Twilight’s Laboratory, Golden Oaks Library, Ponyville
“Okay, let’s review the spell theory once more,” growled Twilight, brushing back a few strands of frazzled hair as she read back through the section on the shadowmancy technique she’d been struggling with for the past several hours.
“‘The Shadowstep differs substantially from a conventional Teleport in that it is at once far more limited and far more versatile,’” stated the text Princess Luna had given her. “‘On one hoof, the Shadowstep has a limited maximum range. Whereas a sufficiently powerful mage can – theoretically – Teleport across a continent or more, a Shadowstep can only transport a mage within the range of what could theoretically be seen, assuming healthy eyesight and the lack of obstacles to one’s line-of-sight. Further, a Teleport can transport the caster to any unoccupied space, while a Shadowstep can only transport the caster from one shadow to another. Further yet, a caster can be forced out of a Shadowstep – possibly with injury – if the shadows to which they are traveling are dispelled.’”
Twilight snorted to herself and muttered, “I love how it says ‘possibly with injury,’ as though being forcefully ejected from a semi-incorporeal state wouldn’t hurt.”
She continued to read, “‘For all its drawbacks, however, the Shadowstep is unquestionably superior to the Teleport in terms of efficiency of energy. A properly-executed Shadowstep requires substantially less magic than even a short-range Teleport. Further, it tends to be far subtler, as a Teleport is commonly accompanied by a flash of light and a loud burst as the air occupying the space to which the object or creature is teleporting is forcefully expelled to create room for the matter now occupying the space. Since a Shadowstep merely renders the subject incorporeal, however, the transport of matter is smoother and less abrupt, resulting in quieter and less obvious movement, though at the cost of being less-than-instantaneous and leaving the subject more vulnerable to interference.’”
“‘Unlike a Teleport, which is principally Spacial Magic requiring the folding of space around the subject to ‘warp’ the subject from one point to another, the Shadowstep incorporates both Shadow and Trasmogrification Magic to both temporarily alter the subject and transfer the subject to the destination.’”
“‘Novice Shadowmancers may prefer to consider the Shadowstep in stages – enter the state of incorporeality, ‘warp’ from one shadow to another, reconstitute self at destination. It is important not to think of it like a Teleport, which is, fundamentally, a single action, albeit an immensely complex and multifaceted one requiring both a firm understanding of the theory and the raw power to effect its function.’”
The explanation of the spell theory continued on for several pages, followed by formulas and permutations – along with numerous safety warnings. Twilight read back through it all. Not because she’d forgotten the words, of course; Twilight’s memory was exceptional, particularly with regards to magic and the written word.
No, she read back through the entire section for a twelfth time because she couldn’t seem to make it work. Her hope was that perhaps she’d missed some critical component, or else failed to grasp some element of the spell theory properly and as such failed to effectuate the shadowstep.
Maybe this time will be different, she thought, trying – with only marginal success – to reassure herself. Twilight turned her attention to a patch of shadow in the far corner of her laboratory. She was, currently, standing in a partially shadowed part of the lab. It didn’t take much shadow to be able to shadowstep, at least in theory, but she’d left herself plenty of large shadows in the lab just to make it easier.
The unicorn mage focused on her magic, visualized what she intended to do, charged the spell, and cast…
… and cast…
… and cast…
… and stayed exactly where she was.
“GRAHH!” she snarled, striking the ground with her hoof in frustration. “Why won’t this work?!”
“Why won’t what work?” asked a voice behind her.
Yelping, Twilight jumped, spun in midair, and charged her horn for an instinctive shield spell – a spell she dispelled the moment she realized the speaker was a bemused-looking Spike.
“Eesh, Twi, jumpy much?” chuckled the young dragon.
Flushing, Twilight sat down and rubbed a hoof across her brow. “Sorry, Spike. I guess I didn’t hear you come in.” She gestured to the book Luna had given her. “It’s this… this… this shadowmancy! It’s impossible!”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Come on, Twi. You’re the smartest unicorn in all of Equestria. You’ll crack this.” Twilight muttered something unintelligible, earning a raised eyebrow from Spike. “Hey, you’ve already managed to cast some shadowmancy from Luna’s book.”
Twilight snorted, rose to her hooves, and began pacing angrily back and forth. “Yes, throwing my voice and creating a few minor illusions,” she snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure those little party tricks are really impressive! Why, if I start a ventriloquism act, I’ll bet I can trick the Shades into surrendering!”
“Twi—”
“It’s not enough, Spike!” she shouted, rounding on him. “I need to be ready for what’s coming!”
Spike recoiled from her ire. The sight cooled her anger, and she sighed guiltily. “I’m sorry, Spike. I shouldn’t take my frustration out on you.”
The dragon recovered quickly, shrugging and smiling reassuringly. “Hey, water under the bridge, right? Don’t even worry about it.”
“But—”
“Apology accepted, Twilight,” said Spike, his tone making it clear he considered the matter closed. “Let’s focus on getting past this mental block, eh?” He hopped up on a nearby stool and struck a thinking pose. “Do you think you understand the mechanics of it?”
“Well, clearly I don’t, or else I’d be standing over there right now.”
“Or, maybe you do understand, but something else is the problem,” he countered. “Didn’t you tell me Redheart was having trouble learning healing magic because it’s so intuitive? What if book learning isn’t the problem?” Spike smirked. “Let’s be honest, when has book learning ever been your problem?”
Twilight found herself laughing ruefully. “Fair point. And… yeah, I guess Luna’s book does warn that shadowmancy does rely pretty heavily on intuition and instinct.”
“There, see?” said Spike triumphantly. “You just needed the help of your Number One Assistant.”
Twilight giggled. “And I’m very grateful, Number One, but knowing the problem doesn’t necessarily help me solve it.”
“So you just need to act on instinct, right?” he asked. Twilight nodded. “Then here’s what we’ll do.” He hopped down from his stool and pointed a claw at himself. “I am going upstairs. In exactly seven minutes, I am going to eat an entire tub of ice cream. You are not allowed to stop me unless you shadowstep.”
“What?” exclaimed Twilight, aghast. “That’s not what we’re doing! You can’t just decide—”
“Ah, ah!” chided Spike. “I challenge you, as a top-knotch unicorn mage, to use shadowstep and only shadowstep to stop me, on your honor as a mage. Between the challenge to your professional prowess and your strong maternal streak, your instincts should kick in and let you shadowstep.”
“That’s not how this works!”
“Clock is ticking, Twilight,” called Spike as he turned and walked upstairs.
“Oh, what, so you think challenging my pride as a mage is gong to get to me, huh? Is that what you think?” she called after him as he reached the top of the stairs. “You think my compulsive need to prove my capabilities as a magic-user is going to subconsciously compel me to abide by the rules of your challenge?” Spike didn’t look back once as he shut the door behind himself. “Well it’s not!” shouted Twilight after him. “It’s no going to work!” she insisted as she stayed put in the basement. “I can just come up there and stop you! Nothing’s holding me back!”
Silence answered her.
“This is ridiculous,” the unicorn muttered to herself. “I’m just going to go up there and make him not eat the ice cream. I’ll just march right up those stairs and do it!”
Twilight nodded, satisfied with her decision.
At least until she realized she wasn’t moving.
“In fact, I don’t even need to go upstairs. I can just teleport the ice cream out of the icebox so there’ll be nothing for him to eat.”
She prepared her magic to do just that. Strangely, after preparing herself, nothing happened.
“It wouldn’t be cheating,” she reminded herself. “I never agreed to the contest. It wouldn’t be cheating. It wouldn’t.”
“But... since I’m down here anyway... I might as well try to do it by shadowstepping. Since I’m down here.” Shouting up the stairwell, she declared, “You hear that, Spike? I’m not doing this because I have to! I’m doing this because I want to!”
Spike sat by the icebox reading a comic book, listening to the clock count down. “You keep telling yourself that, Twilight,” he said with a smirk.
His smile broadened as the minutes slipped away, and he knew that, no matter the outcome, he won.
Meanwhile, Fluttershy’s day was not going much better than Twilight’s. It wasn’t that anything in particular had gone wrong – market prices had been good, ponies had been friendly, and she’d gotten most of her errands done in short order.
No, the reason Fluttershy’s day had been less-than-pleasant was that she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.
Fluttershy didn’t get senses like Pinkie did (for that matter, she didn’t know anypony who had senses like Pinkie, but that was neither here nor there). In fact, Fluttershy seldom had ‘gut feelings’ that moved her one way or another. She had her fears and anxieties, to be sure, but for the most part these could be put down to a general nervousness and timidity.
With that said, on the occasions when her gut feelings did choose to make themselves known, it was typically for good reason. She was adept at reading the signals nature gave her in the behavior of the animals, the currents of the air, and – albeit with less reliability – the subtle tells of ponies.
Fluttershy had also come to suspect – perhaps through Friar Jacques’ influence – that perhaps the Source had seen fit to give her certain insights into the world around her, the better to read the terrain and be prepared for crises when they arose. Real crises, that is, she thought. Not simply my own overdeveloped anxieties.
Today, as it happened, there was something in the wind. Today, Fluttershy’s instincts told her that trouble loomed like a distant storm cloud. Today, Fluttershy had the profound sense that something was going to go wrong, and it wasn’t just Pinkie’s ominous prediction at the train station that had led to this conclusion. No, Fluttershy was listening to her instincts, and her instincts issued a stern warning to watch her back.
So, even when Fluttershy completed her errands, she lingered in town, feeling that was where she needed to be. If asked, she could not have explained why, but she remained all the same.
Still, it felt awkward to loiter, and even the thought of other ponies staring at her wondering why she was lingering was enough to send a chill down her spine. Rather than endure their gaze, she opted to make her way to Sugar Cube Corner instead.
“Hiya, Fluttershy!” Pinkie greeted her with typical ebullience.
“Hello, Pinkie Pie,” replied the pegasus in a much more muted tone. “I hope I’m not interrupting, I just stopped by to—”
“Whoop! Gang way!” cried a filly’s voice. Fluttershy eeped in surprise as Scootaloo ducked around her, a tray of muffins balanced – after a fashion – on her head. As the filly scurried along, the tray tipped alarmingly, nearly spilling the golden-brown confections. Scootaloo compensated by overcorrecting, almost launching the muffins off the other side, which led to her reverse-overcorrecting, beginning – or perhaps continuing – a precarious path across the room to deliver muffins to a cross-eyed mailmare known, affectionately, as Ditzy Doo.
Fluttershy didn’t have time to ponder why Scootaloo might be serving muffins to grey mare, because at that moment she had to avoid another collision, this time from Sweetie Belle, who managed an, “Excuse me, Fluttershy!” as she scurried by in the other direction with a plate of apple fritters for the display window.
Clattering up to intercept Sweetie Belle came Applebloom, who was desperately (and futilely) attempting to explain to Sweetie Belle that the apple fritters weren’t quite ready yet and that they needed a little more time. Applebloom actually managed to avoid Fluttershy more or less without issue, even saying “Pardon me, Miss Fluttershy,” though the fact that she passed the pegasus mare without near collision was perhaps more due to the wide intercept-course she’d charted to catch Sweetie Belle than it was due to any attempt to avoid running into the yellow mare.
Intent on extricating herself from the helter-skelter movements of the fillies, Fluttershy took to the air and flapped over to Pinkie Pie. “Things seem, um, quite… lively in here,” she observed, making sure to not phrase it in a way that might be interpreted as critical.
“Yupperooni!” agreed Pinkie as she frosted a stack of cupcakes with her tail while simultaneously applying sprinkles to a cake with her forehooves. “The CMCs have been helping out around the shop today!”
There was a clatter and a crash from Ditzy’s table, though the simultaneous “Oops! My bad” from the grey mare and “Oh gosh, Ditzy, I’m so sorry!” from Scootaloo made it difficult to tell who was at fault.
Pinkie Pie didn’t bat an eye, but only glanced over with her ‘As-Long-As-The-Baked-Goods-Survived-It’s-Okay’ look. Seeming satisfied that the muffins had escaped destruction, she carried on with her multitasking without interruption. “It’s been nice to have some extra hooves helping out,” she remarked, seeming unfazed by the argument between Applebloom and Sweetie Belle over the contents of the display window.
Fluttershy tilted her head in confusion. “Really? I thought… I mean… it might not be any of my business, but I thought they were grounded from crusading.”
“We are!” chorused the three fillies, who’d broken from their tasks long enough to make the declaration before resuming their frantic activity.
“Oh, so… this isn’t crusading?” asked Fluttershy.
“Nopers!” replied Pinkie, who had moved from working on cakes and cupcakes to putting the finishing touches on cookies and strudels. “They already found out they’re not going to get their marks in baking or waitressing, or busing tables, or washing dishes, or making candy, or eating candy, or getting sick from eating too much candy…” the pink mare proceeded to rattle off a list of (failed) cutie mark quests to have taken place, some of which implied such significant levels of disaster that Fluttershy wondered why the trio were even allowed in the shop.
“I guess that makes sense,” said Fluttershy, “but, if you don’t mind my asking, if they aren’t crusading, why are they here?”
“To keep us outta trouble,” groused Scootaloo as she past them into the kitchen with the pitiful remains of a table setting.
“And ta work off our sentences,” added Applebloom as she likewise hastened into the kitchen with the apple fritters, with Sweetie Belle running after her, still arguing that they were plenty ready to show off.
Pinkie clarified, “It was my idea! I saw the CMCs had big frowny faces from being grounded so long, and I thought to myself, ‘Hey! Why don’t we let them do a work release program? Like when ponies who did bad things and got caught and got sent up the river and locked in the pokey,” she mimed being locked in a jail cell, “but then they want to get back into the community, so they prove they can be trusted to work outside the penitentiaries and so they get jobs to help reacclimate to community and gain a better sense of respect for themselves by proving – to themselves and the to other ponies – that they can be reliable! That way they can work off their prison sentences and be productive and have something to keep them out of trouble in the meantime and it helps lower the rate of repeat incarceration!’ Great plan, right?”
Fluttershy stared at the pink mare, blinking repeatedly in incomprehension.
“What?” asked Pinkie Pie. “I do standup comedy on the penitentiary circuit.” She smirked triumphantly and polished one hoof against her chest. “So far, every warden on the circuit says I help lower the rate of repeat incarceration.”
“Mm,” said Fluttershy noncommittally, courteously opting not to ask why Pinkie’s comedy was successful in lowering the rate of repeat incarceration. The charitable explanation – which Fluttershy thought was probably the correct one – was that Pinkie mixed comedy with uplifting speeches to help ponies resolve to make better decisions with their lives.
On the other hoof, Fluttershy distinctly remembered when Pinkie sang for the buffalo and frontiersponies in Appaloosa in an attempt to unite them… and had only succeeded in uniting them against her song. Either way, she helps ponies make better life choices, and I guess that’s what really matters. “That’s very impressive, Pinkie Pie.”
“Thanks!” beamed Pinkie with a smile that lit up the room. “I’m confident it’ll work here too!” Even the sound of heated argument and another crash in the kitchen didn’t dampen her smile.
Okay, probably Pinkie uplifts ponies and that’s why they stay clean after discharge. Appaloosa was an anomaly.
“So,” said Pinkie, changing subjects, “what brings you to Sugar Cube Corner today? Cupcakes? Cookies? Apple-Fritters?” She glanced around furtively, then whispered, “They’re not ready yet!”
“Told ya!” crowed Applebloom in the kitchen.
“Um, no, Pinkie, thank you,” replied Fluttershy. “I came by because… well… maybe I’m just being silly but… do you feel like there’s something… off today?”
Pinkie sat back and tapped her chin thoughtfully, her face scrunched up as though to help her better ponder the question. “Now that you mention it,” said the pink ponie, “my ears flapped up and down earlier, which means a bird is going to fly in here today.” As if on cue, her ears flapped like the wings of a robin flying full tilt. “Correction, one bird followed by a flock of birds.”
“A flock?”
“Or, maybe just a flight of birds. It wasn’t that heavy an ear flap.”
“Um… okay. If you say so,” said Fluttershy. “Do you… I mean… I know your Pinkie Sense isn’t always specific – not that I’m criticizing, I’m not, it’s just how it works – but do you know when this, um, bird or flight of birds will show up?”
“Hmm,” mused Pinkie. “I think right about… ten seconds from now.”
“Oh? Did you Pinkie Sense tell you that?”
Pinkie pointed out the door. “No, I can just see him flying like he’s imitating Rainbow Dash on opening day of Cider Season.”
Sure enough, a thrush zipped through the open door, flying so hard that he practically ran into Fluttershy. The mare had just enough time to turn, generate a cushion of air with her wings, and catch the bird before he impacted her head like an errant golf ball. “My goodness!” she exclaimed as she caught the thrush. “Thorvaldus, what on earth are you doing flying so fast! You could be hurt!”
The thrush, unmoved by his near-collision, tweeted out a rapid flurry of information, much too fast for even Fluttershy to track. “My goodness! Slow down, Thorvaldus, I know you’re feeling tense, but I can’t understand a chirp you’re tweeting.”
Thorvaldus slowed down and enunciated his tweets. What he said made Fluttershy’s blood run cold. He spoke of a Bad Blue Mare who had turned Ironhide and Morning Song into a living statue and a bird – respectively – before vanishing in a puff of smoke. “Are… are you certain?” she asked tremulously. The thrush chirped in the affirmative.
Fluttershy said heavily on her haunches, letting go of the thrush in her shock. Thorvaldus flapped awkwardly to the floor and rested there in front of her, worn out from the exertion.
“What’d he say?” asked Pinkie Pie. “Did we forget Celestia’s birthday? Did we forget Luna’s birthday?” She gasped in horror. “DID WE FORGET FRIAR JACQUES’ BIRTHDAY?! OH MY GOODNESS WE NEED TO— oh, hey, the flight of birds.”
Sure enough, a small flight of birds poured through the open doorway tweeting madly in a cacophony of warning that more or less equated to ‘Fear! Fire! Foe!’ along with the capture of Rainbow Dash and Marble Slab at her cottage and various iterations of ‘Bad Blue Mare.’
Fluttershy felt a change come over her, though she didn’t recognize it amidst other more pressing considerations. Had she noticed, she would perhaps have recognized it as the narrowing of focus and rapidity of calculation that comes when adrenalin and survival instinct make their presence known. An emotion came over her. It was not quite calmness – for anger and fear were present – but it was rather like calmness in that she felt no franticness or panic, only a clear-minded drive for swift and deliberate action.
Had Fluttershy noticed the change that came over her, she might have found it remarkable, shocking, or even frightening. As it was, she had no time for such niceties.
Such was the magnitude of the difference in her mental processes that, where Thorvaldus alone had tweeted too rapidly for her to follow at first, she was able to process all of the new birds’ warnings in spite of the fact they were chirping over each other.
Likewise, Fluttershy managed to tune out Pinkie’s questions and tangential commentary so as to focus on a plan of action. She’s coming for Twilight, so Twilight’s who I need to warn first. Twilight can teleport to warn Applejack, Big Mac, and Fritters. We also need to get ponies off the streets.
“Pinkie, call the girls in here,” she ordered. Not bothering to wait for an acknowledgment, she turned to the shop’s lone customer: the cross-eyed mailmare. “Ditzy? Would you please find Mr. and Mrs. Cake?” She glanced at Pinkie, saying, “They’re in the back, correct?”
“Yeah, but—” began Pinkie.
Fluttershy didn’t give her time to finish. She turned back to Ditzy and said, “Please tell them to get Pound and Pumpkin and take shelter in the basement. Then, would you please go sound the alarm bell.” Fluttershy reasoning that the basement would be the safest place for the Cakes, as most Ponyville residences had disaster shelters – ‘Tuesday Bunkers’ in parlance – for riding out whatever blew through town. If Ditzy were to then sound what many pithily labeled the ‘Bunker-Down Bell,’ it would warn all ponies to take shelter.
“Okay!” said Ditzy with her typical pleasantness, unfazed by the prospect of a disaster coming to town. She flew into the back, with only the fact that she managed to not run into anything – if only just – giving hint to how seriously she was taking the situation.
“Fluttershy, what’s going on?” demanded Pinkie as she ushered the three fillies into the room. “Why are we sounding the Bunker-Down Bell?”
“Is it pirates?” asked an excited Applebloom.
“Monsters?” queried Sweetie Belle.
“Monster pirates?” proposed Scootaloo.
Fluttershy was in the process of asking the birds to go warn the other animals to keep their heads down, pausing long enough to say, “Just a moment please, girls,” before giving her final instructions. Tired though they were, the loyal birds rose to the occasion and took off to fulfill their tasks.
This done, Fluttershy addressed Pinkie and the fillies. “Girls, I’m afraid Trixie’s back in town.”
Sweetie Bell giggled. “That loudmouth? We don’t need to ring the Bunker-Down Bell for her.”
“Yeah, more like ring the ‘Bunk’ Bell,” chortled Applebloom. The other Crusaders looked perplexed. Awkwardly, Applebloom explained, “You know, ’cos her stories are ‘bunk’?” Silence. “None o’ ya’ll heard that expression before?”
“Girls!” snapped Fluttershy, Stare flashing momentarily. “This is serious!” The fillies – and Pinkie – stood to attention as though she’d ordered it. “Now, Trixie seems to have gotten stronger than when she was last here. Much stronger. And it looks like she’s come here to fight.”
“Pfff!” snorted Scootaloo, shaking off the effects of the brief Stare. “Rainbow Dash will—”
“I’m afraid Rainbow Dash, Morning Song, Ironhide, and Marble Slab have all been captured,” said Fluttershy, her voice barely catching as she said it. Before the others could properly exclaim in horror or start to panic, she clarified, “They’ll be fine, but Trixie managed to catch all of them and… transmogrify them with her magic.”
“Whu- buh- HOW?! WHY?!” exclaimed Scootaloo, wings buzzing her off the ground in her consternation. “Loudmouth Trixie would never get the drop on Rainbow Dash!”
“Why would she even want to?!” demanded Sweetie Belle.
“Because she’s coming for Twilight?” volunteered Pinkie Pie. The others spun to face her in surprise. “What?” said Pinkie. “It’s a classic revenge arc. Petty character feels slighted, petty character gets power, petty character seeks revenge. Not exactly breaking new ground here.”
“That’s… a very probable theory,” admitted Fluttershy, “But right now…” she took a deep breath, “right now there’s something you three can do to help.”
The Crusaders stepped forward bravely.
“Yeah!”
“Let’s do this!”
“We’ll show Trixie who’s boss!”
The trio began throwing mock punches in the air and limbering up as though about to get into a boxing ring. Fluttershy was quick to disabuse any notion that they’d be part of the fighting. “I need you to warn Twilight that Trixie’s in town—”
Scootaloo pouted, “But—"
Fluttershy didn’t need to fully unleash the Stare to silence any protests. A quick burst of her gaze was enough. The three fillies wilted instantly, and even Pinkie Pie staggered back, struck by collateral damage.
Now that she had their attention, Fluttershy continued more evenly, “You will tell Twilight what I just told you, and tell her that Pinkie Pie and I will do what we can to stop Trixie, or at least slow her down. Understood?”
“Yes, Miss Fluttershy,” chorused the fillies obediently.
Fluttershy smiled gently. “Thank you, girls. Off you go now.”
The three fillies ducked out the back door, leaving Fluttershy alone with Pinkie Pie. The party mare was unusually subdued, and there was a narrowness to her eyes. “So…” said Pinkie as she pulled her axe out of her mane, “you think Trixie’s become a Shady character?”
Fluttershy thought about the grim implications of the question for a moment. The idea made her shudder, but she repressed the revulsion and tried to think objectively. After a moment’s pause, she said, “Well… um… I’m not sure, but, even if she did… weapons didn’t seem to do the others much good.” She tried not to think too hard about why. “Maybe we’d have better luck trying a more… peaceful approach?”
Pinkie shrugged and shoved the axe back into her mane. “Works for me. Let’s get our party on.”
At that moment, Ditzy tumbled out of the back room with the Cakes in tow. Ditzy waved farewell to them and exited the building, headed for the Bunker-Down-Bell as she hummed a song to herself.
For their part, Mr. and Mrs. Cake each had a baby, a sack of supplies, and moderately worried expression. “Girls, we’re headed for the Tuesday Bunker,” said Mr. Cake as he opened the trapdoor that led down to the shelter. “Will you be joining us?”
“Nopey lopey,” replied Pinkie Pie cheerily. “There’s a party pooper Fluttershy and I’ve gotta sort out.”
Pinkie had spoken in her customary chipper voice, and only a pony who knew her especially well would have detected the edge in her tone. Fluttershy knew Pinkie Pie well indeed and, judging by the worried look on Mr. and Mrs. Cake’s faces, they did too.
Still, the Cakes knew enough not to press the issue. With plain reluctance, they descended into the bunker without Pinkie Pie or Fluttershy. “You be careful, dearies,” Mrs. Cake chided them, trying not to sound worried.
“Yes, take care of yourselves, girls,” said Mr. Cake.
“Okay!” chirped Pinkie, drowning out Fluttershy’s quiet, “We will.”
Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie set out, following Ditzy’s trail on foot. The Bunker-Down-Bell was in the center of town, and thus seemed a good place to start to search for their foe. After all, no matter where Trixie approached from, if they started in the middle they wouldn’t be too far from trouble. Fluttershy trotted at a steady pace, brow furrowed as she pondered how best to handle the situation. Pinkie Pie forwent her typical springing locomotion and bubbly speech, instead trotting along in matching silence – a clear indication of her sober mood for those who knew her.
“Soooooo…” began Pinkie in a voice that reminded Fluttershy of the pink mare’s interrogation voice from the MMMMystery Incident. “What’s the plan?”
“I… I’m not sure,” replied Fluttershy honestly. “H-how long do you think we have until Trixie comes to town?”
Up ahead, in the town square still hidden from their view, there was a great flash of light, an audible *thunk* followed by a plaintive “ow!” from Ditzy and a maniacal “BWA-HA-HA-HA!” in the familiar voice of a certain blue showmare.
As dark stormclouds gathered overhead, Pinkie answered Fluttershy’s question, “I’d say we have about… zero seconds until Trixie comes to town.”
Pinkie was accustomed to smiling in the face of danger. In part, it was a genuine smile – life was full of hazards, so why not focus on the positive and enjoy the adventure and the challenge. Pinkie’d had lots of fun on their adventures over the years, and saw no reason not to have a good time. One ought to enjoy one’s work, after all.
Besides. Laughter is my schtick. Why break character and ruin the story?
Sometimes, though, the smile was a mask, at least in part. Sometimes, Pinkie didn’t feel much like her usual, cheerful self. No one could – or should – be chipper all the time. But Pinkie often still pretended she was, if for no other reason than it was what ponies expected of her, and she observed it had an odd way of reassuring her friends. Life might be grim, but Pinkie would always be Pinkie.
This was certainly one of those times. Inside, Pinkie felt like she’d just walked into a village of ponies with fake smiles run by a cult leader who thought the solution to the inevitable inequalities of society was to reduce everyone to an equally low level – except the leaders of course, as they were naturally more equal than the rest.
But Pinkie kept a smile on her face, tight-lipped and grimace-y thought it was, because Fluttershy was actually doing really well in the Facing-Danger-With-Courage Department, and Pinkie didn’t want to throw her off by acting like a Debbie Downer, a Scaredy Sally, or an Angry Annabeth.
And I reeeeeeeally want to act like an Angry Annabeth, thought Pinkie.
“Got a plan yet?” she said out loud.
Fluttershy swallowed audibly. “Um… run away and hide in my cottage?” mumbled the pegasus.
Pinkie threw a comforting foreleg over Fluttershy’s withers and pulled her in for a hug. “Good backup plan. What’s Plan A?”
Dimly, they heard the sound of another *thunk* and a louder “Ow!” from Ditzy. Pinkie’s jaw tightened, and her smile took on the feel of bared fangs behind closed lips.
At hearing Ditzy’s dismay, Fluttershy swallowed. “Plan A is… we try to talk Trixie down and buy time for Twilight to show up.”
“Okie-dokie-lokie!” said Pinkie with forced lightness as she choked down anger. “And if that doesn’t work?”
“Then…” Fluttershy took a deep breath, “… we delay her more directly.”
Pinkie patted her on the head. “Good plans. Let’s bounce!” She pranced forward with aggressive vigor, Fluttershy close behind.
As they approached the town square, the commotion up ahead increased. Ponies were retreating from the area rapidly, unsure what was happening but apparently deciding they didn’t want to stick around to find out. They weren’t engaged in the full-bore Ponyville panic – yet – but they were wisely scurrying for cover. Pinkie and Fluttershy didn’t slow their pace, even when passing ponies stopped to tell them about Trixie or ask what was going on. Instead, Pinkie just said, “Bunker-Down Party! Spread the word! Bunker-Down Party! Spread the word!” over and over with as much forced jollity as she could muster. She wasn’t sure why Ditzy hadn’t rung the bell yet – though she felt confident the reason started with a ‘T’ and ended with ‘rixie’ – but at least warning those they met on the way would start the Bunker-Down process.
By the time they reached the town square – creeping along the final stretch under the eaves of the shops and taking cover behind scenery when possible – they found it was empty of all ponies save two: Ditzy Doo, and the Crazed and Maniacal Trixie (as Pinkie was presently inclined to label her). It became readily apparent why Ditzy Doo had not yet rung the bell.
She couldn’t.
Trixie had, it seemed, encased the bell behind brick walls on all sides. Ditzy, in a magnificent display of both tenacity and durability, was attempting to break through the walls from any angle she could. In addition to leaving an impression on the bricks, she also appeared to have left an impression on Trixie, as the showmare had ceased cackling madly and was observing Ditzy with the sort of fascinated intensity that Twilight brought to her own study of the inexplicable and bizarre.
As Pinkie and Fluttershy snuck deeper into the town square – thus far unnoticed – Ditzy took a wide loop upwards, angled over, and plunged for the top of the brick barricade that separated her from the alarm bell.
*WHAM!*
“Oh my,” winced Fluttershy as the grey mare bounced off the bricks like an awkwardly thrown baseball, flipping almost lazily in the air on her rebound and landing in a heap beside the pile.
Undeterred, Ditzy picked herself up, blinked at how proper the alignment of her eyes was, and shook her head until they went back to normal – for Ditzy – before flapping unevenly into the air to try again.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” Trixie asked, her violet eyes narrowed in concentration.
“A little,” responded Ditzy politely. She began an upwards climbing turn to gain enough altitude for another dive. As she arced over for her attack run, she added, “But not too bad.”
*WHAM*
While Trixie was distracted with the impact-resistant properties of the local mailmare – who was gamely staggering to her hooves once more – Pinkie took the opportunity to pull a pair of binoculars out of her mane and observe Trixie more closely. From what Pinkie could tell, Trixie looked the same as she always did. Same hat, same cape, same smug smile, same necklace—
Wait? Necklace? thought Pinkie, focusing on the neck accessory – or ‘neckcessory,’ am I right? – which Trixie had added to her ensemble. Pinkie thought the addition of a neckcessory was a good look for Trixie, but guessed Rarity probably wouldn’t like the color scheme or design, at least not on Trixie. She’d probably find the angles too pointy, the alicorn motif to clash with the stars and moon cape and hat, the red gemstone to be—
—A BLOODRED EYE GLARED BACK AT HER THROUGH THE LENSES OF THE—
Pinkie muffled a scream of terror by dropping the binoculars and shoving her hooves in her mouth. Fortunately, the muted exclamation was drowned out by the sound of Ditzy ramming unsuccessfully into the brick wall once again, and Trixie didn’t notice.
Fluttershy did, however, and was immediately at Pinkie’s side, her voice even quieter than usual. “What did you see?” she whispered in a voice so soft that, if it had been written on paper or displayed on some sort of viewing screen for folks to read, it would have been too small for the readers to make out the words, and they would’ve either needed to infer the meaning from Pinkie’s response or else form an angry mob to punish the writer for his malfeasance.
“Neckcessory bad,” responded Pinkie, matching Fluttershy’s tone. Pinkie reached into her mane and started pulling out her cat burglar suit. Though why would ponies want to burgle cats? That wouldn’t be very nice!
Fluttershy blinked several times before parsing out the likely meaning of ‘neckcessory,’ at which point she asked, “What are we going to do?” in the same small-voiced whisper.
“Well,” replied Pinkie as she slipped into her sneaking suit, pulled out a rope and grappling hook, and started gauging a route across town. “I’m gonna go super-sneaky-spy on her and snatch the super-sinister-neckcessory right from under her nose!”
Fluttershy was aghast. “That’s a terrible plan!” she whispered, slightly louder than before, but still quite sotto voce. “You’ll be caught!”
“No I won’t, silly filly,” Pinkie quietly declared. She gave Fluttershy a reassuring pat on the head. “Because you’re going to distract her for me!”
“Wha—?!”
“Bye!”
With her distraction assured, Pinkie confidently grappled her way into the nearest rooftop, burrowed under the thatching, and started making her way across the rooftops through her erstwhile tunnels. She had complete faith in Fluttershy. So long as she didn’t take a left turn at Albuckerky in the course of her cartoonish tunneling, she’d be just fine.
As Pinkie Pie burrowed through the thatching of the rooftops – Fluttershy tried not to wonder how Pinkie moved from one rooftop to the next – the yellow pegasus considered her options.
She found the list of options to be regrettably short. Go up to Trixie and start a conversation in the hope she doesn’t zap me? Throw a rock and hope the noise distracts her? Sing an aria?
Fluttershy was not enamored of any of those options, and the last – singing in public – terrified her. Think! Think! What would Pinkie do?
In the course of her musings, she noticed that the stall she was taking cover behind sold imported clothing, including some Japonese garb. Her mind was transported back to a foreign exchange she’d undertaken two years ago with the Society for the Preservation of Animals. She’d spent several weeks in Japone, drinking in the culture and absorbing the language. Her guide – Hana – had complimented her on the speed with which she picked up the Japonese language, and the ear she had for the intricacies of the accent.
The memory brought to mind a plan. A bizarre, ridiculous, even absurd plan that bordered on surreal, which no sane mind could have conceived and would have seemed painfully contrived were it to appear in a narrative form.
In other words, just the sort of thing Pinkie might do.
Knowing that if she took the time to consider her plan rationally, she would never do it, Fluttershy snatched up a kimono that looked relatively her size and hastily did her mane up in the manner Hana had taught her. I must be out of my mind, she thought, before assuring herself that this proved she was thinking like Pinkie.
Her hasty disguise donned, she started towards Trixie – who was still watching Ditzy – all the while lamenting that she lacked Rainbow Dash’s uncanny knack for impressions. “‘Just distract her, Fluttershy,’” she muttered to herself under her breath, mimicking Pinkie’s chipper tone. Then she felt bad for being passive aggressive, and resolved to apologize to Pinkie later.
Trixie – perhaps sensing her approach – snapped her head around to glare imperiously at Fluttershy. I will apologize to Pinkie… if I live through this, Fluttershy amended mentally.
“Konnichiwa,” Fluttershy said in her best Japonese accent. “I am new to this town and appear to be lost. I’m looking for—”
Trixie’s eyes flashed red, lightning flickered upon her horn, and storm clouds began to gather overhead. “You dare interrupt the Grrrrreat and Powerful TRIXIE?!” demanded the showmare.
Fluttershy allowed her trembling to bear her groundwards in an instinctive bow. “Gomen'nasai! My humblest apologies, oh Great and Powerful Trixie. We have heard of your greatness and power in Japone, and I trusted that one so magnanimous as your great and powerful self would be able to assist me.”
Trixie raised an eyebrow. The snarl left her face, but her eyes remained red and the clouds continued to gather. “From whom did you hear of Trixie’s Greatness and Powerfulness?”
The pegasus swallowed hard. “I… uh… it was…” Mercifully, Thorvaldus’ description of Morning Song and Ironhide’s fight with Trixie came to mind. “I-It was a member of the B-Black Cav, your Great and Powerfulness,” managed Fluttershy, remembering that Trixie had briefly softened towards Morning Song upon realizing what unit she belonged to. “They were stationed in Japone some years ago. The officer’s name was… A-Argent Sabre.”
Trixie loomed over Fluttershy, and thunder rumbled overhead.
Then Trixie’s gaze softened, and her eyes dimmed to their usual purple. “Ah, yes, the unicorn captain. Trixie recognized she was a mare of culture. And she appears to have served Trixie well by spreading word of her Greatness and Power to the Japonese. Perhaps she may be of further service to the Great and Powerful Princess Trixie…” blue wings unfurled from beneath Trixie’s cloak. “After all, a princess needs her army…”
Fluttershy felt sick at the sight of her friend’s wings attached to the blue showmare. She bowed lower to hide her nausea. “That seems m-most r-reasonable, Your Great and Powerfulness.”
“Of course it does,” snorted Trixie. “The Great and Powerful Princess Trixie is always reasonable. And she demands a retinue who understands her might. Stand up, pegasus.” With trembling legs, Fluttershy stood. Trixie cast a critical – and red-glinted – eye over her, as one might examine a piece of furniture or a decoration. “Trixie rewards those who appreciate her.” Her eyes became purple again for a moment, and Fluttershy felt like Trixie saw her as a pony again. “And a worthy audience is never unappreciated.” Trixie glanced back at Ditzy, who was lining up for another run on the brick wall. “Talent, too, shall never unappreciated in Trixie’s new realm.”
*WHAM*
“Ow,” said Ditzy, having impacted off the brick wall yet again.
The storm clouds grew darker overhead, and lightning rippled through them.
“Yes…” said Trixie slowly, musingly, “The Great and Powerful Trixie is going to make that grey pegasus an assistant in her stage show. What do you think of that?”
“I… I think she would be a popular addition to any show, Your Greatness.” said Fluttershy.
*WHAM*
“Ow.”
“Indeed,” agreed Trixie, gesturing to the brick wall. “That is a magic wall that ten earth ponies would struggle to break, and yet she persists.” Her musing voice returned to its normal, irritable tone for a moment. “I bet she wouldn’t whine about blunt force trauma like Trixie’s last three assistants.”
Oh, this day just keeps getting worse.
“You, though,” said Trixie, returning her attention to Fluttershy. “You might make for a fine majordomo.”
“Arigato, Great and Powerful Princess Trixie,” said Fluttershy with a bow.
“Your first task shall be to—”
“BANZAI!” cried Pinkie Pie as she sprang from beneath the thatching of the nearest roof to dive on Trixie like a bird of prey. The pink mare bore Trixie to the ground in a flying tackle and reached to grasp the amulet around her neck. “I’ll just take this neckcessory off your—”
*KRRACKOW*
Red bolts like lightning rippled out from the amulet with a sound like thunder, snatching Pinkie up in their crackling embrace and firing her into the nearest storefront. The Pink mare punched clean through the wall and landed with a crash amongst the commodities within.
“Pinkie!” shouted Fluttershy in horror. She started to run for the shop, only to be grasped as by a mighty hand. She felt herself lifted up in the gleaming grip of Trixie’s magic and turned to face the showmare.
Trixie’s eyes were a deadly red glint.
“You know her?” asked Trixie, her voice deceptively quiet. “Not a tourist, then?”
Fluttershy gulped.
Ditzy, who’d been setting up for another run at the brick wall, changed course and dove at Trixie. “Let her go!” shouted the grey mare.
Trixie’s hoof gleamed red with power. She backhoofed Ditzy without bothering to look and sent her flying to land with a loud *CRASH*…
… followed immediately after by the thunderous tolling of the alarm bell.
The showmare snapped her gaze to the pile of rubble that had once encased the Bunker Down Bell, and saw Ditzy lying in a heap amidst the shattered bricks, the bell tolling loudly above her head. Trixie’s errant strike had launched Ditzy straight through the wall and into the bell.
Semi-conscious, the grey mare mustered enough energy to pump a triumphant hoof in the air. “Ah gOt i~It,” she managed, “Mshhun ’ccomplshed. Imma sleep n~ow,” before passing into unconsciousness.
Trixie regarded her own gleaming hoof for a moment. “Power… Trixie wields power like an alicorn…” greedy delight gleamed in her gaze. “Such power…” her glance fell on Ditzy, momentarily that of a showmare again. “Such durability…” An avaricious grin distorted her features. “She shall make a fine addition to Trixie’s collection.”
Fluttershy fought the urge to struggle in Trixie’s grasp, knowing it would do no good. “C-collection?” she asked. If I can keep her talking, maybe she won’t go after Pinkie.
“Yes… collection,” sneered Trixie. With a flash of light, Trixie revealed her ‘collection’ – all of Fluttershy’s friends who’d been captured so far, transformed or altered to suit Trixie’s whims. In addition to those the birds had warned of, there were two great apple trees – tinted like Applejack and Big Mac – producing skinless apples, and a spear that matched the colors of Fritters. Fluttershy could not restrain a gasp of horror. “Recognize them?” cackled Trixie. “The Great and Powerful Princess Trixie thought you might.”
A bird bearing a striking color-similarity to Morning Song chirped angrily as a wingless Rainbow Dash spat invectives. “Trixie you coward! Let Fluttershy go or I’ll—”
Magical duct tape silenced the wingless pegasus.
“Yes, yes, you’ll do unspeakable things to Trixie,” said the showmare, sounding bored. “Before she was so rudely interrupted, Trixie was going to say…” she glared red at Fluttershy, “… that she detected the stench of the Elements upon you.” She pulled the pegasus closer. “Now… which one are you?” The amulet pulsed. “Kindness is it? Well, let’s put that Kindness to the test, shall we?”
Reaching out with her magic, Trixie pulled Pinkie Pie out of the destroyed shop front. Fluttershy half-sobbed with relief to see the pink mare was still breathing, but her relief was dampened by the sight of Pinkie – bruised and unconscious – still suffering the after-effects of unspent magic. Red electric shock rippled on and off along her body, causing her to twitch and spasm.
“This interloper,” snarled Trixie, “had the gall to place her grubby hooves upon the Alicorn Amulet.” She turned her mocking gaze upon Fluttershy. “What shall the Great and Powerful Trixie do with her, oh Bearer of Kindness?”
At the sight of Pinkie – so helpless, so weak, dangling from Trixie’s grip – a fire woke deep in Fluttershy’s heart. The fire that had let her overtake Rainbow Dash on the wing during the Discord debacle. The fire that let her risk Nightmare Moon’s wrath to help Twilight. The fire that let her face down a cockatrice and bend to her demands.
Fluttershy fixed her eyes on Trixie’s… and Stared.
“You will let her go.”
Trixie blinked rapidly, her eyes shifting between red and purple. “What?!” hissed the showmare.
“You will let her go.” Fluttershy repeated. “You will not hurt her anymore.”
The showmare recoiled, an animal-like noise rising in her throat. Her blinking intensified, and she turned her gaze away from Fluttershy, flinching as though from a blow.
“You will let her—”
Trixie backhoofed her across the face. Fluttershy felt one of her teeth loosen and tasted warm blood in her mouth.
“Impudence!” spat Trixie. “You are like all the rest! Always mocking Trixie, always pushing her around, using her, belittling her! Trixie was never given her due! NEVER! But now Trixie has all the power! Now Trixie is the greatest mage to walk the face of Equestria! Not Twilight Sparkle, not Luna, not even Celestia! Trixie! The Greatest and most Powerful wizard there ever was! All shall love Trixie and despair!”
Fluttershy let a globule of blood dribble out of her lips. She heard Rainbow Dash thrashing furiously in her stockade, heard the chirping of Morning Song and even what sounded like the rustling of trees alarmed at her plight, but she tuned them all out. Source, grant me wisdom.
“That is why you will not hurt her anymore,” said Fluttershy.
The baleful red eyes fixed again on her, lavender flickering in their depths.
“You have so much power you can afford mercy,” Fluttershy declared. “You claim the title of princess? I tell you that a beloved princess shows compassion to those who have transgressed. By sparing her, you demonstrate an inner greatness.” Her Stare bored into Trixie, not to cow, but to shine a light through the darkness that gripped the showmare. “You are one who seeks to delight an audience, not destroy them. That is your nature. You love to entertain, to hear the cheers of the crowd. If you spare Pinkie Pie, I promise you she will cheer loudest of all when she recovers, and it will make you happy to see her happy.”
Trixie stepped back, her eyes fixed on Fluttershy’s as though unable to look away. The storm clouds swirled ever darker overhead and thunder echoed from all directions. Trixie’s horn lit with a terrible light, nearly blinding in its intensity. Fluttershy did not look away, but kept her eyes fixed on Trixie’s.
The unicorn let out a great howling cry. There was a flash of light that blotted out all else, a great ringing clash, and then a slow, echoing rumble that followed.
When Fluttershy could see again, she found herself in a large cage, along with a medical satchel and the unconscious forms of Pinkie and Ditzy. The magic that rippled through Pinkie had subsided, and she lay calm. Fluttershy saw Trixie looking down at them all, her face unreadable, her eyes their natural hue.
Dipping her head with genuine gratitude, Fluttershy said, “Thank you.”
Trixie sniffed haughtily. “It is what a Great and Magnanimous Princess like Trixie does.” Then, under her breath, with a furtive glance as though speaking to some hidden figure, she hissed, “It was Trixie’s idea! Yes it was! It is better this way! Better, yes, better.” She turned away, muttering to herself.
Fluttershy heard a muffled, indistinct voice behind her, and looked to see Rainbow Dash – still gagged with duct tape – desperately trying to communicate. The tape prevented proper verbal communication, but the grateful, relieved tears she shed said all that needed to be said.
“We’re okay,” whispered Fluttershy in response. “We’re okay.”
“TWILIGHT SPARKLE!” roared the red-glinted Trixie, her voice magically amplified to be heard throughout the town, even over the storm. “TRIXIE HAS BESTED YOUR LACKIES!”
Stinging, icy rain fell from the roiling black thunderclouds.
“TRIXIE HAS STRIPPED THEM OF THEIR POWER! TRIXIE HAS CLAIMED YOUR HOME! TRIXIE IS THE GREATEST AND MOST POWERFUL UNICORN WHO EVER LIVED!”
She paused for breath, as the downpour became a torrent, and her voice had become as much a shriek as a warcry.
“YOU CANNOT ESCAPE, SPARKLE! STOP HIDING AND FACE TRIXIE!”
Chains of lightning flashed across the sky, casting the town in a harsh, red glare.
Through the storm came an answering call, loud enough to be heard over the storm, yet conversational in tone.
“No need to shout, Trixie,” said Twilight.
Trixie whirled around as the bright *snap* of teleportation illuminated the grim scene. Twilight Sparkle, features hard set and implacable as iron, faced down the mad showmare.
“I am here.”