A pianist from Earth is summoned to Equestria - to become a piano-playing playing slave.
A pianist from Earth is home on a lonely Saturday, getting ready to enjoy his weekend, when he is suddenly summoned to Equestria - only to find himself being held captive by The Great and Powerful Trixie, who plans to use him as a piano-playing slave in her show.
If you came here looking for the sequel, 'The Piano Man: Act II', it can be found here.
The piano is a beautiful instrument; majestic, pure, giving its user the ability to play soft melodies and slam out heavy chords at a moment’s notice. It just isn’t like other instruments. For example, the guitar is guttural, with all but its top strings giving off music that sounds more like a growl than a tone. The violin is always nice, but nowhere near as majestic as those wonderful ivories.
I suppose there’s also something magical about watching your fingers dance across the keys, or watching the hammers hitting the strings. Back when I was in high school, the other students always loved to open up the piano lid and watch the hammers while I played. I never really minded. The hammers always made it look more complex than it actually was.
This has always been my stance on the piano. It’s why I chose to learn it. Humans have opposable thumbs and fingers, with the ability to manipulate tools, so why not use them to their full extent? It seems like a big "up yours" to all of existence if we don’t.
I love the piano. I love my piano. I try to play it at least once a day, making sure to stay in practice. Being a good pianist is better than any party trick—not that I would really know, by the way. I’ve only ever been to one party with a piano, and by the time I arrived, the keys had been painted a sickly green, and the “painter” had somehow managed to pass out on the lid. Unpleasant, to say the least.
And yet, despite how much I babble on about the majesty of the piano, I myself own nothing more than an elderly spinet. It’s shorter than the basic upright, and has what I would call a richer sound. That being said, the one I own looks unbelievably ugly, and the lower-middle keys sound ever so slightly guttural—reminiscent of a Guitar.
I would love to own a grand piano. A full fledged one, and yet… I would also be sad to part with the one I own now. I’ve had it for so long that parting with it would be similar to ripping off one of my toes, in a way. Then I’d probably forget all about it, because I’d have a grand piano.
This is how I felt about the piano before it all started. All of these extremely biased opinions that surfaced whenever anyone spoke of another instrument have been with me for years, but now they've changed. I used to love the piano so very much. Now an old upright sits in the corner of my cage, piles of basic sheet music I've never even glanced at splayed across the top, taunting me with yellow, chipped keys and the ugly stain on its side.
I’ve been forced to play this damn thing—or one extremely like it—for hours at a time, every day for the past week... or has it been longer? I don’t know how many shows I perform a day, and time seems to pass so differently when there’s no light to judge it by. Actually, how long have I been here? Honestly, it could even be close to a month. I seriously have no clue.
I’m the Piano Man. That’s what she named me. The Piano Man. I don’t know how she came up with it, but that name is all I have—well, that... and my skill. Playing the piano is something that none of them could ever hope to do. I go up there, and I play. The same thing every time: I just go out there and pour my pent up sorrow and rage into the keys while they stand and watch.
They’re all bastards. How can they do this to me? I was normal! I went to school, I graduated, I work six days a week. What did I do to deserve this?
Okay, okay. Let's move it back a little. Jumping into a tale like this from the middle isn't going to make much sense, so—as any good story should—I will do what's best, and start at the beginning. The beginning of a story is always fun, because it’s at that point where you know the least about the story itself. As far as the reader is concerned, anything can and will happen.
So that’s where I’ll start. The beginning.
***
The previous week...
Trixie looked out at her audience, disheartened by all the uninterested faces. Some of the ponies at the back of the crowd had already turned away. A disaster of an opening monologue, if she had ever seen one.
“And now, The Great and Powerful Trixie will astound you all with her unrivalled mastery of the magical arts!”
There was no response—well, there was, but it was in the form of an unusually loud yawn. The yawn itself got more of a reaction than her statement, as several audience members nodded in agreement.
“Uh… well then…” Trixie cleared her throat, before throwing herself headfirst into her routine. “Watch in awe, humble ponies, as The Great and Powerful Trixie dazzles you ALL!”
She reared up on her hind legs as the standard fireworks display went off, before dropping back to her hooves, horn glowing. “Now, for my first amazing feat, The Great and Powerf—oh, come on!”
The crowd had dissipated, with only seven ponies still watching—all of which awkwardly turned away, once they realised that they were the only remaining spectators.
Trixie watched as her audience dissolved, her mouth open in disbelief. She couldn’t stand it. Ever since that scandal in Ponyville, her audiences had started spurning her. It had gotten even worse when the Foal Free Press—during it’s impossible spike in popularity—had published many of her secrets.
After that, members in her audiences had actually shouted out the secrets behind her tricks, but never had they simply walked away before her first trick.
And now, here she was; living day-by-day, roaming in her little carriage, and trying to find an audience. Trixie could remember being forced to dig through garbage for food at least twice.
With a little sigh, Trixie stepped down onto the earth, looking sadly at her carriage as the stage was encased in her magical aura and folded back up.
“I need something new,” she muttered. “Something these fools want to see… something they would regret not seeing for the rest of their lives.”
She looked around, wondering what on earth she could use. ‘What would these idiots be entertained by?’
Unsurprisingly, there was nothing interesting in sight. The idea that she could find something amazingly stupendous just by looking around was absurd, of course.
Dejectedly, Trixie plodded over to an open-front café that took up one of the sides of the small plaza, sitting down at an outside table and removing her hat.
“Oh, Celestia,” she mumbled. “Who would have thought my career would end up like this?”
A waiter trotted over, his face a stoic and aloof mask that did not belong on one employed at a simple café. “Would you like a drink?”
“Iced coffee,” Trixie mumbled, digging into her precious supply of coins to produce the three bits for her drink.
The waiter nodded, taking the coins and walking away, while Trixie put her head in her hooves. What was she doing? Now she barely had more than twenty bits to her name. This was no time to be wasting money on luxuries like iced coffee.
She continued mentally berating herself, and was just starting to wonder if she still had time to get her money back, when the waiter returned with the beverage.
Slouching in her seat, Trixie numbly thanked the waiter. She sat still, staring at the drink which had just chipped away a sizeable portion of her remaining funds.
“Oh Celestia, why?” she grumbled to herself, finally deeming to take a sip from the cup—almost feeling angry that the drink had the nerve to be delicious.
Trixie continued to grudgingly sip at the drink, glaring across the square at her wagon, almost as if her home was directly responsible for everything that happened. Her entire career—and a reputation she’d spent years cultivating—was ruined. She’d have to return home as a failure. How would she face her father? How would she be able to look him in the eye and tell him that she was broke?
There came a noise from inside the café, the sound of a hoof thumping two keys on a piano. Trixie took no notice, still wallowing in her depression.
The second time caught her attention. It was hard not to notice the sound of a hoof being pulled down the length of the keyboard.
Pouncing on the chance to be irritated at something that wasn’t related to her, Trixie stood up, absently grabbing the iced coffee and walking into the interior of the café.
Standing in the corner of the main room was a dusty brown piano, along with a cello and a lyre. On its stool sat a young foal, who was chortling his little head off as he mindlessly thumped the keys.
Despite her irritation and frustration, Trixie couldn’t help but smile at the foal. Even in her slump she could appreciate the cheerful innocence and ignorance of youth. Any older pony would understand why ponies couldn’t really play the piano. The expensive instrument was rare enough, as they could only be played by griffons—and badly, at that—or exceptionally skilled unicorns.
Trixie knew that she would never be able to play a piano, as she was unable to multitask with her magic, but maybe she could train a monkey to play—no… monkeys weren’t intelligent enough to learn all of the intricacies… but what if there was an animal that could learn such complex patterns?
‘Wait… could it really be that simple?’ Trixie turned away from the foal fiddling with the piano, draining her iced coffee in two large gulps.
She gave a hopeful sigh as she left the café, heading up the street towards the Trottingham Library. Trixie had some reading to do. It was a long shot, and involved something Trixie barely knew anything about, but if she could pull it off… she could be rich.
Trixie left her wagon where it was. It wasn’t like there was anything of value within it anyway. The wagon itself was in desperate need of painting.
She hummed a grim tune as she trotted the short distance from the street to the library. There wasn’t much for her to be cheery about any more.
The Trottingham Library was a very large, distinctive building, and quite a bit older than the more modern brick buildings surrounding it. The library’s shell was built from large blocks of light grey stone, with the doorway flanked by large pillars of the same material. It was imposing, to say the least.
The archives in the basement were even more interesting. Filled to the roof with old books that nopony checked out anymore, they were the perfect place for Trixie to research her scheme.
It was actually very simple. After finding the necessary spell, she would summon the perfect creature for playing the piano. It wasn't that difficult in theory, but actually locating this “perfect creature” would be a difficult task. She could think of a few candidates—all of them obscure myths—but one in particular stood out above the rest.
All she needed to do was find out if such a thing even existed.
Her entire plan—which she’d had for a grand total of ten minutes—was in the balance. If the creature wasn’t real, then she would go bankrupt. But if it was… she would be rich.
Walking over to an index, Trixie started flipping through the pages. It was going to be a long, gruelling day of research.
***
Trixie gazed coldly at the collection of books in front of her.
An illustrated picture of a human was set before her. It was shown to be roughly six feet tall. Judging by its two extended, fleshy hooves, the human appeared to walk on only two legs, while at the end of its upper-limbs were claw-like appendages. Both the hooves and the claws were tipped with five rounded digits, but those on the upper limbs were much longer and appeared to be ideal for the manipulation of objects—and playing a piano.
It had no muzzle, although there was a distinct, rigid point protruding from its face just above the mouth. Its neck was far shorter than that of a pony, and at the base was a pair of broad shoulders that continued directly into the upper limbs.
The only other defining features of the human was its angular, apparently oval-shaped eyes and the lack of hair in any place except for the top of its head. The anatomy of the creature’s body was a mystery, however, as it was garbed in what looked to be a large woolen sheet or blanket that wrapped around the torso and folded over the left shoulder. The only things visible past the strange-looking clothing were its even stranger-looking hooves, which the expansive folds of wool failed to cover.
Humans seemed much the way Trixie remembered from her childhood. Back when she’d had a real penchant for books, she could spend an entire day browsing the Manehattan libraries. During that time, Trixie had found many interesting stories and pieces of mythology. Some works had been that of fiction, and others had claimed to be based on actual history.
Humans had been reasonably interesting—if a little far fetched—and as a filly, Trixie had eventually dismissed them as too unbelievable. However, as an adult, Trixie was able to see their proportions in a more logical light. They were rather tall, walked on two legs, and wore their coats much thinner than ponies.
But what was important was their hands.
Humans had five digits on each hand, giving them the ability to play instruments and manipulate objects in a way that ponies could never hope for, which was exactly why Trixie needed one. If she could create a show out of a human playing an instrument (specifically the piano), then all of the fools that made up Equestria would be scrambling to see it. A strange, unknown creature on display that also plays music? What's not to love?
Of course, the real issue was summoning one. Humans had faded into myth long ago, all of their achievements forgotten over the course of time. Trixie herself wasn’t even entirely sure that this would work, or that humans had ever existed in the first place. It only takes a few well-placed words to blur the line between history and myth.
Now, all she needed was a little more money so that she could set everything up. A loan seemed like the best idea. If this succeeded, she’d be able to pay it off easily. If it failed… well, Trixie would be broke anyway.
“The library's closing.”
Trixie gave a little start as she realized the librarian was standing across the table from her, a bored look on his face.
“Oh, th-thank you,” she stuttered in surprise, before composing herself and repeating the phrase in a more confident tone. "I mean... thank you."
“Do you want to check those out or not?” the librarian deadpanned, completely apathetic to Trixie's attitude.
“Yes!” Trixie snapped irritably, bunching the books together. “Of course I do.”
***
I wrap my towel around my waist as I step out of the shower—not that it's necessary. There’s no need for modesty when everyone’s already out of the house, but it always pays to be prepared. The local Jehovah's Witnesses have a bad habit of popping up at the worst possible moment.
This is what I love about Saturday mornings. Mom is downtown for a few hours, getting the groceries for the week, and my sister’s working at the corner dairy. Neither of them will be home until at least one in the afternoon, leaving me with a good three and a half hours. What's even better is that I don't have a shift rostered for today. It’s the first day off I’ve had in two weeks.
Bliss.
Passing the piano in the hall, I reach under the dust cover that lies on the keys and play a quick series of ascending octaves, before continuing into the living room. It's like what the untrained enjoy doing: making random noise… except it sounds a lot nicer.
My computer sits on the couch, its screen still paused in a freeze-frame of the credits for the Friendship is Magic episode, ‘Hearts and Hooves Day’.
With a small sigh, I close the laptop's lid, walking over to the smoldering log in the fireplace. Its passive heating is a wonderful contrast to the cold winds and frigid rain that always dominate the outside this time of year.
“My Little Pony… My Little Pony…” I start to sing under my breath as I towel off.
I continue to sing, smiling slightly as I warm myself by the embers. It’s fair to say that—aside from snatching a few minutes to tinkle the ivories—watching the show is the highlight of my days. Things are a little tight lately. It’s bleak... not horrible, but there's not much going for us right now.
“My Little Pony… I used to wonder what friendship could be…” My singing dissolves into simply humming the theme as I turn away from the fireplace and walk towards my bedroom to get changed.
I re-emerge two minutes later, my hair frizzy from the drying, and my body fully clothed.
“…Do you know you’re all my very best friends…” I finished off with the lyrics, absently rubbing at the scruffy little mustache sprouting on my lip. ‘Note to self: Shave tonight.’
With nothing better to do, I sit at the piano, removing the green-brown dust cover on the keys and playing a ‘G’, just for the hell of it.
“Sing us a song, you’re the Piano Man…” I mutter under my breath in a whimsical voice. “Sing us a song, tonight. Well we’re all in the mood for a melody… and you’ve got us feelin’ alright.”
I cut myself off, raising both hands and preparing to play a different song… something that will fit the rainy mood..
My left hand comes down to play an A minor chord, but then stops in mid-air, suddenly unable to continue.
"What..." I stare at it, attempting to discover what's stopping it from moving. Actually... something looks different. My fingertips are pale.
“When did that hap—wait…” I watch in wonder as the rest of my fingers turn a deathly white, followed by my top knuckles and then the backs of my hands. “I… what?”
My wrists slowly lose their color, followed by my forearms, and then my upper arms. It looks so strange—and it feels even stranger. The bleached skin tingles as if I’ve lost circulation… but that can’t possibly have happened.
Finally realizing that something is wrong, I jump to my feet and pull up the bottom of my shirt, knocking over the piano stool in the process. It seems that I can move my hand again, but I'm too panicked for it to register.
My stomach and chest have turned pale, and I’m starting to feel very weird.
I’m about to shout, when my arms seize up and lose whatever remaining color they had retained, followed almost immediately by my knees locking up beneath me, dropping me to all fours. My back is trembling—heaving, even—as my joints and chest are wracked with a sharp, electrical pain and my mouth is forced open in a soundless scream.
My head drops to the carpet and I stare at the pedals of my piano, trying desperately to move. ‘What’s happening? Am I dying?’
Before my brain can form a single thought more, my vision is filled with a rich shade of magenta, and everything else is lost.
***
My eyes flutter open, and I jerk upright.
‘Ugh… What…’ I look down at my hands. They look normal—not white, not even pale.
“So, it awakens...” a female voice rings out, making me start in surprise as I climb to my feet. ‘What…’
I look around, and realize that I’m in a cage.
‘A cage? Why... am I… I’m a prisoner?’
The cage in question has hay strewn along the ground, with a flat mattress in one corner and what looks like a beaten up piano in another. I can’t see much else, as the area outside the cage is shrouded in darkness.
Groggily, I try to take a step towards the bars of the cage, teetering on the balls of my feet and nearly crashing headfirst into the piano.
“Poor balance, but the hands are what count,” the female voice says again, and I see a darker patch of shadow shift slightly around my poorly lit prison.
Placing my attention on the dark patch, I rub my eyes, letting out a small groan.
“Where… where am I? What did you… you do to me?” My voice is raspy, and I realise that I am completely parched. “Who are you?”
“My name isn’t important.” The female voice sounds scornful. “It would only intimidate you."
“Oh, trust me, it’s very important,” I snap, my temper suddenly flaring. “If I’m going to be abducted, then I want to know who did it, you piece of horseshit!”
Even as the last few words leave my mouth, the reality of the situation comes crashing down on me. I’ve been abducted—kidnapped. I’m in a dirty cage in the dark, and I’m brashly insulting my captor.
The shadow shifts again, adjusting its position.
“Well, then…” The shape steps into the light, and I let out a loud curse in surprise.
Is that really who I think it is? Could it possibly be… her?
There’s a cape and stereotypical wizard hat… both worn by a blue pony. A pony.
It is. It’s her.
“If you really must know, my name is—”
“Trixie!” The word comes flying out of my mouth, layered with shock and disbelief.
The blue mare is silent, staring at me with a wide-eyed expression that conveys so many emotions that I can’t even begin to acknowledge them all.
She stares at me wildly for a full five seconds, before finally moving her face closer to the bars of my cage.
“How do you know that?” she hisses venomously, her horn starting to glow.
I stare at the mare in shock. This can’t be happening. She can’t actually be real! She’s from a TV show. She’s from My Little Pony! Maybe I've been drugged, or had a seizure, or something... I mean, this can't be real!
Trixie leans a little closer, her horn flashing.
I let out a loud gasp of surprise as my midsection is encased in a magenta aura, restraining me.
“What—” I start, before suddenly being cut off by my captor.
“I’ll ask you again: how do you know my name?” Trixie’s face is taking on a red hue as she becomes more enraged.
Panicking, I struggle against the magical aura, only to be stopped as the grip tightens, causing me to yelp.
“Tell me!” Trixie shouts, prompting me to start speaking.
“Argh! Trixie!" I splutter in shock. "Y-you’re not real!”
“What do you mean not real?” Trixie’s face darkens.
“You’re a f-fictional character, from M-My Little—urk!—My Little Pony!” I gasp as the grip tightens again. I can barely breathe. “Traveling—ack!—Magician, stopped in P-Ponyville!”
I wheeze and flail around as Trixie’s expression turns into one of surprise, and the pressure on my chest slowly increases.
“You—ugh!—were humiliated!” My words just barely slip through my throat, nothing more than a strangled croak. “Sh-shown up as a fraud!”
Bad choice of words.
Trixie lifts me off the floor with her magic, before dropping me a good meter onto my face.
“Don’t you dare call me a fraud!” she shouts, the words left to linger in my thoughts as I black out.
This cage is disgusting. I’ve been living in it for well over a week, I’m sure of it now. I think I was right when I thought it could be close to a month.
My stomach is growling – as usual. The only time I get food is either when I’m about to perform, or if I haven’t eaten for a long time. I can’t say how long, because I can’t measure the days.
If I ever get out of this cage, I will make Trixie pay for what she’s done to me. I’m sure that if it wasn’t for her healing magic I wouldn’t be able to move at the moment, considering how much pain she’s inflicted upon me – but then again, I’m no doctor. If I can’t get home, then I’ll never be anything more than a piano-playing slave.
This is all Trixie’s fault, she brought me here – and those bastard ponies that watch my show. They don’t even care! They either pay their bits to Trixie, or just throw them at me – A few even point and laugh. I can’t believe it. The show was never this grim. Ever.
I’m still not sure if this is all real. It definitely feels real, but this is all just too… impossible. What if I’ve had a stroke? I think the only thing that I can be sure of is that something’s wrong. Whether I’m in a stroke-induced coma or I’m actually a slave remains to be seen.
Trixie will be back soon. She normally comes back after I’ve been alone for this long. It must be hard for her to forget what happened the last time she left me alone for too long.
***
Three weeks ago…
“Wake up, human.” Trixie’s voice barks as a force that feels both cold and warm at the same time takes hold of my chest, dragging me into a sitting position.
My eyes don’t flutter open like the last time I woke up. I’m in much more pain than before – mostly around the face, coincidentally.
“Wake up, Human.” Trixie’s voice demands, the same force envelopes my eyelids, and they snap open.
My head is swimming, and my gaze can’t focus properly.
“Ugh…” I moan slightly, realizing that my lower face and neck feels wet… and sticky… “Sticky…”
“You can hear me.” Trixie isn’t asking… and that confuses me. Is she looking for confirmation to that statement, or does she somehow know it to be a fact?
Well, she get’s her confirmation anyway. As I sluggishly ponder what she had just said, a little groan slips out of my mouth.
“Excellent.” Trixie’s voice shifts closer, and I see a hazy shape in front of my unfocused eyes.
Suddenly, something hard strikes me in the forehead, and my eyes suddenly find focus, showing Trixie’s face only twenty centimetres from mine, her hoof retracting from my head.
“Ugh… Trixie…” I mumble, slumping to one side in my daze.
“You earned that punishment, human.” She spat – literally spat – into my eye.
If I had been any more lucid, I would have flown into a rage at the indignity of having Trixie spit in my eye. As it is, my mouth morphs into an unsteady scowl, and I clumsily reach up to wipe the saliva off my face.
In the process of removing Trixie’s saliva, I accidentally brush the side of my nose, drawing a sudden and sharp stab of agony that makes my head spin.
“Agh!” I cry out as I wrench my hand away, cringing in pain and dragging my legs closer to me away. The hand is stained with blood.
Trixie’s disinterested look doesn’t change as I stare at my hand, and then tentatively poke out my tongue.
I hesitantly curve my tongue upwards and dab the tip against the liquid covering my lower face. It’s blood.
Trixie’s expression remains unchanged as I slowly piece together the facts, realise that my nose is broken from the fall, and turn to look at her again.
“My… My nose?”
Trixie shrugs. “Consider that something to remind you who is in charge here. Now then, lets get this straight: I don’t care who you are where you come from. Here, you are mine, and you will do what I say. I don’t care how you know of my world, or what you know. You’re here to do my bidding, and that is the end of it.”
I have no retort to offer, as I have returned to staring blankly at the blood on my hand. I wasn’t scared of blood, but seeing it on my hand just looked… weird… shocking, for some reason – which was odd. I’ve seen my blood many times before this.
Not acknowledging my silence, Trixie continued her speech.
“And my bidding is for you to play... This.” She moved to one side, drawing my attention to the stained piano sitting in the corner of the cage.
“What?” I shake my head in confusion. “Why?”
Trixie held up one hoof and twitched it from side-to-side. “Ponies can’t play the piano without magic – and with magic we play it very, very badly. Only baby dragons and griffons have the appendages necessary to play the piano – and they aren’t really suited for the task. It’s always confounded me as to why we created the infernal instrument when nopony can use it properly.”
I feel like pointing out the reason they have pianos is because this is a human-made cartoon show, but that will most likely just enrage her.
“But humans… Well, your hands are perfect.” Trixie seemed to purr. “I realised that if I could find a human, I could use it to draw a crowd. Everypony would be astounded by such amazing dexterity and skills.” She smiled sickly. “And now I have you.”
“Do you really think that everyone will just let you get away with turning me into a slave?” I finally find my voice – and with it comes my temper.
“Only one way to find out.” Trixie’s smile widens, taking on a demented look in the bad lighting. “But first, I want you to play.”
“Play?” My temper flares. “You broke my nose! I’m not going to play for you!”
Trixie’s smile doesn’t change. “Well, that was easy. Now I know that you can play.
I fall silent. Did I just get tricked by Trixie? Yes. Yes I did.
“Anyway, I need to know just how well humans are able to play this confounded instrument, so you will play.”
“The hell I will.” I glare at the piano in the corner, and then at Trixie – before it dawns on me.
Trixie is in the cage. She’s less than two meters away. I could knock her unconscious right now and escape.
My rage takes over as I realise I can make a break for freedom, and I dive towards the piano, planning to grab the stool and throw it at my captor.
I don’t even make it halfway to the stool before my vision is obscured by the aura of Trixie’s magic.
“Pathetic.” Trixie’s magic lifts me into the air, and then slams me none-to-gently against the bars of the cage.
She turns me painfully against the bars so that I’m facing her.
“Well, I was planning to leave this lesson for later, but I can see that we won’t be getting anywhere unless you understand your position in our… arrangement.”
My head is swimming from its impact with the bars, depriving me of any retort - although it doesn’t stop me from expressing my fury with an ugly and animalistic snarl.
“Now then, I suppose that if you know about me, then you know about the three ponies – Earth, unicorn and Pegasus. Well, each species has its own magical ‘field’. The unicorns have their horns, the earth ponies have their ability to interact with nature, and the Pegasi have their ability to control the clouds.”
“So?” I mumble half heartedly, recovering from my daze.
“Well…” Trixie continued, creasing her brow. “There’s an obvious imbalance in the scale of power. The Unicorns can actively command theirs, and have a much larger ‘reservoir’ than the others. The Pegasus can walk on clouds and live in the sky, and the Earth ponies are simply good with animals and farming. You would think that the Unicorns would be able to control of the other two by using their superior magic.”
I say nothing. She’s starting to lose me, and I really don’t see what this has to do with our situation.
“Well they don’t. In fact, the three pony species co-exist, and the Unicorns will never be able to take control – even if Celestia wasn’t here to keep order.” Trixie leaves Celestia unexplained. Whether she assumes I already know of her, or simply doesn’t care, I do not know.
“The reason for this, is because when Unicorns use their magic on something we must first overwhelm the magic of whatever we are trying to influence with their own, which is why we can manipulate inanimate objects so easily. Other ponies are a different matter.”
My eyes widen slightly, as I realise what Trixie is leading up to.
“Controlling a pony is very difficult. Sure, it’s easy enough to manipulate limbs and other body parts, but seizing control of the mind is much more difficult. By the time a Unicorn has ‘negated’ another ponies’ natural magic reserves, they normally have very little magic left to properly control their new servant. It’s all a very complicated system. There are entire research fields dedicated to the subject.”
The expression of rage on my face is gone now, replaced by a look of utter shock at what she’s implying.
Trixie starts to smile again, and I am surprised by how much this lecture reminds me of Twilight Sparkle – if she were demented and insane.
“So the fun part here, is that-”
“-Is that humans have no inner magic to fight back with.” I finish the lecture for her, hoping that she’s going to deny what I’m saying and deliver some less soul-crushing conclusion than the one I’ve reached.
Trixie breaks into a full grin – her eyes glinting with delight at the look of hopelessness on my face.
“Exactly.” She replies smugly as my heart skips a beat and drops into my scuffed and tattered shoes. “I can seize control of your brain whenever I want – and make you do whatever I want.” She nodded towards the piano, referring to what she wants me to do.
“The magic isn’t perfect. There’s no such thing as precision control when you’re bucking around in someponies head, but I can still make you do what I want.”
Deciding to illustrate her point, Trixie releases me, and I collapse onto my knees, not anticipating the return of control.
Of course, my first thought is of attacking before she can do any-
My thought stops dead.
There’s something inside my head. It doesn’t feel cold, or warm, or painful or nice, but there’s definitely something there… a presence. It’s like having a little bit of extra pressure on the inside of my skull.
“Do you feel that?” Trixie gloats. “That’s me inside your head. I can make you do whatever I want.”
“Whatever you-” I stop as I suddenly raise an arm. There’s no aura surrounding any part of me, and yet I am unable to make my arm return to my side.
My mind is reeling from the info-dump that Trixie has just delivered, while I bewilderedly stare at my arm.
“You…” I trail off, and turn to look at my captor once more.
Trixie smiles at me. “So, now that we have that sorted out…” She takes a few steps away from me and gestures towards the piano. “Play.”
If I ever manage to get out of here, then I’ll make sure that Trixie suffers.
It seems ironic now though. I’ve nearly escaped her grasp twice since she brought me here, using up the only two tricks available to me in this cramped little hell-hole.
The first time was the easiest to pull off – so I suppose that Trixie was expecting it, which would explain why it turned out the way it did. The second time was much more interesting… I managed to get so far…
***
I sit down at the piano, lifting up the lid to survey the yellow keys.
“Ugh.” I mutter, reaching up with one hand to play a high C octave, before progressively moving down to the bottom C. I then follow through with B, A, G, F, E and D, while Trixie approaches from the side to watch.
“What exactly are you playing, human?” She asks, a concerned look on her face as I start playing a progression of C#’s.
“I’m not playing.” I spit back rebelliously as I start on the A#’s. “I’m making sure this ugly thing is in tune.”
“Well, is it?”
I quickly test the rest of the black keys before responding. “Close enough.” I mumble, but I’m still angry. If this stupid mare is going to enslave me, then I’m going to make her life hell. “The high and top B’s are a little flat.”
“I don’t care.” Trixie’s face takes on a slightly irritated look. “Play.”
“Listen, I’m not going to-”
“Play!” Trixie snaps, and I feel the force of her magic in my mind.
Automatically, my hands whip up, and my mind races. What do I play? I could play-
“PLAY!”
My eyes flutter for a moment at the impulse being sent to my brain, and then I start to play, working my way through the piece that had been at the front of my mind a moment before – Fur Elise.
Trixie watches in fascination as my hands dance over the keys, captivated by the fluid hand movements of the deceptively simple piece. I myself barely focus on the song. It was one of the earlier ones I had learnt – the kind which I knew off-by-heart.
As I come to the end of the piece, I wonder if they have some sort of pony version of Beethoven here. Beethoofen, or Beethooven sound like suitable puns.
I finish the song, and look at Trixie, who is smiling wickedly.
“Excellent.” She chuckles. “This should work out wonderfully.”
‘I don’t like the sound of that.’
***
I sit on the floor of my cage. Trixie is gone, leaving me in this meagre pool of light.
Looking down at my hands, I wonder whether she would send me home if they were broken, or just ‘put me down.’
Shaking my head, I stand up and walk over to one of the cage walls, leaning against the bars to test their strength. To my dismay, I find that the bars feel like they should – sturdy, thick and solid. Nothing I’d ever be able to get through.
“Fuck me.” I mutter, looking down at my clothes. The spell Trixie used to bring me here had ripped at them, turning them into a loose pile of tatters. Surely she won’t force me to play in these.
With a little sigh, I sit down on the piano stool, pointedly facing away from the piano. It’s the only chair I have – no back support either.
I can’t help but feel faintly amused at how I still note such trivialities as the piano stool not having any back support when I’m sitting in a cage with my broken nose visible to my right eye. You would have thought I would have stopped taking things for granted by now, but apparently that’s a mindset that is difficult to slip out of so quickly. I’m sure it’ll be gone soon. There’s nothing to take for granted in this situation.
I look up at the ceiling, wondering what the source of light for this little cage is.
To my surprise, it’s a candle – which is odd, considering the light around me isn’t flickering. I can’t even guess why the light isn’t flickering, when the candle clearly is.
Half-heartedly, I pick up a small handful of the thin layer of straw on the ground, arrange it into a long clump, and throw it lengthways through the top bars at the candle.
To my complete surprise, the clump hits the flame dead on, and it goes out, enveloping me in darkness.
I sit there for a second, surprised at how perfectly that worked, before suddenly smiling.
It’s a stupid idea. It isn’t well thought out, and if it fails, then I have no clue how Trixie will react.
That bitch is going to have a little surprise waiting for her when she gets back.
***
The door opens, briefly letting light into the room, and then closes again.
I smile, crouching underneath the piano keyboard. I need to move fast, and I need to be convincing. If I’m silent, Trixie will most likely panic and ruin the plan.
I’ve had a bit of time to think this over. The plan seems okay in theory, but execution is tricky.
If I fail then there’ll probably be hell to pay, but I would be an idiot not to take my chance.
I hear the sound of tentative hoofsteps moving closer to the cage.
“H-hello?”
She’s scared? Oh, that fills me with glee. A tiny amount of revenge already – provided that wasn’t just a slight slip of the tongue. Maybe the darkness just surprised her.
I think I’ll just imagine Trixie as being scared.
I take a couple of breaths, and then groan. “Ugh…”
The hoofsteps stop, and Trixie speaks.
“Human? What are you doing?”
I groan again. “Ugh… Head…”
Trixie takes a few more steps towards the cage, close to the door now. Her horn lights up, as does the lock to the cage door. Of course, she doesn’t open it. She’s checking to make sure it’s locked.
This works fine. It illuminates her face ever so slightly, while leaving me shrouded in the pitch-black darkness. It gives me something to watch, and track what’s happening.
I smile again at how well this is working, before groaning again. “I… the light…” I start to crawl closer to the cage door taking care not to make more noise than Trixie.
Another groan slips out of my mouth, slightly quieter so that she doesn’t realise that I’m moving closer.
Trixie herself moves slightly closer to the cage, peering in. Of course, even if the room wasn’t completely pitch black she still wouldn’t be able to see with her horn shining in her eyes. It seems unbelievably stupid to me. How is she falling for such a harebrained idea?
I grin again, before letting out one more groan. It’s time for the big finale.
“What happened, human?”
I don’t respond, slowly rising to a kneeling position.
Carefully and quietly, I reach down my throat, one finger extended, and prod my uvula.
Almost instantly, I gag, letting out a choked groan as my stomach heaves.
"Human?"
The job not finished, I once again poke my uvula, and then quickly pull my hand out of my mouth as my gag reflex kicks in, and my stomach heaves violently.
I vomit, making sure to spray it at Trixie. As unpleasant and disgusting as it is, this is the most important part of my deception.
"Clop!" Trixie reels back as my vomit splatters her hoofs, giving out a shout of surprise, while I start moaning loudly.
“Oh god… Ugh!” I start complaining vocally, cringing over as Trixie rushes to a corner of the room, and then returns with an object – which is quickly revealed to be a lantern.
The cage is flooded with light as the lantern comes to life, and Trixie’s magic unlocks the cage door.
I redouble my performance, holding my stomach while keeping my face planted against the ground, moaning loudly. My mouth tastes like crap, but it’ll be worth it if this pays off.
It had been going well, but it was too much to hope that Trixie would just walk in here without a light source. It’s good enough that she’s in the cage, and hopefully that should be enough.
At least she’s in my reach.
Trixie approaches, still hesitant, while I wait for the perfect time to strike.
I wait until she is actually throwing a shadow over me.
“Human, tell me what is-”
I uncurl, rising to one knee and reaching out with both hands.
“Fuck you!” I shout, grasping Trixie by the chin and horn, before slamming her head into the ground.
She stumbles away as I release her, cursing loudly at the pain and releasing her magical grip on the lantern
I get to my feet and make a break for the cage door, arms pumping as the lantern drops to the floor, shifting the lighting in the room dramatically.
I race through it, nearly slipping in the small puddle of vomit outside the cage.
"Shit!" I curse as I manage to regain my balance and keep running out into the room, making a break for the door.
My hand reaches out, ready to grasp the handle even as I vaguely acknowledge the light in the room shifting once more, and the area around me starting to get brighter.
Something blind-sides me. Something metallic, and hot.
The lantern.
I collapse face-first against the door of the room, shouting in agony as my nose impacts with the wood while the back of my head continues to get hotter.
Did she really just do that?
I flop to the ground, slightly dazed as the sound of Trixie's hooves reach my ears. It isn’t helped that I once again land on my face, bringing another jolt of stabbing pain to my nose.
“No!” The shout escapes my lips as a force envelopes my legs, dragging me away from the door. “NO-NO!”
The force flips me over, and I find myself staring at my captor, an angry welt on one side of her head, and an enraged glare in her eyes.
“Yes.” She growls, one vomit stained hoof coming down and striking me in the face.
My head spins as Trixie attacks again, slamming her hoof into my face again and again, attacking the nose, mouth and cheeks.
She keeps it up for a good two minutes, beating me until my eyes are swollen to the point that I can barely see, and blood trickles out of the corners of my mouth.
And then she stops, holding me in place with her hooves.
Through my punch-drunkenness, I wonder what Trixie is doing, until I see the wicked and enraged gleam in her eyes.
Then it hits me. My head is feeling even hotter than before…
And Trixie threw a lantern at me.
The first of the flames reach my scalp, and I start to scream.
I doubt that many people alive today can say that they know what it is like to be held down while their hair is on fire. It’s like a less lethal version of being strangled. You can struggle and fight all you want, but in the end… it happens.
The sensation was shocking. Surprising as it may be, one’s hair can actually be quite heavy. You may not notice your head feeling lighter after a trim, but when your scalp is burnt bald, it is definitely noticeable – and horrible. The sensation of your head becoming lighter… the rapidly growing heat…
The worst moment physically was – of course – when the fire reached my scalp, (Hair doesn’t hurt when you cut it off, and neither does it hurt when it is burnt. Most of it is dead anyway) but mentally, the worst moment was half a second before that, when my head was feeling unbearably hot, and I could tell what was about to happen.
It’s like being tortured. You know that it’s going to happen, and that you could stop it happening in any other situation, but right now, you’re helpless.
Am I really rambling about the details of how my hair was burnt off? Is it that important to me?
Yes. It is, because it was my hair – something that I’ve always had. I suppose you can never understand how traumatic such an experience is unless you live through it. That mare... holding me down... doing nothing but smiling while I scream.
Trixie's nothing short of a monster. She’s a megalomaniacal psychopath. I swear to god, that if I get out of here, I’ll strap her to a wooden board and put a flaming torch to her chest – burn her alive like the monster she is.
That was my first escape attempt, and it didn’t end well. There were only a few ways it could have ended. I could have escaped, I could have been killed, and I could have been recaptured. Out of all of them, it had to be the worst one.
Aren’t I lucky?
It took place the day before my first performance – which ended up working in my favour. Trixie couldn’t send my out on stage with my head the way it was. Who would want to see a show where the performer was not only bald, but their head had obviously been torched?
So she fixed me. I couldn’t believe it, but within a few short hours, Trixie returned, woke me up from my strange hybrid of sobbing and sleeping, and then made my hair grow back. Just like that. I had hoped that she would snap my nose back into place, but she left it how it was.
To say that Trixie properly fixed me is an overstatement, of course. She made my hair grow back to the way it was, and she healed the follicles, and in an odd act of ‘kindness’ fixed some of my actual scalp – but that wasn’t exactly gracious. It’s extremely confusing for the brain when some parts of an area are reporting ‘all clear’ while other parts a screaming ‘fucking kill me, I can’t take the pain any more.’
Fuck magic, seriously. Fuck it.
And fuck Trixie.
And this entire fucking show.
***
Close to three weeks ago…
I’m still sobbing. My hiccups and moans of sorrow bounce off the walls of this little room, returning to my ears within a quarter of a second in a confusing and eerie playback of my mental torture.
I had never thought that I would cry like this in my adult life – by which I mean; cry like a child.
My hand hasn’t left my head in the last two hours. All I can do is keep stroking my hair, and thinking about how I will never take it for granted again.
If I ever get out of this, If I ever manage to return home, I’ll be carrying some heavy emotional baggage for the rest of my life. So much that no airline will be willing to touch me – not even with a ten-foot pole.
I could live the rest of my life like this – just lying here, forever. It would still be better than having to see Trixie again. But of course, that’s nothing more than wishful thinking.
As if that thought was a mental cue, the latch to the room gives a quiet click, followed by a slow set of hoofsteps.
My head shoots up, spotting Trixie’s horn glowing in the darkness.
Instantly, my hand is wrenched away from my head, and I am lifted from my thin mattress.
“I think you’ve had long enough. It doesn’t look like you’ll be calming down any time soon, so we’re just going to move ahead.” Trixie’s face is set in a loathing scowl. “It’s time for your first performance.”
“Fuck off!” I struggle against the aura surrounding me, even as the skin around my eyes is sucked dry by it. Trixie clearly wants me presentable for my first show.
Rather than slam me against the cage wall, as I expected, Trixie simply deposits me on the floor. “I don’t have time for this. They’re waiting for you, and I’ve already taken their money. You’ll go on stage, you will play the song you played me yesterday, and then you will come back here.”
“The fuck I will!”
Trixie’s horn flares – although all she is doing is unlocking the cage. “You will. You don’t have a choice. Move.”
The magical command shocks my brain, forcing me to take a breath as my legs start moving, taking me towards the door of the cage.
“I fucking hate you.” I hiss at Trixie as her magic forces me to walk past her. “If I ever get out of here-”
“You won’t.” Trixie cuts me off scornfully. “Trust me, you won’t. Now keep walking."
It’s almost time for the show to start. I can see the shadows they cast as they mill around outside the curtains, illuminated by the bright house lights.
I’m not really sure where I am. It’s not Trixie’s carriage, and the stage isn’t big enough for it to be a theatre, so it’s probably some café. Apparently being ripped through universes and getting beaten senseless still isn't enough to merit playing at a prestigious venue.
I wonder if they can see me through the curtains. Probably not. They may be thin enough to see shadows through, but doesn’t the fact that I can see their shadows mean that they can’t see mine? I think that’s the way light works.
Funny. Humans are obsessed with light. We can’t get enough of the stuff. So you would think that your average human would know a little more about it. What a joke.
But this is no time for jokes. I don't think I need to clarify that slavery is no laughing matter.
As if existence itself is trying to prove me wrong, a small round of laughter drifts through the curtains. Whatever joke had been told to make ponies watching a slave-show laugh, it must have been the most hilarious combination of words ever assembled.
I suppose this is the moment of truth. When those curtains open, Somepony will either try and help me, or they’ll just sit and watch.
I can’t imagine the ponies of Equestria just sitting by watching me be forced into slavery… but then again, I never could have imagined Trixie holding me down while my hair was incinerated.
I am seated at the ‘house piano’. Too much to ask that it would be a grand, of course. Why would Murphy’s Law ever grant me something like that? Everything was clearly going so well that I would be able to cope with a lesser piano for a public performance.
I suppose I’ll suffer for doing this. Trixie wants me to play Fur Elise, but I’ve got other plans. If I’m going to play, I’m going to play what I want, and to hell with the consequences.
My gaze runs up the length of the piano. It isn’t as beaten up as the one I have at home, and much cleaner than the one down in the basement of this place – which is where Trixie has been keeping me.
As if on cue, Trixie approaches from one side, giving me a decidedly confusing look of warmth and anticipation.
“It’s almost time to start.” She glances at the piano. “The owner assures me that the piano is in tune.”
I have nothing to say to her, and yet her demeanour does not change. This 'not evil' Trixie is starting to worry me.
“So let me go over this again. You will play your piece, and if they ask for more, I will signal you to play more. You are not to speak to the audience. Nopony wants to hear you talk, and I don’t want the crowd getting angry.”
That last remark bites. Is that what humans are to these ponies? Slaves? What if there’s a whole different Equestria out there, where humans exist, and are enslaved to ponies?
No. That’s unlikely. If it were true, Trixie would hardly have needed to rip me out of my own universe. She would have been able to find a human right here in Equestria.
For some reason Trixie seems to take my silence as confirmation that I have heard her, because she trots over to the curtains as the house lights go down, immersing both sides of the curtain in gloomy darkness.
I looked down at the piano keys glumly as Trixie stepped out on stage, suddenly illuminated by a spotlight.
“Mares and Gentlecolts! The Great and Powerful Trixie…”
There were a few irritated mutterings from the audience, which was enough to make me feel a tad better.
“…Proud to present a sight not seen in Equestria since before the time of Celestia. A legendary foe of the pony, which Trixie was able to best.”
There were a few more murmurs in the audience, and I had to scoff at the river of bullshit that must have been rolling of the stage by now.
“Trixie gives you the amazing piano playing ability of... a human.” Trixie steps to one side, keeping in line with the left curtain as it and its twin slid open, exposing me to the crowd.
At the same time, I feel the pressure of her magic in my mind, and the mental command ‘play’ echoes through my head.
Obeying her command, I raise my hands to the keys and then bring them back down, starting out with the first notes of The Portrait, from Titanic.
As I begin, all I can think of is whether or not any of the ponies in the audience will help me. Surely they aren't going to just stand by and watch as I am pressed into slavery. Somepony will speak up. They have to.
That thought is wiped out as Trixie makes herself known within my mind. She can’t send an actual message - such as her voice - but she can definitely convey emotion, and what I’m getting is irritation, accompanied by frustration and a little bit of pleasure. I suppose the song I’m playing must please her, but she still seems angry that I’ve gone against her wishes.
My hands don’t falter as they move over the keys, but inside my mind my thoughts have been thrown into turmoil. All these emotions that don’t belong to me, some of them in direct conflict with my own… It’s off-putting. If this keeps up, I'll start making mistakes... Unless Trixie's magic is ensuring that I don't mess up.
The audience is remaining dead silent, and I’m still wondering when one of them is going to help me.
Then it hits me – hard.
They aren’t going to help me. These ponies are actually going to just sit there and watch me play.
The realization is shocking – almost to the point where I mess up a chord. How can they not be helping me? This is a kids show, for Christ’s sake! How can its characters condone slavery?!
A little voice in my mind also reminds me that no kids show would involve its characters beating a person senseless and then lighting their head on fire, and it’s all I can do not to let out a little moan of despair – not that I could. Trixie’s constant presence in my mind is stopping me from doing anything but play.
Finally, the song draws to a close, and I sit at the piano. I won’t give these ponies the satisfaction of acknowledging them, although my resolve is weakened slightly when my viewers start to stomp their hooves in applause - a few of them calling out praise.
“Such dexterity!”
“A marvel of nature!”
“The most amazing piece I've ever heard!”
My mouth twitches, wanting to morph into a scowl, but I refuse to give these ponies anything. My expression remains blank as I grudgingly look out over the audience – which I cannot actually see with the spotlight shining in my eyes.
My resolve not to grant the ponies in the audience any acknowledgement is strengthened as I mull over their words. These monsters are praising me for being a human. All of these compliments are for my hands, not for me.
I want to shout at them. I want to tell them all what horrible creatures they are, but Trixie’s magic keeps me rooted to the seat. I can do nothing but watch as these bastards shout their approval of the way humans evolved.
‘Trixie caused this. I’ll make sure she pays for it.’
I have to sit there for a further twenty seconds while the ponies’ applause dies down, before my head is wrenched back to look at the piano.
Trixie steps out onto the stage. “Thank you, mares and gentlecolts. Trixie is happy you enjoyed that piece. In fact, Trixie believes that another is in order.”
The crowd emits a generous amount of approving calls, and Trixie’s presence in my mind flares up again.
I tremble slightly under the mental pressure and let out a strained grunt as my hands are lifted to the piano again. I quickly select a piece, while also contemplating what I have been thinking for the last five minutes.
These ponies are monsters.
***
The curtain closes as the applause for my third piece dies down, and I hear Trixie’s voice again.
“Thank you, Mares and Gentlecolts. Please check back tomorrow for a performance schedule. Enjoy the rest of your evening!”
The friendliness in her voice makes me want to vomit. The idea that she could be anything apart from an abusive psychopath is laughable.
I hear the audience murmuring outside as Trixie come in behind the curtain.
The very first thing she does is strike me across the face with one hoof.
“That was not the piece I told you to play.” She spat, before her face morphed back into a mask of neutrality. “Nevertheless, I am pleased that you did.”
“So why’d you hit me?” I demanded, as Trixie forced me to stand up.
“Because you went against my wishes. Make no mistake, human. If you displease me, you will suffer. If you comply, I’m sure you will find this entire situation quite bearable.”
“I’m living in a cage. That will never be bearable.” I respond dejectedly, casting a quick glance at my crooked nose.
Trixie scoffed. “I’m sure that I could alter your living arrangements into something that would make a cage look like heaven. I owe you nothing.” Her horn flared, and I felt my legs start to move, carrying me back towards the door to the basement.
“And don’t you forget that.”
As Trixie opens the door ahead of me and ushers me down into the darkness, one thought crosses my mind.
I don’t suppose I need to detail every last performance I put on. That would be long and tedious. It should suffice to say that Trixie forced me to perform in much the same manner as the first time.
From what I understand, I do a show every two or three days, but I will reiterate: It’s very difficult to keep track of time without the sun as a reference.
I suppose it’s a good thing that I have an expansive repertoire, because my performances last a good half hour at a time. It’s needless to say that Trixie is not pleased if I repeat a piece two performances in a row.
Speaking of Trixie: I find her... inconsistent, and extremely contrary. Almost every performance leaves her in a good mood – an extremely bearable one at that - save for the one performance where I repeated Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’ , which I had played at the one previous. That was apparently enough merit for a black-eye, which she of course fixed a few hours later.
The way she treats me is odd... frightening, in its spontaneity. She can be congratulating me – literally congratulating me – one minute, and then be striking me for a curt remark the next.
Anyway, if my internal clock hasn’t been completely screwed over by the lack of a day-night cycle, then I believe that it was about a week – long enough to do three shows – later that I got my second chance to escape.
I’ve already said that it didn’t exactly go well – and that it was my last chance to escape. Trixie implemented new ways to stop me from getting out after my first attempt, and I had no doubt that she would do so again if I failed a second time.
Really, this is all filler... just building up to a little while ago… when I snapped.
But in the long run, I might as well put this all down here. All for the record, I suppose.
***
Two Weeks Ago…
If I have any grasp on time at all anymore, then I’m fairly sure that I’ve been here for just over a week. Eight or nine days, probably.
Time is just another thing out of my reach in this cell. My internal clock can’t function properly like this – and my sleep patterns reflect that. I can fall asleep at any time, which is actually interesting. When Trixie isn’t around, I can do whatever I want – except that ‘whatever I want’ is limited to sleeping and playing the piano.
That’s what I’m doing now. I’m just sitting here, playing random octaves and chord progressions.
This could be my last chance to escape. I will need to be fast, accurate, and above all, I would need to surprise her. Like my first escape attempt, the plan itself is simple, and the real problem is still in the execution.
Trixie should be coming in soon. I haven’t had a drink in a… well, a while. Normally when I’m at this level of thirst is when she graces me with a bowl of water. It's like a whole new system of keeping track of time. The thirst clock.
I think Trixie’s using some other kind of magic on me, because I haven’t had a single piece of food since I was pulled through, and yet it has taken me an incredible amount of time to start feeling hungry.
That said, my stomach is now growling every few minutes, and all I can think about is when Trixie is going to actually feed me.
My body itself is looking markedly worse-for-wear. I can make out individual ribs. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say that Trixie’s using some sort of spell to ‘mute’ my feelings of hunger. She’s probably building that up as leverage against me. I misbehave, she lets me feel just how much I'm starving, or something to that effect.
By now, nothing would surprise me.
But surely this can’t go on. She’ll have to feed me eventually… Or she might just wait until I starve to death, and then get another human.
Could she really be doing that? Just… running me into the ground, and then picking another human? What if she’s done that before?
It was that thought that made me decide to act. I have this plan of escape, and if I wait any longer, and Trixie doesn’t feed me, then I will be too weak to try.
All I need to do is to wait for that water.
I’ll need to get some rest – even a little, and when Trixie arrives, I’ll need to move fast.
With that in mind, I flop backwards, laying down on the thin layer of hay strewn across the floor, wrapping one hand around the leg of the piano stool. Trixie will be suspicious that I’m not on my mattress, but I doubt it will stop her from delivering the water.
The angle will be terrible, and I’m probably going to hurt myself, but it’s worth a shot.
***
The sound of the lock of the cage turning rouses me from my light sleep, snapping my eyes open.
It’s time.
I wait tensely, my back facing the cage door as it swings open. After that, Trixie will slide the water bowl into the cage, and lock the door again.
Each noise is crucial, for I need them to keep track of when to start. I can’t screw this up. If I do, Trixie won’t give me another chance – In fact, she’ll probably just barbecue my head again. The very thought of it nearly makes me shiver, which would alert Trixie to the fact that I’m not sleeping.
‘Wait…’ My mind screams the command at my body. ‘Wait… NOW!’
I roll over, bodily gripping the leg of the piano stool.
With a loud shout, I lift it off the ground, nearly dislocating my shoulder with the effort of lifting something so heavy from such a bad angle – and with one arm.
I release my grip, and the stool sales across the cage, and Trixie shouts, backing away from the door as her horn lights up.
Too little, Too late.
The stool collides with her face, producing a satisfying crunch as it knocks Trixie off her hooves and lands on top of her as she collapses.
Meanwhile, I propel myself across the cage floor, grabbing the door before it can close and using it as a prop to rise to my feet.
Trixie is lying on the ground, dazed from the impact, while I flee, running straight past her. I’m sorely tempted to stop and wreak my revenge on the mare for what she’s done, but everything I can think of would involve bringing her back to her senses with the pain, and then she would simply seize control of my mind again.
It’s infuriating. She’s right there, helpless, but trying to do anything would just get me recaptured.
With that in mind, I bolt for the door, ripping it open and making my way up the steps, taking them two-at-a-time.
There’s no lantern to stop me this time.
Now I’m backstage, headed out for the main area of the café. The first thing I notice is that lack of any light except for the one above the basement door. The windows aren’t letting any in either, which means it's either night time, or all this is the result of the rapture, and I'm about to get fucked over by demons - Which is still higher on my to-do list than getting recaptured by Trixie.
I run out into the main area of the café, which is filled with tables and stacked chairs. It seems like a nice little place. At a glance, you would never think that it was using a slave for its entertainment.
I wrap my hand around the knob of the front door and pull it open, before stepping out into the open.
“Yes!” I breathe out enthusiastically, savouring the taste of fresh air – something I haven’t been able to enjoy for some time... and I'll admit it, I was also pretty happy that there wasn't a squad of demons waiting outside the door to use me as a kebab. That not happening is a plus in any situation.
Unfortunately, I can’t stay to enjoy the sensation of freedom, as an enraged shout erupts from the innards of the Café, forcing me to take flight once again, sprinting through the streets.
This place isn’t Ponyville, Canterlot, Cloudsdale or Appaloosa. That much is clear. The architecture is totally different. I can tell that, even in this low lighting. Everything is constructed out of an ugly looking brick. Is this Manehattan, or Trottingham? It doesn’t look like it would be Las Pegasus.
The streets are slick. It must have rained recently, and considering how ‘heavy’ the air feels, it’s probably going to start raining again soon. I never thought I would see the day when I couldn’t wait to get caught in the rain.
Wow... the things we take for granted... from internet access to the 'privilege' of getting caught up in the mischievous doings of that nefarious troll called Nature.
Another shout echoes behind me, startling me as I sprint through the streets and causing me to slip on the wet cobblestones.
“Oh god, no!” I pant as I slide to a stop. My legs skinned and aching.
I scrabble back to my feet, and continue running, now limping from my fall.
This is bad. I can run, but Trixie can gallop. How did I not think of this before?! I either hide, or she catches me, and drags me back there - and she’ll probably beat me unmercifully in the process.
Suddenly my left leg falls out from underneath me, inexplicably sliding to the left and dropping me to the ground.
Well, inexplicably isn’t exactly the right word, because the magenta aura surrounding it probably had something to do with it.
My face slams into the stone cobbles, briefly stunning me.
‘No, no!’ My mind races as I scramble forwards. Was it really over this quick? I’d only been on the run for three minutes at the most! It couldn’t have been that short!
“I can’t go back there! I need…” Tears are streaming down my face. “I…”
A hoof plants itself in my back, cutting me off with its presence.
“Don’t worry. You aren't going back there.” Trixie’s voice whispers in my ear, before I’m flipped over by her magic.
She’s looking down at me, an angry cut and bruise combination marring her forehead, yet a shockingly calm – possibly even compassionate – look on her face.
“Do you want to know why?” She smiles, the benevolent expression distorted into a terrifying grin by the angle at which I view it.
I let out a small choked sound as she raises a hoof, still smiling like a sympathetic mother. For some reason, despite everything she’s done, this is the most terrifying trixie has ever been for me. She’s been hit in the head by a piano stool – thrown by me. No one should be smiling after that.
Using my choked whimper as a surrogate answer, Trixie lifts her hoof a little higher, and I realise that she is about to strike me.
“You aren’t going back there, because we are taking this show on the road.”
Before I can react, her hoof comes down, striking me on the side of the head.
I look up at her face, still smiling in that same caring manner as the hoof impact jars me to the core, before she raises the offending limb again.
“Sorry.” She says insincerely. “This wasn’t meant to take more than one try.”
“No…” I mumble weakly, raising one hand feebly in an attempt to ward-off what’s certainly coming next.
For a few precious minutes, I had freedom. Admittedly, most of that was simply a freedom to run, but I can always take solace in the fact that even if I never see freedom again, I had it.
For the briefest amount of time, I had it again.
Then again, I don’t think dwelling on that in the future will cheer me up. It’ll probably just depress me.
Trixie is still acting the same way… she didn’t even get angry over my escape attempt. Is that better or worse than being tormented for it? I’m inclined to say worse, because it seems like she’s bottling up her rage… and when it comes out… I shudder to think of what will happen.
For now, I can say that at least my life has more variety. I only play twice or so in each town – and from what I can tell, it’s normally in the same day. Then we move on, and head to the next town.
As it turns out, those first shows I did were in Trottingham. From there, we moved to Fillydelphia. Oddly enough, these ponified real life cities aren't overly far from each other. I don’t know how fast we travel, but Las Pegasus and Fillydeplhia are definitely not as far from each other as their real-world counterparts.
Also, that name has always bugged me. ‘Fillydelphia’. If you re-translate it back into normal English, then it turns into Girldelphia. That just doesn’t seem right – kind of like how the word ‘everypony’ is also redundant. ‘Everybody’ and ‘everyone’ still applies in Equestria, because ponies still have bodies, and are all single entities unique from one-another. I think the PONIES.MOV series referenced that at one point as well… That weird drug addicted version of Spike had a good point.
I think that long tangent with no relation to my current situation shows that I have adapted to my situation slightly. I say slightly, because… well, I suppose you’ll find about.
Back to the point, so far we’d gone from Trottingham, and stopped over in Las Pegasus, Fillydelphia, Manehatten, Brismane and Stalliongrad. Each city was remarkably different. despite their general proximity – although the audiences weren't.
Wherever I went, I was showered with praise for being such an evolutionary masterpiece.
I began to wonder… if I arrived at Ponyville, would the reaction be the same? At the same time, I wondered if Trixie would take me to Ponyville at all. She would either still be unable to go back to the site of her humiliation, or would want to go back and brag some more, and show off her amazing skill for enslaving defenceless humans.
As it turns out, I didn’t need to wonder long. We arrived in town what I imagine to be three days ago, and Trixie didn’t waste any time setting up shop.
***
Three days ago…
Apparently, I’ve really been bringing in the money. Every town we stop in has a bigger audience waiting for me than the last. Through my slavery, I’ve become something of a sensation. In any other situation, I would be overjoyed.
I’ve been resigned as of late. From city to city, all I do is just play. I’ve barely let out a single rebellious statement since we left Trottingham. All I can think of is that Ponyville is probably my last hope. I can imagine this being the new Trixie episode that was rumoured for Season Three. Trixie comes back with a new show, and the Mane Six decide to go see it. That would be wonderful, because it would ensure my safety. Nothing ever turns out bad in the show.
Wishful thinking, I know. I am sure that at least one of the Mane Six will come to see the show, and that will most likely be my last chance to get out of this… well, it isn’t that much of a nightmare anymore, but I can’t say that I enjoy it either.
I can hear them outside, setting up the stage and getting the piano in position. I suppose that means that Trixie will be coming in to get me soon. I know just what to play. Something dramatic and attention-grabbing, and then a few softer songs… I’ll probably end with a bang.
You have to enjoy what you do, and I enjoy playing the piano. If only I could be playing it in more enjoyable circumstances.
Or any other circumstance, for that matter.
I stand up and start to pace, my nerves finally showing themselves.
“God…” The word slips out of my mouth. “This is it.” Why I’m talking to myself, I don’t know. “Make or break. Make or break…”
By this point, I might as well be broken. If I don’t get help… then…
A loud click interrupts my mild panic as Trixie opens the door to the wagon.
“Well, human.” She approaches, her face neutral. “It’s show-time.”
“No shit.” I shoot back. If today is make or break, I might as well get in some good lines. “I take it that you want me to play something really flashy so that you can gloat at Twilight?”
Trixie paused, her face scrunching up in confusion, before she waved her hoof.
“The lavender unicorn? Oh please.” She smiled in a somewhat grim manner. “Do you have any idea how popular we are? She’s nothing compared to our show.”
“She’s an Element of Harmony, and of course I don’t know. You never let me outside.”
“Being an Element of Harmony does not mean that she is as popular as us…” Trixie glanced up at the roof.
“And we both know why I can’t let you outside. You’d just try and escape... again.” She puts emphasis on the ‘again’ as if my escape attempts are some sort of trivial annoyance, and not feats that left her with angry welts on her face.
I myself am still surprised that Trixie has no interest in my knowledge of Equestria. I told her exactly what she was back when we first met, and she has never inquired further. In fact, she explicitly said that she didn’t care. How can she not be interested in how I know all this?
Trixie’s magical aura envelops the lock of the cage, and it springs open.
“Just go out there and play. I’m sure you’ll see your precious Twilight in the audience.”
“You better hope I don’t.” I mutter under my breath, scowling as Trixie forces me to walk.
***
Trixie seats me at the piano, and then moves away to give me some room.
The stage we use is a half-circle that juts out from the side of Trixie’s wagon, the entire length of it’s curve covered by a pair of large red curtains. Rather dramatic, if you ask me.
I should also add that the piano I use now is actually quite nice. It’s still a little beaten up, but in far better condition than any of the pianos I’ve used so far during my time in Equestria. Still not a grand, but in a place like Ponyville. That would be too much to hope for.
I’m more surprised that I never got access to a grand in Las Pegasus, or any of the big cities… but then again, I suppose I wasn’t popular enough to merit one at the time.
But, if these shows weren’t popular before, they sure are now. Everypony just loves to come out and watch the Piano Man play. (I still wonder how Trixie came up with that) It sounds like most of Ponyville is milling around outside those curtains.
A few dings of a bell signal the audience to be quiet, and the large wrap around curtains are pulled back, turning into a backdrop for the performance as they open me and Trixie up into the crowd.
I look out at all of the equines as she steps forward and begins her standard monologue – albeit with a slight dash of humility that I had never thought possible.
“Mares and Gentlecolts, The Great and Powerful Trixie is overjoyed to see that you all have come out for today’s show. Trixie hopes that the previous show performed in Ponyville will not tarnish this one.”
If this had been an episode, I would have thought that Trixie must have learned her lesson since last time, although I actually know that she is simply a lot better at hiding her massive ego from the audience. That feigned humility almost sounds real.
As Trixie continues to speak, I place my focus on the audience. In the broad daylight, I can see them all perfectly fine. There’s Cheerilee… Big Mac up towards the back end of the crowd, carrying Applebloom so that she can get a good view…
The amount of ponies I recognize is heartbreaking. All of these characters that used to be so innocent for me, now here to watch me play… and yet, I still haven’t been able to spot any of the Mane Si-
Scratch that. There’s Rainbow Dash, hovering above the crowd along with multiple other pegasi. Her bored expression wounds me. So I’m a slave and boring?
The crowd hasn’t dissolved into chaos, so I don’t think Pinkie is here… What about the others?
Oh, there’s Rarity and Applejack, standing with Lyra over to one side. This definitely isn’t an episode. If it was, then all of the Mane Six would be up at the front in a neat line, and they certainly wouldn’t be interacting with any of the fan favourites.
So that’s three down. The others have to be here, surely. It would be impossible to find diminutive little Fluttershy in this crowd, and I don’t have the time to search for her anyway. Trixie’s introduction is almost over.
I scan from side to side, trying to spot the lavender unicorn I’ve been searching for. If anyone will be the voice of reason in this mess, the one to speak up and say that this isn’t right, it’ll be her.
There are so many ponies. How am I meant to – Oh. Well there she is, up near the front, with a rather energetic looking pink-party-pony. I must have overestimated Pinkie’s energy levels, because she seems to be standing still just fine, watching Trixie intently. She’s swaying from side to side, but apart from that… nothing.
Twilight, however, isn’t watching Trixie. Like a few other ponies in the crowd, her eyes are fixed on me. The very fact that she’s acknowledging me – The Twilight Sparkle – makes me a little happier.
I can’t exactly read her expression. It seems to be a cross between neutrality, and slight concern. God, I hope that concern is directed at me. She has to think there’s something wrong. She has to say something.
‘Come on Twi…' I think to myself. ‘Do something. Please.’
Trixie’s magic prevents me from talking – which she has said before. To think that my ability to speak would offend the audience… Well, anyway, Trixie’s magic prevents me from talking, but I can still open my mouth.
I’m about to mouth ‘help me’, when Trixie finishes her monologue, and looks at me, sending a magical command my way.
‘God-damn it.’ I groan internally as my head turns back to the piano, and my hands move to the keys.
I throw out my previous idea of beginning with a dramatic piece, and instead start to gently play the first few notes of We’re In Heaven. A nice song… although quite repetitive without someone to sing the lyrics.
So I continue to play, still hoping beyond hope that Twilight, or Applejack, or somepony will finally shout those three words I’ve been waiting to hear for weeks now.
‘This isn’t right’. It’s not hard to say. It’s not hard to reach that conclusion, so why won’t somepony say it? Why? One of the Mane Six has to see this is wrong. They have to call Trixie out on this.
And it is to my heart wrenching dismay, that they never do.
So I play. I play piece after piece, for about forty minutes, before Trixie finally announces the end of the show.
I look out over the audience one more time before the curtains close. They’re all still there. A few look slightly emotional from the soft song I had played at the end, and Twilight still had her eyes locked on me. Why, I cannot tell. If it isn’t because of the injustice of the situation, then is it simply because I fascinate her?
She looks even more concerned than before… so maybe she wasn’t concerned about me. It could have been something else entirely. Hell, she could be fretting over a late book shipment.
I shake my head slightly, feeling the first pricks of tears at my eyes as the curtain closes, and Trixie makes me stand up.
Earlier I had said that it was make-or-break today.
Well, I’m broken. My last hope crushed.
It’s all I can do not to weep openly as Trixie ushers me back to my cage.
***
I’m alone, which is good. I don’t want Trixie to see the tears rolling down my face.
How could they just do nothing?
How could they stand by while I’m forced into slavery?
How could they just listen as I pour my rage into the god-forsaken keys?
How could she look me in the eyes, and then just do nothing?
I wish I had appreciated my old life better. I had taken so much for granted. Now my entire existence has been strained down to playing the piano, and nothing else. I love the piano, but the way I have to live… I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy - because my worst enemy is Trixie, and a life spent playing the piano would be too cushy a punishment for her crimes against the rights of all sentient beings.
That was my last lifeline. Trixie herself has never stopped reminding me that I will never be free… well, now that I have no hope left, I suppose I can meet that challenge.
No. I can’t think this way. It’s the coward’s way out. I can’t take it, but I can’t give in either.
I won’t say that I haven’t thought of this before. I always considered it to be my final plan, in case of the worst possible outcome to all this. Now that even the Mane Six has abandoned me to Trixie’s scheme… it’s all I have left to fall back on.
No. I can’t.
I’m still crying. It’s hopeless. I’ll be forced to do this until my hands give in to arthritis, and nopony even cares.
Is that a way to live? Trixie has only given me food once since I arrived… water only comes before a show… In a way, this is a worse quality of living than that of the poorest third world children, although in other ways, it is still better.
I can’t live like this. Oppressed, underfed, tormented…
And yet I still have my way out. Maybe death would be better than this.
A little voice at the back of my mind says that I’m being irrational, and that I need to calm down, but I ignore it. I can’t think of anything but the contingency plan.
I had my shot at freedom. I blew it.
Now the contingency plan is my only way out of this.
I don’t think I need to provide much of a monologue for this. I’m still here, telling my story, so I can say that I didn’t die. Funny that, right?
They say things are funnier in hindsight, well let me tell you: There’s still nothing funny about what’s happened to me, or what I did because of it.
So let’s just get moving. We have a lot to get through.
***
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m here, stooped over on top of the piano.
It took a lot of work to get the piano lid open, but after that, it was pretty simple. Unwind the lowest length of piano wire, remove it from the piano, tie it around one of the roof-bars of the cage in a noose.
And now here I am, crouched on the lid of the piano, trying to work up the courage to jump.
The wire isn’t heavy, yet it sits on my shoulders like a dead weight, its cold steel resting against my neck.
One movement, and I can end this. That’s all it takes. All I need to be rid of this nightmare, so why can’t I do it?
I’m trying to coerce myself into the jump. If I hit the angle right, I might even be able to break my neck when the wire goes taught, and save me the pain of strangulation.
Is this the right way to handle this? Surely I can deal with this another way.
No. My situation will never change. My only weapon against Trixie is piano wire, and I could never attack her with it. She’s just take control of my mind.
I can’t live when my mind doesn’t belong to me, when someone else can literally force me to do anything they want.
My resolve is strengthening, and I am leaning out over the cage floor as I continue to debate within my head.
Trixie said I would never be free. Death is my freedom – the last option I have. I can’t do anything else. It’s as if the universe has abandoned me.
I mean, hell. There could even be a heaven – oh, no. If there is, then I’ll be going to hell for suicide. Okay, in that case, I say there is no heaven. Just a nice long sleep.
There was a girl at school – Sara - who hung herself. I don't like to think about it; but what's important is that as she was hanging in her bedroom, she scrawled an unfinished ‘It doesn’t hurt as’ on the wall, carving it right into the wood as she died.
It was a sickening detail, but at the moment it gives me solace that maybe this won’t be a completely horrible way to die. Maybe it will even be bearable.
Tears are rolling down my face now. Thinking about all of this is extremely stressful. Maybe I shouldn’t think about it. Maybe I should just do it, and think of all my regrets later.
Actually, aside from my biggest regret of not appreciating my life as much as I should have, my next biggest is that I’ll never be able to give Trixie her comeuppance… never be able to exact my revenge.
The thought of Trixie is unbearable. I don’t want to see her again. I should just jump before she arrives, before I have to see her face again.
I wipe the tears from my eyes. I want to die with a smidge of dignity. If there's a single thing I have left to my name, it must be that, and the only way to retain my dignity is to die on my own terms.
I can’t believe it. I’m going to do it. I’ve actually managed to talk myself into doing this.
I need to stop thinking. If I keep thinking, I’ll start to rationalize, and then I won’t have the nerve to go through with it.
‘Just do it!’ My mind screams at me, and I’m all too happy to comply.
“Fuck you, Trixie.” I blurt out, before leaning out over the tipping point.
***
Trixie sighed contently.
She was sitting in Sugarcube Corner, enjoying a pair of delicious cupcakes and a glass of fresh apple juice.
To think that over the last three weeks she had gone from scrounging through garbage at least once a week to living it up and spending big was amazing. If she hadn’t captured that human, then she could have starved to death by now.
Trixie lifted one of the cupcakes in her magical aura and took a dainty bite, leaning back in her chair and giving a small smile.
This had been a fruitful endeavour – if a little harmful to a certain human. Although, Trixie hadn’t beaten him in at least a week… maybe longer. Given time, he might come to enjoy what he was doing, instead of resenting her.
She couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. She wasn’t exactly feeding her accomplice properly, although when his new low-movement lifestyle was coupled with a spell that slowed his metabolism, he barely needed feeding anyway, as far as Trixie could tell.
“Hello!”
Trixie was snapped out of her reverie by the sweet little voice of a young grey unicorn filly, who had wandered over from where she and presumably her sister were sitting.
“Hmm?” Trixie stopped leaning back, placing her cupcake back on its plate as she looked down at the unicorn. “Why hello there, little filly.”
“I really liked the show.” The grey filly smiled. “I wish that I could tame humans like you do.”
Trixie smiled gently, a small amount of unease leaking through. One human in this world was enough. “Well, it’s nice to meet a fan, but Trixie advises against trying to tame humans. They are very dangerous creatures, and are not to be trifled with, little…”
“Sweetie Belle.” The grey filly’s smile widened.
“Well, little Sweetie Belle.” Trixie picked up her cupcake again. “Trixie wouldn’t go getting caught up in human taming if she was you. Even she finds it difficult.”
“Oh…” Sweetie Belle’s grin disappeared, and Trixie felt a twinge of sadness before the smile returned. “Well, can you tell the Piano Man that I really like his performance?”
“Well, Trixie will tell him…” Trixie smiled sadly. “But we both know he won’t understand.”
“Yeah, I know, but can you tell him anyway?” Sweetie Belle pleaded, her eyes large and innocent.
Trixie gave a little laugh, and patted the filly on her head. “Of course, now run along. Trixie needs to finish eating so that she can get back to her wagon.”
“Speakin' of yer wagon…” A familiar looking peach coloured earth pony near the door piped up. “There’s some mighty strange sounds comin’ from it, an’ they don’t sound very good.”
“Oh.” Trixie’s face blanched. “Don’t they?” She stood up, immediately wondering what the human could be up to.
She dropped a few bits on the table. “Everypony stay away from Trixie’s wagon. It may be dangerous.”
Without waiting for a response, Trixie galloped out of Sugarcube Corner. Whatever was happening, it couldn’t possibly be good.
***
It was too much to hope that I could hit the right angle to snap my neck. Of course it was. Why would Murphy’s Law grant me otherwise?
The cable goes taught, and my legs jerk to a stop beneath me.
Sara lied. The pain is unbearable. How did this not decapitate me?
My legs flail around uselessly as my vision blurs from the pain. This was a terrible idea. I don’t want to do this. Living is a much better alternative to this.
I let out a choked rasp, trying to reach up and grasp the roof-bars of the cage so that I can stop the pain. I can’t do this. I can’t!
My throat is gurgling, and my lungs are burning as the carbon dioxide builds up. A few more seconds and I’ll succumb to the poisoning. After that, it will only be a minute or so until I die.
I let out a hoarse – but extremely weak – scream, somehow managing to push it out of my constricted throat. I can scream, but for some reason I can’t breath. How long has it been? Forty seconds. I can’t keep going. I’m blacking out.
What do I want? I’m so close to passing out. I should just give up and let it happen. It’s what I wanted, and it’s what I’m getting.
My vision is fading. All I can think of is the fact that I’ve finally beaten Trixie. She said I would never escape. Well, I’m about to.
Suddenly, my haze is interrupted by the sound of a door slamming, and a loud “NO!”
‘No… Trixie… just let… let me die…’ My barely functioning mind manages to cobble the words together from a process of thoughts that I can barely make sense of. It’s a pointless activity anyway. There’s no way I can talk at the moment.
I start to jerk my legs again, making more choked noises as a sudden burst of adrenaline brings me a little further back from the edge of unconsciousness, and a flash of magenta lights up my dim vision.
Suddenly, the pressure around my neck is released, and I drop to the floor, my legs giving out instantly. My head collides with the floor as I flop to the ground, and I fall once more into the welcome nothingness of unconsciousness.
***
Trixie watched in horror as the human fell from his noose, collapsing face first on the ground. Thank Celestia she had got there in time. A minute more and he would have been dead.
Trixie slumped against the wall, her face weary.
“How did it come to this?” She whispered to herself, glancing back at the door into the wagon.
How had it come to this? Trixie never expected the human to try and kill itself.
She hadn’t beaten it since its first escape attempt. In fact, the worst she’d done since then was striking the human when it had been uncooperative. Striking was different to full-blown beatings. She knew that.
She looked down at the form in front of her. Its neck was circled with a neat ring of black from where the piano-wire had bruised it.
Her horn lit up, and the bruise was quickly erased. The ease with which she could manipulate the human was astounding… in fact that may be one of the reasons it had done this.
Trixie unfastened the noose from the ceiling, using her magic to rip into four lengths of wire, before using each one to bind the human’s limbs to the side of the cage.
With the Piano Man now immobile Trixie was able to step outside. She needed some air. And a drink. What she found, however, was entirely different.
Trixie closed the door to the wagon, and turned around to wave away the few ponies that had been waiting for her to return from a respectable distance.
However, one of them started walking towards her. The lavender one that the human had named Twilight… the one that had humiliated her back when she had last come to Ponyville.
“It’s… Twilight, isn’t it?” Trixie asked cautiously as the lavender mare approached. “Your assistance will not be necessary. The situation is under control.”
“Twilight Sparkle, and I’m sure it is, Trixie.” Twilight smiled softly, before producing a scroll from one of her saddlebags. “Actually, I’m just here to deliver a letter.”
“A letter?” Trixie raised an eyebrow, shifting slightly to make sure that she was blocking entrance to her wagon. “For me?”
“Yes!” The lavender unicorn replied cheerily, passing the roll or paper to Trixie. “I received this from Canterlot. It has the royal seal.”
“Thank you, Miss Sparkle.” Trixie took the scroll in her own aura, and unfurled it. She simply wanted the mare to leave so that she could gather her thoughts and think out her next move.
What was on the paper, however, changed that plan entirely.
- - - - -
To the beast-tamer; Trixie Lulamoon, known by the stage name ‘The Great and Powerful Trixie’.
Your presence is requested at Canterlot, to discuss arrangements for the piano playing human known as ‘The Piano Man’ to provide entertainment at the upcoming Grand Galloping Gala. Accommodation and living expenses will be provided for by the state.
So here we are. All caught up. With that in mind, I suppose it’s time to fill in what happened afterwards.
Well, waking up tethered to the side of the cage was very stressful. I’ll admit that I freaked out – considerably so, complete with thrashing and screaming. My wrists still haven’t really recovered from the wire cutting into them.
Trixie didn’t show her face for a good two days. Smart move. I was ready to rip my own arm off and use it to beat her to death.
I have been denied my last freedom, and she will never give me another opportunity to end it. To that effect, the piano is now located outside of my cage, well out of reach.
My neck throbs slightly, but Trixie’s removed the bruising and healed the damage to my trachea and the surrounding area. I suppose that if I have to keep living, at least I don’t have to put up with the pain either.
So all I could do for what felt like nearly 24 hours was lie in an odd position against the bars of the cage. When Trixie finally decided to grace me with her presence, the news she carried was more than a little startling.
We’re in Canterlot. Canterlot. More than that, we are actually in the royal palace. As it turns out, I was unconscious for close to a day, and left alone for a further day after that. In that time, Trixie moved us all the way to Canterlot.
The real shocker though, was finding out that we had been contracted by Celestia and Luna – for me to play an actual concert at the Grand Galloping Gala. I’m not providing ambient music for the guests; I’m playing a full fledged concert in the Royal Theatre Hall.
I would have killed for a chance like this on earth. Now I’m being forced into it, less than four days after I tried to ‘off myself’. Bravo, Trixie. How very inappropriate.
Honestly, I had no idea that the Grand Galloping Gala was coming up. I would have imagined that it should have taken place around the time of the Canterlot wedding episodes, same time as the year before it – that’s assuming that the Equestrian year functions the same as the world that created it.
On the topic of Earth and its relation to Equestria: I have no idea how that works anymore. Is Equestria the result of some alternate universe that came into existence when the show was created, or did Faust just get magical glimpses of it as ‘inspiration’? Honestly, I have no idea what to think any more.
I can hear Trixie coming. I think the wagon is in a chamber under the castle, or something, because I can hear Trixie coming a good fifteen seconds before she arrives. Hoofsteps sound so different to footsteps. They’re much louder, more chaotic, and much faster.
I miss hearing normal, standard footsteps. I miss a lot of things.
I twist my head around as Trixie opens the door to the wagon, tentatively stepping inside.
“What?” The venom in my tone produces a notable – and extremely satisfying – reaction from the mare, as she lowers her head slightly at the comment. I may not have managed to die, but it looks like some good came of my efforts. If only it had instilled enough guilt in this bitch for her to let me go.
Trixie composes herself, once more adopting her mask of indifference, which now seems laughable. I know she feels guilty, and I know she’s no longer comfortable with all this. Acting indifferent is the most redundant thing I’ve ever seen.
“The Gala starts in less than a day, and you will be performing.”
“Of course I will.” My voice is layered with loathing and hatred. “I don’t exactly have a say in what goes on lately. Did you notice?”
Trixie’s mask of indifference morphs into a frown. “You seem awfully active for one who recently attempted to take their own life.”
“You’re the one forcing me to live.” I spit back. “So why not enjoy it?” I layer the ‘enjoy’ with enough sarcasm for every ‘Condescending Wonka’ image ever created.
Trixie shakes her head. “Your situation could be much worse.”
“Of course it could. It could also be a lot better. Now why don’t you fuck off and let me prepare?”
Trixie shakes her head, this time more in disbelief. Maybe she’s having a nice little epiphany on how badly she’s treated me.
Oh, right. That will never happen, because that would require luck.
To my surprise, Trixie turns and leaves without a comeback, which is more than I ever expected. I can’t say that’s progress, because the goal that it would be progressing to is unreachable.
I can’t help but chuckle. This new Trixie is so different. I’ll have to ‘enjoy’ it while it lasts. I’m sure the surprise of finding me hanging from the roof will wear off soon, and then she’ll be back to… normal.
Ugh. There’s no such thing as normal any more. Not in a world of ponies.
***
Trixie has her game-face on when she comes back some time later. She's using the works, harsh voice and all.
I myself managed to get some sleep. I don’t feel overly refreshed – what with the restraints and all - but it’s better than nothing.
Trixie silently undoes the lengths of cable securing me to the cage bars, using her magic to make me stand.
I keep my eyes off of her as she herds me out of the cage, she herself only deigning to state a stout “It’s time.”
“Yeah. Of course it is.” I mutter back. “How long do I need to play?”
“An hour. And keep it interesting.” She commands, opening the door of the wagon ahead of me.
I was right about the wagon being in some sort of chamber. It looks to me like some sort of enclosed courtyard, with an arched glass roof. The idea that the princesses would set this aside solely for Trixie’s wagon is astounding. The wagon could have gone anywhere – unless for some reason it needs to be here.
Trixie takes point, leading me towards a small side-door in the courtyard, which opens onto an equally small side corridor.
We both remain silent as we follow the length of the corridor, which leads out into the backstage area of the Theatre Hall – which is somehow deserted, despite the fact that the show is going to start.
Before I have time to wonder why, Trixie ushers me out onto the main stage.
The stage itself is large - Extremely large, as to accommodate for the yearly performances by major theatre groups – and empty, save for one stark white grand piano sitting in the centre, positioned slightly forward so that the front rows of the audience wouldn't have their view obstructed by the lip of the stage.
Oh wow, a grand piano. Finally, after all this time, I finally get to play one. How wonderful. To think that a few days ago, I was constantly noting its absence from my performances.
Trixie seats me at the piano, which is impeccable and immaculate. Not a single blemish to be seen on its pearly cladding.
“The curtain is going up in three minutes.” She explains in a hushed tone. “Wait for the spotlight to come on, and then you play.”
“I’ve done this enough to know the process.” I mutter back “Let’s just get this over with so that I can go back to huddling in the corner.”
Trixie nods and walks away, leaving me to sit on the stage. Have we reached some sort of agreement? Unlikely. I'm just not being rational.
She heads backstage, to be met by a pair of stout and proper-looking unicorns, who immediately begin talking rapidly to her as they fall into step. It looks like the backstage crew have finally shown up, a whole two and a half minutes before curtain.
The muffled sounds of the audience engaging in idle chitchat drift through the thick curtains. I can’t imagine how many ponies there are in the audience. Hundreds? Surely not a full thousand.
The Princesses will be there – probably the Mane Six to boot. I could probably spot a few background ponies in the crowd as well, but by this point, I think I’m beyond playing a game of ‘Where’s Derpy?’. It's far too trivial for my situation.
The backstage lights dim, and the curtains slowly and silently slide open. I can understand the effect it creates. With the house-lights shining in the right direction, the opening of the curtains will be unnoticeable. Quite a melodramatic way to start out. Either way, I have a small amount of time before the house-lights shut off, and I do indeed use it to scan the audience.
There is a lot of them. I’d say close to six hundred ponies out there in the audience, packing the theatre full. It’s impossible to discern recognizable ponies from the sea of equines that rolls backwards and upwards like some multicolored quilt, so I instead turn my attention to the private boxes.
I can immediately spot Fancypants and Fleur De Lis, Prince Blueblood – all on his lonesome – and Hoity Toity with Photo Finish (An unexpected token pairing, I must say), all with their own private boxes on the left side of the theatre, but none of them are the ponies that I’m looking for.
I cast my eyes further towards the centre, searching for – oh, there they are.
One of the boxes is notably bigger than the others, positioned in the centre of the back wall. From my position, I have a perfect view inside.
They’re all there, Celestia, Luna, Cadance, Shining Armour, and the Mane Six, chatting merrily while they wait for the show to start. What a wonderful turnout.
I scowl and shake my head, looking back down at the piano. Maybe Trixie will let me take a break after the Gala – or she might make me start working double. Probably the later.
The houselights finally dim, throwing the entire theatre into darkness.
After a few seconds, the chatter fully dies down, and the spotlight comes on, illuminating me in a brilliant and dramatic shaft. Less than a second later I feel Trixie’s presence in my mind, giving the usual command.
It’s time to start.
I don’t need to say that this is my first major concert, so I want to start out with a hard and attention grabbing piece.
With that in mind, I reach down the keys, and begin the rabidly fast piece by Nobuo Uematsu, ’J-E-N-O-V-A’ .
The crowd is silent, captivated by the sheer number of notes that a crowding the air, while I stare at the keys, my forehead creased in a scowl of concentration.
I can’t really put into words how I feel right now. The song is such an intense one... it feels like an outlet for my pent-up rage, although I don’t suppose that’s accurate. It would take a lot to exorcise all of the rage I’ve been dealing with.
By the time the hour is drawing to a close, I find myself struggling to think of a final piece.
I’m chewing up The Pirates of the Caribbean Theme, when I remember that Cadance is in the audience. She’s come to watch me slave away, so why not give her a little treat?
So I finish up the theme, and with that thought in mind start to gracefully work my way through This Day Aria. Maybe if I get lucky I’ll give her a heart attack.
As always, I play. I continue the piece through to the end, and then sit back, giving a tiny sigh as Trixie’s presence stops its constant application of pressure to my brain.
The house lights slowly come back on as my spotlight drastically drops in intensity, giving me the perfect opportunity to view the product of my handiwork.
I turn my head slowly and look out over the audience, feeling vaguely pleased and resentful as the audience starts to clap and stomp generously, their comments on my evolution made all the more irritating by their upper-class Canterlot accents.
Deciding to ignore them all – As I have realized is the best way to not fly into a rage at the entire situation – I cast my eyes up to the Royal Box, receiving the extremely pleasing image of both Twilight and Cadance staring down at me in shock.
My mouth twitches in the beginnings of an evil smile, but my sliver of happiness is cut off by the curtain, and the approach of Trixie.
“You shouldn’t have finished so softly.” The mare frowns at me as she forces me to my feet.
“Well, they seemed impressed.” I snap back. “And you can hardly call the third verse soft.”
Trixie’s frown degrades into a scowl as we start walking, and I can tell that I’m really starting to push her buttons. Now would be a good time to shut up, before I use up what little of her reluctance.
She continues to talk as we leave the stage – and I note that the backstage area is once again deserted.
“You’re going to wait in the cage. I have a lot of important ponies to talk to.”
“Fun-fun-fun.” I mutter as we emerge back into the courtyard. “God forbid that they’d want to talk to the actual musician.”
Trixie ignores my comment, herding me into the wagon and then the cage.
“You spend most of your time doing nothing.” She snipes at me. “I’m sure you can bear waiting for a little while.”
I have no retort, and simply lie down on my mattress, hoping that Trixie won’t tie me up again.
It is to my relief that she doesn’t, and simply leaves, slamming the door behind her.
I look across at where I had been bound to the side of the cage, noting that the four lengths of piano wire are still there. Not big enough to hang myself, but still long enough to strangle a certain pony.
Of course, I would never be able to manage that. The moment I tried Trixie would just seize control of my mind... possibly beat me...
I give a little sigh, looking down at my wrists. They’re bruised from my thrashing when I first freaked out over my restraints – I think they were even cut by the wire in a few spots. I wonder if anypony in the audience noticed.
A quiet curse escapes my mouth as I stand up, looking around the wagon. Why hasn’t Trixie ever increased the lighting in here? I still have to be in this crappy little pool of light, leaving the perimeter and far end of the wagon in darkness. What effect is that meant to have? Because it's not having any - save irritation.
I scuff at the floor. I suppose this is the height of my ‘career’. After this, I’ll probably be back to roving shows, and from there my popularity could simply decline. What will happen if it comes to that? Will Trixie just put me down? She’s been so unpredictable this whole time, I can’t really say that I know what she’d do.
My vague musings are suddenly interrupted by the sound of hoofsteps, announcing Trixie's return.
‘She’s back so soon?’ I turn around, fixing the darkened doorway with a steely glare as it opens – before I pause.
It isn’t Trixie.
Three shapes emerge from the darkness, each one approaching the little circle of light. I should have been able to tell that. The hoofsteps had been far too chaotic to have been caused by one pony.
“Wha…” I mutter under my breath, my angry stare faltering in confusion. I haven’t talked with a single pony but Trixie since I got here.
Twilight Sparkle, Rarity and Princess Cadance step into the light, and I take a short breath.
“Wow.” Twilight glances at Cadance. “This is… It lives like this?”
“I have to say, it looks dreadful.” Rarity interjects, looking me up and down. “Look at those marks on the end of its arms!”
Cadance steps closer, peering at me. “I think Trixie has been abusing it…” She takes in my crooked nose, my wrists and my general malnourishment. “…Badly... but before we go tell the princesses, I want to find out how it knows… the song…” She looks me in the eye, clearly concerned and worried - although I think it's more over what I know than my condition.
While they continue to talk, I myself am rapidly boiling over. Every single time the word ‘It’ pops up, my fuse shortens by a considerable fraction more. It’s just wasting away to an inevitable detonation that threatens to strip the meat from these bitches' bones.
Rarity takes a closer look. “It doesn’t seem that dangerous… quite fragile, in fact.”
“Yeah.” Twilight joins the other two in their close examination of me. “It-”
My temper reaches breaking point, and I bound over to the bars, grasping them and shoving my face towards the three mares.
“IS THAT ALL I AM TO YOU?!” I scream. “A THING?!”
The rage has reached a peak I never thought possible. To think that these three could watch me play as a slave, and then have the nerve to come find me, and talk like I’m not even here. Isn’t my situation enough?
“Well FUCK you all!” I shout at the startled mares. “I didn’t ask for this! You are all monsters for what you've done to me! MONSTERS!”
My rage subsides, capped as I manage to not go off on a full-blown rant about the injustices I had been subjected to – or, to be more accurate, I don’t have a suitable sentence to continue my tirade.
I instead resort to turning my knuckles bone white as they grip the cage's bars, and glaring venomously at the my visitors, all of which are staring at me with looks of sheer horror.
The silence lasts for a further five seconds, before Twilight takes a step closer, her expression one of mortification.
“You can talk?!”
What did she just say? Did she just accuse me of being an animal?!
“OF COURSE I CAN FUCKING…” I trail off as what the lavender mare has said properly registers. “Of course… I…”
Did Twilight just accuse me of being and animal?
I fall silent, my rage flowing away as if someone has opened a floodgate in the back of my skull, and my face morphing into an expression of horror and disbelief that puts the other three to shame.
I stare at Twilight, my mouth forming countless silent obscenities as countless waves of crippling realisation wash over me.
I finally manage to open my mouth, voicing what is undoubtedly the general opinion in the room.
Secondary Author's Note for republishing in comments.
- - -
My legs feel weak. I’m sure that if I don’t sit down soon they’ll fall out from underneath me.
Regardless, I continue to stand, bracing myself against the wall of the cage as me and the three mares trade horrified expressions.
My hands are bone white, clenched so tightly around the bars of my cage that I'm in danger of hurting myself, and my mind is a blur as I rapidly sift through my memories and the facts.
The worst part is how well it explains everything - All the ponies talking about me objectively. The empty backstage. Trixie not allowing me to talk to the audiences.
All this time, she’s been masquerading me as some sort of non-sentient creature. Some sort of animal.
And that is where things stop making sense. How could this have worked? I was playing a piano. Animals can’t play instruments. It takes a level of focus and the ultra-fine motor skills only available to intelligent creatures.
I’m in no state to properly crunch the facts here. There are so many thoughts cluttering up my mind that I’m afraid my brain is about to suffer from a Blue Screen of Death.
With my mind still grinding away at this shocking revelation, my mouth manages to flop open, my next question rolling of my tongue with as much grace as an invalid performing a ballet.
“Nobody knew? You’re telling me that all this time nobody knew what she was doing to me?”
Twilight’s ears droop in a heart-wrenching display of sorrow and sympathy. “I… I can’t believe it either. You can talk!”
“Yes.” My throat feels tight. “All of the… all of the pain… I could have stopped it… I…”
Cadance looks like she’s about to faint. Of course; she’s sensitive to emotions, so the stuff I’m emanating must make her want to be sick.
“What… What pain?” She asks tentatively.
“My nose…” I cross my eyes to stare at the crooked appendage, feeling the first pricks of tears in my eyes. “And… and…”
I can’t bring myself to say it, but the hand now clutching at my hair seems to convey to general message of ‘She did something horrible’.
The tears are flowing freely now, although the reason for why is something I cannot fathom. Am I happy that this is all finally over, or am I crying over the needless hardships I suffered?
I wish I knew.
“God… If she hadn’t stopped me…” I whimper. “Then I wouldn’t… I’d be…”
“Stop you from what, darling?” Rarity’s eyes are so full of concern, I can hardly bear it. So many days full of nothing but scorn and hatred, and now I have these three mares here, each one of them conveying nothing short of complete and utter sympathy.
“From… from…” There’s no dignity in saying this, or the amount of water on my face. Looks like I’ve finally lost that as well – although it’s a small price to pay for freedom.
“From…” I drag it out for a third time, unwilling to admit that I had given up, while the three mares all press closer to the cage. I’m sure that they’ve already realised what I’m referring to.
“…Hanging…” I tighten my grip on my hair. “…myself...” The words come out in a choked whisper, but even so all three of the mares visibly recoil at my admission. “I just… I… I c-couldn’t take it any more. The pain… the…”
It feels wonderful to tell this story. To know that these three ponies now know what Trixie has done to me.
Rarity finally puts a stop to the pain of reliving the last three weeks as she stops me.
“It’s okay, dear. She can’t hurt you anymore.”
Oh wow. She just used that line.
“We’ll get you out of here, then we’ll go and find the princess… and then…” The white unicorn looked over at Twilight and Cadance who were both looking equally ‘happy’ at what was to come. “And then Trixie will get her punishment.”
It’s too much for me. The pain of reliving the last three weeks, and the shock of a hope I had given up on coming to fruition.
I collapse to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Less than five minutes ago I was fully prepared to die. I wouldn’t have cared in the slightest – In fact, I would have been happy. Now… all I can think of is getting away.
The three ponies refrain from talking to me while I go through my break-down. I can’t listen properly over my sobs of joy and grief, but the general gist seems to be that they are talking about what Trixie did to make me suicidal. The amount of times I catch the words ‘awful’, ‘sorry’ and ‘justice’ is heart warming.
Eventually, my sobs die down, and I finally look up at the three.
“You…” I give a small hiccup. “Have no idea how much… What this changes… I…”
“You don’t need to tell us.” Cadance replies softly. Of course I don’t need to explain it to the alicorn that can feel emotions.
“Well, not to you.” I mumble, slowly standing up and rubbing at my eyes. “Please, get me out of here, before that monster comes back.”
“Right.” Twilight’s horn lights up, and her aura encircles the cage door, thrusting it open.
I grin weakly. I never thought I’d see the day when that door was just… open, with no-one forcing me to walk through it.
I look to Twilight, trying to convey exactly how grateful I am with one expression.
Realizing that such a feat would be beyond Celestia herself, I open my mouth to speak when everything goes wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.
I watch in shock as Trixie emerges from the shadows behind Twilight, Rarity and Cadance, her eyes wild with rage and disbelief.
My very first thought is ‘How did she sneak up on us?’, followed quickly by ‘Why did she sneak up on us? How could she possibly know that they were in here?'
I quickly search my memory, and almost immediately realize that my saviours never closed the door to the wagon. Trixie could have – must have, actually – heard our exchange at a distance, and then crept up on us.
I want to scream. I want to shout, and point her out to the others, and yet I cannot. Trixie has already seized control of my mind, filling it with a presence that writhes with rage and unbridled hatred. Her horn is surrounded by its aura, the dull ambient light going unnoticed by the three mares.
My eyes widen as she sneers at me, before pointing her hoof at The three mares and me in turn, and then drawing the same hoof across her throat as her horn starts to grow brighter.
No, she wouldn't. Not the princess!
She would, and she does.
I watch in horror as Trixie takes a step forward, lifting one hoof and bringing it down on Cadance’s head. The Princess drops to the ground instantly, clearly out cold.
While this is going on, Twilight and Rarity are busy staring at me. My wide-eyed stare has them unnerved. They only turn - hopefully realizing what is happening in the process – when they hear the thud of Cadance's collapse.
Twilight’s horn lights up, but Trixie’s charging has already reached its zenith, with the entire length of her horn crackling with energy.
Too much energy. It looks dangerous – scratch that; it looks frightening.
The tip of her horn flashes white, blinding me - and presumably the others - with its intensity.
I lean against the bars of the cage as the white glare fades away, only to find that nothing has changed. Twilight and Rarity seem similarly confused, but they quickly place their attention on Trixie, who is snarling at the pair.
“You shouldn’t have come here!” The blue unicorn shouts, her face contorted into a mask of rage. “You should have stayed away!”
Ignoring Trixie’s cries, Twilight charges her horn again, filling the wagon with light.
Everything will be fine. Twilight is a much better magician than Trixie, and the monster's spell did nothing.
I let out a little sigh of relief at the thought as Twilight and Rarity make their advance towards the offending mare. Nothing has changed. In fact, now there’s more evidence against my tormentor.
"Trixie." Twilight speaks in a low and angry voice that I have never heard her use. "Give yourself up. Face justice."
In the tension of the scene, the corniness of the different lines flying through the air is almost lost on me. Almost.
Suddenly, the entire wagon heaves, its boards adopting a strange blue-purple hue as the front end rises into the air, putting a sharp tilt on the floor.
It happens in slow motion – whether or not that’s the spell or just my perception, I have no idea.
Twilight and Rarity both slip immediately, falling straight against the bars of my prison, while Cadance’s unconscious form drops through the open door of the cage.
I myself collapse against the step angle, before sliding feet-first to the far end of the cage, giving out a loud shout as the incline becomes steeper. I have no idea what has happened to Trixie, but she definitely hasn't joined everyone else in our respective falls.
The incline is almost vertical now, which means that I am once again standing – now against the bars of my cage. This is horrifying. Can Twilight still beat Trixie? Surely the wagon isn’t going to-
It is. It's starting to continue its arc, and once gravity kicks in...
It is to my relief that I see Twilight's horn flare, producing a magical aura that encircles close to half of the wooden planks that make up the wagon.
It is to my horror that I realize that it isn't enough. The other boards aren't surrounded by Trixie's aura, they are imbued with it. Whatever spell she cast, it’s not a normal one.
The wagon stops the arc that would bring it down on its roof, but now there is a new problem.
The planks are fighting each other. They're all trying to move, but close to half are being stopped by Twilight, with a further few being stopped by Rarity. Different parts of the wagon are literally fighting against the others to move, and the entire thing is producing a myriad of frightening groans.
It doesn’t take long for the eventual escalation of what is happening to occur. All I can do Is brace myself as the groans transform into the ruckus of splintering wood.
The noise berates my ears as I shield my head, and I shut my eyes while the wagon proceeds to tear itself apart.
***
My vision is fuzzy – an experience I have had to go through far too many times over the last three weeks - although I can hear just fine.
Somebody nearby is groaning. Beyond that I can hear a lot of angry grunting, and some odd ‘magical’ sounds like tinkling wind chimes and electrical discharges. I only hear enough discharges for one unicorn, not two.
I shake my head, bringing everything into focus, which reveals a splintered beam hanging just over my head.
The cage has been ripped apart, with individual bars strewn everywhere, some of them bent, others completely snapped. The wagon itself has been demolished, spreading the area around me with wood fragments and splintered planks.
I sit up, and look around. It didn’t take long for things to go wrong. Fuck you Murphy.
Fuck. You.
Twilight is lying next to me, clearly unconscious. She looks like she’s been hit by a train – although what’s actually happened is too far off.
I don’t see Rarity or Cadance, although from the sound of things I’d say one of them is either attacking or being attacked by Trixie – probably Rarity, and hopefully it is her magic I hear.
To be honest, I have no idea how powerful Trixie is compared to other unicorns. She could never beat Twilight, but what about Cadance or Rarity? Rarity was already shown up by her once in Boast Busters, and I don’t know how powerful the likely unconscious Cadance is when it comes to ‘normal’ magic.
I struggle to my feet, completely disorientated.
This is my chance. I can get my revenge on Trixie. I’m free, and she’s busy.
Bending down, I pick up one of the snapped bars of the cage.
I savour the weight in my hands. A few good strikes with this… and…
Pausing, I stoop down again and grab another item from the floor.
It’s one of the lengths of piano-wire that Trixie used to bind me. Like I said: Useless for suicide, perfect as a garrote. I'll probably never get the chance to use it, but I feel better with it in my hand.
The sounds of what can best be analogised as a magical beating have ceased, and I can hear the sound of Rarity moaning. The idea that Trixie would hurt these three mares… it brings my rage bubbling back – and I’m ready to act on it.
I straighten up and look around at the mess. It’s like a hurricane blew through, ripping the wagon to shreds. That spell Trixie cast, just what was it that could resist Twilight?
Trixie is speaking to her foe, her voice distraught and strained.
“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt another pony. This should never have happened!”
I take a tentative step towards her voice, taking a second to check that my legs aren’t injured before suddenly bounding forwards.
It’s time for retribution.
I step out of the centre of the wreckage, grasping the metal bar firmly in my hand.
Trixie has her ‘back’ to me, facing the crumpled white unicorn that lies sprawled on the ground. Perfect - not for Rarity, of course, but that doesn't matter anymore. Right now, all that matters is my revenge.
“You bitch.” I hiss before tightening my grip on the metal bar and swinging, only to have my arm come to a standstill.
I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have just done it. Stupid, stupid melodramatic me.
Trixie’s magical aura envelops my arm, and lifts me into the air, before dumping me on the ground.
My head is swimming. You would think by now I was used to seeing double, what with how often it’s been happening – and without even the comfort of being drunk. Maybe if I can get through this, I’ll be able to find out what that’s like.
I shake my head, managing to bring everything back into focus just as Trixie finishes approaching me, an expression of rage on her face the likes of which I’ve never seen.
“YOU!!” She screams. “YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!!”
“Trixie…” I cough, slowly standing up. “It’s over. Everyone will figure it out. It’s so obvious.”
“Oh really?” Trixie’s face doesn’t change as she glares at me, even though her voice has dropped to something much closer to her normal speaking tone.
“I disagree! What’s there to figure out? These three foolish mares came to see the dangerous human without my supervision! I can’t be held responsible for what it did. At least I managed to slay it before it could go on a brutal rampage.”
That seems oddly well thought out for something she’s making up on the spot, but like so many other things at the moment, it doesn't matter at the moment.
“Do you really think that’ll work?”
“What do you think everypony will believe? That I managed to kill a princess and Celestia’s protégée, or that the mysterious animal with unknown abilities did it?”
I sway on the spot, slowly lifting the metal bar in my right hand. “You haven’t won ye-”
‘SQUELCH’
My body lurches at the impact, and I look down in shock.
Did she just do that? Did Trixie really just-
She jerks back, violently extricating her horn from my abdomen. It’s slick with my blood.
I stare down at the wound, which is already leaking a generous amount of blood. It hurts like hell, filling me with both a burning and chilling sensation at the same time.
“Yes. I. Have.” Trixie growls back. “You’ve earned this, human.” She turns away, most likely to finish off the three mares.
I look down at my abdomen. Is this a mortal wound? Am I going to die? Does she think that this will kill me right away? It'll take awhile to bleed out - A good three minutes, at least. probably longer, unless she hit something really important. I know that much.
I look back up, lifting the cage bar. I must be in shock. Any normal person would be screaming their head off right now. I'm sure that in any other situation, I would be too.
“And you’ve earned this.”
Trixie starts to turn her head back to me, the rage in her eyes now augmented by a glint of confusion as I swing the cage fragment.
The bar collides with her head – or more accurately, her horn. Right at the base.
And when that happens, two things occur.
Firstly, I drop the bar, my hand jarred by the impact.
Secondly, the air is filled with an ear-splitting crack, and Trixie’s horn shatters. Just like that.
It fragments, throwing shards of the horn in all directions, while Trixie is sent flying for a full two meters.
She skids and then rolls along the ground for a further two meters, screaming in agony as what was her horn is dispersed over the area, while I simply bound after her.
My god. That felt so good. That horn has caused me so much pain – including what may be a mortal wound.
Slowly, I bend over and retrieve the metal bar, before limping over towards Trixie, dropping my length of piano-wire so that I can use my left hand to apply pressure to my wound.
I've won. Trixie’s horn is gone. She can’t do anything. I actually won.
Murphy can kiss, my, ass.
I lift the metal bar above my head as I approach Trixie. The action takes a lot of effort – far more than it should. I must be bleeding out faster than I thought. I need to make this count.
I look down at the blue mare. She no longer looks terrifying. All I can think of is the last three weeks. All the horrors, the contradictions, the beatings. None of them mean anything now. Even the blood seeping around the hand applied to my abdomen is meaningless.
Her eyes flicker open, looking up at me – and have to notice that for the first time there’s no gleam in them… just a dull glassy image. The look of resignation.
“Just make it quick.” She whispers feebly, before closing her eyes again.
Quick is much more than she deserves, but I’m running out of time, so I'll happily oblige.
I lift the bar as high as I can, and bring it down on Trixie’s head.
It strikes with far less force than I would like, although still creating a satisfying crunch.
I have no idea if Trixie is dead or not. I’m having trouble seeing her, and I can’t see if her chest is rising or falling. Her eyes are still closed, though. So at least I did something.
My vision may be fading, but I can still hear, and what I hear is shouting. The closest voice sounds like Twilight, but the more distant ones are foreign. With any luck - and I think I'm due a bit of good luck - they’ll be doctors, because I really need one.
My body even seems to feel a need to emphasize that point, and my legs fold underneath me.
I stare up at the glass ceiling of the courtyard. Does it end here? Am I okay with that? I got what I wanted. My revenge. Trixie’s retribution – more or less. Even if she survives, Twilight will make sure she goes away until the day she dies.
It’s been so long since I’ve smiled – and I mean really smiled. So long since I’ve smiled because I was truly happy. I suppose that makes me feel all the more better as my face is graced with a grin that would make Pinkie proud.
I see Twilight. She’s standing over me – her mouth forming wordless shouts.
Oh look, and there’s Celestia. I’m meeting the princess on what could very well be my death-bed. Amazing.
Impossibly, my smile gets wider as I open my mouth. I can’t hear anything, but that doesn’t stop me from speaking.
“I won.” I don’t hear my words, but the two staring down at me clearly do. “I beat her.”
Twilight renews her shouting. She clearly doesn't know that I can’t hear a word she's saying.
I give a little chuckle as my eyelids start to feel extremely heavy. I suppose it’s time - Or hell, maybe I'm just being overly dramatic.
Feeling more content than I have in years, I allow my eyes to close.
My eyes feel so heavy, and I feel so sleepy - very sleepy.
I feel warm, and pleasant. A little part of me thinks it may be a little too warm, but I’m not really one to get irritated over small things any more.
So sleepy. Not tired, but sleepy. The kind of warm, fuzzy sleepy that you wake up with in the morning. The kind that you want to embrace, and sink back into.
What was my dream? Normally I can remember it when I’ve just woken up, but right now I can’t. Maybe I didn’t dream at all. That’s nice. Most of my dreams lately have involved fire, my head, and Trixie.
‘Trixie.’
The mare’s name echoes through my hazy mind. Why is that happening?
Trixie’s probably going to come in to wake me up soon. Then I’ll have to rub the sleep out my eyes and fix my ‘thin-sleeping-bag-on-the-floor’ head in time for the first show of the day.
“No. No you won’t.”
‘Really? Why not? I’ve been performing two shows a day for… a while.’
“You don’t have a show to play today, or ever again. Remember? The Gala?”
‘The Gala….I played… and everypony cheered, like always… and… I… Oh.’
“Twilight, Rarity, and Cadance. They tried to free you. And then Trixie came.”
‘That’s right… she… wait a minute. She stabbed me.’
“She did. And then you used the bar.”
‘I did… and then… Wait, where am I? Why am I talking with myself?’
“You aren’t. You just need to open your eyes.”
‘I’m sorry?’
“Your eyes. Just open them.”
‘My eyes…’
***
Oh god. They really are heavy. I don’t remember my eyelids being made of lead before the Gala. Did someone surgically remove all my skin and replace it with the metal they make dumbbells out of?
“Ugh…” I mumble, my eyelids twitching. “Eyes…”
“You can open them. It’s easy.” The voice sounds distant, and distorted by a warbling echo.
My eyelids are so heavy. They feel a little lighter than before, but it still seems like an impossible task. The voice keeps talking.
“Take your time. You’ve been through a lot.”
“Ugh… I can feel it…” I mumble. “Trixie…”
“We can talk about Trixie when your eyes are open.”
The voice is male, calm, measured. It speaks in a warm tone, and does so slowly, taking care to properly enunciate each word clearly.
Taking a few seconds to just breathe, I try and focus on what I can feel.
I am warm – which is because I’m in a bed. I am sleepy, because I have just woken up. I smell disinfectant, and can hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor – so I’m definitely in a hospital.
Well then. It’s good to know that I wasn’t left to die – although I have to wonder how ponies would know how to treat a wound on a human.
I need answers. What happened? Was everypony okay? Is Trixie dead?
Mumbling half hearted curses, I finally grit my teeth, and slowly force my eyes open.
The light in the room is dimmed – something I couldn’t be more grateful for. Even so, the small amount of light burns my eyes, making me wince in pain.
Aside from that, I can’t see much. I am indeed in a bed, and there is a computer screen next to me, running on its lowest lighting level, showing my heartbeat.
“Good.” The male voice replies. “I’m going to slowly bring up the lighting. Is that okay?”
“Uh… Yeah…” I cough slightly. I still feel tired – No. Not tired, but weak. It’s understandable, I suppose. For all intents and purposes, I did get shanked.
Ever so slowly, the lighting in the room increases, with the overhead bulb slowly growing from ultra-dim to a more normal level of lighting - still slightly darker than average.
I watch wearily as more shapes come into focus - Medical trays, tubes running into my arms, and finally a blue stallion in a lab-coat.
I’m not sure what I was hoping for. Doctor Stables? The Doctor? Both are from Ponyville.
So instead, I gaze neutrally at this unfamiliar doctor as he slowly walks over to me.
“How are you feeling?”
“Confused.” I speak quietly. I feel so very weak. It’s tiring just to talk. “Am I… in Canterlot?”
“You’re in the Canterlot Private Clinic.” The stallion smiles. “The finest medical institution in Equestria.”
I blink twice. This is a nice change of pace. “That’s… wonderful. And who…” I take a weary breath. “…are you?”
“I am Doctor Maneworthy.” The colt replies. “Princess Celestia’s private physician.”
“Prestigious.” I note. “Good to know… that I’m being taken care of.”
“Yes.” The doctor spoke simply, glancing at my chart on the end of the bed. “I’m so very sorry about what happened. I was in the audience for your Gala show. We had no idea.”
“From what I hear, nopony did.” I mumble. “But it’s over. How long has it been?”
“Four days.” Maneworthy takes a few steps closer to me. “Do you feel well?”
“I feel… Very weak…”
“That’s to be expected. You lost quite a bit of blood, and it took a little while for us to know where to start. We haven’t dealt with human anatomy before.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“You’re lucky that magic isn’t anatomy selective. It heals what it can.”
I look over at my bedside table, already tired of the banter. There’s a book, just sitting there. Its black cover looks slightly battered, and there’s a card attached.
“What’s that?”
“Miss Sparkle delivered it yesterday. She’s down the hall if you want to talk to her.”
“She’s still in the hospital?” I rub my eyes, reaching out and picking up the book. “What happened?”
“Not much, really. She doesn’t exactly need to be here, but she insisted on being close at hand for when you woke up.”
“How nice. Most considerate thing anyone’s done for me all month.” I deadpan, placing the book beside me on the bed and picking up the card.
“Quite a sense of humour for someone who just woke up.” Maneworthy’s smile hasn’t faltered.
“I wasn’t joking.” I reply, feeling slightly satisfied that I’ve finally managed to make him falter in his professional smile. “Can you wait a little while before telling anyone? I could do with... with a moment. Gather my thoughts...”
“Of course.” Maneworthy nods, and turns away. “Everything seems fine for now. I’ll come back in ten minutes. That okay?”
“Yeah.” I mumble half heartedly, closing my eyes briefly while I wait for the doctor to leave. Once he has, I slowly open the card. I feel so frail, and my trembling hands aren’t helping.
The cover of the card has a few wonderfully drawn landscape on it, showing the view of Ponyville from Canterlot. How wonderfully scenic.
The inside of the card has a few images of little flower bushes, all of it very nice, while the empty space is filled with a message.
I take a quick note of the fact that Twilight was sensitive enough not to add a ‘Dear Piano Man’ to the top. Despite that, the entire message seems rather awkward.
‘Celestia would like me to convey her utmost sympathy for what Trixie has done. If you are reading this, then you have most likely met Doctor Maneworthy – Princess Celestia’s personal physician.
The book that this card is attached to is Trixie’s personal journal from the last month. I don’t know if you wish to read it, but I hope you’ll appreciate the option. Please rest up. A room in the Royal Palace is prepared for when you are able to be discharged.’
I give a little sigh as I return the card to the bedside table. Trust Twilight to write a letter that doesn’t convey her personality at all.
I look down at the book. Trixie’s journal. A glimpse into her demented mind. An account of all of the horrors she subjected me to.
Of course I’m going to read it.
The book is ‘cleverly’ disguised, which is to say: It’s some very important journal entries detailing Trixie’s life over the previous month, simply titled as surplus notes. The only reason such a simple trick is clever, is because one would never expect it to be done.
It shows an odd level of paranoia by Trixie, apparently concerning the fear that somepony would read her notes and discover the truth about her show.
The gesture seems pointless. If one were in the position to read any of her journals, they may very well be in the position to read all of them, which means that they would eventually turn their attention to the one that was marked as surplus.
And the writings they would find, would shock and horrify them.
With yet another little sigh, I open the book, and begin reading.
***
The Journal of the Great and Powerful Trixie - Surplus Notes.
DAY ONE:
I have completed my preparations. The spell is ready, and I have the cage set up.
This can turn out in any number of ways. Humans are such an enigma, and this could go so wrong so easily. Any one of these ancient facts could be wrong. Humans could have their own magical spark. They could be brutal and imbued with super-strength.
Of course, I must persevere. I refuse to scrounge in the garbage a single time more. Such an activity is beneath the master race – let alone one with a family like mine.
I’m sure my father would be proud of the feat I am about to accomplish. Humans have not been seen in Equestria in over a millennia. Their return would normally be a time of celebration – two races, separated so long ago, rejoined like a pair of lost twins. It’s poetic in it’s beauty. Of course, such an event will not be happening.
It is time for the summoning. I will record the events of the day soon.
- - -
DAY ONE - ENTRY TWO:
Dear Celestia! The summoning was a success. Equestria has seen its first human in aeons, and I am the only pony who knows it.
The human is everything I hoped for. It seems to fit the facts I based the summoning off almost perfectly.
My initial opinion is one of disdain. With no magical spark, Humans are essentially pawns - and with those hands of theirs they would make perfect slaves for us ponies. Unfortunately, doing that would be the end of me. Nopony would ever accept an intelligent being as a slave.
Oh yes. The human is completely lucid. He even seems to know a little information about Equestria. That scared me immensely, so I took immediate action and ‘sedated’ the human. Of course, I am unable to afford an actual sedative, so I made do with blunt trauma.
I should add that humans are very offensive creatures. I’ve only spoken with this one for a few minutes, and it has already accused me of being a fraud. No fraud could have created the hole between universes that I did, or bodily ripped a life-form from one reality to another.
Once this is all over… when I’m rich and I’ve covered my tracks for this deed, I think I will write a paper on the spell I used. I’ve certainly never heard of it being used before.
I cannot write more at the moment. The human’s slander has me so angry. Such heinous words from a creature so far beneath me… I can already tell that I will hate this thing. It has no magical spark, still thinks itself on the grounds to address a pony in such offensive ways... it's almost nauseating.
But dear sweet Celestia, it will make me rich.
- - -
DAY ONE – ENTRY THREE:
After I managed to calm myself sufficiently, I revived the human, and attempted to explain the situation to him. The fool seemed to have a tough time grasping exactly why he can’t reach out and throttle me, but that needs to be credited to a possible concussion.
Once the human was sufficiently lucid, I had it demonstrate the ability I brought it here for. Needless to say, I am impressed. His skill is something the likes of which I have never seen.
~
I have just returned from my wagon. I’m so furious. I cannot find a way to eloquently put my thoughts down now.
The human tried to escape – and he nearly succeeded. I managed to catch him, and… I did something regrettable as punishment.
There is no way I can properly write this down – and I probably never will. For now, I will suffice with the statement that the human must never escape. If anypony ever learns about this entire thing, or the way I have treated it… I shudder to think of the consequences.
I don't understand why being around the human fills me with so much anger. The manner in which it tries to talk to me is indeed unacceptable for one of its stature, but there's something else about it that just seems to instantly anger me. I must find a way to control myself, before I do something that can't be undone.
- - -
DAY THREE:
I need to control my rage around the human. As much as I would love to gore it on the end of my horn, that would be an incredible waste of time in all this preparation, and I refuse to go back to living on the streets. This is my last chance.
And as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think I could bring myself to kill something sentient. As lowly as this human is, it is still ‘intelligent’. Moral reasons aside, I’m sure such an act is also considered murder – pony or not.
So in order to make sure I do not do something regrettable, I decided to use a few of my last bits to purchase a herb that I was assured would 'moderate' my mood. It worked well for the first performance – which I must add went perfectly, and earned quite a few bits. I believe that my newfound amiability was extremely confusing for the human.
Nevertheless, I am very pleased with the way things are proceeding. The first show was extremely popular. It bodes well for the future.
I'm not sure why I'm writing this journal. It's more evidence against me. I will have to burn it in the future... after I've looked back through it when this is over.
- - -
DAY NINE:
The human once again tried to escape today. It used brute force to overpower me before I could use my magic, and then escaped into the city. A foolish ploy. It seemed to forget that I can move at twice the speed it can.
I chased the human down before it could find another pony and reveal anything, and knocked it unconscious. I have to say, this herb is working wonderfully. It doesn’t work all the time, but I haven’t beaten the human since its first escape attempt – and I didn’t today, either.
Although some of the thoughts I've been having are... concerning. That's something I'll need to watch for.
I believe that today has been a good signal that it is time to move on. The wagon is ready, and I was planning to go mobile by the end of next week. I see no repercussions in doing so sooner rather than later.
The human still disgusts me, but at least I don’t constantly feel an urge to kill it.
- - -
DAY NINETEEN:
I haven’t written anything in ten days. Things were going so perfectly. I’m rolling in the bits, and the human has been most amiable. I had thought he had given up. What I didn’t know was that it had actually given up.
The human tried to hang itself. It nearly succeeded too. If that earth pony hadn’t noticed the sounds coming from my wagon, it would be dead.
I don’t know if this is the herb mellowing me, but I have to say that this day hasn’t been all bad. The human tried to hang itself, and yet the day still has an upside. It has to be the herb.
Anyway: The purple unicorn that showed me up the last time I was in Ponyville (Identified by the Human as ‘Twilight’) delivered a message from Canterlot. The princesses have heard of our show, and have decided to contract for an actual concert at the Grand Galloping Gala. Said contract is also extremely lucrative.
it’s something I've dreamed of since I was a filly – except that I had always hoped it would be me performing.
I’m conflicted. The human is clearly… disturbed. As much as I hate the creature, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. What if it has a breakdown on stage? Everypony will find out what I've been doing.
If I decide to go ahead, I’ll write another entry after the Gala. No matter what, I think that the "Piano Man" has reached the end of its usability. It seems so ironic that I would save the creature from suicide, and then kill it myself a few days later.’
***
The rest of the pages are blank.
I set the book down, and close my eyes, shuddering violently.
Trixie was only a few days from killing me. I managed to escape in the small gap between almost succeeding at suicide, and Trixie putting me down.
“Fuck.” I pick up the book and toss it onto the bedside table. “Just… Fuck.”
There’s no words to describe the plethora of emotions coursing through me. Relief, anger, happiness… There’s so many. I can’t even name them all at the moment.
I need to find out if Trixie is alive or dead.
***
A knock at the door rouses me from my depressed reverie, and I turn my attention to the source.
“Yeah?” My voice comes out pathetically weak, reminding me that I have not come out of my ordeal without some rather heavy physical issues – and I’m sure that I’ll need a lot of therapy.
The door opens, revealing Doctor Maneworthy.
“Are you feeling up for visitors?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” I lift one arm, staring at the tubes leading into it. “But I’ll take some anyway.”
The doctor nods, and steps forward, clearing up the doorway.
Twilight enters first. There’s a cast on one of her hind legs, and she certainly looks worse for wear, but aside from that, she seems to have come out of the ordeal much better-off than me – then again, she didn’t get stabbed.
It’s Applejack next, looking a little sheepish – why, I can’t tell. Then it’s Pinkie. She looks as energetic as ever, but she’s managing to simply jump a little on each step instead of just plain bouncing. Hell, this is a serious meeting.
Rarity looks like she was hurt worse than Twilight, with a bandage on her head and a limp to her walk. Unlike Twilight, the rest of her still looks immaculate, of course. Rarity would never let a little thing like being beaten up get in the way of fabulousness.
Finally, it’s Fluttershy, who’s so hunched over that I can’t even see her face. I don’t see Rainbow or Cadance. Odd.
The five mares fall into a ragged line at the foot of my bed, each one displaying a differing level of unease. I’m not surprised that it’s Twilight who speaks first.
“So… how are you feeling?”
I give her a pleading look, before speaking in my weak little voice. “Miss Sparkle, please. How do you think I feel?”
“I… I don’t know.” Her eyes flop down, obviously confused by my forwardness. “Happy? Sad?”
“Exactly.” I gently massage my left temple. “I’m feeling pretty conflicted.”
“Oh. Of course.” Twilight’s look of confusion morphs into one of sympathetic understanding. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through.”
I look away. “The book paints a vivid enough picture.”
Twilight is quiet for a moment, before speaking softly. “It doesn’t say what the regrettable punishment was.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t.” My voice comes out strained, and my throat tightens. I almost grasp my scalp again, but manage to stop myself and lower my hand back to the bed.
The other mares are still standing there awkwardly. I wonder if they’ll actually say anything.
Twilight wisely leaves the subject, instead moving on to talking about the future.
“Umm… The princesses are planning to visit, if you’re up for it.”
I nod.
“And… well, like my card says… There’s a room set up for you in the palace for when you’re released.”
“Thanks.” I speak slowly, before looking down. This isn’t how I envisaged meeting the Mane Six.
“And… Sorry. I know I’m being difficult.”
“Oh it’s fine, dear.” Rarity finally speaks. “After suffering under that monstrous mare, you’ve earned the right to vent some steam.”
“There’s a lot to vent.” I sigh.
I look at each of the mares in turn. Each one looks extremely concerned – I think. Fluttershy still hasn’t looked at me.
God. I’m experiencing the dream of every Brony on earth, and all I can do is wallow in my misery.
I suppose now it’s time for the hard question.
“What about Trixie? Is she dead?”
The lavender unicorn glances at Applejack who pauses, and then nods.
Here it comes. I already know what they’re going to say.
“Trixie is…” Twilight starts, before faltering.
I let out a little groan, before looking the Mare in the eye. “Just say it.”
“Trixie’s… being held in custody.”
I open my mouth and let out a long, drawn out curse. Fluttershy takes a step back at the sudden expletive, while the other ponies still look sympathetic – except for Pinkie. She’s disappeared.
Twilight approaches and puts a hoof on my shoulder.
“It’s okay.”
I look at her, and then at the other Mares.
"God, I wish it was."
So I suppose I’m in Equestria now. What does that mean, exactly? Am I stuck here? Can I go home? Most importantly; What happens now?
I sigh yet again. I have no idea how many times I’ve done that in the last fifteen minutes.
“Well, we have lot to talk about.” I say to Twilight. “A hell of a lot.”
Celestia sighed as she looked out over Canterlot. The city was beautiful at night, sparkling with the illumination of it's many hundreds of small lights.
This had not been what she’d expected. A development like this occurred once every few hundred years – and she had thought that Discord's return had cleared for the next few centuries. The best example of Gamblers Fallacy one could ever ask for, because then all of… this… happened.
“You are troubled, sister.”
The white Alicorn turned to Luna, giving her a weary look, before turning back to the city without replying. Her sister continued talking.
“Sister, neither of us saw this coming. You mustn’t regret the unavoidable.”
“But it was avoidable, Luna.” Celestia replied softly. “If we had just remembered.”
“Once again, dear Celestia, neither of us remembered.” Her sister attempted to console her. “It was so long ago. You can’t blame yourself for not remembering something that happened when we were fillies.”
“I can, and I will.” Celestia turned away from the balcony, and returned to the empty throne-room. “The human suffered so much, because we weren’t attentive enough. We should have been more watchful.”
“And that is in the past, Tia.” Luna’s voice had grown a hard edge. “You of all ponies should know that Alicorns shouldn’t dwell on the past. Now we must concern ourselves with the future – The human’s future.”
“The future is important – Very important.” Celestia’s voice had also acquired a hard edge. “And of course we should not dwell on the past… but neither should we simply shun it. Shunning the past is what caused so much that has happened – including this.”
“Some parts of the past need to be shunned.” Luna snapped. “Some very, specific, parts, sister.”
Celestia brought up one hoof, and ran it through her mane. She was getting a headache. Of all times for this to come out, why now? She had a tortured human recovering under the care of her private physician. This was not the time to argue over what happened to Luna.
“Luna, this is truly not the time to talk about this. We have a far more pressing matter, and what issues we have….” Celestia turned to look her sister in the eye. “…can be sorted out when we are not dealing with the future of a fellow sentient being.”
Luna’s glare - which had been becoming extremely heated – softened considerably, and she grimaced.
“You’re right, of course. There is a more pressing matter at hoof…” She looked away. “But believe me, dear sister, we will talk about this.”
Celestia nodded. “I promise, dear sister. We will.”
She turned back to the balcony once more, suddenly feeling an insatiable desire to go out and stand in the night air once more.
“We need to make sure everything is seen to. Accommodation, food, all the necessities and as many luxuries as we can provide. We need to set this right, Luna. Trixie must face justice, and the human must be made well.”
“Of course.” Luna joined her sister, and they both looked out over the rather restricted view of Canterlot that standing inside provided. “I am sure Twilight Sparkle will be able to watch over the human until we can get everything in order.”
“I’m sure she can.”
The ruler of the night nodded, and then turned to her sister yet again. “You should rest, Tia. You are of no use to the kingdom if you are unwell.”
Now it was Celestia’s turn to reply with a solemn; “Of course.”, as she turned towards the large double doors of the throne room.
“I will tell Twilight to be as un-invasive as possible, and to give the human space to recover.” She spoke quietly, almost as if it was an afterthought.
Luna watched as her sister walked away. The discovery had shaken them both – and Cadance even more so. The young princess had not left her chambers since the day of the Gala, and her husband had been evasive in his reports of her condition – which was excusable, for now.
The Princess of the Night walked out onto the balcony, taking the place formerly occupied by her sister.
“Sleep, Celestia.” She mumbled sadly. “All will be well. One must simply have a little faith in the goodness of others.”
***
I am seated on my balcony, savouring the cool night air as I look out over the shimmering lights of Canterlot.
Twilight sits next to me. Unlike me, her eyes are not absorbing the wonders of the city. They rest solely on me. Needless to say, it’s slightly disconcerting.
I’m not sure why she’s watching me. Does she think I’ll just stand up and jump over the edge? Because I’m honestly past that now. Now I just want to put this behind me – which will be a difficult task in itself.
I feel a mixture of happiness and guilt at the moment. I’m sitting here, in Canterlot, with the Twilight Sparkle right next to me. I am seriously living out the dream of every Brony in existence.
But that’s also why I feel so terrible. Twilight is sitting next to me, creating the most awkward silence I have ever endured.
It’s my fault, of course. I’ve been so tight-lipped. I haven’t said my name, or my age, or spoken a word about anything except my imprisonment under Trixie.
I suppose you’re wondering why. Honestly, it’s because I’m afraid. I don’t know what’s safe to say, and what isn’t safe to say.
What I definitely don’t want to do is tell them that My Little Pony exists as a show. I’m also worried about saying anything about earth. The consequences could be… severe…
The biggest issue is that I only have one shot at this. If I fuck up, I could ruin everything. I’m not exactly sure how, but I’m sure I’d find a way. Honestly, I have no clue how telling the mare my name could be bad, but for now I’m just going to keep my trap shut until I’ve had some time alone to think.
Twilight coughs quietly. I have no clue if she’s trying to get my attention, but she gets it anyway.
I turn to look at her – and she in turn quickly looks away. All of this is clearly uncomfortable for her. Twilight has so many questions that I know she’s dying to ask. To her credit, she’s showing incredible self-restraint.
“Twilight, I know you have a lot of questions.” I stand up slowly, grasping my walking-stick. It didn’t take long to get one, and now that I have it, I can walk around – no matter how painful such an action is. “And I know you’ve been told not to ask them.”
“Right.” Twilight’s voice is surprised. To her it seems like I’ve just made an amazing guess.
“Well, when I’ve had some time, feel free to ask them. Trust me, I have a lot to tell you… just not right now.” I turn back to the double-doors that lead into my hospital room.
“I under-” The confused lavender mare attempts to speak again, but I cut her off .
“But hold onto that curiosity, please. If you hadn’t followed up on your curiosity, Trixie would have put me down by now, and be off scot-free.” I grimace as Twilight opens the door for me.
“Thanks.” Am I thanking her for the door, or for freeing me? No, just the door. A simple thanks isn’t enough to show my appreciation for being set free.
We re-enter the hospital room, and I hobble back to my bed, letting out a little groan as I sink into the mattress.
We both fall into silence once more, and I smile ever so slightly.
“You can talk now. I won’t interrupt again.”
Twilight raises an eyebrow. My odd mixture of forwardness and secretiveness has her perplexed.
“I have to say, I’m very confused. Are all humans like you?”
“No.” I chuckle half-heartedly. “Humans have very varied personalities. Let me rest, and then I’ll be able to tell you a bit more.”
Twilight perks up, gaining more interest at the promise of information.
We say our goodnights, and she finally leaves me alone with my thoughts.
I sigh and roll over, slowly working my way under the sheets. I’m sure I can tell Twilight a little about human society, as long as it isn’t related to the show.
I wonder what will happen now. What’s going to happen to Trixie? What will happen to me?
Then again, I suppose for now I can just be happy that for the first time in almost a month, I have control over my own life.
For now, anything aside from that is secondary.
I haven’t been awake for that long - Six hours, at the most – and yet I already feel tired. Everything takes a lot more effort while I’m still suffering from this stab wound.
It’s ironic. Now that I can do things other than just sleep and play the piano, all I want to do is sleep. I can’t wait until that stops. I have so much to do here. So very much.
My slight smile remains fixed on my face as a nestle down into my blankets. Unbelievably, I’m already struggling to keep my eyes open.
Equestria. It’s real. It’s here. I’m here.
Getting here was difficult, and extremely painful, but I’m here. And I’m going to try and make the best of it. After all, this is what I always wanted.
