It's a Kind of Magic

by Sixes_And_Sevens

I Want to Break Free

Sherlock had Mycroft.

Romulus had Remus.

Mary Boleyn had Anne.

The Great and Powerful Trixie had Evening Glow, and that rivalry was as terrible and bloody as any of them.

***

The crystal corridors were long and winding, a positive labyrinth for the unwary. Trixie didn’t care. She didn’t care where she was going or how to get there, nor how to get back. She just wanted to get away from Sparkle. Away from everypony.

How long she ran, she did not know. She probably would have run forever, if she hadn’t tripped over one of her borrowed golden horseshoes. She fell flat on her face.

Whimpering and clutching at her face, she rolled over onto her side. All the tears that she had been holding in now forced their way out. Her mind flew back against her will, returning to the Neigh Orleans of last week…

***

The show had gone smashingly. Of course it had. These were her people. Not all of them, perhaps, knew her, but there were enough faces that she recognized from her youth to inspire her to an exceptional performance. She had pulled out all the stops. The card that was really in your saddlebag the whole time, the disappearing reappearing watch (which she had even reset to Canterlot time just to prove that she could) and for one lucky colt in the audience, a hoofful of peppermints in his cap. And her horn didn’t glow once. After the show, Trixie basked in the glow backstage. Bouquets had appeared as though by— well, magic. Countless well-wishers sent cards, chocolates, and in one case, a fresh-baked beignet. She recognized Fauna’s work as soon as she bit into it, the powdered sugar puffing gently back onto her tongue, not quite strong enough to make her cough. She had to work hard to suppress her ego, these days, lest she fall back into… Amulet territory. That was a mistake that Trixie was not about to make twice.

And then, after her third night treading the boards at the La Lune, she had received a card. It was of simple, yet elegant design, with sharp corners and thin lines. This card did not say, it insinuated. It insinuated, in very very angular and tidy hornwriting, that Beatrix should arrive at the Lulamoon estate tomorrow, at no later than let us say ten in the morning? Make that eleven, I know how you performers love to loaf. No, noon. I must rest up before I look at you. A sort of beauty sleep by osmosis, n’est pas? See you tomorrow, petite soeur…

She went. Ponies did not disobey Evening Glow. She supposed that at some point during her brief reign as evil overlady of Ponyville she must have been more terrible and manipulative than her brother, but Tartarus if she could think when.

He was well-kempt. He was always well-kempt. Never in her life had she seen a single strand of his mane out of place. He wore a cream suit, slightly off-color to his white coat. The same white, their mother claimed, as Celestia. Trixie never thought that was true. Celestia was a warm white. The white of the sun on a spring day. The white of melting vanilla ice cream, or perhaps the powdered sugar on a warm beignet. Cloud-white. Her brother was ice-white, exactly as warm and just as soft. Next to Evening, Celestia would look grey. His cutie mark was always covered. As a precautionary measure, he had it stitched onto his chest pocket, lest somepony somehow assume that they were his superior. It was a pentacle, a brilliant crimson circumscribed star. He had gotten it for summoning a fire sprite.

He stood at the wrought-iron fence in front of the house in which they had grown up. She had been told that he lived elsewhere now. Canterlot, she heard, or Manehattan. Somewhere big and glamorous. It didn’t matter. He was, to Trixie, always and forever associated with this awful, awful house, bound to it by a magic no less powerful than one of his summonings. His stance was poised, as though without effort. When he saw Trixie at the end of the block, he smiled, a cold alligator smile. “I thought noon was ample time to arrive,” he said lazily, sweeping his sister with his calculating gaze.

“Trixie’s watch says five ‘til.”

“Trixie’s watch would. Slow as the mare who keeps it.”

The blue unicorn’s hackles rose, but she fought to keep control. She would be as emotionless as he was. She refused to give him the satisfaction of watching her break. “You wish to speak to Trixie?”

“I wish to speak to my sister. You might remember her. Meek, easily frightened, with a mouth larger than the rest of her body? Take off the mask, Beatrix. You can be yourself. After all, we are family. But then, I’m told that mud ponies and feather dusters are technically family as well.”

Trixie’s mouth pursed into a thin line at that remark, and even she wasn’t sure if it was at the vicious slurs or the idea of being a non-unicorn. She had no intrinsic dislike for pegasi or earth ponies, of course, nor minotaurs, griffons, donkeys, or any other sentient species. Xenophobia tended not to last very long on the road. At the same time, her pride lay largely in her magical skill. The very idea of having that taken away…

Evening’s mouth curled up at the ends. It was a smile in the same way that a strangler fig gives its tree a hug. “Enough pleasantries, let’s get down to business. I understand your little show has been drawing some kind of attention around Equestria, and so concluded that this might give you the idea that you were successful.”

“Trixie is successful at what she does.”

“Perhaps Trixie is. But is Beatrix? Are you happy with your lot, little sister? You traded life in the lap of luxury for a life on the road, banquets for campfires, servants for vagabonds.”

“Trixie admits this is so. But then, she also traded you for self-worth, so everything balanced out in the end.”

“I suppose self-worth buys you adequate lodgings? Three-course meals? Hoards of admirers?”

Trixie said nothing. Evening chuckled. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. Had he gone into plastic surgery? No, his face had always been like that. “Why don’t you just… give up?” he asked. “Let the Great and Powerful Trixie disappear. Maybe I’ll even give you a job.”

“What, in Equine Resources, like when Trixie was five? No thanks. Trixie’s given enough blood to your endeavors.”

“Has Trixie indeed? Beatrix did, but Trixie is still lacking in proper tribute.” He paused dramatically. “Oh, I know. Not blood, perhaps, but something even more potent.” His horn glowed silver, and suddenly a weight was lifted off of Trixie’s head.

“Hey!” she shouted, grabbing at the levitating hat as it swooped out of her reach. “Give that back to Trixie!”

“Hm… give me one good reason.”

“It isn’t yours!”

“It isn’t Trixie’s either. Beatrix bought that ratty old hat at that dull magic show.”

“Beatrix is no more.”

“What a pity.” There was a terrible tearing noise as the cloth sundered down the seams. And again. And again. And again.

She did not move. She could not move. She was transfixed by the annihilation of her most prized possession, the one thing that always reminded her of happiness. “Dreams,” Evening said idly, inspecting the tattered pieces. “Even stronger than blood, when taken correctly, don’t you think, Beatrix?”

And then she was running, running, running. She didn’t care where she was going or how to get there, nor how to get back. She just wanted to get away from her brother. Away from Neigh Orleans. Away from everypony. But where could she go?

A pink coat. Striated mane. Starlight. She would go to Ponyville.

That evening, she left town without staying for her show.

***

A crystal floor with crystal walls is a terribly uncomfortable place to recline for very long. Sooner or later, the cold, hard surfaces really get to you, even if you have a fuzzy bathrobe to lie upon. And so, Trixie eventually had to sit up, the tears drying from her eyes. She looked around, half blindly, certainly not completely present. How had she wound up in this situation? How had everything gone so terribly to Tartarus? She replayed the evening’s events in her mind.

Oh. Rut. She had done it again. She had done it rutting again! Trixie let her head bang back into the wall, her eyes screwed up tight and her mouth as thin as a piece of paper. Time to leave. She’d set the regalia by the door, of course. And then she’d go… where? Away. That was the important thing. She rose to her hooves and trotted purposefully toward the front door. Then she realized that she had no idea where the front door was.

***

“Trixie?” Twilight called. Her only response was her own voice echoing back to her as it bounced off the crystal walls, magnified as it reflected off scores of polished crystal surfaces. The princess shuddered. As lovely as her castle might have been, she couldn’t deny that it could be a little creepy from time to time.

Regret was slowly chewing away at the inside of her stomach. In the heat of the moment, Truth or Dare had sounded like a great idea for revealing Trixie’s elusive nature. On some level, it had been. In retrospect, however, the scales had fallen from Twilight’s eyes. She had been prying, and she had resorted to nothing short of bullying to get what she wanted. Now she needed to make things up, if that was even possible.

If she could even find Trixie, that is. The castle’s winding corridors and secret passages were such that Twilight was certain that even the best navigators would be stymied for days trying to find their way around. Trixie was not, as far as Twilight knew, a great navigator. Twilight herself was no great shakes. Nevertheless, she would strive. She would strive. For as long as it took, she would wander these corridors, as restless and relentless as any ghost. She would—

Was that crying she heard? Twilight glanced around. It sounded as though it should be just ahead of her and to the left, but there was no hallway there, only a suit of armor. She paused. She squinted. Why did she have a suit of armor?

Thoughtfully examining the object, she pulled its lance ever so slightly forward and immediately felt a profound sense of vertigo as the wall did a one-eighty, taking the armor, the princess, and a fairly large portion of flooring with it. “Whoo,” Twilight muttered, holding a hoof to her head. “That’s new.”

From a corner of the hallway, a blue unicorn in golden regalia stared at her. “So,” she said, detatched. “You’ve come after Trixie. Never fear, she will return your regalia and leave you in peace. Simply show Trixie the door.”

Twilight frowned. “That isn’t why I’m here.”

“Oh? Why, then?” Trixie asked miserably. “Have you come to drag Trixie in front of the whole town? Humiliate her? Ruin her? Fine. You will not hear Trixie complain. She deserves it.”

The alicorn stared, horrified. “Trixie, I would never want to do anything like that,” she said gently. “Actually, I came here to apologize.”

The blue mare sat in stony silence for several seconds. “A… apologize?” she asked, incredulous.

“Yes! I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. It was really rude, and I can see how deeply it affected you.”

“S’fine. You didn’t know.”

“No,” Twilight agreed, “but it had the same impact, regardless.”

Trixie stared at the violet mare, uncomprehending. “Why do you care?”

Twilight pulled back from the venom in those words. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because! Because you hate Trixie! Because you are my nemesis! Because Trixie doesn’t need your pity! Because Trixie never gets any pity anyway! Because nopony— ever—” She broke off, tears splashing on the ground.

Trixie felt a gentle wing encircle her. She didn’t care enough to pull away. “Trixie,” Twilight said quietly, “I don’t hate you. I think… I think I used to hate you, but… I think I might have been wrong about a few things, wasn’t I?”

The magician snorted wetly, mucus leaving bubbling trails down her muzzle. “You, wrong? Miss Perfect? Please.”

“I always thought that you were what I might have become if I had made all the wrong choices,” Twilight continued. “Leaving school, rejecting friendship, letting my ego get the better of me… but that’s not right. You aren’t the version of me who made bad decisions, you were the version who never had the chance to make those decisions.”

“Trixie doesn’t need your pity,” Trixie sniffled weakly.

“Alright… how about my sympathy? Would you like that? My sympathy, my compassion… my friendship?”

Trixie’s lower lip wobbled in an antediluvian manner. “That’s alright,” Twilight said soothingly, “let it all out.”

And she did.

***

Some two hours later, Twilight had managed to navigate them back to the kitchen. “Good morning, Trixie,” she said idly, staring at the clock. “Would you like anything for breakfast?”

The magician, still clad in the royal regalia and now less-than-fluffy white bathrobe, merely shrugged, silent and staring at the floor. “Pancakes, then,” Twilight decided, levitating out a mixing bowl.

“Trixie thought your dragon did most of the cooking?”

“Spike’s spending the night at Rarity’s. Anyway, it’s not like I can’t cook. I’m just usually too busy.”

“Huh,” Trixie said, detachedly.

“Do you want to talk at all?” Twilight asked as she cracked two eggs and threw them into a bowl. The magician hadn’t really said much of anything apart from occasional sentence fragments and loud cursing.

“No.”

“Okay.”

They sat in silence for several minutes. At length, Trixie sighed, blowing out her cheeks like a puffer fish. “Now what?” she asked. “Trixie, for one, doubts that most other townsponies will be willing to accept her.”

“Well, do you want to stay in Ponyville?” Twilight asked, raising an eyebrow. “I would have thought that you’d have wanted to get back on the road.”

Trixie waffled. “Well… the Apologetic and Hopeful Trixie feels that she should at least attempt to make up with others whom she has… wronged…”

“You sound hesitant.”

The showmare snorted. “Trixie has tried this all before. The apology show, the grand finale, the ultimate flop. Why should this time be any different?”

“Have you considered changing your tactics?”

Trixie blinked. “Of course not. Why would Trixie seek to improve upon perfection?”

“Because it hasn’t been working?” Twilight replied, deadpan.

The blue mare scowled. “Alright, fine. Trixie takes your point. You know these ponies better than does Trixie. What would you suggest?”

Twilight grinned widely.

Comments

[Prince Leviathan]

Wow

If that's just her brother, I'd hate to meet her mother.