Keep Pretending, Two of Three

by Impossible Numbers

Illusion Confusion

Trixie had pulled off the Hoofdini Half-Life, the single most devious escapology trick in history. Yet no lessons about chains, ropes, sacks, chests, tanks full of water full of sharks full of bloodlust, and whirring knife things that’d kill anyone without the brains of an escapologist, had prepared her for a simple chat with a loony.

“Trixie, that was amazing!” said the mare, voice echoing in the caravan she’d broken into. “Your magic is the greatest in all Equestria!”

Trixie had already tried “I think I see a friend over there”. She’d hazarded a “Sorry can’t stay stage-hooves need my help”. She’d even thrown out the classic “I’ve got a boyfriend waiting”, which was about as barefaced a lie as she could utter without her hat catching fire.

“Look,” she said for the umpteenth time, “I know what it says on the poster. That is advertising.”

“But you really did make the elephant vanish!”

“Well, yes…”

“And you really did make metal hoops turn into sticks!”

“A mere magician’s warmup act.”

“Then you dived into that glass of water, and I drank it, and you were gone, and then I spat it up, and you jumped out of it and landed next to me! Cos you really did it, didn’t you?”

Professional pride prodded Trixie’s lips into a smirk. “One is capable of such fantastical feats.”

“Then that proves it: You’re a princess!”

Once more, Trixie groaned for the oncoming battle. This sometimes happened in her career. She used to encourage it. Nothing quite upheld the mystical mystery like pretending she was a long-lost royal.

But she was supposed to be past all that, reformed, redeemed, et cetera. So alas, this nonsense had to stop.

“I told you,” she said, “it was showmareship.”

“If it’s showmareship, then tell me how it’s done.”

“A magician never reveals her secrets to anyone else!”

“Then it’s magic. Q.E.D.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“How could it be done with trickery, then? It has to be magic! You’re just saying that to stop unbelievers figuring it out. But I’m a believer. You can trust me.”

Trixie wiped her face down. What really got to her was that she couldn’t say magic didn’t exist. It’d be so easy if she could say that and stop the debate right now. But everyone knew it existed. Twilight proved it existed, in vast quantities.

“It’s obvious! You’re a princess! But in hiding! We’ve seen right through it!” said the mare. She held out a booklet. “Our society would love to welcome you! We meet every Wednesday at the Dancing Dog. It’d be the greatest thing ever!”

Grimly, Trixie stared down at the booklet.

“The Followers of the One True Princess?” Trixie swallowed.

“Yeah! We deciphered the decorations in your posters. See how the confetti makes the symbol of the sun in this corner? And that confetti makes the symbol of deception in the ancient pegasus language?”

“Have you ever heard of pareidolia?” said Trixie, who’d picked the term up from Twilight once.

Now the mare trembled with excitement. “Princess Trixie… may I… have your cape?”

“What!?”

“Your cape! So we can worship it on Wednesdays.”

Trixie threw it as though it were a steak for rabid dogs. To her horror, the mare kissed it and then bent down and kissed Trixie’s hoof.

Even worse, the mare leaned forwards and whispered, “Don’t worry, Princess! We’re organizing a plan to overthrow the pretenders on the Canterlot thrones. As soon as we’ve got enough members, you’ll have your rightful place.”

“Has it occurred to you,” said Trixie, wiping the sweat off her brow, “that I could do that myself?”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want you wasting your time doing lowly magic like that. You’ve got higher concerns to worry about.”

Despite knowing that this mare had paid to see her perform stage tricks instead of the lowly magic of overthrowing monarchs, Trixie nevertheless said, “Such as?”

“Secretly running world politics! And economy! And the universe!”

Trixie looked around desperately. “Is there a window in here?”

“Just there.”

“I… thank you for your diligence, faithful soul. And now I’d like to reward you with a fiendishly impossible vanishing act.”

“Well… Okay, but the window’s not open –”

Trixie crashed through it. Cursing and full of glass bits, she galloped beyond this town’s borders.

“I knew I’d been here before,” she muttered in-between panting. “Stupid old posters! Now I’ll need a new caravan. I can’t come back here. Thanks for nothing, past me!”

Comments

[Scholarly-Cimmerian]

Poor Trixie.

[Tranquil Serenity]

Trixie has crazy fans, who knew? Thanks for the read.

[Impossible Numbers]

9734804

You're welcome.