The Majestic Tale (of a Mad-Pony in a Box)

by R5h

Great and Powerful (c)

Octavia wondered why her bed felt so stiff. It seemed very uncomfortable to her as she woke up, less like a bed than a table. Then, as she more fully recovered her senses, she realized that was exactly what it was: an angled table to which she was tightly bound beyond the capacity to struggle. I wasn't asleep—Vinyl and I were knocked out by those 'stagehands'. The thought seemed to constrict her chest even more than the straps did.

She opened her eyes to see a large, dingy room reminiscent of an empty warehouse. The walls were windowless and bare, save for one section where four tally marks had been scorched into the wall. In front of her was a low table with various tools: a wrench, a screwdriver, a hammer, tape, several very sharp knives, and other, nastier-looking tools. Behind it stood a stallion in the same robes she'd seen the night before. This, then, would have to be the headquarters of the Order.

She looked to her left to see two more angled tables, only one of which was occupied: Vinyl Scratch lay upon it, snoring loudly. One extra table... they must have been searching for someone else. The Doctor! She thanked Celestia that they hadn't caught him.

“Finally awake, I see.” Her attention returned to the stallion by the toolbench, who was watching her with a smug smile on his face.

Octavia snorted with as much anger as she could manage. “Release us at once!” It wasn’t as much as she’d have liked.

The stallion rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored her demand. He walked to Vinyl and poked her cheek. “Wake up.”

“Aww, dad, five more minutes...” Vinyl mumbled.

“I said wake up.” He turned around and whipped his long tail at her, striking her in the face with his knot.

Vinyl grimaced, and her eyes probably opened; she was still wearing her glasses, so it was difficult to tell. “Dude, I just did the 'held down against my will' thing last night, with someone way hotter than you.” She looked around the room until she found Octavia, and what joviality there had been in her tone disappeared. “Okay, you're gonna let us go right now or I'm gonna friggin' kill you.”

Their guard laughed. “There are dozens of us here, girl. Even if you could kill me, you'd die painfully by their hooves. Now be silent.” He turned his back on them and walked to a door next to a staircase at the other end of the room. “Brothers and sister, they have awoken!”

Vinyl bared her teeth and tensed her body, but then looked back at Octavia and seemed to hesitate—though what she could be hesitating to do, Octavia had no idea. They were immobilized, after all. With a sigh, Vinyl went limp and forced a grin onto her face. “How you doing?” she asked Octavia. “Okay?”

“I believe so. You?”

“Oh, you know me. I'm always a teensy bit grumpy when I wake up.”

“Silence.” The two of them looked back at the door, and saw a trio of cultists walking toward them, led by the mare they had seen the night before. She turned on the stallion who'd called her down. “I ordered you to call me when all of them were awake.”

“Sister, they are all awake!” he protested.

“Where is the third? The brown one, where is he? We need all the leverage we can get!”

The guard shifted uneasily. “He's proven impossible to find.”

The mare slapped him across the face. “Idiot. Get out of my sight until you can tell me he's been captured. And gather the pegasi—there's no time left to waste.” The guard bowed and left the room, leaving four cultists in front of them. “As for you two,” she said, turning back to Vinyl and Octavia, “welcome to the Order of Four.”

“And what is that?” Octavia asked, careful to keep any note of panic out of her voice. The more time they spend talking, the less time I spend learning what those tools on the table are for.

“The Order of Four, girl, is—”

“Between three and five.”

Octavia and the cultists looked to Vinyl, who shrugged as best as she could and continued, “That's the order of four. It goes between three and five. Come on, lady, basic math!”

The cultist rolled her eyes. “We are the chosen few, hoofpicked by our Brother for our exceptional abilities. I, for example, was chosen for my superlative wisdom,” she declared.

Vinyl barely stifled a laugh, in a way that sounded like an elephant stifling its trumpet. “No, no, don't mind me, keep talking,” she chortled. “This is gold.”

The lady cultist gritted her teeth. “You saw our demonstration last night; that was merely a test of our magical prowess. We have the ability to control the smaller beings of the Everfree Forest, and very soon we will demonstrate the ability to control something much grander.”

“Such as what?” Octavia asked.

The cultist smiled. “Something that will destroy the city—unless Fillydelphia recognizes our greatness and surrenders itself to the Order of Four! We will be the masters of this city! And your magician friend will not be able to do anything about it!”

Vinyl burst out laughing. She writhed in her hysterics, to the point that Octavia worried she might hurt herself against her restraints. After what seemed like an eternity, she managed to calm down enough to splutter, “Magician friend? You mean Trixie? Oh dear Celestia, you guys are—” She relapsed into hysterics.

“Enough!” the cultist yelled. “You dare mock the Order?”

“Of course I do!” Vinyl finally calmed down enough to speak at length. “Seriously, your idea is to try to hold Fillydelphia ransom—that's the stupidest plan I've ever heard of! No, wait wait wait, I know why that Brother of yours must have chosen you specifically—he needed people who were too stupid to realize how dumb the plan was!”

The head cultist growled, but managed to compose herself. “Then, pray tell, what is wrong with our plan?”

“What's wrong? What's right with this plan?” Vinyl snorted in derision. “Okay, fine. You're the Order of Four, so here's four things. Number one—”

“Don't tell them!” Octavia interjected.

Vinyl gave her a surprised look. “Do you even realize what you're saying?” Octavia asked her. “You're about to tell the evil villains how to make their evil plan better! Why can you never just stop talking?”

“But Octavia—”

“Vinyl, if you say one more thing, I swear that as soon as we get out of this I'm—why, I'm moving out of your flat.”

“Do you really think you'll escape—” one of the cultists began.

“Oh, shut up!” Octavia screamed. Astonishingly, he did just that; she must have managed a tone of real anger.

Vinyl hesitated for several seconds—a new record, Octavia thought bitterly—and when she opened her mouth again, her speech was slow. It's almost like she's choosing her words carefully. Shocking. “I wanted to help you feel better.”

Octavia looked away, keeping her own mouth shut. Vinyl continued: “I figured you'd be scared, because they kidnapped us, and I wanted to help. And mouthing off's kinda how I do stuff like that, y'know? Sad but true. I just thought... you know... you're usually okay with it, but maybe I’m being dumber.” A pause. Then: “And for what it's worth, I'd like it if you stayed at the house. I, um, enjoy your company. It's cool, and you’re a good friend, so there. I'll stop talking now,” she hastily finished as Octavia looked back her way.

Octavia remained silent, thinking. Vinyl has a point—that is how she helps me deal with things. Nevermind the fact that this is probably how she's helping herself to cope—should I be angry with her now? Is this really the time?

“This is all very touching,” the Order's leader deadpanned. “But, if you don't mind, we'll hear your four things now, Miss Scratch. Or we can start your girlfriend off with the hoofbreaker, if you prefer.”

“Uh, we're not girlfriends—we're just friends,” Vinyl corrected. “And technically also girls.”

“I said speak!” The cultist grabbed a large viselike tool from the table and sent it floating towards Octavia.

Vinyl looked over at her. “Trust me to say this?”

Octavia looked back at the hoofbreaker, gulped, then looked back at Vinyl. “Go ahead.”

“Okay!” And just like that, Vinyl was back to her usual tone of voice. Does she have a switch on her or something? “Thing one—you guys are idiots.” The leader of the cultists growled, and the hoofbreaker stayed levitated. “I know, sounds weird to say it, but sometimes you gotta start with the obvious, right?” A grin started worming its way onto Octavia's face.

“Thing numbah two! Did you honestly think that no one's gonna notice a bunch of ponies in silly clothes taking over an entire city? Like, say, Princess Celestia—didn't you think of what she's gonna do?”

“It is of no concern.” The cultist smiled.

“Well, I guess you would say that, being an idiot and all. Okay, thing three coming up... you've misidentified the protector.”

“What?” The cultist narrowed her eyes.

“No, really. You actually thought Trixie's gonna be the one to save us. You think she's the one to be afraid of. Because?” Vinyl asked, turning to Octavia.

“You're imbeciles!” Octavia completed, smiling broadly now.

“... close enough. No, it's not Trixie. It's the really hot one. The Doctor.”

The cultist hooted. “The one with the brown mane? The idiot?”

“Hey, is that a jab against people who talk too much?” Vinyl scowled. “Really, though. If you thought Princess Celestia would mess you guys up, well...” She smiled smugly. “Sorry, guys, you ain't winning this one. And you know why—”

“Because you're idiots!” Octavia and Vinyl finished, and laughed.

“And the 'fourth thing'?” the cultist asked through gritted teeth.

“But you guys, really!” Vinyl laughed. “I'm only telling you this stuff because you're so stupid that it won't help!”

“Tell me!” The mare grabbed the hoofbreaker herself, marched over to Vinyl, and held it up to her horn. “Tell me or your horn will be the first thing to go.”

Under normal circumstances, Octavia realized, she'd have been scared of this very real threat—but now it seemed too comical, even pitiful, to take seriously. A bunch of ponies in silly robes, thinking they can take over the world? Vinyl seemed, if anything, even less serious; she blew a raspberry at the cultist. “Can't tell you now, sweetheart. Number four's the big payoff. Trust me, you got enough on your plate already.”

The cultist snarled and began to close the vise around Vinyl's horn—but a cultist burst through the door at the far end of the room. “My sister!” he called. All eyes turned toward him. “We have a problem.”

It didn't take Trixie long to figure out where to go. Before she'd run a block from her cart, there was a poster slapped on a post office for “The Concert of the Year”, featuring Vinyl and Octavia's faces. Fillydelphia Amphitheatre, Trixie read. Good. Now to go warn them, if they're still there. She dashed off in that direction, silently thanking the months spent pulling her heavy cart for her stamina.

As she ran through the crowded Fillydelphia street to the amphitheatre, she was surprised to find a patch of shadow across the road, and looked up to see a cloud in the sky. Strange—the weather crew didn't schedule any clouds for today. Then a flash of brown caught her eye; she turned to her left and saw the Doctor dashing the other way down the street. “Doctor!” she yelled, just before he got out of visual range.

He turned around, his eyes widening in recognition. The two of them struggled through the current of ponies and reached each other in the middle of the shaded street. “Good to see you're okay,” he said, looking decidedly unrelieved. “What happened to you? Why were you running?”

“Somepony gave Trixie—ugh!” She pulled out the letter from the night before, and started again. “Somepony gave me this. Where are Vinyl and Octavia?”

“The Order of Four took them,” he said, scanning the note in a moment.

“The Order of Four? That's a dumb name.”

“Is that really important?” He grunted in anger, and turned on the spot as if to get his bearings. “We need to get them back right now, and we need to stop whatever the Order's planning.”

“What is the Order planning?”

“No idea,” he breathed. “Wanna help me find out?” He started trotting back in the direction she'd come from, and she followed. “What do we know?” he asked her.

“They can mind control animals.”

“And?”

“And that's it!” she exclaimed in frustration. “That's all we have!”

“No, you know we've got more than that.” The Doctor gave her an odd look. “We know they're planning something bigger than controlling a lot of little animals. And actually,” he remarked, “is it just me or is it getting darker?”

Trixie looked up to see yet more clouds filling the sky above Fillydelphia and the Everfree Forest. Even as she watched, the light of the sun grew dimmer and dimmer as cloud covered cloud, until the ponies on the street noticed too. They turned their heads to the sky and muttered to each other in confusion. “That's not scheduled at all,” Trixie said.

“Our friends from the double-O Four, no doubt.” The Doctor grimaced. “So there's another clue.”

“Is it a thunderstorm?”

“I don't think so... they're darkening the sky, so whatever they're doing, it has to be dark. Maybe they'd have waited until nightfall, but we forced their hands... hooves, sorry... no, hang on, thinking,” he said, waving a hoof at her as she tried to ask about 'hands'. “You can see it's above Fillydelphia and Everfree, so they're controlling an animal... a big, nocturnal animal, maybe? Trixie, do you know of any big, nocturnal animals they'd be able to find in the Everfree Forest?”

It took a few seconds, but Trixie came up with something. Her jaw dropped, and she took a few steps back. “Trixie?” the Doctor asked. “What is it? What's wrong?”

“No, they couldn't,” she muttered. “It's impossible. No one could do that.”

“What is? Trixie?”

Trixie started marching back to her cart, desperately trying to reassure herself. It's not that. The chances of it being... that... are one in a million... oh, who is Trixie kidding. With Trixie’s luck, how could it not be that?

“Trixie, talk to me!” the Doctor called, catching up with with her. “Do you know what it is?”

“There are many truly massive creatures in the Everfree Forest, Doctor, but one dwarfs them all. Do you think they'd have provoked the biggest thing in the forest?”

“Yes.”

“Then Trixie knows what it is.”

Before Trixie knew what was happening, she was on the ground with her hooves over her ears. Moments later, her brain was able to tell her that an incredible roar was blasting through the city, a tsunami of sound that blotted out all other noise for several seconds. She could not tell when it ended, and for several seconds was not sure that it had; she didn't think she could hear the roar, but could not hear much of anything but an awful ringing in her ears.

“... was that?” The Doctor was cowering only a few feet from her, but he might have been a mile away for how distant his voice sounded. “What was that?” he yelled.

Trixie stood and looked to the noise's source, deep within the Everfree Forest beneath the furthest extent of cloud cover. There, in the distance, was something that should have been impossible: a patch of night sky, bathed in purple and resplendent with stars.

“That...” Trixie gulped. “That was an Ursa Major.”

“Right. What's an Ursa Major, then?” But she was too busy turning and running away to answer. “Trixie!” he yelled, trying to follow her, but he was not fast enough. “Where are you going?” She kept running and quickly joined the crowd fleeing the Ursa Major, wondering how she could have dreamed of helping. The Doctor's plaintive shouts quickly faded out of hearing. With any luck, he won't be able to find me.

The Doctor had no trouble finding Trixie. As he entered the town square, the top of her cart was clearly visible over the surge of evacuating ponies. He let the tide carry him to it and found her hitching herself up to the cart, preparing for departure. “Trixie!” he yelled.

“Trixie won't help you get out of here.” She did not look at him, only struggled to hitch herself to her cart. The straps, enveloped in her purple magic, could not tie themselves correctly. “You can run away on your own four hooves.”

The Doctor grinned, trying to infect her with a little fighting spirit. “Oh, I'd reckon we've done enough running away recently. It's time we stayed and fought.”

“Stupid idea. Let the police deal with it. It's their job.”

“Trixie.” So much for fighting spirit. His voice dropped to a low, serious tone. “What do you think the police can do about—”

“Nothing!” She whipped her head around, letting him see the determined despair on her face. “They can't do anything at all, and if you think Trixie can do better against that monster you're as crazy as Trixie was!” Her attention returned to the straps, but she kept talking. “Trixie—I mean, I used that brag about the Ursa Major so many times in my act, I think I started to believe maybe I could do it. And then an Ursa baby showed up and I couldn't do anything! A baby!” Finally she managed to get her straps tied up, and looked back at the Doctor. “No more illusions for this illusionist. I'm only good for making ponies look the wrong way. That's it.”

A few seconds later, as she was pulling away from him, the words clicked. “That's it!” He ran in front of her, blocking her path and shouting with excitement. “That is it! Oh, that's precisely it!”

“Trixie doesn't understand—”

“Of course not. Understanding would mean doing a thing, which according to you, you can't do—except that that's a bigger lie than any you've ever told. How many months—how many years—have you stayed on the road despite all the mockery? How many ponies told you to give up?”

She looked to the side. “Maybe I should have.”

“Yes, and how easy that would have been.” He walked around her, maintaining eye contact. “But if you'd done what was easy, you'd never have gotten here, would you.”

“This isn't not easy, Doctor, this is impossible!”

“That's how I know you can do it! You do the impossible!”

“I PRETEND!” she bellowed.

“Exactly.”

Her eyes widened in confusion, but she was still standing there, so he continued. “Just listen for a few minutes more, and I'll prove to you that you can do this. You're finally going to drive off that Ursa Major after all, but please, just trust me enough to listen.”

She bit her lip, and rocked from side to side on her hooves, but a few seconds later: “Talk quickly.”

“Now, listen. No one here is prepared for an Ursa Major attack, from the police to the hospitals to the bucket brigade, which means it's never happened. Why would that be?”

“Because they're—”

“Peaceful creatures, obviously. But look at this one's eyes.”

Trixie peered at the looming Ursa Major. Her eyes narrowed. “They're red. Bright red.”

“More of that almost-mind-control from last night. But something that big, I bet that's a spell you couldn't just cast once, am I right? Pretty high-maintenance?” Trixie nodded. “Which means that somewhere in Fillydelphia, the cultists are actively keeping this creature focused on attacking the city.”

“How does that help us?”

“One more question for you: Is it true that magic becomes harder at a distance?” Trixie nodded again. “There we are, then. They're looking at the bear. And let me tell you something, Trixie: there's no one in this city better qualified to make them look the wrong way at the right time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I need you to get their attention away from the bear and on you. Break their concentration as much as possible. Drive them physically away from the bear—back to their home base if you can. And I really would be much obliged if you'd save Vinyl and Octavia while you're at it, they’re probably at the base.”

“But how?”

“By doing what you do best—giving 'em the ol' razzle dazzle!”

“And what if I fail?”

“You won't.” It seemed to take Trixie a moment to believe this, but once she did she nodded in assent and undid the straps connecting her to her cart. Which reminded the Doctor: “I need to borrow your cart. Hitch me up?” He took her place beneath the harness.

“Why?” Trixie asked, even as she did up his straps with much more ease than she'd managed for her own.

“I've got some razzle dazzling of my own to do—with my trusty magic wand.” He pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and waited for Trixie to understand.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, a moment later. “Ohhh... I'm billing you for those, by the way.” She grinned.

“Don't worry, I'm on a royal pension. I can pay it.” She raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth, but he interrupted her: “Mind if I explain later? It's time to put on a show.”

She nodded, then turned and dashed toward the bear, running against the tide of ponies fleeing it. The Doctor managed to turn himself around with some difficulty, and headed for the main street leading out of the city.

Years of perfecting the finer kinds of magic had taught Trixie many things about her craft, and as she raced toward the scariest thing she'd ever seen, she decided to use one of them: the ability to sense others’ use of magic. It was hard to concentrate as she dodged the evacuating crowds, but as she got closer to the Ursa Major, it hardly mattered. Even at her most distracted she could hardly have ignored the staggering pulses of magic coming from somewhere just inside the city.

It wasn't long before she turned a corner and found the source: sixteen members of the Order, instantly recognizable by their pale blue cloaks and hoods, grouped in a four-by-four square in a side street. Their horns glowed many colors, but the glows all joined together like a red lantern above the center of the group, manifesting in regular pulses.

Trixie ducked back into her street and considered her options. On the one hoof, it doesn't look like any of them are armed. On the other... there's sixteen of them. And, she realized, I've forgotten my knife. Damn. She hesitated, pawing the ground as she searched for a good reason to leave this job to someone else and, sadly, found none. Well, she thought, gritting her teeth and looking up to the sky, time to ad lib.

She focused her magic on one particular cloud, somewhat lower than the rest. Come on down.... Once she'd gotten it down to street level without being noticed by the cultists—whose sole attention was on the Ursa Major—she charged the cloud with as much magic as she could manage. She took a moment to breathe, another to gulp, then pushed the cloud over the cultists. And now to begin. She sent one last charge to the cloud, giving it just too much to hold.

Lightning struck a cultist in the middle of the square, knocking him unconscious. The thunder sounded simultaneously, getting the attention of the remaining fifteen.

“COWER, FOOLS! RUN FROM THE MIGHT OF THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE TRIXIE!” she roared, magically amplifying her voice so it could be heard over the thunder. She did not yet reveal herself, figuring that she'd be a far sight less terrifying than what she could produce with magic.

“She's here!” one of the cultists yelled—one she recognized from the previous night. If her memory served her right, she'd knocked him cold before. Let's stoke him up.

Trixie concentrated, and summoned a pillar of what looked like fire a fair way away from the cultists. She sent it flying toward them, and couldn't resist grinning as the cultists barely dodged the illusion. “FLEE NOW,” she yelled, “LEST YOU NEVER AGAIN BE SEEN BY PONY EYES!”

Now for the coup de grace. She pictured her knife before her and concentrated, then projected multiple images of it near the square. She set the illusions spinning, and—with some effort now; this was getting to be rather difficult magic—dragged them toward the Order. It was enough for them to break formation and flee, presumably back toward their base.

Trixie followed them, always endeavoring to stay out of sight, and to keep her illusions very much in sight. She summoned fire-breathing dragons, ferocious manticores, hydras, and other stranger horrors of her own devising; disembodied chomping jaws, bloodied eyeballs, disjointed zombies that burst from the ground to grab at the cultists' hooves. It was working—they continued fleeing, and she detected none of the powerful magic she'd felt earlier—but she was pushing herself to her limit. A small part of her brain, one she was working to suppress, knew that she couldn't keep this pace and this level of magic up, and hoped to goodness that they would reach the headquarters soon.

Before long, her prayer was answered. They turned a corner and she recognized the dingy building from before, and saw the cultists running for the door. Thinking quickly, she locked the door just as they reached it. “Let us in!” the most scared of the bunch yelled, banging the door as hard as he could.

“They won't hear you.” The fifteen jumped and turned around, just as Trixie chose to reveal herself—though not without a few pieces of flair. She gave her eyes a red glow, put fangs in her mouth, and conjured up a little wind to make her cape billow behind her. It seemed to work; the cultists cowered before her. “There's no safe place for you anywhere in there. Want to know what you should do?”

The cultist who'd been yelling the most was now incapable of speech, but he managed a little shake of the head, his jaw quivering.

“RUN!” she roared. And they did, piling over themselves in their panic to escape. In a few seconds, all that remained of them was the rapid sounds of their hoofsteps.

Trixie sighed and released all her illusions. Her eyes were no longer red; they drooped as she staggered and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. That was... that was good, right? she thought—too tired to even form complete sentences in her own head. Can I be... be done now?

'And I really would be much obliged if you'd save Vinyl and Octavia while you're at it.' Trixie groaned, wishing she'd forgotten the Doctor's words—but there they were. And as she was at the Order's headquarters already, she could hardly find a reason not to try. Not that it stopped her from waiting outside the door, continuing to pant, until the door opened and a confused-looking cultist poked his head out.

“Hello?” he said. “Guys, I heard you knocking—is anyone here?” Thanks to the hood, he seemed to have no peripheral vision: Trixie was only barely concealed by the open door, but he could not see her.

Trixie kicked the door as hard as she could manage, and as it turned out a fair bit harder than she thought herself capable of: it slammed into the side of the cultist's head with enough force to knock his lights out. She took a deep breath, then stepped over his body into the dark room beyond.

She found herself at the top of a staircase, leading into a large dark room. She could not see into the room very well, but there seemed to be several angled tables near the middle, two of which were occupied. Vinyl and Octavia. She took another step.

“Stop right where you are!” Trixie's attention was called to an angry mare near Vinyl and Octavia, and the two stallions behind her. “Do anything, and the two of them die,” she declared. At this, the two stallions magically picked up two knives from the table and pressed them under Vinyl's and Octavia's chins.

Trixie froze. She tried to think of something she could do with her magic, but her earlier effort had entirely drained her. “That's better,” the lead cultist said with some satisfaction. “Now walk down the stairs. No sudden movements.” Trixie sighed, but did as she was told. Now that she was closer, she could see the manic look in the cultist's eyes, like she was at the end of her rope.

“Good to meet you at last, Great and Powerful Trixie,” the cultist said, forcing a smug smile. “You should know that despite your best efforts, the Order will still be successful. It is nothing less than our destiny! There is nothing you can do.”

However, Trixie's attention was barely on the mare, for a little light from Vinyl's horn caught her eye—then another light from the table behind the cultists. Slowly and carefully, two large blunt instruments like fat pliers rose from the table, floating ever so slowly toward the cultists. Trixie looked back at Vinyl, who jerked her head toward the cultists, then drew her lower lip across her upper lip like a zipper.

There is something I can do, Trixie realized. The only thing, in fact. Brag.

“Fools!” she declared, gesturing magnificently at the cultists. “You truly mean to intimidate the Great and Terrible Trixie? Already Trixie has defeated the great Ursa Major, and made mincemeat of your precious Order of Four. Beware, lest you suffer the same fate!”

“You know nothing!” the cultist spat. “Even as we speak, the bear is destroying the city. We merely await the government's unconditional surrender.”

“The bear you were controlling with sixteen unicorns? No more, for the Great and Terrible Trixie has just dispersed those cowards with the greatest of ease!”

“Liar!” the mare yelled, her eyes still fixed on Trixie.

“And I can do worse to you, you loathsome hag. Leave this place and never be seen again!” Just a little longer, Trixie thought.

“No! You are powerless!” The mare forced a laugh, and her two henchmen joined in hesitantly. “Even if what you say is true, you still cannot save your friends!”

Trixie smirked, and dropped the pompous tone she'd been using. “Did you expect me to?”

The mare frowned. “What did you say?”

“You've seen too few magic shows. A magician's job is to make you look away, while the assistant does the real work.”

Before the cultists had time to grasp the importance of these words—

CLONK

Vinyl swung the heavy pliers at the back of the henchmen's heads, knocking them out. The knives fell from her and Octavia's throats to land in a clatter on the ground. “And that's thing four!” Vinyl yelled, as the mare looked around in horror to see her cohorts unconscious. “You forgot about how I can use magic, you stupid friggin' idiots!”

All traces of arrogance fell away from the mare's face as fast as her cohorts had. She squealed and ran for the stairs—but Vinyl was quicker. She threw one of the pairs of pliers at the mare and struck her in the leg, sending her to the ground with a scream of pain.

“Easy peasy,” Vinyl spat, her horn glowing anew. The straps attaching her and Octavia to the tables undid themselves, and the two fell to the ground. “Are you okay?” she asked Octavia.

“I'm fine.”

“Then let's get Miss Bitchy over here into some straps.” Vinyl walked to the lead cultist, who was still moaning on the floor, and hauled her onto her own back.

As Vinyl returned to the tables, Octavia turned to Trixie and smiled. “Thank you so much. If you hadn't come here—”

“Actually, why'd you show up, Trix?” Vinyl interjected, dropping the mare onto the table in a less than delicate fashion. “No offense, but I was kinda expecting Brownie—told these guys he'd be coming and everything... and I just interrupted you again,” she said, turning back to Octavia even as her horn lit up to secure the straps. “Slow to learn, I guess. Sorry. But where's the Doctor? What's he doing?” she finished, casually punching the mare in the side of the head as she tried to struggle; the cultist went limp.

“The Doctor!” Trixie yelled. In all the excitement, she'd practically forgotten about him. “He's, um, he's....” Suddenly, now that she didn't have to keep up any facade of confidence, she felt incredibly tired. It was like the most stressful show of her life had just finished. “Well, he's....”

“Excuse me, coming through!” the Doctor yelled, hoping but not really expecting that a path for him and the cart might clear in the fleeing crowds. The Ursa Major was only lumbering along, but thanks to its incredible size—the Doctor estimated it to be two hundred feet tall—it was approaching at an astonishing rate. He really wanted to get beyond it before it started crushing the city, and before he'd gotten exhausted from pulling this dreadfully heavy cart. I don't know how Trixie's managed it all these years—but then again, she wasn't trying to run.

He was only a few dozen yards away when the bear's massive purple foot came down and crushed a home in one fell swoop. The Doctor swore inwardly, and hoped that the ponies living there had evacuated. The crowd was thinning now that he was at the city outskirts; he could run without impediment.

As the Ursa was taking its second lumbering step into the city, the Doctor finally got beneath it. Hobbling along on three legs, he used his fourth to reach into his pocket, grab his sonic screwdriver, and place it in his mouth. As he ran beyond the Ursa, he clamped down on the screwdriver's button, and only a moment later heard a fizzing sound in the cart behind him.

A salvo of fireworks shot out from the cart's inside, flying up and backwards into the sky—and directly into the Ursa's back, where they exploded in a blaze of colors and scorched the bear's fur. It wounded the bear about as seriously as a mosquito might have, but the Doctor was aiming not to leave any lasting damage. The question is, does it hurt?

Another incredible roar filled the air, but this one was angrier than the first. The Doctor just managed to keep his focus against the wall of sound, and increased his pace. Oh yes, it hurts rather a lot. And now things get interesting.

As the Doctor watched over his shoulder, the bear dropped down onto all fours—crushing several more houses beneath its feet—and turned itself around with worrying agility. Gone was the lumbering gait; its angry red eyes were now focused on one very specific, very annoying target.

If the Doctor hadn’t still been holding the sonic in his mouth, he might have grinned. Been too long since I had a good run. He sped up, and so did the bear, which made a terrific leap forward. Its front paws slammed into the ground like giant movers of earth mere feet behind the cart.

The Doctor desperately fired off another volley of fireworks as the bear reared back for another jump. This time they hit the Ursa between the eyes, causing it to roar in pain and swipe at its face with its claws to try to get the fire out. The Doctor used this borrowed time to dash further across the fields and to a section of train line the Ursa had smashed into bits. Carefully, not wanting to upset Trixie's cart, he crossed the train line and continued running just as the bear regained enough control to see. It remained on its hind legs, apparently not wishing to take more fireworks to the face, and lumbered toward the Doctor as he entered the Everfree Forest.

The Doctor followed the same stampede trail he'd used that morning, but now with much more urgency. Every time the Ursa got too close for comfort he shot off more fireworks to strike its body, slowing it down for a moment as it rubbed the burned fur in discomfort. But every time it came at him again, it moved a little slower, and its eyes were a little less red, a little more yellow. Good on you, Trixie. Wherever you are, you're doing brilliantly.

The Doctor chewed his screwdriver again, and heard nothing. He'd used up every single firework in the cart. Rats. He looked up to see the bear looming over him, but now there was no more red in its eyes, no more anger in its face. Now it looked confused, and hurt, and scared.

Panting with exhaustion, the Doctor dropped the screwdriver from his mouth and turned around so he could face the bear.

“I don't know if you can understand me!” he yelled, craning his neck to look into its eyes. “I don't even know if you can hear me down here, but I'm sorry to have hurt you! I know you didn't want to attack the city, but I had to get your attention.”

The bear cocked its head, as if it were listening. The Doctor fervently hoped that it was. “You don't have to do any of this!” he continued. “You can go back to your home, wherever it is in this forest, and sleep! Dream of peace, and leave peace to the city! Please, just go home!”

For what felt like the longest time, he and the bear stood still. The Doctor wondered whether his words were having any effect. Perhaps they hadn't. But suddenly, the bear began to move, raising its right hind leg.

If it still wants to crush me, I won't be able to move fast enough, the Doctor realized. He didn't have enough strength left to pull himself and Trixie's cart away, so he simply closed his eyes and hoped.

A second later, he heard a massive footfall—but felt nothing. He opened his eyes to see the bear stepping over him, and continuing on into the forest. From its throat he heard a growl that sounded almost like a yawn. The Doctor gazed up at the bear’s retreating form and, suddenly, was able to appreciate the improbable majesty of the beast before him.

It was the night sky turned animate. Constellations swirled and undulated in time with the bear’s steady pace, forming into every shape imaginable. The massive body seemed to bathe its surroundings in the violet light of dusk, as it continued on to the horizon like a stately vessel of the sea—until it sank into the the trees and was visible no more.

He had forgotten how beautiful monsters could be.

“Hey, look who it is!” As the Doctor pulled the cart into the town square, Vinyl ran up to him and rubbed his back vigorously. Octavia and Trixie were not far behind her, and a rather large crowd of ponies was not far behind them. Hundreds of them milled about in the town square, calling out for friends and family, and in most cases quickly finding one or the other.

“Trix says you actually attacked a star bear with fireworks?” Vinyl asked, as Trixie used her magic to unhitch the Doctor. He nodded in response, not quite feeling up to verbalization. “Dude, high hoof!” Vinyl exclaimed, raising a hoof. The Doctor dragged his own front hoof into the air and struck it, then flinched as a ray of sunlight burst into his face. In the skies above, the regular weather patrol was quickly clearing out the clouds.

“Trixie was marvelous,” Octavia said. “She defeated the Order all by herself!”

“Yes, Trixie was magnificent.” Trixie replied, basking in the praise. “Though it must be said that I had some very competent assistants.”

“Competent?” Vinyl snorted. “I’ll have you know I knocked out three of them myself!”

“And how would you have done so without my help?”

“Sheesh, I was just joshing ya. You did good, Trix.” Vinyl clapped a hoof on Trixie's back. “You know, you should perform at one of our shows some time.”

“Or you at one of mine,” Trixie retorted.

“Baby, you couldn't afford me.” Vinyl laughed, then pointed beyond Trixie. “And look who else it is! Miss Bitchy herself!”

The Doctor looked in the direction she was indicating to see the Order's leader being dragged through the town square by two police-stallions. She didn't resist them, and seemed a bit punch drunk. Similar police pairs followed behind, dragging three more cultists. “Heh, I did good too,” Vinyl chuckled.

But the Doctor's attention didn't stay on those cultists for long. As he watched the police march past a side street, the crowd shifted, and another stallion came into view, wearing the same hooded robe as the other cultists. He watched them get marched past—then, as if some cue had alerted him to the Doctor's presence, he looked up, locked eyes with the Doctor across the crowd, and grinned.

“Doctor?” Octavia asked, as the Doctor started to move. He dashed through the crowd, trying to catch the cultist, but it was no use; as the Doctor ran, he winked and disappeared into the throng. The Doctor reached the side street and found only his hooded robe lying on the ground. It would be impossible to find him now.

“Doctor, what is it?” Octavia was beside him a second later; Vinyl and Trixie were still bantering in the square.

The Doctor picked up the robe and held it to Octavia, whose eyes widened. “He was just watching,” the Doctor said, his mind working furiously. He’d recognized the cultist—or he thought he had, for a moment—but that was absurd. “I know I didn't see him earlier with the rest of the Order... why was he just watching?”

“Another small scale?” Octavia suggested, then frowned. “Wait, we spoke with the Order at their headquarters. The mare called what they did last night a test.”

“Testing what?” The Doctor ran a hoof through his hair. What else can they possibly do now? “Maybe it's just a sign,” he thought out loud. “That we haven't seen the last of them. Ugh.” He pulled a face. “I hate recurring villains. Never know when to quit.”

He frowned for a few more seconds, then pulled his face together into a smile. “Still, no reason to mope about—we've pretty well routed them this time, haven't we!”

“And saved the city,” Octavia replied, a smile coming onto her face as well. “We seem to be making a habit of it.”

“No, you're making a habit of it. Mine comes pre-made.” The two of them walked back to Vinyl and Trixie, who were still conversing.

“No, I mean it,” Vinyl was saying, apparently unaware of the Doctor's and Octavia's brief absence. “We've got a show to put on in a few hours, now that the city isn't all crushed, and you were gonna do another show anyway, right? Come and perform. You'll get a cut. And maybe we can do some alone time afterward...” It had been years since the Doctor had seen a grin as inappropriate as the one that grew on Vinyl’s face.

“Ignoring the shocking impropriety of that last sentence—”

“Worth a shot.” Vinyl pouted.

“How big of a cut?” Trixie asked, a bit of a gleam in her eye.

“I'll let my much more intelligent business partner deal with that, if you don't terribly mind?” Vinyl patted Octavia on the back.

“Not at all,” Octavia replied, still smiling.

“And after that,” the Doctor interjected, “I am going to have to ask a favor.” Trixie gave him a questioning look, and he continued, “The Ursa stomped right through the train line, so our tickets home are basically null and void... sorry, but would you mind giving us a lift?” Trixie was now looking at him like he was crazy, so the Doctor added, “We can take turns pulling.”

She raised her eyebrow, considering the possibility. “Perhaps... but only if you agree to do something for me.”

Twilight Sparkle had no idea what sort of day she'd been expecting. However, watching from her second-floor window as a familiar cart pulled into Ponyville, she could be certain that she wouldn't have that sort of day. What could Trixie be doing back in Ponyville? she wondered. She can’t be looking to put on another show, can she? She decided to go outside and see.

Upon leaving her library, Twilight found that she was hardly the only one taking this course of action. Word of mouth was spreading like wild fire—“You're never gonna believe this—remember that Trixie from the other year? Well, she's back!”—and when the cart opened a few minutes later, it opened in sight of what seemed like half the town.

“WELCOME, ONE AND ALL! COME WITNESS THE SPECTACULAR SHOW OF THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE, VANQUISHER OF THE MIGHTY URSA MAJOR!” She appeared on stage in a cloud of smoke, just as she had years ago, with the same confidence she'd always displayed.

“Yeah, right!” Twilight looked up to see Rainbow Dash in the air, yelling down at Trixie. “You said that the last time you came here, and guess what! It wasn't true then either!” Twilight felt about the same way.

A tomato flew over Twilight's head at Trixie. Twilight only had time to flinch at the spray of juices it would inevitably create—only for Trixie to halt it in the air, then gently set it on the ground below. A little smirk appeared on her face, but otherwise she hardly reacted to this affront. Old Trixie would have thrown the tomato right back.

Trixie produced a red sheet of fabric from mid-air. “And now for my first trick...” she announced, waving the fabric around the stage with practiced ease. Then she brought it to the floor of the stage, slowly drew it up—then ripped it into tatters, revealing the Doctor, Vinyl and Octavia behind it.

As if against its better judgment, the crowd began to applaud this rather impressive summons. “Thank you, thank you,” the Doctor called, as Vinyl and Octavia jumped down into the audience and, oddly enough, started passing out newspapers. “And for those of you who still doubt Trixie’s story—well, we can vouch for her this time.”

A newspaper dropped in front of Twilight. TRAVELING MAGICIAN STOPS TERROR CULT read the headline, written above a black and white picture of a massive... Ursa Major. Well, I’ll be darned.

“Indeed!” Trixie declared, producing a magic wand from thin air and waving it in the air. A shadow fell across the stage. “Picture it, citizens of Ponyille. It was, at first, a day like any other...”

Twilight had to admit: She was good.