Last Dance
“Another shot,” the Great and Powerful Trixie orders, sitting at the bar and glaring at the bartender from under her hat.
“Haven’t you had enough? Aren’t you supposed to be performing soon?” The bartender asks, a note of concern in her voice.
Trixie huffs, rolling her eyes. “The Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t tell you how to do your job, so don’t presume to tell her how to do hers. She didn’t ask you for an update on her current level of inebriation; she asked you for another shot. Now will you get it for her or does she have to crawl over the counter and get it herself?”
The bartender, sufficiently cowed, hurries about getting Trixie her drink.
The sky blow unicorn sinks in her chair. That usually would have made her feel better. This whole situation stinks. She never should have taken this job. But it’s in Canterlot! And it’s a royal wedding! How could she turn down prestige of that magnitude? Of course, she hadn’t known at the time that the groom was Twilight Sparkle’s brother, Shining Armor. If one more pony comes up to tell Trixie how perfect and kind and wonderful and talented he is, she will light the whole damn palace on fire. Like it wasn’t bad enough having Twilight Sparkle outshine her, now she has to contend with the brother, too. Did being sickeningly perfect run in that family?
Trixie downs her shot the moment the bartender slides it across to her, waving a dismissive hoof in her direction. She glances up at the clock. Good, the wedding should be over any minute now. Then she can put on her show for the drunk family and friends and onlookers, get her money and leave. This is one performance she will be happy to put behind her. The last thing she needs is to stay in Canterlot long enough to bump into Pretty Miss Perfect Princess Sparkle again.
Trixie doesn’t bother looking as the doors fly open behind her, gesturing for another shot. However, the bartender doesn’t seem to notice, looking past her toward the doors in confusion. Trixie sighs loudly, her horn lighting up, lifting up the liquor bottle from behind the bar. Must she do everything herself?
“The shield! It just came down!” one of the newcomers screams.
For a moment, that doesn’t mean anything to the sorceress as she pours herself another drink. Who cares if the shield is up or not? And then the pandemonium starts. Windows burst in and ponies start screaming. Dark shapes fill the room like bad caricatures of ponies, swarming the bar patrons.
Finding herself staring down one of the crudely done nightmare ponies, Trixie freezes up. Losing her focus, the bottle falls to the ground between them, shattering. For a moment, she is not the Great and Powerful Trixie. She is only little Trixie Lulamoon and she is alone in her room, filled with monsters in the moonlight. The dark shape only grins, fangs showing as it lunges forward, the Great and Powerful Trixie just another snack. Trixie doesn’t even have time to scream.
Thankfully, she doesn’t have to. Orange hooves crash against the shadow’s head, sending it sprawling uselessly to the bar floor. The orange pegasus, her mane flame red, keeps kicking at the shadows in the room, bucking one through a table. The remaining creatures seem to decide to go look for easier prey, opting to leave the way they came.
Panting for breath, the pegasus looks around the room. “You all need to get to the garment district right now! Princess Luna is protecting everypony she can down there, but you need to reach her. Take the back alleys. There aren’t that many in town yet, but with the shield gone, that won’t last.”
Finally managing to catch her breath, Trixie slides off her chair, following the Pegasus towards the front door as the other patrons file out the back. “You… You saved Trixie. Thank you.” It grates on her ears even as it leaves her mouth. She shakes her head, trying to clear the bitter taste from her mouth. “Not that Trixie couldn’t have handled it herself. She is one of the most powerful mages in all Equestria.” There, that feels better. “You’re Spitfire, Captain of the Wonderbolts, aren’t you?”
Spitfire looks over her shoulder at the unicorn, giving a curt nod. “Yeah, I’m sure you could. Look, you need to go. These things are dangerous. Princess Luna can protect you, but you have to go while you can still reach her.”
“Oh. All right, then.” Trixie trots towards the backdoor, a surge of relief rushing through her. Somepony else can protect her. The Princess can surely handle this. She pauses at the door, looking back. Why isn’t Spitfire following? And why should Trixie care? She takes another step, but the stubborn mare still isn’t following.
Sighing in irritation, Trixie turns back around. “Not that it matters at all to Trixie, but isn’t the Princess this way?”
Spitfire nods, sticking her head out the door, looking up and down the street. “Yeah. So you better hurry. I’ve got to go see if I can slow them down to buy the Princesses some time to work out a plan to stop them.”
Trixie swallows, her throat suddenly feeling unusually tight. “But you’ll die if you go out there. You’re just one pegasus. There’s nothing you can do.”
The orange pony shoots a wry grin over her shoulder. “And if I don’t, how many other ponies are gonna die? I’m a Wonderbolt. I’ve gotta try.”
The relief Trixie had felt only moments ago evaporates like so much smoke during one of her parlor tricks, shame pouring in to fill the void. She should leave the stupid pegasus. If she wants to throw her life away for a bunch of other mouth breathing ponies, that’s her problem. Besides, Twilight Sparkle will probably save the day again, amazing everyone with her strength and kindness. Might as well go hide behind Princess Luna till the dust settles.
Except… “No!” Trixie shouts, stomping a hoof. She’s tired of being the coward, of being a fraud. Why should she have to look in the mirror everyday and realize that she’s a big joke? The Great and Powerful Trixie is nothing more than a bunch of smoke and mirrors, a little filly’s desperate grab for attention. While she’s trying to save her own life, Twilight is probably protecting everypony. Even this dumb pegasus is about to run back out into the storm and get herself killed. How is that fair? Why does everypony else get to be the hero? When is it Trixie’s turn?
“You’ll need help. Lucky for you, the Great and Powerful Trixie is here.” Trixie puts on her best, most arrogant smirk, stepping up beside the Wonderbolt Captain. “Where are they all coming from?”
Spitfire looks warily at the other pony before giving a shrug. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all. “When I was flying over here, it looked like the biggest concentration of them was coming from the north.”
Pulling her cloak tighter around herself and adjusting her hat, Trixie steps out the door, forcing Spitfire to follow. Good. Trixie is back in the lead. “Take me there,” she commands.
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The wind whips through Trixie’s hair, tugging at her cloak and hat like the fingers of some clingy god. This annoys Trixie as she hangs goofily from the pegasus, back legs trailing behind her, Spitfire’s forelegs around her middle. She must look ridiculous. If she ever rides a pegasus again, she’s going to sit on their back. This is just embarrassing.
“Where are they all coming from? I can’t see any of them. Do you think maybe those storm clouds scared them off?” the sorceress yells over the wind, gesturing towards the huge black smudges in the distance.
“Those aren’t clouds. That’s them,” Spitfire yells back, flying straight towards the gathering darkness.
Trixie gulps, her eyes widening. How can there be so many? Even with every guard in Canterlot, could they possibly turn back that tide? What good can one stage magician and her trusty pegasus do? ‘I’m going to die,’ she thinks, her heart sinking low in her chest, fighting off a shudder that threatens to paralyze her. Trixie doesn’t want to die! There is so much more for her to do! So many more performances left undone!
“Here we go!” Spitfire yells, flying right into the maelstrom, the dark imitation ponies surrounding them on all sides.
“Stay back!” Trixie yells at the ghostly shapes, her voice wavering. Gathering magic around her like a suit of armor, Trixie starts lashing out with spells. One of the creatures turns to ice, plummeting through the air. A bolt of lightning hits another. Ribbons wrap up a third. Another is engulfed in a giant top hat. Trixie pulls out every flashy trick she can think of, running through her routines in her head.
And still the monsters come. They come for little Trixie Lulamoon. They don’t fear the Great and Powerful Trixie. They come for the mewling little child clinging to her blanket in the darkness. They see her for the joke she is, just a child playing pretend for scraps of attention.
Spitfire jolts as one of the phantoms crashes into her, bucking with both back legs to send it crashing off of her. But too late, she’s been slowed down. Another creature slams into her. And another. They whirl about the duo, trying to tear them apart in the air, feeding on them.
Shrieking, Trixie waves her hooves wildly, too panicked to cast any spells. Her hat gets knocked off in the tussle, lost in the flickering darkness. Spitfire kicks one last time, pushing away from the storm cloud of changelings.
The two ponies plummet through the air. As the ground comes up to meet them, Trixie can’t stop thinking about her hat. She really liked that hat. She finds it oddly disconcerting that the hat bothers her more than her impending death. She can’t think of anyone who will miss her or anyone she wishes she could see again. Just her stupid hat. How depressing.
“I gotcha! Hold on!”Spitfire grunts as she pulls out of the steep descent, just clearing a palace spire. She tries to catch her breath, flapping in the wind. “Okay, so that didn’t work out so well. I’m gonna drop you off with Princess Luna and then head back out again. I don’t think we can slow them down. At this rate, they’re gonna overtake the palace before Princess Celestia can do anything to stop them.”
“Thankyouthankyouthankyou…” Trixie gets out in a rush, tears rolling down her cheeks that she didn’t even realize she has been shedding. She is going to live! She will be safe back with the princess! She’ll be fine! Only… Only so many other ponies are going to die. Spitfire is probably going to die. Why does that make Trixie so sad? There aren’t any ponies who will miss Trixie when she’s gone. But what about Spitfire? Does she have ponies who will cry when she’s gone? What about all those other ponies down there? All Trixie has is her damn hat. And now she doesn’t even have that.
“No. I can do this. I can do anything,” the unicorn says shakily, her voice gaining conviction as she talks. “I am the Great and Powerful Trixie! There’s nothing I can’t do! No stupid fake ponies are going to get the better of the Great and Powerful Trixie and Spitfire the Perfectly Adequate! Trixie laughs at danger! And she is much more beautiful and charming than Twilight Sparkle as she does!” Trixie forces a bold laugh. “Can you go any faster this time?”
Spitfire laughs. “You’ve got moxie, kid. You bet I can. Hold onto your rump!” Spitfire spreads her wings wide and shoots forward, launching them back up towards the never ending nightmare up above. With Spitfire’s added speed, they punch straight through the swirling cloud of shadows, sending dozens flailing in the air.
This time, Trixie doesn’t use anything flashy. There’s no time for theatrics and crowd pleasing spells. She just throws whatever she can at them, channeling as much magic as she can. Her head starts to throb as she keeps lobbing spells at the creatures, but more and more keep coming. She quickly loses track of everything but the constant swirl of darkness. There is no up or down in this world of monsters. But still she keeps going, throwing spells as Spitfire kicks and headbutts her way through them. It gets harder and harder to think as Trixie casts more magic in this one afternoon than she has in an entire lifetime on stage. Her head feels heavy, her body sags in Spitfire’s arms. Her horn feels like it must be on fire, burning a hole inside her brain. She and Spitfire have to hold on. But for what? What could stop these monsters?
But that’s okay. If Trixie is going to die, Trixie is going to die a legend. She has always been a performer and this is the performance of a lifetime. No one will forget the name Trixie Lulamoon. That makes her smile, even as her horn cracks under the pressure. Even as her lungs feel like she’s breathing fire, Trixie keeps casting spell after spell. Even as darkness overwhelms them. Even as midnight becomes forever.
And then there is light. It’s so very bright, but Trixie can’t close her eyes. It feels like she hasn’t seen light in a lifetime, maybe longer. It feels warm and safe. She basks in the glow as it chases the monsters away, the shockwave sending her and Spitfire tumbling through the air. She feels Spitfire lose her grip on her, but that’s okay. The light has her now.
“Trixie!” Spitfire cries out as she crashes to the street below. The wind knocked out of her, Spitfire forces herself to her feet, wincing as she feels the agonizing pain of the wing she’d landed on. Broken. She pushes that aside, looking up at the miracle before her. “We did it! We held them off!” she calls out triumphantly. “Good job, Trix! Trix?” she yells into the mostly empty street, ignoring the cheering ponies from inside buildings. There! A lump of blue in a tattered indigo cloak. Oh, Celestia, she’s not moving!
Spitfire races to the battered body of the blue unicorn, dropping down next to her. “Trix, get up! C’mon, I know you can hear me!” she says manically, trying to keep the rising panic out of her voice. “Get up! I know you’re okay!”
Trixie looks up to where Spitfire’s voice is coming from. She blinks, still unable to see anything after the blinding light. But that’s okay, too. It was beautiful. “Did we do it?” she gets out, her chest feeling like a bag of broken glass every time she breathes.
“Yeah, we did it, Trix. We held them off. It’s fine. Everything’s gonna be fine, I promise,” Spitfire grins, pressing her muzzle against the unicorn’s head.
“Do… Do you think she saw it?” Trixie asks weakly.
“Who?”
“Twilight Sparkle. Do you think she saw me? Saving everypony?” Trixie asks, her voice a strained whisper.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure she did. She had to,” Spitfire replies, holding the broken unicorn close.
“Good…” Trixie says, a smile on her muzzle as the last of the light fades from her eyes.