//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: Gingerbread House of Cards // by clppy605 //------------------------------// A series of heavy, pounding bangs roused Mayor Mare from sleep, the thuds practically shaking her home. The aging mare raised her head from her pillow, finding her neck stiff and sore. Her head bobbed around as she peered around the room, giving her eyes time to adjust to the darkness. Moonlight poured in from an ornate set of windows beside an equally brilliant oak door, a door which looked an awful lot like her front door. She swept her gaze across the room again, more aware and taking in the details of the room. Pictures of her family dotted the walls, covering the old and outdated wallpaper infecting her walls. A low wooden table sat in the center of the room; an empty wine glass laid on its side, the coaster half-underneath practically falling off the edge of the table. This wasn't the mare's bedroom. She glanced down at the lumpy cushions that she was asleep on moments earlier. The forest green and faded rose floral pattern of her couch greeted her. The couch that's in her living room. Three measured thudding bangs rang out again, the front door vibrating with each hit. The sound reverberated in Mayor Mare's skull. Pain followed and lingered even after the noise ceased. She closed her eyes and shook her head – immediately regretting the decision as a sickening lump pulsed in the bottom of her throat. Questions swarmed Mayor Mare’s already muddled mind, but one pressed its way to the forefront of them all. Just what in Equestria did she do yesterday? Mayor Mare tried to picture the previous day in her mind, running through the schedule she had. All she clearly recalled were meetings. Meetings, meetings, and even more meetings. Each one blended together, her day little more than images of blurry colors running through her office. She couldn’t recall a single pony she spoke with yesterday. The pounding on her door returned, as did the pounding at the sides of her head. Mayor Mare groaned and pulled herself free from the heavenly, lumpy couch she wished to pass out on. A wave of dizziness struck her the moment she planted all four of her hooves to the floor. She steadied herself with her coffee table, inadvertently kicking an empty bottle on the floor. Mayor Mare paused. A bottle? She tracked the dark green bottle as it rolled along the wooden floor, stopping when it hit a small rug. The paper label faced out, back towards where it was previously lying. The silvery-blue glow of the moon illuminated the paper sleeve enough for Mayor Mare to read it; "Granny Smith’s Special Blend". New questions tugged at her. Why did she pull that one out? The Apple family only produced that brew once and never planned to again. That drink was rare – special – and Mayor Mare would never take it on a whim. The banging on her door returned, now faster and plenty more in repetition than before. Whoever was there was getting very impatient. Mayor Mare covered her eyes with a hoof, groaning at the headache pounding deep in her head. As much as she wished otherwise, last night was a blur; trying to remember specifics of it only brought new aches upon herself. Figuring out what drove her to drink could wait until she had her morning coffee. Besides... It’s a good thing she still has a second bottle. The pounding on the door resumed and renewed the aching dumb beats against Mayor Mare’s head. Rubbing her eyes, she glanced out the window towards the sky – still dark and full of stars. The soft ticking of an ornate, owl-themed wall clock grabbed her attention. A quarter past five in the morning, according to the clock. She grumbled several unmentionable curses under her breath as she stumbled toward the door. She didn't get very far. Mayor Mare managed two steps before she nearly toppled over. She gripped the arm of the couch to retain her balance. Mayor Mare groaned, the after-effects of that Nightmare-cursed bottle of sweet nectar still taking its toll on her. Tick. Tick. She wished she hadn’t taken notice of the clock. Its repetitive clicking was enough to send her head spinning. She cursed the Apple family and their divine cider for doing this to her. Tick. Tick. And also Time Turner for selling such an obnoxious device. The assailant assaulting her front door returned with two slow, house-quaking strikes on the wooden slab. An umbrella stand beside the door rocked on its three legs before tumbling to the ground and letting its contents spill out across the floor. Tick. Tick. Mayor Mare scowled. This was getting ridiculous. “I’m coming!” Irritation and exhaustion combined to form a tsunami of rising anger in Mayor Mare. She wasn’t sure who would come by in the middle of the night, and she didn't care. Whoever they were deserved every word of her on-coming tirade. Throwing the door open, she glared at the pony on the other side. “Now listen here! Whatever is so important can wait until Celestia raises the – Oh!” Mayor Mare’s sleep-deprived brain caught up with her and came to a halt as she took in who was assaulting her door moments ago. A stoic stallion, clad in armor made of a deep purple metal, towered over the confused mare. His cat-like eyes bore through Ponyville’s mayor as the moonlight highlighted two leathery appendages on his back; wings. A royal guard. A night guard, to be exact. A night guard from Canterlot, to be even more distressingly exact. Ponyville didn’t have a regiment of royal guards in town. Tick. Tick. The soft, rhythmic beat of her clock made the unexpected stare-down feel as if it lasted far longer than it did. “Mayor Mare?” the thestral guard asked with a commanding tone seeking confirmation, rather than idle curiosity. Mayor Mare blinked, her mind still racing to catch up. It ended up stalling even further behind. Illuminated by the moon, a badge on the thestral's chest glinted and caught Mayor Mare’s eye. The patch was a solid black circle, a silver crescent moon in the center. This wasn’t just a guard, this was a member of Princess Luna’s personal detachment banging down her door. This situation Mayor Mare found herself in could not get any worse. Tick. Tick. Another pair of beats passed, and Mayor Mare realized she was still staring. She sucked down a breath full of air and reached up to tug on her collar – only to awkwardly paw at her neck. Her collar and tie were missing, probably lying on the floor somewhere. Tick. Time passed in achingly slow and uncomfortable moments. In an attempt to save face, she smoothed her mane and cleared her throat. She needed to get herself together. Tick. And hold herself together. “I am. Is something the matter, sir?” she finally answered the question he asked. If the stallion cared about her display, he didn’t show it. “Missive from Canterlot – by way of Princess Luna.” The guard explained, mostly out of necessity and protocol, and craned his neck around to dig through the saddlebag on his left flank. One of Mayor Mare’s eyebrows raised up – Tick – while the other violently twitched. A letter? From Princess Luna? The mayor was in constant correspondence with Princess Celestia, but she struggled to remember the last time the other diarch ever spoke to her. Well, other than on Nightmare Nig– Tick. Tick. Mayor Mare silently whipped her head around to glare at the clock – daring it to make another sound. Her previous rage, once directed at the guard, now resided in her hatred of that clock. Tick. Tick. Her left eye twitched, the boldness of her clock was equally impressive and infuriating. "Ma'am," the guard’s said with a muffled voice, the thinly-veiled exasperation lacing his tongue demanded Mayor Mare’s attention. A twinge of embarrassment warmed her cheeks. Mayor Mare turned away from her wall clock, finding the guard carrying a rolled-up scroll limply in his mouth. The dark blue band binding it together signified that it was, indeed, from Princess Luna. One of the stallion’s bat-like wings came around to take the scroll from his mouth and hold it out in front of him. Mayor Mare took the scroll with her teeth, and the guard saluted her with one of his wings. He took a few paces back before pouncing into the air and beginning his flight back to Canterlot. Mayor Mare followed the guard out of her home to watch the guard leave. The falling moon glinted off the guard’s armor as he vanished into the star-filled sky. Mayor Mare turned around and trotted back inside. What could be so important that it needed to be hoof-delivered in the middle of the night? Thoughts of what the letter entailed intrigued, so much so her senses dulled and the pain in her head subsided. Tick. Tick. For a time, at least. She dropped the letter onto a nearby end table – so she didn’t accidentally grind her teeth and damage the letter. Thankfully, the moon gave enough light for Mayor Mare to read with. Tick. Tick. The mayor repressed the rage pooling in the back of her mind as she opened and scanned the sealed missive. Cold fatigue flooded over the still waking mare as she read. Her eyes unfocused on the page when she reached the end, a personal signature from Princess Luna. Her jaw fell slightly ajar as she processed the letter.  Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Click. Mayor Mare snapped her jaw shut, audibly clicking her teeth in the process. Now she remembered yesterday. Tick. Tick. Her neck cracked as she whipped around to stare at the doorway to her kitchen. She remembered what brought her to drinking that cider. Tick. Tick. Moments later, her eyes fell to the discarded bottle of cider she entertained last night, now laying at her hooves. If the princess's letter was anything to go by, she wanted to make sure she couldn't remember today. Tick. Tick. Now the clock had her full attention, and this time Mayor Mare had no intention of letting off the hook. Twilight can handle Ponyville’s problems for one day. Mayor Mare had her own plans. Tick. Tick. She stomped up to the clock and stood on her hind legs, supporting herself against the wall with her forelegs. Tick. Tick. She bit into the thin string above the clock that secured it around a nail in the wall. Tick. Tick. Ti – Mayor Mare dropped the clock from her wall, eternally ceasing the cursed ticking noise. Splintering wood smothered the clock’s final heartbeat as it crashed on the ground. Dropping to the ground herself, she released a deep sigh of relief. Silence prevailed, and Mayor Mare relished in it. No ticks. No tocks. Just silence. With a new skip in her step, Mayor Mare trotted into her kitchen. It was a good thing she had a second bottle. The comforting scent of cinnamon-infused candles wafted through the air, the wisps of smoke swirling and flowing around as Starlight paced circles through her bedroom. Her eyes carved an invisible path into the floor that she rounded over and over again. She’d been at this for hours, her mind clouded with questions and frustrations. Thoughts of Trixie and the fight they had clawed at her like a wild animal, its teeth made up of memories of the day prior. Trixie’s casually insulting Sugarcube Corner, the fight in the market, Fluttershy’s squirrels tearing a hole in Trixie’s cape; each one nibbled at her. Starlight stopped and shook her head. It didn’t make sense. This fight between them cut much deeper than any other before, and Starlight couldn’t figure out why. Starlight and Trixie had arguments and disagreements before. They both were at fault at times, but they always got through it together. But this time, the fight seemed out of nowhere. What even set Trixie off in the first place? Was it her? All Starlight wanted was for Trixie and her friends to get along. The unicorn turned around and resumed her pace, now going counter-clockwise. She wasn’t blind to the fact Trixie and the girls had issues in the past. It was something Starlight and Trixie bonded over in the first place. But, what made those issues a problem today? As far as Starlight knew, everypony was able to get along. Pinkie Pie and Rarity didn’t react poorly to seeing Trixie – or at least not until Trixie did something to upset them – and Fluttershy could be skittish at the best of times. Applejack… well, Applejack could have just been having a bad day. She’d been having a lot of those lately; maybe the heat? Straight bit the inside of her cheek, a stray thought coming to the forefront of her mind. Mid-stride, she peeled off from her pace towards her nightstand. With her magic, she lifted a photo of her friends – a memento that Twilight gave her. It was an old picture from when Twilight first moved to Ponyville well before she ascended to alicornhood. It was such an odd sight – Twilight without her wings – but it was probably weirder for the rest of her friends to get used to the idea of her with them. Twilight sat in the very center of the image, all five of her friends crowding around her, posing for the shot in their own unique ways. How Rarity managed to stay still like that with Pinkie’s hoof through her mane, Starlight could only guess. She flipped the photograph over, a small note written on the back. Never forget what’s important. The same message Twilight told her when she received the photo. She said it with a weight and seriousness that was uncharacteristically deep, purpose laced into each word. Starlight sighed. She hoped the advice would spark something in her – understanding, anything – and help her figure this out. But it just wasn’t. She hadn’t forgotten what was important; friendship and her friends. She hadn’t forgotten the lessons she’d learned since coming to Ponyville. She returned the photograph to its rightful place beside her bed, gazing at the picture a moment longer. It looked empty. Ponies and creatures who belonged – deserved – to be in that picture were not there. She’d need to fix that one day; getting a picture with all of her friends, smiling and happy to be there with each other. Starlight’s eyebrows fell as her face tightened into a frown. There it was again. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t figure out what. The more she thought about her friends, the more she realized something was amiss. Whatever it was, was right there. Like it was just on the tip of her tongue but refused to come out. She focused her eyes on the faces of her friends. Smiles. She hadn’t seen them smiling as much recently – in fact, she hadn’t seen any of them at all recently. Everypony was so busy; Rarity was nose deep into taking care of her various businesses, and Fluttershy was the only pony maintaining her sanctuary. Applejack had a lot of work on the farm to take care of, ensuring the crops would be fine during the heatwave. Each of them had an important business to run and, sometimes, needed to take some time to maintain them. That all made sense and Starlight understood why none of them had much time to spare. But, even Rainbow Dash and Twilight were constantly occupied now. Rainbow, normally slacking or napping during her off days (and sometimes on), was almost always in the air flying. Just flying. Not training or practicing for anything related to the Wonderbolts. Just aimlessly flying, usually so high in the sky that nopony could call out to her. If she wasn’t doing that, she was staying on top of the weather. If there was a stray cloud from the Everfree, it’d be blown away by Rainbow. Dry grass? Isolated raincloud to rehydrate the land. Starlight had never seen Rainbow so dedicated to the weather team. It wasn’t a problem, just unusual. But that didn’t hold a candle compared to Twilight. After everypony returned home from the Storm King’s invasion, Twilight secluded herself away from her friends. Not entirely, of course, but Starlight found it noticeable. On the increasingly rare occasion where she did break out of her newly formed shell, Twilight would hold herself to a strict schedule. Leaving on time the moment she penned in, oftentimes mentioning she had “princess duties” to attend to or that she needed to work on the curriculum for her school. It was almost as if she wanted to be anywhere else but with her friends. Twilight wasn’t acting like the pony that Starlight had come to know. But, she could tell that the Storm King and the adventure her friends endured against him had put a heavy strain on her mentor. If Twilight wanted space after that, she could have it. Starlight had no intention of pressing the issue.  Pinkie Pie was… well, as normal as Pinkie Pie ever could be. She was just as bubbly and excitable as always and constantly had some fun scheme hidden in her mane. Both she and Spike were the only ones acting semi-normal these days. Again, Starlight diverted her circular course, walking to her bed. Part of her body flopped onto the mattress, her face in the fresh, lavender-scented sheets while her hind legs dangled over the edge. Closing her eyes, Starlight sighed and rubbed her face deeper into the bedding. Where did this train of thought even lead her? Everypony was having a bad day, and that's what set Trixie off? That didn’t feel right. Trixie’s complaints were not some spontaneous surface-level thoughts, they arose from deep in her heart. Feelings that she was clinging to for a long time before now. She wouldn't have had those opinions about Rarity otherwise. The questions still remained; what agitated Trixie so much, and who was she upset with? She was getting nowhere like this. Starlight was chasing her thoughts in endless loops. At this rate, the unicorn would drive herself mad with worry if she didn’t try something different. But what? She had no intention of giving up and letting Trixie stew in misery alone. Starlight wished she could just go and ask for a straight answer, but she didn’t expect Trixie to be in much of a talkative mood. Not that she could blame her, that’s the same reason she came straight to bed when she got home. She didn’t want to burden Spike or Twilight with her emotion-fueled ranting. Starlight raised her head, twisting her neck around to peer at the picture once again resting on her nightstand. There’s an idea. She wasn’t the distraught bull stampeding around she was a few hours ago. If there was anypony she could talk this friendship problem out with, it would be Twilight Sparkle. The unicorn squirmed and shuffled her way out of bed, no time like the present, after all. It was already very late and if she wanted to try and catch Twilight before she fell asleep, now was the time. She extinguished the candle with her magic as she trotted out the door. Her pace was quick, purpose driving her. The cold and empty hallways of the castle carried the sound of her half-gallop half-trot from top to bottom and back again. She was antsy, and the noise only accentuated how alone she was with her thoughts. At least in her room, the familiar decore and ambiance could accompany her. Not even the rug running along the floor could provide any comfort. These halls were barren and lifeless, letting the clicks of her hooves reverberate endlessly. She walked these floors hundreds of times by now, and never had they felt so maddeningly long. Over the sounds of her hooves, Starlight heard a door swing open elsewhere in the castle. The tell-tale sound of a door clicking shut came moments later, accompanied by a sigh of relief. Even with such a small snippet, Starlight knew who the voice belonged to. Starlight heard the crisp sound of claws and scales dragging along stone, a small purple and green body emerging from around the corner ahead of her. “Spike!” Starlight greeted the dragon with a bright smile, happy to see anything other than the same dull shades of blue and purple. Any friendly face was able to brighten her spirits right about now. Spike glanced around, surprised by the pony calling his name. When his gaze finally came upon Starlight, he lazily waved. “Hey, Starlight.” Spike’s greeting was noticeably less enthusiastic. His shoulders sagged, and he continued to slink away. Starlight paused mid-step. Whatever was going on with Spike was a bad sign. “Everything alright?” she voiced, catching up and following a step behind the dragon. “Just Twilight being Twilight,” Spike groaned, pulling at his face, “you know how it is.” He stopped and grabbed the handle to his bedroom door, turning to face Starlight properly. “She hasn’t freaked out about Pinkie Pie in a long time, or at least not this bad. I’m giving up. If she wants to stay up all night worrying her tail off about why Pinkie Pie is doing something, she can go ahead.” Spike pulled open the door, adding; “Sorry, I’m just exhausted. Goodnight, Starlight.” And with that, he stepped inside his bedroom and shut the door. Well, that doesn’t bode well, Starlight thought to herself. Twilight throwing herself into a problem was nothing new. For being such a cautious and forward-thinking pony, she had a habit of grossly overthinking solutions. The kind of pony who’d either try to cross a river by building a makeshift bridge or by jumping in headfirst – only to find a shallow crossing point a few steps away. Usually, Spike would be the one pointing her in the right direction. If he’s fed up with helping Twilight, then what could Starlight do to help? And why was Pinkie Pie involved? Again. Starlight sighed and took a deep breath, slowly letting it go. Between her own problems, Trixie’s everything, and now Twilight’s something, there just wasn’t enough time in the day to sort it all out. Dealing with everything at once was out of the question. Even if it was, Starlight was already far too stressed out figuring out her own problems to worry about solving anypony else’s. She needed help, and there was only one pony who could right now. And that pony was Twilight Sparkle. Twilight Sparkle. A pony that was also stressed, overwhelmed, and struggling to solve her own problems. Just like Starlight was. All the air escaped Starlight’s lungs, the weight of the day leaping onto her back. Breathlessly, Starlight bemoaned her luck. Of all the days she needed Twilight’s advice… At least for tonight, Starlight was on her own. Sluggishly, she walked back to her own room. As endless the walk to Twilight’s room was the first time, the defeated walk back to her own felt even longer. Had Starlight’s head been less clouded, she may have heard the faint clattering of somepony creeping around downstairs. Trixie laid in the grass beside her wagon, watching the smoke from her campfire drift and dissipate into the night sky. She sniffled. It’d been hours since she left Rarity’s shop, hours since she was reminded how terrible a pony she was – is. As much as she wished for it, sleep would not be her savior on this night. From her hammock, minutes turned to hours as she tossed and turned, unable to get a moment’s peace. There was just too much on her mind. Eventually, she gave up on sleep and lit a small campfire outside her wagon. She found little comfort in watching the embers cinder and burn the sticks until nothing remained but ashes and rising smoke. Her cape, which she would normally wrap herself in to stay warm on a cold night, was lying on the floor of her wagon. She couldn’t bring herself to wear the cloak, perhaps for the best. The night air wasn't that cold. But Trixie felt cold. The showmare thought of her actions earlier in the day (or was it the day prior now?) and sulked into the grass. Was she wrong about those ponies? It didn’t feel like she was, but there was an ache in her chest just thinking about it all. They did hate her, right? Trixie rubbed at the dry and crusty stains on her cheeks. Stupid Starlight and her stupider friends. Everything Rarity said the night prior came flooding back, the tidal wave of emotions causing Trixie to plop her head into the grass, face first. Sacrifices. Friendship. It’s supposed to be easy, so why isn’t it? Rarity was one of those Elements of Harmony, right? As far as Equestria was concerned, Rarity was a shining beacon of morality to keep us all on track. So why did she need to treat friendship like it was life and death? So right or wrong? Trixie slammed a hoof into the dirt; it didn’t need to be this difficult. Rarity – all of them – all they did was preach about friendship and forgiveness. Discord’s antics were overlooked. Starlight was redeemed. Why couldn’t she? Trixie made her mistakes; she wronged them in the past. Could they really still hold a grudge just because she humiliated them during her show? It's her job to be mesmerizing – to be great. It wasn’t her fault that ponies wanted to believe her claims and see them first-hoof. Trixie’s cheek twitched at the memory. She paid her price for that already. Trying to show the ponies of this town how great she is, how powerful she is – was. That led her to her greatest mistake. Just thinking about that purchase made her fur stand on end. That… thing, still occasionally whispered in the back of her mind, Trixie was sure of it. The sounds of suddenly nearby hoof-falls altered Trixie that somepony else was awake and very close by. At this hour, she had no idea who it could be. Her ears twitched towards the noises. Whoever they were, they were on the dirt path just in front of Twilight’s castle. But, where did they come from? She hadn’t heard them approach, and Trixie was certainly not that deaf. Hooves never were the stealthiest appendages around, so how did they get so close without her noticing? The sounds of steps changed, a noticeably higher-pitched click compared to the deeper one a moment prior. Hooves on stone? Must be the castle steps, Trixie surmised. A light tapping noise echoed into the night air. Knocking on the door at this hour? No, that wasn't it. The beat wasn’t deep enough nor did it sound hard enough if the point was to wake anypony up. So, what was it? The mystery pony took a few steps away, the bassier sound of hooves on dirt returning. Then, they were gone. They didn’t fade away, like a pony walking away would sound. The noise was just gone. Now Trixie was really curious. Who, or what, was making that noise, and where did they go? Trixie stood up, breaking into a quick trot around the corner of the castle. The glint of something vanishing into the night sky as she rounded to the front steps. A pegasus? That didn’t add up; she never heard any wing flaps. Whatever was at the steps was now long gone, and with it, Trixie's concerns vanished too. What a waste of her time. Trixie scowled and side-eyed the front door to the castle; Twilight Sparkle’s castle. She blew a lock of hair out of her face at the thought. Even after all this time, Trixie still camped out in the shadow of Twilight Sparkle. At one point, Trixie hated that mare. She was jealous of her and sought revenge for her own shortcomings. Had they made up? Sure, sort of. Twilight had a difficult time accepting it, but she did. Or, at least, said she did. These days, the two of them never said much to each other beyond idle pleasantries. But, Twilight often complimented Trixie on her shows when she managed to catch them. That was more than any of the others in that friend group gave Trixie, but…  No, they weren’t friends. They never would be friends. How much of Twilight's hospitality was because of Starlight and the friendship she and Trixie had? It all became clear to Trixie. Twilight was just like those so-called beacons of morality. In fact, she was the worst offender of them all. Princess of Friendship. A lofty title built on pretentious self-righteousness. When Trixie and Starlight first met, Twilight – Princess of Friendship – refused to accept that the two of them were friends. Who was she to determine the merits and requirements of true friendship? Because she saved Equestria? Trixie saved Equestria and the Changelings, and that still wasn’t enough for them. They all still see Trixie as a monster to despise? A pony whose past transgressions will forever drag her, and those around her, down to the depths of Tartarus? Fine. She’ll play her part. Trixie stomped up the door, ripping the note from the nail. She unlodged the metal spike with her magic, flinging it into a nearby bush. Her brow furrowed and her nose scrunched up, her scowl even uglier than before as she stared at the letter. Rarity wants to see Trixie make sacrifices? She’ll show her. Trixie will make her sacrifice, and it’ll be bigger and greater than any other. As only the Great and Powerful Trixie ever could.