//------------------------------// // The Mage // Story: Bulletproof Heart: The Great, The Powerful, and the Bulletproof // by PaulAsaran //------------------------------// It was nearly noon by the time Rarity dragged herself out of bed, and even then she’d only gotten perhaps four hours of sleep. They’d taken time to bury the bodies. It had been hard work made all the worse by how weary everypony was, but Rarity hadn’t minded. It wasn’t often she got the luxury of respecting the dead. The nightmares hadn’t been so bad. Well, yes, they’d been bad, but Rarity was relieved to have them. They clarified that she wasn’t as desensitized as she sometimes feared. Paranoia drove her to check on the others. The three living attackers had been tied up in a cupboard closet, which itself had been both locked and blocked off from the rest of the house by a pile of ruined furniture. Rarity couldn’t move the furniture on her own, but everything still appeared as it had last night so she assumed they were still in there. Trixie was still piled up in her own guest bed, the one under which the fire had been started. Judging by the snoring, she wasn’t likely to crawl out of her cottony cocoon any time soon. In the room opposite them – the one Blow Dry had been using last night – she saw Big Mcintosh and Scootaloo. The filly was sleeping on top of the stallion, being small enough in comparison to his bulk to lay entirely on his chest and stomach. Her whole body rose and fell with his heavy breaths, and her ear was pressed firmly against his heart. It was a touching scene, but also a mysterious one; where was Vapor Trail? Rarity found the mare sitting on a chair out the back door, roasting carrots over a fire. It was probably the best she could do given the state of the kitchen. Looking up from her work revealed heavy bags beneath bloodshot eyes, a mane made wild by lack of attention, and the slumped posture of someone who desperately longed for sleep. Rarity settled in the chair beside her. “Forgive me, dear, but you look a mess. Did you get any sleep at all last night?” “No,” the pegasus bluntly replied. Though she tried to take on a more relaxed pose, her wingtips kept twitching. Rarity’s sharp eye drifted over the tension in the mare’s arms and legs. “I keep thinking about what almost happened last night. I can’t thank you or Trixie enough for being there. I don’t think we’d have survived the attack otherwise.” And had I not felt the need to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, we all might have died anyway. Casting that thought aside, Rarity instead answered, “You should be thanking Scootaloo. She’s the one who ignored the instructions of every authority figure telling her that you were perfectly safe and dragged both Trixie and myself into this.” She tactfully ignored the fact that it was that very stubbornness that led to the attackers finding them out here in the first place. Vapor Trail stared at the blue, slightly cloudy sky, completely devoid of energy. “She’s still asleep, then?” “Wrapped around Big McIntosh’s chest as though he were a teddy bear.” “She hasn’t done that with me since she was very little,” Vapor wistfully noted, her smile frail. “She must feel safe with him.” She closed her eyes with a heavy sigh. “That’s good. I was worried about whether she was really accepting of him in our life.” Though her magic was still weak from last night’s abuse, Rarity now had more than enough to rotate the carrots over the fire. “Blow Dry suggested that she clung to him because she felt like you were ignoring her.” Vapor’s frown grew a little more pronounced. She didn’t stop staring at the sky. “I’m in love. Mackey’s a busy stallion with an important job, so I tend to cling to him whenever he makes time for me. I knew Scootaloo was unhappy with that, but I figured she’s grown enough to at least understand. Besides, I thought…” Her ears folded back as she clasped her hands together. “I thought having a male role model around would be good for her. Be it Mackey or Blow Dry, whatever worked.” What was going through the mare’s mind? Rarity had a suspicion. “Nopony can blame you,” she offered. “Blow Dry made his own decisions.” “It’s not that.” With a groan, the pegasus sat up and rubbed at her eyes, then reached for one of the carrot-holding sticks. She eyed the root thoughtfully, testing its heat with her fingers. “To be honest, I’m not even upset about Blow Dry. Sure, he betrayed us, but I also fully believe that he came to be fond of Scootaloo. I can’t imagine how hard a position that had put him in.” A respectable position, or so Rarity felt. Following the mare’s lead, she plucked the second stick from the fire and pulled a carrot off it with her magic. “I doubt that your sister will be so forgiving.” Vapor took a large bite out of her carrot, not bothering to take it off the stick. She pivoted to look at the house behind them. Apparently not seeing anything untoward, she turned forward and blandly announced, “She’s not my sister.” Oh? Rarity was very much surprised that Vapor was willing to admit to something that she apparently didn’t want others overhearing. “You mean she’s adopted?” “No.” Vapor’s face was set in an unhappy, forlorn stare as she took another slow bite of her carrot. She chewed just as slowly, perhaps taking the opportunity to consider how much to say. When she finally swallowed, she spoke in a hollow voice. “I mean that the day my parents died is also the day Scootaloo was conceived.” She said nothing else. There was no need. Rarity’s sharp mind was already putting the puzzle pieces together, and they created a horrifying picture. That of a filly traveling the width and breadth of Equestria with her merchant parents. Parents who most likely died protecting her during a bandit raid. And what are a bunch of heartless bandits to do with a defenseless filly? Not taking her eyes off her carrot, Rarity quietly asked, “How old were you?” Vapor sucked in a long breath through her nose. Then another. After the third, she whispered, “Eleven.” Rarity felt numb. What kind of brutes could do something like that to an eleven-year-old? And then she bore the results to fruition, creating the lively bundle of fur and feathers that was today known as Scootaloo. Not even a teenager, and already… “Does she know?” “No.” Clutching the carrot-stick as if it was the only thing keeping her from breaking down, Vapor shuddered. “I don’t know if I’ll ever tell her. I love her so much, how could I shatter her by explaining how she came into this world? That’s too much for anypony, let alone a filly her age.” No argument could be offered. Rarity was at a loss for what to say, partially because she was wondering if there was any way to find the bastard responsible for all this and put a bullet in him. On top of that was confusion. “Why tell me something so personal?” “I don’t know,” Vapor confessed. Nibbling on her carrot and staring into the fire, she thoughtfully continued, “I think it’s just that… I don’t know. After everything that happened last night, I think I just needed to tell somepony.” Tears welled in her eyes. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you? Maybe I was hoping you’d understand and… And not…” Rarity reached over to grasp the mare’s arm. When Vapor met her gaze, she offered her most comforting smile. It was important that the mare see no judgment, no condemnation, and all the support she could muster. For she remembered what it was like to be the target of unwanted, even repulsive advances. She remembered, and she understood. So when Vapor Trail let her tears flow freely and pulled Rarity in for an awkward hug, she offered no protests. They didn’t hold the embrace for very long, owing mostly to the discomforting position that it created with them atop their chairs. Once they did separate however, Rarity made sure to scoot hers a little closer. As they remained side by side, quietly eating the rest of their individual carrots, she felt a certain comfort born from finally being with somepony who understood. Perhaps this moment was as therapeutic to her as it was to Vapor. It was a remarkably freeing sensation. Yet the heavy topics weren’t quite over, so once she had her second carrot in hand and a couple fresh ones over the fire, she asked, “Does McIntosh know?” Vapor nodded, and this time her smile was warm. “I told him before I said ‘yes’. I couldn’t bring myself to marry him otherwise. He took it so well. I cried more for that than the ring he was slipping on my finger.” Rarity grinned and gave the mare another one-armed hug. “Well, it seems like Scootaloo will get that good male role model after all.” The two shared a warm smile, and Rarity felt confident that things were going to be alright for the mare and her family. “Is that food? Please tell me that’s food.” Trixie stumbled out of the house. Mane akimbo beneath her felt hat and one hand rubbing at an eye, she seemed not to care that she was still in her star-spangled pajamas. “I could eat my own weight in peanut butter and crackers right now.” It was decided, for perfectly obvious reasons, that the Apples wouldn’t be staying another day at the vacation home. To that end Vapor Trail flew to the city to procure a wagon. She’d promised to return with the Manehattan Guard so that the three ponies could be properly detained and questioned, although Big Mac had subtly insinuated he knew who was responsible. Though he never named names, Rarity gathered it had been a rival agricultural family. Scootaloo hadn’t been exaggerating when she said Manehattan took the concept of ‘cutthroat politics’ literally, but Big McIntosh reiterated that this was an unusual case. Enough so that the Manehattan Guard would have no choice but to get involved and do a proper investigation. The other families would no doubt turn on the one responsible, even those that might quietly have supported it. Maintaining public perception was a priority, and the common ponies would be very uncomfortable if they feared another inter-family war like the Apple Incident was on the way. The only catch in all this was Trixie. Being under house arrest meant some ponies in the Guard would have… questions for her. She was very eager to be away from that vacation house before said Guard showed up. Seeing as Rarity had the only available dust devil (Blow Dry having taken Princess) and was owed Trixie’s services, she agreed to ride the mage back to the Arcaenum. Scootaloo caught them as they were preparing to leave. “Rarity! You’ll come visit sometime, won’t you?” Rarity felt no need to think on the matter. “I imagine this isn’t the last time I’ll be visiting Manehattan,” she declared, relishing the filly’s grin. “As long as you keep that wicked matriarch of the Apple Family away from me, I see no reason not to visit.” Wings fluttering, Scootaloo smirked. “Why do I get the feeling you’re only faking not liking her?” Making sure to wear her most put-upon manner, she rewarded that with the only suitable response: “What? Moi, fake something like that? Never. How dare you slander me with such accusations.” “Right.” With a giggle, the filly hugged Rarity around the waist. “Thanks for saving us.” Trixie, standing by Ophelia, put on a scowl. “Trixie helped too, you know.” Still holding Rarity tight, Scootaloo didn’t miss a beat. “You were paid.” “Now, now.” Rarity patted the filly on the head. “It was hardly a one-mare show, and Trixie deserves credit.” With a sigh, Scootaloo stepped back and turned to the mage. “Yeah, I suppose. Thanks, Trixie.” “That’s the ‘Great and Powerful Trixie’ to you, you little scamp,” the mare replied with a flamboyant, arm-raised pose. Then she dropped it and flashed a grin. “And you’re welcome.” Scootaloo returned the look, but then sobered. She focused on Rarity, wings shivering, and held her hands behind her back. “And, uh, th-thanks. For what you said last night. I… I think I’d have regretted it.” Rarity took in the filly’s pout. It was a far cry from the determined, angry pony that had been so close to pulling the trigger last night. Not for the first time today, she wondered about what could have been. “He was very worried for you last night. You are aware, yes?” Uncertain features turned hard. “That doesn’t make things any easier.” “Oh, I know,” Rarity reassured her. “His actions were certainly wrong. But perhaps someday it’ll allow you to forgive him.” In truth, Rarity wouldn’t blame the filly if that never happened. But she wouldn’t be the Bulletproof Heart if she didn’t at least advocate for the possibility. She was convinced that Blow Dry regretted his actions, and any pony who could regret could be redeemed. If he crossed paths with Scootaloo again, she may be the linchpin to such a path for him. But that was for later. “Maybe,” Scootaloo finally, grudgingly agreed. “But if it’s alright with you, I’m going to stay mad at him for now.” “You’ll get no arguments from me on that,” Trixie muttered, just loud enough for them both to hear. Rarity saw no reason to debate. Scootaloo had every right to be upset. “Just keep it in mind for when your head cools down.” She looked past the filly to Big McIntosh, who was standing in the doorway of the house and watching with his usual stoic expression, now with a stalk of grass between his teeth. She offered him a wave, to which he nodded. “Trixie hates to interrupt,” the mage declared in a tone that suggested exactly the opposite, “but the Guard will be here any minute and she’d really like to be going. You take care of yourself, kiddo.” After a final hug from Scootaloo, Rarity mounted Ophelia and helped Trixie to do the same. The mage held on tightly, clearly still uncomfortable with the idea of riding, but didn’t complain as they made for a steady gallop towards Manehattan. Rarity made sure to head north, just to avoid running into Vapor Trail and the Guard. “If you ask Trixie,” the mage sourly declared as they approached the city, “that stallion got off light.” That didn’t surprise Rarity in the least. She pursed her lips as she recalled the mare’s words during the fateful confrontation. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wanted Scootaloo to pull the trigger.” To which Trixie scoffed. “Then Trixie has news for you, Bulletproof: “You didn’t know better.” They found Lyra exactly where they’d left her: all alone behind the front desk of the Arcaenum’s massive lobby. Even before the side door they came in from closed, she informed Trixie that nopony had come looking for her. Trixie seemed very relieved to hear it. The mage then promptly but apologetically rebuffed Lyra’s questions as to what happened and why it took a whole day to do a simple job before somewhat forcefully leading Rarity by the hand to the upper floors. “I appreciate that I’m a hot commodity,” Rarity noted as she was practically dragged up the stairs, “but I do believe I am capable of following under my own power.” Trixie, perhaps realizing how tightly she was gripping Rarity’s hand, promptly let go. She even appeared abashed by her behavior. “Trixie didn’t mean— I went through all that crap last night when all I really wanted to do was get to your part of our deal. Forgive me if I’m eager to finally get started.” Rarity concluded that was close enough to an apology, rubbing her hand as they reached the landing and made for Trixie’s quarters. “It’s alright, I suppose. But was it really necessary to brush Lyra off? I was under the impression you two were friends.” “She is. I mean, we are! Trixie just—” The change that had come over the mage was as blatant as it was intriguing. There was an anxiety to her manner, an anticipation that she seemed to be both very much and not at all looking forward to. Had she been shown even the slightest inkling of interest in the last twenty-four hours Rarity would have thought she was fast-approaching a confession of attraction. The temptation to tease such a thing was powerful, but she refused to succumb. Whatever Trixie was preparing to bring up, it was clearly something of great import to the mage. No point belittling that. They entered Trixie’s chambers – which were every bit as messy as Rarity distressingly recalled. Sweetie Belle would have felt right at home. Only when the door closed did Trixie sputter her way back into proper sentences. “Lyra is my friend. She’s the best, and her patience is far more than I deserve.” She moved for a back door, beckoning for Rarity to follow as she stepped over and around piles of discarded books and laboratory equipment with the deftness of familiarity. “But Lyra can’t help me with this, and the fewer ponies that know of it, the better.” Well, Rarity would be lying if she said that didn’t make her curious. Unfortunately for Trixie, curiosity didn’t outweigh her reservations. Of all the things that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, none were quite so alarming as Trixie’s conduct. There was also the matter of what Rarity had originally paid two obsidians for. “Might I remind you that you have services I am in need of as well?” “You need not,” Trixie primly declared as they entered the next room. “I have every intention of meeting your needs first.” It was much smaller than the last and appeared to be a private study. The stone brick walls and lack of a window made it feel disturbingly claustrophobic, but the magi-lights on the ceiling kept the room brightly lit. Short bookcases took up most of the walls, along with a small, wide-open cupboard of dishes. Going by the small pile of plates and silverware on the corner of an already messy desk, Trixie often took her meals in here. Let it not be said that the mage hadn’t worked for her position, given the copious number of ancient-looking scrolls, open books, and scribbled notes that made free space on the desk practically impossible to find. Trixie promptly began moving things around, acting swiftly but taking great care with the objects on the desk. There wasn’t enough room for Rarity to help even were she inclined, so she stood back and began unbuttoning her shirt so as to get at her necklace. It was clear that her companion was searching for something, and the inability to find it was driving Trixie to unpleasant grumblings. After nearly two minutes of this, she began opening drawers. She groaned as she opened the fourth one, reaching into it swiftly. “Why is it always in the last place you look?” What she pulled out was a long, flat board that Rarity soon realized was a folded… something. Trixie moved like she was going to set it on the desk, only to pause when she realized there wasn’t near enough space for it. “Right. Let’s, uh, take this back out there.” She noted Rarity's unamused expression and blushed. “What? Trixie is doing important research and doesn’t want to risk misplacing the things on her desk! Besides, you can’t watch what she’s doing in here. Too narrow.” Deciding she should just accept the excuse, Rarity led the way back into the pigsty that was the main room. Trixie quickly went to one of the occupied tables and began clearing off junk, at one point outright sweeping things away with her arm and paying no mind to the crash of potentially fragile stuff. Rarity used her magic to clear a small space on the floor opposite, taking care not to damage anything as she did; if Trixie was going to blame anypony for ruining something she might need later, it would be herself. “Okay!” Trixie slapped the thin board down on the table and promptly unfolded it. It was covered in small engravings and divots. The mage’s horn lit up as she raised her hand high, and within seconds small gemstones were levitating from various recesses around the room and into her palm. “This is what the average simpleton might know as an enchanter’s board. Contrary to popular ignorance, it is not used to actually enchant things.” She began carefully examining the gemstones, one at a time and with her horn lit. Most she tossed aside, but some she placed in the divots of the board. Rarity quickly noted that the ones placed were all trillion cuts with step styles, and none were larger than the (woefully but practically short) nail of her pinkie finger. There didn’t appear to be any correlation to gemstone type though. Trixie continued her explanation, entirely focused on her work. “The primary purpose of the thaumaturgic spectra chassis is to detect magic and, with the proper application, interpret enchantments. It can even be used to help dis-enchant an object, although that’s very tricky and liable to make said object explode in your face if you’re not ready for it. Luckily, enchanting is Trixie’s expertise.” Rarity’s couldn’t help but hesitate. “I’m not here to get anything disenchanted.” “Hmm?” Trixie looked up from her work as if surprised that Rarity was still in the room. “Oh! No no no, sorry. Trixie just got lost in her own magi-babble. She’s arranging the board for detection.” A couple more gems were set in place. The lines connecting all the gems began to glow a faint magenta up until the mage’s horn dimmed, at which point the aura faded. “Okay, it’s all set up. Now we just need to place the enchanted object on the chassis and let Trixie work her magic.” And then Trixie began to stare. For a brief, blush-inducing moment, Rarity thought it was her bosom that so held the mage’s sudden and wide-eyed fascination. Then she realized that her necklace was now sitting atop her shirt. A sudden and unexpected bout of protectiveness led her to press a hand against the purple, diamond-shaped gem at the necklace’s center. “Um…” Licking her lips, Trixie raised a finger and pointed at the necklace. “Is that what I think it is?” Rarity half-turned away, not even sure why she did it. “I suppose that depends on what you think it is.” The mage let out a feeble whine as the necklace left her field of view. Her hands grasping at air, she breathlessly asked, “Is that what you wanted me to analyze? Please say yes.” Yes, it had been, but now Rarity feared she might not get it back. Spike had suggested she go to Trixie, but this behavior was far too much! Maybe she should… “I-I’ll give you the two obsidians back. Just let me hold it!” “Trixie Lulamoon!” Rarity did not like the high pitch of her own voice in that instant. “Get a hold of yourself.” The outcry was enough to make Trixie step back, her focus shifting at last back to Rarity’s face. She appeared lost, then confused, then settled on annoyed. Rubbing at her face, she muttered, “Right. Right. You’re a professional, Trixie. Stop acting like some lovestruck foal. It’s not like it’s… Not like it’s real…” She fell into a sort of stupor, staring at something beyond Rarity with a gradually growing, unnerving smile. Only to end the episode by slapping herself across the cheek. The crack of the impact was enough to make Rarity wince. “Are you alright?” Trixie heaved a long breath out, hands spreading wide and palm-down as if to dissipate a miasma. Then she offered a somewhat twitchy smile, clasped her hands together, and let out a strained, “So. What exactly is Trixie analyzing for you?” Her eyes flicked to the necklace a time or two, but otherwise strained to hold Rarity’s gaze. Perhaps it would be… appropriate to start small. Carefully, Rarity pulled out Ruby Heart. “This, for starters.” She’d not actually intended to have Trixie examine the gun, but the little pony in her head was begging for a delaying tactic. Far from showing disappointment, Trixie hummed and took on a thoughtful pose. “I have to admit, I’ve been curious. It’s a very unusual sidearm.” She reached out a hand, which Rarity kept a scrutinizing watch on lest it go for something other than the weapon. “If I may?” Rarity found herself reluctant to hand over the gun, but it was either that or jump straight to the real reason she was here. Into Trixie’s hand it went. The mage examined the gun from several angles – to Rarity’s silent alarm, this included looking right down the barrel – before carefully placing it in the center of the enchanting board. At least she had the wherewithal to have the barrel facing away from either of them. “Now I just place my hands here…” Trixie set her palms down on the board, each atop a single gem. “…and we see what we’ve got.” Her horn lit up, and the magenta lines swept across the board yet again. This time the color also appeared in Trixie’s eyes, the bright glow masking the pupils entirely. She cocked her head one way, then another. Stepping back slightly, she lowered her face so that it was just inches from the gun. The entire time she did so, she hummed some tune Rarity didn’t recognize. She didn’t seem to be aware of the sounds she was making. Rarity watched in quiet fascination as the magenta lines on the board retreated and advanced along the engravings in strange patterns she couldn’t make heads or tails of. Ruby Heart itself even started levitating a little, not much but more than enough to be apparent. “Fascinating,” Trixie cooed, clearly a mare in her element. “Judging by the little auras I’m seeing, there are gemstones hidden within the barrel’s metalwork. Rubies, if I’m not mistaken. I can detect hints of…” She blinked, the motion odd as it made her eyes darken for an instant. “This can’t be right. The magic is awkward. It feels almost – and I acknowledge this makes absolutely no sense – wet. And it’s almost like the rubies are humming to me.” The mage stood up straight, cocking her head left and right as if trying to rid her ears of sand. Her perplexity was blatant even with her eyes obscured by the magenta shine. “Where did you get this?” Rarity, just as flummoxed by Trixie’s statements as the mage herself, responded, “It was a gift from a friend. He told me it was originally found in Siren’s Pass.” She hesitated, fearing that this might sound like utter stupidity. “Sirens don’t actually exist, do they?” “They did. Once.” Trixie refocused on Ruby Heart, her curiosity unabated. “I suppose they still might. I wouldn’t have the first clue what their magic would feel like, but I can say for certain that I’ve never felt magic like this. If a siren were to waltz in right now and say it belongs to them, I would have no means of refuting their claim.” Spike had once told her that the Ruby Heart was enchanted, but was he aware of by whom? Rarity would make a point of asking him about this in her next letter. Not expecting a positive response, she asked, “So does that mean you can’t figure out what the enchantment does?” Trixie drummed her fingers on the board, still studying the gun. “Best guess? Something to do with ruby-tipped bullets. I’m sorry to say that’s as much as I can offer.” Which was as much as Rarity had already known. A shame she didn’t have any. Such ammunition would have to be custom-ordered, and she wasn’t exactly made of bits. Or rubies, as the case may be. With a touch of disappointment, she nodded and pulled out Silver Lining. She had no reason to believe the gun was enchanted, but since she was here she might as well have it checked. It was made by a wealthy recluse with short-lived dreams of heroism, so the possibility was by no means zero. “Can you check this one now?” “Oh.” There was no missing the disappointment in Trixie’s voice, and even without being able to see them Rarity knew she’d glanced at the necklace. “R-right. Yes, of course.” She raised her hands from the board and let her magic fade; the board and her eyes promptly lost every hint of magic. Plucking the Ruby Heart up, she offered it to Rarity with one hand and took Silver Lining in the other. Her eyes kept flicking to the necklace. “To be clear,” Rarity offered, more to refocus Trixie’s attention where it belonged than anything else, “I don’t actually know if it’s enchanted.” “Oh, I’m sure it is,” Trixie promptly responded, setting Silver Lining on the board. “I understand you might not have noticed, but I can feel the magic in it.” To Rarity’s surprised expression she amended, “I do have training in this sort of thing.” Before Rarity could comment any further, the board lit up and Trixie was doing her work. The mage’s eyebrows shot up almost immediately and Rarity watched in amazement as the magenta lines began to move in rapid, seemingly random bursts. “Whoa. This thing is enchanted with a capital ‘E’. This may take a moment.” It was? Given Rarity hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary about the gun before, she found she was willing to wait as long as it took. Did Cranky know that Silver Lining was enchanted? Had Moonlight Raven bothered to inform him? She certainly hadn’t said anything to Rarity about it, so perhaps not. Unless her knowledge had been assumed. But why would Cranky not tell her about every potential advantage, especially given the circumstances of him giving it to her? No, he must have not known. Rarity found herself with a great many questions, and she dearly hoped Trixie was up to answering at least some of them. It was a solid five minutes of hemming and humming and pouting and scowling before, at last, Trixie spoke up. “There are a lot of layers here. Whoever enchanted this gun is a master. They might be better than I am, and rest assured I don’t say that lightly.” Rarity decided she would be best served by not commenting. Instead she leaned a little closer, intent on learning more about her beloved weapon. “Okay, let’s take this one at a time.” Trixie ran a finger along the gun. The caress was almost loving, an expert admiring another’s craft. “The entire weapon, cylinder included, has a spectral inhibition charm. Magic should be radiating off the gun in such thick waves even a laymare would be able to notice, but this masks it so that if you’re not trained or talented, you would be none the wiser.” She glanced up at Rarity. “As an added bonus, it would also make it very hard to disenchant. Probably an unintended side-effect, since it doesn’t matter in terms of the gun’s actual use. “Next, the barrel itself.” She placed her finger on said barrel. “Three enchantments here. One is to improve aim. Did you find yourself unusually better at hitting targets when you got it?” Rarity felt a little small at that statement. She distinctly remembered her first time firing the gun and how shocked both she and Cranky were at her skill. Had that all been a lie? Then what of her entire reputation? “It’s… It’s the first gun I ever fired, not counting the one I used in self defense at point blank range.” Trixie hummed her acknowledgement. “Well then, you may have this to thank. It won’t perform miracles like making a bullet dodge obstacles, but as long as your aim is close enough and your focus is appropriate the gun can do the rest.” Pursing her lips and trying to ignore the breezie making knots of her insides, Rarity asked, “How would you define ‘close enough’?” “Near-misses,” Trixie clarified. “If you want to hit the head but point at the knee, you’re hitting the knee. But if you aim for a nose yet point at the eye, you’ll probably hit the nose.” As an afterthought, “Please bear in mind that I’m not an expert on guns, so I’m throwing out ballpark estimates here.” “Duly noted.” Rarity was at least reassured that she wasn’t proven completely incompetent by this discovery. She wasn’t sure she liked that her seemingly supernatural gunfighting skills had been getting a nudge all along, but she’d deal with her bruised ego later. “And the other enchantments?” Trixie promptly replied, “There’s an acceleration enchantment. The thaumic mechanisms are more complicated than you’d think, but the effect is simple: the bullets come out faster than they would normally. Should give you better aim at shorter distances and would also give your range a boost.” Rarity wasn’t sure she could pinpoint a specific incident where this benefited her, although it likely had. She nodded and gestured for Trixie to keep going. “Third but not least is a triggering charm.” Trixie tapped her finger on the very edge of the barrel. “Right here. Its one and only purpose is to activate the spells captured in enchanted bullets.” “I can fire enchanted bullets?” Rarity blinked. “Enchanted bullets are a thing?” How had she never encountered this? Trixie appeared just as stumped. “A pony in your position, with your fame, has never heard of enchanted bullets?” “Not as far as I know.” Thinking back on all the many, many gunfights she’d faced in the last few seasons, Rarity found herself at a loss. Not once could she recall anything remotely like an ‘enchanted’ bullet. Just the regular lead kind. “What kind of enchantments can a bullet have?” “Are you kidding? The possibilities are limitless!” Trixie broke into a wide grin, leaning forward against the table as her magenta-glowing eyes crinkled up in the corners. “Bullets that create a burst of flame. Bullets that create ice shards. Bullets that are non-lethal!” She blinked, the magenta glow fading briefly as she did, then stood straight once more. Looking up at the ceiling, she amended, “Well, I suppose the possibilities aren’t limitless. You couldn’t enchant a bullet to heal wounds, for example. Or could you? Hmm…” Enchanted bullets. Enchanted. Bullets. The potential for such a concept swirled like a tornado in Rarity’s skull. How much easier could her future battles be with something like that? Imagine if she’d gone face-to-face against the Flaming Vermillion with those in her arsenal! Come to think of it, how in Luna’s name hadn’t the Gang attempted to use them against her first? Temptation and a hint of excitement prompted Rarity to ask, “And where might I procure such bullets?” With all the giddiness of a filly on her birthday, Trixie chirped, “I’ll make them! I’ll even give you the first batch for free if you let me make some experimental ones for field testing. All I ask is that you let me know how they perform.” “How could I possibly say ‘no’ to that?” Rarity asked with utmost sincerity. Now a touch excited, she looked down at Silver Lining and eagerly asked, “Is there anything else?” “Is there?” Trixie gleefully ran her hand along the entire gun yet again, every bit as adoring as before. “If you ever find out who made this, let me know because I want to shake their hand. Every part also appears to have a strengthening charm. You could drop this tower on it and it wouldn’t receive so much as a scratch. Let me tell you, it took some tedious and devoted work to make that happen. “Last, but not least—” Trixie all but purred as her finger toyed with Silver Lining’s cylinder, “—is this. The cylinder has what may be the most exquisite bit of enchanting work Trixie has ever had the pleasure of witnessing. This beautiful thing is a complicated network of aura batteries!” This had come out like some grand pronouncement, but Rarity was left underwhelmed. Primarily because “I have no idea what that means.” “That’s okay, because I do.” Trixie snapped her fingers, and the magenta lines disappeared from both the enchanter’s board and her eyes. She pulled something out of a pocket of her shirt and, fanning her hand out in a wide arc over her head, released what appeared to be glittering dust. Rarity yelped and started to dodge out from under the stuff, but a flash of Trixie’s horn arrested its descent and shaped the dust into a swirling, sparkling sphere. As Rarity watched in mild amazement at the deft magics on display, some of the dust took on the shape of a gun. Rarity was perplexed to see that the gun appeared to be perfectly solid, although the smooth, unified form made it clear that it was by no means real. “For the purpose of this explanation, there are two types of enchantments,” Trixie began, her eyes not leaving the dark blue material levitating just a few short feet over her head. “The first is semi-permanent. They feed off ambient magic or the magic stored in the user’s natural reservoir to keep a charge.” The dust-gun began sucking in more bits of glittery stuff from the air around it, before it ‘fired’, sending a dust bullet across the room to explode against the far wall. “As long as there’s enough charge remaining, the enchanted item can keep doing its thing.” The ‘gun’ ‘fired’ several more times, each creating an explosion of dust that would rapidly return to the main sphere. “Most of the enchantments on Silver Lining are of this variety. It feeds itself using local magic, either from the world around it or from you directly. Perfectly normal and perfectly safe, provided the drain is small enough. And for these enchantments, yeah, you shouldn’t even notice. “The second type of enchantment is temporary.” With a wave of her hand, Trixie dismissed the glitter gun and created instead a large cylinder Rarity quickly realized was meant to be a bullet. “Bullets use these. Once the enchantment’s used up, that’s it. It’s gone. Since bullets are themselves largely left where they were sent, there’s not much point in making an enchantment that would outlive their use. These enchantments are easier to make, if also tedious.” Rarity was tempted to ask what any of this had to do with Silver Lining, but held her tongue. She imagined Trixie was going to get to the point eventually. Trixie raised her finger, the ‘bullet’ descending to balance on top of it. She twirled her finger lazily, the bullet rotating in the air with the motions. “The problem with these is that the enchantments are limited in strength. You can only pack so much into such a little package. That’s where an aura battery comes in.” Some of the dust above them coalesced into a large block, a block that also had a round hole. Trixie waved her hand, and the ‘bullet’ floated up and inserted itself neatly into that hole. “Aura batteries are enchanted objects that gradually store magic into themselves and, when put in contact with another enchanted object, have the ability to apply that stored charge to it. So let’s say a bullet would produce ice.” Raising her hand above her head, Trixie manipulated the cloud of dust so that it manifested as another gun. Trixie aimed the glittergun at the table between them and ‘fired’ it. Where the ‘bullet’ impacted, dust formed a small column of what Rarity assumed was meant to be ice. “Effective, but limited output.” The ‘gun’ dissipated, and then the large ‘aura battery’ above their heads shrank down and dropped into Trixie’s waiting hands. She held it forward as if to aim. “But if the bullet fires while in contact with an aura battery…” When the ‘bullet’ was fired this time, the entire table became encased in ‘ice’. So much so that Rarity had to jump back lest some of the stuff land on her. She couldn’t deny that the point was well made. Trixie, beaming with pride, used her thumb to open her pocket. Within seconds, all the shiny bits of dust had flowed like water inside, leaving the room devoid of even a speck. She promptly buttoned the pocket back up, patted it, and gave a bow. Rarity couldn’t help but smile at the display. “Miss Lulamoon,” she declared with confidence, “I believe it is quite possible you missed your calling.” Hands on hips and smirk held high, the mage answered, “Your awe and adulation are duly noted.” Rarity’s short laugh only made the smile broaden. “But getting to the point of that mind-bogglingly astounding display of showmareship – you can stop giggling at any time – do you understand the point of an aura battery now?” “Why, yes. I believe I do.” Rarity took Silver Lining from the board and examined it with fresh eyes. “I had no idea it was so special. So you say the cylinder is itself a battery?” “No.” Trixie’s eyes practically shined with her glee. “I mean each of the five slots is its own, independent aura battery. It’s a brilliant design!” Rarity cocked an eyebrow at the declaration, then pulled an extra cylinder from her ammunition bag. She eyed it carefully, but could not identify anything unusual. The part that actually held the ammunition was one round piece, after all. “What’s the difference?” Trixie’s expression morphed to one of utter bewilderment. “What do you mean, what’s the difference? Isn’t it—” She shook herself, then rubbed her forehead. “Right, right, laypony.” She used her magic to snatch the cylinder from Rarity’s hand, prompting an ignored ‘Hey!’ from her. Displaying the cylinder, Trixie waved to it like a showpony might a prize. “If the entire cylinder were one aura battery, then its charge would be used up as soon as any one enchanted bullet was fired. All the other bullets would lose out on the potential boost. But with your gun, each bullet would have its own independent charge! You put five bullets in at the same time, each would have the same level of charge upon being fired, rather than all of it going to waste on a single bullet.” Snatching the cylinder back with a huff, Rarity promptly stored it and cinched the ammo bag closed. “I would appreciate you asking before taking my things.” Moving back to the conversation at hand, she asked, “And this system in Silver Lining is… unusual?” “More like ‘one of a kind’.” Trixie pressed on without even a hint of an apology. “Guns made to fire enchanted bullets are, by themselves, extremely rare. I’ve only seen two in my life, not including yours, and neither had anywhere near the enchanting sophistication. Bullets themselves are even worse because you can't enchant them in bulk.” She let out a wistful sigh. Were her cheeks turning pink? They were! “This has given me a new standard to aim for. I’d give my tail for the chance to talk shop with the pony who did it.” Rarity stared at Silver Lining. While she lacked the know-how to approach Trixie’s level of technical appreciation, she couldn’t help but feel a renewed affection for her favored sidearm. With perhaps a touch more reverence than was warranted, she set the weapon snugly in its holster and promised herself to give it a good, thorough cleaning at the next opportunity. Don’t worry, Moonlight. I promise I’m taking good care of her. “Now, then.” Trixie made a playful show of fanning herself with a hand and being all aflutter. That came to a hard end when her eyes set hungrily upon the necklace. “Anything else you want me to examine?” Oh, there was that breezie again. Back for an encore, this time with her stomach as a drum set. A powerful impulse arose to deny it and leave now while she still could, but she pushed it back. These feelings were ridiculous! She wasn’t about to let a bunch of silly, completely unjustified emotions get the better of her. Even so, removing the jewelry from around her neck was like trying to move a mountain. It came off, but the moment it did she felt… vulnerable. “P-please,” she whispered before Trixie’s eager hands could snatch it away, “be careful. It was a gift.” “Oh, please. I’m nothing if not professional.” The mage took the necklace with dedicated care, letting out a soft gasp as it settled in the palms of her hands. Pulling it close, she closed her eyes and heaved a heavy, smiling sigh. “Oh, Goddess. It’s the real thing. I n-never thought I’d ever see one, but I can feel the magic. It’s almost like it’s speaking to me.” Rarity felt an eye twitch. Every instinct was screaming at her to snatch the necklace back and, should that fail, prepare to make use of Silver Lining and Ruby Heart. Her every muscle felt enfeebled. Clutching her hands close to her breast, she adamantly refused to act on her impulses. Her voice shook as she muttered, “Please, just tell me what it is.” Trixie opened her eyes, her expression one of pure bliss as she breathlessly declared, “It’s an Element of Harmony.” Oh, that didn’t make things better at all. Rarity stumbled as a bout of weakness came over her, but somehow managed to overcome and remain standing. She recalled everything Spike had claimed and how desperately she’d tried to deny it. “H-how do you know?” “Because I have studied them extensively. I’m… in the market, as it were.” Trixie all but cuddled the necklace, cooing and petting its purple gemstone, before setting it down on the enchanter’s board. “The only artifacts said to contain the magic of not just all ponies, but all creatures of Equus. And now…” With an almost manic look in her eyes, she set her hands on the board. “...I get the chance to study one.” The magenta aura returned, Trixie’s eyes becoming engulfed in the brightness of it. Rarity watched, heart thudding at the irrational fear that something would go wrong. She so desperately wanted to put the necklace back on, but she didn’t dare take it from the enchanter’s table while it was still active. Fears she hadn’t thought about in some time were accumulating in her mind. She wanted the necklace back the necklace was her strength and her namesake and it couldn’t be an Element of Harmony and what if Trixie didn’t give it back and they had to fight over it could she win such a fight she showed earlier with Scootaloo that she could be vicious and what if Scootaloo would be forever tormented by what happened last night and what if she took up gunfighting herself in response which was silly but it could happen because Rarity had already gotten one pony killed with that kind of attention and being related to the Apples would mean meeting Applejack who could be anywhere and she might start courting Rarity and she wasn’t prepared for that level of attention and what if she ended up liking it but how could she like it after everything she’d been through and then she might get killed helping her fight her kin the Bad Apples and oh Goddess this was Manehattan the Bad Apples probably knew she was here and what if they’d already surrounded the Arcaenum and then Lyra might get killed and Trixie would have to defend herself and she’d use those terrible spells again and was Trixie even trustworthy she certainly seemed dangerous she needed to get the Element back where it was safe and she was safe and— “Come on!” The cry tore the onslaught of imagined horrors away and brought Rarity back into the here and now. What she found was Trixie, mane fluttering in a nonexistent breeze and face stuck in a determined grimace. The board and the mage’s eyes shined so brightly that Rarity had to squint against it. “W-what are you—?” “Show me your secrets!” Trixie leaned down, as if the proximity of her glare might make the necklace cooperate. “I won’t be denied! I am capable of knowing. I am worthy of knowing!” Rarity took an alarmed step back, then another as magenta and purple sparks began to flash around the necklace. “Trixie, you need to stop!” “I won’t be denied!” Trixie all but screamed as the aura brightened even further, the dancing sparks tracing up her arms. “I’ve waited my whole life for this. My whole life!” Tears started to streak down her cheeks. “You can’t refuse me. You can’t turn me down. I deserve to—!” In an instant, all the light faded from the board and Trixie’s eyes. Even the sparks came to an end. A second passed as Trixie blinked in speechless confusion. Then, just as quickly, alarm shot through her and she covered her face with her cloak. Then the enchanter’s board exploded. Rarity threw her hands up to protect her eyes, not having a chance to raise a shield. But instead of heat and force and pain, she felt… soothed. Calm. It was almost like a reassuring wind caressing her entire body, even as the air crackled and snapped with angry energy. As the sounds faded, she lowered her arms to find the table shattered and Trixie’s hooves dangling from atop a pile of books. The necklace lay on the floor, seemingly untouched. Rarity moved like lightning, not even aware of her own actions until the necklace was safely secured around her neck. In an instant, she felt as calm and in control as she ever had. Perhaps even more so. She heaved a content sigh and rubbed at the purple, diamond-shaped gem as her little pony seemed to pass out from exhaustion. Then she noticed movement from the mage. That movement consisted of a finger rising up to point at the ceiling. Woozily, the unicorn declared, “Trixie had that coming.” The hand promptly flopped back into hiding. Carefully making her way across the debris, Rarity found the mage disheveled and akimbo, half-covered in fallen books. Trixie’s horn was emitting tiny sparks and motes of magical aura and her eyeballs swiveled as if trying to follow something only she could see. Other than that, she appeared unharmed. Still, just in case, “Dear me. Are you quite alright?” “Oh, yes. Trixie is fine.” She waved dismissively, at last managing to focus her attention on Rarity. Looking contrite, she accepted the hand and stood on wobbly legs. “She probably won’t be using magic for the next twenty-four hours, but if that’s the most the Element did for her admittedly foolish attempt to plunge its secrets by force then she will take it and be grateful.” She noticed her thoroughly destroyed table and sighed. “Here’s hoping she can find that spare spectra chassis before another customer comes along.” Seeing that there appeared to be no more harm to the mare herself, Rarity permitted herself to relax a little. “I hope you got what you were after, because I don’t intend to let you do that again.” “Nor would Trixie try,” the mage agreed, appearing appropriately chagrined. “The Element made it absolutely clear that its secrets are its to keep.” She stumbled to a nearby chair, shoved some scrolls off it, and flopped down with a groan. “That’s one avenue closed.” Her words gave Rarity pause. She looked down at her necklace, uncertain of what to think. She still wanted to deny that something as important as an Element of Harmony had found its way into her hands. Such a thing could only bring her trouble, and she hardly seemed worthy of it anyway. But then again, the idea of parting with it filled her with a dread, the source of which she couldn’t fathom. Why had she been so desperate to get it back a moment ago? She told herself that it was a precious gift from a precious friend that had saved her precious life multiple times. This failed to explain the instinctual, desperate need she’d felt earlier. “Forgive me for prying a little further, but was the gem on it always shaped like that?” Pulled from her thoughts, it took Rarity a moment to realize exactly what Trixie had asked. “Oh, no. Strangely, it was just a white circle when I received it. It became a purple lozenge cut over time.” Trixie nodded, appearing all the more disappointed by the answer. “Then it’s probably already bonded to you. Drat. No way I’m getting my hands on it now.” Curiouser and curiouser. Rarity took care to move aside some books from a second chair, one of a completely different design, then sat down and gave Trixie her full attention. “What do you mean by that?” Noting her genuine interest, the mage laboriously sat up. Her horn had finally stopped sparking by now, though the way she rubbed at her temple suggested an oncoming headache. “I only have speculation from my research, nothing I’d call absolutes. Supposedly, an Element of Harmony ‘bonds’ with its owner. The nature of this is unclear, but one thing all my sources agreed on was that once that bond happens, the only way to break the bond is by the owner’s own actions or… Well. Death.” “My own actions?” Rarity realized she was still rubbing the necklace. Feeling self-conscious and having no idea why, she forced her hand to her lap. “I’m going to suspect that doesn’t mean simply throwing it away.” Not that she had any desire to do so. Far from it. But perhaps if she could get a better picture… “I don’t know?” Trixie eyed the necklace, her earlier eagerness traded for a much more welcome expression of professional curiosity. “I’m really not sure how it works. Hay, I wasn’t even sure they really existed until a few minutes ago. But if I had to guess, I’d say ‘by the owner’s own actions’ means you’d have to do something to become unworthy of its boon.” “I’m not sure what I did to become ‘worthy’ in the first place.” Then Trixie’s last words struck. Rarity glanced down only to realize, again, that her hand had migrated to the gemstone. Grumbling to herself, she forced it back down. “If I asked you what you meant by ‘boon’, would the answer also be ‘I don’t know’?” “More or less.” With an apologetic shrug, Trixie sat back yet again. “Unless it’s done something specific for you, you know as much as I do.” Oh, Rarity most certainly had an idea. She distinctly remembered how the gem behaved back at Elysium Oasis and the sudden, amazing confidence it had given her. Idly she pondered if perhaps it wasn’t doing other things too, more subtle and constant things. She did often tend to feel much calmer when focusing on it. Perhaps it was best not to let Trixie in on that yet. No sense giving it more value to the mage than it already seemed to possess. Which left just one thing to discuss. “I don’t have anything else for you to analyze, and I gather you probably couldn’t do it now anyway. So.” Taking on a prim and proper pose that centered all her attention on Trixie, she asked, “I think it’s time I found out what you wanted from me.” Trixie stared at her for several long seconds, weary eyes uncomprehending. When understanding finally struck, the mage practically leapt out of her seat. She almost face-planted for her trouble, legs still shaky from her recent experience with magic-to-the-face, but wheeling arms and swaying saved her from the ignominy. “Right! That. Let me just—” She winced as her horn shot off a few feeble sparks. “Er, Trixie means, wait here for a moment?” With renewed energy and excitement, she headed for another door. Rarity waited patiently, ignoring the sounds of what was probably more junk being thrown around in search of something. Her attention was elsewhere. Particularly, she was recalling all the things Trixie had done in the past twenty-four hours. The rumors around the mare, the fact that she was under house arrest, even the things she said and how she said them, not to mention her gruesome traps. They were things that bothered her, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. Was this something she should pry into? There was no way to know for sure. Mayhap she should leave it be. Trixie practically fell out of the door, clutching to her chest a scroll almost as tall as she was. Brushing back a loose lock of mane and trying to appear poised, she forced her grip on the scroll to relax and approached. “Right, here we are. What I’m going to— Oh.” She looked at the destroyed table, then at the clutter all around them. Her eyes crossed as she took in her horn. Finally, she sent Rarity a sheepish look. “Do you think you could clear a space on the floor for Trixie?” Allowing herself a moment to silently criticize the otherwise intelligent and capable mage’s lack of organization, Rarity graciously used her magic to push books and a pile of copper vials aside. Trixie wasted no time unrolling the scroll over the freed space. At her suggestion, Rarity moved a few objects around to act as paperweights on the corners. The scroll contained several images, each of a different suit of armor. There were no less than eight of them, each suit of a completely different design. That one had so many spikes Rarity wondered if it wasn’t more a hazard to its wearer than anything. A particularly lovely one incorporated a swirling, swept-back form that reminded Rarity vaguely of rushing water or perhaps wind. Others were bland, but differed from one another in form and heft. They ranged from appearing very light and covering only the most vulnerable parts of the body to being hulking masses of metal. The images were all monochrome, and the only unifying element was that they all had a crescent moon incorporated somewhere in their designs. Curious as this all was, none of it was enlightening. Hands on hips, eyes roving over one of the bulkier designs, Rarity spoke. “And what, exactly, am I looking at?” Trixie, standing opposite from Rarity, was picking at the edges of her cloak again. She spoke with a quiet reverence. “The Nightshade Armor.” Rarity spared her a glance, raised eyebrow included. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” “No, but it means a lot to Trixie.” Seeming to realize what she was doing, the mage let go of her cloak and set her hands behind her back, attempting and failing to appear more confident. “From all the things I’ve read, the armor was completed mere days before Discord arrived in Equestria and fought the princesses.” So it was an artifact, then. That should have been obvious to Rarity from the start; nopony actually made this kind of armor anymore, much less wore it. “Made by whom?” Trixie hesitated. “Princess Luna.” Rarity blinked at that. Why would an alicorn need a set of armor? Weren’t they supposed to be goddesses, immortal and all powerful and such? Rather than voice those questions, Rarity waved her hand at the diagrams. “So which one of these is this oh-so-special armor?” “I…” The mare closed her eyes and heaved a long, unhappy sigh. “Trixie doesn’t know. She compiled these sketches from all sorts of different sources, because nopony can agree on what the thing looked like. To be honest, she’s not confident that a single one of the authors ever actually saw the armor in person.” Rarity felt obliged to raise her eyebrow yet again. “Then how do you know it exists at all?” “It does exist.” Trixie put enough force into the response to clarify that, at the very least, she personally believed it. “I’ve read too much, seen too many hints. The armor is real! And I want it.” Observing the fierce determination in the mage’s expression, Rarity could only feel incredulity. “You want…” She gestured with a palm at the drawings. “...an ancient suit of armor? Why?” Trixie was far too focused on her growing excitement to be bothered by Rarity’s blatant doubt. “It’s not just any suit of armor, it’s the suit of armor! Forged and crafted by Princess Luna herself, said to enhance the wearer’s strength and power to untold heights! Supposedly a normal unicorn could have the power of an alicorn just by wearing the helmet alone. Can you imagine it?” Dark suspicions began drifting into Rarity’s mind. Suddenly, she didn’t care much for the diagrams. No, she was focused more on Trixie herself. “You still haven’t clarified why you want it.” “Because—!” Trixie paused, and Rarity was taken aback; there’d been some genuine anger in that. The mage seemed to be fighting a war with herself, eyes darting about as she mumbled. Her hands clenched into fists over and over again. At last she groaned and said, “Because Trixie wants to be the archmage. And because if she can’t show those idiots on the Cabinet that she deserves the role, she’ll never get there.” So the archmage was a position appointed by the Manehattan Cabinet. Given that Trixie was under house arrest, it would make sense that they’d have some reservations about giving her the job, even if she was the previous archmage’s apprentice. Even so, “But why the armor specifically?” “Because she’ll have it!” Trixie motioned as though she were on a stage and putting something on display. “Behold, I have it! Trixie has the Nightshade Armor. Surely only a mage of great skill and talent would be worthy of owning such a prodigious piece of magical history.” Yet again, Rarity wondered if Trixie shouldn’t have been putting on traveling shows. She certainly had that sense of theatrical flair. That didn’t stop her from being stumped by what she was hearing. “That’s it? A mighty tool of magical power, and you want it for a showpiece?” “Not entirely.” Trixie gained the same kind of unnerving, desirous grin that she’d previously shown Rarity’s necklace – Element, she grimly reminded herself – mere minutes ago. “Princess Luna’s armor isn’t just a lump of metal, it’s enchanted metal. I would have the chance to study the work of a literal goddess!” Her hands rubbed together as she stared with longing at the schematics between them. Rarity couldn’t help checking to see if the mare was drooling. “The things I could learn. I would become the greatest enchanter since before the Day of Burning. My place in history would be assured!” Rarity eyed the mare. She was certainly doing so unnoticed, given how Trixie’s focus was so intent on her ‘bright’ future. In her opinion, it all sounded like a pipe dream. It was apparent where Trixie was going with this, and she questioned if she wanted any part of it. Not just because it sounded like a pygmy leaper chase, either. She’d seen enough seemingly impossible things be real to not dismiss the idea outright. She’d questioned the existence of Elysium Oasis once, and where had that gotten her? To say nothing of the literal magical relic of unknowable origin currently adorning her neck. So for now Rarity would approach this on the assumption that this mythical armor did exist. Which led to the much bigger question: was Trixie worthy to possess it? Which meant it was time to get to the bottom of something. “How did Archmage Fleur de Lis die?” All joy vanished from Trixie in a blink. At first she only gaped at Rarity, seeming uncertain of what had just been asked. That evolved into a hard, teeth-baring glare just as quickly. “What’s the point of the question?” “The point is you, Trixie Lulamoon.” Hand on hip, Rarity bent forward to match the mage glare for glare. “You’re about to ask me to go hunting this all-powerful armor for you. I will do no such thing if I don’t feel you deserve to have it.” Trixie straightened her stance, head tilted back as she bristled. “First of all, Trixie wasn’t going to have to look for it. She was merely going to ask that you keep your ears open during your travels, maybe ask a question or two. There’s no point in Trixie sending you on a quest to hunt down something when she doesn't know where it is. “Second, Trixie resents the implication that she might have anything to do with her teacher’s death!” Rarity was unmoved. “You’re speaking in third person again.” “Trixie’s habits are her own!” “And Rarity is observant enough to recognize that you only speak in third person when you’re nervous.” The mage trembled, fists held at her sides and eyes brimming with unshed tears. It took her several seconds and a few slow, heavy breaths to reply. “Fleur de Lis gave me everything, took me in when nopony else believed in me, picked me up when I was crawling through the trash for scraps. I am not a murderer. Yes, I have an ego. Yes, I have ambitions. That doesn’t make me guilty, and I am tired of everypony in this blasted town assuming that I am!” “Forgive me for touching a nerve,” Rarity countered, not budging from her stare. “But your conduct last night drives me to question things.” Trixie rubbed at her eyes, only breaking visual contact for a brief second. “Is this about the bone growth spell? Because Trixie told you that was an accident. She’d never tried it before, she didn’t know it would get out of hand like that!” “And what about when you sliced those poor ponies’ legs off?” “Why are you hung up on this?” Trixie threw up her hands as she shouted, “Yes, ponies died! Wasn’t that the idea? We were defending ourselves. You shot just as many ponies as Trixie killed with her magic, maybe more, and that’s not even counting everything you’ve done before you met me!” “It’s not the fact that ponies died,” Rarity countered, her firmness clashing with Trixie’s fierceness. “It’s the manner of their deaths. Your methods felt… needlessly cruel.” With a snarl, Trixie shot back a fiery, “That is rich coming from the pony who systematically slaughtered a bunch of bounty hunters outside Hoofington.” When Rarity flinched, the mage gained a wicked smile of triumph. “Oh, yes, other ponies might be spoiled by rumors and hearsay, but Trixie can pick out the truth from the legend. You butchered those ponies for sport. So don’t go acting all high and mighty on me!” Now it was Rarity sucking in a slow, angry breath. Yet she didn’t break eye contact. She wasn’t the weak one here. “I did do things I regret. I do not deny it and I accept the blame. I am trying to be a better pony than I was back then.” She narrowed her eyes. “Would that I could say the same about you, yet you strike me as a particularly vindictive mare.” For whatever reason, Trixie didn’t immediately fire back. For the first time since the argument had begun, she seemed to seriously consider Rarity’s words. With a huff, she finally averted her angry gaze. “Trixie is not a villain. Or a murderer. Last night was the first time she’d ever been in a real fight.” At last, the mage had found something that could take Rarity aback. “Wait, really?” Trixie, still not facing her, stiffly nodded. “But… But you handled it so well. I would have sworn you were a combat veteran.” “Well she wasn’t. She’s not. I—” Trixie was trembling all over again, and this time it clearly wasn’t anger that was the cause. “If you t-tell anypony Trixie admitted this, she’ll… I was afraid. M-maybe I hid it well, but that was honestly the second most terrifying thing to ever happen to her.” The way she was mixing her pronouns lended an odd sort of honesty to the statement. Rarity couldn’t not be sympathetic for the mare. She knew what that had been like, and unlike Trixie, she’d failed to hide that horror in her first fights. If anything, this revelation allowed Rarity to have a certain respect for her. But it didn’t stop her from being wary. “If you don’t mind my asking,” she ventured, “What was the first?” It took a long time for Trixie to answer. So long that Rarity began to expect she’d overstepped. But then Trixie groaned and all but fell back into her chair. “The day Trixie’s teacher died and she realized that everypony would surely blame her for it.” She massaged her temple with both hands as she bitterly added, “Which they did.” Quiet filled the air with uncertain anxiety as Rarity considered the conversation so far. Trixie tucked her legs under her and folded her arms, seeming to close herself in and away from the outside world. She appeared so… cornered, her eyes taking in a nothing that left her visibly worried. Settling in her own chair, Rarity quietly asked, “How did she die?” For a fleeting moment, Trixie appeared ready to lash out. But when she saw Rarity’s soft, earnest stare, she deflated and went right back to her hunched, curled posture, even going so far as to wrap her cloak around herself like a protective blanket. It was some time before she finally spoke, her words quiet enough that Rarity had to keep her ears turned forward to hear clearly. “Miss de Lis was suffering from a headache and asked me to add some sleeping tincture to her meal that night. It was a normal thing, she often got headaches from dealing with the Cabinet. I didn’t think anything of it. Th-then when she didn’t come for our usual daily practices, Trixie… I found her in bed.” Tears welled in her eyes as the trembling returned. “It looked like she’d suffered. She was dead. She was dead and Trixie was the last pony to interact with her and I’d made her meal and given her sleeping tincture and they said I poisoned her. I d-didn’t mean…” Rarity didn’t remember kneeling at the mare’s side, but there she was. Hushing Trixie with gentle coos, she took her hand in her own. “It’s alright. It’s alright, okay?” “No it’s not,” Trixie hissed, tiny pupils locked with Rarity’s gaze even as her body continued to shake. “They think Trixie d-did it. What if I did? I’ve messed up dosages before. Never that badly, but s-still…” “It’s okay.” Rarity offered a reassuring smile, reaching out to brush a lock of pale mane from the mage’s face. “Come now. If they were truly confident that you’d killed her, wouldn’t you already be in jail? You’re here, Trixie. House arrest might not be fun, but I’d say it means they don’t have a real case against you.” The mage sniffed and rubbed at her nose with the edge of her cloak. “Y-you really think so?” Making a valiant effort not to focus on the act of vandalism performed mere inches away, Rarity nodded. “Absolutely.” Trixie considered this, her shivers slowly subsiding. Tentatively, she asked, “Am I a bad pony?” The question was almost childish in its delivery, but Rarity would have to be blind to miss the sincere, desperate hope in those eyes. So she smiled, gave Trixie’s hand a light squeeze, and replied, “You risked a lot to help a little filly find her lost sister. When that filly’s family came under attack, you didn’t hesitate to defend them despite your fears and lack of experience. These are not the actions of a bad pony. Yes, Trixie, I believe you are indeed good.” Rarity still had her reservations. She recalled the sight of that pony with the shredded legs. Her mind vividly replayed the moment when Trixie had encouraged Scootaloo to pull the trigger. But then Trixie offered that fragile, trembling smile that shined with so much appreciation, and Rarity decided to push those reservations aside. This was what the young mare needed, and it was something Rarity was more than willing to provide. Perhaps it would be enough to help Trixie get past these trying times. “There you are!” Octavia was already descending the steps of her family manor, worry fresh across her features and a pair of stoic bodyguards tailing her. “Where in Equestria have you been?” Rarity paused, taken aback by the earnest question. Scratching beneath Ophelia’s frills after the lizard gave her shoulder a nuzzle, she asked, “I’m sorry, you were worried about me?” “I was up all night!” Octavia fretfully examined her, perhaps in search of some grievous injury. “I know you are the Bulletproof Heart, but this is Manehattan. The Bad Apples have eyes all over this town. For all I knew you were stuck in some firefight.” She reached forward to pick at the sleeve of Rarity’s dirtied shirt, then sniffed and grimaced. “Er, and no offense, but you have certainly got the appearance of a mare recently engaged in activities unbecoming of a lady.” “I can’t say I’m surprised.” Rarity began leading Ophelia around the house to the private stables. “Last night proved to be an… experience.” Octavia kept pace, and the guards were kind enough to stay behind Ophelia to grant their privacy. She scowled like she’d just bitten into a lemon before glancing around as if expecting somepony to be listening in. “Was the witch at the center of it?” The distaste in her tone was a firm reminder of Trixie’s poor reputation in this town. Far be it for her to not do her part at least a little. “As a matter of fact, Trixie was a significant help. Her aid in the defense was invaluable.” “The defense?” Octavia abruptly stopped as alarm passed through her features. “Wait, you mean she left her tower? She is not supposed to do that. She is dangerous.” On that, at least, Rarity could thoroughly agree. But… “Octavia, darling, I know you’ve heard things. I know Trixie is in a lot of trouble right now. But I would recommend you check your sources before deciding they are accurate.” They paused before the wide double doors, where a stablecolt happily took Ophelia’s reins. The lizard was understandably popular to anypony lucky enough to tend to her needs. That done, she turned to Octavia. All she saw was doubt. And why shouldn’t Octavia doubt? As respectable and intelligent as the musician was, her perception on this topic was shaped by sources either dishonest or themselves misled. What else did the musician think she knew? For that matter, how much of Rarity’s own awareness was flawed by the twisted and mercurial whims of the rumor mill? Octavia appeared concerned. Not for herself, but certainly for Rarity. “She killed her own mentor. Who was supposedly like a mother to her.” Had she? Rarity rubbed at her necklace – her Element, she corrected herself – and reflected on what she’d seen and heard. If there was anything she’d learned from watching Trixie and Scootaloo and Blow Dry, it was that second chances were sometimes warranted. Perhaps this way she could help Trixie get hers. “Trixie made mistakes,” she answered at last. “Killing her teacher may or may not be one of them. Whatever she’s done, I can tell you with confidence that she’s not a villain. She is struggling, she is misunderstood, and she has an entire city set against her.” Then, with a touch of exasperation, “And she’s not very good at defending herself, the poor thing.” Octavia scoffed, already turning to lead them to a side entrance of the manor. “Maybe if the ‘Great and Powerful’ Trixie stopped talking in the ‘Great and Powerful’ third person…” Rarity couldn’t resist a chuckle at that. “I don’t know. I rather like that about her. “Far be it for me to tell somepony else to tone down their ego.”