//------------------------------// // Bargaining // Story: The Five Stages of Grief with Trixie Lulamoon // by Curly Q //------------------------------// A savvy showpony knows the value of an impromptu stage. As far as the aesthetics are concerned, our vengeful villainess is not so entirely repulsed by the crumbling overgrowth that is the Everfree Ruins. The décor kept by the former castle's amorphous tenant (floating azure torches, shadows cast without bodies, eyes and teeth hovering in the encroaching darkness) is certainly impressive, if a bit out of season, though come Nightmare Night, Trixie can see it making one heck of a haunted house. The current literal haunting aside. “And if that wasn’t bad enough,” the unicorn snarls, “that cyan ingrate had the audacity to throw me out! Me! That’s the last time I try to help put out any fires. Philistines.” “PRAY TELL,” rumbles the roiling miasma of Nighmare Spirits in a thousand whispering shrieks, “WAS IT NOT THOU WHOM BLUNDERED INTO THE CANDELABRA, ‘FORE THINE ABRUPT EJECTION?” “Slander! I was sabotaged! Somepony deliberately left that rug where I would trip over it! Anyway, it doesn’t matter; the point is that Sparkle’s a whiny clod and she needs to be dethroned!” “THINE ANGER BLEEDS ACROSS THE WRETCHED HYMN, AS SWEET AS NECTAR FROM THE FLOWER. YOURS IS A DARK TASK, AND THOU HAST CHOSEN WISELY IN SEEKING US OUT THAT IT MAY BE DONE.” Trixie wisely omits the fact that empowering herself with Nightmare energy was a low option on an ever shrinking list of formulae in regard to the execution (no pun intended) of regicide. (In her defense, the plan to steal the Element of Magic and drop the moon on Sparkle’s head had been proceeding swimmingly, until some twit with an ape fetish had attempted and botched the same thing last week). “You’ve subdued an alicorn before,” says Trixie, “I’m sure you could do it again.” “WITH GUSTO! WE LONG TO SEE TWILIGHT SPARKLE CRUSHED ‘PON THE GROUND, HER SERFS PROSTRATED BEFORE US IN A FUTILE PLEA OF MERCY! GLADLY SHALL WE AID THEE, SORCERESS, AND IN TANDEM WITNESS THE TRIUMPHANT END OF THINE HUMILATIONS!” “I've had quite enough of those, thank you.” “ ‘TIS SETTLED, THEN! COMMIT UNTO TO OUR HOST THINE SOUL AND WE SHALL GRANT THEE THE POWER TO VISIT RUINATION ‘PON THY ENEMIES!” Silence. Several moments pass. A warbling croak emanates from the ancient mass, perhaps tantamount to an awkward cough. “My soul,” Trixie repeats. “INDEED,” echoes the Nightmare, a tendril of seething pitch reaching out. Curled within its grasp is a yellowed scroll, a gentle flick unfurling the parchment to reveal names and titles in dialects and symbols that the unicorn has never seen in even the oldest of museums. “THE CHRONICLE NAMES ALL THAT CAME BEFORE AND ALL THAT BEAR THE MARK OF THE DESTROYER. TO WIELD OUR POWER IS TO KNOW DIVINITY, AND ONLY BY SIGNING THYSELF WHOLLY TO OUR MAJESTY CAN THE BARGAIN BE SEALED.” Trixie blinks. She considers that train of thought. Decides she doesn’t like what she sees. Then she lights her horn and conjures up a quill, adding to the parchment in a series of neat, cramped strokes. The tentacle retracts, and the Nightmare swells. “AN ACCORD IS STRUCK! WE WELCOME YOU, RAINBOW DASH, TO THE FOLD! THOU SHALL KNOW THE GLORY OF OUR FULL POWER, BEGINNING WITH THY LIBERATION FROM THE PEASANT NAME GRANTED BY THINE UNKNOWING AND COLORBLIND DAM!” Trixie might have taken time to snicker and note it was the small things that made life worth living, but considering her tiny pony body is suddenly filling with a transformative animus of the Nightmare, she’s more concerned with how every molecule of her being appears to be on exploding. When the screaming finally stops (a full three minutes after she’s done changing) the spirits, skulls, torches, and Trixie are all gone. The ruins of Everfree are now occupied by a regal onyx unicorn as tall as Luna, with a roiling silver mane and tail as fine as mist. Eyes of the deepest violet, with draconic slits for pupils, open, and she bares her fangs in a malevolent grin of triumph. The demon formerly known as Trixie rears, cackling as the sky spontaneously roars with lightning. “Beware, Twilight Sparkle,” the witch crows, “For Trixie is no more! There is only the Great and Powerful NIGHTMARE GLAMOUR!” Some miles away, in Ponyville, a purple alicorn is concerned with the sound of approaching thunder, and wonders if Rainbow Dash had forgotten to inform them of a scheduled storm. Rainbow is more concerned with the fact that her hooves are now cloven and she seems to be belching fire.