I have no clear idea why, but Lyra’s question hit me like a sack of bricks. The very seriousness of it, the implication that I might lie about what happened to me when I got home, all smote me like an arrow, as those orange eyes bored into mine.
There was more to it, too. The suggestion of returning and concealing my involvement in this world, for whatever reason, gave me the impression of a kind of pressure in the back of my head, like something trying to surface from dirt. I felt as if this situation was somehow familiar to me. Not exactly the same wording, but something similar in context. It was like I was surrounded by a sea of eyes, silently judging me, waiting for an explanation to something I had not the faintest idea about.
“We’re waiting, Dave,” said Lyra, firmly.
“Lyra,” said Twilight, “is this necessary?”
“I have to know, Twilight. I want to be sure.”
“Sure of what?”
“That if we didn’t think humans existed, then they should at least know we do.”
“Lyra, now you’re just being ridiculous,” said Twilight, exasperated.
“I…” I began. “I, er…”
“Don’t hesitate,” said Lyra, pointedly. “The truth.”
“Well, the thing is…”
“Come on, all I want is your honest answer.”
“Lyra, stop it!” said Twilight. “You’re scaring him to death!”
“It’s a simple question, Twilight: is he going to be honest about being brought to Equestria and back, or is he going to act like it never happened?”
“But you’re petrifying the poor man! Look at him!”
Why was I having such a feeling? My chest felt constricted, my forehead was cold with sweat, and my hands felt clammy. It was as if I were anticipating the results of a difficult exam, but the pressure in the back of my mind and Lyra’s belligerent badgering were making it much worse.
Lyra continued to stare me down, but her tone became softer.
“Dave, you know I’m not trying to be mean to you. You’re my friend, and I like you, but you can’t just go back home and act like you were just having a big dream. Would that be any way to treat the friends you made here?”
That did it. The sincerity in her voice broke me even more than her sharpness. I buried my face in my hands, though I wasn't quite crying just yet. I felt a hoof across my back, and felt Lyra lean against me consolingly. Vaguely, I heard Twilight ask Spike to go upstairs with the papers.
“You want me to be completely honest?” I finally said.
“Yes.”
“Then, just hear me out.”
“I’m listening.”
I took a deep, steadying breath, then said,
“I’ve only been here for five days, at least. I’ve had a few escapades, and I’m sure to have more before my time in this world is up. Of course, something like this, being thrust into a whole new world, would warrant telling people. But you have to understand. I live in a world and time where proclaiming such fantastic things could very well land me in an asylum, if I wasn’t publicly touted as a heretic or something before that.
"Believe me, Lyra, I would happily tell my fellow people what a wonderful society you all live in, but what merit of credibility is there in telling a bunch of strangers that I was whisked off to a land full of talking equines? So, at the present, no, I don’t think I could handle telling huge crowds about it, but among close friends that I trust, at the very least, I would most certainly tell them the truth, the truth of my visit to Equestria. Does that answer your question, Miss Heartstrings?”
Lyra looked at me intently, sympathy in her eyes, and nodded.
“Yes, Dave, it does. At least, I’m glad you’d tell someone you trusted. I can understand not wanting to excite a bunch of strangers. Now I feel bad for being so strict with you.”
Her ears flattened as she said this, looking regretful.
“It’s all right, Lyra," I said. "I don’t hate you for it. How could I ever hate any of you? You’ve all been so wonderful to me in so short a time already. Who knows what the future will hold in that respect? At the very least, I’m glad I could accommodate your wishes, and answer your queries on humanity.”
Lyra's eyes brimmed with happy tears.
“Thank you so much, Dave,” she said, gratefully. “I’m never gonna forget this, ever. You’ve made me a happy mare today. You proved I wasn’t just being crazy.”
“I’ll admit," I said, "I kinda thought you were a little nutty when you first tackled me down and tried to ask me point-blank-”
Lyra’s cheeks colored.
“But since when does craziness have to be a bad thing?" I asked, grinning. "You’ve got a lot of love to give, Lyra, and I’m honored that you would consider me a friend.”
Without further ceremony, she flung her hooves around my neck, and I hugged her as she nuzzled my cheek. Looking up, I saw that Twilight was regarding us with a warm, touched smile, and I returned it with a smile of my own. After the scare I’d received from Lyra’s question, I was in a wonderful mood, knowing I’d answered her questions of the human world and given Twilight something to send to the Princess.
Lyra finally pulled away to ask,
“Even if this all started because of me wanting to know about your world, will we still get to hang out?”
“Of course!" I said. "It’d be shallow of me to end it off because of that. I’ll stop by and visit sometimes. I could even listen to some of your music.”
Lyra’s face split into a gleeful grin.
“Great! I can’t wait! I should be off, now. Bonnie wanted me to help her think of treat ideas for Nightmare Night after we’d finished here, so I’ll see you two later.”
“Goodbye, Lyra,” said Twilight. “You’re welcome back anytime. Don’t be shy.”
“I won’t, Twilight, thank you. Take care, you two!”
With that, Lyra got up and headed out the library door.
“That girl’s almost as unfathomable as Pinkie,” I said. “She’s so chipper, but she has a remarkable capacity for seriousness.”
“That’s plain to see,” agreed Twilight.
“So, now that we’re alone,” I went on, “I have a couple, slightly more personal questions to ask of you.”
“Oh? How personal are we talking?” asked Twilight.
“Nothing too personal," I assured her. "I just want to make sure of a few things.”
“Well, all right, I’ll see what I can do.”
“As Princess Celestia’s student, were you familiar with members of her court?”
“Oh, of course!" said Twilight. "Shining Armor was a captain, after all, so I was on good terms with the Princess’s guards. I also knew some of her advisers and ministers.”
“Her ministers, good," I said, nodding. "Well, in that case, did you happen to know a Minister Ironmane?”
“Ironmane? Certainly!” she said, eagerly.
“What’s your opinion of him, then?”
“Oh, he’s very sharp. Perhaps not very social, but sharp, efficient, talented at what he does. ”
“And what does he do, exactly? All I know is he’s the Minister of Foreign Affairs.”
“Well, when the Princess receives note of someone or something not native to Equestria, it’s his job to intercept it, oversee its activities, and ensure that it isn’t a threat to the country. The doings of non-Equestrians within Equestrian borders, as well as inter-Equestrian affairs, are within his jurisdiction. When I was a filly, I’d sometimes ask him about some of the interesting creatures he dealt with.”
“So, he’s always been kind to you?” I asked.
“Well, more courteous than kind," said Twilight. "He's one of those ponies who doesn't like emotions interfering with his work, but he was never rude towards me. He even told me he was once a guard, and fought for Princess Celestia in a great battle years ago."
She paused, and gave me a quizzical look.
"Why are you asking about him? Have you met him?”
“Yes," I said. "I am a foreigner, after all.”
“Oh, right. What was your impression of him?”
“Well…”
What was to I do? Should I tell Twilight the truth, that he had been cold and condescending towards me, or would she just pass it off? At the very least, I resolved not to mention Scootaloo’s involvement in our disagreements.
“He certainly is good at what he does,” I said, “if what he does is needling you like a prosecutor.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” said Twilight, sympathetically. “He’s dealt with a lot of unruly creatures in his days, so he’s sort of adopted a ‘no-nonsense’ approach. Don’t take it too personally, though.”
“I wouldn’t, if he bothered to stay civil with me,” I muttered. “He hasn’t even bothered to learn my name. All he does is call me ‘human’, like that’s all I am to him.”
“You just aren’t familiar with how he operates,” said Twilight. “He’s rough around the edges, but he’s never mean-spirited about it. He’s only doing his job, for the protection of the country.”
“I suppose," I conceded. "I guess it never feels the same way for the subject of the treatment.”
“Don’t let it bother you,” said Twilight. “It probably stung a bit, but he usually backs off once he’s satisfied.”
She had a point. In a way, Ironmane did back off by returning to Canterlot, and he did say he was impressed with how I handled Scootaloo’s adoption. Was he actually genuinely impressed with me for once? It was too early to say.
“Let’s move on, then,” I finally said.
I was tempted to tell her about Trixie’s return, but I decided against it. It seemed like a stone best left unturned.
“I really just have one more question, Twilight, but it’s a bit of a biggie.”
“Fire away.”
I took a deep breath, and asked,
“Do you know of a spell that would allow me to look into my Earth dimension?”
The words tumbled out in a hurry, so anxious was I to get them out. I was worried Twilight would ask for a repeat, but she seemed to have perceived what I’d asked, and blinked at me in surprise.
“A dimensional viewing spell?” she asked.
“Y-Yeah, something like that.”
“Well, goodness, I’d never bothered to look before, but I’m sure there must be one somewhere. Maybe there’s something in the Archives.”
“I mean, I don’t want to give you more work than you have-” I said, apologetically.
“No-no-no, it won’t be any trouble," said Twilight. "I’ll just ask Princess Celestia if there’s any related material.”
“Thank you, Twilight. Again, I don’t want you to go to too much trouble-”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s the least I can do for your help today. You have no idea how grateful I am for your deciding to do this.”
A tender smile came into her face as she said this, gratitude shining in those keen eyes of hers. The effect was quite adorable.
“Oh, well, really, Twi, it was no big deal," I mumbled. "I’m just happy to help.”
(Confound you ponies, it should be illegal to be so cute.)
“I’ll certainly come visit again soon,” I continued, getting up and approaching her. “I don’t want you to think I only started seeing you because of the Q&A.”
“Oh, no, not at all!" said Twilight. "You’re welcome anytime. Don’t be shy to pop in.”
“Take care, Twi.”
“You too.”
I held out my hand, and she placed her hoof in it, allowing me to give it a warm shake. A little formal, perhaps, but she didn’t seem to mind. She just gazed up at me with those big, beautiful amethyst eyes of hers, gratitude and kindness radiating from them, creating an absolutely heartwarming effect when coupled with her little smile. At last, I stood up and headed for the door, lest her pony cuteness overwhelm me.
And that’s when I remembered.
“Oh! Twilight, one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“You haven’t discovered a spell that can turn ponies into trees, have you?”
Twilight blinked in puzzlement at such an odd question.
“I certainly know several transfiguration spells, but ‘pony to tree’ isn’t one of them," she said.
“Good. Pinkie wanted to be sure, in case Fluttershy gets any ideas.”
It took a moment for this response to register, before Twilight let out a prolonged “Ohhh” of comprehension, then she chuckled and rolled her eyes skyward.
“Typical Pinkie,” she said.
“I know, right? Well, I’ll see you later, Twi.”
“Take care, Dave!”
And I shut the door behind me, feeling that two missions had been accomplished simultaneously.
***
“Forget arthritis,” I muttered as I went, “I’ll be lucky if I don’t contract diabetes from all these adorable equines. Those smiles could cure cancer.”
(Smiles that cure cancer, but cause diabetes. What a medical paradox.
These thoughts were interrupted as I found I’d wandered back to Sugarcube Corner. Immediately, I wondered if Pinkie had recovered from her scare that morning, and went inside. There were a few ponies seated and enjoying their purchases. I looked about, but saw no sign of my pink friend.
“Oh! Is that you, Dave?” came Mrs. Cake’s voice through the kitchen door.
“Yes, Mrs. Cake," I answered. "Do you need a hand?”
“That’d be wonderful, thank you. It’ll only take a second.”
I entered the kitchen, and found Mrs. Cake, a potholder in her teeth, gripping one end of an enormous tray of cinnamon rolls which was sitting on the counter. Taking the hint, I picked up another potholder and grabbed the other end. Carefully, the two of us lifted the tray up, out the door, and onto the front counter.
“Thank you, dearie,” said Mrs. Cake, taking the potholder from her mouth. “Normally I’d ask Pinkie, but she hasn’t been herself today.”
“Oh," I said, my heart sinking a bit. "She’s still gloomy?”
“I’m afraid so. She’s been holed up in her room all day, ever since you left. Carrot and I decided it’s better not to disturb her.”
“I’d best not either, then," I said. "Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“That’s all right, Dave. We should be fine. Everything usually slows down by the middle of the afternoon. There is something that was delivered for you, though.”
“Really? From who?”
“Sparkler Hooves.”
“Sparkler?”
Mrs. Cake directed me back into the kitchen, where I saw a covered basket sitting off to the side. Sitting next to it was a letter addressed to me. Puzzled, I opened the letter first, which read:
“Dear Dave,
Words can’t express our gratitude towards you. Scootaloo’s starting off a little awkwardly, since she’s never been given such attention before. She did show a little reluctance at having a scheduled bedtime and having to eat her veggies at dinner, but I’m confident she’ll come around soon enough. She was very eager to learn how to fly, so I told her I’d start giving her lessons on Sundays, since there’s no postal work to be done. You should have seen the smile on her face, Dave. It was adorable.
Dinky’s taken a real shine to her, tagging along with her everywhere. In fact, I overheard Scootaloo say that, the next chance she got, she’d see Sweetie Belle about making another Crusaders cape. Oh, Dinks just lit up like a Hearth’s Warming tree when she heard that. I think those two are going to get along just fine.
Anyway, I decided to send you a little something, via Sparkler, as my way of saying thank you for all that you’ve done. Don’t feel obligated to eat them all; spread them around to those who need them. You never know how far one will take you.
Best wishes,
Derpy Hooves”
I had a suspicion of what was inside almost immediately after reading the last paragraph. Sure enough, as I pulled away the basket covering, I saw that it was filled to the brim with homemade muffins, chocolate chip and blueberry. I couldn’t suppress a smile at this obvious, but sweet, gesture on part of the bubble-marked mail mare. Her last words, meanwhile, had very much interested me.
“Spread them around to those who need them. You never know how far one will take you.”
I believed that I did, in fact, know a pony in desperate need of a good muffin. But first thing’s first: I set aside some for Pinkie, leaving a note for her, and then, recovering the basket, I headed out of the kitchen.
“Off again, Dave?” asked Mrs. Cake.
“Yes, ma’am," I said. "There’s somepony I need to see, somepony who I think will appreciate what’s in this basket just as much as I do.”
***
For the third time, I knocked at the door of Trixie’s caravan.
The first two times, there had been no response. All was quiet from within. Chances were she was either at home and avoiding visitors, or she was out and I was making my knuckles sore over nothing.
Finally, there came a resigned sigh, and the top half of the door opened. Trixie’s head poked out, bearing a disgruntled expression, though it softened somewhat upon spying me.
“Oh, it’s just you,” she said. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
(That’s odd, she’s not referring to herself in the third person. Maybe she doesn’t need to make herself sound so grand when she doesn’t have a big audience.)
“Hello, Trixie. How are you?”
Trixie raised an eyebrow, as if to ask ‘What do you think?'
“Yeah, that was probably a stupid thing to ask," I said, sheepishly. "Well, I was wondering if I could come in. I have something that might interest you.”
“Unless it’s a revocation of Twilight Sparkle’s magic school degree, I’m sure you’re wasting your time,” said Trixie, turning her nose up loftily.
(At least she didn’t say her head.)
I pulled away the cover to reveal the remaining muffins. Trixie’s purple eyes fixed themselves on the confections, her large irises quivering and filled with an expression of hunger. However, next second, she shut her eyes and shook her head, as if the muffins were casting a spell she was desperate to ward off.
“You think you can buy an audience with me with mere muffins?” she scoffed, head turned to the side. “I told you, I’m on a diet.”
“Aw, who doesn’t like muffins?” I asked. “Baked with love, chocolate chips, and blueberries.”
“Chocolate chips?” asked Trixie, opening one eye to gaze at the muffins again.
“Yeah," I said, grinning. "Me, I love chocolate.”
“Oh, me too!” said Trixie, in an excited voice that was nothing like her haughty tones.
However, like before, she seemed ashamed of having let herself get carried away, as her cerulean cheeks became tinged with red, and she averted her eyes. It wasn’t like I was trying to bribe her. I was just under the impression that even she couldn’t stay shut up away from the world after an invitation of kindness.
“Well, I suppose you can come in, since you went to all the trouble,” she finally said. “If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s loiterers.”
She opened the door all the way, allowing me to step inside. It was relatively unchanged since yesterday, but the covers of the bunk were disturbed, as if Trixie had been in bed when I came to call. I guess she didn’t have much to do, out here in a hidden enclosure.
The two of us seated ourselves on said bunk, and I placed the muffins between us. She gazed longingly at the basket, until she saw me watching her, whereupon she turned her head again.
“Come on,” I said, “there’s no need to be so uptight. Let loose a little. It’s not like I’m gonna blab how the Great and Powerful Trixie like muffins. Although, it might improve your image, show them you enjoy the same things as your fans.”
“Improve my image?” Trixie snorted. “What are you, my PR director?”
To my relief, however, her horn began to glow, and she levitated a fresh chocolate chip muffin from the basket. I took one myself. Tentatively, she took a bite, chewing contemplatively before her eyes expanded in delight.
“Oh, Celestia, that’s delicious,” she murmured, swallowing her mouthful before taking another bite.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I dug into mine as well. As Trixie said, it was very tasty. For a pony obsessed with muffins, Derpy really knew how to bake them.
Trixie had finished hers off, and seemed to be undecided as to whether or not she should take another.
“Relax, help yourself,” I said. “I brought them for us to split.”
“Well, all right, if you approve, I suppose one or two more can’t hurt," said Trixie, before she added, warningly, "but if these go to my flanks, I’m blaming you for indulging me.”
“Duly noted,” I said, with a roll of the eyes.
Not noticing my eye roll, Trixie levitated another muffin and bit into it hungrily. We sat and ate for quite some time in silence. Occasionally, Trixie would glance up at me, but as soon as I met her eye, she looked away again.
Several muffins later, Trixie sat back, looking much better than when I’d first seen her. Her ribs didn’t seem as pronounced, and her face seemed fresher.
“I must say,” she said, patting her stomach, “I never expected those muffins to be so splendid. Did you bake them yourself?”
“I’m afraid not. Baking’s not my shtick.”
“Was it your pink friend, then?”
“Actually, no. These were from-”
“That reminds me,” interrupted Trixie. “Where is your friend, the pink one that doesn’t shut up?”
“I didn’t think you’d want to see her again," I said. "Besides, I don’t imagine she would have come.”
“Well, you’re right on that," said Trixie, bluntly. "If I had to hear any more gab from that porky pony’s mouth, I would have gladly stuffed my hat into it.”
“Hey, now, she’s not that bad," I said, slightly defensively. "Sure, she’s talkative, but she’s very sweet.”
“I’ll take your word on it,” said Trixie, in a offhand voice.
“You could at least give her a chance instead of shutting her out completely.”
“What do you think I tried to do the last time I was here?" Trixie snapped. "I gave them the chance to prove that I wasn’t the best unicorn in all of Equestria, but they paled in comparison to my magical prowess!”
Her old haughtiness had returned, as she drew herself up and puffed out her chest with pride.
“That’s not quite how I would have ‘given them a chance’, Miss Lulamoon.”
Almost as soon as those words slipped past my lips, I knew I’d made a flub. Trixie’s entire demeanor evaporated, and her eyes fixed a gaze upon me that would have melted stone.
“What did you just call me?” she asked, in a low and dangerous voice.
“N-Now, wait a minute,” I said, nervously. “Let me explain-”
“Where did you hear it!? Who told you?!” shouted Trixie in a voice of thunder, putting her hooves to my chest and leaning in until we were nose-to-nose, her furious purple eyes locked onto mine.
“It’s on your wall,” I said, in a meek whisper, quailing beneath her anger, “on that diploma.”
Her eyes flitted to the diploma I had noticed the last time I was there, bearing the name ‘Beatrix Lulamoon’. A frustrated sigh escaped the stage magician.
“How did I forget that was up there?” she grumbled. “Then again, I never expected company in the first place. But listen, you!” she went on, her horn pressed against my temple. “You breathe one word of this to anyone, and so help me, I will turn you into a toad and throw you to a hydra!”
I gulped, even though I wasn’t sure just how far she was capable of carrying out her threat.
“Is it really that big a deal?” I managed to ask, in a weak voice.
Trixie growled, and I could feel an unpleasant warmth emanating from her horn.
“I think it’s a nice name,” I went on, though I felt as if I was only digging myself in deeper. “Lulamoon has a sweet ring to it.”
“It’s the name of a pony who no longer exists,” Trixie said, icily.
(What?…Oh, wait a minute…)
“Ohh," I said, comprehension dawning on me. "I see how it is. I never thought you’d be one of those.”
“One of what?” asked Trixie, sharply.
“You know, one of those persons who takes on a new name and leaves their old name and past behind them. ‘The blah-de-blah you once knew is no more, now I’m blah-de-dee’…”
Trixie blinked.
“You’re surprisingly well-versed on this,” she said.
“I’ve seen a lot of action movies, tends to be a running theme,” I said, with a shrug.
Finally, Trixie removed her horn from my forehead, still scowling at me.
“Well, you’re right," she said. "The pony known as Beatrix Lulamoon no longer exists. There is only…the Great and Powerful Trixie!”
She said it with excessive grandeur, trilling the R’s of “Great” and “Trixie”.
“Why, though?” I asked.
“What?”
“Why bother to change your name? What could possibly warrant you shedding your past?” I asked.
Trixie's scowl became even icier.
“You’re very nosy, you know that?” she asked.
“It’s not nosiness, it’s curiosity!” I retorted, sighing in frustration. “Why does no one ever see that there’s a difference between the two?”
“You expect me to divulge my past to someone I barely even know?” Trixie scoffed.
“It would at least shed some light on how you came to be who you are, why you have such animosity towards Twilight-”
“Who said this had anything to do with Twilight Sparkle?!” snapped Trixie.
“Eep!” I recoiled back. “Er, maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say.”
“Just who do you think you are,” asked Trixie, “meddling in affairs of ponies you don’t even know? What gives you the right to go poking your beak of a nose into everypony’s business?”
“Beak of a nose?" I repeated, stung. "Now, just a minute!”
"Although," Trixie said, her gaze becoming more searching, "I am a little curious about you as well. How did you arrive in Ponyville, by the way?”
Huh? Why the change in subject?
“I don't really know," I said. "I woke up outside it, with no idea how I got there from my own world.”
"Your own world?"
Trixie looked at me for a long time, without a word, then shook her head sympathetically.
"You poor soul. You probably haven't even realized.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused. "Realized what?"
“You’re trying to find a way home, are you not?”
“Well, yeah, but-”
“And once you get home, you’ll have no other means of returning to Ponyville, correct?”
What was she driving at?...
“Well, I...I mean, I never really considered-"
“So what are the odds of this happening a second time?” asked Trixie. "What are the odds that you'd be able to come back, and see the friends you made here ever again?"
...
…Oh my God…
My face must have told what I was thinking, as Trixie went on,
“I see you comprehend what I mean. You arrived in our world by chance. You have no guarantee that that chance will ever happen again. All that you’re doing by ‘making friends’ among us is setting yourself up for pain, heartache, and insufferable memories, because you know, deep in your heart, that you most likely will never see them again once you return home.”
She paused, then said, in a tamer tone,
“When you’ve spent a life moving from one spot to the next, you learn never to keep attachments. You see them for a day, think you’ve hit it off, and then all of a sudden, it’s time to move on. If by chance you do see them again, they’re never the same as when you left them. That’s why those like you and I are better off alone. You have no business, no reason to immerse yourself in a world that’s only temporary to you. All you’re doing is asking for regret.”
I felt numb all over. I thought Lyra’s question had put me out of sorts, but now I had this new meteoric impact to my senses. Bitter as her words were, I couldn't refute Trixie's logic: I had no guarantee that I would ever see Equestria again once I came home. The thought had never come to me before, never been brought up. Was I just making it harder for me for when I did finally return home? All the friends I'd made since I arrived…Was my friendship with them meaningless if I would never see them again?
I had half-expected Trixie to feel proud with herself for screwing with my mind, but there was no smile on her face. There was, instead, something like pity, as if she hadn’t intended to pain me like this.
“I meant all of what I said, but to warn you, not spite you," she said. "I know your position, and it’s not favorable. I am grateful for the muffins, however, so thank you for that.”
“…Right.”
Stiffly, I picked up the basket, put the cover back over it, stood up, and stumbled out of the caravan, feeling numb and sick at the same time, the urge to break down into tears and throw up simultaneously surging within me. I barely heard the door softly closing behind me as I staggered away.
I didn't stop or see anyone all the way back to Sugarcube Corner. I must've passed at least some ponies, but I didn't notice, nor did I care. Trixie's words still rang in my head as I stumbled up the stairs inside, into my and Pinkie's bedroom, and collapsed onto my bed, finally giving myself up to my turbulent emotions.