"Is that all ya got? C'mon, boss! Put it over the plate here!"
Moondancer hesitated outside the Canterlot Guard exercise room. Then leaning around the open doorway, she peered in.
And saw Tempest, in full mage-armor including the helmet, hurling swings, punches, and whirling bucks at Grubber. The hedgehog was wearing heavily padded protective gear, and he alternated between ducking and weaving and egging her on as she tried to hit him.
"Whoops, too slow!" he called. "Heh heh, too short! Nah, too high! Eeep! Too low!" He barely leapt over a sweeping kick. "Ya call that a swing? I call it a miss! C'mon, gimme all ya got! You're the boss, you're the boss, you're the big scary boss..."
"Uh... excuse me?" Moondancer called.
"Huh?" Grubber looked round in surprise. And Tempest took the opportunity to land a solid punch on him. "Wah!" Grubber barreled across the room, smacking into the padded wall next to the door.
"Oooh," Moondancer winced. "Sorry, Grubber! Are you okay?"
"Sure," he said, hauling himself up. "Hardly felt that. But ya only got me that time," he yelled across at Tempest, "'cause I wasn't lookin'. Don't you go gettin' used to that!"
Tempest snorted derisively. Pulling off the helmet, she grabbed a towel from a rack nearby to mop the sweat from her face.
"Doesn't that hurt, Grubber?" Moondancer asked nervously.
"Nah. Why ya think I'm wearin' this getup?" He gestured to the padded armor. "And trust me, Moonie, if the boss wanted me down, I wouldn't be gettin' up again. So," he went on cheerfully, "what can we do ya for?"
"Well, I brought the scripts for the pageant. And some initial notes on pegasus society and history, so we... can... uh..." Moondancer fell silent as the Commander strode over. Her expression was cold and impossible to read.
"Thanks," Tempest said. "It's nice of you to do that. Tell Twilight we'll be ready."
"Sure. Uh..."
"Was there something else?"
Moondancer gritted her teeth, facing Tempest's stern expression. "I was just thinking, since we're going to be doing most of our scenes together, we might... well..." Then she cringed, embarrassed. "Never mind. It's not important." She turned to go.
"Moondancer," Tempest called. And when Moondancer turned back, Tempest was looking regretful. "Sorry. It's not you. Really, it's not. I'm just... so... frustrated!"
Her rear hoof caught a practice pony standing nearby. The blow knocked half the stuffing out of it, and sent the remnant hurtling through an open window behind her.
Grubber chuckled. "What'd I tell ya?"
Moondancer was staring at Tempest in surprise. "About what?"
"About Twilight! Well, you saw what happened earlier. She was so eager, so excited about this whole pageant thing. And then... it all turned sour on her. And now she's just going through the motions, burying herself in the work and responsibility. And I hate seeing her like that... I just hate it!"
Tempest snorted, scraping the matted floor with an iron-armored hoof. Then she realized she was doing it and stopped, looking embarrassed.
Moondancer risked a smile. "Twilight means a lot to you, doesn't she?"
Tempest sighed. "She means everything to me. She reminded me what it's like to care, to want to be a part of things. To do the right thing."
"You admit that?" Grubber muttered.
"Shaddup. And yeah, maybe I get a little overprotective. She is a grown pony. She can look out for herself. But she trusts me, Moondancer! She treats me like... her big sister or something. So I feel I should live up to that, be there for her. And when I can't, when I have to just shut up and go along with things, it just... just..."
"It hurts, doesn't it?" Moondancer said softly. "Not being able to say anything? Because nopony will listen. And if you try, it'll just make things worse. So you stay quiet, and nopony knows how you really feel..."
"Yeah. Something like that."
"Wow, I didn't know you felt like that, Tempest. You're always so... so tough all the time. I feel nervous just being around you."
Tempest smirked. "Ponies are supposed to feel that way around me. Gives me time to size them up, figure out how to deal with them. I mean, I don't have all the answers. I have to figure it out as I go, same as anypony else."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Take this pageant thing, for example." Tempest shrugged. "I know the legend, like anypony else. But I've never actually been in one of these before. How do I know what to do when I'm on stage? I've never done acting. How do I know I'm any good at it?"
"You might be better than you think," Moondancer said. "What about the time you pretended to be Nightmare Moon to help rescue me?"
"The lighting was on my side. Plus if you remember, I had some good coaching at the time. Speaking of which, don't think I don't appreciate the work you're doing researching pony history for us. It'll help. But when it comes down to it, I don't know how to act. And I don't want to let Twilight down. If I can do nothing else, I want to do my part in this pageant thing -- I want to get that right, at least."
Moondancer looked about to speak. Then she paused, her mouth open, blinking in surprise.
And then grinned. "Hold that thought! I'll be right back."
And turning, she bolted from the room.
Grubber looked up at Tempest. "Now ya done it, boss."
"Yeah..." Tempest said bemusedly. "Kinda walked right into that one, didn't I?"
Moondancer was back in short order, a small stack of books floating beside her in her magic.
"Method acting!" she said.
"Method acting?" Tempest echoed doubtfully.
"It's a technique," Moondancer explained, "whereby you study thoroughly the motivations and intentions of your character. You don't just act out a role, you live it, so your actions and responses are deeply authentic and true to life. By thorough study and some psychological techniques, you try to make use of your own life experiences to inform and reify your acting style."
"Well," Tempest warned, "I've never been one for studying much, and..."
She realized Moondancer was smiling up at her, blinking innocently.
"... annnnd that's where you come in." Tempest nodded. "All right. I'm willing to try anything. How do we start?"
"Well, first you need to read through the notes I put together on pegasus society. Then I can summarize the historical references on Commander Hurricane. And we can see what we can draw from in your own experiences to help you feel confident about your performance. Sound like a plan?"
"Are you trying to give me orders, Private? Attennnn-hut!"
The books hit the floor. Moondancer suddenly found herself standing stiffly at attention, saluting anxiously, with no idea how she got there.
Tempest chuckled. "Guess we don't have to worry about your acting skills," she said languidly. "So okay, gimme that summary of pegasus history. And let's see what we can do here."
"Uhh... okay?" Moondancer whispered. Very carefully...
------------------------------
"This... is weird," Sunset said. "But not totally unfamiliar."
She and Starlight were in the Advanced Projects tower workroom, standing in front of a set of dressing mirrors that had been set up beside the table. Sunset prodded at her forehead with a hoof. She knew her horn was still there. She could feel it by the tingle of its magic aura. But in the glass it was completely hidden by the glamour spell, even when she turned her head left and right to check.
She grinned at Starlight. "In the human world, at CHS, I had to get used to doing without a horn for real. That took some getting used to."
"I can only imagine," Starlight said. "What was it like over there? You know I'm still the only one of us who didn't get to visit."
"Pretty different. And... not so different at the same time. It's kind of hard to put into words."
"Yeah." Starlight scuffed the carpet with a hoof. "Guess you kinda have to go there to really get it, huh?"
"We still could," Sunset said. "The mirror still works. We just need to find a way to make sure the portal is connected to that other world at the right point in its timeline. Hey! You know what we ought to do? We should totally arrange a visit during Spring Break. Both here, and there. That way we'd have plenty of time for all of us to hang out together." Sunset went back to staring at herself in the mirror. "And there'd be less chance of freaking everypony out, seeing us hanging out with ourselves."
"Which is... not something you hear every day," Starlight said. "So anyway, the glamour spell -- you think it'll work?"
"Oh for sure. For us, anyways. But we need to make sure it works for Tempest and Moondancer. Hiding a horn is easy. Convincingly faking a set of functional pegasus wings? That's the real challenge."
Then Sunset frowned at herself in the mirror. "You know, no offense Starlight, but I kinda wish I was still teamed up with Moondancer? She seemed so nervous, and I was really looking forward to being there for her on stage. Covering for her, if she needs it. Helping her to not worry, and just have fun with this."
"You still can," Starlight pointed out. "We'll be right there in the wings. We can prompt her if she needs it."
"Well... she seemed to want somepony with her on stage, just in case anything went wrong. And having experienced what her life was like before our little group, I kinda feel responsible for looking out for her." Sunset stared at her invisible horn. "You think maybe you could extend the glamour spell a bit? Instead of making just my horn invisible, make all of me invisible? That way I could actually be onstage with her."
Starlight shook her head doubtfully. "It'd take a lot more power. And I'd be worried about switching the spell back and forth. What if it got stuck, with only half of you visible or something?"
"Yeah, fair point. One thing we don't want to do is over-complicate things. Still --"
"It might be simpler," Starlight went on, "just using a voice-projection spell. That way you could whisper prompts to her, encourage her if she seems to need it."
"Yeah, that does make more sense." And Sunset grinned. "Guess that's why Celestia made you my Smart Cookie, huh?"
"I try." Starlight smiled sheepishly. "But I was kind of hoping you'd review the text of the spell? Just to see if I missed any corner-cases?"
"In a minute. The Thespian Society dropped off our costumes, and I want to try out mine."
Sunset dug around in the cotton in one of the packing cases. She pulled out an article of clothing that was either a hat, or the Chocolate Ganache that Ate Fillydelphia. Parking it atop her mane, Sunset mugged at her own reflection in the mirror.
"I am a Chancellor!" she declared pompously. "I was elected because I can think outside the box. Which means... klank... I can also think inside the chimney!" She eyed Starlight loftily. "Can youuuu think inside the chimney? I didn't think so!" Unable to contain herself any longer, Sunset broke up laughing. "This is gonna be so great, Starlight! I know all of Puddinghead's lines by heart. I can just go to town with this, ham it up like anything. It's a dream come true!"
"Eeeyeah... about that," Starlight said. "You really think we ought to lean into the humor quite so much?"
"Huh? Whaddyamean?" Sunset stared at her. "Ponies expect this kind of thing. It's like... what do they call it in Trottingham? A pantomime? It's supposed to be over-the-top. At least Chancellor Puddinghead is."
"Yeah well, Moondancer dropped off these books on earth-pony culture." Starlight pointed to a stack of volumes sitting on the worktable. "To help us study up on their history?"
"What's to study?" Sunset dug into the box for the rest of her costume. "We all know the story of Hearth's Warming. How the three tribes came together... how the magic of harmony saved them from the Windigos..."
"I skimmed through some of the references Moondancer marked up," Starlight said. "And I have to admit, the portrayal of the Three Kingdoms in the pageant is, let's be honest, both of questionable historicity and pretty heavy-hoofed. The earth-ponies are pompous and thick-headed, the pegasi are territorial and warlike..."
"... and the unicorns are snooty and elitist," Sunset pointed out, making Chancellor-like faces at herself in the mirror. "It's pretty even-hoofed all round. Nopony comes out looking squeaky-clean. And everypony who watches the play year after year seems to enjoy it. I don't hear anypony calling for it to be shut down, do you?"
"Noooo... they don't," Starlight agreed uneasily. "And maybe... maybe that's not a good thing?"
"How do you mean?" Sunset eyed her, puzzled.
"Princess Celestia asked us to present the pageant this year. And in her note she made a point of saying we should present the true spirit of the season, representing the concerns and interests of all the tribes."
"Yeah. So?"
"Well, you have to admit there's more than a hint of stereotyping, maybe even tribalism, in the depictions of some of these characters. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, and it's just harmless fun. But I'm just not sure that's the kind of message the Heroes of Equestria ought to be sending."
Sunset didn't say anything. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, looking mildly cross.
"You really think a play that ponies have enjoyed for generations is tribalist."
Starlight opened her mouth, then shut it. And grimaced.
"I'm sorry. I'm overthinking things again and..."
"No." Sunset took off the pudding-shaped hat and stared at it. "You're absolutely right, Starlight. It might only be a joke, a bit of holiday fun. But we're not thinking about the joke. We're just presenting it and assuming it's funny. And that's not right, that's not right at all. Wow..." Sunset bit her lip, uncomfortably. "You know, all my life I've wanted to play Puddinghead in the pageant? And now suddenly, thinking about it... I'm not sure I want to have anything to do with it."
"So... what do we do?"
Sunset stared at herself in the mirror. And then, very deliberately, she set the hat back on her head.
"We tell the story the way it ought to be told. We don't take away the fun, the humor, that would just spoil things. But we back it up with a little sensitivity, a little understanding. Of what ponies went through back then, and how they dealt with it -- warts and all. We show these characters as they really were."
She struck a firm, decisive pose. "And, as leader of the earth-ponies, I have reached a decision. We are gonna go it alone!"
She motioned a hoof, smiling. And Starlight hurriedly composed herself and spoke in character. "Aw, that's disappointing, Chancellor. The other ponies didn't come around like we hoped?"
"'Fraid not, Smart Cookie. So we're just gonna to have to make do. Like earth-ponies have always done, when times got tough. We are going to go somewhere new, where we can farm and prosper in peace. And with me as our leader, what could possibly go wrong?"
With a hum of magic from her hidden horn, Starlight yanked an avalanche of cotton packing puffs from the costume boxes and buried Sunset in them.
"Where should I start?" she asked mischievously.
Then she ducked, as Sunset used her own magic to hurl the packing puffs back at her.
------------------------------
Twilight sighed long-sufferingly. "Let's go through the scenes from Act II one more time."
"For what reason? That run-through was perfection itself."
"Just once more to be sure. Okay, Trixie?"
"Ehem?"
Twilight rolled her eyes. "Sorry -- Lady Trixie." And then she paged back through the script.
The two of them were standing on the fold-out stage of Trixie's wagon, parked behind the Advanced Projects tower. Trixie had insisted on it as the venue she felt most comfortable with for rehearsals. And she was in full costume, with the elegantly fleured crown and purple, faux-fur-trimmed cape -- for "authenticity of the performance", as she'd archly put it.
Twilight had reluctantly gone along with it all. It was simpler than trying to persuade the showpony to do anything else. "Don't you think," she asked, "you might be overdoing the title thing just a bit?"
"Huh! And what good, pray tell, is having a title," Trixie huffed, "if ponies don't learn to use it and respect it?"
Twilight grimaced, and muttered under her breath: "Maybe you've heard the one about familiarity breeding contempt?"
Before Trixie could respond, Twilight read aloud from the script: "Scene: Castle of the Unicorns. Doors open in a blast of icy wind. Princess Platinum struggles in from the storm, collapsing in exhaustion."
The one thing that could make Trixie give up flaunting her title was a cue-line. She flung herself on the floorboards in shivering extremity.
"Clover the Clever!" she gasped. "I need you!"
"Yes, your Highness," Twilight read, while using her magic to drape a blanket around the Princess's shoulders. "Did the other tribes see reason as I predicted?"
"Hah!" Trixie rose to her hooves in high dudgeon. "Those other tribes are impossible! I for one can no longer bear to be anywhere near such lowly creatures." She trotted over to the small tuffet they were using as Platinum's lounge and flung herself upon it. "Unicorns are noble and majestic. We will no longer consort with the likes of them!"
And with perfect timing, she jammed her hooves into the small tub of water that was standing in for the Princess's hoof-bath, splashing Twilight's face liberally. Trixie seemed to be deriving particular satisfaction from replaying that bit over and over.
Twilight put up with it, resisting the temptation to put up a warding spell. Instead she used a small facecloth to dry off. Then she paged ahead.
"Scene: Snowy forest exterior. Platinum and Clover emerge from bushes, stage right."
"Oh!" Trixie moaned. "This is simply taking forever. My hooves are killing me! How long have we been walking for?"
"About five minutes, Your Highness," Twilight replied sharply. And it wasn't much of a stretch making her exasperated tone sound authentic.
Yet as they went on with the scene, Twilight had to grudgingly credit Trixie's skill. The showpony might be an impossible diva, but she totally threw herself into the part. She worked entirely from memory, didn't flub a single line, and carried herself with arch superiority throughout. Projection, stage presence, characterization... you name it, it was there. Trixie's experience on the stage made it all look stunningly easy.
If only the pony underneath wasn't such an attention-hogging toothache, Twilight thought to herself.
They came to the small blue scarf representing the trickle of water they had to cross. "Your Highness, it's just a stream," Twilight read from the script. "We can cross it easily."
"I refuse to get my robe wet." Trixie pouted disdainfully. "I have no intention of arriving at my new land looking like a bedraggled earth-pony... or worse yet, a rough-and-tumble pegasus. I, for one, have no intention of stooping down to their level."
Then Trixie smirked. She loved this part.
"On the other hoof, I have no trouble watching you stoop down."
Twilight gritted her teeth. And taking the "Princess" on her back, she lugged her over the scarf.
"And do watch the robe, Clover," Trixie purred in smug satisfaction. "It's worth more than all the books in your library."
Twilight's teeth ground. There were some parts of this play that went just a hair too far...
... and the script wasn't helping either.
------------------------------
Some time later, Twilight was seated at the main worktable in the Advanced Projects tower. On the table before her was a morass of checklists and notes, plus stacks of books and other assorted references on the pageant: musical, theatrical, and historical. Everything she needed to tackle the job with thoroughness and exactitude, all right at her hooftips.
Twilight rested her cheek on a hoof, chewing the feather-tip of her quill. And sighed inconsolably.
"Hey, Twi!" said Spike, trotting up the stairs from the main doors. "Whatcha workin' on?"
"Hi, Spike. I'm reading over the revisions Sunset and Starlight are suggesting for the pageant script. They have a lot of good ideas, which make sense and have good historical precedent, but..."
"But what?" Spike hopped up onto the seat next to her.
"I'm not so sure we should be messing with this," Twilight said. "It's well... traditional. It's been performed the same way for generations. Ponies might be upset if we suddenly changed it."
"Isn't that why Princess Celestia asked us to put this on? To change things up? Maybe bring it up to date?"
"I'm not so sure. This pageant is important. Lots of ponies come to see it, and they bring their children as well. Probably because they want to share the experience they had when they were foals. They might be upset if it wasn't what they remembered."
"Or they might like a change," Spike pointed out. "You did tell me once that changing stuff can be good, right? It gets you thinking about things in new ways."
"Yeah, but... what if you were reading one of your Power Ponies comics, and somepony changed the ending? Like, made the Masked Matterhorn a villain or something?"
"Woah!" Spike grinned. "An evil mind-control plot-twist cliffhanger? I'd love to read a story like that! But... eeyeah, I get your point."
Twilight stared at the revised script. "I'm just not sure we should be messing with ponies' fond memories like this. It's not our place to rewrite this thing. Better to leave it alone, let ponies enjoy something familiar."
Then she sighed again.
"What's wrong?"
"Oh, it's Trixie," Twilight muttered. "She's being insufferable. I mean, more than usual. I think this whole title thing has gone to her head. And she seems to take a perverse pleasure in rubbing my nose in it."
"Well, why don't ya tell her to quit it? Stop being such a pest?"
"I can't, Spike. She's Princess Luna's personal student now, kind of like I'm Princess Celestia's."
"So? Talk to Princess Luna, get her to straighten Trixie out."
"I can't do that, Spike. Luna's still adjusting to being a Princess again. How's it going to make her feel if I go whining to her about her student being difficult?"
"Then talk to Celestia. Maybe she'd know what to say to Luna?"
"That'd be even worse. And Celestia's taught me to be better than that, to solve my own problems. She's asked the Advanced Projects team to put on this play, and I'm in charge of it. So I need try to set the example here. And hope Trixie catches on."
"Trixie? Huh, fat chance!"
Twilight grimaced. "And it's taking all the fun out of playing Clover the Clever. I guess I hoped to avoid that by letting Starlight play Clover. But it didn't work out that way." She shrugged resignedly. "I'll just have to tough it out. And I don't think we should change the script. We should just... put the pageant on as it is, do as good a job as we can with it."
"You don't think we should try changing things, even a little bit?"
"No, Spike." Twilight shook her head. "Best to let things be."
"Oh. Okay. Well, I'll catch ya later!"
"Where're you off to in such a rush?"
"The others asked me to take care of somethin'. See ya!"
Spike hopped down off the seat, then trotted back across the workroom to the stairs. Then down them, and out through the main doors to the balcony outside.
Where Starlight, Sunset, Moondancer, and Tempest were waiting.
Spike looked at them and shrugged. "She said no, guys."
"To which part?" asked Starlight.
"To all of it. Changing the play, talking sense into Trixie... I think she feels responsible to Celestia for making things run smoothly. And she doesn't think she should take chances."
"Can't fault her for that, I guess," Sunset said.
"So what do we do now?" asked Moondancer.
Tempest snorted. She scowled darkly, scraping an armored hoof across the marble tiles.
"Now... we tackle this problem from the other end. Let's go."
------------------------------
Trixie was trotting along one of the corridors of the Palace, humming importantly to herself. She had just ascertained that the stage and performance rigging being constructed in the Royal Performance Hall was... adequate, as she would put it.
That Cheese Sandwich might be a gadabout, a gagster, and a flibbertigibbet, Trixie thought to herself, but he can get things organized, no question about...
A loud metallic clang ahead of her brought Trixie to a startled halt. It was Tempest, looming before her in full mage-armor, eyes narrowed threateningly. On either side of her were Sunset and Moondancer, forehooves crossed, both of them giving Trixie determined looks.
"Uhhh..." Trixie said cautiously, "what's going on?"
She suddenly found Starlight beside her, putting a friendly hoof around her shoulders, eyeing her sternly.
"Your Grace," Starlight said, "we need to talk..."
------------------------------
Twilight was still at the worktable, having finally finished her review of the script -- the original script, she told herself firmly -- in preparation for marking it approved and sending it off to be printed as rehearsal copies.
A gentle cough made her look up. It was Trixie, standing in the open area near the stairs. Behind her were the rest of the team, Tempest, Sunset, Starlight, Moondancer, Spike, and Grubber.
"Yes, Trixie?" Twilight asked tiredly. Then she rolled her eyes. "Sorry, I mean Lady Trixie."
"Ahem. It has been brought to Lady Trixie's attention that she has not been behaving in a fashion that is, how should I put it, consistent with proper etiquette and bearing of a Lady of the Royal Court? For that, Trixie wishes to proffer an apology." Then she shrugged and spoke normally. "But in Trixie's defense... you need to stand up for yourself more."
Sunset looked at the others. "Don't know about you gals, but as apologies go, this sucks."
Trixie held up a hoof. "Hear Trixie out! Now," she added to Twilight, "are you or are you not an Acting Princess?"
"Well, yes, but..."
"Then why aren't you acting like it? If I'm in your mane, put me in my place, set me straight! Weren't you listening to me? What is the use of a title if you're not going to use it, huh?"
"Because I shouldn't have to," Twilight objected heatedly, "You should know better, Trixie! You're so... so..."
"Arrogant?" Trixie quickly suggested. "Self-serving, obnoxious, even extravagant? Huh! I know you'd never say those things, Twilight, but it's what you're thinking. And it's all true! Trixie is all those things, she has to be! Look, I had to work my way up, struggle like anything to get attention and recognition. Whilst you, Acting Princess Twilight --" She emphasized the title with acid sarcasm. "-- have had it practically hoofed to you on a silver platter. So if I've finally achieved a bit of well-deserved recognition, then by gosh, I'm gonna play that for everything it's worth!" Trixie determinedly thumped the floor with a hoof.
And then, in the shocked silence that followed, she took off her hat and held it in her forehooves, looking uncommonly humble. "But..." she said quietly, "I'm also part of this group, right? Trixie would never want to give that up, title or no title."
Surprised, Twilight shrugged. "Well, of course. Like Sunset says, we're a team."
"Right. And you're in charge of that. So, you need to say what's what. Call me out, set the rules -- be in charge! Trixie won't mind."
"Are you sure? Because I do want us to be a team, to work together. But I also know how important it is for each of us to have the space to be ourselves. Even when that can be a little... frustrating," she added grumpily. "And if I allow that for everypony else then... well... I need to do the same for you, don't I?"
Trixie nodded. "How about this? The Great and Powerful Lady Trixie does not promise not to be difficult, irritating, self-aggrandizing, whenever it suits her." Then she smirked. "But she will try to make sure it's to a purpose. Make sure it's helping the group." She settled her hat back on her mane, and brushed the edge of it with a hoof. "After all, as the saying goes, the show must go on, eh?"
Twilight nodded. And managed a smile. "I think I can live with that."
Then she looked back at the table, at the script ready to be sent out. And pushed it aside, reaching instead for the revised script. "You know, gang, maybe it would be a good idea to change things up a bit. Work in some of these really great revisions you've come up with. Let me give this one more pass, maybe tweak a few things. And then we can give it a read-through together, see how it flows."
Sunset nodded. "Sure thing, Twilight."
And she and the rest of the group looked at each other, grinning proudly. Sometimes, in order to unstick a logjam, you simply had to find the king log.
Or in this case, the Acting Princess...