Magic on the Rocks

by Violet CLM

Fissure

“Do you think we’ll sell many rocks today?”

Limestone Pie, matriarch-in-training of the Pie clan, blinked at her baby sister. She wasn’t really a baby anymore—none of them were—but in any family of sufficient size, somepony had to be the baby, and so that honor fell to Marble Pie.

Marble stood behind the other end of their cart, hammer clasped in her two front hooves as they worked to convert it into a booth for market day. She wore her baby-blue dress with the rock-patterned hem, the one that had cost the family a month’s worth of rock sales income, but even Limestone had to admit it sometimes felt worth the money when she saw Marble smiling like that. Marble was the beauty of the family, with her loving purple eyes and her stylish forelock, and any profits went to her. Limestone had accepted this long ago.

But all the love for her sister in the world couldn’t make her lie. She shook her head. “Not many.”

“But…!” Marble stopped in mid pound of the hammer to stare back at Limestone. “But we harvested the obsidian field this week, remember? Obsidian stones are so beautiful!”

“Yes, they are. But… they’re rocks.”

“Yes! We sell rocks.”

“No, we try to sell rocks. There’s a big difference.”

Silence descended over the two sisters for a while, broken only by the regular pounding of their hammers as they rearranged the last few boards of the booth/cart. Market didn’t start for another seven minutes, and all they had left to do was get the awning out of the back and hang it up, so they had plenty of time. Limestone had been working market day for many years, ever since Pa had hurt his leg on Shining Pass one day; she’d kept it up even after he’d recovered, finding that she liked the opportunity to see how other ponies lived, even if it was only for a few hours. Her oldest sister, Maud, had helped her for a while, but now she was at school, and little Marble was better with customers anyway.

Igneous Rock and Daughters: Fresh Rocks. The text on the awning was simple and blockish, painted in the same simple rock tones as the farm itself. There was no use gaudying up the sign or pretending they were selling anything more exciting than they really were. Rocks were honest; that was Pa’s philosophy, one which each of his daughters strived in her own way to uphold. Pinkie and Maud had left, knowing they were destined for things outside the farm. Limestone had stayed, knowing their parents needed her help. And Marble…

“I don’t know, I think this could be a good day! Remember Mrs. Plumsweet? She was visiting her family last week, but she should be here today, and she loves rocks!”

“She feels sorry for us, that’s all. She sees two girls standing at their booth every week, surrounded by ponies buying groceries and trying to sell them rocks instead. She gives us money so we won’t be completely miserable.”

“I’m not miserable, though. I like rocks! I like selling rocks. And even when I do get tired of rocks, I can always remember that someday the Pairing Stone will pick me and then I’ll be married.”

Limestone only shook her head. “Push up your side of the awning a bit more. It’s not level.”

There was Marble’s honesty: she wasn’t miserable. Pinkie had discovered parties one day, and somehow her twin had inherited a little of that happiness, even years after they’d both been born. Marble’s was a happiness in spite of her life, her family, her occupation, and her future, but somehow she maintained it, farming with a lighter step than Limestone ever managed and greeting their few market day customers with cheery familiarity. Limestone would never understand her sister. But she would continue to work, day and night, to make sure she always had some reason to smile.

The last ties of the awning were fastened, and the sisters retreated to arrange their obsidian stones to capture the most attention. They had twelve with them that week—not a great harvest, but the weather had been bad lately, and anyway obsidian captured higher prices than most of their wares—but a three by four grid was too simple, so they spent the remaining minutes trying out different patterns and seeing how this or that stone caught the light. Times like this, Marble had said once, were when she liked rocks the most: playing with them, making them look beautiful, not just worrying about when and how to get them out of the ground. Limestone had no strong feelings on that subject, but as ever she appreciated the chance to make Marble happy, so rearranging stones it was.

“Cherries! Fresh cherries, right off the tree!”

“Bread! Baked bread, get it while it’s hot! Free star cookie for the first twenty customers!”

“Dresses! Fancy dresses, look like the Canterlot nobility for a fraction of the price!”

Market day began at precisely noon with the typical hawking of wares from all corners, and Limestone turned to Marble, gesturing for her to do the honors. Marble smiled and cleared her throat.

“Rocks! Volcanic glass formed from felsic lava, black without crystals! Authentic rocks, lifted out of the earth and sold at bargain prices! Not food! Rocks!”

The obsidian did not sell well—even Mrs. Plumsweet only bought one, claiming the color didn’t match her décor—and Limestone spent market day staring helplessly at all the more popular stands and wondering how it would feel to make something that other ponies actually liked. Their neighboring booth sold turnips and was hardly the most popular place in the market, but the good-natured stallion running it still racked up seventeen different customers, most of whom bought more than one turnip during their visit. Then those seventeen customers hurried on through the market, barely stopping to so much as glance at Igneous Rock and Daughters: Fresh Rocks. By 3 PM, Limestone had stopped even looking up from her hooves when ponies passed their booth, and by 4 PM, Marble had given up nagging her about it. When the final bell of the afternoon struck and they started turning their booth back into a cart for the two hour walk back to the farm, neither sister had much to say. The white-coated pegasus mare running the market exit gave them a sympathetic smile as they trudged off, but Limestone couldn’t find it in herself to return it.

They stopped to rest about halfway through the pass, near the turn where Pa had hurt his leg once, and Limestone stared up at the peak of the western hill. The sun was setting behind it already, surrounding the rocky top with brilliant orange and purple sky, and beams of light hit the stones all around them and lanced off in a thousand different directions. It was a beautiful sight, and Limestone could see why old Holder Cobblestone had named this place Shining Pass and founded the farm nearby. Rocks had been exciting and new to Equestria then, in a reunified world which could finally take time to think about questions other than where their next meal was coming from, which suddenly had time for the pretty things in life.

But rocks were heavy, and you needed a large number of them to make a really attractive front yard for yourself, but then they would get in the way of all the flowers. And Equestria did have so many ponies with gardening talents. So rocks had given way to flowers for home decoration, and now they were something you maybe took the family to see every once in a while, but certainly not a major commodity. Not anymore. Even the great ‘pet rock’ boom that had brought in so much money in Limestone’s youth had been over for years.

Limestone turned to her sister. “There has to be more to rocks than rocks,” she said, and Marble laughed a little, because they both knew Limestone had said that exact line many times. Never within earshot of their parents, of course, but out here in the wilderness, with no one around but Marble and Limestone themselves, it was easy to… think. To dream.

“Plenty of ponies still make their livings on rocks,” said Marble, the next line of their familiar conversation. “Remember the famous Sandstone Sisters of Saddle Arabia. They produce the walls for half the capital’s houses, and their queen visits their quarries personally every year.”

“Mass production. We don’t do that.”

“Harry Winstallion and his diamond dogs work a mine twice as deep as Cloudsdale is high, and they sell to all the jewelry makers south of San Palomino.”

“Still mass production. You know Pa wouldn’t hear of us selling anything that isn’t hoof-grown, hoof-picked, and hoof-polished. We’re stuck selling to the local market until the day he dies.”

Marble looked up at the sky for a while. “And then?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“And then what? You’re gonna be in charge of the family someday, right?”

“I guess so.” Limestone bit her lip. “Not for a while. Pa’s still strong, and Ma too, and I’ve got you to worry about until the Pairing Stone finds somepony for you. It’s good old traditional rock farm life for me for a while yet, just like Holder Cobblestone always wanted.”

“But someday…? When I’m gone, and Ma and Pa are gone, and Maud has her degree, and Pinkie’s… whatever? When there’s nopony left for you to take care of?”

Limestone smiled coldly. “When that day comes, I’m going to leave this place and never look back.”

The next week Mrs. Plumsweet was out of town again and the sisters couldn’t make a single sale, which hurt the more because they had gone there to sell shards of limestone. Marble had given one stallion a truly inspiring explanation of all limestone’s fascinating properties, but he’d kept asking why it didn’t have any pretty sand in it, and wasn’t interested in their explanations that he was thinking of dirty limestone and theirs was only the purest quality stone possible. But he left, and nopony else was interested enough to stop at their booth before closing time at 5.

“There has to be more to rocks than rocks,” Limestone said a while later, as the familiar rock silo came into view over a bump in the road.

“Plenty of ponies still make their livings on rocks,” said Marble immediately, before stopping to decide on her next example. “What about… Sledge Hummer, the Singing Stonemason? His mines provide foundations for half the houses on the east coast, and I used to get his newsletter every month when we had regular mail delivery.”

“You only got his newsletter because you thought he was cute.”

Marble shrugged. “He is cute. You never know, if the Pairing Stone is slow enough I might just get married all on my own.”

“What, to Sledge Hummer?”

“Oh, he doesn’t even know I exist. And I don’t think I want to marry another rock pony anyway if I can help it. “

Limestone looked quizzically at her sister. This was not a usual turn in the conversation. “You’re supposed to be the one who actually likes rocks,” she said carefully. Besides Maud, of course, but Maud had always been different.

“I do! I… guess I do. Maybe.”

Limestone stopped pulling the cart, and a second later Marble noticed and stopped walking. Limestone looked her baby sister over and frowned. Marble looked… unhappy. Tired, or worried about something, or sick, she couldn’t tell, but definitely unhappier than usual. The farm had gone through rough financial patches before, Limestone remembered, but Marble hadn’t reacted this way on those other occasions. She’d stayed positive and helped the rest of the family to get back on track. So…

“What’s wrong, Marble? Moping and feeling tired of rocks is my thing.”

“Well…” Marble looked up at the sky, perhaps trying to guess how much time they had before the sun went down. Limestone waited patiently; there was no use trying to rush a rock farmer. “Well… how do you think the Pairing Stone works?”

“Huh? Magic, I think.”

“No! I mean, yes, of course. But from Ma and Pa’s stories, what do you think is actually going to happen to me? How does it work for us ponies?”

Limestone, who did not anticipate ever finding another pony so much as physically attractive, let alone romantically, hadn’t paid the most attention to the story of how their parents had met. Still, it did come up in connection with Marble increasingly often as her baby sister got older. “As they tell it… not very much, I guess,” she said. “One day you’re going to get some kind of calling to go meet somepony, and the stone will call him too. You and our parents will go meet him and his parents, and they’ll talk it over, and then you’ll get married. Right?”

“No.”

“…no?”

“No.” Marble sighed. “I thought all that too. But I talked to Ma this week. Did you know I’m actually older than she was when she and Pa got married? And, um… the Pairing Stone is actually more like the last step than the first.

“Now that Maud’s school is basically paying for itself this year, we don’t need to put the money Pinkie sends home into that anymore. So apparently, for months now, all our savings have been going into making a ‘dowry’ for me. That’s, um, a big sum of money that we’re going to offer along with me, so that somepony agrees to marry me. And at the last minute the Pairing Stone will decide whether the match is okay or not.”

Limestone stood very still, not trusting her legs to keep her upright if she tried moving them. She stared at Holder’s Bolder in the distance, that huge, ovoid symbol of all their family traditions. What other surprises was Holder, well, holding? “You’re saying,” she said slowly, not daring to look at Marble, “we’re going to pay somepony to accept you. Because we don’t think anypony would love you otherwise.”

“Not even that. We’re going to pay somepony’s parents… my new husband and I won’t even get any of the dowry to live on.”

“…I’m going to kill Pa.”

“Limestone, no!” There were suddenly hooves around her neck, but after a moment of panic, Limestone realized that Marble was only hugging her. She forced her front legs off the ground to return her baby sister’s embrace, because that was sure to fix her problems. Parents raising money to sell you? Don’t worry, Limestone will hug it all away! Feh.

“No,” Marble was saying, “don’t hurt him! It’s not his fault anyway, his or Ma’s. It’s just tradition!”

“Tradition.” Limestone did not think that was an adequate excuse for ruining her sister’s future. “So it’s Holder’s fault?”

“Oh, I don’t know whose fault it is and anyway that doesn’t matter!” Marble had buried her face in Limestone’s neck, and Limestone was alarmed to feel tears soaking into her coat. “Getting angry isn’t going to solve anything! We need to make things better, not get mad at each other.”

“Fine.” Limestone disengaged from the hug and readjusted the cart’s reins on her back, making ready to move. “So I’ll talk to Pa, without any arguing, and…”

“I’ll talk to them,” said Marble, and Limestone was so surprised that her baby sister had cut her off that she stopped and listened. “It’s my future, remember? My money, even? I want to be the one to talk to them about this.”

“But…” Limestone looked at Marble helplessly. “But I’m the eldest. I want to take care of you!”

Marble nodded, a bright fire ablaze in her purple eyes even as her tears still lingered. “I know... so I’ve got a job for you too. I want you to be happy again. I want us all to be happy again. I don’t care if we have to throw out the entire rock crop and replace it all with flowers… I want you to find a way to save the farm.”

“But our traditions…”

Marble Pie smiled at this. “Buck tradition.”

So Limestone tried. When they got back to the farm that day, neither sister breathed a word of their conversation to their parents; then, while Marble and Ma spent the next week in quiet conversation, Limestone roamed the rock fields, wondering what she could do to change their lives that Pa wouldn’t think was spitting on Holder’s grave or anything similar. She kicked at unharvested stones, stared listlessly into the barren distance, and even tried to sleep under the shadow of Holder’s Boulder, hoping their distant ancestor might somehow impart some words of advice to her. He did not. She spent a couple of hours poking through Pinkie’s supplies that they kept around for her visits, wondering if there was any money to be made in parties, but even if there was, Limestone had no idea how she would get started. Parties were not her special talent.

She considered putting aside her pride as the eldest and writing to her sisters for advice, but she doubted they would have anything useful to suggest. Pinkie had never understood rocks, and in the few years when she had lived on the farm with them, she’d felt even more miserable than Limestone did. She’d stayed only until Granny Pie had finally passed away. And Maud loved rocks, but that didn’t mean she understood how other ponies, ones who hadn’t grown up on a rock farm, related to them. No, whatever solution she found, Limestone decided she would need to think of it herself.

Of course, she’d already thought of a solution years ago: careful study of their surrounding lands, with Maud’s help while her sister had been only just beginning her studies, had revealed that they sat practically on top of an immense natural crystal depository. Ponies loved crystals. But she had failed to convince Pa to invest the money it would take to blast open an entrance to the depository, and he had never shown interest in reexamining the topic, so she would have to stick to ordinary rocks.

The answer finally came to her on Thursday evening while she lay on her back in the granite bed, staring up at the clouds shining with the sun’s light and waiting for the call to come in for stew. Sledge Hummer, Harry Winstallion, the Sandstone Sisters… yes, they worked in mass production, and that was too fundamental a transformation for Pa to ever accept. But they were able to afford those workers and quantities because they sold rocks and jewels to be used for specific purposes. Limestone couldn’t say with certainty what their occasional market day customers did with the Pie family rocks, but she assumed that outside of plain decorations, the likeliest use for individual specimens was as jewelry. But not many ponies were jewelers. So why couldn’t they cut out the middlemare and sell their rocks as jewelry directly?

Limestone couldn’t build up the nerve to bring her idea to Pa that evening, nor the next, but on Saturday, a few scant hours before she and Marble would need to go to bed in order to get to the market on time the next day, she called the family together for a meeting. She explained her plan, emphasizing that the rocks they harvested would be every bit as hoof-grown, -picked, and –polished as ever, and that they would only undergo one additional processing step before being brought to market. She laid rough concept drawings out on the dining room table and mentioned that she would be happy to incorporate designs from the rest of her family if they were interested. She gave a rough financial breakdown of the cost of materials she would need for setting their stones into and promised she would be willing to pay for them from her own personal savings if the family insisted. Then at last she sat down, sweating, and held an equally nervous Marble Pie’s hoof while their parents spoke with each other so quietly their daughters could not make out a word.

At last Igneous Rock Pie turned to her gravely. “If this be thine idea, thou hast our blessings to try.”

The next day at market, for the first time she could remember in years, Limestone abandoned their booth to Marble’s sole control and struck out among the rest of the sellers, finding and haggling for bits of gold and wire she could use over the coming week. Many of the ponies recognized her as one of “those poor rock girls” and agreed to give her discounts, and Limestone put away her shame and accepted. She returned to Igneous Rock and Daughters: Fresh Rocks practically overflowing with confused emotions and there found that Marble had somehow managed to sell half their basalt stock in her absence. Maybe, Limestone supposed, having her gloomy face behind the booth all the time was bad for business. But that was all going to change! She had her new supplies. She had the week ahead of her to make them work. And then… and then she would find out if her idea was any good.

The last of the moonstone necklaces, cut into the shapes of lilies and set in a gold border hung from wire, were sold just after 2 PM, less than halfway through market day, and Limestone turned to look at Marble as their last customers trotted away. Marble was smiling helplessly, tears in her eyes, and Limestone could feel the same expression on her own face as they hugged each other close for lack of words to describe their success. They had sold the necklaces for more bits than the basic rocks to begin with, wanting to cover the costs of labor and other materials, and they’d even raised their prices another two times over the course of the day, and yet each time their sales had if anything increased.

“You did it,” said Marble. “Limestone, you, you… yes! This is it! You’re going to be happy now!”

“It’s only the first day,” said Limestone quickly, but she didn’t believe the warning herself. Money! Ponies had finally valued her life’s work enough to give her money! They could make enough to let Marble to do anything she wanted with her life, maybe even tell Pinkie that she could stop sending so much home and save more for herself instead! Limestone wasn’t used to… well, hope, but it was a curiously infectious feeling.

Marble too seemed to have ignored Limestone’s warning, as if she was tapped directly into her sister’s thoughts. “Just think,” she said, “we could hire somepony else to work on the farm with us! Then Ma and Pa could relax more as they get older!”

“And if you do get married, I guess I’d have somepony around to talk to.”

“Well… we’ll see.” Marble frowned for a moment and looked away. “I’m working on that. But come on, Limestone, let’s go home and celebrate! Or do you want to leave the cart as a booth for a while longer, to get ponies looking forward to next week when we’ve got more stock?”

“No, no, let’s go. I want to see Pa’s face when we tell him the news!” Limestone hugged Marble again and looked up at the awning. “You never know, maybe someday we’ll buy a separate booth that rides in the back or something, so we don’t have to do turn the cart into a booth and back again every week…”

A stranger interrupted them. “Did somepony mention the need for help with a transforming cart?”

Limestone and Marble turned to face their new visitor. The mare—she’d had a mare’s voice—stood a few hoof-lengths away from their booth, wearing a large thick cloak that covered all of her save for her brilliant azure front legs. Her voice had sounded proud, though Limestone couldn’t help but identify a certain element of weariness there too—unless that was just Limestone’s own life’s weariness seeping into her perceptions.

Marble looked at her uncertainly before turning to the cloaked figure. “Um… I dunno if I’d really say we needed help. It’s more of a long term goal right now…”

“No worries!” The mare raised one of her azure legs to point toward the Pie sisters’ booth behind them, though this time Limestone noticed the leg was wobbling. “Trixie knows everything about carts! And you wanted to hire somepony for your farm, yes? Trixie can do anything!”

Again Marble and Limestone looked at each other, and this time Limestone tried speaking to the strange mare. “Who is this… Trixie?”

“You plebeians have never heard of the Great and Powerful Trixie!?”

Marble looked blank. “Um… no.”

“Sorry,” said Limestone.

“Oh,” said the mare, “thank goodness.” And then she collapsed to the ground.

There did not seem to be any way to wake the mare up again. Limestone was sent to find one of the ponies in charge of the market, and retrieved the pegasus mare who typically watched the exit, but she only said she didn’t think the market had any resources for fainted ponies. “It’s never been an issue,” she said. “We usually only get the happiest and healthiest ponies here.”

Limestone rolled her eyes. “Because anyone unhealthy knows you’d be no help?”

The pegasus stumbled in midstep. “Uh… I don’t know. Did you get a name? I could find a megaphone and see if anypony knows her?”

“Oh, yes. I think she called herself Trixie. The… grand, powerful Trixie? Something like that.”

“…ah.” An odd expression passed over the pegasus’s face, and she bit her lip for a few seconds before turning to look at Limestone. “I’ve heard of this Trixie,” she said. “If I were you, I would leave her where you found her and go home.”

At this the pegasus flew back to her post, and Limestone returned to Marble and the sleeping Trixie, confused but also beginning to feel quite angry. What could this pony have possibly done to justify dumping her in the dirt? Marble, when Limestone reported back to her, was similarly incensed, and after a fruitless search for other options, they ended up returning from the market with an unfamiliar azure mare unconscious in the back of the cart. Her cloak partially fell off while they were lifting her into the cart, revealing that she was a unicorn; her mane was a sort of silvery blue, but Limestone got the impression it had not been brushed in a long time, going by its disheveled state and the unpleasant smell that met them as they carried her. She was also very thin, with ribs showing through her chest at points they should not have been able to see ribs.

Fortunately one of the few luxuries the Pies kept at their rock farm was a natural hot spring used for daily cleansing and relaxing, and Limestone ended up taking Trixie there once they got back. She’d wanted to surprise Pa with the news of their sales herself, but now they also had a mysterious unicorn to explain, and she knew that Marble got along with their parents better than she did. For a moment she still considered dumping Trixie in the spring and heading back to receive her properly due praise for her jewelry idea, but that carried the risk of her drowning the unicorn by mistake, so she sighed and climbed into the hot spring, carrying Trixie slung over her side as she went.

Predictably, the shock of the hot water around her was enough to finally wake Trixie from her coma. Less predictably, Trixie had only been awake for a few seconds before she sprang into action. Long, curving chains of fire sprang into existence from the air around them and shot toward Limestone, stopping mere inches away from her neck as she sat, stunned, partially submerged in the spring. She’d had very few encounters with unicorn magic in her life and had no idea whether the fire was real or some kind of illusion, since the heat of the spring water around her made it hard to tell whether the fire chains were themselves emitting any heat. So she sat very still and waited for Trixie to make the next move.

“What is this?!” shouted Trixie, evidently satisfied that no counterattack was coming. “Are you trying to drown Trixie?”

Limestone looked carefully down at the fire still threatening her, but it didn’t seem to be getting any closer. She risked an answer. “I was trying to give Trixie”—she rolled her eyes at herself, and corrected her grammar—“trying to give you a bath.”

“A bath?”

“Yes. Because you fainted in the dirt in front of me and my sister. And smelled terrible.”

There was some hesitation in Trixie’s face now. “Trixie did?”

“Yes!” Limestone did feel a little sorry for the other mare, waking up in such a confusing situation, but not sorry enough not to resent the fire magic still poking dangerously at her neck. “We met at the market, remember? You tried to get us to hire you to work at our farm, then you fainted, so we brought you home with us.”

“Oh.” Trixie frowned. “That sounds… not unfamiliar. Perhaps, strange grayish pony, you two have saved Trixie’s life. You have her thanks.”

“I’d rather have her magic not licking at my throat.”

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Trixie’s horn glowed for a fraction of a second and the chains of fire vanished as quickly as they had come. Slowly the other mare lowered herself into the waters of the spring, sighing contentedly as she did so. “This feels wonderful. Trixie has been traveling for… too long. I don’t remember my last bath.”

Limestone’s eyebrows shot up at that last sentence. “So you can talk like a normal pony!”

“Hmmm? Yes, of course. Trixie can do anything!”

Limestone was not sure what she could say to that, so for the next ten minutes or so they simply lay in the hot spring, Limestone relaxing and Trixie making a more active effort to get herself washed. Her silvery mane, which had sprouted from her head in all directions at the market, she had thoroughly washed and was attempting to make straight again with a brush Limestone lent her. She’d even attempted to scrub her body clean against the rocks along the sides of the spring, but had found them too rough, so her mane was getting the most attention.

With her life no longer in immediate danger, Limestone took the time to notice Trixie’s eyes, which were a rich purple, not dissimilar to Marble’s but with noticeably less shine to them. Unless, Limestone supposed with a faint smile, she was simply that much biased in favor of her little sister. There was a certain intensity to Trixie’s expression, even when she busied herself taking care of her mane and later tail, and Limestone wondered what odd story had brought her to their farm.

But of course she could simply ask. Limestone had troubles speaking up to her parents sometimes, but most other ponies she could trust herself to be direct with, especially when they were taking a bath together. So she groaned and raised her head out from the water in order to be able to hear Trixie’s responses, shook out her mane a little, and said, “So, Trixie.”

“Yes? I don’t remember catching your name.”

“Oh. I’m Limestone Pie. I’m the eldest daughter of the Pie family, the owners of this farm.” She decided at the moment to leave out the detail that it was a rock farm; ponies tended to ask questions about that, and for the time being she had her own questions to ask. “My sister, who I found you with, is Marble Pie.”

“I see. Trixie remains grateful.”

“Right. So, uh… before we brought you here, I talked to another pony who recognized your name. She said we should have left you in the dirt and gone home.”

Trixie shrugged and continued brushing her tail. “I have many enemies these days.”

“Okay, but… why? You’ve been…”—Limestone stopped, searching for a phrase she could use honestly—“mostly nonviolent since you woke up. And you seemed pretty poor and miserable at the market. What in Holder’s name did you do?”

Trixie’s eyes narrowed slightly at the reference to the Pie’s ancient ancestor, but she did not question it. Instead she shrugged again and put on a self-righteous expression that Limestone had trouble trusting. “Very little,” she said grandly. “But as thanks for your timely rescue of Trixie’s person, I shall favor you with a tale of my great travails… for no charge!

“Once, Trixie was a humble traveling magician. My cart of wonders and I roamed from town to town across Equestria, entertaining the locals with shows of illusion magic and tales from faraway lands. In return, ponies would pay me for bringing magic and adventure to their dull, predictable lives. It was a happy time, a mutually agreeable arrangement that benefitted all involved.

“Unfortunately, not all ponies out there understand the finer arts of the great magician. A few hecklers are normal at any performance, of course, but Trixie knows tricks enough to shut them up and turn the crowd against them, so that she looks the more powerful—and yet, of course, always generous and magnanimous in her victories! Again, standard fare, completely to be expected of a traveling magician.

“But one day I came to a village—I shall not deign to repeat its name—with inhabitants stupider than any Trixie had ever seen. Two schoolfoals, understandably enthralled by my presence, summoned an enormous monster to terrorize the town, and goaded me on to destroy the creature.” Trixie sighed, long and loud. “I failed.”

Limestone, drawn in to the story despite herself, frowned at this. “But you keep saying you can do anything.”

“I can! Well… perhaps not anything anything.” Trixie crossed her front hooves in front of her and glared out across the hot spring’s rippling surface. “My special talent is with illusions. I have some other powers too—a certain facility with explosions, a good sense of light and color, a mastery of smoke—but I am an illusionist at heart. A performer! No foals in their right minds would require a performer, even such an excellent one as myself, to vanquish a massive monster, and yet…

“…and yet, they did. And when Trixie failed, the word was sent out across Equestria that she was a fraud. A cheater. A villain!” Trixie positively spat the last word, and Limestone flinched. “Everywhere I have gone, ponies have laughed at me and kicked me from their inns, their streets, their very doorsteps. I have lost my magic cart and even my hat and cape. All I have left in the world is my traveling cloak… and my immense skill and pride, of course.”

Limestone nodded. “So you asked us for work, hoping we hadn’t heard of you before…”

“And we’re only too happy to accept!”

At the end of the dirt road leading up to the hot spring from the farm stood Marble, a loaf of bread on a plate balanced on her back, smiling one of her warmest and most welcoming smiles. Trixie’s eyes widened at the sight of her, though Limestone suspected she was actually reacting to the bread on Marble’s back, what with how worryingly thin Trixie was. Indeed, in no time Trixie had clambered out of the water, splashing Marble indiscriminately, and had started levitating chunks of bread to her without asking the least bit of permission first.

Marble, far from being offended by this, giggled and even patted Trixie on the head. “I thought you looked hungry!” she said. “Don’t worry, it’s okay! I talked to my parents, and now that we’re making more money again, we can take you on as a farmpony until you get back on your feet, okay?”

Trixie looked up, and her latest chunk of bread stopped just before reaching her mouth. “You’ll give me work?” she asked. “Just like that? As a… farmpony?”

“I’ll teach you anything you need to know,” said Marble. “I think Limestone is going to be worrying about business stuff more now, so I could use another pony out on the fields with me!”

Trixie looked Marble slowly up and down, her eyes lingering from time to time on spots that Limestone wasn’t sure were entirely appropriate. She’d always said her sister was pretty, and certainly Marble usually had better luck with the customers at market than she did—though personality had to play a role there too—but there was something oddly… appraising about Trixie’s gaze. But then, what did Limestone really know? She’d never looked at another pony like that at all, nor noticed herself being looked at either, so maybe Trixie was only acting normally. Besides, it was Marble’s life, not hers.

Nonetheless… there was a difference between Marble’s life and the rock farm’s future. So she pulled herself out of the hot spring and beckoned Marble over to her while Trixie laid claim to the remainder of the bread loaf. Marble came quickly, almost skipping, and Limestone watched her warily.

“Marble…” she began, once she thought they were probably out of earshot, but Marble quickly interrupted her.

“Isn’t she beautiful? Limestone, isn’t she the most beautiful pony you’ve ever seen? I mean, I know she’s really thin right now, but…”

Limestone didn’t even bother looking back again to check. Trixie did have long, silvery hair with some natural curl to it, and purple eyes, and a brilliant coat, but together they all added up to… she shrugged. “Marble, you know I don’t think about anyone that way.”

“You tell me I’m beautiful.”

“You’re my sister. That’s different.” Limestone shook her mane out a little and sighed. “Look, Marble… I know we were talking about hiring some more help. But we literally just got started. We don’t know if our new sales will last, and we definitely don’t know if she’ll be helpful.”

“We can at least give her a fair chance! She needs food, badly. And self-respect too.” Limestone, who’d heard more of Trixie’s accounts of her skills, snorted at this, but Marble ignored her. “She might die without us!”

“I know, but…”

“Limestone, you were miserable and we let you take a risk, remember? And your jewelry worked! Let me take a risk too.”

Two and two, struggling against all mental and biological programmings in Limestone’s body, finally fitted themselves together to make four. “You want to marry her.”

“No, no, nothing as serious as that! Not unless we get along really well. But she’s so pretty, and it would be so nice to get to try, just once, you know?”

Limestone did not know, and she fidgeted. “She’s a traveling magician, Marbs. She’s probably been traveling all her life. One day she’s going to want to go away again and break your heart.”

But Marble only watched her calmly. Rocks were honest. “Okay. But maybe I’d rather have my heart broken than have never had a heart to begin with.”

Marble was Limestone’s baby sister… but she was older than their mother, Cloudy Quartz, had been when she’d gotten married. She was beautiful, but she had a mind of her own. She made friends in the marketplace. She stayed positive and helped the farm through its rough spots. Maybe she could take care of herself. So that left Limestone, as the eldest sister, with two choices: to keep her safe, or to make her happy.

“I think Trixie feels dangerous,” she said at last, “but I’m willing to give her a try for your sake.” And Marble hugged her close, and everything felt right with the world.

Author's Note:

It's been a very long time since I last completed a story with Trixie in it, so this is most exciting! Plumsweet is the name of a toyline-only pony, originally portrayed as an earth pony although her recent blind bag release gave her wings for whatever reason; she appears here because I needed a random name.

Comments

[Emperor]

An entertaining first chapter, though I think it does get slightly repetitive going on about how much the Pie family all love Marble as the cute heart of its members. At least Marble is pretty honest in that she finds Trixie attractive and doesn't expect to get a whole 'love at first sight' or romantic love period in turn. I suppose it'll be up to Trixie to lighten up the lives of the rest of the family. Even just the novelty of somepony new would do it, but she'll no doubt go above and beyond.