It would seem that after her brief Reign of Error in Ponyville, Trixie saw fit to join the Army, become a war hero, save my friends’ lives, and generally make a name for herself as fearsome, if eccentric, paragon of Equestrian martial virtue. That’s the gist of what I extract from Rainbow before she decides discretion is the better part of valor and takes her leave of the ground, zipping off through the sky to gather the others.
Personally, I believe her hasty exit has more to do with avoiding my wrath than any sense of eagerness to accomplish her task, but it’s hard to say. She is genuinely excited to see her friend Trixie.
The war hero.
Celestia, that’s going to take some getting used to. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for Twilight when she first heard…
… wait…
“Merciful Luna, she’s going to have a stroke!” Ponies spring to get out of my way as I sprint after Applejack and Trixie.
The chase makes it clear that it’s high time I start exercising again. I never realized how much I took my adventuring physique for granted back in the glory days. It’s unseemly to be panting like this.
It takes me a few twists and turns to find them, but once I get the right street they’re easy to spot. Between Kafil’s garb and coloration, Applejack’s stetson, and Trixie’s blasted wizard hat, the trio is not exactly subtle. “Applejack!” I cry out, trying to ignore the hoarseness in my voice, “Hold on a moment please!”
They obligingly wait for me to come trotting up. Applejack raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Sheesh, Rares, you been sprintin’ again? Twi’s castle ain’t goin’ nowhere. You gotta slow down, girl.”
“Believe me, Applejack,” I pant, “I’d love to. But I had to catch you before you reached the castle in order to clarify something.”
She tilts her head. “Okay. What?”
I just about ask, “When exactly were you planning on telling me that Trixie flipping Lulamoon became Captain barking Equestria?” but that would be neither polite nor politic. Instead, I opt for a much more measured, “Trixie, plainly, has rendered noble service unto Equestria and unto you and our friends, yes?”
Applejack frowns confused. “Yes…” she replies uncertainly.
“I see. And, perchance, were you under the impression that you had informed myself, and Twilight for that matter, of this heroism she has displayed?”
Trixie snorts. “Trixie should hope the jarhead told you.”
“Of course Ah did!” exclaims Applejack. “Ah wrote to ya right when it happened during the Balcant—” her eyes widen with sudden realization, “—Campaign.” Shock grows into horror, “Which is when they put the stop on the mail, and half the mail got mixed up afterwards, so that means… oooooh no.”
“‘Oh no?’” repeats Trixie, paling. “Applejack, do you mean to tell Trixie that Twilight doesn’t know about me? As it, at all?!”
Applejack sits heavily and pulls down the sides of her hat. “Sweet apple cider, Ah almost took Trixie right ta Twi’s door without so much of a howdee do.”
“Indeed,” I reply with a smirk. “Quite a trick to pull on a mare with only one functioning lung.”
I expect Trixie to rail against Applejack for daring to give her lèse-majesté, but, to my surprise, the magician seems to grow even paler. She glances nervously in the direction of the castle and takes a step away from it. “You know, Applejack,” she says with false unconcern, “it occurs to Trixie that it is somewhat less than polite to simply drop in on a mare unannounced.” Another step back. “W-why don’t we convene at your house instead.” She pivots away from the castle and starts to walk away. “Trixie will generously spare the p-princess the responsibility of hosting the magnificence of her Great and Powerful self—”
“Now hang on a minute, Trix,” interrupts Applejack.
“—out of consideration for her condition of course—"
“Trixie…”
“—wouldn’t want to impose—”
“Trixie,” snaps Applejack. The mare obediently stops, but doesn’t turn. She just stands with her back to the castle and, my word, is she shaking?
She is! Trixie Lulamoon, grand Ego of Equestria, war hero, legend, is shaking and stammering at the prospect of seeing crippled, half-invalid Twilight Sparkle.
I… I’m not quite sure how to take this.
Applejack steps up beside the showmare, dipping her head to look her in the eye. “Trix, what’s gotten into ya?”
The magician takes several steadying breaths. Then, barely above a whisper, she replies, “I hadn’t counted on her not knowing.”
She just said ‘I.’ Trixie just said ‘I.’
Applejack nods slowly, then loops a leg over Trixie’s withers. “Sorry, sugarcube. Ah… Ah didn’t know. Ah thought she knew, but… Ah’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Applejack,” replies Trixie gently. “Just… could… could we maybe not do this today?” Her voice is so soft. So vulnerable.
In that moment, something in me shifts. Ever since Trixie blew into town, I’ve been struggling to reconcile what I’ve been seeing with the mare I knew. The last I saw Trixie, she was an egotistical, vain little showmare with a petty streak longer than the Equestrian border and the humility of a diamond-encrusted peacock. She insulted and put down everypony she saw. When that caught up with her, she hunted down a magical artifact of dangerous power for no reason other than to punish Twilight for daring to be better than her. Yes, the Alicorn Amulet was warping her actions, but it was still her. She still chose to put it on. I saw a brief moment of decency in her when she apologized to Twilight after the Amulet, but that was quickly followed by yet more self-aggrandizing.
While I firmly approved of Twilight’s magnanimity towards Trixie, the fact remains that the experience of being ousted from her home left a mark on Twilight. She once confided to me that being cast out was a recurring fear of hers. Spike even let slip that it had been what Sombra showed her. Trixie made that fear a reality.
Twilight, virtuous mare that she is, forgave Trixie, in spite of the pain. Because it’s the right thing to do. Because that’s who Twilight is. But not me. I lacked Twilight’s charity, and was never a big enough mare to forgive Trixie for that.
It was shameful of me. I should have forgiven her years ago and moved on, whether she was truly repentant or not, but I was never willing to look past her ego and see the mare beneath. Even when Applejack and Rainbow Dash told me of her qualities, even with Equestria herself stamping Trixie with marks of heroism on the field of battle, I couldn’t see her.
I see her now.
“We don’t have to see Twi today,” Applejack is telling her. “We can do it when you’re ready—”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” I interrupt. Both mares look at me, one in confusion, one in fear. “Rainbow Dash is already rounding up the others to go to the castle, and none of us can possibly hope to intercept her, especially once she finds Pinkie Pie.” Applejack’s brow furrows and Trixie sags. “But not to worry,” I add with a warm smile, walking over to stand in front of them, “because Twilight is going to be delighted to see you.”
Trixie is stunned. “Sh-she is?”
“Yes,” I reply firmly. “And do you know why?” Trixie shakes her head, and I smile. “Because Twilight is the best of us. She forgave you when she had no earthly reason to, back when you were still a conceited, selfish pony who cared only for herself.” I reach up and prod her in the chest, my hoof brushing against her Distinguished Service Cross. “You are not that mare anymore, and if it’s one thing Twilight loves, it’s a good redemption story. And making new friends, of course.” Trixie stands silent, too stunned to speak, but a hopeful light fills her eyes and a smile tugs at her lips. “Plus,” I chuckle, “from what Rainbow Dash tells me you saved our friends’ lives, so, you know, bonus points.”
The showmare-turned-colonel stares, her jaw flapping open and shut as she struggles to find the words. “That’s…” She glances to the side, a suspicious moisture appearing in her eyes. “That’s really… I’m…” Trixie blinks and rubs at her eyes, then meets my gaze openly, her stage smile back. “What Trixie means is, of course the princess will be happy to see the Great and Powerful Colonel Lulamoon!”
I can’t help but smile at the irrepressible mare. “Of course she will.” Reaching out a hoof for shaking, I say, “It’s a pleasure to meet the new you, Trixie Lulamoon.”
“Likewise,” she replies, her voice thick with emotion.
Leaning in to whisper in her ear, I add, “You should still probably let me warn our infirm princess first, just to be safe.”
“Agreed,” she chortles.
Trixie’s usual aplomb has returned by the time we reach the castle. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that such a lapse of confidence as she displayed earlier would be impossible for her. Since I do know better, I find myself wondering how she will react when she sees Twilight.
Ah well, as Pinkie always says, we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.
We reach the perimeter defenses to the Castle of Friendship. Armed guards in the purple livery and ceremonial (but highly functional) armor of the Harmonic Guard check Trixie’s and Kafil’s papers, then wave us through. Another pair check their papers at the door itself, but make no further move to dissuade our passage.
I knock on the door and wait. For all the changes that have happened to the castle over the years, Twilight has still tried to keep it as much of a ‘home’ and as little of a ‘palace’ as possible. Thus, there’s no formal doorkeeper laid on to answer. The few castle staff do their best to respect this and, odds are, Spike will answer, just as he always has.
Twilight almost certainly won’t unless she happens to be passing by, though it does occur to me that perhaps I should have told Trixie to hide in the bushes just in case.
My fears prove to be groundless, as the door is answered neither by Spike nor by Twilight, but by a massive, scarred, bearded stallion with legs as big around as my barrel. “Big MacIntosh,” I greet him. “A pleasure to find you here. Been well?”
“Eeyup,” he replies. The huge stallion nods warmly to myself and Applejack, then catches sight of Trixie. At this his stoic face becomes sorely perplexed. I must admit that I smile at that. Finally, somepony else is confused!
Trixie, for her part, regards the stallion before her with great interest. Great interest. Great interest in the large, handsome stallion, whom she probably only saw once or twice in passing many years ago and thus probably doesn’t know that he’s—
Oh dear.
Unaware of the look Trixie is giving her brother, Applejack introduces them. “Big Mac, this is Trixie. Trixie, this is Big Mac.”
“It is a pleasure,” says Trixie demurely, taking a slow step forward as she gazes deeply into his eyes. “If Trixie had known Ponyville held such interesting stallions, she might have stuck around.”
Big Mac’s eyes widen. “Um…”
I move to stop this trainwreck before it can start, but Applejack is already on top of it, hauling Trixie back with a laugh as she starts to creep forward. “Woah there, missy! Before ya go an’ say somethin’ you’ll regret later, the big lug’s spoken for.”
Trixie visibly deflates. “Oh, phooey” she pouts. “A shame. Trixie is sorry.”
“Sorry he’s taken, or sorry for flirtin’ with him?”
“Eh. Little of column A, little of column B.”
Applejack chuckles. “Mare, we gotta find you a husband.”
“Trixie concurs.”
Still shaking with amusement, Applejack turns back to her brother. “Anyhoo, Big Mac, we’re here to see Twilight. The others will be along soon as Rainbow can round ’em up. Since Ah assume you didn’t get my letters, the short version is Trixie turned a new leaf, saved my life, became a war hero. You know the bit.”
Big Mac blinks. “Um… eeyup?”
I chuckle. “Don’t worry, Big Mac, I had much the same reaction.” Except, you know, more enthusiastically. “We’d like to all have dinner, compare notes, catch up, that sort of thing, but I think it wise if I, shall we say, soften the news for Twilight first?”
He nods sagely. “Eeyup.”
“Capital. Could you please point me to her and then inform the Chef to anticipate a crowd?”
“Eeyup.”
“Thank you, darling.”
In other contexts, I would not have dared invite myself into another pony’s home and declare “you’re having company and here’s what your staff is doing.” However, this was my home for the duration; I know how things work. Chef loves his job and thrives on such challenges (mostly he enjoys cussing and carrying on about how ‘impossible’ it will be while he effortlessly does it). As for Twilight, I know her well enough to know that she will want to make a Friendship Event out of this when all becomes clear. Like a good Stewardess of the Castle (which, in a way, I was), I’m anticipating her desires. And giving Chef more time to moan and cuss. He’ll probably come chew me out later, in keeping with our long-established dance.
But, as Spike would put it, “That’s future Rarity’s problem.” Present Rarity’s problem is how to tell Twilight about our unexpected guest without giving the poor dear a heart attack.
Not surprisingly, Twilight is in the library. The walk there is spent pondering how best to broach the topic. Thankfully, it is a long walk, giving me plenty of time to consider my options and oh look we’re here.
Hm.
That walk is not nearly as long as I remember it.
Applejack and I exchange a glance at the door. “So… do you want to or should Ah?”
“Darling, please! I have this well and truly in hoof.”
“Ya’ll have no idea what yer gonna say, do ya.”
“Not in the slightest.”
Taking a deep breath, I push into the room, leaving Applejack, Kafil, and the mare, the myth, the Great and Powerful Trixie outside. Twilight, to the surprise of exactly zero ponies, has her muzzle buried in a book. “Hello, darling,” I half sing as I enter. “What are you reading today?”
Twilight looks up from the tome as I enter. “Hi, Rarity. I was wondering who was at the door.” She holds up the book for me to see. Not that it helps much – the title is in a language that looks like it dates back to Old Pegasopolis. “The complete works of Aristotail,” she announces happily. Then, with a shy blush, “Big Mac and I are reading it to each other.”
“Aw, that is so precious,” I gush. Hopelessly nerdy and oh so precious. “Well, I regret to interrupt such a romantic evening, but I’ve come to you with something rather… unexpected.”
“Oh?” inquires Twilight, setting the book down. “Nothing bad, I hope.”
“Not bad, no. Just, as I said, unexpected. To put it mildly.” I purse my lips. How the blazes did I manage to walk here without a script in mind? “Darling, allow me to propose to you the following hypothetical question.”
She claps her forehooves together. “Ooh, I love hypotheticals. Hit me.”
Yes, this will hit you all right.
“Well, darling, it’s like this,” I begin. “Suppose you were to have a guest one day. Say, a pony who once wronged you.”
Twilight rubs her chin thoughtfully. “Okay. Somepony specific, or just a generic hypothetical.”
“Specific,” I say. With the affectation of an afterthought, I add, “In fact, for the sake of argument, let us suppose that this hypothetical pony is, oh, I don’t know, Trixie.”
The princess raises a regal eyebrow. “That’s some hypothetical.”
“Yes, well, it’s just something that’s been on my mind lately,” comes my flippant (though technically factual) reply. “Now, for the sake of this hypothetical, let us suppose that Trixie is somewhat different than when you last saw her.”
“Different, like, ‘personality change’, or different, like ‘grew a second horn’?”
Wouldn’t that have been a sight! “The first one,” I reply. “Now, let us suppose that her personality shift is rather dramatic.”
Twilight giggles. “You mean like she stopped using the third person?”
She did use the first person once earlier, so maybe. “Erm, not quite, darling. I was thinking more along the lines of, well, that is to say…” My restraint evaporates and the worlds tumble out, “Let us suppose she found her patriotic spirit and became a great and legendary war hero who saved our friends’ lives on the battlefield.”
For a moment, Twilight simply regards me with a blank expression. Then she almost falls out of her wheelchair laughing. And we’re talking long, hard laughter, complete with snorts. It is amazing how much volume that one lung is generating, truly. Several times she tries to get words out, only to dissolve into snorting hilarity.
I am really, really glad Twilight put soundproofing spells on the library walls.
The lavender laugher finally gets her guffaws under control and grins at me, wiping a tear from one eye. “That was a good one, Rarity. Hoo boy! I was laughing so hard I thought you were gonna have to call the doctor. Trixie? A war hero? Serving with the girls on the front line to defend the free world from the Dominion menace? That would be something to see!” She giggles another few times.
All things considered, I think this is going rather well.
Once her giggles die down, she turns thoughtful. “Though, when I stop to think about it, perhaps it’s not charitable of me to laugh. After all, any pony can be a hero – all it takes is a willingness to do the right thing when the decision requires great sacrifice or risk. I could see Trixie making that choice. Sure, she’s a selfish mare, last I saw anyway, and heroism requires selflessness. But, hey, ponies change. If she saw an evil she couldn’t ignore and did something selfless once, maybe she caught the bug. Maybe she realized how much happier she could be if she started looking to something higher than herself to find happiness…” Twilight shrugs. “When you consider it in those terms, it doesn’t seem so farfetched. And, as to saving our friends, there was a lot of overlap with the different theaters of war, and transfers weren’t unheard of. Several years of fighting means she gets moved on occasion, winds up with each of the girls at one time or another. Given that serendipity follows the six of us around, well, it might play havoc with statistics but the chances of it happening are probably decent. So, yeah, I could hypothetically see that.”
I raise an eyebrow, finding myself wondering how much of Twilight’s educated guessing lines up with the path the real Trixie took. “Interesting analysis,” I say.
“Interesting hypothetical,” replies Twilight. “I have to ask, though, what spawned the question? You see an ad for one of her shows in the paper or something?”
“Not… exactly. Twilight, darling,” I run my tongue over the back of my teeth while I choose my words, “let us consider another hypothetical… one wherein the first hypothetical… was… not… hypothetical.”
Twilight tilts her head curiously. “Wouldn’t that just bring us back to the original question? I mean, if the you’re asking if, hypothetically, the first hypothetical isn’t a hypothetical, then it’s still hypothetical because…” she trails off, her eyes widening, “wait… unless…” her stare fixes on me, “unless this is your way of cuing me in that this isn’t hypothetical at all, which means that…” her hooves fly to her cheeks, “oh, Celestia, this is real.”
I clear my throat. “Well, darling—”
“A-and Big Mac hasn’t come back yet, which means you probably asked him to do something first, and you’re here with the hypothetical instead of heading to dinner with Applejack like you’d been planning for days, which means that she really became friends with our friends, which suggests you probably bumped into her which means,” her bulging eyes lock on the door, “war hero Trixie Lulamoon is right outside my door, isn’t she.”
My gaze moves from Twilight to the door and back to Twilight. I click my tongue and rock on my hooves. “Hypothetically yes.”
Twilight falls utterly silent. She just sits there, staring at the door with mouth agape and eyes wide. Honestly, she’s silent for so long that I’m starting to consider actually calling the doctor when she blurts out, “I really flipping hope I remembered to renew the soundproofing spell on the library this month.”
Once Twilight’s had a few moments to collect herself, her thoughts, and her tattered sense of reality, I explain the mailing mixup that led to our present predicament. When I’ve finished, she snorts in irritation. “Never would have happened if Ditzy Doo hadn’t gotten embroiled in that whole business with Daring Do, Caballeron, and the Goblet of Infinite Possibilities.”
“And that business with the Talon operatives that followed,” I add. “What with the Casque of Forlorn Dreams and all. I shudder to think what the Dominion would have done if they’d gotten their claws on it.”
Twilight shudders. “Then there was Blue Falcon Incident in Stalliongrad. I understand the griffons not knowing better, but the ponies should have known to leave that artifact buried. If Daring and Ditzy hadn’t fulfilled the Prophecy of the Doers…”
“Not to mention Budapone.”
“We never mention Budapone.”
“Right. Sorry.”
Twilight massages her eyes. “Even with a war on, there’s still no end to the crazy adventures. I guess we should just consider ourselves lucky Ditzy proved to be unnaturally suited to the task.”
I nod. “Agreed. If I hadn’t been convinced of destiny and Providence long ago, that mare would have won me over.”
Looking up, Twilight notes, “She’s still on the Crown payroll, you know. From what I hear, she and Daring have made quite the name for themselves in Intelligence circles.” Shrugging her one remaining wing, she remarks, “Ah, well. All things considered, having the mail be late was probably worth it to not have to worry about, you know, magical catastrophe. Even if it meant having,” she gestures to the door, “this sprung on me.”
“Agreed. Though at least this is a pleasant surprise.”
“And, if it’s one thing Ditzy taught me, it’s that heroes can spring from anywhere,” says Twilight with surety, nodding in confirmation to her own words. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s do this.”
I make my way to the door admit the others. Kafil, unsurprisingly, is standing at attention with a bland expression of professional disinterest on his face. Applejack is sitting, twirling her stetson on one hoof while she watches Trixie. The mare of the hour is pacing nervously back and forth. At least, she appears nervous for the split second between when the door opens and when she rears to her stage pose. “Well? Is the princess ready to receive the Greeeeat and Powerful Colonel Lulamoon?”
Is anypony ever truly ready? “Right this way,” I say with a gesture. As she falls in next to me, I ask, “So, did you hear anything out here?”
“Trixie did not. Why?”
“Oh, no reason.”
We reenter the room and Twilight starts to pull her wheelchair around the table, a cheerful smile on her face as she prepares to greet Trixie casually.
She doesn’t get the chance. Trixie marches to a precise position on the floor, one she seems to know by instinct, and snaps to full attention, right hoof raised in salute. “Colonel Trixie Lulamoon, 35th Field Artillery Regiment reporting, your Serene Highness.”
Twilight blinks rapidly, rearing back in surprise. She’s gotten much more comfortable in her royal duties over the last few years, but at heart I think she’ll always be a town librarian. “Erm, thank you, Colonel Lulamoon. As you were.” Trixie relaxes into parade rest. Twilight pulls her chair back to her previous position and gestures to one of the other chairs. “Please, sit.” Trixie does as she’s bade, and Applejack and I find seats of our own; Kafil opts to stand.
Even sitting, Trixie looks like she’s at attention. Despite knowing why, it’s still rather bizarre. Borderline unsettling.
Twilight seems to agree. “At ease, Trixie,” she says. “And permission to speak freely while I’m at it.” With a wry grin, she adds, “Something tells me we’ve got a few things to discuss.”
Trixie relaxes, answering with a wry grin of her own. “You would be correct in that assumption, Princess Twilight Sparkle. Congratulations on that, by the way. You’ve earned it.”
“Thank you, Trixie. It’s…” she chuckles, “I’ll be honest, it’s a little odd to hear you say that so genuinely, but thank you.”
“It is odd, Trixie will grant you that,” concurs the showmare with a smirk. Then, more soberly, “Or perhaps it is simply odd that it took so long.” Twilight cocks her head and Trixie looks down, the brim of her non-regulation hat obscuring her eyes. “This conversation has been a long time coming, Twilight Sparkle. The fact that it almost didn’t happen only makes that more apparent.” She looks up, an intense light in her eyes. “But we have to have it out, Sparkle. We have to clear the air. Trixie needs to. Before the others arrive, before we sit around and tell war stories and you are regaled with the tales of the Great and Powerful Trixie, you need to hear some things.”
“O-okay,” stammers Twilight, paling at the intensity of the stare. “If you think that’s necessary.”
“It is,” sighs Trixie, reaching up a hoof to take off her hat. “It really is.” She sets the hat down and toys with the point, a thousand-yard-stare in her eyes. “What Trixie has to say is not something that comes readily to her, Twilight Sparkle. Even after all this time. She’ll have to admit some rather… ugly things about herself.” Her eyes flick upwards. “Promise Trixie you will let her finish before you interject. Either of you,” she adds, fixing me with a firm look. “Applejack already knows this story, but Trixie can’t be interrupted with words or hugs or songs or anything until she is finished.”
Twilight nods. “I promise.”
“I promise,” I echo.
“Thank you,” she says, before letting her eyes drift back into the distance. “Trixie never liked you, Twilight Sparkle,” begins the mare. “You were smarter than her, more powerful than her, greater than her in every respect.” Dryly, she continues, “You were also a much better pony than Trixie, but she didn’t really care to think about that at the time. It was hard enough looking at all the other ways you were better. Hard enough knowing that you were a superior magician without considering that you were better at heart.” Trixie snorts. “But hiding from your vices forever is difficult to do. The blasted Amulet made that painfully clear. Such petty vengeance to wreak against a mare whose only crime had been to save me from my own arrogance.”
She shakes her head. “It’s a terrible thing, Twilight Sparkle, to think the world revolves around you. Every imposition is an insult, every reversal a blasphemy. To play at being the Creator is to make your own pathetic, flawed self the center of the universe.” I can see her muscles tensing and untensing. “And what a miserable universe it is.”
Trixie brushes an imaginary speck of dust from her hat, then regards Twilight with a level gaze. “When you forgave Trixie for what she did to you and your friends, you showed a far greater mercy than merely that of the law.” Her eyes flash. “You showed her the mercy of ripping away the veil, so that she might see her vices in all their nakedness.” She leans forward, her eyes locked on Twilight’s. “Do you have any idea how many years it was since Trixie last examined her actions in the light of any morality other than her own crude selfishness?”
Twilight mutely shakes her head.
“Neither is Trixie,” admits the mare frankly. “It had been so long. And she didn’t take it gracefully, oh no,” she chuckles, leaning back. “Trixie still tried to blame it all on you, on your friends, on bad luck, on the cruel whim of fate, anything but herself. She couldn’t bear to look in the mirror and see such ugliness. So,” shrugs Trixie, “she didn’t. Trixie poured herself into restarting her career, branding herself as penitent and humble, but still unchanged, except in one respect.” Her lips curl in a bitter smile. “Now, the lies she told herself haunted her in the loneliness of the night.”
Trixie closes her eyes. “Jealousy had been there from when Trixie first saw your power, Twilight. Petty hate, too, after the Ursa. Now, though, the hate was deeper yet – a complex hate, born of debt and guilt and the brutal knowledge that the hate was wrong, that Trixie was wrong.” She swallows. “That she had been wrong for a long time.” Opening her eyes, her gaze traces the lines in the ceiling. “Trixie hated feeling like she did. She hated you, and hated that she hated you. So she got this crazy idea: return to Ponyville with some great show, some magnificent act that even the legendary Twilight Sparkle would be impressed by. Then, when Trixie finally had some way to say that she was truly better than you, she could stop hating and move on.”
The showmare snorts. “Foolproof, eh? No way that could possibly go wrong. Anyway, Trixie threw herself into the scheme, sweating night and day over it, determined to one day return and best the legend. She was actually in Manehatten working on the performance when a special bulletin came over the radio.” Trixie licks her lips. “They… they said there’d been an attack at the Hoofenburg Summit. They said Princess Twilight Sparkle had been shot, and that she probably wouldn’t make it, and that we were now at war, and there was Trixie…” tears form in her eyes, “and there was Trixie…” she half sobs.
The mare breaks off and gives a great, shuddering sigh as the first tears fall. “And there I was, sitting on my flank in Manehatten, scheming, plotting to show up the mare who saved me from myself, all because I was too much of a coward to look myself in the mirror.”
Trixie Lulamoon hangs her head as the tears fall.
Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to go embrace her, to hold her as I would Sweetie Belle and stroke her mane until the crying stops. Twilight is in similar anguish. But a promise is a promise, and Trixie has more to tell us.
After a time, she resumes, her voice shaking. “I’m not sure how long I wandered the streets. Minutes? Hours? It could have been days for all I saw of the world around me.” She looks up with tear-stained eyes. “All I could see was you, Twilight. The mare who had shown me a way out of myself, a way to happiness, if only I’d looked, and now… now I’d never get to thank you for that. So, I wandered. I wandered until I found my way into a recruiting station. Signed the papers the same day.”
Trixie reaches up a hoof and dries her eyes, her sobs receding. “With my knack for pyrotechnics, they assigned me to the artillery. 977th Battalion. We hit a lot of heavy fighting from the get-go. It was awful and yet…” a fond smile touches her lips as she looks heavenward, “I had the strangest sense of peace. For the first time in heaven knows how long, I was living for something bigger than myself, and it felt good.” She nods in satisfaction. “What’s more, I was good at it! So good that I was a sergeant within a few months. A few months later, they’d given me a field commission. Within a few years, I was commanding the battalion. There were citations, medals, the accolades of my fellow soldiers… I was getting the recognition I’d always craved, and yet,” a beatific smile brightens her face at the memory, “none of that compared to that feeling I got in Basic when they told us you were going to live, when I found out I hadn’t missed my chance to tell you all this.”
The colonel brings her gaze back down to earth and rests it on the astonished Twilight. “So, now that we’re here, all I can say is… thank you. Thank you for everything.”
Now, she is finished, and the silence that follows is weighty. I’m not surprised to discover that I broke down crying in the midst of that and simply didn’t realize. I try to think of something to say, some profound response to all the profundity our old antagonist has displayed, but I can’t.
Twilight, though, knows what to say. Or, rather, what not to say. She wheels her chair over to Trixie, her eyes wet with tears, and embraces her. Twilight, it seems, is still wiser than me, as the Princess of Friendship should be.
When the long, sisterly hug finally comes to a close, Twilight can’t help but make a humble admission. “Just so we’re clear, since you really seem to have put me up on a pedestal, I truly did forgive you back then, but I’m not a perfect mare. I harbored plenty uncharitable thoughts about you for years after the fact, and, full disclosure, when Rarity told me you were here, I thought she was joking and cracked up.”
Trixie chuckles. “Perfectly understandable, Princess. And oddly comforting in a way. It’s good to remember the saints are sinners too.”
Twilight blushes. “Oh, I’m not a saint.”
“Then how do you explain your role in saving my soul?” retorts Trixie.
Blushing even more furiously, Twilight wheels back. “Look, can we drop this, please? I’ll make it an order if I have to, Colonel.”
“Cheater!” accuses Trixie, sticking her tongue out. “I’ll lodge a protest!”
“And for Celestia’s sake,” laughs Twilight, “now that we’ve had the heart to heart, can you please drop the first-person thing? It’s freaking me out.”
“Trixie happily obliges. It freaks her out too. Also,” she licks her lips, “Trixie was promised fine castle fare in lieu of Army food, and believes it should be approaching dinnertime.”
“Oh, certainly,” replies Twilight, deadpan. “I’m sure Chef has whipped up some incredible barracks gruel.”
Applejack snorts with laughter and I can’t help but titter at the imperious frown on Trixie’s face. “You are a low and evil mare, Twilight Sparkle.”
The princess cackles and starts wheeling towards the door. “Come on, Great and Powerful. Chef’s about to knock you clean out of your hat.”
“Trixie looks forward to it.”
With that, the pair set off down the hall, the rest of us trailing behind.
Murmuring so as not to be heard by the vanguard, Applejack remarks, “Mercy’s a heck of a thing, ain’t it?”
“A blessed thing,” agrees Kafil.
Watching the two former foes chat amiably, I can’t help but smile. “Well, darlings, you know what they say: Friendship is Magic.”