Mare in the Mirror

by adcoon

16. Washed Ashore

The farm was burning brightly. The realization made her stop and turn to stare from under the shadow of a tree as the flames lit up the night sky. They had come in the darkness of night—it was always dark now, but it had seemed particularly dark of late. Winona had awoken them, and they had watched from one of the upper windows as the rows of torches circled in on the farm.

Applejack had shoved her into the basement, along with Angel and Tank, and told her to run. There was a tunnel between the farm and the apple cellars, and here she was. The whole night was a blur until now.

She took a step and turned around. She couldn't leave Applejack and her family. What if they were taken, or worse, they could be stuck in the burning farm? All because of her. But they had told her to run, and what else could she do now? Her wing was broken, the rest of her body beaten and weak. She couldn't fly, couldn't possibly fight either. But she couldn't leave a friend in need either, could she?

She gazed up at the sky, at the grand castle she knew was there somewhere, far away in the distance. She had left one friend behind already, had she not? She stood in silent indecision and tears as flames and smoke rose towards the sky.

An angry, insistent pull on her mane tore her out of it. She looked back at Angel, the scowling bunny sitting on her back with folded arms, stomping his foot. Ever since Angel appeared in the window of her cell, the bunny had seemed very eager to get her somewhere, sometime very soon. Only, Rainbow Dash wasn't sure where that was. All she knew was that Angel had been Fluttershy's pet and had never accepted a simple no.

Applejack or Fluttershy? Fight or flee? The sound of angry voices and stomping hooves came rolling over the hills towards her. Time to decide was running out. The snow lay thick, and she couldn't fly. If they found her tracks she would need to be far away. And Applejack knew how to take care of herself.

She looked back at the forest behind her, then turned and ran. “I'm sorry, Applejack!”

* * *

Princess Luna's old room was full of stuff, all kinds of things gathered over many, many lifetimes. It was perfect. There had to be something, anything she could use, Scootaloo reassured herself as she nudged through the contents of one of the large drawers.

So far she'd found rocks, gems, no end of books and scrolls, plenty paper too, quills, pillows, socks, jewelry, dresses, figurines both sculpted and carved, dolls, various instruments, small bottles of perfume, many things she wasn't sure what was, just about everything but what she had hoped for. The rocks and gems were too small, the figurines too unwieldy or fragile. But there had to be something, somewhere in this royal mess.

Scootaloo stuffed the things back in the drawer, closed it and stretched herself as tall as she was to open the next one, peering inside. A collection of feathers, a bag of needles and thread—if only the needles were bigger—many, many letters and drawings from young fillies and colts who had written the princess since her return … Scootaloo grumbled and nudged them aside. There was probably one from her in there too.

Her nose hit something hard and cold. She stopped and brushed a drawing away, staring at a long, slender pair of scissors made of heavy silver. She picked it up and weighed it in her mouth, considering the edge breathlessly. This was it … just what she needed.

A sound made her spin around. The two guards in the next room made a quiet salute, but the slight movement of their hooves as they stood at attention was enough for her. Scootaloo thanked them silently as she rolled in under the bed where she had dug out a small room among all the things crammed in there.

Her head disappeared under the mattress just in time, a second before Trixie's hooves came into view in the door in front of her, stepping with soundless grace into the bedroom. Scootaloo bit down on the scissors and held her breath.

A drop fell upon the floor in front of the bed. Scootaloo stared wide-eyed at the deep scarlet stain before her. Trixie stood for a moment in silence before the bed. Another pair of ruby drops joined the first, then she turned slowly.

Scootaloo watched in bewildered and breathless silence as Trixie sat down at the desk with her head turned away. She sat there like a gargoyle, unmoving and sombre. It took a moment for Scootaloo to realize that this was her moment to strike. It was better than she had dared to hope for. As quietly as she could, she crept out from under the bed, scissors between her teeth.

Scootaloo rose up behind Trixie, trying to keep the paralyzing dread out of mind, the thought of killing another pony, one who had once been her friend. A heavy drop fell from Trixie's face like a tear upon the parchment spread out before her. Scootaloo watched as blood ran down Trixie's cheek and stained her coat.

Had she hurt Celestia? Hurt her friends and how many other ponies? The young pegasus tensed. And struck! The scissors flashed as she threw herself at Trixie, weapon aimed for the neck, aimed to kill.

Her breath was lost, and the scissors clattered against the floor as she was thrown back, not violently but with a certain insistence. She landed on the bed before being pinned down, helplessly pressed down against the mattress. Trixie sat before the desk, the only change a faint glow of her horn. Scootaloo watched her fearfully, but something about her seemed less threatening. Scootaloo thought she looked tired yet strangely calm, perhaps satisfied?

Minutes passed but might as well have stood still, the only sound seeming to be her frantic heartbeat as she lay there upon the bed. Finally Trixie looked up and turned as she stood. Scootaloo stared. It hadn't been Celestia's blood. A deep gash ran across Trixie's face, crossed by several bloody scratches. What remained of her left eye was a bloody mess.

And yet she seemed calm, and that was about all that could be drawn from her expression as she walked up next to Scootaloo and picked up the scissors from the floor. “Celestia's pet bird is fiercer than it looks,” she offered as explanation before the question had even formed properly in Scootaloo's mind.

Scootaloo sank a lump in her throat and finally found her voice, summoning up all the courage to speak that she could find inside her. “A-are you going to hurt me? D-did you hurt Princess Celestia? W-what did you do to her?”

Trixie lay the scissors down carefully on a nearby nightstand and looked down at Scootaloo with a soft smile. It was a strange smile, it seemed almost motherly, and yet it couldn't be. Not from the monster Scootaloo had seen, that still hid behind those eyes. “My dear,” Trixie said as she reached out a hoof to stroke Scootaloo's mane. “You are both very precious to me. Celestia has learned her proper place, and you, my dear, you needn't fear a thing from me.”

“W-why?” Scootaloo stammered.

It was a deeper question than it seemed on the surface, or perhaps more than one question, and Trixie appeared to know. She sat for a time looking at something, face unreadable. Scootaloo was confused. Everything about Trixie's behavior was different, unfamiliar. And yet she was surely the same she had been in Celestia's room earlier that day.

She looked a little thoughtful, several small furrows forming upon her brow as she looked up at the ceiling. Scootaloo had never seen her look so genuinely ponderous, as if for once she wasn't already absolutely certain what to say and do. After a while Trixie looked down again. “Tell me, have you encountered any bullies in school? You don't strike me as one yourself.”

Scootaloo was taken quite aback by the question. “Uh … yeah, kinda, I guess,” she muttered. She briefly imagined Diamond Tiara making an entry, but even she could never be this evil.

“How about love?” Trixie asked enigmatically and winked. “Anypony you fancied? Some handsome colt, or perhaps a fine young filly friend?”

“I …” Scootaloo blushed a little despite the situation. She looked away as best she could. She didn't want to answer such a question, not to the … thing who had asked.

Trixie smiled at her. “Never mind, perhaps another time. Allow me to tell you a tale, then.”

Scootaloo expected a trick as she watched and listened, helplessly pinned to the bed.

* * *

“Bullies are common as flies. Every school has their bullies, just as every pig sty has their flies,” Trixie began. “Mine was named Daffodil Dreams, a dreamy little pegasus who was terribly in love with herself and loved to gloat about her obvious superiority. She had her eyes on me from the first day we met, but I won't bore you with her many humiliations of me. In the larger scheme of things they must surely be considered insignificant.“

“Daffodil had a friend, a unicorn named Mandrake Meadows, who was actually quite handy with herbs and mixtures and only truly obnoxious by her association with Daffodil who she followed around like a well-trained lap dog.”

“Mandrake was also to blame for Daffodil's stellar and entirely undeserved grades. See, Daffodil wasn't very bright but had a very bright friend, and she had plenty of wits to take full advantage of that. Mandrake did all her homework, and Daffodil wrote off of her during tests. Easily done with a half-senile old teacher with a fondness for burying her head in old magazines while her students toiled. But everypony kinda knew, and this was all the least of Daffodil's secrets. Her true secret was far more interesting.”

“Of course, these days it hardly raises any eyebrows, but back then a young filly who found herself looking at her classmates rather than sneaking a peek at the colts next door tended to keep her tendencies a secret. And that's what Daffodil did. To be found out would be disastrous for her reputation, not to mention the reputation of her high-society family. Didn't matter that then as now most fillies had the same urges, or at least experimented. It's only natural with a majority of females in the population, but traditional values are strange that way. Daffodil had a lot to lose, that's all that mattered.”

“And as it so happened, you can imagine that I learned of this. I was only at Daffodil's place because our teacher, in a fit of teaching us the value of finding friends in unexpected places or something equally sappy, had assigned us randomly to another classmate. We were to make a project together, and I ended up with Daffodil of all ponies. To this day I suspect the random drawing of numbers was rigged.”

“But either way, there I was in Daffodil's inner sanctum, and while she didn't look I slipped her diary, carelessly left in a poorly locked drawer, into my bag. She never learned the value of quality over frilly looks, not just when it came to locks.”

“Imagine my glee at the rather, oh, shall we say colorful drawings and awful attempts at romantic fiction within that book. But it was quite arousing in its own way, not so much the things she wrote as the mere fact that I was reading it.”

“I recall the moment vividly, because it was the moment I got …” Trixie looked down at her cutie mark. “Well, not this one, but my original cutie mark. Reading through Daffodil's most private thoughts and desires, I knew exactly what to do with that sort of knowledge. I wrapped her ever so artfully around my hoof and made her dance to my every tune. And everypony thought I was particularly good at weaving fine fabrics, the fools, how I laughed. I never felt more alive.”

“After that, Daffodil became a pure delight. You could say a lot about Daffodil, but she did have one redeeming virtue. She was quite a fine young filly, any young colt's dream I dare say. And as you might have guessed, mine as well. Like herself, I had an eye for fine things, only I knew how to not leave any incriminating evidence lying around in poorly locked places.”

“She was my first true love, and I will never forget our times together. She hated me with such a burning passion, but her abused tears were the sweetest I ever tasted. To make her mine against her will, to make her bow down at my merest glance, to do the things I did to her … can not be adequately described.”

“To the outside world we appeared to have become the best of friends, and that meant that many new ponies suddenly paid me attention now that I was best buddy with the school's most popular filly. Our teacher declared her project a great success because of our newfound 'understanding' and gave us both top grades.”

“Mandrake was the only one who didn’t buy it, but even she was left in the dark. Daffodil never told Mandrake her dirty little secret, and even if she may have wanted to say something later I made quite sure she couldn't, lest a certain little book should end up in somepony's mail. I had quite a few copies made, you see, using a simple copying spell.”

“But it only lasted so long. Eventually she vowed to end it. Using Mandrake's knowledge of herbs, Daffodil served me tea full of poison. Only, you'll remember that Daffodil was not very clever, and she never told Mandrake what she needed it for, so Mandrake in turn never told her about the horrible taste of said poison.”

“The taste was truly awful, and I didn't have to swallow to tell that something was terribly wrong with my tea. I discreetly spat it out in a napkin and smilingly played along for the rest of the evening. She got really scared after that, and I knew it was time to end it, as sad as I was to do so. She was my first love, and the only pony I have ever … truly loved.”

“I decided to show her how it's done. Her last lesson, as a friendly courtesy. So I gave her poison. Not quite enough to kill, just the right dose to subdue. I had never killed a pony before, she was my first in that regard too, but I knew from the moment I looked into her terrified eyes that I liked it. I loved it, all the more because of the tragedy.”

“Have you ever killed a pony up close and personal? It's a very special experience, something I have found most ponies simply can't do. In fact I am quite proud of your little attempt there with the scissors, very nice. But back to Daffodil …”

“I dragged her into the woods as night fell, where I knew no pony ever came. I tied her up between two trees, and when the poison began to wear off I took her life with a stitching awl while she begged and screamed. I left her remains for the wild animals; they were never found. This was some time before I learned the value of ashes, mind you. Oh, I would have given anything for her ashes later on.”

“Her loss was mourned, but because everypony thought I had lost a dear friend they treated me quite differently from then on. I became close friends with many ponies who had before been just … followers, I suppose you could charitably call them. Suddenly I was loved, and everypony stumbled over themselves to comfort me.”

“And what I learned from all that is that friendship is cheap, bought easily for false tears and spilled blood. Or money, or any number of other things.”

Scootaloo stared in horror at the monster sitting next to her. Trixie didn't seem to notice her much as she continued after a short break. “Not long after that I attended the Summer Sun Celebration and saw Celestia raise the sun. I saw how everypony … every pony bowed at her merest presence, how she moved the heavens according to her will, how she ruled the lands and the skies with unquestioned authority. I knew right then where I wanted to be, and where I wanted her; beneath my hooves.”

“I enrolled in her school and set my eyes for the top. I was never the best at magic, but I worked hard, and I knew how to get ahead in life. I knew what had to be done, and I wasn't afraid to do it, not for a second. I loved every moment of it, every pull of the threads, every drop of innocent blood, every tortured soul. And here I am at last, a pony who has done what no other pony could do, and not a living soul left who could deny me my right!” She finished with great pride.

“You're a monster!” Scootaloo spat out the words that had been forming on her lips. She was angry and crying. She remembered Sweetie Belle, Zecora, Twilight … all those other ponies, and who else? Celestia? Rainbow Dash? She didn't know, and that was perhaps the worst part. “I hate you!” It was all she could say, with all the force and gravity her lungs would bear, yet it felt flat compared to the raging emotions screaming inside her.

Trixie smiled and picked up the scissors. “Yes.” The blades of the scissors parted. “You can hate me to your heart's content, I don't mind, you see, because you'll still do everything I want you to do, and I couldn't desire anything more than that. You are mine, whether you like it or not.”

Trixie stood and turned, her bloodied eye staring blankly down at nothing. Scootaloo felt herself stretched out on the bed, legs and wings spread out and head pulled backwards. She felt the cold, sharp blade of the scissors run lightly along a vein in her neck, down over her heaving chest to where her heart was beating, and further along the soft skin of her stomach.

She gasped between heavy sobs as Trixie lay down next to her and kissed her, leaving a taste of blood upon her lips. “But you needn't worry. It will soon be over, my precious child.”

* * *

Fluttershy dragged herself and Pinkie over the crest of another small sandy hill and paused, scouting out over the beach stretching endlessly towards the distance. Pinkie stirred and leaned against her. “Do you see anything?” She asked hopefully, with a hint of longing.

The beach was empty, like no other beach she knew. No seaweed or driftwood washed ashore, only sand and … she stopped. There was in fact something. A faint glimmering in the waves as they licked the shore, a shimmering of light from a small heap. She gave Pinkie a little nuzzle and started down the hill, stepping carefully. It was difficult and tiring to walk on three legs, but she couldn't fly with Pinkie, and the pink pony was still too weak to walk on her own.

She stopped halfway down the hill as something appeared over another hilltop ahead. A pair of silhouettes against the starless sky, one small the other larger but walking as if ages weighed down upon it and made it appear smaller than it likely was. “Is that …” Fluttershy said, her voice weak and hoarse.

Pinkie lifted a hoof to her eyes and looked up.

“Rarity?” Fluttershy finished.

“Rarity! Spi—” Pinkie made a little jump and rushed forwards. Too late did her legs follow her mind, and she fell instead, tumbling down the sandy hill. She landed in a heap at the bottom as Fluttershy gasped weakly and spread her wings to follow.

They met midways along the low between hills. Fluttershy gingerly hugged Rarity who gave a weary smile in return. None of them had the energy to do more or to speak many words as they stood in the sand, looking at each other through tears of mixed joy and sorrow.

It was a glittering light by the water that broke the silence. They turned as one to look, only now noticing the figure sprawled out in the wet sand. Fluttershy was first to fly over next to the soaked pony. The others stood for a while, then followed one by one.

“Is she … dead?” Pinkie said hesitantly.

Fluttershy nudged at the unresponsive Manna. Her eyes were empty holes staring blankly ahead, a frightening sight. A piece of glass glittered in her chest. Fluttershy carefully removed the piece and examined the body. She shook her head and moved aside.

There was a brief pause, then Spike moved in to help. Together they pulled the drenched pony out of the water and onto the dry beach.

* * *

Manna gasped and coughed up several mouthfuls of salty water. She took several long, deep breaths before looking up … or she thought it was up. Everything was black, but she could hear somepony next to her, a voice she thought she recognized from somewhere.

“Can you hear me? It's alright … we're here.”

A hoof was offered to her, gently pressed against her own. She hesitated. Here she was—she had no idea where. She could hear the gentle lapping of the water and feel the sand beneath her, but everything was still dark. There were others around her—she wasn't sure who. Who would help her? She had never earned anypony's friendship, but here they were. Was it a cruel trick?

“It's alright …” the voice repeated. It was a low, hoarse voice, rough and unrefined, but it carried a gentleness behind it.

Manna looked up at where she thought the voice came from. She was keenly aware of tears streaming down her cheeks as she gave a weak squeeze of the hoof. She wanted to say something, but the words never came.

The hoof squeezed back softly, assuring her that no words were necessary.

* * *

They were right on her track. It was impossible to hide when the snow recorded her passage perfectly and all the rivers and lakes were frozen over. Rainbow Dash doubted she would have survived many seconds in the freezing waters anyway. They were close by now, and they would find her soon.

She leaped across a small brook and ran as best she could. The trees and bushes circled in on her, a twig slapped her across the cheek, and a root nearly tripped her. It was as if the forest itself rose up against her in her hour of need. The path narrowed, then finally vanished entirely.

Rainbow Dash came to a skidding halt and looked around in a panic. A deep ravine cut through the landscape in front of her, and around her the forest denied her passage. Behind her the flickering lights and voices of her pursuers came closer by the second. She was trapped.

Perhaps if she jumped … she would hit the rocks and surely die, but it was absolutely better than getting caught. She looked down the gorge and sank.

There was a little nap at her ear. She looked back at the tortoise. Tank nodded his head at a dense patch of bushes nearby. “They'll find me,” she said, looking between the bush and the gorge. Tank pulled at her bandaged wing; she winced as a stab of pain shot through it. “It just might work …” She dared to hope and stepped up to the edge.

With a muffled cry of pain she pulled off the bandage and threw it over the edge. It descended for a bit before getting caught on a sharp rock. Tank and Angel both nodded. Rainbow Dash looked behind her, then leaped into the bushes, bashing her one wing frantically. She crashed through the dense thicket and landed with a cry.

She had only just managed to settle down and make herself as small as possible when a large stallion in royal armor rounded the corner and came into view.

“Hurry, I heard something up here,” he said as he moved cautiously up to the edge of the ravine. Several others followed behind him, looking around with tense eyes. “Looks like she jumped.”

“Or it's a cheap trick,” said another. The others nodded. “Steel Wing and Hawk, you two fly down there and have a look. If she's dead, then we need her body. The rest of you search up here, she's bound to be somewhere near. The Queen will reward us royally.”

The others gave a salute and got to work.

Rainbow Dash held her breath and tried to convince her heart to not beat so loudly as she watched in horror. One of the guards approached the bush she was hiding in, and a hoof stuck through the dense branches and felt around. This was it, she thought as she closed her eyes and waited.

A voice called out somewhere above. “Soldiers! The fugitive has been sighted north-west of here. We need her surrounded before she escapes again.”

The voice sounded familiar. Dash opened her eyes and glanced up slightly, trying to make something out in the pale light of the moon.

The soldiers exchanged confused looks between each other. “Commander, she was here only moments ago, we are certain of it. She either fell or is hiding close by.”

“Your senses need checking, soldier.” Rainbow Dash recognized the features of the blue mare descending below the canopy towards the guards. “Or perhaps her wings were not as badly hurt as you thought. Either way, we're losing time.”

There was hesitation. Blue Jet clapped her hooves. “Move to it! Now! Or do you wish I should report your names to our Queen for dereliction?” It was clear that the guards had been given some doubt about their commander, but the mention of the Queen made short work of any hesitation.

Rainbow Dash sighed a breath of relief as calls were made and the guards set off towards the north-west. Blue Jet turned in the air and looked down, an imploring look in her eyes that seemed to say, “Don't waste it.”

Rainbow Dash knew, it would be the last time she saw those eyes alive.

* * *

Luna dragged herself the last few yards to the edge and collapsed as she begged of the stars and the night. “Please … be real.” Sombre birds on silent wings settled in the crooked trees and shades around her, eyes peeled for her last exhale and their long awaited meal. Long shadows of thin branches like claws reached out for her, longing to take her away.

She forgot all about these things as she stared longingly into the cold, blank surface of the water, her young face staring back. She leaned over, shaking with the fear that it should be taken away before her eyes. She needed this, the water. She couldn't go on any longer.

Her tongue touched the surface of the lake, and there was nothing. She licked the empty air and felt dry tears well up in her eyes. She cried and stuck her entire head into the water, but there was still nothing there. She could see it, it was right there, it looked back at her, but she never could touch it or drink it. It denied her, rejected her.

“I'm sorry!” she begged the water with desperation. “I'm sorry!” If only she knew what she had done, where she had gone wrong. “I'm so sorry …” she cried, too weak to lift her head as she lay by the shore of the lake. “Please help me … please … just one drink.”

There was a tiny spark deep in the dark waters. Luna followed it with her eyes. Dark trees and black beaks with cruel little eyes reflected in the watery mirror, waiting for her, and there, on the other shore she sat, looking into the water sadly. The azure coat and the pale blue, nearly white mane, the young violet eyes … “Trixie,” Luna pleaded as she lifted her head an inch to see.

Trixie looked up at her, and Twilight met her eyes. Luna blinked in confusion and stared at the young filly sitting by the lake, looking across the waters at her, and the image of Trixie peering out of the water below. A gloom crossed their shared face, and they turned away from her.

Luna cried. “Please, don't leave me … please, I need your help.”

But Twilight didn't look at her. “ 'I am not your friend! I never were and never will be your friend! Nopony is your friend!' That's what you said to me, remember?” the filly said with tears in her deep, purple eyes. “Why should I be your friend if you won't be mine? Why should I help you in your moment of need when you never helped me once and instead turned your back on me?”

“I …” Luna looked down. “I'm sorry. I never meant—” she began. “Please … I was wrong. I thought—Please, won't you help me?”

“I thought you loved me, I thought you were my friend, my love … I loved you. But maybe you only love me now that you need me? Maybe you never cared as long as you were fine.”

Luna felt miserable. “I always loved you. Truly, I did! You must know that,” she begged.

Twilight looked at her, then stood up and turned her back on Luna as she walked away. “I don't believe you. Help yourself.”

* * *

Rainbow Dash stumbled through the thicket and out onto the beach. She was cold to her bones, hungry and weary. Her body was scratched and beaten. All she wanted was to lie down and sleep for days or weeks. Several times in the last few hours she had been face down in the snow and not even realized it until Angel or Tank had bitten her, hard. She had lost her pursuers, but she couldn't go on much longer.

Angel had gotten more insistent, more eager as the forest thinned towards the east. Now the bunny was practically dragging and pushing Rainbow Dash across the rocky sands of the beach. The light of a city in the distance brought a little hope into her heart, perhaps word of her hadn't reached that place, but it was evidently not where the bunny wanted her attention.

She stumbled over the rocks, led like a beast of burden. And there it was …

She wasn't sure what she had expected.

Upon the rocks lay a small green alligator, frost covering its scaly hide, its once vivid eyes now closed forever. In its mouth it grasped a simple hoof-held mirror, held protectively as if it meant the whole world in those last moments of its life.

Rainbow Dash moved closer and carefully picked the mirror from its grasp. She looked at the mirror and sat down heavily, her mind at a loss for what to feel. She wanted to cry for Gummy, for her friends, all the ponies she had lost and failed, all the pain she and they had suffered.

And all she had come this long way for was … a dumb mirror?