April 21st, 1005 ME
10:17:23
Knock Knock Knock!
Trixie lay crookedly across the hammock inside her wagon.
Knock Knock Knock!!
The mare snorted, snored, and trilled in her sleep.
Knock Knock Knock!!!
“Hey!”
A muffled voice shook the doorframe from outside.
“Trixie!”
The wake up call persisted, combined with the heavy knocking.
“Are you awake in there?!?”
“Mrmmmfff...” Trixie sat up—a river of drool clinging to her lower muzzle. She blinked blearily at the walls and rubbed her frazzled, sleep-stretched face. “Guuuuuh... Not enough... mmmmm... marshmallows in Trixie's coffee...”
“Trixie you there?”
“Trixie, you there?” She echoed, rubbing her face. She paused in the middle of it, then popped one bloodshot eye open. “Trixie, you there???”
Her gaze flew to the mess beneath her hammock. Then to the daylight squinting in through the shudders. And finally to the crooked clock on her wall that hasn't worked properly since her tour in Fillydelphia.
“Oh butts!” Trixie floundered and floundered and floundered and—flailed—and finally threw herself off the hammock. “Oh butts on a butt cracker!”
“Is everything okay in there—?!”
“Starlight is so sorry, Trixie!” Trixie spat, hopping over debris and pausing only to straighten her mane. “I-I mean... Trixie is so sorry, Trixie... I mean—!”
She tripped over a pile of smoke pellets, somersaulted, hopped back up, tripped again, and fell against the door.
“Ooomf! Grrnnngh—”
Using all her strength, she slapped the lock loose and swung the door open wide to the blinding morning light. Her body slumped halfway down the wooden steps propped against her parked wagon. Coughing up dirt and grass blades, she nevertheless smiled up at the figure before her.
“~Goooood morning, Starlight~!” Trixie sputtered through a crooked grin.
“Uhhhhhhhhhh...” Spike hovered in place on leathery wings. A shrug of his scaly forelimbs. “I'm not Starlight.”
“... … ...” Trixie frowned while fallen in a forty-five degree slant. “Why aren't you Starlight?”
“I guess it's... all thanks to the egg I hatched from? Eheh...” Spike cleared his throat. “Still, I think Starlight was here not that long ago.”
“She was?!?!” Trixie's rear limbs kicked and bucked against the wagon for a few embarrassing seconds. At long last, her blue lump of a body rolled over until she plopped upright, sitting on her hooves and covered in flakes of grass. “What? When? Where? How? Why?” She spat out some dewy vegetation. “Pffft! And to what extent?!”
“Look there,” Spike said, pointing at Trixie's wagon wheel.
“... … …?” Trixie spun around. Leaning against a single wheel, there was a small box of tea bags, along with a stack of saucers and two teacups. “Huh?”
“I think she left those there for you,” Spike said. “There's a letter pinned to the batch of tea.” He touched two claws together in mild shame. “I hope you don't mind that I glanced over it. I figured that if it was a message, it'd be best if you were awake for it. That's why I knocked just now.”
“Let Trixie look at that...” Frowning, the mare plucked the letter loose from the wagon wheel and scanned it with squinty eyes.
Dear Trixie,
I am so so terribly sorry, but this experiment that I've been working on overnight has completely dominated my attention. I absolutely must get it done with, or else all this time will be wasted. That means I'm going to be a teensy weensy bit late for our tea session this morning. I dropped this by early while on the way to and from the Royal Storehouse for some more magical ingredients. I figured you'd be sleeping in late—as usual. So hopefully you're not too upset.
In any case, I'll be joining you sooner than later. That for sure is a Pinkie Pie Swear. Go on ahead and start pouring yourself some tea without me. I shouldn't be long. Plus, it's your favorite flavor. I ordered it myself. Please try it out? I look forward to hearing you tell me what you think of this blend once I'm talking to you face to face. Should be an hour or so from ten. I hope that's okay.
Your friend for all time—now and forever,
Starlight Glimmer
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh...” Trixie hung her head backwards and glared into the sky. “Why are her magical experiments so blasted important all of a sudden?”
“Yes, well, at least you've got your tea!” Spike put on a hopeful smile and raised both arms. “Ta-daaaaa...!”
“Oh, lizard servant,” Trixie sighed, staring sadly at Starlight's note in her tender grasp. “You make for a lousy prestige.”
“I'm... uh... s-sorry?”
Trixie squinted at the words towards the bottom of the page. “So formal. Starlight must really think that Trixie is mad.”
“Well, aren't you?” Spike sweated slightly. “I mean—don't get me wrong—but it's kind of a nice color on you.”
“Mmmmmmm...” Trixie tongued the inside of her muzzle. “Trixie prefers 'mildly abrasive.'”
“Is there a shorthand for that?”
“'Great and Powerful' tends to work.”
“That's not exactly shorthan—”
“Anyways, Trixie isn't so much mad as she is... disappointed.” The mare stood up, dusting herself off. “Still... Starlight did bring Trixie her favorite blend.” A calm breath. “And she did say she'd only be an hour or so late.”
“Well, it's about a quarter past ten o'clock now,” Spike said, glancing at the blue sky and flitting birds overhead. “Is that too far from your scheduled hang out?”
“Mmmmmmmm... not really...”
“Well, I'll leave you to... whatever, I guess.” Spike waved and flapped his way towards the Castle entrance. “That tea looks delicious, by the way. Best shared in the company of friends!”
“Uh huh. Sure. Whatever—” As Trixie levitated the teabag boxes...
...she paused.
Her gaze turned towards the wagon interior. Between the piles of junk and the dangling hammock, Trixie caught sight of her scrapbook. It lay open to one of the last pages plastered with photos. An image of Starlight and Trixie beamed at the viewer just before a grand, inescapable sea of white.
“... … ...” Trixie squirmed in place. At last—wrenching her eyes from the scrapbook—she jerked her gaze towards Spike. “Say... Mister Dragon.”
“I... actually have a name but I'll go with 'Mister Dragon' because it somehow sounds handsomer.” Spike flew back with a polite smile. His claws were folded behind his levitating backside. “What's up, Trix? I can call you 'Trix', right?”
“Sure. Fine.” Trixie contorted the muscles of her jaw in order to pronounce what came next: “Would. You. Care. To. Join. Trixie. For. Some. Tea?” She squinted one eye like she was defusing an unknown bomb. “...Friend?”
“Heyyyy...” Spike touched down at the base of the steps, smiling. “Don't mind if I do! I mean...” He pointed with a claw. “So long as it doesn't carve too big a hole into yours and Starlight's supply.”
“That depends.” Trixie tossed her mane and tilted her nose up. “Do dragons have too voracious of a thirst?”
“Well, we breathe an awful lot of fire,” Spike said, slowly following Trixie up the steps and into her wagon. “But... sandstone and quartz tends to offset that. Especially when dipped into golddust.”
“Hmmm...” Trixie navigated the cluttered forest of her wagon interior and opened a cabinet, magically pulling out a tea set. “Trixie suspects it will be a drop of water inside a volcano, then.”
“Well, that's one heck of an analogy...” Spike struggled and fumbled with side-stepping through the cramped place. He wrung his claws as his slitted eyes darted left and right. “I... uh... I've never been inside your wagon before.”
“Consider it an esteemed privilege, courtesy of the Great and Powerful Trixie!”
“It's... uh...” Spike smiled through a brief layer of sweat. “... … ...it's a lot messier than I expected.”
She spun her head about with a furrowed brow. “Excuuuuuse Trixie?”
“Did I say 'messy?'” Spike raised a claw. “I-I meant 'dense!'”
“Mmmmmmmmmm...”
“Y'know... like a good book! A real page-turner!” Spike's nose scraped past boxes full of stage props. “...like War and Prance.”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie has a very elaborate stage show to perform in multiple... multiple venues all across Equestria.” She collected water into a teapot and zapped the base of it with a heating spell. As steam rose from the liquid, she produced four tea bags from the box Starlight sent her and dipped them in. “She can't afford to get rid of any of this stuff or else she might end up short-hoofed at one of her many performances!”
“Including this stack of boxes that are covered in dust?”
“Those are disappearing and reappearing snakes for the street charm trick that Trixie has reserved for whenever the pilgrims from Saddle Arabia visit once a year!”
Spike blanched. “You have snakes boxed up in this wagon?! Wouldn't they be dead from starvation?”
“Silly dragon...” Trixie smirked while dipping the teabags in and out. “The snakes are fake.”
“Oh.” Spike tongued the inside of his mouth. “Doesn't bode well for the realism of the presentation, does it?”
“Just because some of the props may not be 'alive' doesn't make the actual performance any less real or impactful in the heart of the audience.” Trixie turned to squint at him, gesturing in the light of her enchanted horn. “Once you've captured the imagination of your very own crowd, you can use stars on string to make their dreams come true!”
“Wow. That's kind of a snazzy way of doing things.”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie does not do 'snazzy,'” the showmare said. “Try upgrading that to 'Dazzling.'”
“Heh. Sure.” Spike folded his arms and smirked. “Y'know, I consider myself something of a thespian soul.”
“Pfffft!” Trixie's eyes rolled as she turned back to her tea brewing. “Sure you do.”
“Straight up! I hosted Twilight's first ever Hearth's Warming Pageant!” He gestured. “And then there was that show that Pinkie Pie and I hosted for the Appleloosan buffalo and settler ponies.” He scratched his chin in thought. “Rarity's fashion show before the Great Galloping Gala...”
“Trixie never heard of these venues.”
“Oh, they were all a very... very long time ago,” Spike said. “And most of them were thrown together at the last minute.” He blew a puff of smoke sideways and smirked in mix-pride. “I guess you could say I'm an expert on improv.”
“Uh huh.”
“Y'know... we should do a show together!” Spike beamed. “I bet nopony's ever heard of a dragon being sawed in half!”
“Oh, please, Trixie would never debase herself by allowing—” Trixie's pupils shrank. She gazed at the wall in intense thought. “Dragon scales... being sawed in half...” She rubbed her chin. “That would be pretty mesmerizing...”
“Or at least... y'know... let me have a go at reorganizing all of your supplies.” Spike grimaced as he stared at the junk all around him. “I'm sure you have your own delightful chaos to juggle, Trixie, but you could save soooooooooooo much more space if you really wanted to.” He pointed at himself with a pleasant expression. “Trust me! I'm an expert on shaping things up for gifted ponies!”
“You... … ...” Trixie blinked over at him. “... … ...would make such a nice offer to Trixie?”
“Sure!” He shrugged. “I mean, why not?”
Trixie opened her muzzle, lingered in place, then poked at the cabinet beneath the shelf where she was brewing tea. “Hmmm...” she hummed. “It's not often that Trixie finds help... from such an eager source.”
Spike struck a proud pose, sticking his scaly chin up. “That's because you've never had a dragon assistant before!”
“No. I suppose not.” Trixie cleared her throat and tossed her mane. “Trixie expects that she would have to pay you.”
“Eh. It's on the house...” Spike waved.
Trixie's brow furrowed. “Really?”
“You think this place is a mess? You should see how Twilight leaves her study here in Ponyville ever since being stationed at her throne in Canterlot!” Spike nudged a few boxes, smirking. “And she only pays me in books!”
“That... sounds positively pathetic.”
“Eh. I'm used to it. But—y'know... she's royalty... and that sorta makes me royalty.” A draconian wink. “A lot of luxury comes with having a part-time job in Canterlot.”
“I imagine so...”
“And soon it will be full time!” Spike rubbed his palms together, bearing a fanged grin. “Then I will be livin' it up! Just you wait!” He cleared his throat, then took on a slightly more dignified stance. “Besides, if I wanted to be paid, it'd be in delicious rubies. And—no offense—but I don't think you have those lying around this wagon-home of yours... unless you have a gem-juggling act for the stage.”
“Trixie juggles many things.” Trixie said. “None of which involves fragile currency.”
“But I thought magicians were always taking coins out of other ponies' ears...”
“Coins and gems are very different. And the latter would require donkey ears to even remotely work.”
“Hey...” Spike shrugged. “You're the expert.”
“Indeed Trixie is.”
He craned his neck. “How's the tea comin'?”
“Tea has arrrrrived!” Trixie said, rolling her r's through a victorious grin.
“Cool beans!” Spike exclaimed, perking up. “I didn't even ask. What's the flavor?”
“Honey lemon,” Trixie said.
“Really...?” Spike arching an eyecrest. “Sounds like a cough drop.”
“You're a cough drop,” the showmare retorted. “Besides... I've yet to discover a way to distill peanut butter into a brew. And by that I mean Starlight has yet to discover a way.”
“You're really keen on letting Starlight choose the flavors, huh?”
“She got me into drinking tea,” Trixie said, pouring two cups of the steaming quaff. “She says that it 'calms her nerves, makes her relax, helps her think,' yadda yadda yadda...”
“You... don't sound very enthused.”
“It was never the tea itself that Trixie enjoyed,” she said, putting the kettle back in place and levitating two full teacups. “Not at first, that is.” She trotted carefully across the crowded wagon, floating one cup beside her and sending another slowly Spike's way. “For the most part, it's just been an excuse for Trixie to steal some of Starlight's time for hanging out.”
“Ah. So... it's less about the tea and more about the friends!” Spike caught the cup, cradled it, and smirked. “Well, guess I should feel special, then!”
“Yes, you—” Trixie blinked, standing in place. She looked at Spike, at her teacup, then at Spike again. “Hmmm.” A shrug. “Anyways...” She leaned back and blew at the steamy surface of the liquid. “...the calming effect has grown on Trixie.” She tilted her head forward for a sip—
“Hey! Is that a scrapbook?”
“...?” Trixie sat up straight. Her lips hadn't even touched the liquid. Her eyes fell on the green book that had fallen to the ground, splayed open with the photographs exposed. “Oh. Meh. Just a collection of photos...”
“Are they SFW?”
“Huh?”
“Y'know. Safe For Whelps!”
“... … ...yeah?”
“Nifty!” Spike pointed with a claw. “Mind if I take a look?”
“Meh.” Trixie shrugged, eyes rolling. “They're just pics Trixie took of the beautiful sights while on tour throughout the years.”
Spike grabbed the book, sat down, and propped it in his lap. “They're... mostly just pics of you.”
An artery pulsed in the mare's forehead. “It's as Trixie said...”
“Oh hey!” Spike took a sip—unaffected by the still-steaming-hot temperature of his brew. He smiled and pointed at a page about one third of the way through the book. “This is from years ago! Isn't that amazing?”
Trixie cocked her head aside. “What's so amazing about it?”
“Just... look how different Ponyville is! No Castle! No School! It's just as quiet and unassuming as it was when Twilight and I first moved here!”
“Mmmm...” Trixie slumped a bit, rubbing the back of her neck and blushing. “...Trixie didn't take a whole lot of photos of Ponyville...” She gazed dejectedly at her dull reflection in the tea. “...not the first time I was here, at least.”
“Hmmmm...” Spike took another sip as his slitted eyes scanned the next few pages. “Guess I can't blame you.”
“So many photos Trixie has taken,” Trixie muttered. Her face in the steaming tea stared back, layered with exhaustion and monotony. “But... Trixie can't say that there are many memories.” She leaned back, looking through the stream at all the collected junk in her mobile home. “For nearly a decade, Trixie has been dedicated to her craft. To her calling. Once upon a time... it was all very exciting. Thrilling, even. And that's what got Trixie going to begin with... I-I think... … the sheer enthusiasm of starting out. The dream of impressing so many ponies and gaining so many admirers. But—the more Trixie looks back at it all—the more she realizes how little she's really accomplished. Just chasing a dream for the sake of a dream... but never finding a place to settle down. To take root. And every space she occupies is just... empty. Those photos—they try to fill in the gaps between, but with what? A singular, lonesome color? It was once bedazzling to Trixie, but now? It's so familiar. So stale. And a constant reminder that maybe... just maybe—all these years and tours and accomplishments—has really just been time wasted. And Trixie will never... ever get those years back.”
Silence.
Trixie grimaced. She had said too much.
Nevertheless, Spike hadn't provided a response. Perhaps it was for the best.
“Well...” Trixie shrugged, smirking. “At least Trixie was a hero who saved Equestria, once.” She leaned in for her first sip of the delicious brew. “She can proudly squeeze that underneath her saddle—”
Steaming hot liquid rippled against her front left fetlock.
“Ow—!” The mare leapt in place, nearly tossing the contents of her floating teacup. “Ow ow ouch!” She reared her front hooves, backed up, and glared down at the offending spill. “What in Luna's name—?!” Her lips pursed as her pupils shrank.
The floor of Trixie's wagon was pooling over with steaming liquid. This originated from a fallen, overturned teacup. And that originated from Spike's body...
...which was lying limply on the floor with limbs splayed randomly about.
“... … ...” Trixie cocked her head curiously to the side. “... … ...lizard servant?”
There was no response. Spike's scaley chest rose slowly up and down, and there were more than a few spastic twitches to his face and spines.
Trixie blinked. She gently floated her cup of tea down onto a random box, then shuffled over to where the whelp had collapsed. “Uhhhhm...” She pensively leaned forward and softly batted the little dragon's face and neck like a curious blue cat. “Hello? Equestria to Twilight's chameleon assistant? Are you there?”
After half-a-dozen repeated smacks to the face, Spike still remained unconscious. His snout hung open—a serpent's tongue dangling limp and dribbling with drool. There was the hint of rapid eye movement beneath the crests of his face.
Trixie bit her lip. Trotting closer, she leaned down and pressed her fuzzy ear against his reptilian belly. The contact was far hotter to the touch than she expected, but she listened anyways.
Sure enough, Spike was still breathing. The showmare could feel his lungs moving—along with a questionably pronounced gurgle issuing from his belly... repeating every other breath or so.
Trixie stood up. She rubbed her chin while gazing contemplatively at the whelp. Slowly, a curtain of alarm washed over her azure features. Her gaze darted upwards—locking onto her own teacup that she placed on the box. Cautiously, she approached the container... lifting its steamy contents with a wave of telekinesis. She held her breath as she floated the thing closer to her squinting gaze for inspection.
There, beyond the steam and the rippling surface of the broth, Trixie could make out tiny particulates floating through the liquid. They had a noticeably scarlet look to them—like microscopic rubies swarming through the drink.
Awake with sobering curiosity, Trixie shuffled over to her cabinet. With glowing magic, she opened a cupboard, tossed loose a fresh smattering of junk, then pulled out one of many dusty textbooks. The binding was fitted with naturalist motifs: swirling vines, leaves, and flowers. The unicorn flipped through several pages, then lingered on one particular portion of the book. She ran her hoof down the floating tome, taking its words to heart. Then, pivoting towards the levitating teacup, she murmured an old pony incantation and aimed her horn at the beverage.
Zaaaap!
The steaming liquid floated up out of the cup, encased in an invisible rectangular solid conjured by Trixie. Then—as the showmare sweated with concentration—the floating liquid flattened and shed itself free of the tiny ruby particulates. Trixie's gaze narrowed on the scarlet dust—which she condensed together into the air until they formed a solid pinhead singularity. She then compared this sample to an array of examples illustrated in the book beside her.
At long last, she paled and murmured: “Cockatrice blood...”
Trixie's muzzle hung open in disbelief.
“This much of a dose... could put a manticore to sleep...”
She looked at Spike's unconscious body.
“Starlight once taught Trixie that...”
A lump formed in her throat. She looked from Spike to the batch of tea that had been delivered to her wagon, partially opened.
“Starlight. You... … ... you... tr-tried to drug Trixie?” A grimace crossed her muzzle. “But... why?!?”
An ominous crack of thunder shook the entire wagon.
Trixie shrieked, dropping the levitating tea. It steaming contents splattered all across the wagon. Spike remained unmoving.
“What was that...?!” Trixie squeaked, shaking all over. Even before she was done speaking, she heard a rising tumult issuing from outside. Whatever it was, it caused the entire wagon to shake from wheel to wheel to ceiling to wheel. Whimpering with intermittent squeaks, she stumbled for the door. Her little blue body reeled from side to side, smacking into collapsing boxes and nearly tripping over a spilled array of spreading junk on the floor.
Then, at long last, she burst through the door to the outside world.
"Mrmmmfff!" Trixie teetered, flailed, and fell flat on her chest. "Ooomfff!"
The earth tickling her flesh was... undulating.
"... ... ...???" Slowly, Trixie's twitching eyes peered up... up... up...
...and the sky was surging down... down... down. The sky had been blotched black in random places, and shadows larger and darker than any feasible thundercloud descended like tentacles into the quivering countryside of Equestria. A savage wind picked up, twirling to and fro in frightful gusts as if prophesying the advent of an epic cyclone. The air thinned. Sunlight dimmed by the second. And the treetops...
They collectively swayed under the chorus of panicked screams.
More thunder: this time resonating like a predatory growl through the skin of the continent. Trixie's wagon shook again, and she sat up with palpitating breaths. Her eyes reflected more tendrils of deep shadow reaching down from the heavens, raking the mountains and valleys beyond with otherworldly purpose. The manifestations possessed a color: deep purple like far-off nebulae through a telescope. The more Trixie sat there and observed the unthinkable, her nose tickled with a wet, rusty smell. Like decay in fast forward.
The thunder continued, doubling and tripling. The screams grew just as thick, reaching a fever pitch in occasional salvos until...
KAPOW!!!
Something exploded somewhere nearby. Trixie jerked her head towards the heart of Ponyville. It was just in time for her beady eyes to spot chunks of wood and brickwork flying heavenward... and settling back down with precipitous chaos. Two or three pieces of the debris were flailing. With limbs.
Trixie paled all over, her coat paling. Ears drooped as she saw the sky blackening thicker and thicker. Pockets of sheer nothingness were being ripped into existence overhead like an invisible knife to the firmaments of the planet.
At that moment, as her heartbeat reached a rapid gunshot tempo, she didn't think about dying. She didn't think about all the tours she may never get to do. She didn't think about who or what was responsible for this sudden chaos: Discord or Tirek or Sombra or radioactive squirrels. She didn't think about Princess Twilight Sparkle or any of the other alicorns and what they might be doing to counteract this. She didn't even think about peanut butter crackers.
Trixie stammered: "Starlight..."
In the next breath, she leapt to her hooves. She galloped straight across the shuddering earth. Halfway before departing from the shadow of the Castle of Friendship...
"Butts!" she pony-cursed, skidding to a stop. Prancing about, she dashed back to the wagon. "B-butts!" She made a tiny hop inside. Seconds later, Trixie made a tiny hop back outside... this time carrying an unconscious Spike draped over her backside. "Butts butts butts butts!"
There was a loud crumbling noise.
Panting, Trixie looked back. Her eyes twitched.
A dark purple tendril of shadow had flopped thickly over the Castle. The majestic crystalline structure bowed under the pressure, and within seconds the length of the bleak conjuration had lashed over and smashed Trixie's home-on-wheels to splintery bits.
"Buttttttttts!" With Spike in tow, Trixie galloped straight into the end of all things.