It's a Kind of Magic

by Sixes_And_Sevens

Hammer to Fall

Trixie’s eyelids fluttered open. She stared up at the ceiling, failing for a long moment to register what it was that she was seeing. Then, her eyes focused on the crystalline pattern overhead, and her memories flooded back. She sat up, ignoring the thumping soreness below the base of her horn. “Overegged it,” she groaned, if only to herself.

She was rather surprised to hear a response. “Yes, you did.”

The unicorn spun around, wincing at the slight, stabbing pain. Her vision swum slightly, and a white mare with a pink mane and a medical uniform slowly resolved herself. Trixie grinned weakly. “Hello, nurse,” she said.

The mare gave a strained smile in reply. “Miss Lulamoon. I’m Nurse Redheart. How are you feeling?”

Trixie thought about it. “Trixie feels like someone was trying to hammer her horn flat against her head.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Twilight’s castle.”

“What’s the last thing you can remember?”

Trixie’s smile slid from her face. “Being accused of arson.”

The nurse grimaced in faint sympathy. “Yes. For what it’s worth, I don’t believe anypony considers you to be a viable suspect.”

“Oh, good,” Trixie said, her voice flat. “At least only uninformed accusations are being leveled against Trixie.” She fell back on her bed. “How long has Trixie been unconscious?”

“A little less than four hours,” Redheart replied. “We were beginning to grow concerned. That said, you should recover fully fairly soon. Dinner and a good night’s sleep should be enough to get you back to normal mana levels, although some painkillers might not be a bad idea either. I can write you a prescription--”

Trixie heaved herself out of bed. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has felt worse,” she said simply, taking the blanket from the bed and draping it around herself like a cloak. She hesitated. “But thank you for offering.”

Redheart blinked. “Only doing my job, miss.”

“Trixie is attempting to develop better habits,” the unicorn replied succinctly. “Now, Trixie believes that lunch sounds like an idea worth pursuing, so she will bid you farewell. Unless you would like to dine with her…?”

“No, I should be getting back to the hospital,” Redheart replied. “But, ah, thank you for the offer.”

“Very well. Trixie will see you later, nurse,” the unicorn said sweeping to the door. At the threshold, she paused and glanced back, eyelids half-lowered. “Hopefully, under better circumstances.”

Redheart blinked and the other mare was gone. A slow smile spread over the mare’s face. She hadn’t been flirted at like that for months now. The strange and alluring mare might be just the thing to take her mind off of the unpleasant mundanity of hospital life…

Trixie poked her head back in, interrupting Redheart’s reverie. “Um, how can one get to the dining hall from here?”

Redheart chuckled. “Follow me,” she said, trotting past the magician and down the hall. And if she swished her tail a tad as she went, well, she hadn’t had a date in over a year, and will thank you not to judge her.

***

Redheart and Trixie had parted ways just outside the dining room with minimal awkwardness. The illusionist watched the pretty nurse round the corner, hoping that she would turn and give a last wink. It didn’t come. Shame, she really was quite pretty, and Trixie could do with a few more medical professionals in her life. She pushed open the door. A moment later, she was sent sprawling out again, courtesy of a cannonball made of pink fluff. No, it was just Pinkie Pie. “TRIXIE!” she screamed.

The blue mare shrieked and threw up her hooves. “Please don’t kill Trixie! She will give you her lunch money!”

Pinkie cocked her head. “Kill you? Where did you get that idea from, silly? I just wanted to thank you for saving Pound and Pumpkin!”

Trixie stared up at her mutely. “The Cake twins,” Pinkie expounded.

“Ah, the infants,” Trixie nodded. “Yes. Forgive Trixie for being a tad slow, she is not used to having these sorts of conversations with a mare standing atop her.”

“Oh, well, you can get used to anything eventually,” Pinkie said breezily, as she made no move to get off.

After a long moment of silence, Trixie coughed. “You are not angry with Trixie, then?”

Pinkie cocked her head. “Should Pinkie be?”

“Rainbow Dash accused Trixie of being the culprit behind the explosion,” Trixie expounded.

“Was Trixie to blame?” Pinkie asked.

“Of course not!” Trixie said indignantly. “She is as fond of explosives as the next mare, more so, even, but she would never do something so phenomenally idiotic! Particularly not if it would endanger children.”

“Well, Pinkie believes Trixie,” Pinkie said with a short nod. “Pinkie thinks that trust is an important part of friendship.”

“Pinkie?”

“Yes, Trixie?”

“Don’t steal Trixie’s schtick.”

“Sorry.” Pinkie removed herself from the prone magician, who drew herself back up with as much dignity as she could muster.

“You’re in good spirits,” Trixie observed as she accompanied the other mare into the dining hall. “For somepony who’s just lost their home, Trixie means.”

Pinkie’s smile faded. “Yeah…” she sighed. “Mr. and Mrs. Cake are still unconscious in the hospital, and Sugarcube Corner is, well, toast. But they’ll recover, and we’ll all rebuild. I dunno what would’ve happened if something had happened to the twins.”

Trixie coughed. “Yes, er. The Great and Powerful Trixie… all in a day’s work,” she stammered.

“Really, now.” Trixie froze and turned.

Standing on the wall was a trio of mares. The orange hick-- no, bad Trixie. Farmer. Quiet yellow one, and Sparkle, who looked slightly nervous. There was another, as well, a stallion. Big and red, and considerably more nervous than anypony else in the room. Trixie racked her brains for who he might be, but she tended not to have as good a memory for stallions. “Greetings,” Trixie said cautiously. It was usually a safe opening gambit.

Orange Apple Horse… Jack! Apple Jack, that was it! Had just finished saying something that Trixie hadn’t heard because she was too busy congratulating herself on remembering the other mare’s name. “Well?” Applejack demanded.

Trixie blinked. “Could you repeat the question?”

The orange mare glared. “Ah said, what d’ya want fer lunch? Pardner?”

“Oh.” Trixie scratched her head. “What have you got?”

Applejack relaxed somewhat, but only marginally. “Well! We got us some apple fritters, apple scrumpy, apple flapjacks, apple pie, apple cake, apple spaghetti, apple upside-down cake, apple souffle, lettuce-apple salad, spinach-apple salad, kale-apple salad, apple-apple salad, apple sandwiches, apple stew, roast apple with all th’ trimmins, hard-boiled eggs, applesauce, appleburgers, apple pizza, and apple surprise.”

“Trixie will take the eggs. And what exactly is apple surprise?”

“All Ah’ll say is that it was Pinkie’s idear, an’ that’s all y’all’ll find out ‘less ya ask fer it.”

“Very well. Trixie will have the apple surprise also.”

“Right. Mac, with me.”

The stallion-- Mac, apparently-- fell in line with his… sister? Probably sister. Or wife. Or both. No, bad Trixie! Anyway, they both set off for what was presumably the kitchens. Pinkie bounced along behind them. As the unicorn watched them go, the other two mares trotted over to her. “Sorry about that,” Twilight said, sheepish. “She’s just not sure what to think of you, yet. Don’t worry, though, she’ll come around. When Applejack argues with herself, you can always count on her to come out on top.”

Trixie considered pointing out the fallacy in that statement, but decided that would not be a desirable path to go down. Instead, she turned to the other mare. “And what do you think…” she glanced at the mare’s flank. “Butterfly?”

“Fluttershy,” Twilight corrected.

“Oh.” Trixie rubbed behind her ear. “Um, Fluttershy, are you so conflicted?”

Fluttershy hesitated. “Well, um, no. I… I think… I know that you saved us from Queen Chrysalis, and, um, you saved the twins at Sugarcube Corner. You’ve made some mistakes, but, um, you feel bad about them, don’t you?”

Trixie nodded. Fluttershy smiled gently. “That’s the important thing. Don’t worry about Dashie and Applejack. They’ll come around.”

“And Rarity,” Twilight added. Then she hesitated. “Well, Rarity might take awhile longer.”

“Don’t worry about Rarity,” a male voice rumbled. Trixie jumped.

“Sweet Luna, how do you move so quietly?” she shouted, glaring at the gigantic dragon.

Spike smirked at her. “The Stealthy and Cunning Spike has skills.”

Trixie growled. “As Trixie told Pinkie, that is Trixie’s schtick. Leave it alone.”

The dragon’s smirk melted into a smile. “Yeah, alright. You did good back there, Trixie.”

Trixie huffed. “Not good enough, it seems.”

“Ah, don’t worry about Dash, either. She tends not to think stuff through that well before yelling it out.”

“Please. Trixie knows from experience just how effective that method of communication can be,” the magician snarked. “There’ll be a mob set to run me out of town before the week is out.”

Twilight frowned. “Come on, Trixie. Ponyville isn’t like that.”

“Yeah, well, half of the visits Trixie has made here ended with her running for the hills like a hunted dog. You’ll excuse Trixie for not having the best view of this burgh.”

“Well, you won’t be forced to leave as long as I’m around,” Twilight said firmly. “You’re my guest, and you can stay here for as long as you need, pitchfork-wielding mob or no.”

Trixie let a smile trace her face. “Trixie appreciates the sentiment,” she sighed. “But it is not necessary. As soon as Trixie is recovered, she will be heading to Canterlot.”

Twilight’s eyes went wide. “But why--”

“When one has managed to rescue not one, but two babies from a burning building and get yelled at for one’s trouble, one begins to wonder if one’s attempts to do right are worth it.” Trixie turned away from the princess’s wide, hurt eyes. “Trixie came here to find Starlight. Once her wagon is removed from the mud, she will leave. For good, this time.”

***

Redheart trotted down the hospital halls, humming softly to herself. Her smile quickly faded, though, when she turned a corner and ran smack into a veritable wall of ponies. “What on good green Gaea?” she sputtered, pushing through the mob. “Medical professional coming through! Clear the way!”

Some effort was made on the part of the mob to make a sufficient path for Redheart to walk through, but it was excruciatingly slow going. Suddenly, she felt a hoof wrap around hers, and she turned to see Dr. Horace Stable, the hospital’s chief administrator, right behind her, horn glowing. “Brace yourself,” he said. In a flash, they had both teleported into a much emptier room.

“Horace, what in the name of Luna is going on out there?” she demanded.

Dr. Stable sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his forehead. “You know, of course, that Mr. and Mrs. Cake have been hospitalized following the explosion.”

Redheart frowned. “Are you saying all those ponies are well-wishers?” she asked. “I know they’re well-liked, but this is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous is the word for it, Red,” Dr. Stable replied grimly, replacing his spectacles. “I’m sure there are legitimate visitors out there somewhere, but most of them are just here to gawk and gossip. You heard they’re blaming Trixie for it?”

“Outrageous,” Redheart replied shortly. “I just got back from treating her at the castle. I very much doubt that she would have or could have done anything like this.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I can’t say I much care either way. What I do care about is the efficient running of this hospital, and these crowds have made that altogether impossible.”

“Alright. What do you want me to do?”

“I was hoping you might have a suggestion,” Dr. Stable replied glumly. “All I’ve been able to come up with is pulling the fire alarm.”

Redheart frowned. “I don’t suppose we’ve tried asking them to go away.”

“Do you really think that asking politely will get us anywhere?”

“Who said anything about ‘politely’?”

***

Carrot Top growled as she tried to shove her way through the mob of visitors. “Out of my way!” she bellowed. “I’m family, let me through!”

Written Script and Snails trailed along in her wake until all three came to a barricade. It had been crudely cobbled from cots and gurneys, all tied together with gauze bandages. Carrot scowled at it and bashed a hoof against the wall. “Let me in! My brother’s in there!” she shouted.

Nurse Sweetheart peered out from over the top. “I’m sorry, dearie, but there’s a three-visitor limit,” she shouted over the crowd’s babble. “And Golden Harvest and Daisy are already inside. You can come in if you like, but only you.”

Carrot hesitated and glanced back over her shoulder at her husband and foal. Written waved a hoof for her to go on ahead, they would be fine. She scowled, but walked through the hole in the barricade that the nurses had just opened.

“Hey! Snails! Buddy!”

Snails glanced around. Through the swarm of tramping hooves, they could just about see the face of their best friend in the world, Snips. Snails glanced up. “Hey, dad, can I go an’ talk with Snips?”

Written glanced over at the green colt, then nodded. “Great! See you later!”

Snails pushed through the crowd. Their skinny, gangly form was just right for skirting around pushy ponies, and they had soon made it to the other side of the hallway. “What’s up, Snips?”

Before the other unicorn could reply, Snails found that their hooves were no longer touching the ground, and all the air was slipping out of their lungs. “OhSnails Iwassosorrytohearbout youruncle! Wecameassoonasweheard! Areyoualright? IsthereanythingIcando?”

Snails let out a faint wheeze. Zipporwhill sighed. “Mom, I don’t think they can breathe.”

Sea Breeze gasped and clutched the foal tigher. “Ohno! WhatcanIdo? Doctor, doctor, helpusplease!”

“Ma, put them down,” Snips said.

Almost immediately, the pegasus released her grip, sending Snails sprawling to the floor and gasping for oxygen. “Why don’t you go ask Mr. Script if there’s anything you can do, mom?” Zipporwhill suggested. “He’s right over there.”

“Whatagoodidea! Youkidsjuststaysafenow.”

In a flash, she was on the other side of the hall, hovering right next to Written’s alarmed face, chattering away like billy-o. Zipporwhill gave Snails a sympathetic look. “Are you okay, though?” she asked.

Snails shrugged. “Eh, they’ll be okay,” they said nonchalantly. “I heard Dr. Coldheart say so.”

“That’s good,” Snips said. “Hey, let’s go outside. It’s too crowded in here.”

“K”.

Zipporwhill frowned. “Shouldn’t we tell mom or Mr. Script before we do that?”

“Hey, Zip, I don’t think Snails saw that new trick you taught Ripley.”

The filly gasped. “Oh my gosh, you have to see the new trick I taught Ripley!” She zoomed off.

Snips gave Snails a lopsided smirk. “Little sisters are so easy to manipulate.”

“You’re only thirty seconds older,” Snails reminded him.

“Oh, shut up, or I won’t tell you what I overheard Miss Cheerilee saying this morning.”

Snails frowned. “But I already know about the Skyzantine Empire test…”

“No, the other thing! Listen…”

It was fortunate that the crowd was so loud already, or else Snails’ gasp of sheer delight would not have gone so unnoticed.

***

Trixie regarded her lunch. “Trixie doesn’t understand. Where is the apple surprise?”

Applejack gestured to the orange slices. “There.”

Pinkie giggled. “Orange you surprised they aren’t apples?”

“Ah.” Trixie nodded. “Very droll.”

Pinkie glanced from Applejack to Trixie and back again. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, Mackie and I have a wagon to un-stick, so we’ll just leave you to your lunch!”

Before either mare could stop her, Pinkie pronked over to where Mac was waiting by the door. “Bye!” she called waving energetically.

There was silence. “So,” said Applejack.

“...So,” Trixie returned. After a moment, she continued. “It has come to this.”

“Whut?”

“Trixie does not know either, but it seemed as good a reply as any.”

“Hmph. I got a few bones Ah wanna pick with you, Miss Magician.”

Trixie considered flirting at her, but decided that would probably backfire badly. “Trixie has very little other than time,” she replied instead.

“Ah wanna know why th’ Sam Hill you keep comin’ back here,” Applejack said. “Time after time, jes’ gettin’ knocked down over and over again.”

“Various reasons,” Trixie replied simply. “The inner machinations of my mind are a mystery even to myself.”

Applejack snorted. “Ah kin believe that,” she said drily. “Fine. Why now?”

Trixie looked down at her plate. “Trixie had been doing well,” she said simply. “She attracted the interest of some…” her lip curled. “Trixie would prefer not to say.”

Applejack shrugged. “Suit yerself. Ah ain’t gonna pry.”

Trixie ate a few bites of the egg. “Trixie does not believe she has come across this recipe before,” she said.

“Ah boil ‘em in applesauce.”

“Aha.” They sat in silence. “You have other questions.”

“Ain’t none of my nevermind.”

“Trixie has already bared her soul once today. Give her a go.”

Applejack glowered. “Why are you such a jerk?”

Trixie toyed with her orange slices. “Trixie grew up in Neigh Orleans,” she said. “In the house of Lulamoon, said to be descended from Luna herself.”

“So that’s what gave you such a big ego.”

Trixie glared at her. “You say that, but you never met Trixie’s parents. You never met her brother. That Macintosh, what is he to you?”

“Big brother.”

“You love each other, yes? Care, nurture, protect, and so forth?”

“Well, sure. That’s what families do.”

“It is what families ought to do,” Trixie corrected. She raised a hoof and pulled the hair to one side. “This is what Trixie’s family did.”

Applejack stared at the long scar. “Trixie’s brother is a summoner. One of the most powerful alive today,” Trixie said. “He practiced a great deal as a child, and he needed a steady supplier of blood, or tears, or sweat, or whatever the demon of the day demanded. His own dear little sister fit the bill well enough. She was too weak and disgraced to aspire any higher than that anyway. Her parents didn’t care, not while the golden boy was winning scholarships and building a sorcerous empire.”

She set her hoof down. “Do you understand now? Do you see why Trixie might want to be bold and bombastic? Do you see how-- easy-- it was? How hard it was? How-- how--”

It was all too much for her. She broke down, shoving away the plate. She heard the crash as it struck the floor and she thought about how much more Applejack must hate her, now that she’d ruined the lunch she had prepared. In the next second, though, she felt a pair of hooves rubbing her back, embracing her. “Shh, shh, it’s alright sugarcube… It’s alright.”

She felt foreign tears spattering on her coat. She remembered Flora and Fauna giving her an extra beignet on the bad days, and Doctor Southern Comfort patching up her wounds, and Old Jack down by the docks who watched her do the same trick fifty times over, helping her to get it just right. She wondered if this was how family was supposed to feel.

***

Carrot Top’s demeanor softened as soon as she entered the room. “How’re they doing?” she asked gruffly.

Her twin sister, Golden Harvest, didn’t look away from where her baby brother lay unconscious. Goldie’s wife, Daisy Bouquet, was the one who replied. “The doctors say they’re in a bad way, but they should make a full recovery. Carrot got the worst of it. He was closer to the explosion, and he hit his head on the counter as he fell. He’ll be alright, though. They both will.”

Carrot Top relaxed very slightly. “Good. That’s… good. How are the twins?”

“Pinkie brought them to us. Lily fainted as soon as she got the news, but Rose is more than capable of keeping track of them.”

Carrot Top relaxed a little more. “Thank Celestia.” And then she scowled and all the tension was back again. “Damn that mare.”

Golden looked around, startled. “Who, Cup?”

“No!”

“Pinkie?” Daisy asked.

“No! Trixie! She comes back to Ponyville, and not even a day later, this happens! It’s too much of a coincidence.”

Both mares stared at her. “Topsy,” Golden said gently. “Do you think you might be over--”

“I AM NOT OVERREACTING!”

Daisy shrunk back with a startled shriek, but Golden remained steadfast. “Topsy. Take a deep breath,” she ordered.

Carrot Top glowered, but did as she was told. “Now out… now in… now out. Better?”

“No,” Carrot replied, sullen.

Golden Harvest raised a brow. “Fine! Maybe a little,” Carrot caved. “But it doesn’t help the Cakes, does it?”

“No,” Golden allowed. “But neither does flying off the handle.”

Carrot’s scowl tightened. “You have a point,” she admitted grudgingly. “Directionless anger won’t help anypony.”

Golden relaxed. “Good, I’m glad you--”

“I have a better plan.” Carrot said, turning on her hoof and marching out of the room.

Golden turned to Daisy, her heart sinking. “Please tell me she isn’t going to do something stupid.”

“She isn’t going to do something stupid,” Daisy replied obediently.

Golden sighed and hugged her wife. “If only I could believe that…”

Out in the hall, there was the crackling sound of a magic-powered bullhorn. “Attention! Attention everypony! If you are not either a patient or a medical professional, please leave the building in an organized fashion!”

There was the sound of discontented grumbling. “Alright then, fine!” Redheart shouted. “We’ll do this the hard way! Vinyl Scratch has been kind enough to loan us a portable record player, and we’re about to use it to play ten hours of polka rap! Starting in ten! Nine! Eight!”

The sound of thundering hooves filled the hall, and then all was silence. Golden glanced at Daisy. “Do you suppose that includes us?”

Daisy didn’t answer. She was already halfway out the window.

***

Meanwhile, across town, Bonbon measured out a cup of flour. Tonight was her roomateversary with Lyra, and if the past three years were anything to go by, the unicorn expected a candlelit dinner, followed by a film or bowling. And still she had the nerve to get upset when ponies assumed they were dating. A rare smile graced Bonbon’s lips. Dating or not, Lyra was one of the two most important ponies in her life. “Aunt Bonbon? I can’t reach the thpaghetti.”

The other, of course, was her dear niece, Peppermint Twist. Her brother and his ex-wife weren’t the best-suited for parenthood, and so Bonbon was generally left to pick up the slack. She wasn’t happy about the situation. She resented her brother, on one level, for being so unprepared and irresponsible. On the other hoof, she got to spend more time with her sweet niece, and that made her almost not completely grumpy.

“I can’t come over there right now, Pep. The stepstool is right by the fridge.” She dumped the flour into the melted butter and whisked it quickly.

“I’m on the thtepthtool!” Twist protested. “I thtill can’t reach!”

Bonbon hesitated and looked at the roux she was preparing. It could sit there for a few seconds without her, surely. She let the whisk fall and rushed over to the cabinet. Sure enough, the spaghetti was all the way in the back of the pantry. She grabbed it out and was about to hurry back to her sauce when the heard it. Heard the faint whining whistle in the air. Her eyes fell on the saucepan. It was bubbling an awful lot, wasn’t it? Her training from SMILE kicked in with a vengeance.

“Pep,” she said with forced calm. “Get on my back and hold on for dear life.”

Twist didn’t ask any questions. She fell onto her auntie’s back and gripped her around the barrel like a cream-colored koala. Bonbon took off at a gallop, racing for the back door, getting as far as she could from what was to come. She rounded the bend. The door was in her sight, now. How much sauce had she made? A pint? It didn't matter, not without knowing what she had actually put in it.

The door was locked. She smashed off the handle with a slicing downwards blow and pushed the door open. There was an earth-shattering kaboom, and a fireball raced down the hall after them. Bonbon was already in midair, but she felt the prickling heat on her backside. Twist screamed, exultant and terrified in equal measure. Bonbon landed with a thump in Lyra’s ornamental duck pond. It took every ounce of restraint she had not to turn her landing into a roll, spare her knees. Instead, she forced herself to bear the shock and save her passenger instead. “Pep, are you alright?”

No reply. “Pep? Pep!”

The little filly stared back at her, wide-eyed. Was she catatonic? Going into cardiac arrest? Was she-- “Let’th do that again!”

No. She was just an adrenaline junkie.

Comments

[Prince Leviathan]

Oh Twist