Rain poured down on Ponyville in sheets, harder than any other day that week. According to the pegasi forecasts it was the last day of rain for the next month, so almost everypony was content to wait out the storm from the comfort of their homes.
In an apple orchard far out on the edge of town, a pony in a raincoat and boots trudged through the dark and downpour. The rain soaked every exposed part of the pony’s body, running down her sides and into the rubber boots that squelched with every fall of her mud-caked legs.
A small rough-built treehouse came into sight just past the last row of apple trees. The dim golden glow of lantern light shone through the structure’s curtained windows. The mare had been there yesterday, for just a few brief moments.
The pony approached with slow, methodical care. Her hooves descended gently into the puddles and mud patches, the quiet splashes and squelches drowned out by the patter of thousands of raindrops. The sound of voices in the clubhouse grew louder as the mare crept around the back of the clubhouse and ducked silently underneath its floorboards.
The mare stood still under the shelter of the treehouse, her ears perked in attention under her hood and straining to detect any sign that the ponies above had detected her approach. The seconds ticked by as she waited, but the gentle drone of voices above continued undisturbed. The mare turned and nested herself between the branching roots at the base of the tree trunk. The pony slid her front hooves out of her rain boots and picked up the rubber footwear in her mouth. She glanced around for a safe nook in the roots or an even patch of ground to rest them on. Her searching eyes slowed as they passed over a toy wagon on her side just around the curve of the tree trunk. The metal wagon had been left barely inside the edge of the treehouse’s protective umbrella. Not daring to roll the wagon closer, the mare instead craned her neck out and let her boots slide from between her clenched teeth and into the dry bed of the wagon.
Finally situated, the pony sat back against the tree trunk. She tilted her head up and let the hood of her coat slide off. Small lines of golden light falling against the pony’s face and long mane through the cracks in the floor. The pony lifted her front hooves beside her head and cupped her wet ankles around her ears, making the sounds filtering down through the floorboards a little clearer. Just clear enough to make out the words.
She closed her eyes, and listened.
“The Guidance and Patronage of Trixie”
Chapter 6
An MLP:FiM fanfiction by Lounge_Lizard, aka Im_Not_Sue
(Characters: Sweetie Belle, Trixie, Applejack, Rarity)
(v1.0.1 - 03/13/13)
Trixie relaxed her telekinetic hold on the grooming brush and let it sink back to the ground. With one hoof she dragged the corner of the pillow her client rested on and turned it until Sweetie was facing her. She rubbed her chin with one hoof as she considered the results of her work. A small smile crept on her face, despite herself.
Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow suspiciously, looking back over her shoulder at the mirror but found nothing amiss about her reflection. Turning back she glared at the older unicorn and started feeling at her scalp with her small hooves “Why are you smiling? Did you make me look silly?”
“No, its just... hehee.” Trixie giggled, levitating the tips of Sweetie’s mane up into a curve resembling her own preferred hairstyle. “You’re no ‘Great and Powerful Sweetie Belle.’ You look much better with curls.”
Sweetie giggled back and picked up the discarded brush from the floor with both hooves and waved it menacingly at the older unicorn. “Maybe you’d look good with curls like me!”
“Celestia forbid it! Trixie’s reputation would be ruined!” Trixie said, laughing as she batted away the offending grooming implement and ruffled Sweetie’s mane with her other hoof. “Now go brush your teeth, it's bedtime for us.”
“Aww... but I wanted to do something with you before bed.” Sweetie Belle protested, pouting cutely.
Trixie sighed in amused exasperation and shook her head. “Alright, tell Trixie what you desire.”
“Well... whenever my big sis brushed me, I’d be drawing with crayons. And sometimes she’d draw with me.” Sweetie said, her face flushing red with embarrassment. “And um... I kinda wanted you to draw with me too.”
“I haven’t drawn since I was a young filly. I’m probably no good at it anymore. Maybe something else would be better...” Trixie said nervously. She glanced at some of the pictures the Crusaders had pinned to the walls of the clubhouse, finding solace in the absence of any true artistic mastery amongst the stick figures and scribbled landscapes. “But as you wish. Just for a little while.”
Sweetie Belle let out a squeal of delight and skipped over to the corner of the clubhouse where the Crusaders’ collection of toys and games were kept. Digging around for a bit, she emerged with a flat case in her mouth and began pushing a box filled with various colors of paper across the floor.
Trixie levitated the box up onto the table for Sweetie and watched as the young filly slid the lid off the case of crayons and set it between them. Several dozen crayons from many different collections lay in the box, a wide variety of shapes and hues all jumbled together without care for order or reason.
“So... where should we start?” Trixie asked as she sat down at the table, trying to force eagerness into her voice to mask her uncertain hesitation.
“Just draw whatever you want! But after you finish your first one, you have to draw something together with me, okay?” Sweetie said, still grinning with excitement. She leaned over to the box and pulled out a sheet of grey construction paper with her teeth and centered it in front of her. She then picked out a red crayon and began to draw wavy lines across the top.
Trixie looked at the box of paper and the open case of crayons, and tentatively pulled out a pale green page and levitated a black crayon over to her, her mind completely blank on what to draw. She stared at the page for a few minutes. Glancing up at Sweetie’s page, she saw the filly scribbling out a scene that appeared to be her and two other ponies struggling to raise a red flag emblazoned with the same symbol as the ones on the capes hanging by the clubhouse door.
Trixie lifted the black crayon uncertainly and began to draw, using her magic to guide her strokes as she focused on the page. She switched colors a few times, exchanging her black for brown, then blue, purple, and more. Before long, a blob resembling a certain blue unicorn in a purple cape could be seen standing on a stage with sparks of magic flying around her.
“Hey!” Sweetie yelled suddenly, the crayon falling from her mouth. “I can’t do that with my magic so that’s not fair! You have to draw like me!”
Trixie jumped in surprise at Sweetie’s sudden shout. Her magic winked out and her own crayon dropped from the air to clatter against to table. Trixie looked up to find Sweetie Belle glaring at her from across the table. In her concentration, Trixie forgot that the filly had started insisting the older mare not use her magic when they played together, and Trixie had tried to be empathetic to when the use of her magic might make the younger pony feel jealous or inadequate.
“Sorry! I... I forgot!” Trixie said, bowing her head in embarrassment. She leaned over and awkwardly picked the crayon up in her mouth. She flicked her tongue across the butt of the coloring tool, watching the tip move about clumsily. She frowned, remembering why she always disliked mouth drawing. “Like thtith?”
“Uh-huh, just like that! No magic!” Sweetie said, as she pointed one hoof at Trixie approvingly. She leaned over the table and looked at the green paper Trixie had drawn on. She tilted her head at an awkward angle, trying to get a better look. “What did you draw? Is that you?”
Trixie looked down at the drawing she had made.
It is me, but... ugh, this looks awful. And why did I draw myself on a stage, and why am I smiling? I... I don’t want to be like I was then anymore. Why did I have to be so stupid back then? I wish I could go back and change it... I wish...
Trixie dropped the crayon again and crumpled up the paper with her hooves, her face flushed red as she threw the ball to the floor. “No, it was nothing. Just a scribble.”
Sweetie folded her ears and drew back until her face was half hidden under the table. “I’m sorry...”
Trixie shook her head, looking over at the cowering filly and forcing a half-smile onto her face. “No, it’s alright. It’s not your fault. Maybe you can show me what you’ve drawn instead?”
Sweetie sat back up and nodded, hesitation in her voice as she held up her drawing to explain it. “Well... first I drew this, it’s me and Applebloom and Scootaloo. We’re putting the Cutie Mark Crusader flag in the sandbox in the playground at school after we got rid of Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon and made it safe for other ponies without their cutie marks to play without being bullied. Scootaloo used to talk about it doing stuff like this a lot before we met Applebloom, but we don't really care about it anymore since we formed the Crusaders. So... I guess this is kinda stupid too.”
Sweetie Belle started crumpling up her own drawing, but Trixie quickly reached out with her hoof and set it atop Sweetie Belle’s. “No, don’t. Please, it’s... a fine drawing. Your friend Scootaloo might like it. You should save it for her.”
Sweetie stared down at the paper and thought it over for a moment, then nodded her head and took her hooves away from the picture. “You’re right. She probably would wanna see it.”
Sweetie Belle carefully folded the picture and walked across the room, placing it in a crate next to the door with a folded up scooter and helmet in it.
Trixie waited until the filly sat back down on her cushion before lifting another piece of paper out from the box and setting it down between them.
“So... um... You said you wanted me to draw something special with you?”
“Oh, yeah. I wanted to draw us when we first met so I can put it on the wall! Me and Applebloom and Scootaloo do that every time we do something we want to remember together. We put all our special pictures up there.” Sweetie said. The filly turned and pointed at the drawings hanging on the wall one by one. “That one’s when we first met at Diamond Tiara’s cuteceañera party, and that one is when we won awards at the Ponyville talent show. And that... that’s just a map of Ponyville that Scootaloo made. It’s too hard to read when you keep crossing out places to try get a cutie mark at, but she won’t let us take it down.”
“And you want one of you and me?” Trixie said, her gaze flowing over each of the pieces Sweetie had gestured at. She lifted one hoof up and held it against her chest, a strange tension rising inside her. Her heart fluttered inside its cage like a bird, feeling as if it was rising up in her throat. Tense, but at the same time light and free.
“Yeah! Meeting you made me really happy! I want to put it on the wall too so I won't forget how it happened!”
“Okay, I’ll try. Just... tell me what to do.” Trixie said.
Many minutes later, Trixie lifted her crayon from last lines on the sheet of white paper laid out before her.
“Okay. I’m done, I think. I’m sorry I took so long on my part. You can look now.”
“Finally! I’ve been waiting!” Sweetie exclaimed happily as she stood up from the floor, leaving behind another picture she had drawn while waiting for the other unicorn to finish. She quickly trotted over to Trixie to inspect the mare’s creation.
“Is this really okay? I didn’t really make your mane look curly, and your legs are just stumps. I could’ve done better. I’m just really bad at drawing with my mouth...” Trixie said while anxiously rolling a crayon between her hooves.
“It’s great! I look perfect!” Sweetie said, breaking into a wide smile and hopping on the tips of her hooves a few times. “But what about me, did I make you look good too? Did I?”
“I’m not sure what you drew around my head, and my cape isn’t that color, and it’s missing the stars but... yes, I look alright.” Trixie responded hesitantly, feeling awkward at being complimented for her simple drawing.
Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. “It’s your magic! You’re great and powerful and amazing with magic so I had to draw that somehow. And Applebloom lost our last violet crayon months ago, so I had to use blue on your cape!”
“Well... okay then. Blue is close enough.” Trixie responded with a smirk and a slight blush. She turned and pointed over Sweetie’s back to the drawing laying on the ground behind them. “Now show me what you have there.”
Sweetie Belle hopped down and retrieved the paper from the ground and held it open against her chest for Trixie to see.
“I drew my big sis, Rarity. She told me she loved my drawings of her and kept them in a drawer at home so she could look at them sometimes. I miss drawing for her too...” Sweetie Belle said, her voice falling. She put the drawing up on the table next to the box of crayons. “Do you have a big sis, Trixie?”
Trixie shook her head. “No, I was an only foal.”
“Well... did you have somepony else who you liked to draw with? A friend, or your parents?”
“Yeah... my dad.” Trixie mumbled. Her smile faded and her gaze drifted away into a corner of the room.
“You should draw him then! I’m sure he’d like to see it.” Sweetie said cheerfully.
“Maybe some other time,” Trixie said, her voice flat and emotionless. “I’ll pin this on the wall while you brush your teeth and get ready for bed. I’ll clean up for you.”
Sweetie Belle cocked her head in puzzlement at the mare’s sudden shift in mood.
“Aww, why can’t I stay up with you? I can puh--” Sweetie began, her mouth stretching wide as she was interrupted by a large yawn. “Huaeeehhh... We... um... shoot, what was I saying...?”
“We’ve stayed up late enough as it is. There will be plenty of time for things tomorrow,” Trixie said, nudging the filly off her cushion. “I’ll clean up, now off you go.”
Trixie waited until Sweetie Belle had taken her cup and brush to the door of the clubhouse and set it out to collect rainwater before she started to pack things up. She first put away the brushes left out from Sweetie’s grooming, and then set about collecting the loose crayons that the filly had dug out and left on the floor. She was just about to finish putting the last of them away and close the lid when a color caught her eye: cerulean. Trixie levitated the crayon out of the box and held it in front of her.
It’s kinda the same color...
Trixie looked back in the crayon case. There was grey, and brown too. All the right colors. She levitated those out as well, along with a blank sheet of paper from the box on the floor.
Sweetie said it made her sister feel special. Did I make you feel that way too, dad? You told me I was... I was your ‘little shooting star.’ Is that how I make Sweetie feel? She even liked your song...
Trixie sniffled. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes as she picked up the cerulean crayon in her mouth and began to draw. The wax stick wobbled between her lips as she traced it over the page. She switched colors, dropping one crayon and scooping up the next even as small droplets fell from her eyes onto the page. Many colors emerged from the box. Cobalt blue, Canterlot yellow, dark grey, sunny green, and finally black each given a few careful strokes across the page.
Trixie dropped the last crayon and stepped back, her work complete. Her lips trembled as she gazed upon the picture before her. Slowly, the corners of her cheeks rose into a sad smile. Trixie sniffled and wiped her eyes, a choked laugh escaping her upturned corners of her lips.
I think I finally understand what you meant, dad...
“Trixie?” Sweetie Belle said hesitantly, the sound of her hooves on the wooden floor growing close as she approached from behind. “Are you okay...?”
The mare turned and nodded her head as she looked down at her treasured friend, tears running freely down her cheeks.
“I’m okay.” Trixie muttered shakily, the sad smile still on her lips.
Sweetie Belle frowned, looking from the mare to the drawing on the table, her ears folded back against her head in confusion. On the paper laying before her, drawn in a few simple colors, was a blue-green pony with a grey and brown mane and a yellow dot for his eye. The pony stood on a green grassy hill beneath scattered golden stars. In front of him on the hill sat a telescope, standing on two legs, tilted up to view the sky above.
“Who is this?” Sweetie Belle said softly, turning to look back at her mentor as she lifted the drawing in her hooves with delicate care.
Trixie sniffled and nodded again, her face contorting as she struggled in vain to hold back her tears in front of the filly.
“Dad.”
“Is he okay? You never said anything, and then the other night when you had bad dreams and I woke you up, you said he was...” Sweetie babbled, a pang of worry shooting through her chest.
Trixie slowly shook her head, her smile breaking as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and lifted a hoof to her face. Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Dead.”
“Oh no, Trixie...” Sweetie whimpered. She let the paper slip from her hooves as she ran over to the blue unicorn and threw herself against Trixie, hugging her just as the mare choked back a sob. Sweetie tugged at Trixie’s sides, guiding her down to the floor so she could rest the older pony’s head against her small chest.
Trixie and reached out with her forelegs, drawing the filly close against her and squeezing tightly as she stammered through her sorrow.
“I-it’s ok-kay, I h-h-have y-you to take c-care of now. Y-You’re my little sh-shooting star.”
“I love you.” Sweetie Belle whispered softly as she buried her face into Trixie’s mane and squeezed back, blushing from the words of affection even as an empathetic tear ran from her own cheek.
“I l-love you too.” Trixie whispered back. The two held each other for a few moments, the mare taking slow shuddering breaths to calm herself while Sweetie held her close, letting the pain in her beleaguered heart ease.
She’s here with me, for now, and that’s more than enough. Thank you so much, dad...
Trixie’s sniffling eventually slowed, and she gently eased herself back from the close hug.
“Would you like me to tell you about my dad?” Trixie asked.
Sweetie Belle eagerly nodded her head, but her worried and uncertain frown still remained.
Trixie smiled and stood up, and nudged the filly to follow her.
“Ok. C’mon, I’ll tell you before bed. We’ll clean everything up tomorrow.”
The two made their way over to the bed of pillows. Trixie began to restore the bed to order with her magic, lifting cast away cushions back into place to recreate the perfect filly-size indent just as she had done the last few nights.
Before the mare could finish, Sweetie hopped up into the bed Trixie had made and nosed some of the pillows off to the side and back onto the floor. Trixie giggled as she watched the filly continue to fuss around the bed and undo her hard work.
“You’re making the dip huge again. I thought you liked having it small and tidy,” Trixie said. She picked up a pillow from the floor in her teeth and playfully tossed it back into the pile.
“I’m making room for you too.” Sweetie insisted as she looked back to Trixe while tapping her hoof commandingly on the newly widened bed. “I don’t want you to have another bad nightmare, so you’re going to sleep with me again.”
“Okay, okay.” Trixie relented with a chuckle, finding the filly’s concern touching. She undid the clasp of her cloak with her magic and slid her hat from her head, setting both safely on top of the stacked game boxes in the corner. “All ready?”
Sweetie scooted to the side of the dip she had made, leaving plenty of room for her bigger friend.
“Ready.”
Trixie snuffed the lamp from across the room with her magic and eased herself down onto the bed next to Sweetie Belle. The glow from Trixie’s horn illuminated the two for another few seconds as Trixie pulled the blanket up over them, and then all was dark.
Sweetie Belle snuggled up against Trixie and wrapped her hooves around the older mare’s chest, just as she had a few nights before, and this time Trixie did not pull away. Sweetie felt the other unicorn’s forelegs slide underneath the blanket and across her back, returned the hug. Sweetie sighed happily, her warm breath ruffling the hair of the magician’s coat.
“What’s it like, having a dad?” Sweetie asked, her words buzzing in her ear as they reverberated through the older pony’s chest.
Trixie chewed her lip and stared out into the empty darkness of the clubhouse.
“I... I don’t know how to say it. It’s a lot of things, all at once,” she replied. She stroked her hoof along the back of the filly’s neck as she thought of how to answer. “I think it’s... maybe it’s kind of like having a big sister.”
“Huh...” Sweetie mumbled, her voice drifting off. She absently nuzzled her cheek against Trixie’s soft coat as she turned the new idea over in her mind for a few moments, before tucking it away to ponder later. “What did he do? What was his name?”
“His name was Comet Cloud,” Trixie said softly. She laid her head back on the pillows and closed her eyes, a faint smile forming on her face as she reminisced. “And to me, he was the greatest unicorn in all of Equestria...”
Applejack shut the door to the Apple family house behind her, shutting out the cold night air and the rain. She tugged off her yellow raincoat and boots with her teeth and let them fall to the floor in a dripping wet heap.
“I’m home...” Applejack croaked hoarsely to the empty house. She stood there quietly for a minute in the entryway, her legs trembling as she stared at the ground. She could hear Granny Smith snoring loudly in her rocking chair in front of the sitting room fireplace, the mare having fallen into a deep slumber many hours ago. Without a word, Applejack picked her lantern back up and limply shuffled into the foyer and up the stairs to the second story of the house.
The old boards under Applejack’s hooves creaked as she walked down the second floor hall to her room. Many photos hung on the wall to her side, one for every year that had passed for the Apple family since before Applejack could remember. Applejack kept her head down as she walked past the photos toward her own door, but her hooves slowed with every step. She stopped in front of a closed door, a large harness hanging by a railroad spike on it with the initials ‘BM’ stitched into the padding. It was one outgrown many years ago by the stallion that had used it.
“No, no, no...” Applejack mumbled she slumped against the door, her lip trembling. The lantern fell from from her mouth as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and curled up on the floor, trying to hold back her tears.
Why... why does it all have to be so stupid? Rarity and Trixie and Sweetie and everything... Why am I just... so goddamned stupid? I should’ve listened to Twilight. Just listened or not cared at all, and none of this would’ve happened. And now I... I’ve gone and mucked it all to hell, and I can’t fix it! I just messed everything up and made it worse...
Applejack sniffled and looked up at the photos hanging from the wall: pictures of Big Macintosh going off to his first day of school; of Applejack after she bucked her first apple tree; of little Applebloom a few days after she had been born. In many of the photos one could see a pair of earth ponies, a mare or stallion, smiling happily with their children, but after a certain year they no longer appeared. The Apple family reunion photo that year showed every pony dressed in black. After that, Granny Smith was the one seen holding Applebloom as she washed the young foal in the sink, or measuring Big Mac against the kitchen wall as he continued to grow taller year after year.
“Big Mac, please open up. I’m not feelin’ right. I... I... I need your help,” Applejack stammered, her head falling against the door next to her. “I need you to tell me everythin’ll be okay...”
She waited for several moments, but hearing no response from inside Applejack placed one hoof on the handle and gently pushed. The unlocked door slowly creaked open, the flickering orange light from the fallen lantern streaming into Big Macintosh’s empty room.
“Right... crabapples, why are you always so stupid...” Applejack cursed, her heart sinking as she remembered then that her siblings had gone away to Appleoosa.
Applejack glanced through the cracked open door, her usual respect for her elder brother’s privacy somewhat subdued by her curiosity. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been inside her brother’s room, not since she was a little filly.
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt...” Applejack mumbled to herself. Taking a deep shuddering breath, she pushed herself up off the ground and stepped inside.
The room was sparsely decorated, almost spartanly bare. A few shelves in the closet held his formal attire, a desk with the family record books sat against the far wall, a brush lay on the nightstand, and a thin mirror hung on the back of the door. His extra-large bed was tucked underneath the east-facing window so the sun would wake the hard working earth pony in the mornings.
“That’s it...? Nothing?” Applejack asked aloud, unease at her invasion of her brother’s domain mixing with disappointment at her lack of discovery. As she neared her brother’s bed she noticed a posterboard tacked to the side of the desk facing away from the door and circled around to take a look. A few pictures hung from the board in easy sight from the bed. One of Big Macintosh carrying Applebloom asleep on his back at one the Apple family reunions, one of him, Applejack, and Granny Smith together after an apple harvest several years back, and another their cousin Braeburn had sent of himself the first few months after he had settled in Appleloosa. One of Applebloom’s old hair ribbons hung between all three photos, pinned to the board in the shape of a heart.
Applejack climbed up onto her older brother’s bed and laid down, pushing back the sheets with her hind hooves. She stared at the wall of mementoes before her, her heart aching painfully as tears leaked from her eyes. She crossed her front hooves limp over her chest, and closed her eyes tight as she made a wish.
Big Mac... Applebloom... please come home safe. I’m so lucky I still have you, so very lucky.
Applejack rolled over on the earthy-scented bed and sighed, feeling exhaustion creeping in.
“I hope you don’t mind me using your bed like this, Mac...” the earth pony murmured as she shifted around to find a comfortable position. She glanced over the edge of the bed by the window, hoping to find an extra pillow to cushion herself with. Resting below the windowsill beside the bed was a large plush earth pony, almost half as large as Applejack was herself. She had seen it one day at a carnival in Hoofington when she was young, and Big Macintosh had insisted on buying it for her even though she had said she was too old for such things. Despite her trying to be more grown up, she had spent more nights with that toy than her filly-self would have ever admitted. She hadn’t realized he had held onto it, even when she had outgrown the desire to play with toys.
Applejack let out a choked sob. She tugged on a corner of the plush pony toy with her teeth and pulled it up onto the bed with her. It was just as soft she had remembered it, even though many years had passed since she’d held it last. The plush was even still wearing the vest Big Mac had made to cover up the stiches Granny had sewn when the back-seams had torn. Pulling her hind legs up to curl around it, she began crying into the neck of the toy, letting out her bottled up feelings that she’d had to endure for many years, and knew would never go away for as long as she lived.
“Mom... dad... I miss you so much...”
You can find me and my other work posted at --
Thanks again to BrokenHero, RTStephens, VideoG, and Strangemodule for proofreading, and to you for still wanting me to finish this.