” Troubadour responded. The stallion had backed away several more steps from Trixie. “Well. Um…you can just take your seat over there, on stage…I need to…um…” after a few moments of trying to think up what to do, he turned and walked away at a brisk pace.
Trixie watched him go, before looking to Lyra. “You’re not getting paid?” she demanded.