> The Wyrd of a Dragon
>  by Gizogin
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Guard
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Wyrd of a Dragon
Chapter One






"Thank you!  Thank you all!  The Great and Powerful Trixie will be signing autographs after the show, so stick around!"

With a final bow and a puff of smoke, Trixie disappeared from the stage.  As the audience cheered and stomped, the curtain fell on Trixie's most successful performance to date.  Every trick had been perfect, from escaping a safe underwater to turning a volunteer into an orange tree.  Her show kept getting better and better, drawing crowds from as far as Vanhoover to see her little Manehattan act.

From beneath a trapdoor in the stage, Trixie took a moment just to listen to the ponies yelling and chatting happily amongst themselves.  This was what magic was all about.  Bright lights, a real stage, ponies from all over Equestria screaming her name; it was heaven.  Well, she thought, adjusting her star-adorned hat and matching cape, Trixie can't stay here forever.  There are fans waiting!

With a spring in her step and a smile - a real smile! - on her face, Trixie trotted over to the door that would take her backstage, where her assistants would be ready to freshen up her makeup and be sure her fans would see only the best Trixie there was.  Not that Trixie needed much help; she was Trixie, after all.  Still, they were good at what they did, and having a few extra eyes looking out for her was a comfort.  A flourish of pink magic threw the door open, the lighting backstage forcing Trixie to shield her eyes until they adjusted from the darkness of the hidden room.

There were no stagehands waiting for her.  Where they should have been, instead stood a pony with a coat the color of the morning sky.  She towered over Trixie, even without the spiral horn that could have held three of Trixie's own comfortably, or the wings spread lazily at her sides, the feathers casting odd, dancing shadows in the bright light.  Her mane looked for all the world like a section of the night sky, dotted with stars and fluttering in a wind that wasn't there.

"Princess Luna," Trixie breathed.  She barely even noticed that she'd dropped to a knee, her mind racing to figure out why the princess of the night would be here.  Had she done something wrong?  Not recently, as far as she could tell.  Was this about her last visit to Ponyville?  That was where Twilight Sparkle lived, and she was a princess herself, now.  The very memory of that meddling unicorn—alicorn, now—was infuriating.  Thrice Trixie had challenged Twilight to a test of magical skill, and the only time she hadn't been thoroughly humiliated, she'd been drunk with stolen power.

Trixie fervently hoped this unexpected appearance didn't have anything to do with one princess of friendship.  Besides, that had been a long time ago, and she'd even apologized!  No, Princess Luna had probably just come to watch the show.  She must have come backstage to congratulate Trixie on her act, or to offer her a job as the royal magician.  That made much more sense.  Trixie would have to decline, of course; her audience could never survive her absence.  The princess would understand.

"Trixie Lulamoon," the princess said, as though she could possibly be talking to somepony else.

After no more than a moment's hesitation, Trixie answered, "Yes?  Ahem, yes, Your Highness?"

"Princess Twilight Sparkle has requested your immediate presence.  Please, come with me."  Without another word, Luna turned and exited the building onto the busy Manehattan street, a spluttering Trixie following a moment later after trying and failing to get her heart rate back under control.





"Wait!" Trixie yelled, doing her best to keep up with Luna as she weaved through the veritable stampede of Manehattanites on one of the city's busiest streets.  While ponies parted around the princess like a stream around a stone, they afforded Trixie no such courtesy.  Luna did not reply or look back, but she did obligingly slow her pace and allow Trixie to catch up to her protective wake.

Only when the unicorn was beside her did Luna speak again.  "Apologies.  But we have little time to delay.  Please try to keep up."

"Is this about that incident in Ponyville?" asked a desperate Trixie.  She had no idea what sort of punishment was merited by forcibly enslaving an entire town with dark magic, but it couldn't be good.  Was that why they'd waited so long?  Had they just been trying to think of something suitably painful to subject her to?  "Trixie has changed!  She never—"

A sidelong glance from the princess abruptly halted Trixie's words.  "You have no need to fear.  Twilight has asked for your horn, not for your head."

"Horn?!"  They were going to cut off her horn!  It took Trixie all of  frantic heartbeat to throw a smoke bomb to the pavement and turn to bolt for the docks, with the intention of boarding a cargo ship to the homeland of the griffons, but Luna caught her in an iron grip before she could take more than two steps.

"Trixie Lulamoon!  Calm yourself!"  Luna's words had the force of a runaway train, and for a brief, hysterical moment, Trixie was almost hopeful that she'd gone deaf.  At least then she wouldn't have to hear Princess Twilight give the order to break her horn and cast her into the dungeons, stripped of her magic for the rest of her days.  Alas, sound soon filtered back into her perception, accompanied by a sharp ringing.

Princess Luna looked... apologetic.  "I am sorry, Miss Lulamoon," she said, the soft tone a distinct contrast to her last outburst.  "I did not mean to frighten you.  What I meant to say was that Twilight needs your magic.  She believes your talents may be uniquely able to help."

"Oh."  Trixie flushed with embarrassment and relief.  Twilight wasn't going to punish her after all.  Quite the opposite, in fact; Twilight needed her help!  Trixie straightened up proudly.  Princess Twilight thought Trixie had the magic to do...  something.  Well, whatever it was, it must have been something that Twilight couldn't do herself.  That thought made her deflate a little bit.  What sort of problem could stump one of the most powerful ponies in Equestria?

"What is Trixie being asked to do?"

The princess started walking again, once more waiting for Trixie to catch up before giving an answer.  "You are familiar with her assistant, Spike?"

The name didn't sound familiar.  Trixie thought back to her previous encounters with Twilight, trying to remember.  "The dragon?" she guessed.  The one Trixie turned into a basketball, she left unsaid.

Luna nodded in the affirmative.  "He collapsed last night.  At first, it seemed no more than exhaustion from a long day, but when he would not wake this morning, Twilight rushed him to the hospital."  She paused, glancing at the buildings passing them by.  "Equestrian medicine has precious little understanding of dragons, and without knowing what ails him, we have little hope of undoing it.  That," she said, turning to Trixie, "is where you come in."

"Is Trixie missing something here?"  This didn't make any sense.  Judging from Luna's stern expression, it didn't seem to be an elaborate joke at Trixie's expense, but that was the only explanation Trixie could think of.  "The Great and Powerful Trixie is many things, but she is no doctor."

The mention of Trixie's title seemed to amuse the princess.  "Were Spike awake, we could at least ask him what happened.  If he were dreaming, I could find the cause in his memories.  But whatever keeps him from waking does not let him sleep."

The pair of ponies turned down another street, presumably where the hospital was.  Trixie turned the information over in her head, trying to work out why it had been given to her.  "And Twilight thinks Trixie can, what?  Pull the memory out of his head?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"Wha– Trixie was joking!"





As Princess Luna led Trixie down the halls of the Bridleview Hospital Center, Manehattan's oldest hospital, Trixie felt distinctly ill-at-ease.  Nopony was ever happy to be in a hospital.  It wasn't the harsh light or the constant smell of disinfectant, unpleasant though they might be.  No, it was because the only reason to be there was because somepony was hurt.  They were places of sickness, stress, and too-thin sheets.  

Stress was definitely the word at play here.  Luna was being infuriatingly vague, refusing to elaborate on the bombshell she'd dropped on Trixie earlier, so Trixie's imagination was left to fill in the gaps.  Her attempts at rational explanation were hampered by the way her instincts kept telling her to jump out a window or pull a fire alarm; Luna had picked the wrong pony, and as soon as she and Twilight realized that Trixie couldn't help them, they would banish her for wasting their time.

No, Trixie insisted to herself, trying to fight the paranoia.  That would be illegal.  It would, wouldn't it?  The princesses don't have the power to arrest somepony for no reason.  But they do have the power to change the law...  Is that one of those ex post fructo things?  Oh, if only Trixie had paid attention in history!

Princess Luna finally came to a halt outside an otherwise unremarkable door, so abruptly that Trixie very nearly failed to stop in time.  "We are here," she announced.

When the princess made no move to open the door or show Trixie inside, Trixie said, "So, will you tell Trixie what she is expected to do now, or is she expected to divine Your Highness's intentions?  If so, Trixie would have brought her Tarot cards."  

The venom in the unicorn's voice seemed to take Luna by surprise, and she rounded on Trixie with something that could have been amusement.  It was the most reaction she'd shown since they'd left the theater.  Well, after the yelling.  "You are unusually bold, knowing your past.  I cannot tell if it is arrogance or bluster, but perhaps it does not matter."  The humor left Luna's face in an instant, leaving Trixie to face a coldness older and harder than mountains.  "Spike and Twilight Sparkle are beyond this door," she said.  "I consider myself fortunate beyond words to call them both my friends.  Twilight has asked for your help.  On her behalf, I have brought you here, but the decision to offer your aid, or not, must be yours."

Trixie opened her mouth to answer, but Luna wasn't done.  "You are here because Twilight believes you can help.  If she is wrong, it would be better for us all if you turned around and went back to your stage.  It will save us all time and anguish.  If, however, she is right, you may be Spike's best chance at a prompt recovery, and in my experience, Twilight is rarely wrong."

Trixie turned over the choices in her head.  If she had understood the princess correctly, this was her way out.  She could leave now, go back to her performance, and think no more on the matter.  Luna would not hold it against her; Trixie didn't know how, but she knew that the Princess of the Night would accept her decision.  Twilight Sparkle would... probably let her go, Trixie thought.  Their friendship, if one could be so bold as to call it that, might never recover, but Twilight Sparkle's accomplishments were legendary; she would find a way to wake Spike up, with or without her help.

On the other hoof, Twilight Sparkle had asked for Trixie's help.  It had not been an order; there was no royal weight behind the words, no legal repercussions should she refuse, but if word got out that Trixie had balked at a cry for help from the Princess of Friendship herself, it could be the end of her career.  Again.  

And what if she succeeded?  What if the Great and Powerful Trixie managed to heroically swoop in and solve a problem that even Twilight Sparkle could not manage?  She would be a legend!  More than that, Twilight Sparkle would be in Trixie's debt; there was no denying it was an attractive thought.

That was, of course, assuming she did succeed.  As proud of her fantastical talents as Trixie was, she knew that Twilight was in a different weight class when it came to magic.  Luna, too, was unable to help; what chance did Trixie have?  To go into Spike's mind and find a way to wake him up was so far outside of Trixie's experience that she still couldn't quite believe Luna had said it.

There was a door before her.  It looked like plain wood, painted white many years ago and yellowed by time, with a brass number plate and a simple knob, but it might as well have been the gate of Tartarus itself.  If Trixie opened it, there would be no going back.  

It was a long minute before Trixie made up her mind.  "Trixie will... I will do it."
> The Hero
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Wyrd of a Dragon
Chapter Two






Trixie entered the door to a very plain room.  A small bed took up the middle of the floor, with a smaller nightstand beside it that felt more like a concession than a comfort.  The dragon Trixie knew as Spike lay on the bed, wires running from a few small electrodes on his head to a series of softly beeping machines whose purpose was a mystery.  It was a sterile, uncomfortable scene, but not a surprising one.  In fact, apart from the dragon on the bed, it could have been the ward of any injured foal.  The only thing missing was the haggard parent.

Twilight Sparkle was no parent, but she had everything else right.  Sitting at a low table opposite the door, the princess scribbled furiously at something Trixie couldn't see.  Every inch of the walls, floor, and table around her was hidden beneath sheets of dense diagrams and equations, with even more floating in Twilight's magical grasp as she flicked her eyes between them and her current writing.  So enveloped in her work was Twilight that she took no notice of Trixie's entrance.

For a moment, Trixie remained silent, taking the opportunity to get her first look at Equestria's newest princess unnoticed.  Even sitting down, hunched over a table, it was obvious that Twilight had gained a few inches in height since their last meeting.  Her horn was longer, too, and the simple display of telekinesis she was putting on filled the room with an undercurrent of thrumming, invisible power.  Trixie had been, by her own admission, ever-so-slightly outmatched by Twilight's sheer power the first time they'd met; even at the height of her boasting, Trixie would never have claimed the ability to lift a bear the size of a large house back into its forest home by herself, but Twilight had done it.  And that had been before the wings.

Yes, there they were.  Feathered wings the same pale lavender as her coat and horn proved, more than any crown ever could, that Twilight Sparkle was no ordinary pony.  

She was one of the four princesses of Equestria.  And she wanted Trixie's help.

Well, Trixie is here.  Time to make an entrance.  She cleared her throat loudly, the sound carrying easily over the soft scratching of Twilight's quill.  "The Great and Powerful Trixie," she bellowed, "has arrived!"  The real trick was how she'd managed to hold the streamers and confetti under her hat this long, but Trixie thought they added just the right amount of flair.  

Twilight Sparkle's response was impressive in its complete and utter failure to appear.  In fact, if Trixie didn't know any better, she might have suspected that the princess hadn't heard her at all.  

"Ignore the Great and Powerful Trixie, will you?  Well, don't expect Trixie to repeat her performance!  She, ah, may have used the last of her streamers just then."

Still, there was no response, other than that infuriating scribbling.  If only Luna were there; Twilight would be hard-pressed to give her the cold shoulder then.  Alas, the other princess had not followed Trixie into the ward.

"Fine.  Trixie knows when she is beaten."  It took all of her effort, but the Humble and Apologetic Trixie could show respect when it was needed.  Taking a stiff, awkward knee, Trixie said, "The Great and-  Er, that is, Trixie is here, Your Highness."

With regal poise and an air of indomitable power, Princess Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship, regent of Ponyville, and former bearer of the Element of Magic, made no motion or acknowledgement of Trixie whatsoever.

Well then.  Defeated and mildly embarrassed, Trixie rose.  At least nopony saw that.  She trotted casually over to the table and tapped Twilight gently on the shoulder.  "Hey."

That, at last, managed to provoke a reaction.  Rather more of one than Trixie had expected, at that; with a startled yell, Twilight Sparkle tried to jump out of her seat.  Unfortunately for the princess, she was still pressed up against the table, and her leg caught it awkwardly, making her overbalance.  Wings flared, hooves flailed, and quill, papers, and princess fell to the ground, one rather less gently than the rest.

"Are you alright?" Trixie asked, panicked.  

Twilight Sparkle rubbed her cannon where it had struck the table, hissing through her teeth.  She would have quite a bruise tomorrow, but she looked otherwise unharmed.  Tired, with bags under her eyes and a few hairs out of place in her mane, but otherwise she seemed to be taking things remarkably well.  Trixie breathed a sigh of relief; she was in enough trouble as it was, without adding regal assault to the list.

"I'll survive,"  Twilight said.  "Sorry; I didn't know you were here already."

Of course, Trixie thought.  Outwardly, she said, "Trixie will be sure to announce herself next time."

"Right.  Good."  There was a pause while Twilight Sparkle climbed to her hooves, then she said, "Hello, Trixie, and thank you for coming, but we really don't have time to waste.  Did Luna explain the situation?"

"Vaguely, but-"

"It's very simple.  I'm going to create a partial-telepathic virtual bridge between your upper neural pathways and Spike's theta signatures with a memetic, symbolic comprehension overlay to aid in your cognition of the mental landscape.  Your job is to search the short-term impulse band to locate the source of his abnormal syncope."

Trixie blinked.  Does she not need to breathe?  "Oh.  Well, you should have just said so."

Taking another breath, Twilight said, "It means—"

"Trixie knows what it means."  

Her interruption seemed to have taken the wind out of the princess's sails.  "Right.  Sorry.  My friends aren't exactly versed in magical terminology, so..."  She trailed off.  "Anyway!  Will you help me?  Please?"

"Trixie would not have come otherwise."  It was almost true, at least.

"Okay.  Let's get started."  Twilight gestured to the now-slightly-more-scattered papers as she said, "I'd just finished working out the modifications to the original spell that will let me send somepony else in instead.  As soon as you're ready, we can start."

Ready?  How could Trixie possibly be ready to trot around in a dragon's memories, even if that dragon didn't probably hate Trixie and want to have nothing to do with her?  Still, she'd come this far.  Her chance to walk away had passed.  "Is there anything Trixie should be worried about?"

Twilight shook her head.  "It's perfectly safe," she assured.  "I've used it before.  You might feel a bit of vertigo for a second, but nothing worse than that."

"Then Trixie is as ready as she will ever be."





The spellcasting turned out to be a lot less dramatic than Trixie expected.  She and Twilight Sparkle took up positions on one side of Spike's bed, with Trixie sitting on a pillow and Twilight standing to her left, towards the head of the bed.  After one last check to make sure Trixie was ready, Twilight lit her horn and tapped it to Trixie's forehead, just below the front of her luxurious, silver mane.  The touch of the princess's aura was electrifying, sending involuntary shudders down Trixie's spine.  There was power there, true power, subtler and yet more concrete, more real, than the pitiful imitation she had once tried to claim.  Twilight's horn thrummed, a vibration that wasn't seen or heard but felt, and then it stopped.  Trailing a streamer of pale magenta from the point of contact, Twilight repeated the motion on the unconscious Spike.  As soon as the ribbon of light connected pony to dragon, Trixie's vision went dark and a tugging sensation at the root of her horn seemed to pull her forwards, even while she knew she hadn't moved.

When Trixie could finally see again, she found herself at the foot of an enormous spire of rock.  She would have called it a mountain, but mountains had peaks; this structure just went up forever.  Trixie tried to follow it with her eyes, but only briefly.  The dark, craggy tower was almost imposing enough to make her lose her nerve as it was.

If she'd understood Twilight's explanation properly, what Trixie was seeing now was some sort of mental illusion, meant to make sense of the inner workings of a pony's—or dragon's—mind.  This jet-black pillar, then, must have represented something significant about Spike.  Trixie tried not to think too hard about what.

"Who goes there?" called a voice from in front of her.  Trixie looked to its source and found a massive, elaborately armored figure standing before a pair of heavy, iron doors set into the stone.  It stood at ease, legs apart, with one hand closed around the shaft of a lance, the handle of which rested on the ground.

What's a minotaur doing here, of all places? Trixie wondered, but a second glance revealed that, whatever this being was, it was no minotaur.  Its knees were wrong, for one thing, and it had no horns; in place of any semblance of a mane, it had a ridge of green spines running over the top of its head.  On closer inspection, what Trixie had initially assumed to be rings of decorative mail were, in fact, small scales of deep purple and pale green.

Trixie could have kicked herself.  She only knew of one creature with those colors, and she was in his head right now.

"Greetings!" Trixie called, her voice booming with confidence she wasn't sure she felt.  Still, she hadn't been performing on stage and on the road all her life without learning how to hide a bit of nerves.  Muscle memory, or the mental equivalent, smoothed her words and lent her a greater presence than any pony facing down a dragon in his own mind had any right to show.  "The Great and Powerful Trixie would speak with Spike the Dragon."

That seemed to amuse the guard.  He grinned, as though at some private joke; the action revealed wickedly sharp teeth.  "Does she now," he mused.  Adjusting his grip on the lance, he said, "And what makes you think I'll listen to what you have to say?"  The grin vanished, the guard's face becoming cold and fierce.  "You're not welcome here, Trixie."  He spat the name out with such venom that Trixie nearly flinched.  Nearly.

"Trixie is here on the order of Princess Twilight Sparkle.  Stand aside."

"Hah!" Spike barked; it was a laugh utterly devoid of humor.  "You're not a guard; Twilight couldn't order you to take off your hat.  Last chance, Trixie."

So much for bluffing my way in, Trixie thought.  Time to try something drastic.  "Do you promise to keep what Trixie is about to tell you a secret?"

Without hesitating, Spike drew a claw in an X over his chest, then touched it lightly to one eye.  "Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye."  He pronounced the schoolyard rhyme with all the gravity of a sworn oath, somehow managing to convey that he would keep her secret at almost any cost.

It was as good as Trixie was likely to get.  "Twilight asked for my help," she said, some of the bravado sliding out of her voice.  "She's worried about you.  And Trixie is not about to disappoint a princess."

That earned another flash of that wicked grin, but this time there was actual warmth to it.  "Now that, I can believe."  Without turning around, Spike rapped a fist on the door behind him, and it swung noiselessly open.  Flickering, green light spilled onto the dirt, and Spike hefted the lance over his shoulder as he turned to head inside, gesturing for Trixie to follow.

"Welcome," the dragon announced as they crossed the threshold, "to the mind of Spike."
> The Assistant
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Wyrd of a Dragon
Chapter Three





Once Trixie had passed through the great iron doors, Spike pushed them gently closed behind them.  "So," he said, casually, "what brings you to my head?"

Trixie didn't answer right away, instead taking a moment to examine her surroundings.  That a dragon's mind would appear as a cave wasn't much of a surprise.  The walls were clearly made of the same dark rock as the outside, though these had been smoothed and shaped with what must have been a great deal of effort.  Regularly spaced tapestries softened the image somewhat, depicting brightly clad figures in triumphant poses.  Between them stood suits of armor, and the center of the floor was taken up by plush, blue carpeting.  All together, it looked like the entrance to a castle or palace, rather than the cavern it should have been.

For a moment, Trixie wondered at what these decorations could mean, but the words "Power Ponies", emblazoned in bright yellow thread on some of the tapestries, were a pretty big hint.  These were posters, of the sort a colt might hang in his bedroom; the difference was that, instead of ink on glossy paper, these used silk.  The carpet could, with a bit of imagination, represent a favorite blanket, right down to the worn and faded threads from regular washing.  Even the armored stands, though imposing at first, were clearly designed to look impressive and intimidating, with no consideration to their functionality.  It was telling, Trixie thought, that Spike had evidently chosen the protection of his own scales and a few pieces of steel over any of the pieces on display.

Trixie decided that Twilight's spell was far too metaphorical for her tastes.  All it had to say was, "young, but mature for his age."  Unless it's "pretending to be older than he is."

Behind Trixie, Spike cleared his throat.  The sound made her jump; she'd almost forgotten he was there.  "Oh, um, right," she fumbled, before quickly recovering her natural poise.  "Trixie is here to find out why Spike—that is, you—will not wake up."

Spike scratched his chin thoughtfully.  "I really hate to say this, but I'm not the Spike you want.  The Assistant is more of an answers guy; he might be able to help you."  Trixie could all but hear the capital letter.

"Well, then, tell Trixie where to find this 'Assistant,'" Trixie said.  After a moment, she added, "Please."

"I can't do that," Spike said, shaking his head.  Forestalling Trixie's outburst with an upraised hand, he clarified, "I'm not trying to stop you, but the mind of a dragon is no place for a pony to wander around by herself, least of all you.  No, instead, I'll show you where the Assistant is."  Under his breath, quiet enough that Trixie had to strain her ears to hear it, he muttered, "Good luck getting anything from him, though."

'Least of all me'?  What's that supposed to mean?  Trixie held her tongue, allowing Spike to lead her to the doors at the opposite end of the room.  They were simpler than the doors leading outside, but Trixie doubted they'd be any less heavy.  The entire structure had an air of solidity to it, and Trixie had to wonder what sort of upbringing Spike had had to give him such fortitude.  Or is this just part of being a dragon?

As before, all it took to open the way forward was a sharp knock from Spike.  Beyond the doors, a long, low hallway stretched off to either side, its rough walls illuminated by flickering, green torchlight.  "Come on," Spike said, heading down the left corridor.  "Stay close, and don't get lost.  These tunnels are full of danger."

"Right."  

And so, pony and dragon set off together to find the one Spike had called 'the Assistant.'





Trixie had no idea how long they'd been walking.  There were no landmarks in the tunnels, save for the regularly-spaced torch brackets, and she'd long since lost count of how many they'd passed.  Spike, at least, seemed to know where they were going; he never hesitated when the pair reached a fork in the tunnels.  He didn't say a word the whole time, nor did he acknowledge Trixie's presence at all, except to occasionally make sure she was still following.  With every step, Spike's mood seemed to sour, and the combination of the dark, oppressive stone, the ever-moving shadows, and her companion's gloomy attitude set Trixie's nerves on edge.

"How much further do you expect Trixie to walk?" she demanded, finally.  

Spike grunted.  "We're nearly there."  Lifting a claw to point ahead, he said, "The Assistant is just around that bend."

"Well, what are we waiting for?  Let's hurry up, so Trixie can get out of here."  Eager to reach her destination, Trixie picked up the pace, breaking into a canter and overtaking the dragon.  She only made it a few paces before a tug on her tail brought her to a halt.

"Don't."  Spike had Trixie's glorious, silver tail in his grip, holding the unicorn in place.  His expression was just as dour as it had been since they'd set off; other than to stop Trixie's run, he hadn't reacted at all.

"Let go of Trixie!" Trixie yelled.  "How dare you lay a hand on her tail?"

"I told you to stay close to me," Spike replied mildly.  He let go of Trixie's hair, and the unicorn set about fixing the damage his claws had done to her perfect grooming.

"'Stay close'?  You just said our destination is ahead!  Besides, we've walked for Celestia knows how long and we haven't seen any of these dangers you were so concerned about."

As if Trixie had never tried to run off, Spike resumed his steady pace.  Trixie grumbled bad-naturedly, but settled in behind him once again.  If he wants to be that way, fine, she thought.  Trixie will play along.  Anything to get back to her stage.

Finally, the pair stopped in front of a simple, wooden door.  Spike hadn't lied; it had only barely been out of sight.  Now that she could see it, however, Trixie wasn't sure what she was looking at.  It couldn't have belonged to any normal house or building; it wasn't rectangular, nor even rounded as in some older cottages.  It came to a point at the top, and the edges were uneven and slightly lopsided.  The whole thing had been generously coated in bright red paint, making a marked contrast from the dull stone of its surroundings.

"Here we are," Spike announced, knocking twice on the door.  He didn't wait for a response, from Trixie or from inside, before pushing his way in and calling, "Assistant!  Where are you?"

Trixie stepped inside, paused, closed her eyes, opened them, closed them again, took a deep breath, and opened them once more.  The room she had just entered didn't belong here.  It was made of wood.  It smelled like leaves and ink.  It even had windows!

Trixie knew she had just been in a dark tunnel deep within a mountain, and yet here was a room that could have been carved out of a giant tree.  In fact, looking around, Trixie realized that was exactly what it was.  The circular wall that surrounded the space had had shelves carved into it, upon which hundreds of books of all colors and sizes rested.  The floor and ceiling displayed growth rings, bands of light and dark wood that told of a tree generations old.  A pair of doors on opposite sides of the room presumably led to offices or living space, while a set of stairs that hadn't been built so much as the rest of the space had simply been carved around them led up to the next floor.

It was down these stairs that the Assistant made his appearance.  He must have been the Assistant, for this was where he was supposed to be; Trixie just hadn't expected him to be a pony.

"I am here," he said flatly.  He spoke with Spike's voice, but to hear it from this colt's mouth was unsettling.  From his height and general lankiness, Trixie would have pegged him as a young teenager, but he had no cutie mark.  In fact, he was almost entirely nondescript.  The only distinguishing characteristics of this pony were his bright green mane, gelled and shaped into spikes, and his brilliant, emerald eyes.

"I brought Trixie," the Spike beside Trixie said, addressing the pony with Spike's colors, who had begun searching through the bookshelves nearest to him.  Spike - that is, the version of him with scales and armor - spoke tersely; evidently, he didn't care much for the other Spike.

"Yes, Hero, I can see that," the pony Spike answered, though he didn't actually look at either of his guests.  "I can also see that you've abandoned your post.  That's against the rules."

Two Spikes are too many, Trixie decided.  It was getting tedious to have to keep clarifying which one she was thinking about.  No wonder they gave each other nicknames.

"Assistant!" Trixie said sharply.  "Trixie needs answers, and you are going to give them to her."

The Assistant gave no indication that he'd heard, walking slowly down the wall of shelves and scanning the titles of the books as he passed.  The Hero, fixing the Assistant with an icy glare, said, "He's looking for something.  You'll never get an answer out of him when he's like this."

"Well, how long will it take for him to find whatever it is he's looking for?"

The Hero opened his mouth to answer, but it was the Assistant who spoke first.  "Much longer, if you two keep distracting me!" he barked.  "If you two can't follow the rules, then kindly get out and leave me to my work."

Trixie obligingly kept quiet, but not because the Assistant had told her to.  Instead, she was busy turning over everything that she'd seen so far in her mind.  There's definitely something wrong here, she thought.  Both of these... people should be part of Spike's mind, but they're arguing and fighting with each other.  Is that why Spike...?

"Found it," the Assistant announced, interrupting Trixie's thoughts.  He'd pulled a thin, blue tome off the shelves and placed it on a lectern, and he was currently flipping through its few pages.  "Trixie, Trixie, hmm...  Ah, here it is.  Two encounters, both in Ponyville, both antagonistic towards Twilight, and the second involved, oh dear, 'grievous magical offenses against the subject and his friends, including one incidence of unwilling transmogrification.'  It would seem I don't remember you fondly, Trixie."

What was Trixie supposed to say to that?  It was true; she wasn't proud of the way she'd conducted herself on her visits to that sleepy little village, even if she hadn't been in control of herself the second time.  Spike's memories were accurate, and Trixie could hardly blame him for holding a grudge.  After all, Trixie herself had held...

Hang on, memories?  "Assistant," Trixie asked, "is this where Spike's memories are kept?"

The Assistant regarded her coolly.  "What if it is?"

"Yes, Trixie, it is," said the Hero.  He shot a smug look at the Assistant, who responded with a scowl.  "That's what you wanted to find, right?"

At least someone here can be helpful.  To the Hero, Trixie said, "Trixie needs to know the last thing Spike can remember before he fell asleep."

The Hero scratched his neck, not meeting Trixie's eyes.  "Well, like I said, that's not really my area."

"No, it isn't."  Placing the little book back on the shelf where he'd found it, the Assistant continued, "Your area is keeping ponies from seeing what we don't want them to see.  But, of course, even that was too much for you."

The Hero seemed to take offense to that statement.  "Twilight asked her to help us!  That should be good enough for you!"

"Um, Trixie can—"

"Stay out of this!" both Spikes yelled in unison, before going back to their bickering.

Well, if Spike won't help Trixie, she can find this memory herself.  The two Spikes, wrapped up in their shouting match as they were, didn't notice as Trixie slipped away and started checking the shelves.  All she had to do was find out the system of organization and follow it to the most recent memory.  Let's see, this section is 'Canterlot,' that one is 'Ponyville,' so there must be one for 'Manehattan.'  There's 'Crystal Empire,' 'Everfree,' but no 'Manehattan.'  Maybe there aren't enough memories for a whole section?  Okay, so what about... 'Other!'  And this is the shelf for 'Large Cities,' so which book is it?

The spines of the books held no clues.  In place of a title, each cover had a row of letters and numbers; whatever system this was, Trixie didn't recognize it.  There was nothing for it, then, but to pick one at random and start reading.

A thick tome with a yellow cover caught Trixie's eye, but the moment her hoof touched it, something in the room's atmosphere abruptly shifted.  It took her a moment, but Trixie soon realized what it was: the two Spikes had stopped yelling.  With a feeling of trepidation, Trixie turned around to find both Hero and Assistant staring at her with naked hostility in their eyes.

She swallowed nervously.  "Trixie was only looking," she offered weakly.

The Spikes were unimpressed.  The Hero raised his lance; in the grip of that wicked claw, the weapon looked more intimidating than ever.  He took a step towards the unicorn, then another, and in another stride he was already charging, intent on running her through.

He never reached her.  Focused as she was on the tip of the lance bearing down on her, Trixie didn't see the Assistant taking an enormous volume between his teeth.  With a swift, sharp twist of his neck, he sent the book flying through the air.

Trixie caught the motion in the corner of her eye, and she turned towards it just as the full force of the throw and the weight of the book together hit her square in the tip of her horn.

Everything went dark.
> The Beast
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Wyrd of a Dragon
Chapter Four






"Ow!"  Trixie rubbed gingerly at the sore spot on her forehead, just below her hairline.  She hoped it wouldn't bruise; her stagehands were excellent at what they did, but even they would have trouble hiding a goose-egg with makeup.  "That little..."

"Trixie!  Are you okay?"

That voice...  Was that...?  "Twilight?" Trixie asked.  She blinked a few times, trying to clear the stars and blurriness from her eyes, and found that, rather than Spike's mental library, she was back in the hospital ward.  "What am I doing back here?"

Twilight scrutinized the unicorn, checking to make sure she was unhurt.  When she was satisfied, she answered, "I can't say for certain, but based on the feedback when the spell ended and your reaction to waking up, I'd guess that Spike kicked you out."

"He can do that?"

"Apparently."  Twilight watched anxiously as Trixie rose to her hooves and shook the stiffness out of her legs.  "What happened?  Did you find out why Spike won't wake up?"

"Trixie was about to figure it out, before that infuriating colt threw a book at her head."  There were no mirrors in the room, for some reason, so Trixie couldn't assess the damage.  A hoof-examination found that her horn, though mercifully unhurt, was alarmingly warm to the touch.  Thank Celestia for small blessings.  At least it wasn't the spear.

Twilight, meanwhile, was frantically checking the array of machines hooked up to the sleeping dragon.  "This doesn't make any sense!" she said, grabbing a stack of hastily written notes from the table.  "There shouldn't have been enough change in his brain rhythms to snap the bridge like that."  Thrusting a printout with a bunch of squiggly, red lines in Trixie's face, she said, "Look!  His alpha waves are well within the safe region, and so are his thetas!"

"Is this supposed to mean something to Trixie?"  Surliness was, Trixie thought, an appropriate attitude to take after having been forcefully ejected from the thoughts of the ungrateful dragon she was trying to help.  

Twilight's eyes narrowed.  "Trixie," she said, her tone taking on an unsettling edge, "tell me exactly what happened."





Take two, Trixie thought as the dark spire of Spike's mind took shape before her again.  Twilight Sparkle hadn't been very sympathetic to Trixie's recounting of events, especially after Trixie had - justifiably, she thought - accused Spike of being stubborn and ungrateful.  For some reason, Twilight had taken offense, and only Trixie's quick offer to go back in and finish the job had managed to save her from a forcible demonstration of how much power an angry alicorn could bring to bear.

The exchange had taught Trixie a few things: first, that Equestria's youngest princess had quite a temper; and second, that, when one is a guest in another's mind, one should be careful not to anger one's host.  Apparently, Spike had interpreted Trixie's snooping as an attempt to steal his secrets and responded appropriately.

Nothing about the outside of the tower had changed since Trixie's last visit, save for the absence of the Hero.  Thankfully, the door was already open, and Trixie wasted no time in pushing her way inside.  The foyer, too, was empty but unaltered.

Is he still in the library? Trixie wondered.  Assistant was right; he's not much of a guard.  He even left the door open.  Something about that struck her as odd, but she was in too much of a hurry to dwell.  If the Hero wasn't in the library, then doubtless he would be on his way back to his post.  It would be best, then, not to let him find her here.  The last thing she needed was to be caught somewhere she wasn't supposed to be by a dragon with a lance and a grudge.

Spurred on by that thought, Trixie stepped through the room's far door and into the labyrinth of tunnels beyond.

Left, left, straight, straight, second on the right, left, right, then one, two, three torches and right...  The way the Hero had talked them up, these tunnels were supposed to be twisting and dangerous, with a safe path that was difficult to remember and impossible to get back to if strayed from.  Nonsense, Trixie scoffed.  The path they'd taken to get to the library had been barely two dozen turns; with no conversation or scenery to distract her, Trixie had occupied herself by committing it to memory.  By her reckoning, she was more than halfway through her trek when a sudden sound make her ears perk up.

It was faint, just at the edge of her hearing, but there could be no mistaking the sound of steel on stone.  Hero!  He was coming this way, getting louder and closer with every heavy step.  There was only one path here, with no branches or alcoves for Trixie to hide in; he'd see her for sure.

Come on, Trixie!  What kind of third-rate magician can't make herself disappear?  Of course, it was one thing to disappear on stage, where she had the advantage of trap-doors and smoke bombs; it was another thing entirely to vanish from a narrow corridor of solid stone, where the only decorations were a few green torches.  Her only recourse was to double back; if she could just reach the last split in the tunnel before the Hero rounded the bend, she could hide down a different path.

Her mind made up, Trixie walked slowly and deliberately back down the hallway.  She didn't run or sprint; the last thing she could afford was to make noise and give herself away.  Tucking herself as tightly as possible against the rough wall and hoping that the shadows would hide her, Trixie waited.

Three hundred pounding heartbeats later, the silhouetted form of a great, armored figure appeared in the mouth of Trixie's tunnel.  It flickered in the torchlight, but there could be no mistaking that lance; it was definitely the Hero.  For the first time in her life, Trixie cursed her luxurious mane and coat.  Silver and blue were a perfect complement to stage lighting and pyrotechnics, but against the dark gray backdrop they stood out like stars at night.  Her only hope was that the torch between her and the guard would ruin his night vision enough that she wouldn't be seen.

Trixie held her breath for what felt like hours as the Hero continued his easy march down the hall.  Evidently, she'd hidden well enough, as he didn't even glance in her direction.  Still, Trixie didn't feel safe enough to leave her hiding spot until the Hero's footsteps finally faded out.

A sigh of relief escaped Trixie's lips, and with the wash of relief came the realization that she had perhaps blown things slightly out of proportion.  Even if the Hero had caught her, she had nothing to fear but a slight setback and a headache.  At least nopony saw it, she reflected.  Now, it's a right here, then a... left?  Or was it two rights?

"Oh."  A lead weight dropped in Trixie's stomach.  That little moment of panic had thrown off her mental map; after backtracking and ducking down a different corridor, she no longer knew which way to go.  "Oh, no."





It was hopeless.  The dark tunnels all looked exactly the same, making every turn look both familiar and foreign.  Trixie had taken her best guess at the sequence of turns, but once she'd reached the end of her mental list with no library in sight, she'd tried to retrace her steps to find out where she'd gone wrong.  It was the worst possible thing she could have done; now, with no idea where she was and no idea where she'd been, Trixie couldn't even find her way back to the foyer to start again.

With nothing else to do, Trixie started taking turns at random, hoping to find something she recognized.  She supposed she could try to signal Twilight, but she considered that an absolute last resort.  There was no way that the Great and Powerful Trixie would admit to something as foalish as getting spooked and forgetting where to go.

Of course, the longer she wandered, the longer she would be stuck here.  Admitting defeat would let her start over from the beginning, where at least she knew the way.  Trixie was beginning to consider her chances of convincing the Hero to let her in, since there was little chance of the door being open the next time.  Dealing with the Assistant would be another issue entirely, assuming she made it-

The door was open?  The thought stuck in her mind once again.  Hero definitely closed it behind us the first time Trixie was here, so why would it be open this time?  Wandering on autopilot, Trixie tried to make sense of the change and why it had stood out to her so much.

Did somepony come in while the door was unguarded?  It could be whatever's keeping Spike asleep!  No, wait, that would have had to have happened before Trixie got here.  Besides, Twilight was with him in the hospital the whole time, and she would have noticed something like that.  Maybe the door isn't real, so it doesn't matter if it's open or closed?  If that's true, though, why would I notice?  This whole place runs on symbolism, and it it's important enough to stand out, then it has to mean something.  But nopony could have come in...

That line of thought came to an abrupt halt when Trixie finally found a door.  It wasn't the door to the library; that had been wooden and irregular, while this was made of thick, unpainted steel.  Even so, it was the only other landmark she'd seen, and it took her but a moment to shoulder it open and head inside.

On the other side of the door was darkness.  A pair of green braziers at the entrance illuminated a small oval of the floor and walls, but nothing could be seen beyond that.  Trixie's hoofsteps didn't echo, as they had in the hall; if this space were still inside, it had to be massive.

A gust of wind whipped Trixie's mane around her head and threatened to snuff out the twin flames behind her.  It carried the stench of brimstone, making her gag for a moment before the air stilled again.  Then came a thunderous rumbling, shaking the ground before it, too, came to a halt.

Another blast of putrid air blew forth; a pause and another quake followed.

It's snoring, Trixie realized.  As for what 'it' could be, the answer was obvious: a dragon.  The kind of beast that ponies told tales about, the ones with castles and princes and gallant knights; a creature twice as old as the cliffs it called home and half as forgiving.  It would raze an entire village with one idle breath.  The best a pony could do against something so vast was to pray not to be noticed, for to anger a dragon was to court obliteration.

Trixie had to leave.  She had to leave now.  The door was but a few steps behind her; she could get away before the dragon woke up.

She spun and ran for the door, intending to place a few inches of steel and several miles of tunnel between her and the dragon as quickly as possible, but in her haste she stumbled and slammed headlong into the metal.  Dazed and upside-down, Trixie could only lie there in quickly-growing dread as an almighty crash rang into the darkness.

Please don't wake up, please don't wake up, please don't wake up...

Mid-rumble, the snoring sputtered and stopped.  There was a sound like a rockslide in the distance, and suddenly the room wasn't dark anymore.

Directly in front of Trixie, two emerald eyes the size of wagon wheels opened, their slit pupils narrowing as they focused on the unicorn.  Below them glistened two rows of white blades, yellowing at the edges and wickedly sharp.  Tongues of flame danced between them.  In the light of the dragonfire, Trixie could see every scale on the beast's snout, along with the end of an impossibly-long neck that disappeared into the gloom and two claws resting beside its head.  Beneath it were gemstones in every color and shape imaginable; the flickering light bouncing off their facets gave the impression of a technicolor sea.  If what she could see were any indication, this dragon had a hoard that would rival the treasuries of any three countries Trixie could care to name.

"Hello," Trixie called.  There was no point trying to hide now, but maybe there was a chance of talking her way to safety.  Dragons in stories were notoriously vain; for once, flattery would be her salvation.

"You are a long way from home, little pony," the dragon said in a voice like a lead headstone, "and I care little for trespassers."

"Trixie is sorry for waking you up, mister...?"  She let the title hang, inviting the dragon to fill in the space.

"The others call me Beast," he obliged.  "Strange that you would not know.  Why else would you be here?"

The Beast was rapidly losing patience, judging by his fire.  Thinking quickly, Trixie said, "But of course Trixie knows of you, great Beast.  She simply did not recognize you from the others' description."  Trixie let her stagecraft take over, her voice taking on a tone of awe as she added, "They failed to capture your majesty."

Trixie's words were rewarded with a chuckle that could have split stone.  "A flatterer, then.  I suppose I should be grateful to be remembered at all."

"'At all'?" Trixie scoffed.  "How could anyone forget you?  The others still cower in fear at the thought of provoking your anger, great Beast."  It was a shot in the dark, but she was proud of her improvisation.  She just had to hope that the Beast fit the mold.

"And well they should," the Beast agreed.  "Those insufferable pests have no respect for power anymore.  Dragons should be feared."

"You are feared, great Beast," Trixie insisted.  "Why, even Hero is too terrified to walk your tunnels."

The Beast rolled his enormous eyes; it was an oddly familiar gesture on such an intimidating visage.  "Hero?  An upstart, and nothing more than that.  As if a dragon needed a lance."  One claw lifted to scratch the Beast's chin, sending cascades of precious stones down the pile.  "What I wouldn't give to put him in his place.  Him and that sniveling secretary."

"So what's stopping you?" Trixie asked.  "Go out and teach them to fear you again."  This was the riskiest gamble yet; the last thing she wanted to do was set this thing on a rampage around Spike's mind.  She just had to hope he took it the right way and gave her an out.  All she had to do was convince him that she could spread word of his majesty.

Instead of the regretful sigh that Trixie had expected, the Beast fixed her with a suspicious glare.  "Leave?" he bellowed.  "I should have known.  Silver tongues and black hearts are never far apart."

"W-what do you mean?"  Trixie's composure was failing fast.  The Beast had seen something in her words, but without knowing what, Trixie couldn't steer things her way again.

The Beast barely seemed to hear her.  "It's the oldest trick in the book.  Flatter the dragon into flying away and leaving his hoard behind so you can steal it.  I should have known."  Those brilliant eyes pressed down on Trixie through the force of their glare alone.  "Such an amateurish attempt, too.  Everyone knows the way to a dragon's heart is through his hoard."

"I don't want your hoard!" Trixie protested.  "I don't even know what's in it!"

"Hah!"  It was a sound more snarl than laugh.  "Then you are a bigger fool than I took you for.  What else would a dragon hoard but the most precious treasure that exists?"  If that was meant to tell Trixie anything, it was lost on her.  The Beast seemed to sense it; with an earth-shaking roar, he yelled, "Stories!"

Still in the iron grip of panic, Trixie did the only thing that she could: she kept talking.  "You mean memories?  Trixie thought the Assistant-"

"The Assistant?  His shelves are full of nothing but facts and endless, worthless rules!  Stories are not lists to be bottled up and broken down, and nothing worth hoarding can be found in a book."  The Beast, with impossible grace, plucked a ruby the size of a cantaloupe from the pile beneath him.  "Memories without feeling are just events.  This is a story.  And here is where yours ends."

Trixie didn't hear his words.  The Hero, the Assistant, and the Beast...  They all do different things, but they're all part of Spike.  It's no wonder they're arguing all the time; disagreeing is what they're for.  The question is, what holds them together?  Somewhere in the answer to that question was the way to wake Spike up; Trixie could feel it.  

It was with something close to apathy that Trixie finally looked up and saw the swirling green flames rush down to engulf her.  As the vortex of impossible heat closed in and her vision went dark, all she could think of was how the pieces had finally come together.
> The Dragon
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Wyrd of a Dragon
Chapter Five






Trixie's headache had returned with a vengeance.  Being forcibly thrown out of a semi-telepathic bridge had a tendency to do that, apparently.  As the little hospital room faded into view, Trixie noted with some surprise that the moon had risen.  The small slice of skyline visible in the window was no less dark for it; Manehattan was known as 'the city that never sleeps', after all, and for good reason.  

Twilight was on her in a flash, checking Trixie's eyes and horn.  When she was once again satisfied that Trixie had suffered no harm, she unleashed a barrage of questions: what happened this time, did Trixie figure out what to do, why had it taken so long, was she hungry?

The last question was the only one Trixie had any interest in at the moment.  Doing some quick calculations, Trixie realized that her last meal had been more than eight hours ago; she was famished.  At some point during Trixie's wandering, a nurse or other hospital orderly had brought a tray of food to the room, and princess and performer took a break for a late dinner.  

While it was perfectly ordinary hospital food, and therefore only a meal in that it was technically edible, Trixie was too hungry and exhausted to care.  

"So," Twilight said around a mouthful of leaves claiming to be a salad, "what happened this time?"

It's amazing, Trixie thought, transfixed by the princess.  Did nopony teach her to chew?  I've seen tornados less messy.  For her part, despite the protestations of her stomach, Trixie was taking her meal steadily.  She made sure to swallow before answering, "Trixie ran into a dragon."

Twilight arched an eyebrow.

"Not like that.  A real dragon.  He mistook Trixie for a common thief and... took offense.  Before you say anything, Trixie never so much as touched his hoard."

"Trixie..." Twilight said warningly.  She'd moved on to the 'dessert', which did not resemble a slice of cake so much as a slightly damp kitchen sponge.  How in Equestria does she eat so fast?  Does she not need to breathe?

Deciding that wondering about whether or not pegasi–and therefore alicorns–had air sacs was not a productive use of her time, Trixie said, "Anyway, that's not important.  Trixie might know how to wake Spike up."

Only her quick reflexes saved Trixie from a spray of crumbs.  "What?!  Why didn't you say so?  You figured out why he's unconscious?"

"Not exactly," Trixie said.  "But there's something... off in his head.  I don't know how to explain it, but if I go back in, I think I can fix it."

Twilight considered this for a moment.  Taking the opportunity to finish her own meal, Trixie tried to read the princess's thoughts.  The pony she'd been dealing with all afternoon was a far cry from the unsure little unicorn she'd first met all those months ago.  Her first impression had been of an indoorsy, bookish young mare who cut her mane with a straightedge; the sheer power in that little frame had blown Trixie away completely.  The Princess of Friendship hadn't found a new stylist yet, but in every other respect she was barely recognizable.  If the alicorn in this little room picked up a rampaging Ursa Minor by main force and carried it back to its lair, Trixie would be more surprised that she'd allowed it to run free in the first place.

Trixie could scarcely imagine the kind of turmoil Twilight had to be going through.  By all appearances, she hadn't left this room once since Spike had been brought in.  Add in a few hours of constant mental magic, and she had to have been almost dead on her hooves.  And yet, Twilight let almost nothing show.  She had a job to do, and nothing would be gained by losing her composure.

Really, the only thing missing was a basic understanding of table manners.

"Okay," Twilight said.  "If you really think you can do this, I'll send you back in."

"I'm ready."

The pair rose to their hooves and resumed their positions beside the bed.  "I don't know if Spike will be able to give you another try," Twilight said softly.  "He's tough, but he's still young, especially for a dragon.  This is probably the last chance we have."

Trixie took one last look at the recumbent dragon.  "I won't need another."





It was amazing how quickly repeated exposure could turn even the most fantastic and alien experiences into routine.  The first time Trixie had seen it, Spike's mind-tower had seemed impossible and imposing; by the third visit, it just looked like a giant slab of rock.  The more interesting feature was the reappearance of the Hero in front of the now-closed front door.

He spotted Trixie immediately, and he wrested the tip of his lance from the ground.  Though he held it in a threatening grip with the business end pointed square at the unicorn, he made no move to charge her.  His intention, it seemed, was to scare her away.

Trixie took it as an encouraging sign.  She hadn't been run through yet; there was a chance this could work.  "Hello!" she hailed, keeping her distance.

"Trixie," the Hero spat.  "You won't get by me a third time.  I don't know or care if you think you're helping, but Spike is in enough trouble without you poking your muzzle where it doesn't belong."

Technically, Trixie only got by you once; the first time, you let her in yourself, she thought, though saying so aloud would only earn her another headache.  Instead, she said, "Trixie is not here to cause trouble.  In fact, she has no intention of entering that door at all."

The Hero snorted.  "Right.  You expect me to believe you came here to, what, enjoy the scenery?  Maybe do a bit of grazing?"  He scuffed a booted foot at the dry dirt that covered the ground in all directions, giving Trixie a flat look.

It was a wind-up, and Trixie didn't rise to it.  "Trixie expects you to bring the Assistant and the Beast out here in the next thirty minutes.  You don't have to believe anything."

A moment of utter bemusement gave way to several more of roaring laughter.  Trixie waited patiently for the Hero to regain his composure and wipe the tears from his eyes.  "Wow," he said breathlessly, "forget stage magic; you should do stand-up.  You want me to abandon my post, again, and convince not just the Assistant, but also the Beast to walk all the way up here just because you asked for it?  Trixie, are you completely insane?"  

Trixie carefully kept all emotion from her face.  Any other day, and Trixie would challenge you to a duel for an insult like that!  Wait, no, no more duels.  Well, she would... forbid you from attending her shows!  Consider yourself lucky, Spike.  

The Hero seemed to realize that Trixie was not, in fact, joking.  "Yep, completely insane," he muttered.  "Okay, Trixie.  Even supposing that you really do think the Assistant and the Beast need to be here for some reason, and that somehow they can help you help Spike, I don't trust you enough to leave you out here alone.  And I definitely can't let you in again."

This is it, then.  Time to see if I'm right.  "You can trust Trixie," Trixie said.  It was less a promise than a statement of fact.  "That's what you do, isn't it?  It took Trixie a while to figure it out, but you're not really the Hero.  This whole place is Spike's mind, and ponies—er, dragons—don't have different personalities living inside them."  She noted with satisfaction that the Hero had put up a stoic facade, trying not to show what he was thinking.  He wasn't very good at it.  "That means you have to represent something else.  Isn't that right, Conviction?"

The Hero—or, if Trixie had guessed right, Conviction—lowered his lance.  "That was either a lot of creative thinking or an absolutely inspired guess," he said.  Then he smiled.  It wasn't like the ones he'd shown earlier; instead of bravado and fierce teeth, this smile showed admiration and a little bit of embarrassment.  It was the kind of smile that Trixie saw on the little colts and fillies who had just seen her show for the first time and wanted to meet the mare who'd shown them something new and magical.  That kind of smile was why she wore her hat and cape, why she went on stage in the first place.  It had taken losing to Twilight Sparkle twice for her to remember that.

"I'm right, then?" Trixie asked.  The figure now positively identified as Conviction nodded.  "Then the other two must be Reason and Instinct."

"Right again."

Thank Celestia.  Trixie didn't know what she would have done if her hypothesis hadn't panned out.  Conviction hadn't been far off the mark to call it a lucky guess.  Time to make a few more.  "So, can Trixie count on your help?"

"Well, it's not that simple.  It's like you said; trusting is what I do.  The others will take some convincing," Conviction said.  He seemed almost expectant, as though waiting to hear what Trixie would say next.

"Trixie has an idea about that.  Is it safe to say that Spike trusts Twilight's judgement when it comes to magic?"

"Well, yeah," Conviction said, as though the answer were so obvious that he couldn't believe it had been asked.

It was exactly what Trixie had been hoping to hear.  "In that case, tell Reason that Twilight Sparkle would not have sent Trixie here if she were not convinced that doing so was the best way to wake Spike up.  Because she did not give any specific instructions to Trixie, she must think that Trixie can work best on her own initiative, and Trixie's initiative requires him to come outside the tower.  Make sure he understands that this spell is incredibly difficult and that Twilight has been holding it up for more than two hours.  He should be able to figure out the rest."

Conviction nodded in understanding, if not necessarily confidence.  Just to be sure, Trixie made him repeat back to her what he was to say.  When she was convinced that Reason would get the message, she moved on to Instinct.  This would be trickier; Trixie had no idea how to convince a territorial dragon to abandon his hoard, even if only for a moment.  What do dragons value more than gems?

The answer came in a flash; he'd told her himself, after all.  "Tell Instinct that this is a story he won't want to miss," she said simply.

"That's it?"

"That's it."  There was so much that could go wrong.  Trixie's plan would only work if Conviction could get both Reason and Instinct to follow him to the surface.  More than that, all three had to be willing to listen to her, and she barely knew what to say.  She was still missing the final piece, but it wouldn't matter if the rest fell apart.

Trixie put those thoughts and doubts out of her mind.  On stage, worrying about making a mistake was the surest way to make one; the best thing was to deal with problems as they happened.  Above all, she had to believe it would work.  As long as Trixie gave it her all, even if a trick fizzled, the audience would at least see her best.  The show would go on.

Conviction promised to give Trixie's messages to his compatriots, then disappeared into the bleak tower.  He pushed the heavy door closed behind him, but, as Trixie had suspected, it swung open a few moments later.  This place is still infuriatingly metaphorical, she complained inwardly.  All it had to say was 'open-minded'.  Trixie wasted a lot of time on this door.  Still, even though it wasn't directly related to Spike's current condition, the open door had given Trixie the hint she'd needed to figure out her next move.

Instead of following the armored figure back into the tunnels, Trixie turned around and headed in the opposite direction, further into the featureless plain surrounding it.  Out here, in whatever part of Spike's subconscious this was supposed to represent, was the last piece of the puzzle.  Conviction, Reason, and Instinct were just ways of thinking; by themselves, they would stay trapped in the same circles forever.

They were the mind.  They needed a body.

If Trixie couldn't find it, Spike would never wake up.  With only the tower and her own gut to serve as her guides, Trixie started walking.





All the energy in Twilight's spell had gone into constructing the tower of his thoughts and memories, it seemed; the plain of flat, featureless dirt was perfectly uniform and empty in all directions.  It made judging distance and direction all but impossible, since Trixie's hoofsteps left no prints and there wasn't even a sun or moon to give a heading.  Trixie made absolutely sure to keep the tower that was her only landmark in sight at all times.

On the upside, the utterly barren landscape did make finding her target much easier.  Trixie only had to circle the tower once to spot the one patch of dirt that looked different, and she made a beeline for it.

Drawing closer, Trixie saw the patch of raised earth for what it actually was: Spike.  He looked much closer to his actual appearance than did any of the other mental representations she'd seen so far.  He might have been a bit leaner, a bit less stocky, but otherwise he was the same as the dragon back in the ward, right down to the way he was lying motionless in the dirt.  

"Spike?" Trixie called when she was just a few strides away.  

Slowly, Spike tilted his head to look at the source of the noise.  If he was surprised to see Trixie, he didn't show it; nor, in fact, did he show any reaction at all.  A moment later, as though the simple act of raising his head had overcome him, he dropped it back to the ground.

It was a pathetic sight, if not an unexpected one.  "Spike," Trixie said, firmly, "get up."

"Don't wanna," he answered.  

Ugh, it's like getting a colt out of bed in the morning.  "You can't lie there in the dirt all day."  

Spike shrugged.  "Why not?"

Ponies are worried about you, Trixie could have told him.  It was true, and it might at least have made Spike feel guilty, but it wasn't what Trixie said.  No, she'd been through far too much nonsense today to deal with a moody psychic construct.  What came out of Trixie's mouth was, "Because if you don't get up right now, I will grab you by the tail and drag you to the tower.  How do you think that's going to look, hmm?"

The little dragon sat up laboriously, frowning at Trixie.  "That's the best you can do?  Seriously?"

"Time to go," she announced, stepping forward to take Spike's pointed, purple tail between her teeth.

Before she could get there, Spike hopped to his feet.  "I'm up!  I'm up," he said hurriedly.  "To the tower, you said?  Lead the way!"

Trixie pushed Spike to the front, letting him take the lead.  That way, he wouldn't be able to slip away and go back to his spot in the dirt.  The tower wasn't far, and Trixie hoped Conviction and the others would be there when they returned.

"So, uh," Spike ventured, unable to keep a hint of amusement from his voice, "my tail?"

"Trixie has had a long day."





Conviction, Reason, and Instinct were waiting for Trixie and Spike when they reached the front of the tower.  Conviction and Reason were arguing about something, judging by their bearing, while Instinct ignored them both.  The enormous dragon had evidently been unable to fit his whole body through the door; he'd settled for having just his head and neck protrude from the tower.  This had the side-effect of completely blocking the only entrance, meaning Reason and Conviction would be stuck until he deigned to return to his lair.

Whatever their discussion had been about, the sight of Spike rounding the corner, Trixie at his heels, brought it to a halt.  

"Trixie!  There you are!" Conviction greeted.  "These two thought you'd stood us up."

"It was the most likely conclusion, given your past behavior," Reason helpfully added.  The pony in Spike's colors somehow made even the featureless dirt look exciting by comparison.  Unfinished was the word that came to mind, as though somepony had made the basic shape of a pony and left all the details for later.

In stark contrast, Instinct looked every inch the dragon he was.  Each scale and wicked fang stood in sharp relief.  Though he glanced in her direction when she arrived, Instinct showed no other reaction to Trixie's presence.

"Trixie was looking for him," she explained, gesturing to Spike.  He gave a sheepish wave.  

"Who's this?" Conviction asked, apparently noticing Spike for the first time.  Even then, he seemed to be having trouble focusing; his gaze kept sliding off the little dragon.  

He's trying to connect, Trixie thought excitedly, but it isn't enough.  Just a little bit more.  "Reason," she said, addressing the pony from Spike's mental library, "any guesses?"

"He looks like..." Reason started, but it was obvious that he wasn't going to say any more.

Instinct snorted impatiently.  "You promised a story, and all you have are riddles.  Just tell us who he is."

Trixie shook her head.  "Sorry, Instinct.  You have to figure it out yourselves.  All three of you."

Surprisingly, the two dragons and one pony didn't even argue.  Instead, they huddled up around Instinct's head and whispered furiously to each other, pausing only for an occasional glance at Spike.

They're curious.  That's a good sign.  

"Hey, Trixie?" came the voice of the fourth Spike at her side.

The uncertainty in his words caught Trixie's notice.  "What is it?"

"I know you said they had to figure out who I am for themselves," he said, "but... who am I?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"It... it is!" he yelled.  Evidently, it had come out a bit louder than he'd expected, as he immediately clamped a claw over his mouth.  It was too late; his outburst had caught the attention of the other images of Spike, who stopped their debate to focus on him.  At Trixie's encouraging nod, he said, "I'm Spike!"
> The End
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Wyrd of a Dragon
Chapter Six






"Miss Trixie!"

Trixie blinked at the sound of her own name.  It took a moment for her to realize that it meant somepony was calling for her.  "Yes?" she answered automatically.

"Can you sign my poster?  Please?"

Sign?  Poster?  "Oh!"  That was right; she was in the lobby of her theater, signing autographs for the fans.  The voice that had snapped her out of her daydreams belonged to one of them.  Specifically, a little unicorn filly with a messy, yellow mane and a pink coat.  She was too young to have earned her cutie mark yet, which wasn't much of a surprise.  So many unicorns, once they were old enough to have learned a few spells, saw no reason to pay to see what they could do themselves for free.  Any unicorn can make rope tie itself in knots, they'd say.

Maybe they have a point, Trixie thought.  With a flick of her horn, she scrawled her name on the poster thrust in her face, then called for the next pony in line.  Forget unicorns; Trixie can think of a few earth ponies who could have put on a better show than that.  

As a rule, Trixie wasn't one to dwell on a bad performance.  Fix what went wrong and move on; that was her creed.  This show, though, had been harder than usual to let go, particularly because nothing had gone wrong.  Trixie had practiced her repertoire so many times that she could do it in her sleep, and none of her props had broken down or caught fire this time.

Even so, as Trixie stamped out half a dozen more autographs on whatever surfaces were placed on the table before her, she couldn't help but feel that she'd put on a bad show.  Her heart hadn't been in it, she realized.  She'd been distracted and unfocused; though her performance had been technically flawless, it hadn't been Trixie.

It's Twilight's fault, she thought, but it sounded hollow even to her.  Twilight may have been the one to ask for her help, but it had been Trixie who had decided to give it.  After Trixie had brought Spike's mental representation of his body back together with his mind, the dragon had woken up.  There had been tearful hugs and heartfelt thanks, or at least there would have been, had Trixie not run out of the hospital and back to her apartment as soon as possible.

I didn't even say goodbye.  Trixie had done her job; more than that, she'd woken Spike up.  All she'd had to do was find out why he was unconscious, and in truth she hadn't actually done that.  Perhaps it was the lack of closure that kept her from moving on, or maybe it was how she'd run off without asking for a reward.  Something in her mind kept screaming that she wasn't finished with Spike and Princess Twilight just yet.

A commotion at the back of the line brought the magician back to the present.  It's just somepony shoving, she guessed.  It wasn't too common, but her older fans sometimes got the idea that they were too important to wait like everypony else.  The building's security guards would put a stop to it soon.

Sure enough, a burly stallion in a vest trotted over to the disturbance.  "What seems to be the problem?" he asked, his booming baritone carrying easily across the lobby.

"He's trying to jump ahead!" answered a shrill, female voice.  From her seat, Trixie couldn't see the speaker, but she didn't bother trying to get a better look.  That is, until she heard the accused.

"No, I'm not!"  That voice!  It sounded eerily familiar and yet unlike any pony she knew.  "I don't even want an autograph!  I just came to give Trixie a message."

"Wait in line like the rest of us," came the shrill voice again.  

"Listen, bub," the guard growled, "The Great and Powerful Trixie's time is very valuable.  Either wait in line like everypony else or speak to her manager."

"Fine," the troublemaker muttered, clearly unhappy but unwilling to make an issue of it.

I know that grumble.  "Spike?" she yelled, standing on her hind legs to see over the crowd.  Sure enough, between the guard and a diminutive pegasus, she spotted a row of green spines that jumped at her voice.

"Trixie!" Spike yelled back.  "Tell this guy to back off, will ya?"

He doesn't seem any worse for wear, Trixie noted dryly.  "You heard him, Rope.  Let him through."

Spike at least had the decency to look slightly embarrassed as he walked past the ponies waiting dutifully in line.  When he got to the table, he stopped and twiddled his claws.  "Hey, Trixie," he greeted, not meeting her eyes.

"Hello, Spike.  How are you feeling?"  She had to reach for the words, but it was better than sitting in awkward silence until Spike found his voice again.

"Better.  That's kinda why I'm here, actually."

"I figured."

"Yeah."  For a moment, neither of them said anything.  Suddenly, Spike seemed to notice the crowd of increasingly-less-patient ponies beside him, and he said, "When you're done here, can you come outside?  Please?  Me and Twilight wanted to talk to you."

Don't let her hear you say 'me and Twilight', Trixie thought.  If anypony were the type to fuss over proper grammar, it would be Princess Twilight.  "Sure," she agreed.  Before Spike could make his exit, she called to the guard, "Hey, Rope, can we wrap this up?"

Rope wasn't surprised, or, if he was, he didn't show it; he was a professional, after all.  "All right, everypony, show's over.  No more autographs today."  Over a chorus of complaints and dark mutterings, he kept his voice level and commanding.  "Please proceed to the exit in an orderly fashion."

As the crowd of disappointed fans herded out onto the street, Trixie felt a pang of guilt.  These ponies had come to see her, after all; it wasn't fair to deny them that for her own personal reasons.  She couldn't do much about it now except hope for them to forgive her.  Once the lobby had all but emptied out, Spike and Trixie headed for the exit.





Twilight had chosen to meet Trixie in Manehattan's Central Park.  She was waiting on a bench when Trixie and Spike found her; as soon as she spotted them, she stood up.

"Hello, Trixie," she called, giving the showmare a little wave.

"Hello."

"I, uh, brought her," Spike said.  He walked quickly over to Twilight's side, taking comfort in her presence.  It was not intended to be a slight, but Trixie noticed the way the tension left his shoulders as he put some distance between the two of them.

"Thank you, Spike."  Turning to Trixie, Twilight said, "You didn't give us a chance to thank you yesterday."

"Trixie didn't do it for thanks."  If Spike had been uncomfortable standing next to Trixie, it was nothing to how Trixie felt now.  She wanted nothing more than to forget this whole thing and go back to her show.

The princess matched Trixie's scowl with a smile of her own.  "Well, thank you anyway."

"Yeah, thanks, Trixie," Spike added.  "Twilight told me what happened."

"You don't remember any of it?"

He rubbed the back of his neck.  "Not really.  The last thing I remember was getting a carrot dog outside the hotel.  Then I woke up in the hospital."

Trixie blinked.  'The key to waking him up is somewhere in his memories,' isn't that what Twilight said?  If he only remembers some fast food, maybe it's a good thing I didn't find it.

"It was a fungus," Twilight said, in answer to a question Trixie hadn't asked.  "It grows in some types of grains.  That bun he ate was contaminated."

"Oh."  Somehow, Trixie had expected it to be more dramatic.  Maybe it was just the amount of trouble she'd had to go through because of it, but a bit of food poisoning seemed like a let-down.  "It put him to sleep?"

"It usually just makes ponies go numb for a few days.  Spike's young enough that it knocked him out instead."  She dropped her gaze to the ground, shuffling her wings nervously.  "He would have woken up on his own by this afternoon."

As if expecting this bit of news to make Trixie explode, Spike rushed to add that they were both grateful all the same and that they were sorry for taking up her time for nothing.  Instead of screaming or running away or any of the other things Trixie really felt like doing, she just sat on her rump and laughed at the absurdity of it all.  What else could she do?

"If there's anything I can do to repay you, just name it," Twilight said.  The laughter seemed to have taken her by surprise.

"Do you know why I agreed to help you, Princess Twilight?" Trixie asked, once she had her breathing under control again.  She didn't wait for an answer.  "I thought it might make up for all the trouble I gave you in Ponyville.  What kind of a reason is that?"

"But I never—"

"I know.  That doesn't mean I didn't want to make it right.  And then it turns out Trixie was doing all that for nothing."

Twilight and Spike looked at the ground, ashamed.  "If it means anything, I think you're a much better pony than you were in Ponyville," Spike said quietly.  

Trixie smiled.  "You're right.  And Trixie knows how you two can repay her."

"Oh?"  The old Trixie, the one who had traveled across Equestria to humiliate ponies and talk herself up, would have exploited a favor like this for her own gain.  They all knew it.  From the way Twilight looked up and smiled, it was obvious she agreed with Spike's assessment, even if she wouldn't say so.  She didn't seem worried about what she might be asked to do; if anything, she looked proud.  

There was only one thing Trixie could demand that would make things right.  It really was obvious.  "The Great and Powerful Trixie has one more show tonight.  The two of you will attend and witness feats of magic beyond imagining!"

Trixie's words were punctuated with an explosion of confetti and a fanfare.  As she dropped back to all fours, the most magnificent magician in Manehattan coughed and added, in a much quieter voice, "And, um, can I get your autograph?"