There are very few instances where the world collectively holds still. There are times when a great tragedy rocks the world; like when National-Terrorist Tirek announced his return by unleashing a torrent of magic in the center of a busy town. While nobody was harmed or worse, the damage and sheer terror it instilled shook Equestria at large. At times, a grand, historical moment centuries in the making finally occurs, and the world collectively cheers. Such a time being when Princess Celestia announced the long-awaited return of her sister from parts-unknown. The world was aflutter with cheer, tears, merrymaking at the news for months. Debatably, they still celebrate considering what a smoke-show the new princess turned out to be.
But one instance of history decimated those paltry moments of minor significance. It downright made them look like page four stories in the newspaper; tucked away at the corner and relegated to a two-paragraph blurb. A moment so grandiose, news networks all across Equestria and beyond cut to it as it was in progress. A snapshot of history so momentous, there were whispers it would be a national holiday by week's end. The world stopped, holdings its breath like never when the press-release of the century hit the airways.
The day Countess Coloratura announced her secret two-year romance with Trixie Lulamoon.
"Will you date me, Miss Lulamoon?"
Ringing. Ringing and the thunderous stampede of a heartbeat rumbling in her ears—dull, numb, but impossible to ignore—was all Trixie could hear. She felt her skin burn from the tip of her nose and down across her chest as her throat felt both hollow and stuffed with cotton at the same time. She was a wash of contradictions, and she couldn't even tell how that made her feel. Was this really happening?
Did Coloratura really...? Well, who could blame her? And it wasn't like Trixie thought the lyricist wasn't pretty. But... Trixie's fingers flexed against her pattering heart, trying to squeeze sense into it so she could at least breath for a second. When she finally did manage to pump a fleeting gasp of air into her burning lungs, she stared headlong into Rara's eyes, meeting her still blissful, bright smile.
"D-Do you want to run that by me again?"
"Will you date me, Miss Lulamoon?" Rara repeated herself like it was nothing. It was so easy and so naturally flew from her lips like she was asking for the wine to be passed. But there was no wine to be passed. If there was, Trixie would have forgone her flute and just start mainlining from the cask. Maybe that would have stopped the flushing, or at least give it a plausible excuse beyond the obvious. "It's perfect, Trixie!"
They were perfect? Surely this girl was trying to blow a gasket out of the illusionist! And she was well on her way to make smoke and steam start billowing out of the sapphire ears of the stunned actress. "I was thinking about what you said... And it hit me!" Rara's joy was palpable as she clapped her hands, as if she was trying to summon some thought-board that Trixie was meant to see. Beyond the fact Trixie was just seeing her entire life flash before her eyes in a waking coma, Rara was not so gifted as to be a unicorn; make-believe was all she had. "You don't want people badgering you about your relationships, and I don't want people badgering me about my relationships. But we both know that's not going to just happen. So... How do we solve it?"
Rara was talking to a rock. A rock filled with molten slag bound to burst any moment. Though Rara paid it no mind, or perhaps she simply didn't grasp the heart racing state she left Trixie in. I mean, it was Trixie after all. She never cracked under pressure, so surely a playful little question wouldn't leave her catatonic or questioning her entire life choices up to that point. "What if we pretended we were a couple?"
A switch flicked in Trixie at that magical word. A word crafted by her ilk to dominate the world of screen and stage: pretend. Her ears flicked to attention as beads of her blush faded away with each passing word. "We announce we've been a couple for a while now..."
"We've been seen together quite often enough..." Trixie joined on the train of thought, already clicking into place for this masterful scheme.
"...And we simply wished to preserve our privacy..." Rara rolled on with her scheme with Trixie nodding along with a most devious smirk coming together.
"Yet now we realize our fans deserve the truth..." The flute of wine found its way back into Trixie's hand for her to sip from, now fully indulged in this grand design.
The tingling joy Rara radiated brought the cream of her coat to almost prick as she vibrated in her seat. She never did anything so devious, but she was excited to have Trixie's clear vote of confidence in this. If there was anyone the songstress could trust to reliably pull off a masterstroke of an 'illusion', it would be The Great and Powerful Trixie. It was like competing on a cooking show and being partnered with renowned pâtissier Pinkie Pie. It almost felt like cheating... And if so, then maybe Rara should cheat more often, because it felt intoxicating!
"The audience will get their closure, the paparazzi will get their scoop, and no interviewer will ever be able to catch us with that question again..."
"Meanwhile..." Trixie swirled her backwashed wine between her fingers akin to some diabolic villain, "We'll be free to privately continue pursuing our romantic interests unabated..." And there was the prestige of the plan. It was the most common trick in an illusionist's arsenal—even the most petty of street magicians wielded it with ease: the misdirect. It took on many different forms depending on the performer, but the basic formula remained the same. You keep the audience's attention on the trick itself, so they never notice what the hands are doing. The ball was never under the cup, it was always up the sleeve. They watched the deck shuffle so meticulously, that they never saw the assistant slip behind them to plant the ace in their pocket. Trixie learned it all before she could crawl...
"Or, just be free of the questions. That's a good enough reason too," Rara added, which Trixie hurriedly nodded along to. They weren't looking for partners or anything, after all. It would be enough to just not be bothered, obviously.
"It's downright devious, Coloratura. I'm surprised I hadn't devised it myself," a slip of wine passed against Trixie's lips as she considered the plan, "However... This will no doubt draw a different sort of attention to us," the questions would stop, but the hunt for them out and about together on dates would be the new hit-piece for every vulture with a camera.
"Right... I did think about that..." Rara curled against the sofa, pulling her legs loose against her chest, "But I feel like that'll be far more manageable than the badgering. I mean, it'll be a little much for a few weeks, and there may be a few lingering photographers a while after..."
"But... Once they get their pound of flesh, they'll get tired and move on," Trixie rounded off the thought, given a nod from Rara.
It was true enough. Once these pesky little gnats drew their blood, they'd move on to a new, more tantalizing target. A few candid shots of the two out on a date, some late-night images of Trixie lounging in Rara's home, maybe a snap of Rara sitting in private seating at one of Trixie's shows; it'll go on for weeks, maybe a month or two. But with the secret out, the well will become old news, and the excitement will simmer. Eventually, it won't even be printable on a second-hand rag magazine.
A few months of bother seemed a lot better than an eternity of snooping and probing questions into their personal lives.
"Countess Coloratura... I would love to date you..." Rara smirked a playful look at Trixie's flourish of a response, seeing her bow like some posh prince with wine delicate to balance in their hand.
"Perfect! But..." Rara raised an objecting finger, letting it tap at the tip of her muzzle as she considered their next step, "Before we make any sort of announcement... We should probably do a little prep-work about how we should play our parts in public..."
A feat of masterful misdirect was now introducing the artistry of acting. Trixie was loving this plot more and more with each passing moment. A good charade called for poise, perfect, and most important of all: practice. You had to study your role down to the letter to really know how to do it. That's why Trixie's one-woman performance of "Les Misérables" was so well regarded. That and her use of magic to make a dozen copies of herself to fill the stage. If you asked Trixie, however, the magic was a means to an end; it was the magika of her performance that truly sold it!
"First, when we're 'dating', you should probably not call me Countess or Coloratura," Trixie was literally the only person Rara never corrected when she said that name. In a way, it grounded her in some small part. It was the name she had when she met Trixie, and it remained a part of who she was even if her fans moved away from it. Also... It just sounded charming the way the bombastic illusionist said it. It wasn't to praise her, it wasn't to collar her to her work, it was just her name when Trixie said it. In a way, it was oddly comforting.
But only Trixie could say it. Because nobody said it like Trixie.
"I see... A fair point. I've seen how your fans sic themselves upon fools who say otherwise..." Trixie saw the last show, she knew how things went outside of their private little meetings, "Very well... Rara."
It was just a single block of text backdropped by white on some social media platform. Questri, Maresplace, Neighersayer; nobody could really remember the exact site it was. Because not a second later, the news was spread across every space of the internet and being announced over every airway. The original post was copied by fan-accounts and bots across every platform like a roaring inferno. In moments it was trending wherever a hashtag could be found.
A text with a simple picture linked just beneath it.
"Just a quiet night in with my girlfriend Trixie Lulamoon. #Rara #Trixielulamoon #<3"
Trixie was all smiles, winking to the waiting audience with mirth and cheer; not letting on how masterful this scheme was about to go off. Her arm wrapped around the woman who posted it, who's expression was something not wholly there with the plan. Cheeks flushed a delicate pink beneath cream, and opal eyes were wide as saucers and brilliant with a luster as the picture was taken. The world devoured the endearing picture of two lovers enjoying one another's company.
They saw a cocksure Trixie proud of her 'catch', and a flustered Rara embarrassed to be 'shown off'. It was everything the silent shippers had thought it could look like. Unbeknownst to them, the picture was taken under a far different context.
Trixie Lulamoon, riding the high of their scheme coming to play.
Rara, her heart fluttering out of her control after hearing the way 'Rara' rolled off Trixie's lips.