Princess Trixie of Transylmaneia

by AlexTFish

Chapter 3

I am the Princess Ethereal Requiem, of the House of Ravens, and next in line to the Iron Throne of Nightcrag. It is a matter of public record that my sire is the Queen’s younger brother. My claim to the royal succession is clear. I have been raised in the Court all my life, instructed in diplomacy, etiquette, law and politics, and prepared from a young age for my accession to the throne.

The contrast between myself and the upstart Trixie Lulamoon is, I trust, apparent. Not only is she uncouth, indiscreet, and untrained; but worst of all, she is not familiar with Transylmaneian traditions. She does not know our ways, and she would bring division and disrepute to the noble line of Carmine.

She even seeks to boost her popularity by deceiving the common ponies of Transylmaneia. I do not believe her wings are real.

“And why is that?” Rarity asked, cocking her head at the batpony.

“I have seen Trixie Lulamoon on previous occasions. Even before the Queen’s sickness was announced publicly, when Trixie Lulamoon was a mere travelling magician.” Ethereal Requiem sneered over the last phrase as if it were “outhouse cleaner”.

“In particular, I have observed that she was a mere unicorn when she visited on her prior sojourns. Her claim that she kept her wings beneath her cloak is laughable. Accordingly, I conclude they are fake, and I expect my investigators to find evidence of this within days.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow at that, but all she said was, “When did you first met Trixie face to face?”

“As I said, I have seen her show several times in previous years,” replied Ethereal Requiem drily. “But after her ill-advised decision to insert herself into Transylmaneian politics… My agents reported her activities to me within a day, but I only met her myself when she arrived at Nightcrag.”

“Could you tell me what happened there, in your own words?”

“Of course…

Trixie arrived at the city of Nightcrag with her ridiculous wagon, accompanied by several Transylmaneian commoners, one of whom had his own wagon as well. She had acquired her bat wings by this point; from whence I still do not know. She came straight to the palace and demanded an audience with the Queen.

I was the first noble to meet her upon her arrival. I conveyed to her the inadvisability of her course of action, but she would not be dissuaded, so I had a servant relay her request to the Queen’s staff. I must say I was surprised that her Majesty acceded within the hour, and bade us both join her in her throne room. I led Trixie into the throne room, and observed with satisfaction as the gargoyles bowed to me when I walked between them.

You must understand, her Majesty’s throne room is designed to be opulent. Obsidian pillars, golden and crimson velvet drapes, onyx and rubies inlaid in the lampstands. Yes, I see from your expression you can imagine it, Rarity. The intent is to show visiting dignitaries that Transylmaneia is a prosperous and powerful province and convey a proper respect for the throne.

Trixie Lulamoon did not appear to comprehend this. “Flashy,” was her word as she entered. Ugh.

Unlike Trixie Lulamoon, I know her Majesty. I am familiar with my aunt’s emotions and expressions. So I could see the Queen’s eyes widen when she saw Trixie enter, wings held high. I will admit I was dismayed that her Majesty seemed to believe Trixie was the alicorn she pretends to be. Trixie bowed before the throne, but rudely, at the angle one might use to greet a party host, not the monarch of a province.

Trixie said, “Your Majesty, I thank you for welcoming me here. It has been many years since I left as a foal. I am… sorry that it should be such unfortunate circumstances that prompt my return.”

“Do I know you?” Her Majesty always speaks with a soft tone, even when she is ordering somepony’s death. Which was not what she was doing yet, but she was leaving the option open...

I observed Trixie Lulamoon gulp, but her voice was still strong. “I am your filly, your Majesty. You are my mother.”

Her Majesty’s mahogany aura seized Trixie and lifted her into the air before her. I shall not claim it was not satisfying to see the upstart’s hooves flail while suspended by the royal magic.

“You have ascended since I saw you last,” she noted. Dispassionately. As a true ruler should. “And I take it it is no coincidence you reappear before me only now my health is failing?”

Trixie bowed once again — a challenging act to perform when held in the air by magic — and said, “The Great and Powerful Trixie has been pursuing her own path for too long. It was only hearing your news that made me realise my place was here. I am truly sorry.”

“Are you indeed.” Her Majesty set Trixie down before the throne. “You seek to rule Transylmaneia upon my retirement.”

“If that is your will… Mother.”

“You are aware I have designated Ethereal Requiem as my successor, the crown princess?” I bowed in acknowledgement. My bow was to the correct degree.

Trixie Lulamoon chose this moment to become forceful. “Your Majesty, your people are suffering. The nobles here in Nightcrag take the good produce of your land and leave the commoners with dregs and scraps! And this Ethereal Requiem, wonderful pony though I’m sure she is, will just do more of the same. Your Majesty… the batponies of Transylmaneia deserve better than her. They deserve a Great and Compassionate ruler.”

“Monarchy does not pass to the most deserving citizen. Ethereal Requiem is my successor.” Her Majesty was testing Trixie’s determination.

Regrettably, determination is one thing of which the upstart has an overabundance. “The Great and Compassionate Trixie is no mere citizen. I am your heir. All that’s needed is for you to declare me legitimate, and I become your successor.”

Even more regrettably, determination is a quality of which her Majesty is fond. I doubt Trixie observed it, but I could see her Majesty smile. “And you believe the Transylmaneian citizens would prefer you rule rather than Ethereal Requiem?”

“Yes, your Majesty, I do.”

The Queen stood, and flared her own wings, infinitely more regal with their charcoal membrane and scarlet propatagium than those of the upstart. “Then I shall give you a chance to prove your claim, Trixie the ‘Great and Compassionate’. In two weeks’ time, my court will meet for their last session of my reign. I shall invite each of the nine senior courtponies to give their recommendation as to which of the two of you princesses should be my successor. Whichever of the two of you earns the favour of the majority of the court shall be the next Queen of Transylmaneia.”

Then the Queen turned to me and said, “What say you, Ethereal Requiem?”

I… was displeased to hear her Majesty’s proclamation. I have spent many moons preparing to rule Transylmaneia: learning all I needed to know, training, negotiating, and ruling a barony. My time of accession to the throne had been drawing near, and my first reaction was to view this as an unwelcome complication.

But as I contemplated further, I realised it would be an opportunity. To solidify support for myself: not against Trixie — the upstart had no chance of winning over the court who had known me all my life — but amongst the general citizenry. My reign would have more legitimacy if I had fought off a contender, even be it an outsider who knows nothing of our traditions.

So I bowed to my Queen and said, with the correct amount of deference in my voice, “Your scheme is excellent, your Majesty. Let it be as you say.”

And when Trixie and I left the throne room, it was still me to whom the gargoyles bowed.