With Good Intentions

by Hustlin Tom

Chapter 10

It was early morning, so early in fact that it was still dark outside. Bunsen Burner sat in his study browsing over one of his many books on arcane knowledge by candlelight. He was impressed with Trixie’s progress in combat, and she was already showing a greater understanding of the basics than he had expected, what with her only being under his tutelage for a month. Although an achievement, he had his suspicions as to why she was so successful: she had a score to settle, and a great deal of motivation towards the confrontation she was striving for.

Ms. Sparkle of course, he silently mused, then furrowed his brow, That must be rectified.

Compiling the lessons he had initially planned in his mind for the young mare, he made note to himself that while he had initially planned on teaching her magic at a much later date, this might be the perfect opportunity to address the issue, while also giving his charge a taste of the arcane she had been wanting all along.

“This must be handled a little more delicately than normal,” he murmured to himself, “A hooves off approach. She must come to her own conclusions.”

He snorted in frustration; he would have preferred the more direct method, but the mind is after all a more delicate instrument than he was used to handling, he knew that better than most. This alternative would hopefully work. It was left to the capricious hooves of fate. He closed the tome before him softly, and then stood from his desk. He hoped the both of them were ready for what he needed to do next.

---

“Today marks the beginning of your magic training,” Bunsen declared.

Trixie had initially been trying to blink the sleepiness out of her eyes as she came into their arena hall, but she was most definitely wide awake now. She had been looking forward to this, certainly, but since the old stallion hadn’t given any indication of when it would happen, she had simply pushed it to the back of her mind.

She blinked once again, staring in surprise at him, “Really?”

“Indeed,” he replied, “I think you’re more than ready to commence this part of your training.”

“So how is this going to work exactly,” she asked in confusion as she slowly leaned left and right on her hooves, “Are you going to bring in a unicorn friend to teach me?”

“Under normal circumstances I most certainly would,” he replied as he sat down in his chair, propped his back hooves up on a nearby stool, and opened his magic book from a few hours previous, “but everyone I trust is too far away to do this for me. For now, I will teach you.”

Trixie brought up a hoof, her mouth flying open as she took a breath in, then she pointed at him and closed her mouth, her eyes narrowing incredulously.

Bunsen nodded knowingly, “It’s not ideal I know, but I have epistemic knowledge of how magic works. With my understanding and your ability we’ll make one excellent unicorn.”

“This is like a deaf pony teaching music,” Trixie exclaimed flatly.

“Nothing’s impossible,” the old stallion replied, “After all, look at Beethooven.”

Setting his book down behind him on his chair, he nudged his hoof stool closer to her. He then spoke as he trotted to behind his chair, “Now, given your aptitude for stage magic and illusions, perhaps we will start off with something challenging but within your grasp.”

He then opened a small box containing ten vials and selected one with his mouth before trotting over to stand in front of her once again.

Trixie puffed out her chest subconsciously and smiled as she took a seat, “What is that you wish for the Great and Powerful Trixie to do?”

He moved the vial over to the side of mouth so he could speak more clearly, “I want you to create a fireworks display with your magic; really, any kind will do. I want to see your technical ability first before I ask any more of you.”

Trixie’s confident persona visibly wilted, and she brought her right hoof up to rub her left foreleg awkwardly, “I uh, didn’t actually do most of the pyrotechnics in my shows; they were just regular fireworks, no magic at all.”

Bunsen Burner’s looked away for a moment as he took in the information, but then looked her straight in the eye, “I believe you can do it. What have you learned about failure in your time with me?”

“It is our teacher,” Trixie replied.

“And it’s the only way we can be certain of our knowledge,” he finished for her. He gestured with his hoof and nodded, “Try,” before taking two steps back to give her space.

The showmare, unsure of herself at first, reviewed her mental catalogue of all the fireworks she could remember. She finally settled on one, and then looked up to her teacher.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he declared.

Trixie focused herself, letting all the nervousness flow out of her, closing her eyes as she did. When she felt centered, she opened them again, and her horn lit up. A spark flew up to the ceiling with a small whine, reached its apex a few feet away from a nearby chandelier, and popped. A magenta firework burst to life, creating a halo as it spun rapidly in the air, fizzling merrily as it descended. As it came closer to the both of them, the firecracker wobbled in the air, much like a top about to lose its balance.

“Stabilize it: smooth as a record” the old stallion demanded as he circled her, assessing her body language.

She tensed up, braced her back hooves against the floor, and poured more power into her horn. The firework became marginally flatter in its rotation, but the most obvious change was the increase in intensity of its light. Trixie gritted her teeth and snorted in frustration even as she squinted to look at her creation, and ramped up the magic going out to it.

Bunsen saw her joints begin to lock in place, her muscles spasming in erratic patterns. This was not healthy spellcasting.

“You can stop now,” he declared as he noticed her left ear begin to twitch, beads of sweat forming on her forehead, and her tail twitching back and forth moodily.

“No,” she replied in annoyance, “I can make it work.”

The firecracker’s intensity had increased to the point of it being a bright white corona, but it was now beginning to falter, wobbling up and down. Finally, Trixie reached her limit, and with a cry she was forced to let go of her enchantment. The firework exploded like a cloud of manganese dust, blinding her and scattering hot pink flames down on them. As the wisps landed they began to eat into the varnish of the oak wood floor.

Bunsen ripped the cork out of the vial he had been holding in his mouth, and cast its contents across the flames. Where the particles landed the flames abruptly snuffed out, leaving only a charred finish and a few black spots beneath.

“It’s not fair,” Trixie yelled with pent up frustration even as she curled up on the floor, where she had been tossed after the explosion of light. Her forehooves covering her eyes from the whiteness imprinted on them, “I know I can do it! I know I can, but I messed it up! It’s not right! Nothing’s been right since her!”

Bunsen Burner looked down at his student, considering her words. Finally he made his decision.

“I think we’re done for today,” he said softly.

“No, please,” she said as she tried to reach towards his voice, her eyes not completely registering where he was, “I can do better than this. Please just give me another chance!”

“I will, but it will be tomorrow,” he replied solemnly, “right now it is not safe for you to continue, physically or emotionally.”

She continued to lie on the floor, now sobbing softly as she remained overwhelmed by her own emotions, memories, and the whiteness. Bunsen gently reached down and guided her up into his chair, helping her to lean back into it. He then quietly left her to recuperate there, all the while thinking to himself, This is going to be more difficult than I had imagined.

---

The next day arrived, and Trixie was decidedly more somber than she had been. Her mane was frazzled, as she hadn’t bothered to do anything with it. She was still tired in every sense of the word, even after a night’s worth of sleep.

She is broken, was all Bunsen could think to himself initially. She looked very similar to the first day they had met, though the fear and false aloofness was replaced by depression and anger.

She is broken, he thought again to himself, but he thought further, Now it is time to reforge her.

“Today we’re going to focus on the three pillars of magic,” he tried to begin, but Trixie audibly huffed.

“You’re doing this because you think I’m weak, don’t you,” she asked miserably.

“I’m doing this because I want you to be the best that you can be,” he replied, “The methods you were using yesterday were unsafe, and you need to have the right education to use your magic effectively.”

She had no response to this, so she remained silent.

“Shall I continue,” he asked.

“Yes please,” she mumbled.

Bunsen then tapped the floor with his left hoof, each of them acting as emphasis for a word he immediately spoke, “Belief. Will. Harmony.” He paused to let them sink in before continuing, and as he began to lecture he slowly paced back and forth, “These are the fundamentals of a unicorn’s magic. Belief is your confidence in your own ability to perform your magic. It is defined by its absence: having little or no belief in your ability to perform a task will make it difficult if not impossible to do so, a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts.”

Trixie was trying her best to absorb the lesson, but the abstract nature of it was already starting to lose her. She sighed a little. Seeing he was losing his audience’s attention, Bunsen quickly thought of how best to change tactics. Perhaps what was best needed here was an analogy of sorts. As his eyes scanned the room for anything that might help, his gaze fell onto the hall’s fireplace and an object there on the mantelpiece.

“Magic is very much like an oil lamp,” he exclaimed as he nodded his head a little.

One of the mare’s eyebrows cocked as she looked up from her glazed trance to her would be instructor, “What?”

“Yes,” he exclaimed more to himself than her as he trotted over to grab his object lesson, “A controlled flame requires three things: materials to burn, a balanced mixture of fuel and air, and a spark.” He then brought the lamp to her and gently set it down in front of her. “Your belief is what acts as the stand and glass for the fuel and wick inside,” he offered as he gestured to each in turn, “No faith, no flame.”

He pointed to her, “You should have more confidence in yourself. You have great potential, and you should not squander it by thinking you aren’t good enough to accomplish your task.” He smirked with a determined look in his eye, “I’ve heard of the things the Great and Powerful Trixie can do, and the pony I see before me has surpassed even what she can achieve.”

Trixie stared at her teacher in a shocked state; her eyes that had once looked tired and worn were reinvigorated with an astonished sense of wonder.

“You can rise higher,” he continued, “Aspire to greatness; the only thing holding you back is yourself.”

“So what is the spark?” Trixie asked. It seemed she was now better able to focus on what the earth pony was trying to teach her.

“The spark is your willpower,” a discrete smile appeared on his face, “and from what I saw yesterday you have more than enough for five unicorns. Right now, however, that is part of what’s holding you back. Having no proper training, you settled into a pattern of brute force when it comes to magic, and doing so puts a great deal of stress on your body and mind.”

Trixie nodded as she took in the information, accepting the analysis, and then looked back to Bunsen, “And the last thing was fuel?”

“Fuel and air,” he corrected gently, “With all the oil in the world you still wouldn’t have a combustion reaction if you had no oxygen to help ignite it. You need harmony within yourself in order for your own magical reactions to work.”

“Okay, but what does it mean to have harmony within myself,” Trixie asked with some rather obvious impatience.

“It means that you are at peace with yourself, by leaving all negative emotions behind. Like I said, the only thing holding you back is yourself. If you have any deep seated regrets, over accentuated guilt, or hatred, it is holding you down, keeping you stuck in the past. The only way forward is to release yourself, and embrace a new you.”

Trixie’s expression of excitement slowly turned into a glare as she listened to the old pony talk. After he had finished, she silently fumed as she internally battled over what she wanted to do. She had been humiliated. She had been destroyed. She couldn’t go anywhere without being reminded of what she had experienced in Ponyville. How was she supposed to be able to get past that? Even now when she was undoubtedly hundreds of miles away Twilight Sparkle was still thwarting her, keeping her from what she wanted most.

“Do you remember a time before what happened to you,” Bunsen Burner’s voice pierced through her inner tumult.

“Of course I do,” she snapped, “I lived two decades before it.”

“You didn’t have any trouble casting then I expect,” his voice continued as her consciousness tumbled through her past, “What brought you inspiration? What brought you peace?”

Her thoughts then began to slow, and her memories pooled before her, in each one there was one constant figure. She watched her every performance, every grandiose gesture. She watched her stumble as she took her first bow, and she helped her up when she scuffed herself during her fall. She read to her the exploits of Hoofdini, and his amazing tricks.

“Even after she passed away, you found a peace. Ms. Sparkle is not the personification of tragedy; that’s simply what you’ve associated with her.”

She took a breath and objectively looked back on that day using the mindset she had been taught for self-defense. Why had she failed? She had claimed to have fought off an Ursa Major: a large boast, one which offered great risk when trying to seem credible, especially later when those idiot colts brought an Ursa Minor to town. She had lost her cool to hecklers: she’d had them in the past, so she should have been able to deal with them properly. Her wagon and supplies were destroyed in the beast’s rampage later that night: if she had never claimed to be able to deal with it the circumstances would not have taken place. The Ursa Minor was returned to its den, at the expense of her career, her public image, and her wagon. Twilight Sparkle saved the day, and she was an outcast, but-

Her analysis faltered.

But-

Frustration was overwhelming her, denial numbed her to what she needed to know, what embarrassment was trying to keep from her.

None of those things she lost would have been that way had she acted beyond her immediate best interests.

Twilight was not the root cause of her problems.

She had caused her own suffering.

She pulled back once again to the waking world, seeing her teacher waiting expectantly for her to say something. She shook her head, and trotted out of the room with a shaky announcement of “I need air.”

She half ran back to her room and slammed the door behind her. Her thoughts were cluttered. Her feelings were eating her up from the inside as she couldn’t decide how she felt. Was this revelation of hers actually correct? It couldn’t be. She didn’t want it to be. To think that she had wasted months, almost a year of her life, on account of her own mistakes made her feel destitute. She could never get those days back.

She stumbled over to the mirror, and for a moment was shocked to see the pony inside: a mare with a frumpy, unkempt mane, with puffy eyes and a faded blue coat. She was so shocked that she slowly reached up to the mare, before turning that hoof back towards her own face, and saw the reflection follow her actions.

This was who she was. She had allowed herself to become this.

She quickly turned away and tossed herself onto her bed. She buried herself deep beneath the covers, trying to find some sense of warmth, safety, and security in them. She was looking for stability, anything that would make it seem like everything was going to be alright. Her whole world felt like it was beginning to crumble, and that this was the last stroke. Everything was crashing down around her now.

She shunned the light of the sun, and threw her top comforter over her head. She began to cry all over again, and this time she didn’t have something to fight, somepony easy to blame. She felt all alone, and she didn’t know what to do.

Bunsen Burner listened silently to her weeping outside her door.

“Be strong, Ms. Lulamoon,” he murmured, he wasn’t sure to who, “You can make it through this. Be strong…Trixie.”

---

When she opened her eyes Trixie found herself still within the comfortable nest of her sheets. She was able to eventually disentangle herself from them, and she found that during her time in her impromptu exhaustion nap she had managed to unmake the bed completely; its comforter tossed to the floor, and the sheets ripped from under the bed. Moonlight now seeped into her room, its cool colored illumination helping to calm her. She figured it was perhaps ten in the evening.

She felt different, somehow a bit lighter than she had when she entered the room. She once again approached her mirror, almost dreading what sort of mare she would find within its reflection. The moonlight wasn’t close enough to the mirror to let her see her face; all she could see were the outlines of her features, while the rest was murky, undecided. She lit her horn. She was still the same mare; same mane, coat, and eyes. Yet, this time there was something more. Her eyes were clear, her irises a striking violet very similar to a summer’s dusk.

She looked up at her mane. She needed to groom herself. At first she stopped since she knew there was no brush nearby. Then she knew what she had to do. Her insecurity that she wouldn’t be able to do it was squashed by her new thoughts: she could do it, and she would.

Her horn’s light blurred a little, and a blob slowly took shape from the ether. A handle and frame formed, and then small bristles with teardrop-like nubs appeared on the end. Trixie joyfully gazed up at her newly created construct. Its glow. Its shape.

“It’s absolutely perfect,” she whispered as her eyes became misty.

She then slowly put it to her mane and meticulously began to draw it through her strands. This simple act, one taught to her many years ago by her mother, now had a greater sense of significance. She felt like she had rediscovered magic all over again, like this was her first time ever doing it. She felt like she was going to cry all over again too, but this time the tears of happiness she felt stayed inside. They flowed down into her heart and opened something that had been closed up for a long time. After a while she was done, and the hairbrush vanished. Under her light magenta hue she looked at herself once again. She looked like her normal self, and she felt even better than normal.

Look at you, my beautiful little filly, she felt she heard her mother’s voice in her mind say, You’re ready. Now go out there tonight and knock’um dead!

She smiled to herself, and whispered to the night air, “I will, mom. I love you.”

---

Trixie opened her door with determination, and was about to stride out into the hallway when she noticed a tray at her hooves. Perplexed, she looked down and saw that upon it sat a plate with a daisy and lettuce sandwich, garnished with parsley. She realized that Bunsen must have left this for her in her sleep, and the gesture touched her greatly. She galloped off down the hallway, not sparing the food another glance: she had a show to perform, and she had to find her audience! She had a feeling that she might find him in his study, though the possibility of her teacher being asleep crossed her mind, which made her think further that she had no idea where his room was at all in this mansion. She searched the arena hall, the kitchens, the basement, but he was nowhere to be found. The only other room she knew of that he might be in was the study. She had to show him how she had changed, and what she could do.

Galloping down the hallway, almost out of breath, she didn’t even bother to knock on the door, but instead swung it open without warning. In the study she found Bunsen Burner at his desk. He had once again been reviewing magical scholastics, his face stuck in a scowl as he browsed the words of the thick books: when she entered however his attention snapped upward, and after he had overcome his initial surprise the lines across his face softened.

“There’s something I need to show you,” she said breathlessly. She could tell that he was about to protest, but she stopped him by blurting out, “No! Please, just trust me. I can do this.”

The old earth pony was going to argue the point, but he observed that there was something altogether different about the mare. Her mood was a complete 180 degrees from what it had previously been, and there was an energetic twinkle in her eye.

He leaned back in his chair, put his hooves together, and then tapped them to his mouth, “Alright. Show me.”

The showmare was so excited that she didn’t bother to center her stance, didn’t bother trying anything she attempted to help herself out less than forty-eight hours ago; she just lit her horn, and fired away. Her firework slowly rose, and with a magenta flash popped above her. The spinning firecracker whirled in place, its pace steady, its illumination normal.

Bunsen looked up in astonishment, and adjusted his glasses delicately with his right hoof. Constant radial movement, intensity was above average but good, and it was spinning as smooth as a record. He glanced down at her. She was smiling ecstatically, and her body language showed her glee. There was no strain on her musculature, no subdermal stress or stress of any kind at all.

Trixie stuck her tongue out, and as an added flourish crystalline butterflies appeared out of the fragments of the firecracker as it disintegrated. As the lightshow faded, Bunsen couldn’t help but look at her in dumbfounded shock. How was this possible, to recover this quickly? Perhaps she was even stronger than he had thought!

Trixie trotted around the desk, and without his expecting it at all she put her hooves around him and hugged him firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and he felt wetness creep down her face and onto his neck as she held him tighter, “Thank you so much!”

All the old stallion could do was accept the embrace, and rigidly put his hooves around her, patting his right hoof on her back softly. He wasn’t sure how this had come to pass, but she had succeeded, and he caught himself doing something he hadn’t done in a very long time: smiling.

Comments

[Emperor]

While not focusing much on Bunsen this chapter, the detour to mentoring Trixie is enjoyable. Given her two-episode arc, I've always figured any story focusing on mentoring Trixie always needs to do more than just have her get over her past or make up with Twilight Sparkle, but actually go deeper than that and improve her as a pony, period, before trusting to teach her magic. Bunsen Burner tries teaching magic first, but to his credit, stops it once he realises how broken she is and instead tries to help fix her first. That he has the capacity of a wise mentor able to do this and also teach magic in spite of being an Earth Pony isn't all that surprising given his backstory so far. Of course, the fanon we've made out of Trixie has her as supremely capable of 'Getting Back on her Hooves' as it were, so it should be no surprise she does that, if a little quick.

You do need to do a little bit of editing work, though. For example, the last line of the first paragraph

Although an achievement, he had his suspicions as to why she was so successful: she had a score to settle, and a great deal of motivation towards the confrontation she was striving for.
Ms. Sparkle of course, he silently mused, then furrowed his brow, That must be rectified.

The word 'That' as the fourth last word shouldn't be capitalised.

[Hustlin Tom]

6297843
I felt that although the main character is of course Bunsen Burner, Trixie needs her own arc in this story beyond being a means of moving the narrative forward. The mare that we saw at the end of Boast Busters was one full of potential for both good and bad. When the events in our lives conspire against us it's easy to lash out at those we think ultimately responsible, especially if deep down we're trying to avoid the fact the trials we face could be of our own making. If the roles of main and supporting character had been switched, the internal dilemma Trixie faces would indeed have taken longer, and been fleshed out far more. Even so, this mare now has a foundation on which can be build a better pony, one who can learn to empathize and care for others rather than being stuck within a two-dimensional stage personality.

The chapter is also helpful I think in being a breathing point between two negatively charged emotional parts of the story: the first obviously being Bunsen's exposure to the Changeling Hive and its impact on him, as well as the years after, when tragedies will strike him and those he cares about.

Thank you so much for the thorough analysis! It's passionate readers like you that drive authors forward. Your interest and desire to see more are inspirational to me, and I hope that coming chapters will be to your liking!