The Filly

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The house Rarity currently resided in was easily among the best she’d known. Ornate wood paneling, two chandeliers overhead providing lovely illumination, a long table with startlingly soft white linens, chairs made of what might have been solid oak, and no less than two marble statues of earth ponies playing a viola and a lyre all decorated the room she was in. The rest of the house was no less ostentatious.

Yet all of it was ignored in favor of one particularly special thing: the roasted asparagus melting in her mouth like butter. It brought forth a most unladylike moan that she would have felt embarrassed about were she not so focused on that beautiful, beautiful song her tastebuds were singing.

The gray mare across the table chuckled at the sound. “I take it you approve?”

“Had I known you were going to spoil me like this I would have come by to visit ages ago,” Rarity replied before shoveling in another forkful of the delectable vegetable. She’d not had properly cooked asparagus since the days she lived in Mooisville. Now that she had it again, she was beginning to recall just how weak her will was against it. Some little fillies had candy, others had baked sweets, but Rarity? She’d been an asparagus fiend. She held up a bronze goblet and raised it to her host. “A thousand thanks for your hospitality, Miss Melody.”

Octavia Melody raised her own glass in turn, her smile small yet earnest. “Of course. It is the least I could do after you got me out of Ponyville. Feel free to stay as long as you like.” Her cheer was somewhat diminished by the two imposing guards standing at the door a few feet behind her, stoic and cool.

Such was the nature of the formerly kidnapped. Octavia’s mother, a middling politician of Manehattan, was taking no chances of her only child being taken a second time. That meant bodyguards all the time. Octavia hadn’t complained to Rarity about it so far, but then, she was probably too polite and genteel to do so while they were standing right there.

After taking a sip of her wine, Octavia asked, “So, did you have anything specific planned for your visit to Manehattan or is this strictly a social call?”

“A little of this, a little of that.” Not wanting to eat all the asparagus in one go, Rarity reluctantly switched over to the roasted beets. They were admittedly delicious, smothered in some sort of pink wine sauce that came with just a hint of cilantro. She’d never had cilantro before. It was certainly an unusual taste. “I had a few deliveries to make, and I also made a promise to a friend.” As an afterthought, “Other than paying you a visit, of course. I may need directions for tomorrow.”

Octavia considered this as she carefully cut her own beets into bite-sized pieces. Curiously, she asked, “Were you planning to visit the Apple Family Manor? It is not far from here, only a few streets over.”

Rarity bit down on her beet with far more force than she intended, her teeth grinding against the fork for a moment before she regained control. She swallowed and pressed a hand against her lips, silently apologizing to her poor incisors. “No,” she replied when it was comfortable to move her jaw again. “That’s not on the agenda.”

“That is probably for the better right now,” her host admitted. “Applejack is out of town on family business. I imagine she would be the one you would want to talk to.”

No, Rarity had no interest in speaking to Applejack. She couldn’t deny that her assistance last year smoothed things out a bit between them, but Rarity was still a sore about the incident which she wished not to think about. Besides, she’d told that mare very clearly that she would have to work long and hard to make things up to her, and she had every intention of maintaining that position for a while yet.

But that was of no concern at the moment. Taking a sip of her iced water, she primly responded, “It does not matter if she is in town or not. My business is with somepony else. A friend wants me to pay a visit to the Arcaenum.”

Octavia frowned around her fork. Slipping it out and swallowing, she replied, “That narrows things down significantly. I am by no means up to date on the affairs of the mages, but I understand that they have been greatly understaffed since even before the prior archmage died.” Her expression turned wary and her tone lowered, as if to convey some secret. “They say she was murdered by her apprentice.”

In the past Rarity might have followed her lead and gone for some gossip. Were she feeling like having a little fun, she might still have. Yet tonight she had little interest in appealing to rumors. “I heard the same thing. I also heard that they never arrested her for the crime. Considering how very important the archmage was to this town, you’d think they’d have the perpetrator in prison if they really knew for sure.”

Pouting a little at being denied her game, Octavia refocused on her meal. “Perhaps, but that does not mean she did not do it. One does not become the personal apprentice to the archmage without having developed certain skills. Who are we to say she did not find a means of magicking away the evidence? Supposedly the mare was poisoned.”

“Supposedly,” Rarity oh-so diplomatically agreed. “Regardless, I am told this ‘Trixie’ may be able to shed some light on an old mystery of a somewhat personal nature, so I’ll be risking a visit.” She rubbed at the necklace beneath her shirt, feeling just a little anxious as she did. An Element of Harmony, Spike had said. Could this Trixie pony really confirm that? She found herself dearly hoping that wouldn’t be the case. There was enough on her plate as it was.

Octavia shrugged. “I will have directions written for you later, but I encourage you to be cautious; I have heard nothing good about the mare.”

That ended the topic, the two discussing more pleasant things as the evening wore on.

The next morning saw Rarity atop Ophelia and riding through the busy streets of Manehattan. To think, as little as five years ago she’d have been giddy with excitement at the very idea of being here. Now that she finally achieved that foalhood dream, she wondered if her naïveté would have blinded her enough to distract from how dirty things were. Octavia’s street had been pleasantly clean, and to be fair the cobblestone roads of this section of the city were far better than the dirt roads of much of the town.

Rarity’s primary assessment of the denser parts of Manehattan was that they were filthy. She was accustomed to being dirty, what with having to regularly travel for weeks on end without the joys of a bath, but this place was ridiculous. Streets filled with ponies and wagons and chariots all jostling for position and kicking up a literal cloud of dust that coated every crack and crevice of every object under three stories in height. Considering the tallest buildings only got to five stories and those only amounted to a dozen or so in the entire city, that meant everything had the visible consistency of grit, and she made it a point to cover her muzzle with a piece of cloth from her stash of sewing materials.

What most bothered her was that she’d been to major cities before. Mooisville. Hoofington. Briefly to Mareami. None of them were like this, and two of them were in significantly hotter and drier conditions. Throw in the fact that Manehattan actually received rain on occasion and she had no idea why the locals let everything get this way, nor how it got so in the first place.

But now she was in what was commonly referred to as the Ink District. Why it was called that she couldn’t guess, but it was helmed by the Arcaenum and featured a lot of magic-centric businesses. Or at least, it used to. As Rarity walked along the ancient road – blessedly made of a brown brick, thank Luna – she passed many an abandoned storefront. She turned her head to observe a worn out sign advertising a ‘magical maladies’ apothecary. The windows were coated in a thick layer of dust. The two-storey building was as rugged and sound as any other, but all the life seemed to have been taken out of it.

Magic, it seemed, was not very profitable in Manehattan these days.

Ophelia let out a faint trill, prompting Rarity to lean forward and rub under the lizard’s frills. “Yes, Darling. I’m feeling a mite curious myself.” A survey of the street showed the area to be quiet. Not deserted, but the half-dozen ponies going about their business was a far cry from the mash of bodies the two of them had endured just a couple blocks away. Yet all the dreariness of the world couldn’t stop her from staring when they turned a corner and laid eyes upon the Arcaenum at last.

The main structure was no more than two storeys tall, and yet it took up an entire block on its own. The external walls curved outwards in the middle, with taller and similarly-shaped walls behind them and yet another behind those. All the walls rose and fell in wavey patterns that mystified Rarity at first. Then she tried to imagine what it might look like from a higher vantage point and realized that the structure may have been designed to resemble a flower in full bloom. An ambitious design, to be certain. She had to wonder what the walls were made from to look so smooth and yet retain any functionality. Still a couple blocks away, Rarity was able to see between the nearby buildings to spot what appeared to be five towers in the middle of the Arcaenum, the middle one smaller and wider than the others.

To say the Arcaenum stood out was an understatement. Even had the buildings around it been brand new and filled with life, they were naught but blocky background elements to the Arcaenum’s grandeur. It would have looked nicer were the plaster not falling off in some spots and grime not built up along its edges, but in a field of thorns it was the prettiest thorn of them all.

The street in front of the Arcaenum was largely empty save for three ponies. One was a serious-looking unicorn wearing the blue buttoned-up coat of a Manehattan Guard. Set at the opening of an alleyway, she was smoking an extract stick and leaning against a dozing brown Dust Devil. The guard watched them pass with an outright rude stare, as if expecting her to be up to something. Rarity idly wondered if she’d been recognized. Silver Lining was on the wrong side for her to see it, but sometimes ponies didn’t need to see the weapon to recognize the Bulletproof Heart. The officer didn’t leave the alley though, so Rarity paid her no more mind than was necessary for the ever-hunted.

What really stoked her curiosity was the filly and stallion headed for the Arcaenum’s front stairs. The filly was a pegasus and couldn’t be more than thirteen. She sported a decidedly odd appearance. Her top was clearly meant to be part of a dress, complete with puffy juliette sleeves and a curve of faux emeralds along the collar. Below that, however, was a pair of tight brown pants that stopped just below the knees. The filly’s mane and tail were a moderate cyrise (Rarity’s inner fashionista nodded with pride at the appropriate color recognition) and her coat a deep orange (then facepalmed and told her, with inimitable disdain, that the word was gamboge). The filly’s little wings buzzed as she took the steps two at a time. “Come on, Dry, stop dragging your feet!”

The stallion following her appeared put out by her youthful energy. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” he groused. One hand was stuffed in the pocket of his jeans while the other held a pink cloth over his shoulder. Rarity belatedly realized it was the skirt of the filly’s dress. His coat was a pale gray – Raspberry gray, stop pretending to be a barbarian! – and his mane was a mohawk with moderate rose and light gray stripes. His attire was what one might dub ‘business casual’, what with his cuffed shirt and buttoned vest. A pistol harness could just be seen poking out from under his blue jacket. A bodyguard, perhaps?

The filly ignored him entirely, moving as fast as her short legs could take her to the Arcaenum’s four front doors. By the time Rarity reached the posts for tying Ophelia off, they were inside. A curious development, to be sure. She allowed herself a moment to scratch Ophelia under the chin and grab a few things from her panniers before following them through the exceedingly rare and equally exceedingly expensive glass doors.

The lobby of the Arcaenum was a large room, though compared to the exterior it felt underwhelming. The dark, wooden walls were sloped shallowly towards the ceiling, which seemed to make the silver chandelier all the brighter, and the floor was a thin but soft and clean purple carpet. Near the back of the room was a circular desk large enough to house four ponies. Indeed, it was probably intended to. Yet today it only sported a single unicorn, who was dressed in a plain, conservative brown frock that would have looked better in a bonfire than on a pony. Rarity hoped it was some sort of job requirement rather than the unicorn’s clothing of choice.

The aquamarine mare’s ears perked and swiveled Rarity’s way. She flashed a bright, pearly smile past the filly and stallion, who were having a hushed argument near the wall. “Hello, and welcome to the Arcaenum! The name’s Lyra. What can we do for you today?”

Lyra had barely finished her introduction before the filly whipped around to glare at Rarity. “Hey, no cutting in line! We got here first.”

The stallion – Dry, she’d said his name was? – placed a hand on her shoulder. “Look, Scoots, I’m sure the mages are too busy for this.”

Rarity, Lyra, and ‘Scoots’ all stared at him. The high walls of the lobby seemed to loom over all of them. Not a sound echoed in the empty space.

Scoots turned away. “Yeah, so. We’re first!”

The receptionist cast a glance Rarity’s way, her expression a silent query for guidance. Shrugging, Rarity offered a flourish of a wave to the filly. “I’m in no hurry. Do go on.”

The filly pumped her fist and ran for the desk. Dry heaved the sigh of the suffering, adjusted the skirt still draped over his shoulder, and followed at a more sedate pace. Demonstrating her diminutive size by standing on the tips of her hooves to see over the desk, Scoots declared, “We need to see the Witch, like, now. It’s serious!”

“Of course.” To her credit, Lyra was able to avoid that saccharine condescension common among adults talking to silly children. “And you are?”

The filly’s attempt to answer was interrupted when the stallion pressed a hand atop her head. “Don’t call her a witch. She’s not a witch.” Then, to Lyra, “Her name’s Scion Loos. Ow!”

The swift kick to his shin distracted him enough to free little Miss Loos from under his hand. “Call me Scootaloo,” she growled, hands balled into fists and tiny wings spread wide. “I hate that name.”

“What the hey, kid?” Dry whined, lifting his leg to rub at it. “You didn’t have to hit so hard.”

“Tough it out, ya big baby.”

Rarity barely resisted a giggle. She was starting to like this filly.

Lyra clapped her hands, interrupting their back-and-forth barbs. “Okay, Scootaloo! So you want to talk to…” A pause, then a wry smile. “The ‘witch’. Heh. I assume that stands for Trixie Lulamoon. May I ask why?”

Turning back to the matter at hand, Scootaloo firmly declared, “My sister and her boyfriend are missing. She can help find them.”

The receptionist considered this, one hand on her hip and the other tapping a finger against her chin. “That sounds more like something for the Guard, doesn’t it?”

“That’s what I said,” Dry groused.

“No way.” Scootaloo shook her head so hard her ears flapped. “I trust one of those guys about as far as I can throw them.” Rarity wondered if that was an intentional reference to the filly’s petite form. “They’re more likely to be in on it than actually help.”

Lyra leaned over the desk to better meet Scootaloo’s gaze. Seriously, she said, “Miss Lulamoon’s time is precious these days. She’s going to want payment for her services, even if she can’t help.”

If anything, this made Scootaloo appear even more confident. “Oh, that’s not a problem. My sister’s boyfriend is loaded. He’ll pay.”

Dry promptly slapped her on the back of the head. “Don’t promise other ponies’ money!”

She sent him a dirty look while rubbing the back of her head. “Stop talking like you’re my dad or something, it’s weird.”

“He has a point though.” Lyra’s words caught the filly’s rapt attention. “We can’t accept a promise of maybe getting paid after the job. Miss Lulamoon’s going to expect at least some of it up front.”

“What?” Scootaloo’s ears drooped, her tail swishing. “I’m thirteen. I don’t have any money.”

Lyra calmly sat back down in her chair, neatly folded her hands over one another, and turned her expectant eyes on Dry. To this he shrugged and said, “Don’t look at me, I was opposed to her coming here from the get-go. I’m not about to pay for what I think is a dumb idea.”

Scootaloo whipped around to glare at him. “It’s not dumb! My sister is missing! The Guard won’t help, in fact they’ll probably make things worse. I can’t just sit at home doing nothing, unlike some ponies.”

Unfazed by her anger, Dry coolly countered with, “Your sister disappears for days on end all the time. This isn’t any different.”

“Yes, it is!” Scootaloo stamped a hoof, her wings letting out a little buzz. The frustration on her scrunched up face was on the verge of producing tears. “She always tells me where she’s going, or leaves me a note, or… or something! She didn’t do that this time. That means something’s wrong. Why won’t you believe me?”

His argument was interrupted by the clatter of a pair of obsidian gemstones landing on the reception desk. All eyes turned to Rarity, who flicked her mane and offered them all her most charming smile. “Will that be enough to get us in?”

Lyra needed a second to close her gaping mouth before picking up the two gems in one hand. “Uh, yeah. More than enough.” She cast a glance at the still-staring Scootaloo and Dry. “Do you, er, want some change?”

Rarity waved the offer off. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Whoa, hold on, wait a minute.” Scootaloo pointed at Rarity. “You just threw away, like, a thousand bits!”

Dazedly, Dry corrected, “A hundred and sixty, actually. Which is still…” He shook his head.

Nodding at the correction, Scootaloo pressed, “Why would you do that?”

It was a pretty big chunk of bits. Rarity would have to be frugal for the next few weeks. Even so, she could only smile. “I too want to meet with the Lady Lulamoon, and this expedites things.” She met Scootaloo’s questioning gaze, her voice going quiet. “More importantly, I know what it’s like to fear for a family member. It’s terrifying, isn’t it?” The filly looked down, shoulders hunching as she pouted. Rarity thus turned her smile to Dry. “I’m therefore willing to give Scootaloo here the benefit of the doubt.”

The stallion crossed his arms, his expression wary. “That’s a lot of bits to throw away on just a filly’s word.”

He was right, but somehow Rarity wasn’t concerned. If anything, she felt relaxed. There was even a pleasant warmth coming from her chest, which above all else reassured her that this was the right thing to do. “Yes,” she answered pleasantly, “nopony ever believes the children.” Her attention went to Lyra. “So. When can we meet Miss Lulamoon?”

“For what you just put down? Right away.” The receptionist leaned sideways and began fiddling with something. She deposited a small sign reading ‘Back in ten minutes!’ on top of the desk then stood with an accommodating smile. “Come, all three of you. I’ll introduce you.”

As they followed her to the door on their left, Dry asked, “Shouldn’t someone else do that? I mean, a customer could come in.”

Another long pause. Everypony stared at him. Scootaloo’s quiet cough echoed in the empty lobby.

“So.” Lyra opened the door and waved them in. “What brings you here, Miss…?”

“Rarity Belle. I’m just looking to get an artifact scanned for potential enchantments.” She nearly ran into Scootaloo when the filly abruptly whipped around and stared with the kind of wide-eyed awe only a child could muster. Straightening up with a huff, Rarity observed the other two looking at her with no more or less subtlety. Hands on her hips, she sighed. “Go ahead, get it out of your system.”

It came out of Scootaloo’s system as a squeal so loud it was a wonder the exorbitantly expensive glass doors in the front of the room didn’t shatter. “You’re the Bulletproof Heart!”

Pressing a finger into one ear, Dry muttered, “Luna in the sky with diamonds, kid, since when did you have such lungs?”

A similarly cringing Lyra added, “I’d call you out as a liar, but you do match the descriptions, and that certainly looks like the Silver Lining.”

“Did you really fight off griffons? Is it true you went one-on-one with the Flaming Vermillion? Can I hold your gun? Can you take me with you?” Scootaloo’s wings were buzzing so much they actually lifted her off the floor for a few seconds, her teeth on full display.

“Yes, yes, not right now, and absolutely not.” Rarity leveled the filly with a firm frown. “And please, do not spread this around. This city is Apple territory and I have no intention of getting into a gunfight in the streets.”

The filly mimed zipping her lips and nodded, her eyes still sparkling with fascination. “I won’t say a word to anypony! Except maybe my sister and future step-brother, but they won’t tell anypony. They’re cool like that.”

“Well, if Trixie would have ever entertained doubts about helping you, they’ll be gone the moment she finds out who you are,” Lyra declared, taking Scootaloo’s hand and pulling her so that they could get on with their walk. She led them through a short hallway to a set of winding stairs.

“Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!” Scootaloo was all but dancing, her hooves kicking along the stairs playfully. “Wait until I tell Apple Bloom I met the Bulletproof Heart! She’s gonna be so jealous!”

Dry heaved a sigh and shot Rarity an apologetic look. “Kid, you just promised twenty seconds ago not to tell anypony.”

“Not to tell anypony in Manehattan, maybe.” The child blew a raspberry at him, which he returned with equal enthusiasm. Giggling at his response, she explained to Rarity, “Apple Bloom isn’t in Manehattan. It’ll be weeks before I get to talk to her again. It’ll be safe by then, right?”

She supposed there was no point debating the matter. In a few weeks she’d probably not even be in the Eastline anymore. Rarity ignored the ongoing banter in favor of keeping close to Lyra as they left the tower stairs and walked along a narrow hallway. Aside from the ever-present argument that Dry and Scootaloo seemed incapable of ceasing, the place was quiet. “I don’t mean to be rude,” she said once by the receptionist’s side, “but for a place that studies magic, there’s not a lot of, well, magic. Is the Arcaenum having staffing issues?”

Lyra shrugged as if to wave off the potential insult, yet there was no hiding the unpleasantness in her expression. It was as though she’d just sucked down a sour grape. “More like a publicity issue. The Arcaenum’s not exactly appreciated by Manehattan’s earth pony-heavy citizens these days, and it’s publicly funded. Low popularity means low funding, low funding means not a lot of employees. Right now there’s me, two ponies in ‘administration’, and about a half-dozen mages, Trixie included.”

How strange. Rarity had always been of the impression that the Arcaenum was considered a Manehattan tradition, an institution, a source of local pride. Whyever would its popularity be so low? “Did something happen recently? Maybe something to do with the Archmage’s death?”

Lyra threw up her hands dramatically. “I don’t know! Things were already going downhill before Lady de Lis died. I’m a receptionist. I fill out paperwork and keep track of appointments. I don’t exactly rub shoulders with the decision makers around the city.”

Rarity took no offense to the defensive reaction. If she was reading the unicorn properly, this was stress talking. And why shouldn’t she be stressed? If things were really going that badly, her job might even be on the line. “I apologize,” she offered diplomatically. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

The response came not from Lyra, but from Scootaloo, who was suddenly walking between them. “There’s no big conspiracy or big event. It’s just history.”

Somewhere behind them, Dry offered a “Here we go.” that almost certainly was accompanied by an eye roll. It had that kind of tone.

Ignoring him, Rarity asked a curious, “What do you mean by that, dear?”

Hands behind her head and wings spread slightly, Scootaloo elaborated. “The Arcaenum goes through phases of popularity. They usually last between forty and fifty years. The ponies of Manehattan spend some time enjoying the benefits of local mages and prosper. Then they get so used to it they stop appreciating it. The old earth pony and unicorn differences get brought up. This is an earth pony town, so of course that distrust leads to anti-magic politicians getting elected, which leads to lower funding for the Arcaenum. Two or three decades later and all the benefits of having a lot of skilled mages around start to be missed as old enchantments and magical products break down. Earth ponies want the unicorns back. And just like that, everypony loves the Arcaenum, pro-magic politicians get elected, funding comes back, mages are doing their thing again. Rinse, recycle, repeat.”

They stopped before a dark blue door, all eyes on the filly. She bristled at the attention, wings giving agitated flicks and tail lashing. “What? Why does everypony give me those looks when I talk about this stuff?”

“Hate to break it to you, kid,” Dry replied with a chuckle, “but most ponies don’t find rifling through three hundred years of newspapers as entertaining as you do.”

Rarity couldn’t help being impressed. She wondered what it would be like to introduce Scootaloo to one A.K. Yearling. Assuming she could ever track the mare down, that is. She imagined the archeologist would be thrilled to find another pony she could talk history with. Rarity herself had proven rather lackluster in that particular department, and she had to admit she wouldn’t be any better at it now.

Lyra let out an awkward cough. “Remind me to ask you about more of this stuff later.” With a wave of her hand, she brought everypony’s attention to the blue door. Only now did Rarity notice that it was adorned with the image of a wand topped by a star. “Trixie’s place is in here. It’s both her home and her laboratory, so I suggest you not touch anything. She’s a private pony, doesn’t like others messing with her stuff.”

Dry pressed his hand atop Scootaloo’s head with enough force to make her bend a little. “Hear that, kid? Hands to yourself.”

She slipped out from under him, slapping his hand away in the process. “Shut it, I can respect other ponies’ stuff.”

“Except your sister’s.”

“She doesn’t count.”

“Why?”

“It’s a ‘sisters’ thing.”

“Also.” Lyra’s firm tone interrupted their latest quarrel. The seriousness in her tone caught Rarity’s full attention. “She’s under a lot of stress lately, and she’s never been the easiest pony to get along with. Try not to take offense if she proves a bit… snippy.”

Of course. If the Arcaenum was facing money problems, Trixie was too. Plus she’d been the apprentice of the previous Archmage. There had to be some pressure on her because of that. But Rarity questioned why Lyra had spoke of her as though she were difficult. Once everypony nodded their understanding, the receptionist knocked on the door and let herself in.

While Lyra and Scootaloo headed in, Rarity leaned over to offer Dry a conspiratorial whisper. “Are you two related?”

He raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. “No. I’m just the guy hired by her sister to keep her safe.” At Rarity’s peering look, he adjusted his shirt collar. “What?”

“Nothing at all.” She left him to his confused staring.

Lyra had told them the place was occupied, yet she’d failed to mention the mess. Rarity would have expected a mage to keep a more organized home, but this place was more cluttered than her sister’s side of the bedroom they shared as kids! It was at once nostalgic and disturbing. One corner of the room was occupied by a large pile of empty glass bottles, books were tossed every which way, and there were no less than four tables covered in all kinds of laboratory equipment that followed no rhyme or reason she could deduce. At least there weren’t any dirty clothes thrown around, though this didn’t mean there wasn’t a smell. It was probably coming from the chemicals bubbling in that cauldron by the door. Curious that there was no fire below it to provide heat.

Scootaloo stood near the middle of the room in a relatively clean space. She spotted Rarity and Dry coming through and jutted her chin to an open door opposite the entrance. “Lyra said to wait here while she gets the witch.”

“You really should stop calling her a witch,” Dry reminded her with all the manner of someone not expecting his sage advice to be heeded. He still had a bit of pink on his cheeks, to Rarity’s amusement.

“And you should grow a spine,” the filly countered as if saying the sky was blue. Rarity once again questioned if they were not related after all.

Her musing and their bickering came to an abrupt end as a voice arose from the other side of the door. “Lyra, honestly! I’ve got research to do. Can’t one of the other mages deal with this? I bet Soprano’s free.”

Lyra’s voice followed, her tone lecturing. “Need I remind you that you’re paying rent now? It doesn’t matter how ‘great and powerful’ you think you are, it won’t stop you from being ‘poor and homeless’ if you don’t get some jobs soon, and you’ll never get jobs by sitting in your study thumbing through books that were ancient on the Day of Burning.”

“This research is important!”

“They already paid.”

“What? You already accepted payment without consulting me on what they want? You have no idea the cost of what they’re asking for!” A short pause was followed by a complete shift in tone. “Are those obsidians?”

The voices died down to harsh murmurs, but it didn’t take a socialite to know that Trixie’s decision had been made. Rarity allowed herself a preening mane-flick, well aware of Scootaloo’s and Dry’s appreciative glances.

At last, the target of this little endeavor appeared. Trixie was roughly Rarity’s height, which put her on the short side. She was a brilliant azure with a two-toned mane dominated by more azure. Her attire could be described in one word: magical. More specifically, it included a blue, button-up dress serving well to accentuate a curvy figure. Small accents of yellow stars decorated the sleeves and collar. A purple vest rounded out the attire with similar yellow decorations. Rarity’s long-starved inner fashionista couldn’t deny that the look worked fantastically.

Such a shame it was that the overall look was marred by dark bags under Trixie’s eyes, a mane and tail that clearly hadn’t seen a brush in a week at least, and a slouched posture that spoke of exhaustion. She wore a strained smile that made it abundantly clear that she’d rather be anywhere but here, her gray-violet eyes moving from visitor to visitor as if seeking out who was in charge.

“Alright,” she declared with hands on her hips. “You’ve got my attention. Now somepony please tell me what was so important they’re willing to drop two obsidians up-front over it?”

Scootaloo piped up before any of the adults in the room could go first. “My sister’s missing! I need your help to find her.”

The look Trixie gave her was the kind Rarity might reserve for a cockroach. “And you are?”

“I’m Scootaloo!” Then, with far less enthusiasm and a thumb over her shoulder, “That’s Blow Dry. He’s with me.”

“Right.” Trixie’s eyes drifted to Rarity, possessing both the obvious question and its associated disdain. Lyra stepped through the door behind her, her expression apologetic and, if Rarity wasn’t mistaken, annoyed in that way a pony develops when having dealt with a problem for a long time.

Put off by the mage’s manner, Rarity raised her chin slightly and replied imperiously, “Rarity Belle.” She tilted her head towards Scootaloo pointedly. “Their financier, if you will.”

Trixie straightened up at the name, a spark of recognition in her gaze as she took Rarity in with fresh interest. Her eyes lingered for a few seconds on Silver Lining, then back to Rarity. “How… generous of you. So.” Her attention went back to Scootaloo who, to Rarity’s amusement, seemed quite pleased with herself. It was almost as if knowing the Bulletproof Heart was some sort of great personal achievement. “A missing sister, is it? I think I already know the answer to this question, but why are you bringing it to me and not the Manehattan Guard?”

Scootaloo’s grin instantly transformed into a look of utter disgust. “Trust the guard? In this town? Screw that. For all I know, they might even be responsible.”

Dry frowned at her. “That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?” Rarity was inclined to agree, though she kept her opinion to herself.

“You must be new to this town,” Trixie answered before Scootaloo could. When the stallion only appeared to share Rarity’s perplexity, she elaborated, “The Manehattan Guard answer to the Cabinet. The Cabinet is run by the Houses. The Houses are perpetually at one another’s throats.”

“And you never know which House the guard you're talking to works for,” Scootaloo concluded, her words spat out as if to be rid of a foul taste.

“Exactly.” Trixie nodded with an approving smile. Which, considering the topic at hand, Rarity wasn’t sure was the right thing to do. “The kid gets it. The Guard are corrupt to the core.”

Lyra finally decided to butt in on the conversation with a skeptical, “You’re just bitter because you’re still under investigation.”

The mage stiffened, sucking in a sharp breath through her teeth. Without looking back, she hissed, “Trixie refuses to discuss that in front of clients.” Lyra raised her hands and nodded her concession, and though Trixie couldn’t have possibly seen it the mare still seemed to relax. Curious.

“Okay, then.” Clapping her hands together, Trixie gestured to Scootaloo. “Missing sister.” She made the same gesture at Dry. “You’re with her.” She waited for his nod before repeating the motion at Rarity. “Financier.”

“I came for my own reasons, actually.” Rarity noticed Scootaloo beginning to puff up, her little wings flaring, and so politely amended, “But she may go first.”

The slight frown suggested Trixie would rather deal with the Bulletproof Heart first, but after a moment’s pouting she brought her attention back to the foal. “Alright, then. For starters, are you sure she’s missing?”

Scootaloo groaned at a reaction she’d probably been getting all day long. “Why does everypony ask something like that? Yes, I’m sure. Can we please skip the part where you treat me like an idiot so we can get to saving my sister?”

Trixie smiled. More of a smirk, really. It would seem that she liked the filly’s attitude. A curious thing; Rarity would have expected her to snap at the foal for being disrespectful. “Fair enough. I can help you, if you have what I need. Specifically, I need something that holds special value between you and your sister. I don’t suppose you brought something like that with you?”

Scootaloo’s ears perked, folded down, perked again. She pursed her lips in thought, crossing her arms and humming. Dry smirked and started to reach for the pink skirt still hanging from his shoulder, but a hiss and glare from Rarity was enough to make him drop the idea, his smile turning sheepish.

“Okay.” Scootaloo finally met Trixie’s gaze, though without the same confidence she held before. “I have something, but not on me. It’s at home. I can bring it over here right away and—”

Trixie raised a silencing hand, the other on her hip. She bore a smile that was probably meant to be magnanimous, but there was a certain self-important smugness that ruined the effect. “No need, for I, the Great and Powerful Trixie—” Rarity raised an eyebrow at the rolled ‘r’ in ‘great’ “—shall accompany you. That’s faster for everyone.”

“Really?” Scootaloo’s eyes lit up. “You’d do that?” Judging by the look on Lyra’s face, she was just as surprised.

“Of course! Let it not be said that Trixie doesn’t go all out.” She focused on Rarity, still possessing that showmare’s grin. “Assuming that’s alright with you, of course.”

All eyes turned to Rarity, but she only tittered and waved dismissively. “That’s perfectly alright, I assure you.” She rubbed at the necklace beneath her shirt even as she tried not to think about it too much. “I can always return tomorrow.”

“Nonsense!” Trixie snapped her fingers over her shoulder at Lyra, who blinked in perplexity at the act. “Why not come along? Surely the mare who solved the water crisis at Bitter Ergot is up to a little sibling sleuthing.”

Rarity’s ears folded back. This was not at all what she anticipated. Her instinct was to bow out. This had nothing to do with her after all, and more importantly she didn’t want to be part of any altercations this might lead to. But then she saw Scootaloo’s eyes brighten and a smile that rivaled a sunrise. She might be going for the tomcolt look, but that didn’t mean the filly couldn’t weaponize ‘the cute’ whenever spending a day with a celebrity gunslinger was at stake.

Well. It wasn’t like she had any plans for today. And she had just dropped a considerable sum to get the filly’s case heard. Would it not be appropriate to see if all that money amounted to something worthwhile? Yes, yes it would. This decision was made entirely based on the merits, and not at all because of Scootaloo’s pearly white teeth and lashing purple tail.

“Oh, I suppose I could tag along.”

“Yes!” For such a tiny filly, she sure had some lungs. “We’ll have my sister rescued in no time!”

“Glad that’s settled. Now—” Trixie reached aside as if to grab something, but all her fingers clutched was air. She paused, then looked at Lyra. Lyra stared right back. “My cloak?”

The receptionist cocked her head. “Your cloak?”

“Yes, my cloak. You know the one.” She snapped her fingers as if in demonstration. “I was asking you to grab it for me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” Lyra threw her hands high. “It’s your cloak, not mine. I don’t know where you put it. And since when was I your butler?”

Shoulders hunched and casting a fretful glance at the others, the mage muttered a disappointed “Trixie was hoping to impress our customers with our coordination.”

Rubbing her forehead with a frustrated scowl, Lyra countered with tired exasperation. “Just get your own cloak.”

Like a foal told she couldn’t play until she finished her chores, Trixie let out a drawn-out “Fiiine”, set hands to her hips, and looked at the mess that was the room with a big, face-saving grin. A second passed. Another. Her grin faded. “Uh, this may take a minute.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow. “Maybe try your closet?”

“Closet. Right. Of course.” The mage stumbled her way to another door, cheeks alight and her clients bemused.

Author's Notes:

I don't know why, but I've always had this idea in my head that BPH Rarity had a thing for asparagus. For the sequel, I occasionally wrote scenes in which she soothed her regular brooding with one, a stalk dangling out her mouth like a cigar. At least part of this is that it reminds her of her father, who often grilled asparagus, and we all love the food we grew up on.

Many, many years ago, I decided that Scootaloo's full name was Scion Loos. I'm not sure why I was convinced she needed a 'full name', but I saw no reason not to reference it. Scion means descendant or heir (and sometimes guardian), whereas Loos is an archaic term for praise, fame, or reputation. Thus her name could be taken to mean "descendant of fame" or, perhaps, "guardian of reputation". Yes, sometimes I nerd out a little when trying to name characters.

Because of the wildly different nature of the environs and an emphasis on marks being a private matter, I felt the need to give Scootaloo something new to add to her presence. It ended up not getting as much attention as I'd originally intended, but my answer was to make her fascinated by history. Why? I don't know, it just came to me.

The Search

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Unsurprisingly, the Arcaenum had secret passages. One of those led to a separate building a couple streets over. Trixie insisted she exit that way so as to avoid any guards watching the entrance, a precaution justified when Rarity once again spotted the same mare from earlier in the alley. She had to wonder just why Trixie was trying to avoid being seen by the authorities in the first place. It wasn’t like she was under house arrest.

Not everypony had a lizard. In fact, Rarity was the only one. Thus did they all walk along the backstreets and byways. Except Scootaloo. As most foals did, she became instantly enamored with Ophelia and had been over the moon when it was suggested she ride, albeit with Rarity using the reins as a lead. Ophelia, if anything, appeared quite pleased with this development, frequently revealing her toothy grin.

The filly was maintaining a running conversation with Blow Dry, leaving Rarity to focus her attention on Trixie. Just Trixie; Lyra had to stay at the Arcaenum since she was still on the clock. Sporting a dark purple cloak studded with stars that genuinely sparkled, Trixie was surprisingly quiet and alert, constantly glancing around as if expecting an attack at any moment. Curious and a little concerned, Rarity asked, “Is something the matter?”

Trixie spared her only a cursory glance before going back to her scanning. “It’s nothing too serious. Just being cautious.”

Rarity took a look around the compact streets. It was quiet. Not devoid of activity, but nowhere near as packed full of ponies as the main thoroughfares had been. Nopony in the area paid them any mind that she could see, save perhaps to smile at Scootaloo as she pretended to be a gunslinger atop Ophelia. Although the idea sounded absurd, she went ahead and asked, “Is this a dangerous area?”

“Hardly.” Trixie pressed a hand to her collarbone and smugly declared, “Nothing is dangerous for the Great and Powerful…” A pause. The hand went down and she finished the line in almost a whisper. “Trixie.” Her eyes danced around, taking in everything around them and even above.

Rarity wasn’t fooled in the slightest. She peered at the visibly anxious mare, who fidgeted under the attention. Now that she thought about it, it was Trixie’s idea to avoid the main roads. Checking to ensure neither Scootaloo nor Dry were paying them any attention, she asked, “Is somepony after you?”

The mage scoffed and held her head high. “Trixie understands that being nosy is the kind of trait mares need to solve mysteries, but you should keep your attention on things that matter, like the current situation.”

Okay, so she didn’t want to talk about it. Perhaps that was fair enough. Still, Rarity wanted to make things abundantly clear between them. She leaned a little closer and whispered directly into the mare’s flicking ear. “Keep your secrets, but if the ‘current situation’ puts that filly’s life in danger then you will answer to me.”

The mage met her gaze with a stare that was neither angry nor worried. This lasted for only a second or two, interrupted by those dark, violet eyes flicking towards the ever-unaware Scootaloo. Then she faced forward and casually declared, “You’ll get your consultation when Trixie finishes finding Scootaloo’s sister and no sooner. She has to manage her job priorities, and you did volunteer to go second, she believes.”

If Rarity’s social cues weren’t as rusty as she sometimes feared, then that was code for ‘I’ll tell you when there aren’t so many potentially prying ears’. Deeming this a reasonable enough response, she threw on a charming smile and replied, also at normal volume. “Oh, of course. I was only making conversation, darling.”

The topic was dropped, but Trixie didn’t relax. Rarity had to wonder why she would wear that flashy cloak if she didn’t want to be seen, but left well enough alone. There was nothing she could do about it now, except perhaps cause a scene. That didn’t stop her from wondering why the former archmage’s apprentice was acting like a criminal watching out for the Manehattan Guard.

It had been nearly a two-hour trip to reach Scootaloo’s modest home, a set of rented rooms in a wide, one-story building. This part of the city was clearly a poorer district, the houses appearing old and uncared for, yet the locals seemed pleasant enough. Scootaloo opened the door to the apartment with a brass key she’d been carrying in a pocket, leading them into a cramped space covered in dust.

Trixie, waving her hand to keep the particles out of her face, was the one to ask the obvious. “If this is where you live, why does it look abandoned?”

Indeed, ‘abandoned’ was the right term for it. They entered a combined kitchen and living room, the table and counters covered a pale gray from accumulated dust. There were no windows, and when Dry attempted to turn on the one magilight in the room by tapping its gem it only offered a feeble light, indicating a nearly empty charge.

Scootaloo was already making her way through a hall leading to their left. “When my sister got with her boyfriend, we moved into his place. We’ve not been here in, like, a year.”

“I believe it,” Dry muttered, gently slapping the side of the magilight in an attempt to make it brighten.

“Uh, Rarity? Trixie? Can one of you come back here and give me a light?”

“I’ve got it.” With a dramatic flourish of her cloak, the mage headed down the hallway, horn emitting a magenta radiance.

That left Rarity alone with Blow Dry, who had given up on the magilight and was now rolling a small, oblong green peridot between his fingers. He studied it as if it held some great secret. When he spotted Rarity watching him, he shrugged, adjusted the pink skirt that was still slung over his shoulder, and said, “Just need something to do with my hands.”

Rarity couldn’t resist a little smile. “The two of you seem close. How long have you been watching her?”

“Close. Maybe.” The peridot twirled between his fingers as he stared at the dark hallway. “It’s just her and her ‘sister’, or it was until the boyfriend came into the picture. Now the sister spends all her time with the hubby enjoying the classy life. Kid wanted attention. Then I get hired to keep her safe. Had to be around because that’s literally my job.”

And so Scootaloo latched onto him. The poor thing must miss her sister dearly. Even so, “It was good of you to step up.”

He huffed and looked away. Maybe it was just a trick of the dim magilighting, but Rarity thought she saw a bit of pink in his cheeks. “Not like I had much choice.”

The conversation petered out. Rarity didn’t mind. He had to be a stallion and pretend like this was all beneath him, but Rarity thought the whole thing cute. She’d spare him his masculinity and not nudge the topic any further.

Scootaloo and Trixie returned not long afterwards, the latter carrying a small, worn book. Curious, Rarity had been expecting a trinket or a toy. She peered at it, thankful that Trixie’s magical aura made it easy to read the cover. “The Life and Times of a Manehattan Hansom Driver? Can’t say I’ve ever heard of it.”

Scootaloo, cheeks hot enough to start a fire, kicked at the floor and avoided her gaze. “It’s a favorite. And it was a gift. It’s not weird.”

“Nopony’s saying it is,” Trixie noted in a tone that suggested the conversation was beneath her.

“I think it is.” Dry flinched when Rarity flicked his ear. “What?” Scootaloo glared at the floor and said nothing.

Trixie had her eyes closed, the book slowly rotating before her face. Her lips were set in a thin line of concentration, her mane fluttering in a light breeze that seemed to come from nowhere. “This will do the job nicely. There’s a clear link between two ponies, a link born of affection. And with that link and a little tweaking I can… Almost got it… There.

“Here you go.” Trixie levitated the book down to Scootaloo, who took it as if afraid it might fall apart at her touch. “Can you feel the tug?”

The child’s ears perked as she held the book. A blink, a twitch of the ears, and then she turned almost fully around to stare at a wall. “I feel like there’s something that way.”

“That ‘something’ would be your sister,” Trixie proudly declared. “Just follow that tug and it will take you to her.”

Scootaloo’s face lit up. “Great! Let’s go, Dry, if we hurry maybe we can—” She jerked to a stop and fell to a sitting position, the book sliding across the floor. She looked back to find her purple tail held firmly in place by Rarity’s magic. “Hey! What gives?”

“A moment, if you please.” Rarity helped the filly up, casually brushing the dust from Scootaloo’s pants as she did. “Am I correct that you believe your sister is in some sort of peril?”

Puzzled, Scootaloo replied, “She’s marrying into one of Manehattan’s ruling families. The politics are literally cutthroat, and she’s missing. What else am I supposed to assume?”

“That she’s trying to spend some alone time with her hunk of stallion meat?” Dry didn’t flinch when the two mares and one filly gave him deadpan looks. “What? The guy’s more chiseled than a granite statue.”

With a shake of her head, Rarity turned her focus on Trixie. “You’ve finished the specifics of your job. What do you intend to do now?”

Clearly seeing where Rarity was going with this, the mage hesitantly glanced between her and Scootaloo. Defensively, she noted, “There’s no proof the child is going into danger.”

No intention of going any further, then. “I’m afraid our consultation will have to wait until later.” With a disappointed huff, Rarity brought her attention back to the filly. “I’ll be going with you.”

Scootaloo, still flummoxed by these events, looked owlishly up at her and asked, “You will?”

Blow Dry took an anxious step forward. “You ain’t got to do that, Miss Belle.”

“I insist.”

“It’s not your business.”

“I made it my business when I forked over two obsidians to get you through the door.”

“We never asked you to do that.”

“And yet I did.”

“Doesn’t the Bulletproof Heart have better things to do than chase after some imaginative kid’s fantasies?”

“Hey!” Scootaloo finally recovered enough to step into the argument. “Stop being a jerk. Besides, who wouldn’t want Rarity to come? There might be bad guys in need of shooting.”

Rarity tittered nervously at that proclamation. Scootaloo sounded just a touch too enthusiastic about the prospect of ponies dying. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Come, let’s get going. I’d like to find your sister before sundown, if at all possible.”

Dry did not appear convinced. If anything, he seemed even more worried, his lips set in a firm frown as he returned the peridot to his pants pocket. Regardless, he tossed the skirt still draped over his shoulder onto the table – the dust practically exploded outwards on impact – and waved at the door. “Ladies first.”

The three of them exited and Scootaloo promptly began marching down the street, book held tightly to her chest and face set with determination. Rarity paused only long enough to attract Ophelia to her with a snap of her fingers and give the lizard a rub under the frills. Reins in hand, she took only a few steps before noticing the mage walking beside her.

If anything, Trixie appeared even more nervous than she had on the way over. Her fingers toyed with the frayed edges of her cloak and her eyes darted everywhere all the time. Rarity studied her, then quietly asked, “I thought you were going back to the Arcaenum?”

Trixie promptly straightened and tilted her chin up, assuming a haughty posture. Even so, she also kept her volume down. “Far be it for the Great and Powerful Trixie to leave a filly to fend for herself in a dangerous situation.” She looked ahead to make sure the other two weren’t paying attention. Tone far more sincere, she added, “Trixie wants to be helpful for once. And she… might also want something in return.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “More than two obsidians?”

Trixie met Rarity’s look with an expression of utmost severity. “What I want doesn’t come with a price tag.”

Eyebrows narrowed, Rarity let a little ice slip into her words. “Does it involve shooting anypony?”

“It involves information,” Trixie countered, not losing an ounce of solemnity. “That’s all.”

As hard as she tried, Rarity could detect no dishonesty in the pony’s words or expression. It almost sounded like Trixie was going to ask her to do a job of some sort, but if she recalled Lyra correctly then Trixie was broke. Did she hope helping Scootaloo out on this little adventure would count as payment?

Perhaps it did. Rarity couldn’t make any judgment calls without knowing what the mage wanted first, and there was nothing wrong with hearing her out. Refocusing her attention forward, she replied, “We’ll discuss this at your place when this is all over. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” A beat. “And thank you.”

Rarity’s ears perked at that. It sounded so… relieved. “For what?”

“For not dismissing me outright.”

Was that a common problem? Rarity couldn’t help but wonder. One would think the former apprentice of the Archmage of Manehattan would have the ear of many a pony. Perhaps there was more going on here than she realized.

She’d deal with it later. For now, they had a sister to rescue.

The book led the ponies away from the city center. Then away from the markets that made up the inner ring. When it became apparent that they might end up leaving Manehattan entirely, Trixie decided to refine her spell on the book a little.

They were resting in a park, Scootaloo being distracted by a certain white dust devil who seemed so very pleased with the attention while Trixie worked her magic. She claimed that what she was doing now was both far more difficult and permanent, or at least long-lasting enough to outlive Scootaloo. As such, she demanded some time to herself to concentrate, and the others saw no reason to object. The mage went to a nearby gazebo and lost herself in her work.

That left Rarity and Blow Dry sitting at a picnic table nearby, munching on some granola packets out of Ophelia’s panniers and watching Scootaloo. The filly was currently examining a reclining Ophelia’s claws one at a time, apparently fascinated by them.

Dry gestured to the scene. “Should I be worried about that?”

“Ophelia wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Rarity replied with proud confidence. “Unless that fly was trying to hurt Scootaloo, that is.”

“If you say so.” Dry hardly appeared convinced, his gaze not leaving the filly as she brought her muzzle within inches of those short but sharp talons.

He really was protective of her, wasn’t he? Rarity was confident that if she pointed it out he’d dismiss it as ‘just doing his job’. The look on his face wasn’t that of someone scared of losing a steady paycheck, though. Not wanting to confront his stallionhood pride, she decided to play things more subtly. “If I were that close to a lizard at her age, I think I’d have been terrified. Or grossed out.”

He nodded, not taking his eyes off the filly and lizard. “She’s brave. Stupidly so, sometimes.”

Rarity couldn’t help but grin. “She sounds like a handful.”

His response came with a combination of both weariness and amusement. “You have no idea. Can’t blame her sister for wanting a break.”

Humming in response, Rarity rested her cheek in her palm and smiled as Ophelia began sniffing the laughing filly’s hair. “Would it be too forward of me to ask what happened?”

He finally tore his gaze away from them so that his confusion could be apparent. “What happened?”

“Yes. To her parents.”

His ears perked, the question catching him entirely off guard. He looked between Rarity and the filly. After a moment he took out his peridot and began rubbing it with both hands. A nervous tic, perhaps. “She doesn’t know.”

“Oh.” Rarity frowned at the thought. “Was she too young?”

He palmed the peridot, gave it a squeeze, moved it to the other hand and repeated the motion. “Something like that.”

Rarity kept her eyes on Scootaloo, but studied him in her peripheral vision. “Wouldn’t her sister have told her?”

He clenched the stone in one hand and gave Rarity a narrow-eyed stare. “Why are you asking?”

“I was only curious.” She glanced at him, then away. “I’m overreaching. I apologize.”

An awkward silence passed between them, interrupted by the occasional sound of Scootaloo talking to Ophelia. Seconds came and went. Rarity tried to find some way to change topics and get a fresh conversation going, but now she was more curious than ever. Perhaps it was the old gossip in her coming back. Gossipping was, she now understood, a potentially hurtful thing, but ah, it could be so much fun.

Dry spoke up while she was still fighting against the old temptation. “Look, I don’t know the full story. Even if I did, it’s not my place to tell you. I can only say two things. Whatever the truth is, only Scoots’ sister knows it, and she does not want Scootaloo to find out. You want to know more? You’ll have to ask her when we find her.”

“Right. Of course.” Rarity faced him to offer an apologetic smile, but he was back to focusing on Scootaloo. “Forgive my curiosity.”

He didn’t acknowledge the statement. At first Rarity thought she’d truly offended him, but the more she watched the more she realized that he was deep in thought. His fingers shifted in a seemingly complex pattern, rotating the peridot through them in a slow dance of motion. His eyes kept shifting to the stone and back to the filly, and his lips were set in a thin, contemplative frown. Every now and then he’d stop the motion of the peridot between two fingers and raise it to his lips, almost as though he planned to take a bite out of it, only to think better of it and go back to twirling the thing.

Curiosity struck, but Rarity reeled it in this time. She’d already been a bother once today, no need to pester him about a rock. She did have to wonder if he was related to the Pies in any way.

They kept quiet until Trixie walked up to them some fifteen minutes later, book under an arm and a proud smile on her lips. “All done. Scootaloo, could you come over here?” As soon as she did, Trixie offered her the book. “You should be able to get better information now. Try it.”

The filly took the book in both hands, her eyes going wide. “Whoa. Yeah, I see what you mean.” She promptly turned a south-eastern direction and pointed. “She’s that way. Like, exactly that way.” This was certainly an improvement. Before, Scootaloo said she had only a vague idea of direction.

“Good, good.” Trixie nodded, but then gained a worried look. “Now. Can you get a sense of distance?”

Scootaloo began to hum and mumble to herself. “Yes? It’s not clear, but I get the feeling that she’s… both close and not? It’s hard to explain.” She closed her eyes, keeping that one finger pointed to the southeast. “Don’t ask me for a number, but I definitely have something like distance in my head.”

Patiently, Trixie knelt next to Scootaloo with a hand on the filly’s shoulder. “Okay, that’s good. Do you think she’s outside the city?”

Dry leaned close to Rarity and whispered, “Do you think she could have done this from the beginning?” Rarity promptly elbowed him in the ribs.

“Yes,” Scotaloo answered with full confidence. “Definitely outside the city. But not far outside it. And not moving, either. Wherever she is, she’s standing still right now.”

Beyond the city. Rarity frowned up at the sky, but it was still a lovely blue. The sun was on its way to the horizon, but they had some time yet. Even so, it was starting to sound like they should have gathered some more lizards for the trip. “I don’t suppose either of you could easily grab some dust devils?”

Scootaloo whipped around to glare at her. “Nopony’s getting cold hooves! You’re used to roughing it, aren’t you?”

Unintimidated by her stare, Rarity replied with a lecturing, “Do you want to get there faster or slower?”

Mouth opened. Mouth closed. Scootaloo looked abashed for all of three seconds before perking up. “You and me can go ahead! With Ophelia it shouldn’t take—”

Dry set hands to hips and stared the filly down. “Not a chance in Tartarus.”

“And it’s ‘you and I’,” Trixie added under her breath.

Scootaloo’s wings buzzed as she met the stallion’s glare. “Come on, we’ve got to hurry!”

Blow Dry scoffed. “Kid, you’re smarter than that.” He reached into another pocket and pulled out a bank booklet. “I’m sure there’s a stable around here somewhere, there always is, and your sister’s marrying into the agricultural elite. It won’t be too much trouble for them to pay me back for a few rented lizards.”

Face turning tomato red, Scootaloo set her hands behind her back and kicked at the grass. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

He reached out to ruffle her mane. “It’s okay to be in a hurry. Just try to stop tunnel visioning so much.” He smiled when she slapped his hand away, Rarity watching the whole time. “Now come on. I’m sure if we ask around we can find a stable pretty quick. Think of how much time we’ll save.”

Smoothing a head of mane that refused to be smoothed, Scootaloo grinned and replied, “Fine, but I’m riding Ophelia with Rarity. Ow!” She jumped back from the finger that had flicked her ear. “What was that for?”

Dry gestured Rarity’s way. “Did you ask?”

Despite giving him one more scowl and rubbing her ear, Scootaloo turned to Rarity and, with exaggerated politeness, asked, “May I ride Ophelia with you, Miss Belle?” She shot Dry a sharp look as she said the name, as if to ask ‘Happy now?’

Rarity primly responded, “Why yes, yes you may. Thank you for asking.” She waited until Scootaloo had turned to run towards Ophelia before winking at the stallion. The corner of his lip quirked up, but he restrained himself from offering a proper smile in return.

Trixie sighed and raised a hand to Blow Dry. “I’m riding with you,” she muttered, not meeting their confused looks.

It was Rarity who asked the obvious question. “Don’t you want one of your own, darling? I’m sure Mr. Dry will be compensated for a third lizard.”

Trixie’s fingers fiddled with the corner of the cloak, her cheeks turning a little pink as she kept her eyes low. “Trixie doesn’t know how to ride one. And she doesn't want to learn. It’s bad enough she’ll have to be a passenger.” She shuddered a little at the statement.

Rarity and Dry shared an uncertain glance. In his gaze she found a mutual agreement not to press the matter.

“Come on, you guys!” Scootaloo waved at them impatiently from beside the lounging Ophelia. “We’ve got places to be!”

They lost less than an hour on the lizard hunt. As the sun inched ever closer to the horizon, the ponies left Manehattan proper with Dry and Trixie on a rented lizard of their own. It was a soft pink color and named ‘Princess’. Scootaloo had tried to rib Dry about his choice, but the stallion was unflappable on the topic; he knew a good lizard when he saw one, or so he claimed. What did affect him was how tightly Trixie held onto him from behind, her cheek pressed against his back and her eyes tightly closed. Though he said nothing about it, his blush could have lit up the city.

Rarity worked to keep Scootaloo distracted as they went, but her mind kept going back to the mage. Why was Trixie so afraid? Was it of the lizard itself, or the simple act of riding one? More than anything, Rarity pondered why a mare so terrified of such a thing would put herself through it. True, Rarity had wanted Trixie to come at first. Now that she knew what Trixie was putting herself through however, she wouldn’t have blamed the mage for bowing out of this one.

Why didn’t she?

They moved along tall but shallow hills coated in swaying green grasses and past the occasional thicket or briar patch. A powerful scent came with an east wind, just as much texture as smell: salty, thick, and moist. Rarity brought it up and was surprised to learn that it was the scent of the ocean. Even while in Manehattan, she had never been this close to it. That the Bulletproof Heart had never been to a beach before both amazed and gladdened Scootaloo, who relished the idea of being the first to share the experience with her.

They crested a particularly tall hill, and there it was. Water, so much of it that it boggled her mind. Though there were still several hills between them and the beach, Rarity remained stunned at the idea of an entire horizon taken up by something other than land. She felt a strange temerity at the thought and was unpleasantly reminded that she was not a very good swimmer.

Fortunately, there was something else in the area to distract from the seemingly endless water. From atop their hill could be seen a small log cabin. It was nestled in the valley of some distant hills and surrounded by what appeared to be an orchard. Even from this distance, the smoke rising from the chimney was visible. Scootaloo touched the book in her lap and promptly pointed at the structure. “There. That’s where we’re going.”

“Oh, thank Luna,” Trixie hissed. Eyes still tightly closed, she asked, “Does that mean Trixie can get off this thing?”

“Just a little bit further, Miss Lulamoon.” Blow Dry patted Trixie’s hand and whipped his reins, Princess taking the lead. As he passed by Ophelia, he tilted his head towards her and added, “Sure looks calm considering somepony’s supposed to be ‘in danger’.”

Scootaloo tensed in Rarity’s lap, her ears folding back. “I don’t know this place,” she said, more to herself than her companions. “I don’t know it at all. Why would Sis come here?”

Rarity wrapped an arm around the filly, giving her a squeeze. “Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of things soon enough.” With a gentle nudge of her boot, she urged Ophelia onwards.

The rest of the journey went by quietly. Within another half hour, they were approaching the cabin. Now that they were so close, Rarity realized that the orchard consisted entirely of apple trees. The fruits were only just beginning to form and wouldn’t be ready to harvest for another season at least. It wasn’t a large orchard, maybe two or three acres, beyond which was naught but hills and grass and the distant, gentle lapping of waves.

The cabin was tiny by Manehattan standards, only a story tall and largely undecorated aside from an apple-themed wind vane and a few flowers along the sides. The windows and front door were all open, letting in the cool ocean breeze that rolled over the hills. The ocean itself couldn’t be seen from down here, but the heavy scent of it was inescapable.

Scootaloo made to jump off Ophelia, but Rarity held her tightly in place and shushed her. “If your sister is in danger,” she whispered into the filly’s perked ear, “then perhaps I should go first.” In truth, Rarity was starting to lean in Dry’s direction. Still, it was good to be cautious. Treating the threat seriously would both respect Scootaloo’s worries and keep Rarity herself safe in the extremely unlikely chance that something was wrong.

Trixie all but fell off of Princess. She settled on her hands and knees, shaking like a leaf and staring at something beyond the hills and grasses, expression haunted. Scootaloo wasted no time going to check on her. Though tempted to join them, Rarity felt it would be prudent to address the house before somepony noticed the strangers in their front yard. Dry had the same idea, and so the two met halfway and faced the cabin.

“Any ideas as to what this place is?” Rarity asked, undoing the safety straps on Ruby Heart and Silver Lining.

“My bits are on a vacation home,” he replied. “And we’re about to crash said vacation.” Even so, she saw him ready his pistol.

“If so, then why not tell Scootaloo or you about this place?”

Dry gave her a knowing smile and replied, “So we wouldn’t crash the vacation.”

Rarity met his gaze, then caught on. With a wane smile and a sigh, she asked, “Young lovers?”

“Young lovers.”

“Wonderful.” Rarity cast a quick look behind her. Trixie was now sitting in the grass, a little less pallid and holding hands with a visibly apologetic Scootaloo. The child noticed her looking but made no attempt to join them. Rarity wondered if such a decision had been difficult for her. At last, Rarity refocused her attention on the cabin. “Let’s get this over with.”

“And let’s hope it’s not embarrassing for everypony involved,” Dry amended with a smirk.

They got only halfway to the door when something huge passed through the portal and into the yard. That ‘something’ proved to be the single most exemplary display of stallion physique Rarity had ever laid eyes upon, a shirtless goliath who looked like he could snap one of the orchard’s trees with his bare hands. Clad only in blue jeans, herculean muscles dotted with freckles, the giant was as red as a fresh apple and sported a mane and short beard the color of fresh hay. Just one look at him had Rarity feeling hot in ways she usually didn’t associate such positive feelings towards.

Blow Dry sighed, crossed his arms, and muttered, “You’re looking awfully healthy for somepony who is supposed to be kidnapped.”

The stoic expression on the hunk’s face gained a hint of confusion. “Mr. Dry? What are you doing here?” Oh Celestia, that baritone could melt a glacier!

“Big Mac!” Scootaloo was abruptly in front of the giant, barely coming to his waist. Her wings buzzed with eagerness as she grinned up at him. “You’re alright! I thought for sure you were in trouble.”

‘Big Mac’ set meaty hands to his hips and looked down at the filly, not appearing at all amused. “Scoots. Why would you think I’m in any sort of trouble?” Rarity had finally recovered from her most embarrassing moment of shock to recognize a very familiar and thick accent in the stallion’s words.

Scootaloo kicked his shin, which appeared to have no effect whatsoever, and snapped, “Because you ran off without telling me anything! Where’s Sis?”

“Scootaloo!”

From out of the house came a pegasus mare in a yellow sun dress. Her pale green coat and wavy mane of mixed mint colors gave the impression of softness, but her eyes offered the familiar frustration of an elder sibling. “What in Luna’s name are you doing all the way out here?”

“Sis!” Scootaloo rocketed past Big Mac to latch onto the mare’s waist. “You’re okay! Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

Startled by this outburst, the mare gradually returned the hug. “Yeeeees?” She looked up at all the ponies that now surrounded them, eventually locking eyes with Blow Dry. “Did something happen back home that we should be worried about?”

Blow Dry had the peridot pressed against his palm again, rubbing it with his fingers. He appeared monumentally bored. “Nope. The kid’s just overreacting to things.”

“I wasn’t overreacting!” Scootaloo shot him a withering look, then spun back to face her sister. “You didn’t tell me where you were going. You didn’t even tell me you were going. You always tell me. What was I supposed to think?”

The mare groaned and rubbed at her forehead. Yes, Rarity knew what that was like. Little sisters; so precious, yet so bothersome. “I didn’t tell you because I was trying to have a few private days with my fiancé. Was that really so much to ask?”

Dry flicked the peridot like a coin, catching it easily. “Told you.” Rarity elbowed him in the ribs. “What?”

“Gloating is unbecoming.”

Trixie chose that moment to appear among the group, a smug smile on her lips. “But it’s so much fun. Speaking of, now would be the perfect time to praise the Great and Powerful Trixie for her charms.” Then, with a flick of her mane and a little laugh, “And the enchantment too, I suppose.”

‘Sis’ stared at Trixie. One would think a runaway leaper was about to slam into her at full speed. Not breaking eye contact, she said, “Scoots, please tell me you did not drag an infamous mage from her house arrest just to come looking for me.”

“House arrest?!” Rarity whipped around to stare at said ‘infamous’ mage.

Trixie’s bravado fled in an instant, her smile sheepish and her hands fiddling with her cloak’s frayed edges. “Ahem. Right. Did Trixie not mention that?”

“Well, who would you rather I get?” Scootaloo asked with the utter confidence of youth. “The Manehattan Guard?”

If anything, ‘Sis’ went even more stiff. “No, definitely not them.”

“Could be worse,” Blow Dry said with dry amusement, pointing his chin at Rarity. “Could have lassoed a famous gunslinger into it too.”

Big Mac, finally taking an active part in the conversation, stepped towards Rarity and offered a hand that fully encased Rarity’s when she shook it. “Everypony here knows who everypony else is, except for you. Hello, I’m McIntosh Apple. Everypony just calls me Big Mac.”

“Forgive my rudeness.” ‘Sis’ stepped forward to offer the same handshake. Getting up close revealed that the pegasus was only a little taller than Rarity, which made her tiny compared to the bulk of her betrothed. “I’m so sorry my sister dragged you into this. I’m Vapor Trail, a pleasure.”

“It’s quite alright,” Rarity replied with as engaging a smile as she could muster – which was quite engaging, if she were to permit a bit of ego. “Honestly, I put myself into the situation more than she did. Rarity Belle, charming and charmed in equal measure.”

“Oh.” An excited gleam passed through Vapor Trail’s eyes, the corners of her lips tugging up in a knowing grin. “So you’re the pony that has Applejack all tied up in knots.”

Now it was Rarity who was taken aback. “You know Applejack?”

Vapor chuckled at her bewildered look and pointed a thumb towards Big Mac. “Well his name is McIntosh Apple.”

Right. Scootoaloo did say that her sister was marrying into an agricultural family. She just never specified which one. She turned to appraise Big Mac a little more closely. “So you’re related to her, are you?”

The stoic face became a warm smile. “She’s my little sister.”

“Ah. Well, this has been a day of discovery, now hasn’t it?” An unpleasant worm of a thought wriggled through her brain, making her little pony hide in a closet as she eyed the house. “She’s not… around, is she?”

Big McIntosh’s stoic expression returned. “Nope. Off at the Acres, visiting our little sister. Then she’s got rounds to do, properties to visit, meetings to have. Mare left her work behind for nearly a year and now she’s paying for it.”

Right. Octavia had said as much that morning, had she not? Rarity wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved. Maybe a bit of both? Repressing a sigh, she smiled and offered a neutral, “I see.”

“So you’re ‘Rarity’,” Vapor said, as if this were a fascinating concept. “Then that means you are… Wait.” She stared at Rarity. Then at Blow Dry. The frustration returned to her features as she once more whipped around to glare at her kid sister, green wings stretching out to their limit. “Not only a mage under house arrest, but the Bulletproof Heart?! Scootaloo, what am I going to do with you?”

An offer of dinner and a night’s stay were accepted by everypony present. Rarity had been concerned about room at the beginning, but it turned out the small cabin had a basement level that consisted of three spare bedrooms, a significant and fully stocked wine cellar, and storage for foodstuffs. These all were at glaring odds with the simple setup above of only three rooms made out to look like a tiny rural getaway. She supposed it was a place meant to appease preferred elements of both luxury and simple living.

Night would soon be upon them, and Rarity was outside tending to Ophelia. ‘Tending’ in this case mostly meant keeping the dust devil company while she ate her day’s reward of lizard feed. Some distance away was Blow Dry with Princess, tending to her needs and generally keeping to himself.

She didn’t notice Vapor Trail’s arrival at first. She was too busy rubbing beneath Ophelia’s frills and enjoying the lizard’s pleasant coos. Then she looked up and Vapor was there, admiring the two of them from a few steps away. The pegasus set her hands behind her back with a frail smile. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all.” Rarity grinned and patted Ophelia’s shoulder. “My little attention hound here would love the extra company, wouldn’t you, my sweet?” The dust devil paused in her eating to glance at Vapor Trail, let out a faint trill, and went back to her feed bag. “See? She approves.”

“Well as long as Ophelia’s okay with it, I guess.” With a cheerful smile, Vapor Trail walked around to the opposite side and began copying Rarity’s actions with the ease of experience. “Been a while since I had a lizard to care for. I bet Scootaloo took a liking to her real quick.”

“She did, indeed.” Rarity’s curiosity drove her to ask, “So you used to care for lizards. Did you own a stable?”

“Oh, no.” A wistful frown came upon the pegasus, though she didn’t stop rubbing and scratching. By Ophelia’s heightened coos, she was hitting all the right spots. “I used to travel in a caravan with my parents when I was a foal. Tending to the dust devils and thick scales was considered safe enough for a little filly, so that was my job. After they died I stayed in Manehattan doing other things. Low-key desk work, mostly.”

Remembering Blow Dry’s reaction to her queries, Rarity elected not to pursue this topic any further. There were other things worth gossipping about, and some were certainly more fun than others. With a wicked smile, she said, “I can’t say I know too much about your situation, but going by appearances I’d say you’ve done very well for yourself.”

Vapor Trail shot her a knowing wink. “Going by appearances, yes, I’d say I did. A pity there’s only one of him.”

“Yes, quite the pity.” They shared a quiet chuckle at that, punctuated by a curious trill from Ophelia.

When the light laughter drifted to an end, Vapor Trail offered a softer smile. “Scootaloo gave me the full story. I wanted to thank you for putting up with her. Big Mac plans to pay you back those obsidians.”

Rarity hummed at this. Part of her wanted to object, seeing as the obsidians were a gift given freely without any expectation of a return. The more practical part reminded her that getting their worth back would be a nice outcome. Besides, rejecting would surely be deemed rude, and Rarity was never that. “I appreciate it, although I am obligated to at least make a token objection.”

“Duly noted,” Vapor titteringly answered. Her gaze went over Ophelia’s head and towards Blow Dry. Rarity followed the view just in time to see something flash green. “There he goes again.”

Rarity refocused on Ophelia, if only to ensure Dry didn’t notice her attention. The lizard let out a snort and raised her head with a ruffle of frills. Recognizing the signal of a belly properly sated, she walked around to pick up the feed bag. “What was that?”

“He does it every few nights.” Vapor flashed a knowing smile and pointedly avoided looking Blow Dry’s way. “Scotaloo hears him whispering to the stone sometimes. Pretty sure he’s using it as a communicator to talk to his marefriend.”

A marefriend? He never brought that up. Then again, it didn’t seem like the kind of thing he’d talk about without some prodding. “Have you asked him about it?”

“As my fiancé would say: nope.” Vapor’s grin remained firmly in place, wry and smug and full of guilty pleasure. “It’s a lot more fun to gossip about it behind his back.”

With practiced ease, Rarity held the bag up to Ophelia’s panniers while her magic tied it in place. She was going to have to restock on the stuff before she left Manehattan. “Wouldn’t it be even more fun to gossip about it when he’s within earshot?”

The pegasus shrugged, watching as the ropes neatly tied themselves taut. “He’s very defensive about that gem. It’s as if he doesn’t want us to know he has a marefriend.” Her smile drooped. “Which is kind of sad.”

“I suppose.” Rarity had no interest in delving into Blow Dry’s love life. Or rather, she was, but knew and respected that he wouldn’t appreciate her prying. Such an attitude was a far cry from how she’d been before starting this whole ‘Bulletproof Heart’ thing, but then she was different in a great many ways. She gripped Silver Lining, running her finger along its familiar knub, as a reminder of just how true that was.

Still, there were other things worth gossipping about. Leaning her back against Ophelia and looking towards the cabin, she asked, “Has he always been so fond of Scootaloo?”

Mimicking Rarity’s posture, Vapor regained her playful smile. “Not at first, but she grew on him. Good luck getting him to admit it. Which reminds me, what happened to the skirt of her dress?”

It took a moment for Rarity to understand what the mare was talking about. “I believe they left it at your old apartment.”

Vapor groaned. “That dress was a gift. I keep trying to get Scootaloo to be more like a filly, but she fights me at every turn. We’re about to be part of the agricultural elite. They have expectations. I need her to put her best hoof forward.”

Ah, yes. Rarity’s old dream. Wealth and prestige, the best dresses (all designed by herself, of course), tea and crackers with the mayor and ballrooms dances with strapping suitors. It felt a bit shallow now, but perhaps that was only because she’d never attained and no longer sought such heights.

And yet… Frowning in thought, Rarity asked, “Are you sure that’s what she needs?”

Vapor cocked her head in that way pegasi do, sharp and uncomfortable looking. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve met Applejack,” Rarity reminded her. “Does she at all strike you as ‘girly’?”

The pegasus shrugged, dismissing the point outright. “Applejack inherited her position. We’re marrying in. There’s a difference.”

“She still has to do business here, doesn’t she?”

“Mackey does most of that… but yes, there are times when she gets involved.”

Rarity smirked at the thought. “And did she ever wear a dress, which would be the expectation?”

“No.” Now Vapor was smirking, and Rarity abruptly didn’t like the look in her eyes. “She wears suits. Really nice suits that look really nice on her.” Vapor leaned close and whispered, “Pretty sure we’ve got a picture in the cabin somewhere.” Her laugh at Rarity’s dour stare was downright gleeful.

Let the pegasus laugh. Rarity and Applejack might have left on better terms, but Rarity was a far cry from fully forgiving the mare her indiscretions. This whole courting nonsense wasn’t going to go anywhere. Only now did Rarity realize that perhaps the primary reason Vapor was out here was to investigate the mare Applejack was supposedly infatuated with.

Infatuated. By the Night Mother’s moon, she hoped that wasn’t the case anymore.

“Oh, stop looking so annoyed!” Vapor gave Rarity a playful push. “You should be flattered. AJ’s not that bad, is she?”

You don’t know what she did. But it would do no good to anyone to bring it up. Better to leave it alone. “No, she’s not ‘bad’,” Rarity begrudgingly admitted. “In fact, she’s quite a good pony. But when she does make a mistake, she jumps into the manure as deep as she can go, and I have no intention of sullying my hands to help her get out.” With a huff and crossed arms, Rarity concluded, “She wants out? She’ll have to crawl on her own.”

Vapor winced. “Ouch. She must have really stuck her hoof in it.”

The response was a low growl. “That’s putting it lightly.”

“Just give her time. If she really feels that strongly about you, she’ll find a way to make it up to you. She’s stubborn like that.” The pegasus stepped away from Ophelia, who had by now slipped into a deep slumber. Brushing her skirt as if to rid it of dirt, she turned back to Rarity. “Want to head inside? Trixie’s been putting on a little magic show for Scootaloo.”

But Rarity had noted something out of the corner of her eye. It warranted the extra attention. “No, you go on. I think I’ll stay out here a little longer.”

“Suit yourself.”

As Vapor left, it dawned upon Rarity that the subject of Scootaloo wearing dresses was never resolved. She peered after Vapor, wondering if that was intentional. If so, then perhaps the mare would do well amongst the agricultural families. She only hoped Scootaloo didn’t have to keep fighting her sister on the subject of dresses too much more.

But that topic had passed. Time for a new one. She turned to Blow Dry, who had been waiting just on the edge of the cabin’s lighting. “And what are you about, hmm?”

He stepped forward, the combination of light from the cabin and surrounding darkness giving him a grim appearance. “Didn’t realize you’d noticed me.” When she offered no reply, he said, “I was thinking we should get out of here.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Rarity carefully enunciated, “We?”

He nodded. There was something ominously serious in the way he did so. “Me. You. Scootaloo and Trixie. Go back into the city and leave the couple to their coupling.”

“It would be past midnight by the time we got to the city limits.” Turning to him, Rarity peered at his blank expression. “I hardly find it appropriate to make Scootaloo travel all that way this late.”

Blow Dry grunted, although whether it was in agreement was unclear. “It would be better for Trixie. She could sneak back into the tower she’s apparently not supposed to leave. Much easier to do at night.”

“I’m staying the night,” Rarity assured him. “I don’t get to sleep in a proper bed very often and I’m loath to interrupt such an opportunity.” She tactfully didn’t mention that she was supposed to be staying at Octavia’s. Hopefully the dear musician wasn’t worried about her unexpected absence. “You’re free to ask Trixie if she wants to accompany you.” Even as she said it, she felt a lingering insecurity.

“Can’t go anywhere without the kid,” he firmly replied. “It’s kind of my job.”

So what was he getting at? Did he want her to take Trixie and leave? She couldn’t imagine what reason he’d have for that. It was almost as if… “Mr. Dry, are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No, I just…” He sighed and looked away. Even in the shadows, his uncertainty was plain to see. After several long seconds, he stepped further into the light. “I appreciate your help today, Miss Belle. Really. I just don’t like being here. It feels like we’re intruding, and it feels like it’s my fault. I could have put a stop to Scootaloo’s antics at any time, but instead I let her drag us out here to what is clearly some sort of pre-marriage honeymoon.”

Crossing her arms, Rarity at last found his purpose. “Worried about your job?”

He tucked a hand in his pocket, undoubtedly to grip his peridot. Fleetingly, he met her gaze. “A little.”

With a warm smile, she shook her head. “Scootaloo likes you. Even if this was a serious issue, she wouldn’t let them fire you. You’re worrying too much.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” He shot her a pleading look. “You sure I can’t convince you to go?”

“I’m sure. And I doubt Vapor or Big Mac would approve of Scootaloo leaving so late.” She flashed him one more of her charming smiles before turning for the cabin. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Scootaloo’s word goes further than you think.”

He said nothing, nor did he follow her. She wouldn’t stick around to reassure him. Somehow she doubted it would do any good.

The Fight

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This house was a pile of strange decisions. The substantial basement, the tiny exterior, the contradiction of fancy and rural, and now? No indoor plumbing. Rarity had been flabbergasted that despite all the bits the Apples undoubtedly poured into this place she’d been forced to use an outhouse. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with outhouses, it was just so far outside her expectations. Who in the wide world designed this place?

Her business done, Rarity started back to the house, which was a good fifty feet away. Or would have had she not noticed through the crescent-shaped window a certain oddity. Namely, it was Blow Dry leaving out the house’s back door. He had his peridot out, and it was shining a bright green. Curious – and feeling oddly anxious about being seen leaving the outhouse – Rarity chose to wait and watch.

Blow Dry’s face was set in a scowl as he spoke into the gem. He strode in circles, gradually moving closer as if unconsciously trying to make some distance from the house. Only when he got closer did Rarity hear his hushed voice.

“—chance. She doesn’t deserve to be caught up in it.”

Rarity’s ears perked when a new voice, distinctly male, arose from the stone. Though garbled and faint, it was nonetheless decipherable.

“She’s a witness now. It’s too risky.”

Dry stopped somewhere to Rarity’s left, beyond where she could see in the limited view of the window. “She’s just a kid. A kid! I didn’t sign up to murder children.”

It was things like this that made Rarity never go anywhere without at least one of her guns in arm’s reach. She bit back the urge to growl, her thumb tracing itself around Silver Lining’s knub.

The voice on the other side of the peridot spoke up after a few moments. “I get it. You like the kid. That’s fair. But they’re already coming, and they have their orders. Nopony in the cabin and the surrounding area gets out. Nopony.”

A moment’s silence. “So if I get her out of here, she’s safe?”

“She’s safe,” the voice confirmed. “But you better hurry. You’ve got minutes, and I can’t vouch for how they’ll define ‘surrounding area’.”

“Got it. Out.” Dry stuffed the peridot in his pocket, turned for the house—

—and froze, because Silver Lining’s barrel was pressed against his cheek. A beat to widen his eyes and fold his ears, then? “Discord damn it.”

“They’re after McIntosh and Vapor Trail,” Rarity deduced, tone more frigid than the chill in the wind. “They thought that stone was to talk to a marefriend. You had them fooled all along, didn’t you?”

He turned his head, letting the barrel of the gun dig a little deeper into his cheek so he could meet her gaze. His hands were raised. “We don’t have time. They’re coming.”

“Indeed, I heard.” Rarity pressed the gun even harder against his face, making him lean away a bit. Oh, how tempted she was. By the look in his eye, he knew it. “What was your plan? To take Scootaloo away and let them kill the rest of us?”

Despite his vulnerable position, he had the gall to plainly respond, “You didn’t accept my offer to leave earlier, so yeah. That was the plan.” His eyes darted past her, not looking at any given thing but instead roaming. “Look, seriously, they’ll be here any second. Only way we get out of this alive is if we aren’t here when they arrive.”

Rarity huffed and indulged one more fantasy of pulling the trigger. Alas, her better nature won out. Pulling back and taking note of the circular bruise on his cheek, she waved to the house. “Come on, inside.” He wasted no time, walking at a brisk pace. Keeping Silver Lining level with his back, she asked, “How many will they bring?”

“Don’t know.” When the gun pressed against his back, he reiterated, “I don’t know! All they told me was that a posse was on the way.”

Well, that was frustrating. They reached the house, Blow Dry opening the door ahead of her. He tried to make for the stairs first, but Rarity grabbed his arm and dragged him to a closed door. “I need to get to Scootaloo,” he hissed.

She shoved him against the door, hard. “Do they know about me and Trixie?”

“We don’t have time for—”

She caught his head in her magic and pinned it against the door hard enough for the bang to resound through the house. “Do they know?”

“Yes!” He squirmed, feeling at his pinned skull as if his hands might dislodge it. “Yes, I had to tell them. I’m supposed to be a professional.”

With a disgusted grunt, she released and shoved him aside. “Go get Scootaloo. And wake Trixie. If I don’t see her with you there will be Tartarus to pay.” Rubbing the back of his head and scowling, he ran for the stairs.

That done, Rarity focused on her next task, banging her fist on the door. “McIntosh, get up and get armed! You don’t have much time.” She was just about to turn away when the door opened.

Rarity had to catch herself at the sight of a wall of muscle that went up past her horn. She’d known McIntosh to be a rugged fellow, but thinking it and being so close to it were two separate things. She clenched her weapon tight to keep that hand from rising up and daring a touch.

Big Mac’s eyes were as hard as his abs, and his baritone alone could have crushed skulls. “What’s going on?”

Shaking herself out of her momentary stupor, she stepped back and looked to the stairs. No sign of the others yet. “I just learned from Mr. Dry that we’ve got assassins on the way. They aim to ensure that, and I quote, ‘Nopony in the cabin and the surrounding area gets out’.”

If anything, his expression grew even harder. Adjusting the jeans he’d likely thrown on in haste, he asked, “How long?”

“Not sure and not long. Don’t know how many, either.” Rarity would have continued had a bright flash of light not come from the stairs. They both whipped around to the sound of Dry’s cursing and Scootaloo’s shout. Before either of them could react, Vapor Trail darted from the room and down the stairs, dressed in little more than a silken robe. Rarity only got a brief glance at the pegasus’s face. It was a look that could kill.

They followed her to Trixie’s room, where they found the mare herself dressed in loose-fitting pajamas decorated in stars, a wide-brimmed and pointy felt hat, and her bare hoof planted on the chest of one Blow Dry. Her shimmering horn did a great job illuminating her furious expression. “—that it would be that easy? That you could just show up in my room and I’d welcome you with open arms? I’m not some prey in your juvenile fantasies!”

Rarity took stock of the situation quickly and holstered her weapon. In the corner was Vapor Trail fussing over Scootaloo, who was rapidly blinking red eyes and appeared stunned, probably as a result of the flash. When Big Mac made his way to them, Rarity decided to focus on the supposed adults in the room. “Trixie.”

The mage finally took note of everypony else present. The aura around her horn didn’t fade. “Rarity. Good. You can help me skin this pervert.”

Knowing that time was of the essence, Rarity spoke quickly. “I sent him in here to get you. We’re about to come under attack.”

Recoiling as if slapped, Trixie took on an expression of utter horror. “No. Trixie didn’t do anything. It’s not her fault, I swear!”

Though not sure what to make of that response, Rarity scowled down at Blow Dry as he rubbed at his eyes. “No, it’s his. Mr. Dry led them here.”

The room went deathly silent. Trixie’s horror evaporated, replaced first by shock, then a teeth-baring fury. Big McIntosh, Vapor Trail and Scootaloo all looked on in open confusion. For his part, Blow Dry remained on his back, eyes locked with Scootaloo’s.

It was the filly who finally spoke up. “H-hey, that’s not a good joke.”

A relieved smile came upon Blow Dry’s lips. He rolled to a sitting position. “Right. Bad joke. But we really do need to—”

Silver Lining was back out in a flash, aimed directly between his wide eyes. “If you lie to them one more time I swear I’ll waste a bullet on you.”

Hands spread wide, ears flat against his skull, he looked from her to the trio of ponies in the corner. They all awaited his word. Vapor Trail and Scootaloo still appeared at a loss. Big Mac, on the other hand, was appearing more grim by the second. As she was behind him, Dry didn’t notice Trixie’s raised hands, little shocks of electricity dancing between her fingers.

At last he met Rarity’s gaze. “You wouldn’t.”

Silver Lining’s hammer cocked. “You clearly have no idea who you’re talking to.”

Blow Dry visibly swallowed at that. He stared into Rarity’s eyes, and whatever he found in them was enough to make his coat gain an extra shade of pale. “Scootaloo will hate you for it.”

The barrel pressed against his forehead. “You were going to get her family killed.”

“Damn it, I have a job to do!” He leaned against the gun, fear now mixed with his anger. “I still do! The longer we wait, the harder it’s going to be to get her out of here. Put the gun away and stop wasting everypony’s time!”

Clever. He worded it just so that he technically didn’t lie. In respect for his wordplay, she kept to her word and didn’t redecorate the room in red and pink. Besides, he was right, and they would need every gun they could get their hands on. Rarity stepped back, but didn’t take her aim away from him. “I think it’s far too late to be running away. At this point your options are to either help us fend off the attack or admit your guilt and join it.”

Fear flashed across his features then. “W-we might still have time—”

“Minutes, he said,” she reminded him coolly. “Minutes. And how long have we been down here?”

“Luna damn you!” The stallion climbed to his hooves, all the better to glare at her. “I could have gotten her out of danger! Does my guilt really matter in the face of that?”

That struck home. Rarity felt a moment of horror as she realized exactly how true that was. Whether Blow Dry was guilty or not, he’d been trying to get Scootaloo out of here. Wouldn’t that be a good enough reason to let him go? But she’d been so eager to confront him and get a confession that she’d not even thought about the child’s safety. And now it was assuredly too late…

It was Trixie who broke the tension with her own hissed, “So you are guilty?” The sparks in her fingers intensified.

He spun around to face her. “I didn’t say that!”

Barely had the words left his mouth than Trixie’s clawed hand was around his face, traces of energy darting to and from his head. He went stiff and started to shake.

“Dry!” Scootaloo tried to run to him, but Big Mac and Vapor Trail caught her and held her back. She struggled and flapped and kicked, yet their combined holds were too much for her tiny form. “Stop, she’s hurting him!”

Just as quickly as it had started, Trixie jerked her hand back and Blow Dry flopped to the ground, twitching and sucking down sharp breaths. The mage flexed her fingers to dismiss the last lingering bits of electricity. Her face could have graced a painting entitled ‘Revulsion’.

“Rarity’s telling the truth,” she coolly announced. “Truth detection spell. He betrayed us and wanted to leave us for dead.” Her horn let out a sharp flash, and then she was covered in purple and yellow sparkles. The shimmering curtain fell away like a splash of water, revealing Trixie in yesterday’s travel clothes. “Trixie will begin preparing some magical defenses.” She lifted her hand, and the peridot levitated from Blow Dry’s pocket and into her palm. She stalked out of the room, not giving anypony within it another glance.

Rarity met Big Mac’s sour gaze. He gave her a nod, so she turned to leave, unwilling to face the look of teary-eyed betrayal in Scootaloo’s eyes for very long. Blow Dry was groaning and sitting up at around the time she’d closed the door.

After retrieving Ruby Heart and her ammunition from her room, she found Trixie upstairs, horn glowing as some sort of aura floated like fog under the front door. “What’s your plan?” she asked, habitually checking that her weapons were loaded.

“Traps,” Trixie replied, not taking her eyes off her work. “My talent involves enchanting, rather than more direct offensive magics. Anypony tries to come in through this door, they’ll lose their hooves.” She raised her hand, displaying the peridot. “Tried a quick scry to see if I could locate the enemy, but apparently that ass’s relation with his employer is strictly professional.”

Rarity nodded, holstering Ruby Heart but keeping Silver Lining in hand. She stalked to a window and looked outside. Nothing but moon-lit shadows. “Make a stand underground?”

Trixie hummed, the aura around her horn fading along with the fog. Try as she might, Rarity could see no visible difference from what had been there before. The mage turned for the back door. “Obvious, but we don’t have many other options. We could make a run for it through the orchard. If we’re surrounded, there would be fewer ponies to push through.”

Rarity grimaced, her thoughts turning to Ophelia and Princess. The poor dears were outside, and there was no way they’d be able to fit through the doors. Would the hunters kill the lizards? It would hardly make sense, but she discarded the idea that these ponies might be reasonable. If they killed her sweet mount there’d be Tartarus to pay.

Refocusing on the situation at hand, she considered Trixie’s suggestion. “They’ll probably have lizards,” she noted. “And we don’t have enough for everypony. They’d hunt us down.”

“Basement defense it is, then.” Trixie finished trapping the back door, then seemed to consider her options. “Doubt I have time for the windows, but I can do the stairs. Maybe if I—” She went quiet when she saw Rarity press against the wall next to one of the windows, then followed suit. “How many?”

“I counted at least four,” Rarity answered, risking another peek. “Make that six. We have to assume there are just as many in the front, and maybe more hidden in the hills.”

They needed firepower. Tugging on Trixie’s sleeve, Rarity led her back to the stairs. They found Big Mac, Blow Dry, and Vapor Trail, all armed. Blow Dry was sporting a black eye and there were wet stains on his shirt. His pistol was in hand and he now wore an over-the-shoulder belt with extra ammunition.

Big McIntosh held a shotgun. Rarity had to do a double take; the thing had six barrels! How did that even work?

Vapor Trail had a rifle, short-barreled, and she held it like she knew exactly how to use it. “How many?” she asked, all traces of the sweet and playful mare long gone.

“I saw six in the back,” Rarity swiftly replied. “As for the front?” She glanced over at Trixie standing near one of the windows. The mage looked about ready to rip somepony’s head off as she spread her hands at them. “Ten in front, then. Maybe more, given poor visibility.”

Big McIntosh nodded and shoved Blow Dry forward. The stallion stumbled a bit, but stood straight when he stopped in front of Rarity. He caught her look and scowled. “I’m stuck here with you, and those idiots don’t know who I am. Ain’t got a choice now.”

Fair enough, though Rarity didn’t trust him not to try putting a bullet in her back at the first opportunity. She turned him towards the back door and gave him another push. “You and I will watch the back. Vapor, assist Trixie in the front. Mr. McIntosh, put out fires and watch for attempts on the sides. Let’s go, ponies!”

Rarity set herself up by one of the windows. She noted Blow Dry approaching the door and waved a hand at him. “Trixie trapped it, use the windows.” He nodded grimly and obeyed. His eye was swelling pretty badly already. She wondered if the punch had come from Big Mac or Scootaloo. Come to think of it, it may have been Vapor Trail.

Dry peered out the window, lips set in a scowl. “They’ll assume they have the element of surprise.”

“Then let’s take advantage of that.” Taking her own peek, Rarity saw that there were still only six ponies out there. They’d begun dismounting, two to a lizard, and were soon approaching the house among the orchard’s trees. It was unfortunate; they’d have just as much cover as Rarity and Dry did. At least from the front the path would be open, giving Trixie and Vapor plenty to shoot at when the fight started.

The six ponies were still little more than shadows. Rarity settled in a kneeling posture, Silver Lining grasped with both hands. She took low, quiet breaths and kept well away from the window for now. Her pale complexion would have served as a beacon of warning at best. Blow Dry’s pale gray colors and multi-hued mane were better, but only marginally. The world was quiet save for the faint ticking of the clock in the next room.

He risked a look, ducking back quickly. “They’ll be at the treeline in thirty seconds,” he whispered.

She nodded. “Don’t fire until they’re in the open,” she softly replied. “Or we hear fire from the front.”

“Vapor will probably fire first.” At her questioning look, he explained, “Rifle. Longer range.”

A short-barreled rifle, but she understood his point. “I assume Scootaloo is still downstairs. Did they arm her?”

“Yes.” Blow Dry braced after another peek, which Rarity took as the sign that things were about to get loud. “I still can’t believe it, but Vapor gave her a hand cannon. The kick on the thing will probably knock her off her hooves.”

Then they’d best be careful when heading back downstairs. Rarity checked her gun one last time, sucked in a sharp breath…

The first shot came from the front of the house, exactly as Dry predicted. There came panicked shouts and return fire, and under the noise was the relatively faint sound of what Rarity assumed was Trixie’s magic at work.

Even so, Rarity and Dry didn’t open fire. They waited, listening, breathing, staring into one another’s eyes with grim acceptance. More shots and magic from the front.

Then they heard the hoofsteps, and the both of them were standing up. Rarity took the first shot, taking down a mare who was a mere five steps from the door. Blow Dry got another one behind her before the others realized what was happening and began to scramble for cover. Rarity was able to take down two more by the time the last two made it the twenty feet back to the orchard and the safety of its trees.

They finally started returning fire, but Rarity and Blow Dry were already back under cover. “That went way better than I thought it would,” Blow Dry admitted. “Also, Celestia’s mesmerizing tail, are you a good shot.”

Rarity leaped up at a lull in the enemy’s firing to take a few shots, but the last two ponies were making great use of their cover. “Good or not,” she replied after dropping back down, “I’m only one mare.” She swiftly switched cylinders with the smoothness of practice.

Trixie’s call came from the front. “They’re trying to flank us! Somepony support McIntosh!”

“I’ve got this,” Blow Dry declared, emphasizing the claim by taking some shots at the trees. “You go.” Rarity shot him a critical look, still uncertain whether he wouldn’t try to shoot her in the back the moment she stood up or, worse, let the enemy walk right in. “Damn it, go!”

There was no time to argue. She would just have to trust that his concern for Scootaloo would be enough. She abandoned her window and went into the living room. Vapor Trail was reloading while a sweating and panting Trixie fired off bright blue and magenta beams from her horn through the window. Big Mac was at another one to Rarity’s right, his shotgun letting out an ear-ringing retort.

That left the room on her left, a small study. It had a lone window, and the only one on this side of the house. Rarity barely had time to raise her shield before a bullet shattered the glass. It bounced off her barrier and pierced a thick tome on the desk. Rarity retaliated with a beam of magic rather than bullets, which stuck the pony on the other side between the eyes. He cursed and fell back, rubbing at his face.

She retreated back into the room, taking up the door as her new defensive position even as more bullets flew through it. “Big Mac, watch your back!”

He fired a shot, then looked her way. While there wasn’t an easy line of sight to him, it was clear that a stray shot through the study door had a good chance of hitting him. He scowled, fired another shot outside, then stepped aside.

This position was now officially compromised. There was no way to protect the windows and watch one another’s backs at the same time, not with the enemy right at said windows. But Rarity wasn’t out of plans just yet. With a spark of her horn, she placed a shield over Big Mac’s window. “Mr. Apple,” she called over the gunshots, “I could use your assistance!”

With only a cursory glance at her shield, he ran up to her. “I can’t do two shields at once,” she informed him, turning to fire out the study window, through which a stallion had halfway managed to get through. She hit his shoulder, making him retreat with a cry. “But I can give you cover fire. Do you think you can put that desk over the window?”

“Eeyup.” He wasted no time, moving in low under Rarity’s covering shots. Even as this was going on she could feel something impacting the shield behind her, each a tiny whack to her horn. She watched in silent awe as the stallion hefted the entire desk up with barely a grunt of effort and turned it vertical. Rarity stopped firing, and he promptly slammed the desk in the face of another stallion who had tried to take advantage of the lull to lunge at the window.

Between Applejack and him, wasn’t he supposed to be the politician?

“They’re avoiding the front,” Vapor called, holding her rifle at the ready but not firing.

Trixie likewise was no longer casting any spells. She wiped sweat from her brow and turned to face them. “I’m not sure how many are left. I got three.”

“Two,” Vapor contributed, wincing at the sound of something slamming into the overturned desk. Big Mac held it steady with an almost bored ease.

“Shit!” Blow Dry appeared through the door behind Rarity, keeping a bleeding arm close to his chest but still holding his gun. He spoke fast, his teeth grit and alarm in his eyes. “They’re converging on the back, I couldn’t hold them.”

Gunshots arose from the front of the building. Vapor Trail cursed and practically fell away from her window as the frame spat splinters. “They're too close!”

Something slipped through Trixie’s window. It was a grenade. Rarity’s first instinct was to make a magical grab for it, but before she could a magenta aura covered the grenade in a dome. The explosion was effectively contained, though Trixie reeled from the impact it made on her horn. “I d-don’t think we can hold this position any longer,” she cried as Vapor helped her retreat.

“Everypony downstairs,” Rarity barked, pushing Dry down them first. She caught Trixie’s arm before she could follow. Keeping her voice low and ignoring the increasing sting in her own horn, she asked, “Do you think you could trap the stairs?” Big Mac and Vapor were already hurrying down.

The mage shook her head dizzily, blinked, then took on a firm frown. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has not yet begun to fight!” She led the way, legs wobbling but managing to move on her own. Her bravado would have earned either a smile or a roll of the eyes in any other situation.

Rarity dropped her shield from the window and put another one over herself. “I’ll buy you time.”

There was no chance to plan before the enemy was at the windows and firing on her. Rarity’s shielding was prodigious thanks to much practical use, but there were still clear limits and she knew hers were fast approaching. She fired first at the front windows. One pony had certainly been struck, although in the darkness it was impossible to tell how lethal the blow had been. She pivoted to firing at the window behind the stairs, but the pony there ducked away before her shots could connect. A quick glance at the study showed no further breaching attempts.

Every time she changed targets, the others would open fire. Her shield was flashing with continuous impacts and her horn was beginning to throb. Gritting her teeth, she paused to reload and regretted that her position at the top of the stairs offered absolutely no cover.

A high-pitched shriek jerked her attention to the front door, just in time to see a unicorn stallion collapsing on top of legs that were little more than bloody, shredded stumps just above the knees. It was enough to give everypony, attackers included, pause. Rarity swallowed a lump in the back of her throat at the site of the sobbing pony clutching at his amputated limbs in a pool of his own blood. By Luna, she’d thought the mage had been exaggerating! Her ears folded flat against her hat as another, equally horrifying shriek arose from the back door.

Then the gunfire started up again, knocking Rarity back into the fight. Front windows, side window, front again! She kept waiting for somepony to arrive from the back, but oddly nopony did. Maybe they were running out of bodies. Or maybe Trixie’s traps were making them wary. Rarity wouldn’t blame them.

Her horn was practically burning and the shots weren’t letting up. She wasn’t sure how many she’d killed, or even hit, and her bullets wouldn’t last forever. Already, she was adding the last pre-loaded cylinder to Silver Lining. Her reloading would be a lot slower once it was empty. Come on, Trixie, hurry it up!

Something rolled in through the back door. She only barely noticed it out of the corner of her eye. Her first thought was to recognize it as another grenade. Her second thought was to grab it in her magic and toss it back. Just as she was readying to do so, however, the thing went off, mere inches from her shield.

White-hot fire erupted through her horn. The world spun and her knees wobbled. Eyes clenched shut and weapons held in stinging grips, Rarity stumbled backwards, knowing she had seconds before her only defense crumbled. She had to give credit where it was due; whoever rolled that one had been smart enough to pre-cook it to prevent her usual retaliation. “T-Trixie…”

“It’s done,” the mage frantically called. “Get down here, hurry!”

Not needing to be told twice, Rarity bumbled her way down the steps, fighting through the pain to maintain her focus and reshape her shield to a curved wall at her back that would fit down the stairs. Twice she almost fell, her vision blurry and still rolling. “I hope you’ve got something g-good,” she slurred at the blue and red blobs below, “because I think I need a nap.”

The blue blob – Trixie, she realized – made a motion that Rarity thought was a raise of the hands. “Jump the last five steps.”

“I-I can barely stand, and you want me to jump?”

The red blob was almost certainly Big McIntosh. He moved closer. “I’ll catch you, Miss Belle.”

“Touch me and I will blow both your heads off.” Rarity blinked, abruptly uncertain of herself. “Oh, dear. Did I s-say that out loud?” Big Mac backed away. Very quickly.

“Luna’s star-studded flanks, we don’t have time for this!” Trixie’s horn lit, and before Rarity knew it she was flung down the stairs by a magical pull. She hit the floor on her knees, sliding along a few feet before rolling onto her side. She lay there, staring at the ceiling and thanking Celestia that it was at least keeping still.

“Oh, Goddess, Rarity! Are you alright?” Scootaloo was there, looking her in the eyes. Before a response could be offered the filly took one of Rarity’s arms, Vapor Trail appearing for the other, and the two dragged her backwards into a nearby bedroom. Blow Dry was standing by the door, still holding his bloody arm close while keeping his revolver at the ready.

“I’ll be fine,” Rarity replied as they helped her sit against the bed’s footrest. “Just… had the wind knocked out of me. Give me a minute and I’ll be back at it.” She tenderly touched her horn, flinching at the burning sensation that was produced. “Don’t think I’ll be making anymore shields tonight though. My apologies.”

Vapor leaned in close. Worry in her eyes, she asked, “Did you just threaten to shoot my Mackey?”

“I apologize again.” Groaning, Rarity focused on reloading some of Silver Lining’s now-empty cylinders. It was slow going, given her trembling hands. “I have a thing about ponies touching me. Especially stallions.”

“He was trying to help you!”

“I am aware,” she bit back testily. “You’ll find it’s hard to think straight when you just had a grenade explode in your face.” Vapor Trail offered no other criticisms, perhaps due to the acid on Rarity’s tongue.

Blow Dry’s sharp tone interrupted the momentary silence. “Trixie, get back.” The mage was standing in the door of the opposite bedroom, one hand on her hip and the other raised as if to snap her fingers.

She appeared not the least afraid of whatever threats might come from the stairs. Sparing them a high-browed, haughty glance, she gave a curt “Stay back” and remained as she was even as slow, cautious hoofsteps began to close in. Her attention on whoever was approaching, she commandingly declared, “I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you.”

The hoofsteps paused. But only for a moment.

“As you wish.” She snapped her fingers.

Then the screaming started, hideous wails that had a horrified Vapor Trail covering a wide-eyed Scootaloo’s ears. Blow Dry glanced through the doorway and became visibly green. Trixie stared on coolly, almost as if bored.

Morbid curiosity pulled Rarity to her steadied hooves. Ignoring Blow Dry’s fervent gestures to stay back, she stepped right into the hallway. She nearly dropped her weapons at the sight of three ponies lying on the floor, squirming and howling and whimpering. Ivory protrusions poked out of their legs at the knees, blood seeping out where they had burst from the skin. One stallion had fallen directly on the steps, and now he had the same hideous growths coming out of his elbows, his palms, his hooves, even the joints and tips of his fingers.

Stumbling back at the hideous sight, she fought the urge to vomit. “W-wha—? W-what did—? What did you…?”

She looked to Trixie, and only now realized that the mare wasn’t near as unaffected as she was trying to appear. Her face was pale, and despite the collected expression there was a wild alarm in her eyes. Licking her lips, Trixie hoarsely answered, “Centuries old prototype bone growth enchantment. I-it was meant to aid in healing, but as you can see it has… kinks.” She met Rarity’s gaping stare, taking a few carefully controlled, deep breaths as she did. “I didn’t think it would be that bad. I just thought it would paralyze them a bit.”

Big McIntosh had gotten into the hallway at some point. He had been staring at the still-living victims of Trixie’s trap, but now he turned to the mage. His eyes flashed with disgust. “Stop the spell.”

Trixie hesitated, her horn beginning to shine… but then it dimmed. Pursing her lips, she met his gaze. “No.”

He took a threatening step closer. “Stop the spell.” His looming presence was punctuated by the whimpering and sobs of the ponies on the stairs. Rarity couldn’t resist another look, horrified to see that their bones were somehow still growing.

Yet Trixie stood tall. She glared at the stairs and spoke loudly so that anypony above would hear. “The spell stops when they leave! If these ponies want us that badly then this is the price they’ll have to pay. I do not bluff, and I do not back down.”

Big McIntosh's arms tensed, their muscles bulging. Yet Rarity understood Trixie’s rationale and did not disagree with it. Even so, she pulled herself up, fought back the sick threatening to rise up her esophagus, and spoke. “At least get those three away from the trap. They’re clearly not a threat anymore.”

The mage cringed and nodded, using her magic to pull the three ponies down into the hall. The two with injured legs wept from the pain of the motion. The third one could only whimper quietly. Rarity realized with no small amount of horror that the stallion’s ribs were beginning to poke out of his sides. How he was still alive she couldn’t imagine, and she didn’t want to imagine how much pain he was in. Perhaps it would be best to shoot him now and be done with it. For now she could only watch in quiet horror as Trixie levitated the three of them into another room, perhaps so that Scootaloo might be saved from witnessing such hideousness.

Silence followed. Rarity and her companions waited, impatient to see what their attackers upstairs might try next. Big McIntosh kept in the doorway next to Trixie, shotgun in hand and appearing all the more tense for it. A grim-faced Trixie remained in the open with Rarity, mumbling self-recriminations and fiddling with the edge of her cloak with trembling fingers. There was no sign of Vapor Trail or Scootaloo in their room, but Blow Dry was still peering from the door, ready for a fight.

Just when Rarity started to wonder if their attackers were even still upstairs – or that perhaps those three on the stairs had been the last of them – there came heavy footfalls on the floor above. The crack of breaking wood, the crash of shattering glass, the screeching of objects being moved. The defenders shared uncertain looks, all wondering what the ponies upstairs were up to.

This went on for nearly five minutes before the quiet came back. It lingered, a phantom of stress and anticipation that kept everypony on alert. Seconds turned to minutes, and still there was no indication of a continued presence upstairs.

Blow Dry sniffed and leaned a little further out in the hallway. He spoke in hushed, cautious tones. “Is there any way you can scry to figure out what’s going on up there?”

Trixie, her eyes on the ceiling, matched his whisper. “Best I have is a detect life spell. Only tells me where they are, not what they’re doing.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Rarity informed her. “I suggest you do it.”

Trixie frowned and glanced at Big McIntosh, who nodded. Pursing her lips, she lit up her horn. “I don’t think I’ll be able to cast many more spells. We’ve already gone through most of my reservoir.” She then closed her eyes and concentrated, the magenta glow of her aura swirling and twisting along her horn. She did this for only a few seconds before the horn winked out. Perplexity showed in her eyes when she opened them. “There’s nopony up there.”

Another exchange of curious looks. “So they left?” Blow Dry asked, his disbelief apparent.

“I don’t know.” Trixie’s ears folded back as she pondered, her own lack of faith equally clear. “The spell doesn’t reach very far. If they were standing outside waiting for us they’d probably be outside its range.”

“So they might be preparing an ambush,” Rarity surmised with a grimace.

Scootaloo chose that moment to poke her head through the door by Blow Dry. “Uh, not to alarm anypony, but it’s getting really hot in here.”

Another startled exchange of looks, and then every pony hurried into the room. Vapor Trail was hovering over the bed, her wings holding her aloft as she felt with her hands at the ceiling. She turned to everypony and, tremulously, declared, “I think they set the bedroom above us on fire. They’re trying to burn us out.”

And if they tried to leave, the cretins would be outside waiting for them. Not a pony had to voice this, it was as obvious as could be. Rarity was at a loss. She couldn’t possibly cast a shield now, much less maintain one for long enough to stop an ambush. If any of the others tried to flee, they wouldn’t last five seconds. She cast her gaze about the faces all around her, hoping for some ideas to be forthcoming.

“Come on.” Scootaloo tugged at Rarity’s sleeve, hope and a little concern in her words. “You’re the Bulletproof Heart. You’re not gonna let a little fire stop you, right?”

Rarity met those big eyes and felt a vice crunching her heart to a pulp. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, turning her face away. “My abilities can only carry us so far.” Her eyes landed on Vapor Trail. Or more specifically, Vapor Trail’s wings. A sudden idea struck. “Vapor, have you ever done weather work?”

Vapor landed beside the bed as she answered. “Weather work? No. I mean, I can create a little wind now and then, but rain’s right out.”

“A little wind might be all we need.” She spun to Trixie who, unlike the worried and confused expressions of the others, was watching Rarity as though expecting instructions. She found the look to be reassuring. “Disenchant the stairs, if you please. We’ll need to fight our way out of this.”

The mage nodded and turned for the door. “It’ll take me a minute. This isn’t the kind of magic you can just ‘turn off’.”

While she was doing that, Rarity turned her attention to Blow Dry. “Check on our three prisoners. They’ve suffered enough, no point making them burn too.”

“Got it.” Though he did not appear to relish his role, he threw a lazy salute and went to do as he was told.

“Big McIntosh, if you’ve got something with better range than that shotgun, now might be a good time to switch to it.”

“Eeyup.” He left the room just as quickly as the others.

Scootaloo took a step forward, her wings spread wide and determination on her puffed up cheeks. “What about me?”

Rarity eyed the filly, her first instinct being to tell her to do nothing. Then she realized how that might sound and decided a more… ‘tactful’ approach was in order. “You still have that hand cannon?” The filly reached behind her back and pulled out a handgun so large that Rarity had to agree with Blow Dry’s earlier conclusions; the kickback alone would probably send the filly sprawling. She showed good restraint with it as well, keeping the weapon pointed at the floor and her finger off the trigger, which suggested at least a modicum of experience or knowledge.

Nodding at this development, Rarity declared, “You are our backup. If anything goes wrong, it’s on you to make it right. Am I clear?”

“As mud.” The filly offered a toothy grin. “But I get the idea.”

Rarity grinned right back, even though she felt like scowling. With one last look at a concerned Vapor Trail and a check to ensure her guns were fully reloaded and ready, she turned for the door. “Alright, let’s go.”

Big McIntosh met them in the hall, shotgun strapped to his back and a more traditional rifle in his meaty hands. It looked like a toy compared to his bulk, but she preferred to imagine he wouldn’t have picked it if he couldn’t use it. They started down the hall just in time to spot Blow Dry walking out the room close to the stairs, quietly closing the door behind him. He met Rarity’s gaze with a forlorn but firm look. It was all she needed to see to know their three prisoners wouldn’t be joining them.

One of them she could understand. The other two? Questioning him about it would have to wait until later, but she did have questions.

Trixie was by the stairs and already turning to them. Her forehead was beaded with sweat yet again and she looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. “Trap’s gone,” she proudly declared to Rarity’s questioning look. “I suggest somepony else take point. I need to conserve what little of my reservoir I have left.” Rarity didn’t break stride as she walked by.

The top of the stairs were blocked by something large and heavy. Despite awkwardly pushing at it from below, Big Mac was able to shift it aside with some ease. Not enough to remove it entirely, but enough that he could squeeze past. He didn’t, allowing Rarity to go first at her insistence.

The object blocking the stairs had been a bookcase, carefully moved such that the books were still on its shelves. Smoke was beginning to drift out of the bedroom, accompanied by the distinct crackle of fire. Rarity swiveled to point her guns at every potential direction of attack. None came, so she gestured the others up. A quick glance through the bedroom door saw that the bed was an inferno, yet the fire hadn’t spread very far beyond it. As far as she could tell, it was the only fire in the house, although the furniture and decorations had been smashed and scattered about. Perhaps their attackers were hoping the mess would accelerate the flames?

“Trixie?”

“I got it,” the unicorn declared, swiftly moving for the front wall. She was aware enough to stay low and avoid both the windows and the door. Her horn flashed for all of two seconds, then she turned back to them with a grimace. “Five of them within detection range, all waiting in the orchard.” A pause as she gained an uncertain expression. “Two of them were… Oh, right. Our lizards are out there too. So make that three of them.”

“Alright, then. If you could—” Big McIntosh appeared out the back room, stoic as ever. “Oh, good. Anypony back there?”

“Nnnope.” The stallion hefted his rifle and glared towards the front door. “Back’s clear. Looks like the three out front are all that’s left.”

So their plan had been to trap them downstairs, set the house alight and hope they all burned. It might even have worked had they accounted for Big McIntosh’s exceptional strength. The fire likely wasn’t spreading as fast as they’d hoped either. Perhaps they were inexperienced, or just in too much of a rush. They had lost a lot of allies, and Trixie's gruesome trap had to have had a psychological effect. Maybe they were getting desperate.

One thing was certain: they’d regret sticking around. “Trixie, do you think you can produce a shield around the blaze?”

“As long as nopony tries to shoot said shield, yes.” The mage walked up to the bedroom door, analyzing the crackling fire critically. “Starve it of oxygen?”

“Got it in one, darling. Vapor, if you could generate some wind to keep Trixie cool while she’s working so close to the blaze, it would be appreciated.”

Vapor Trail, who had spent the last several minutes holding Scootaloo close and looking lost, snapped to attention. “I-is that all? Yeah, I can do that.”

“Wonderful.” One problem solved, and relatively easily. Rarity turned her attention to the stallions. “While they deal with the fire, McIntosh and I will go out back and flank the remaining enemies. Scootaloo, Blow Dry, you two stay here in case things go wrong.”

Scootaloo’s wings spread wide as she took on a fierce look, or as fierce a look as a foal her age could pull off. “I want to help.”

“You are helping,” Rarity smoothly countered. “Just because Trixie detected three doesn’t mean there aren’t more further afield or reinforcements coming. If Big Mac and I need to retreat, we’ll need you to cover us.”

Scootaloo scowled, clearly not pleased with this role. Just as it looked like she might object, Big McIntosh spoke up. “Somepony needs to protect your sister.”

That gave the child pause. She looked to the bedroom, where already a magenta shield was covering the fire. Trixie stood just within the door, eyes narrowed in concentration and horn glowing dimly. Her pale mane rustled in the faint breeze being blown by Vapor Trail’s slowly flapping wings. Scootaloo watched this for a couple seconds, then looked at Blow Dry.

The stallion was by the windows, appearing ready for a fight. He didn’t notice the fierce gaze of the foal, or the way her hands clenched around her weapon. Rarity could see the gears turning in those sharp eyes, carefully weighing how much Blow Dry could be trusted. With a final huff, she nodded firmly to Rarity and went to stand guard near Vapor Trail.

Glad things appeared to be settled, Rarity gestured to Big McIntosh and the two of them hurried out the back and into the cool night, making sure to use the windows lest Trixie’s trap was still active. The area didn't have near as many bodies as she'd imagined, but they were still there to add to the morbidity. He gestured, and she nodded; the two went their separate ways, Rarity moving around the west side of the house and him the east. She kept to the orchard, the better to hide among the trees. There was no question their attackers would be focused on the house, so circling wide would almost certainly go unnoticed. Her one great worry was that she might run into more armed ponies that had been hiding beyond Trixie’s detection range. That and her white coat standing out in the dark.

It was remarkably calm out here. So much so, one would be forgiven for not knowing anything was amiss. A cloudy sky obscured the moon, making stealth even easier, and her ears were soothed by the gently lapping waves in the near distance. Even the house seemed perfectly normal, the fire not visible from this angle and the smoke blending in with the darkness. Were it not for the odious recent memories, Rarity might have mistaken this for a pleasant nighttime stroll.

Flitting from tree to tree for cover made the trip take longer, but eventually she rounded the house and began to approach the front. Unlike her, the remaining attackers made no attempt to hide their presence. Or rather, they were, but only from anypony that might look at them from the house. From any other direction they were so obvious they might as well have cast glow spells upon themselves. They were spread wide amongst the trees, weapons out and ready to ambush anypony who exited out the front door.

Once again, Rarity questioned their competence. Had they entirely forgotten that there was a back entrance? Had they even realized that their targets were no longer trapped underground? Rarity sneaked closer, noting that Ophelia and Princess were situated behind the ponies. The former raised her head to look in Rarity’s direction, frill opening and closing in slow motions.

That’s right, my sweet, I see you. Do try not to give my presence away to the bad ponies, would you?

Ophelia watched her approach for a time, but then turned her head forward. She was gazing at the center pony among the attackers, an earth pony mare. She sunk low, frills fanning out, and flexed her shoulders. Rarity had never seen that behavior in Ophelia before, but knew enough about lizards to understand what was coming.

Princess didn’t even bother to wake up. Well, she was a rental.

By now Rarity was close enough that when the pony nearest her started speaking she heard him loud and clear. “I don’t think it’s burning.”

The mare in the middle didn’t look his way, which was fortunate for Rarity. “Yeah, that house should be an inferno. What gives?”

“M-maybe we should get out of here.”

“We can’t go back. We have to finish the mission.”

“Are you kidding me? Did you see what that mage did?”

“Of course I saw, but what do you think they’ll do to us if we come back empty-handed?”

“So we run away. Get the hay away from Manehattan. We’re small fry, they won’t come looking.”

“You really want to take that risk?”

“Better than facing the Bulletproof Heart and some psychopathic mage!”

“I… Okay, yeah. You’re right.”

“Of course I am!”

“What do you think, Indigo? …Indigo?”

The mare looked to her right, and Rarity took the opportunity to pistol-whip the stallion. He collapsed like a puppet with the strings cut. She was surprised she’d managed to out him with one blow like that.

“Shit, I think Indigo turned tail. We should—” The mare turned to discover Rarity standing over the stallion. She winked at her, Ruby Heart aimed for the chest. She’d expected many things.

For the mare to start crying was not one of them. She dropped her gun and threw her hands up. “I’m sorry! P-please don’t kill me!”

Rarity barely had time to blink before Ophelia was on the mare, tackling her to the ground in a single bound. “Ophelia, no!”

For only a second, Rarity feared her usually docile and pleasant mount had turned lethal in her owner’s defense. Then she saw, with no small relief, that Ophelia was doing nothing more than pinning the sobbing, shivering mare to the ground with a lone foot on her chest. The lizard stared balefully down at the pony, then offered Rarity her usual toothy, charming smile.

With a relieved sigh, Rarity holstered her weapon and approached. “A little over-enthusiastic, but well done, Ophelia. Truly, you are the best lizard a girl could ask for.” She scratched under the lizard’s frills, rewarded in turn with a pleasant trill.

Big McIntosh appeared from the shadows a few seconds later, an unconscious earth pony mare limp over his shoulder. “Hello, Mr. Apple. I trust you didn’t run into any problems?”

“Nnnope.”

“Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me,” the mare under Ophelia practically chanted, her eyes clenched shut and fingers tugging futilely on the lizard’s talons.

Casually kicking the mare’s pistol away, Rarity knelt next to her. “Hush, now. We’re not going to kill you. In fact, I imagine Mr. Apple here will be perfectly happy with some leniency should you agree to tell us what you know about this little raid of yours.”

“Y-yes, yes! I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, just get it off me!”

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. That’s my job.” Rarity stood and gave Ophelia a hug around the neck, grinning all the while. “My sweet little dust devil wouldn’t harm a fly.”

The mare gestured incredulously to where the tips of Ophelia’s sharp talons were. “I’m bleeding!”

Indeed, but only a little. “Incidental,” Rarity primly countered, rubbing Ophelia’s frills lovingly. “It’s a few nicks. Come to me when you need a bullet removed and then we’ll talk.” She then looked past the lizard to Big McIntosh. “If you’d be so kind as to deal with this, I’ll go let our friends know that the worst is over.”

The massive stallion dropped Indigo. He wasn’t gentle about it. “Eeyup.”

Blow Dry spotted her approach. Though he tried to be stoic about it, he couldn’t quite hide his relief. “All clear?” he called out the window.

“All clear,” she replied, pausing a few feet away from the front door. Her eyes were set upon the bloody form of the pony who had fallen for Trixie’s trap, a pony who had clearly bled out. Such a gruesome scene had her biting her lip in sympathy. She’d passed several bodies already on the way over here, but none of them evoked her sympathy quite like that one. She didn’t care what the pony had done, they didn’t deserve to go out like that. She elected to climb in through a window instead.

On the inside, she adjusted her shirt and jeans, checked her hat and mane, and took in the situation. Trixie was sitting atop an overturned bookshelf, looking weary and perhaps a bit singed, but proud. Vapor sat beside her, her exhaustion seeming less physical and more mental. Scootaloo remained before them, still playing the part of the attentive guardian with her hand cannon aimed at the floor and her face set in a scowl.

“I take it the fire has been dealt with?” Rarity asked expectantly.

Trixie nodded with a weary wave. “Was there ever any doubt?” She thrust a thumb at Vapor Trail. “All credit and gratitude to this mare, who is the only reason I didn’t boil alive in there.”

Vapor offered only a worn smile in response, but then frowned as her eyes darted around the room. “Where’s Mackey?”

Rarity couldn’t resist a smile at what she imagined was a pet name. “He’s fine. Just making sure the last of our guests are being entertained. We got three live ones, you see, and I’ve no doubt he’s making sure they’re prepared to tell him all they know about who sponsored this… soirée.”

Blow Dry looked up from where he’d been sitting by the window. “So we’re done?”

Scootaloo piped in with a hopeful, “It’s over?”

She didn't bother to stifle her long yawn. Too much effort. “We’re done, and it’s over.” She cast a wane look at their cluttered surroundings and heaved a sigh. “Although I suppose some cleanup is in order.”

“That can wait,” Scootaloo declared. Rarity paused at the dark tone. “There’s still one more thing to deal with.”

She promptly pointed her hand cannon at Blow Dry.

“Whoa, whoa! Kid. Hey.” Wide-eyed, he tried to raise his hand only to flinch and pull the wounded arm close to his chest. “What are you doing?”

Vapor Trail half stood, ears perked and wings flaring out. “Scootaloo, put the gun down.”

“He was going to kill you.” The filly’s words were as cold as night in the Frozen North. “He pretended to be my friend for all that time. He’s one of them.”

Blow Dry sent Rarity a pleading look. She stepped away from him, more to stay out of the line of fire than anything. What did he expect her to do, draw on a filly? Seeing no help in her direction, he carefully stood up and faced the gun, keeping his own pointed well away from Scootaloo. “Look. Kid. I get it, you’re mad. I swear, I was trying to get you out.”

“Get me out?” Tears welled in the filly’s face, the gun shaking in her hands. “Vapor is the only family I had for my entire life. What were you going to do after, try taking her place? I trusted you, I thought you were cool!” She sniffed, rubbing her nose against her shoulder. Though filled with tears, her eyes burned with menace. “You made a fool out of me.”

“I… It was a job. It’s what I was hired to do. I—” Abruptly realizing he was still holding his pistol, he dropped the weapon and raised his hand high. “Look, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t say that!” Scootaloo’s tiny wings flared and she took a threatening step closer. Vapor Trail flinched as if expecting a shot. Trixie was watching the scene with a sharp, attentive gaze. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t tell me you’re sorry. You’re only sorry because you got caught!”

Despite knowing she had no place in this ‘argument’, Rarity couldn’t help thinking an important point needed to be addressed. “If I may—”

Without taking her fierce glare off Blow Dry, Scootaloo hissed, “Don’t you dare try to take his side.”

“If I may,” she repeated, turning her attention to the stallion. “I feel that there’s one question in desperate need of an answer: do you or do you not, in fact, like Scootaloo?”

Scootaloo’s ears perked. She didn’t lower the gun, but she did hold her breath.

Blow Dry looked at Rarity with perhaps the most open expression of emotion he’d yet to display. It could be only described as sorrow. He tried to face Scootaloo, but seemed unable to meet her eyes. “Yeah, I do. At first it was just a job, and so were you. But, uh…” He swallowed and turned his face away, as if ashamed. “You grew on me, kid.”

“Stop calling me that,” the filly spat. “You don’t get to act so familiar with me.” Still the hand cannon remained poised. “If you cared so much, why go through with this?”

“Because I don’t back down on jobs,” he replied immediately, not an ounce of remorse in his words. “No matter how uncomfortable they make me. I gave my word I’d get this done. I do not go back on my word.” He finally met Scootaloo’s gaze, all uncertainty and fear gone. “I told your sister and McIntosh I’d protect you. And I did, didn’t I?”

For a moment, Scootaloo considered that statement. Rarity thought that perhaps the filly was starting to show doubts.

And then Trixie, her voice level and hard, spoke. “So by that logic, you’re still obligated to try and kill Big McIntosh and Vapor Trail.”

Vapor Trail gaped at the mare in much the same way Rarity was glaring. Was she trying to inflame the situation? Even now, Scootaloo was hardening her stance. So much so that the hammer of the hand cannon cocked.

Blow Dry certainly took notice, his posture stiffening as he took a careful step towards the door. “I-I don’t think I can do that job anymore even if I wanted to. My employer knows I’m compromised.” When Scootaloo didn’t ease off, real panic began to form on his features. “Scootaloo, please. I swear, this is the hardest job I ever had. I didn’t want to. I was under a lot of pressure.” Another step.

“Trap,” Rarity warned. He glanced at her, then at the shredded body on the floor. His face went pale as he sidled away from the door.

“Ah, right. Forgot about that,” Trixie noted in a tone that suggested she hadn’t. Cringing, she created a flash of light from her horn. There came the audible sound of something akin to glass cracking. “There, it’s gone.” Rarity had the ominous feeling that she couldn’t trust that statement.

All was still. Scootaloo trembled and quaked and sucked in slow, heavy breaths, but her aim was unwavering. Vapor looked as though she wanted to take the gun away but didn’t dare move, whereas Blow Dry looked desperate to start running but also feared what might happen if he tried. To his credit, he never took his eyes off Scootaloo’s.

But what really had Rarity’s attention was Trixie. She looked like a pony on the hunt. It was anger, but a carefully leashed and prepared anger, made all the more menacing by the cold intent of it. It was the calculated look of a mare both unforgiving and wrathful, and it put Rarity’s every nerve on edge. Scootaloo might be the immediate threat, but if Blow Dry survived this night then he could expect to be in danger of the mage for the rest of his days.

Her careful scrutiny was interrupted by Scootaloo. She spoke with words both low and threatening. “I can’t let this go. You tried to kill my sister. I have to protect her.”

Blow Dry’s ears folded back. Slowly, he let his hand fall. “Yeah,” he sighed. “I suppose so.” Then he offered a frail smile. “Do what you gotta do, kid.”

So much for this situation untangling itself. Rarity, knowing she had very little influence on these events, nevertheless felt the urge to offer one heartfelt argument. “Scootaloo?”

The filly didn’t respond at first, so intensely focused on the stallion as she was. But then her eyes twitched Rarity’s way. “What?”

Rarity met her gaze with as level and commanding a look as she could muster. “From one who knows: it won’t make the pain hurt any less.”

It had been a shot in the dark. Wholly honest, to be certain, but Rarity lacked any faith that it would matter against the filly’s righteous anger. And yet there was a clear and present change in Scootaloo’s eyes, a distinct awareness of what she was threatening to do. To Rarity’s relief, she could see for the first time that the filly was genuinely and carefully considering options other than just shooting Blow Dry down.

Ears twitched, eyebrows rose and fell, fingers trembled. After a seeming eternity of tightly wound tension, Scootaloo closed her eyes and, with a well-practiced thumb, uncocked the hand cannon’s hammer. Lowering the weapon, she muttered a toneless, “Get out of here, Dry.”

Blow Dry’s expression was a chaotic mess of relief and agony. He opened his mouth, perhaps to offer thanks or reassurance. Vapor Trail raised a silencing palm. Trixie’s eyes narrowed sharply, and there might have been a crackle of electricity between her fingers. The two combined were more than enough to make him reconsider that course of action. With a final sigh, he nodded, removed his loaned and nearly-spent ammo belt, grabbed his revolver, and left by climbing out a window. Just before leaving from view entirely, he turned and offered Rarity a respectful nod.

The moment he was gone, Scootaloo dropped her gun and practically threw herself into Vapor Trail, hugging her close. The filly didn’t sob, but there was no disguising her tears.

Before anything else could be said, Rarity looked to Trixie. “So is the trap…?” She gestured to the door.

“Hmm? Oh.” Trixie had been glaring at the window, but paused to consider the door with a scowl. “Right. Yes, it’s gone. I just didn’t want him to know for sure.”

“Then I propose we get these bodies out of here.” Rarity barely repressed a shiver upon looking at the bloody mess on the doorstop. That poor pony, to say nothing of the ones downstairs. “I for one do not wish to sleep in the same house as a bunch of corpses.”

At that the mage visibly deflated, all anger and confidence vacated in a long and weary sigh. “Fair enough,” she agreed. “Let’s hurry it up. Trixie would like to at least try to get some sleep.”

Vapor Trail, still holding the inconsolable Scootaloo close, perked her ears. “You honestly think you’ll be able to sleep after tonight?”

“No,” Trixie groaned, “but I intend to at least try.”

The Mage

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It was nearly noon by the time Rarity dragged herself out of bed, and even then she’d only gotten perhaps four hours of sleep. They’d taken time to bury the bodies. It had been hard work made all the worse by how weary everypony was, but Rarity hadn’t minded. It wasn’t often she got the luxury of respecting the dead.

The nightmares hadn’t been so bad. Well, yes, they’d been bad, but Rarity was relieved to have them. They clarified that she wasn’t as desensitized as she sometimes feared.

Paranoia drove her to check on the others. The three living attackers had been tied up in a cupboard closet, which itself had been both locked and blocked off from the rest of the house by a pile of ruined furniture. Rarity couldn’t move the furniture on her own, but everything still appeared as it had last night so she assumed they were still in there.

Trixie was still piled up in her own guest bed, the one under which the fire had been started. Judging by the snoring, she wasn’t likely to crawl out of her cottony cocoon any time soon. In the room opposite them – the one Blow Dry had been using last night – she saw Big Mcintosh and Scootaloo. The filly was sleeping on top of the stallion, being small enough in comparison to his bulk to lay entirely on his chest and stomach. Her whole body rose and fell with his heavy breaths, and her ear was pressed firmly against his heart. It was a touching scene, but also a mysterious one; where was Vapor Trail?

Rarity found the mare sitting on a chair out the back door, roasting carrots over a fire. It was probably the best she could do given the state of the kitchen. Looking up from her work revealed heavy bags beneath bloodshot eyes, a mane made wild by lack of attention, and the slumped posture of someone who desperately longed for sleep.

Rarity settled in the chair beside her. “Forgive me, dear, but you look a mess. Did you get any sleep at all last night?”

“No,” the pegasus bluntly replied. Though she tried to take on a more relaxed pose, her wingtips kept twitching. Rarity’s sharp eye drifted over the tension in the mare’s arms and legs. “I keep thinking about what almost happened last night. I can’t thank you or Trixie enough for being there. I don’t think we’d have survived the attack otherwise.”

And had I not felt the need to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, we all might have died anyway. Casting that thought aside, Rarity instead answered, “You should be thanking Scootaloo. She’s the one who ignored the instructions of every authority figure telling her that you were perfectly safe and dragged both Trixie and myself into this.” She tactfully ignored the fact that it was that very stubbornness that led to the attackers finding them out here in the first place.

Vapor Trail stared at the blue, slightly cloudy sky, completely devoid of energy. “She’s still asleep, then?”

“Wrapped around Big McIntosh’s chest as though he were a teddy bear.”

“She hasn’t done that with me since she was very little,” Vapor wistfully noted, her smile frail. “She must feel safe with him.” She closed her eyes with a heavy sigh. “That’s good. I was worried about whether she was really accepting of him in our life.”

Though her magic was still weak from last night’s abuse, Rarity now had more than enough to rotate the carrots over the fire. “Blow Dry suggested that she clung to him because she felt like you were ignoring her.”

Vapor’s frown grew a little more pronounced. She didn’t stop staring at the sky. “I’m in love. Mackey’s a busy stallion with an important job, so I tend to cling to him whenever he makes time for me. I knew Scootaloo was unhappy with that, but I figured she’s grown enough to at least understand. Besides, I thought…” Her ears folded back as she clasped her hands together. “I thought having a male role model around would be good for her. Be it Mackey or Blow Dry, whatever worked.”

What was going through the mare’s mind? Rarity had a suspicion. “Nopony can blame you,” she offered. “Blow Dry made his own decisions.”

“It’s not that.” With a groan, the pegasus sat up and rubbed at her eyes, then reached for one of the carrot-holding sticks. She eyed the root thoughtfully, testing its heat with her fingers. “To be honest, I’m not even upset about Blow Dry. Sure, he betrayed us, but I also fully believe that he came to be fond of Scootaloo. I can’t imagine how hard a position that had put him in.”

A respectable position, or so Rarity felt. Following the mare’s lead, she plucked the second stick from the fire and pulled a carrot off it with her magic. “I doubt that your sister will be so forgiving.”

Vapor took a large bite out of her carrot, not bothering to take it off the stick. She pivoted to look at the house behind them. Apparently not seeing anything untoward, she turned forward and blandly announced, “She’s not my sister.”

Oh? Rarity was very much surprised that Vapor was willing to admit to something that she apparently didn’t want others overhearing. “You mean she’s adopted?”

“No.” Vapor’s face was set in an unhappy, forlorn stare as she took another slow bite of her carrot. She chewed just as slowly, perhaps taking the opportunity to consider how much to say. When she finally swallowed, she spoke in a hollow voice. “I mean that the day my parents died is also the day Scootaloo was conceived.”

She said nothing else. There was no need. Rarity’s sharp mind was already putting the puzzle pieces together, and they created a horrifying picture. That of a filly traveling the width and breadth of Equestria with her merchant parents. Parents who most likely died protecting her during a bandit raid. And what are a bunch of heartless bandits to do with a defenseless filly?

Not taking her eyes off her carrot, Rarity quietly asked, “How old were you?”

Vapor sucked in a long breath through her nose. Then another. After the third, she whispered, “Eleven.”

Rarity felt numb. What kind of brutes could do something like that to an eleven-year-old? And then she bore the results to fruition, creating the lively bundle of fur and feathers that was today known as Scootaloo. Not even a teenager, and already… “Does she know?”

“No.” Clutching the carrot-stick as if it was the only thing keeping her from breaking down, Vapor shuddered. “I don’t know if I’ll ever tell her. I love her so much, how could I shatter her by explaining how she came into this world? That’s too much for anypony, let alone a filly her age.”

No argument could be offered. Rarity was at a loss for what to say, partially because she was wondering if there was any way to find the bastard responsible for all this and put a bullet in him. On top of that was confusion. “Why tell me something so personal?”

“I don’t know,” Vapor confessed. Nibbling on her carrot and staring into the fire, she thoughtfully continued, “I think it’s just that… I don’t know. After everything that happened last night, I think I just needed to tell somepony.” Tears welled in her eyes. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you? Maybe I was hoping you’d understand and… And not…”

Rarity reached over to grasp the mare’s arm. When Vapor met her gaze, she offered her most comforting smile. It was important that the mare see no judgment, no condemnation, and all the support she could muster. For she remembered what it was like to be the target of unwanted, even repulsive advances. She remembered, and she understood. So when Vapor Trail let her tears flow freely and pulled Rarity in for an awkward hug, she offered no protests.

They didn’t hold the embrace for very long, owing mostly to the discomforting position that it created with them atop their chairs. Once they did separate however, Rarity made sure to scoot hers a little closer. As they remained side by side, quietly eating the rest of their individual carrots, she felt a certain comfort born from finally being with somepony who understood. Perhaps this moment was as therapeutic to her as it was to Vapor. It was a remarkably freeing sensation.

Yet the heavy topics weren’t quite over, so once she had her second carrot in hand and a couple fresh ones over the fire, she asked, “Does McIntosh know?”

Vapor nodded, and this time her smile was warm. “I told him before I said ‘yes’. I couldn’t bring myself to marry him otherwise. He took it so well. I cried more for that than the ring he was slipping on my finger.”

Rarity grinned and gave the mare another one-armed hug. “Well, it seems like Scootaloo will get that good male role model after all.” The two shared a warm smile, and Rarity felt confident that things were going to be alright for the mare and her family.

“Is that food? Please tell me that’s food.” Trixie stumbled out of the house. Mane akimbo beneath her felt hat and one hand rubbing at an eye, she seemed not to care that she was still in her star-spangled pajamas. “I could eat my own weight in peanut butter and crackers right now.”

It was decided, for perfectly obvious reasons, that the Apples wouldn’t be staying another day at the vacation home. To that end Vapor Trail flew to the city to procure a wagon. She’d promised to return with the Manehattan Guard so that the three ponies could be properly detained and questioned, although Big Mac had subtly insinuated he knew who was responsible. Though he never named names, Rarity gathered it had been a rival agricultural family.

Scootaloo hadn’t been exaggerating when she said Manehattan took the concept of ‘cutthroat politics’ literally, but Big McIntosh reiterated that this was an unusual case. Enough so that the Manehattan Guard would have no choice but to get involved and do a proper investigation. The other families would no doubt turn on the one responsible, even those that might quietly have supported it. Maintaining public perception was a priority, and the common ponies would be very uncomfortable if they feared another inter-family war like the Apple Incident was on the way.

The only catch in all this was Trixie. Being under house arrest meant some ponies in the Guard would have… questions for her. She was very eager to be away from that vacation house before said Guard showed up. Seeing as Rarity had the only available dust devil (Blow Dry having taken Princess) and was owed Trixie’s services, she agreed to ride the mage back to the Arcaenum.

Scootaloo caught them as they were preparing to leave. “Rarity! You’ll come visit sometime, won’t you?”

Rarity felt no need to think on the matter. “I imagine this isn’t the last time I’ll be visiting Manehattan,” she declared, relishing the filly’s grin. “As long as you keep that wicked matriarch of the Apple Family away from me, I see no reason not to visit.”

Wings fluttering, Scootaloo smirked. “Why do I get the feeling you’re only faking not liking her?”

Making sure to wear her most put-upon manner, she rewarded that with the only suitable response: “What? Moi, fake something like that? Never. How dare you slander me with such accusations.”

“Right.” With a giggle, the filly hugged Rarity around the waist. “Thanks for saving us.”

Trixie, standing by Ophelia, put on a scowl. “Trixie helped too, you know.”

Still holding Rarity tight, Scootaloo didn’t miss a beat. “You were paid.”

“Now, now.” Rarity patted the filly on the head. “It was hardly a one-mare show, and Trixie deserves credit.”

With a sigh, Scootaloo stepped back and turned to the mage. “Yeah, I suppose. Thanks, Trixie.”

“That’s the ‘Great and Powerful Trixie’ to you, you little scamp,” the mare replied with a flamboyant, arm-raised pose. Then she dropped it and flashed a grin. “And you’re welcome.”

Scootaloo returned the look, but then sobered. She focused on Rarity, wings shivering, and held her hands behind her back. “And, uh, th-thanks. For what you said last night. I… I think I’d have regretted it.”

Rarity took in the filly’s pout. It was a far cry from the determined, angry pony that had been so close to pulling the trigger last night. Not for the first time today, she wondered about what could have been. “He was very worried for you last night. You are aware, yes?”

Uncertain features turned hard. “That doesn’t make things any easier.”

“Oh, I know,” Rarity reassured her. “His actions were certainly wrong. But perhaps someday it’ll allow you to forgive him.” In truth, Rarity wouldn’t blame the filly if that never happened. But she wouldn’t be the Bulletproof Heart if she didn’t at least advocate for the possibility. She was convinced that Blow Dry regretted his actions, and any pony who could regret could be redeemed. If he crossed paths with Scootaloo again, she may be the linchpin to such a path for him.

But that was for later.

“Maybe,” Scootaloo finally, grudgingly agreed. “But if it’s alright with you, I’m going to stay mad at him for now.”

“You’ll get no arguments from me on that,” Trixie muttered, just loud enough for them both to hear.

Rarity saw no reason to debate. Scootaloo had every right to be upset. “Just keep it in mind for when your head cools down.” She looked past the filly to Big McIntosh, who was standing in the doorway of the house and watching with his usual stoic expression, now with a stalk of grass between his teeth. She offered him a wave, to which he nodded.

“Trixie hates to interrupt,” the mage declared in a tone that suggested exactly the opposite, “but the Guard will be here any minute and she’d really like to be going. You take care of yourself, kiddo.”

After a final hug from Scootaloo, Rarity mounted Ophelia and helped Trixie to do the same. The mage held on tightly, clearly still uncomfortable with the idea of riding, but didn’t complain as they made for a steady gallop towards Manehattan. Rarity made sure to head north, just to avoid running into Vapor Trail and the Guard.

“If you ask Trixie,” the mage sourly declared as they approached the city, “that stallion got off light.”

That didn’t surprise Rarity in the least. She pursed her lips as she recalled the mare’s words during the fateful confrontation. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wanted Scootaloo to pull the trigger.”

To which Trixie scoffed. “Then Trixie has news for you, Bulletproof:

“You didn’t know better.”

They found Lyra exactly where they’d left her: all alone behind the front desk of the Arcaenum’s massive lobby. Even before the side door they came in from closed, she informed Trixie that nopony had come looking for her. Trixie seemed very relieved to hear it. The mage then promptly but apologetically rebuffed Lyra’s questions as to what happened and why it took a whole day to do a simple job before somewhat forcefully leading Rarity by the hand to the upper floors.

“I appreciate that I’m a hot commodity,” Rarity noted as she was practically dragged up the stairs, “but I do believe I am capable of following under my own power.”

Trixie, perhaps realizing how tightly she was gripping Rarity’s hand, promptly let go. She even appeared abashed by her behavior. “Trixie didn’t mean— I went through all that crap last night when all I really wanted to do was get to your part of our deal. Forgive me if I’m eager to finally get started.”

Rarity concluded that was close enough to an apology, rubbing her hand as they reached the landing and made for Trixie’s quarters. “It’s alright, I suppose. But was it really necessary to brush Lyra off? I was under the impression you two were friends.”

“She is. I mean, we are! Trixie just—” The change that had come over the mage was as blatant as it was intriguing. There was an anxiety to her manner, an anticipation that she seemed to be both very much and not at all looking forward to. Had she been shown even the slightest inkling of interest in the last twenty-four hours Rarity would have thought she was fast-approaching a confession of attraction. The temptation to tease such a thing was powerful, but she refused to succumb. Whatever Trixie was preparing to bring up, it was clearly something of great import to the mage. No point belittling that.

They entered Trixie’s chambers – which were every bit as messy as Rarity distressingly recalled. Sweetie Belle would have felt right at home. Only when the door closed did Trixie sputter her way back into proper sentences. “Lyra is my friend. She’s the best, and her patience is far more than I deserve.” She moved for a back door, beckoning for Rarity to follow as she stepped over and around piles of discarded books and laboratory equipment with the deftness of familiarity. “But Lyra can’t help me with this, and the fewer ponies that know of it, the better.”

Well, Rarity would be lying if she said that didn’t make her curious. Unfortunately for Trixie, curiosity didn’t outweigh her reservations. Of all the things that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, none were quite so alarming as Trixie’s conduct. There was also the matter of what Rarity had originally paid two obsidians for. “Might I remind you that you have services I am in need of as well?”

“You need not,” Trixie primly declared as they entered the next room. “I have every intention of meeting your needs first.” It was much smaller than the last and appeared to be a private study. The stone brick walls and lack of a window made it feel disturbingly claustrophobic, but the magi-lights on the ceiling kept the room brightly lit. Short bookcases took up most of the walls, along with a small, wide-open cupboard of dishes. Going by the small pile of plates and silverware on the corner of an already messy desk, Trixie often took her meals in here. Let it not be said that the mage hadn’t worked for her position, given the copious number of ancient-looking scrolls, open books, and scribbled notes that made free space on the desk practically impossible to find.

Trixie promptly began moving things around, acting swiftly but taking great care with the objects on the desk. There wasn’t enough room for Rarity to help even were she inclined, so she stood back and began unbuttoning her shirt so as to get at her necklace.

It was clear that her companion was searching for something, and the inability to find it was driving Trixie to unpleasant grumblings. After nearly two minutes of this, she began opening drawers. She groaned as she opened the fourth one, reaching into it swiftly. “Why is it always in the last place you look?” What she pulled out was a long, flat board that Rarity soon realized was a folded… something. Trixie moved like she was going to set it on the desk, only to pause when she realized there wasn’t near enough space for it.

“Right. Let’s, uh, take this back out there.” She noted Rarity's unamused expression and blushed. “What? Trixie is doing important research and doesn’t want to risk misplacing the things on her desk! Besides, you can’t watch what she’s doing in here. Too narrow.”

Deciding she should just accept the excuse, Rarity led the way back into the pigsty that was the main room. Trixie quickly went to one of the occupied tables and began clearing off junk, at one point outright sweeping things away with her arm and paying no mind to the crash of potentially fragile stuff. Rarity used her magic to clear a small space on the floor opposite, taking care not to damage anything as she did; if Trixie was going to blame anypony for ruining something she might need later, it would be herself.

“Okay!” Trixie slapped the thin board down on the table and promptly unfolded it. It was covered in small engravings and divots. The mage’s horn lit up as she raised her hand high, and within seconds small gemstones were levitating from various recesses around the room and into her palm. “This is what the average simpleton might know as an enchanter’s board. Contrary to popular ignorance, it is not used to actually enchant things.”

She began carefully examining the gemstones, one at a time and with her horn lit. Most she tossed aside, but some she placed in the divots of the board. Rarity quickly noted that the ones placed were all trillion cuts with step styles, and none were larger than the (woefully but practically short) nail of her pinkie finger. There didn’t appear to be any correlation to gemstone type though.

Trixie continued her explanation, entirely focused on her work. “The primary purpose of the thaumaturgic spectra chassis is to detect magic and, with the proper application, interpret enchantments. It can even be used to help dis-enchant an object, although that’s very tricky and liable to make said object explode in your face if you’re not ready for it. Luckily, enchanting is Trixie’s expertise.”

Rarity’s couldn’t help but hesitate. “I’m not here to get anything disenchanted.”

“Hmm?” Trixie looked up from her work as if surprised that Rarity was still in the room. “Oh! No no no, sorry. Trixie just got lost in her own magi-babble. She’s arranging the board for detection.” A couple more gems were set in place. The lines connecting all the gems began to glow a faint magenta up until the mage’s horn dimmed, at which point the aura faded. “Okay, it’s all set up. Now we just need to place the enchanted object on the chassis and let Trixie work her magic.”

And then Trixie began to stare. For a brief, blush-inducing moment, Rarity thought it was her bosom that so held the mage’s sudden and wide-eyed fascination. Then she realized that her necklace was now sitting atop her shirt. A sudden and unexpected bout of protectiveness led her to press a hand against the purple, diamond-shaped gem at the necklace’s center. “Um…”

Licking her lips, Trixie raised a finger and pointed at the necklace. “Is that what I think it is?”

Rarity half-turned away, not even sure why she did it. “I suppose that depends on what you think it is.”

The mage let out a feeble whine as the necklace left her field of view. Her hands grasping at air, she breathlessly asked, “Is that what you wanted me to analyze? Please say yes.”

Yes, it had been, but now Rarity feared she might not get it back. Spike had suggested she go to Trixie, but this behavior was far too much! Maybe she should…

“I-I’ll give you the two obsidians back. Just let me hold it!”

“Trixie Lulamoon!” Rarity did not like the high pitch of her own voice in that instant. “Get a hold of yourself.”

The outcry was enough to make Trixie step back, her focus shifting at last back to Rarity’s face. She appeared lost, then confused, then settled on annoyed. Rubbing at her face, she muttered, “Right. Right. You’re a professional, Trixie. Stop acting like some lovestruck foal. It’s not like it’s… Not like it’s real…” She fell into a sort of stupor, staring at something beyond Rarity with a gradually growing, unnerving smile.

Only to end the episode by slapping herself across the cheek. The crack of the impact was enough to make Rarity wince. “Are you alright?”

Trixie heaved a long breath out, hands spreading wide and palm-down as if to dissipate a miasma. Then she offered a somewhat twitchy smile, clasped her hands together, and let out a strained, “So. What exactly is Trixie analyzing for you?” Her eyes flicked to the necklace a time or two, but otherwise strained to hold Rarity’s gaze.

Perhaps it would be… appropriate to start small. Carefully, Rarity pulled out Ruby Heart. “This, for starters.” She’d not actually intended to have Trixie examine the gun, but the little pony in her head was begging for a delaying tactic.

Far from showing disappointment, Trixie hummed and took on a thoughtful pose. “I have to admit, I’ve been curious. It’s a very unusual sidearm.” She reached out a hand, which Rarity kept a scrutinizing watch on lest it go for something other than the weapon. “If I may?”

Rarity found herself reluctant to hand over the gun, but it was either that or jump straight to the real reason she was here. Into Trixie’s hand it went. The mage examined the gun from several angles – to Rarity’s silent alarm, this included looking right down the barrel – before carefully placing it in the center of the enchanting board. At least she had the wherewithal to have the barrel facing away from either of them.

“Now I just place my hands here…” Trixie set her palms down on the board, each atop a single gem. “…and we see what we’ve got.” Her horn lit up, and the magenta lines swept across the board yet again. This time the color also appeared in Trixie’s eyes, the bright glow masking the pupils entirely.

She cocked her head one way, then another. Stepping back slightly, she lowered her face so that it was just inches from the gun. The entire time she did so, she hummed some tune Rarity didn’t recognize. She didn’t seem to be aware of the sounds she was making. Rarity watched in quiet fascination as the magenta lines on the board retreated and advanced along the engravings in strange patterns she couldn’t make heads or tails of. Ruby Heart itself even started levitating a little, not much but more than enough to be apparent.

“Fascinating,” Trixie cooed, clearly a mare in her element. “Judging by the little auras I’m seeing, there are gemstones hidden within the barrel’s metalwork. Rubies, if I’m not mistaken. I can detect hints of…” She blinked, the motion odd as it made her eyes darken for an instant. “This can’t be right. The magic is awkward. It feels almost – and I acknowledge this makes absolutely no sense – wet. And it’s almost like the rubies are humming to me.” The mage stood up straight, cocking her head left and right as if trying to rid her ears of sand. Her perplexity was blatant even with her eyes obscured by the magenta shine. “Where did you get this?”

Rarity, just as flummoxed by Trixie’s statements as the mage herself, responded, “It was a gift from a friend. He told me it was originally found in Siren’s Pass.” She hesitated, fearing that this might sound like utter stupidity. “Sirens don’t actually exist, do they?”

“They did. Once.” Trixie refocused on Ruby Heart, her curiosity unabated. “I suppose they still might. I wouldn’t have the first clue what their magic would feel like, but I can say for certain that I’ve never felt magic like this. If a siren were to waltz in right now and say it belongs to them, I would have no means of refuting their claim.”

Spike had once told her that the Ruby Heart was enchanted, but was he aware of by whom? Rarity would make a point of asking him about this in her next letter. Not expecting a positive response, she asked, “So does that mean you can’t figure out what the enchantment does?”

Trixie drummed her fingers on the board, still studying the gun. “Best guess? Something to do with ruby-tipped bullets. I’m sorry to say that’s as much as I can offer.”

Which was as much as Rarity had already known. A shame she didn’t have any. Such ammunition would have to be custom-ordered, and she wasn’t exactly made of bits. Or rubies, as the case may be. With a touch of disappointment, she nodded and pulled out Silver Lining. She had no reason to believe the gun was enchanted, but since she was here she might as well have it checked. It was made by a wealthy recluse with short-lived dreams of heroism, so the possibility was by no means zero. “Can you check this one now?”

“Oh.” There was no missing the disappointment in Trixie’s voice, and even without being able to see them Rarity knew she’d glanced at the necklace. “R-right. Yes, of course.” She raised her hands from the board and let her magic fade; the board and her eyes promptly lost every hint of magic. Plucking the Ruby Heart up, she offered it to Rarity with one hand and took Silver Lining in the other. Her eyes kept flicking to the necklace.

“To be clear,” Rarity offered, more to refocus Trixie’s attention where it belonged than anything else, “I don’t actually know if it’s enchanted.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Trixie promptly responded, setting Silver Lining on the board. “I understand you might not have noticed, but I can feel the magic in it.” To Rarity’s surprised expression she amended, “I do have training in this sort of thing.”

Before Rarity could comment any further, the board lit up and Trixie was doing her work. The mage’s eyebrows shot up almost immediately and Rarity watched in amazement as the magenta lines began to move in rapid, seemingly random bursts. “Whoa. This thing is enchanted with a capital ‘E’. This may take a moment.”

It was? Given Rarity hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary about the gun before, she found she was willing to wait as long as it took. Did Cranky know that Silver Lining was enchanted? Had Moonlight Raven bothered to inform him? She certainly hadn’t said anything to Rarity about it, so perhaps not. Unless her knowledge had been assumed. But why would Cranky not tell her about every potential advantage, especially given the circumstances of him giving it to her? No, he must have not known.

Rarity found herself with a great many questions, and she dearly hoped Trixie was up to answering at least some of them.

It was a solid five minutes of hemming and humming and pouting and scowling before, at last, Trixie spoke up. “There are a lot of layers here. Whoever enchanted this gun is a master. They might be better than I am, and rest assured I don’t say that lightly.” Rarity decided she would be best served by not commenting. Instead she leaned a little closer, intent on learning more about her beloved weapon.

“Okay, let’s take this one at a time.” Trixie ran a finger along the gun. The caress was almost loving, an expert admiring another’s craft. “The entire weapon, cylinder included, has a spectral inhibition charm. Magic should be radiating off the gun in such thick waves even a laymare would be able to notice, but this masks it so that if you’re not trained or talented, you would be none the wiser.” She glanced up at Rarity. “As an added bonus, it would also make it very hard to disenchant. Probably an unintended side-effect, since it doesn’t matter in terms of the gun’s actual use.

“Next, the barrel itself.” She placed her finger on said barrel. “Three enchantments here. One is to improve aim. Did you find yourself unusually better at hitting targets when you got it?”

Rarity felt a little small at that statement. She distinctly remembered her first time firing the gun and how shocked both she and Cranky were at her skill. Had that all been a lie? Then what of her entire reputation? “It’s… It’s the first gun I ever fired, not counting the one I used in self defense at point blank range.”

Trixie hummed her acknowledgement. “Well then, you may have this to thank. It won’t perform miracles like making a bullet dodge obstacles, but as long as your aim is close enough and your focus is appropriate the gun can do the rest.”

Pursing her lips and trying to ignore the breezie making knots of her insides, Rarity asked, “How would you define ‘close enough’?”

“Near-misses,” Trixie clarified. “If you want to hit the head but point at the knee, you’re hitting the knee. But if you aim for a nose yet point at the eye, you’ll probably hit the nose.” As an afterthought, “Please bear in mind that I’m not an expert on guns, so I’m throwing out ballpark estimates here.”

“Duly noted.” Rarity was at least reassured that she wasn’t proven completely incompetent by this discovery. She wasn’t sure she liked that her seemingly supernatural gunfighting skills had been getting a nudge all along, but she’d deal with her bruised ego later. “And the other enchantments?”

Trixie promptly replied, “There’s an acceleration enchantment. The thaumic mechanisms are more complicated than you’d think, but the effect is simple: the bullets come out faster than they would normally. Should give you better aim at shorter distances and would also give your range a boost.”

Rarity wasn’t sure she could pinpoint a specific incident where this benefited her, although it likely had. She nodded and gestured for Trixie to keep going.

“Third but not least is a triggering charm.” Trixie tapped her finger on the very edge of the barrel. “Right here. Its one and only purpose is to activate the spells captured in enchanted bullets.”

“I can fire enchanted bullets?” Rarity blinked. “Enchanted bullets are a thing?” How had she never encountered this?

Trixie appeared just as stumped. “A pony in your position, with your fame, has never heard of enchanted bullets?”

“Not as far as I know.” Thinking back on all the many, many gunfights she’d faced in the last few seasons, Rarity found herself at a loss. Not once could she recall anything remotely like an ‘enchanted’ bullet. Just the regular lead kind. “What kind of enchantments can a bullet have?”

“Are you kidding? The possibilities are limitless!” Trixie broke into a wide grin, leaning forward against the table as her magenta-glowing eyes crinkled up in the corners. “Bullets that create a burst of flame. Bullets that create ice shards. Bullets that are non-lethal!” She blinked, the magenta glow fading briefly as she did, then stood straight once more. Looking up at the ceiling, she amended, “Well, I suppose the possibilities aren’t limitless. You couldn’t enchant a bullet to heal wounds, for example. Or could you? Hmm…”

Enchanted bullets. Enchanted. Bullets. The potential for such a concept swirled like a tornado in Rarity’s skull. How much easier could her future battles be with something like that? Imagine if she’d gone face-to-face against the Flaming Vermillion with those in her arsenal! Come to think of it, how in Luna’s name hadn’t the Gang attempted to use them against her first?

Temptation and a hint of excitement prompted Rarity to ask, “And where might I procure such bullets?”

With all the giddiness of a filly on her birthday, Trixie chirped, “I’ll make them! I’ll even give you the first batch for free if you let me make some experimental ones for field testing. All I ask is that you let me know how they perform.”

“How could I possibly say ‘no’ to that?” Rarity asked with utmost sincerity. Now a touch excited, she looked down at Silver Lining and eagerly asked, “Is there anything else?”

“Is there?” Trixie gleefully ran her hand along the entire gun yet again, every bit as adoring as before. “If you ever find out who made this, let me know because I want to shake their hand. Every part also appears to have a strengthening charm. You could drop this tower on it and it wouldn’t receive so much as a scratch. Let me tell you, it took some tedious and devoted work to make that happen.

“Last, but not least—” Trixie all but purred as her finger toyed with Silver Lining’s cylinder, “—is this. The cylinder has what may be the most exquisite bit of enchanting work Trixie has ever had the pleasure of witnessing. This beautiful thing is a complicated network of aura batteries!”

This had come out like some grand pronouncement, but Rarity was left underwhelmed. Primarily because “I have no idea what that means.”

“That’s okay, because I do.” Trixie snapped her fingers, and the magenta lines disappeared from both the enchanter’s board and her eyes. She pulled something out of a pocket of her shirt and, fanning her hand out in a wide arc over her head, released what appeared to be glittering dust. Rarity yelped and started to dodge out from under the stuff, but a flash of Trixie’s horn arrested its descent and shaped the dust into a swirling, sparkling sphere. As Rarity watched in mild amazement at the deft magics on display, some of the dust took on the shape of a gun. Rarity was perplexed to see that the gun appeared to be perfectly solid, although the smooth, unified form made it clear that it was by no means real.

“For the purpose of this explanation, there are two types of enchantments,” Trixie began, her eyes not leaving the dark blue material levitating just a few short feet over her head. “The first is semi-permanent. They feed off ambient magic or the magic stored in the user’s natural reservoir to keep a charge.”

The dust-gun began sucking in more bits of glittery stuff from the air around it, before it ‘fired’, sending a dust bullet across the room to explode against the far wall.

“As long as there’s enough charge remaining, the enchanted item can keep doing its thing.”

The ‘gun’ ‘fired’ several more times, each creating an explosion of dust that would rapidly return to the main sphere.

“Most of the enchantments on Silver Lining are of this variety. It feeds itself using local magic, either from the world around it or from you directly. Perfectly normal and perfectly safe, provided the drain is small enough. And for these enchantments, yeah, you shouldn’t even notice.

“The second type of enchantment is temporary.” With a wave of her hand, Trixie dismissed the glitter gun and created instead a large cylinder Rarity quickly realized was meant to be a bullet. “Bullets use these. Once the enchantment’s used up, that’s it. It’s gone. Since bullets are themselves largely left where they were sent, there’s not much point in making an enchantment that would outlive their use. These enchantments are easier to make, if also tedious.”

Rarity was tempted to ask what any of this had to do with Silver Lining, but held her tongue. She imagined Trixie was going to get to the point eventually.

Trixie raised her finger, the ‘bullet’ descending to balance on top of it. She twirled her finger lazily, the bullet rotating in the air with the motions. “The problem with these is that the enchantments are limited in strength. You can only pack so much into such a little package. That’s where an aura battery comes in.”

Some of the dust above them coalesced into a large block, a block that also had a round hole. Trixie waved her hand, and the ‘bullet’ floated up and inserted itself neatly into that hole. “Aura batteries are enchanted objects that gradually store magic into themselves and, when put in contact with another enchanted object, have the ability to apply that stored charge to it. So let’s say a bullet would produce ice.”

Raising her hand above her head, Trixie manipulated the cloud of dust so that it manifested as another gun. Trixie aimed the glittergun at the table between them and ‘fired’ it. Where the ‘bullet’ impacted, dust formed a small column of what Rarity assumed was meant to be ice. “Effective, but limited output.”

The ‘gun’ dissipated, and then the large ‘aura battery’ above their heads shrank down and dropped into Trixie’s waiting hands. She held it forward as if to aim. “But if the bullet fires while in contact with an aura battery…”

When the ‘bullet’ was fired this time, the entire table became encased in ‘ice’. So much so that Rarity had to jump back lest some of the stuff land on her. She couldn’t deny that the point was well made.

Trixie, beaming with pride, used her thumb to open her pocket. Within seconds, all the shiny bits of dust had flowed like water inside, leaving the room devoid of even a speck. She promptly buttoned the pocket back up, patted it, and gave a bow.

Rarity couldn’t help but smile at the display. “Miss Lulamoon,” she declared with confidence, “I believe it is quite possible you missed your calling.”

Hands on hips and smirk held high, the mage answered, “Your awe and adulation are duly noted.” Rarity’s short laugh only made the smile broaden. “But getting to the point of that mind-bogglingly astounding display of showmareship – you can stop giggling at any time – do you understand the point of an aura battery now?”

“Why, yes. I believe I do.” Rarity took Silver Lining from the board and examined it with fresh eyes. “I had no idea it was so special. So you say the cylinder is itself a battery?”

“No.” Trixie’s eyes practically shined with her glee. “I mean each of the five slots is its own, independent aura battery. It’s a brilliant design!”

Rarity cocked an eyebrow at the declaration, then pulled an extra cylinder from her ammunition bag. She eyed it carefully, but could not identify anything unusual. The part that actually held the ammunition was one round piece, after all. “What’s the difference?”

Trixie’s expression morphed to one of utter bewilderment. “What do you mean, what’s the difference? Isn’t it—” She shook herself, then rubbed her forehead. “Right, right, laypony.” She used her magic to snatch the cylinder from Rarity’s hand, prompting an ignored ‘Hey!’ from her. Displaying the cylinder, Trixie waved to it like a showpony might a prize. “If the entire cylinder were one aura battery, then its charge would be used up as soon as any one enchanted bullet was fired. All the other bullets would lose out on the potential boost. But with your gun, each bullet would have its own independent charge! You put five bullets in at the same time, each would have the same level of charge upon being fired, rather than all of it going to waste on a single bullet.”

Snatching the cylinder back with a huff, Rarity promptly stored it and cinched the ammo bag closed. “I would appreciate you asking before taking my things.” Moving back to the conversation at hand, she asked, “And this system in Silver Lining is… unusual?”

“More like ‘one of a kind’.” Trixie pressed on without even a hint of an apology. “Guns made to fire enchanted bullets are, by themselves, extremely rare. I’ve only seen two in my life, not including yours, and neither had anywhere near the enchanting sophistication. Bullets themselves are even worse because you can't enchant them in bulk.” She let out a wistful sigh. Were her cheeks turning pink? They were! “This has given me a new standard to aim for. I’d give my tail for the chance to talk shop with the pony who did it.”

Rarity stared at Silver Lining. While she lacked the know-how to approach Trixie’s level of technical appreciation, she couldn’t help but feel a renewed affection for her favored sidearm. With perhaps a touch more reverence than was warranted, she set the weapon snugly in its holster and promised herself to give it a good, thorough cleaning at the next opportunity. Don’t worry, Moonlight. I promise I’m taking good care of her.

“Now, then.” Trixie made a playful show of fanning herself with a hand and being all aflutter. That came to a hard end when her eyes set hungrily upon the necklace. “Anything else you want me to examine?”

Oh, there was that breezie again. Back for an encore, this time with her stomach as a drum set. A powerful impulse arose to deny it and leave now while she still could, but she pushed it back. These feelings were ridiculous! She wasn’t about to let a bunch of silly, completely unjustified emotions get the better of her.

Even so, removing the jewelry from around her neck was like trying to move a mountain. It came off, but the moment it did she felt… vulnerable. “P-please,” she whispered before Trixie’s eager hands could snatch it away, “be careful. It was a gift.”

“Oh, please. I’m nothing if not professional.” The mage took the necklace with dedicated care, letting out a soft gasp as it settled in the palms of her hands. Pulling it close, she closed her eyes and heaved a heavy, smiling sigh. “Oh, Goddess. It’s the real thing. I n-never thought I’d ever see one, but I can feel the magic. It’s almost like it’s speaking to me.”

Rarity felt an eye twitch. Every instinct was screaming at her to snatch the necklace back and, should that fail, prepare to make use of Silver Lining and Ruby Heart. Her every muscle felt enfeebled. Clutching her hands close to her breast, she adamantly refused to act on her impulses. Her voice shook as she muttered, “Please, just tell me what it is.”

Trixie opened her eyes, her expression one of pure bliss as she breathlessly declared, “It’s an Element of Harmony.”

Oh, that didn’t make things better at all. Rarity stumbled as a bout of weakness came over her, but somehow managed to overcome and remain standing. She recalled everything Spike had claimed and how desperately she’d tried to deny it. “H-how do you know?”

“Because I have studied them extensively. I’m… in the market, as it were.” Trixie all but cuddled the necklace, cooing and petting its purple gemstone, before setting it down on the enchanter’s board. “The only artifacts said to contain the magic of not just all ponies, but all creatures of Equus. And now…” With an almost manic look in her eyes, she set her hands on the board. “...I get the chance to study one.”

The magenta aura returned, Trixie’s eyes becoming engulfed in the brightness of it. Rarity watched, heart thudding at the irrational fear that something would go wrong. She so desperately wanted to put the necklace back on, but she didn’t dare take it from the enchanter’s table while it was still active.

Fears she hadn’t thought about in some time were accumulating in her mind. She wanted the necklace back the necklace was her strength and her namesake and it couldn’t be an Element of Harmony and what if Trixie didn’t give it back and they had to fight over it could she win such a fight she showed earlier with Scootaloo that she could be vicious and what if Scootaloo would be forever tormented by what happened last night and what if she took up gunfighting herself in response which was silly but it could happen because Rarity had already gotten one pony killed with that kind of attention and being related to the Apples would mean meeting Applejack who could be anywhere and she might start courting Rarity and she wasn’t prepared for that level of attention and what if she ended up liking it but how could she like it after everything she’d been through and then she might get killed helping her fight her kin the Bad Apples and oh Goddess this was Manehattan the Bad Apples probably knew she was here and what if they’d already surrounded the Arcaenum and then Lyra might get killed and Trixie would have to defend herself and she’d use those terrible spells again and was Trixie even trustworthy she certainly seemed dangerous she needed to get the Element back where it was safe and she was safe and—

“Come on!”

The cry tore the onslaught of imagined horrors away and brought Rarity back into the here and now. What she found was Trixie, mane fluttering in a nonexistent breeze and face stuck in a determined grimace. The board and the mage’s eyes shined so brightly that Rarity had to squint against it. “W-what are you—?”

“Show me your secrets!” Trixie leaned down, as if the proximity of her glare might make the necklace cooperate. “I won’t be denied! I am capable of knowing. I am worthy of knowing!”

Rarity took an alarmed step back, then another as magenta and purple sparks began to flash around the necklace. “Trixie, you need to stop!”

“I won’t be denied!” Trixie all but screamed as the aura brightened even further, the dancing sparks tracing up her arms. “I’ve waited my whole life for this. My whole life!” Tears started to streak down her cheeks. “You can’t refuse me. You can’t turn me down. I deserve to—!”

In an instant, all the light faded from the board and Trixie’s eyes. Even the sparks came to an end. A second passed as Trixie blinked in speechless confusion. Then, just as quickly, alarm shot through her and she covered her face with her cloak.

Then the enchanter’s board exploded.

Rarity threw her hands up to protect her eyes, not having a chance to raise a shield. But instead of heat and force and pain, she felt… soothed. Calm. It was almost like a reassuring wind caressing her entire body, even as the air crackled and snapped with angry energy.

As the sounds faded, she lowered her arms to find the table shattered and Trixie’s hooves dangling from atop a pile of books. The necklace lay on the floor, seemingly untouched.

Rarity moved like lightning, not even aware of her own actions until the necklace was safely secured around her neck. In an instant, she felt as calm and in control as she ever had. Perhaps even more so. She heaved a content sigh and rubbed at the purple, diamond-shaped gem as her little pony seemed to pass out from exhaustion.

Then she noticed movement from the mage. That movement consisted of a finger rising up to point at the ceiling. Woozily, the unicorn declared, “Trixie had that coming.” The hand promptly flopped back into hiding.

Carefully making her way across the debris, Rarity found the mage disheveled and akimbo, half-covered in fallen books. Trixie’s horn was emitting tiny sparks and motes of magical aura and her eyeballs swiveled as if trying to follow something only she could see. Other than that, she appeared unharmed. Still, just in case, “Dear me. Are you quite alright?”

“Oh, yes. Trixie is fine.” She waved dismissively, at last managing to focus her attention on Rarity. Looking contrite, she accepted the hand and stood on wobbly legs. “She probably won’t be using magic for the next twenty-four hours, but if that’s the most the Element did for her admittedly foolish attempt to plunge its secrets by force then she will take it and be grateful.” She noticed her thoroughly destroyed table and sighed. “Here’s hoping she can find that spare spectra chassis before another customer comes along.”

Seeing that there appeared to be no more harm to the mare herself, Rarity permitted herself to relax a little. “I hope you got what you were after, because I don’t intend to let you do that again.”

“Nor would Trixie try,” the mage agreed, appearing appropriately chagrined. “The Element made it absolutely clear that its secrets are its to keep.” She stumbled to a nearby chair, shoved some scrolls off it, and flopped down with a groan. “That’s one avenue closed.”

Her words gave Rarity pause. She looked down at her necklace, uncertain of what to think. She still wanted to deny that something as important as an Element of Harmony had found its way into her hands. Such a thing could only bring her trouble, and she hardly seemed worthy of it anyway. But then again, the idea of parting with it filled her with a dread, the source of which she couldn’t fathom. Why had she been so desperate to get it back a moment ago? She told herself that it was a precious gift from a precious friend that had saved her precious life multiple times. This failed to explain the instinctual, desperate need she’d felt earlier.

“Forgive me for prying a little further, but was the gem on it always shaped like that?”

Pulled from her thoughts, it took Rarity a moment to realize exactly what Trixie had asked. “Oh, no. Strangely, it was just a white circle when I received it. It became a purple lozenge cut over time.”

Trixie nodded, appearing all the more disappointed by the answer. “Then it’s probably already bonded to you. Drat. No way I’m getting my hands on it now.”

Curiouser and curiouser. Rarity took care to move aside some books from a second chair, one of a completely different design, then sat down and gave Trixie her full attention. “What do you mean by that?”

Noting her genuine interest, the mage laboriously sat up. Her horn had finally stopped sparking by now, though the way she rubbed at her temple suggested an oncoming headache. “I only have speculation from my research, nothing I’d call absolutes. Supposedly, an Element of Harmony ‘bonds’ with its owner. The nature of this is unclear, but one thing all my sources agreed on was that once that bond happens, the only way to break the bond is by the owner’s own actions or… Well. Death.”

“My own actions?” Rarity realized she was still rubbing the necklace. Feeling self-conscious and having no idea why, she forced her hand to her lap. “I’m going to suspect that doesn’t mean simply throwing it away.” Not that she had any desire to do so. Far from it. But perhaps if she could get a better picture…

“I don’t know?” Trixie eyed the necklace, her earlier eagerness traded for a much more welcome expression of professional curiosity. “I’m really not sure how it works. Hay, I wasn’t even sure they really existed until a few minutes ago. But if I had to guess, I’d say ‘by the owner’s own actions’ means you’d have to do something to become unworthy of its boon.”

“I’m not sure what I did to become ‘worthy’ in the first place.” Then Trixie’s last words struck. Rarity glanced down only to realize, again, that her hand had migrated to the gemstone. Grumbling to herself, she forced it back down. “If I asked you what you meant by ‘boon’, would the answer also be ‘I don’t know’?”

“More or less.” With an apologetic shrug, Trixie sat back yet again. “Unless it’s done something specific for you, you know as much as I do.”

Oh, Rarity most certainly had an idea. She distinctly remembered how the gem behaved back at Elysium Oasis and the sudden, amazing confidence it had given her. Idly she pondered if perhaps it wasn’t doing other things too, more subtle and constant things. She did often tend to feel much calmer when focusing on it. Perhaps it was best not to let Trixie in on that yet. No sense giving it more value to the mage than it already seemed to possess.

Which left just one thing to discuss. “I don’t have anything else for you to analyze, and I gather you probably couldn’t do it now anyway. So.” Taking on a prim and proper pose that centered all her attention on Trixie, she asked, “I think it’s time I found out what you wanted from me.”

Trixie stared at her for several long seconds, weary eyes uncomprehending. When understanding finally struck, the mage practically leapt out of her seat. She almost face-planted for her trouble, legs still shaky from her recent experience with magic-to-the-face, but wheeling arms and swaying saved her from the ignominy. “Right! That. Let me just—” She winced as her horn shot off a few feeble sparks. “Er, Trixie means, wait here for a moment?” With renewed energy and excitement, she headed for another door.

Rarity waited patiently, ignoring the sounds of what was probably more junk being thrown around in search of something. Her attention was elsewhere. Particularly, she was recalling all the things Trixie had done in the past twenty-four hours. The rumors around the mare, the fact that she was under house arrest, even the things she said and how she said them, not to mention her gruesome traps. They were things that bothered her, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why.

Was this something she should pry into? There was no way to know for sure. Mayhap she should leave it be.

Trixie practically fell out of the door, clutching to her chest a scroll almost as tall as she was. Brushing back a loose lock of mane and trying to appear poised, she forced her grip on the scroll to relax and approached. “Right, here we are. What I’m going to— Oh.” She looked at the destroyed table, then at the clutter all around them. Her eyes crossed as she took in her horn. Finally, she sent Rarity a sheepish look. “Do you think you could clear a space on the floor for Trixie?”

Allowing herself a moment to silently criticize the otherwise intelligent and capable mage’s lack of organization, Rarity graciously used her magic to push books and a pile of copper vials aside. Trixie wasted no time unrolling the scroll over the freed space. At her suggestion, Rarity moved a few objects around to act as paperweights on the corners.

The scroll contained several images, each of a different suit of armor. There were no less than eight of them, each suit of a completely different design. That one had so many spikes Rarity wondered if it wasn’t more a hazard to its wearer than anything. A particularly lovely one incorporated a swirling, swept-back form that reminded Rarity vaguely of rushing water or perhaps wind. Others were bland, but differed from one another in form and heft. They ranged from appearing very light and covering only the most vulnerable parts of the body to being hulking masses of metal. The images were all monochrome, and the only unifying element was that they all had a crescent moon incorporated somewhere in their designs.

Curious as this all was, none of it was enlightening. Hands on hips, eyes roving over one of the bulkier designs, Rarity spoke. “And what, exactly, am I looking at?”

Trixie, standing opposite from Rarity, was picking at the edges of her cloak again. She spoke with a quiet reverence. “The Nightshade Armor.”

Rarity spared her a glance, raised eyebrow included. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“No, but it means a lot to Trixie.” Seeming to realize what she was doing, the mage let go of her cloak and set her hands behind her back, attempting and failing to appear more confident. “From all the things I’ve read, the armor was completed mere days before Discord arrived in Equestria and fought the princesses.”

So it was an artifact, then. That should have been obvious to Rarity from the start; nopony actually made this kind of armor anymore, much less wore it. “Made by whom?”

Trixie hesitated. “Princess Luna.”

Rarity blinked at that. Why would an alicorn need a set of armor? Weren’t they supposed to be goddesses, immortal and all powerful and such? Rather than voice those questions, Rarity waved her hand at the diagrams. “So which one of these is this oh-so-special armor?”

“I…” The mare closed her eyes and heaved a long, unhappy sigh. “Trixie doesn’t know. She compiled these sketches from all sorts of different sources, because nopony can agree on what the thing looked like. To be honest, she’s not confident that a single one of the authors ever actually saw the armor in person.”

Rarity felt obliged to raise her eyebrow yet again. “Then how do you know it exists at all?”

“It does exist.” Trixie put enough force into the response to clarify that, at the very least, she personally believed it. “I’ve read too much, seen too many hints. The armor is real! And I want it.”

Observing the fierce determination in the mage’s expression, Rarity could only feel incredulity. “You want…” She gestured with a palm at the drawings. “...an ancient suit of armor? Why?”

Trixie was far too focused on her growing excitement to be bothered by Rarity’s blatant doubt. “It’s not just any suit of armor, it’s the suit of armor! Forged and crafted by Princess Luna herself, said to enhance the wearer’s strength and power to untold heights! Supposedly a normal unicorn could have the power of an alicorn just by wearing the helmet alone. Can you imagine it?”

Dark suspicions began drifting into Rarity’s mind. Suddenly, she didn’t care much for the diagrams. No, she was focused more on Trixie herself. “You still haven’t clarified why you want it.”

“Because—!” Trixie paused, and Rarity was taken aback; there’d been some genuine anger in that. The mage seemed to be fighting a war with herself, eyes darting about as she mumbled. Her hands clenched into fists over and over again. At last she groaned and said, “Because Trixie wants to be the archmage. And because if she can’t show those idiots on the Cabinet that she deserves the role, she’ll never get there.”

So the archmage was a position appointed by the Manehattan Cabinet. Given that Trixie was under house arrest, it would make sense that they’d have some reservations about giving her the job, even if she was the previous archmage’s apprentice. Even so, “But why the armor specifically?”

“Because she’ll have it!” Trixie motioned as though she were on a stage and putting something on display. “Behold, I have it! Trixie has the Nightshade Armor. Surely only a mage of great skill and talent would be worthy of owning such a prodigious piece of magical history.”

Yet again, Rarity wondered if Trixie shouldn’t have been putting on traveling shows. She certainly had that sense of theatrical flair. That didn’t stop her from being stumped by what she was hearing. “That’s it? A mighty tool of magical power, and you want it for a showpiece?”

“Not entirely.” Trixie gained the same kind of unnerving, desirous grin that she’d previously shown Rarity’s necklace – Element, she grimly reminded herself – mere minutes ago. “Princess Luna’s armor isn’t just a lump of metal, it’s enchanted metal. I would have the chance to study the work of a literal goddess!” Her hands rubbed together as she stared with longing at the schematics between them. Rarity couldn’t help checking to see if the mare was drooling. “The things I could learn. I would become the greatest enchanter since before the Day of Burning. My place in history would be assured!”

Rarity eyed the mare. She was certainly doing so unnoticed, given how Trixie’s focus was so intent on her ‘bright’ future. In her opinion, it all sounded like a pipe dream. It was apparent where Trixie was going with this, and she questioned if she wanted any part of it. Not just because it sounded like a pygmy leaper chase, either.

She’d seen enough seemingly impossible things be real to not dismiss the idea outright. She’d questioned the existence of Elysium Oasis once, and where had that gotten her? To say nothing of the literal magical relic of unknowable origin currently adorning her neck. So for now Rarity would approach this on the assumption that this mythical armor did exist. Which led to the much bigger question: was Trixie worthy to possess it?

Which meant it was time to get to the bottom of something. “How did Archmage Fleur de Lis die?”

All joy vanished from Trixie in a blink. At first she only gaped at Rarity, seeming uncertain of what had just been asked. That evolved into a hard, teeth-baring glare just as quickly. “What’s the point of the question?”

“The point is you, Trixie Lulamoon.” Hand on hip, Rarity bent forward to match the mage glare for glare. “You’re about to ask me to go hunting this all-powerful armor for you. I will do no such thing if I don’t feel you deserve to have it.”

Trixie straightened her stance, head tilted back as she bristled. “First of all, Trixie wasn’t going to have to look for it. She was merely going to ask that you keep your ears open during your travels, maybe ask a question or two. There’s no point in Trixie sending you on a quest to hunt down something when she doesn't know where it is.

“Second, Trixie resents the implication that she might have anything to do with her teacher’s death!”

Rarity was unmoved. “You’re speaking in third person again.”

“Trixie’s habits are her own!”

“And Rarity is observant enough to recognize that you only speak in third person when you’re nervous.”

The mage trembled, fists held at her sides and eyes brimming with unshed tears. It took her several seconds and a few slow, heavy breaths to reply. “Fleur de Lis gave me everything, took me in when nopony else believed in me, picked me up when I was crawling through the trash for scraps. I am not a murderer. Yes, I have an ego. Yes, I have ambitions. That doesn’t make me guilty, and I am tired of everypony in this blasted town assuming that I am!”

“Forgive me for touching a nerve,” Rarity countered, not budging from her stare. “But your conduct last night drives me to question things.”

Trixie rubbed at her eyes, only breaking visual contact for a brief second. “Is this about the bone growth spell? Because Trixie told you that was an accident. She’d never tried it before, she didn’t know it would get out of hand like that!”

“And what about when you sliced those poor ponies’ legs off?”

“Why are you hung up on this?” Trixie threw up her hands as she shouted, “Yes, ponies died! Wasn’t that the idea? We were defending ourselves. You shot just as many ponies as Trixie killed with her magic, maybe more, and that’s not even counting everything you’ve done before you met me!”

“It’s not the fact that ponies died,” Rarity countered, her firmness clashing with Trixie’s fierceness. “It’s the manner of their deaths. Your methods felt… needlessly cruel.”

With a snarl, Trixie shot back a fiery, “That is rich coming from the pony who systematically slaughtered a bunch of bounty hunters outside Hoofington.” When Rarity flinched, the mage gained a wicked smile of triumph. “Oh, yes, other ponies might be spoiled by rumors and hearsay, but Trixie can pick out the truth from the legend. You butchered those ponies for sport. So don’t go acting all high and mighty on me!”

Now it was Rarity sucking in a slow, angry breath. Yet she didn’t break eye contact. She wasn’t the weak one here. “I did do things I regret. I do not deny it and I accept the blame. I am trying to be a better pony than I was back then.” She narrowed her eyes. “Would that I could say the same about you, yet you strike me as a particularly vindictive mare.”

For whatever reason, Trixie didn’t immediately fire back. For the first time since the argument had begun, she seemed to seriously consider Rarity’s words. With a huff, she finally averted her angry gaze. “Trixie is not a villain. Or a murderer. Last night was the first time she’d ever been in a real fight.”

At last, the mage had found something that could take Rarity aback. “Wait, really?” Trixie, still not facing her, stiffly nodded. “But… But you handled it so well. I would have sworn you were a combat veteran.”

“Well she wasn’t. She’s not. I—” Trixie was trembling all over again, and this time it clearly wasn’t anger that was the cause. “If you t-tell anypony Trixie admitted this, she’ll… I was afraid. M-maybe I hid it well, but that was honestly the second most terrifying thing to ever happen to her.”

The way she was mixing her pronouns lended an odd sort of honesty to the statement. Rarity couldn’t not be sympathetic for the mare. She knew what that had been like, and unlike Trixie, she’d failed to hide that horror in her first fights. If anything, this revelation allowed Rarity to have a certain respect for her.

But it didn’t stop her from being wary.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” she ventured, “What was the first?”

It took a long time for Trixie to answer. So long that Rarity began to expect she’d overstepped. But then Trixie groaned and all but fell back into her chair. “The day Trixie’s teacher died and she realized that everypony would surely blame her for it.” She massaged her temple with both hands as she bitterly added, “Which they did.”

Quiet filled the air with uncertain anxiety as Rarity considered the conversation so far. Trixie tucked her legs under her and folded her arms, seeming to close herself in and away from the outside world. She appeared so… cornered, her eyes taking in a nothing that left her visibly worried.

Settling in her own chair, Rarity quietly asked, “How did she die?”

For a fleeting moment, Trixie appeared ready to lash out. But when she saw Rarity’s soft, earnest stare, she deflated and went right back to her hunched, curled posture, even going so far as to wrap her cloak around herself like a protective blanket. It was some time before she finally spoke, her words quiet enough that Rarity had to keep her ears turned forward to hear clearly.

“Miss de Lis was suffering from a headache and asked me to add some sleeping tincture to her meal that night. It was a normal thing, she often got headaches from dealing with the Cabinet. I didn’t think anything of it. Th-then when she didn’t come for our usual daily practices, Trixie… I found her in bed.” Tears welled in her eyes as the trembling returned. “It looked like she’d suffered. She was dead. She was dead and Trixie was the last pony to interact with her and I’d made her meal and given her sleeping tincture and they said I poisoned her. I d-didn’t mean…”

Rarity didn’t remember kneeling at the mare’s side, but there she was. Hushing Trixie with gentle coos, she took her hand in her own. “It’s alright. It’s alright, okay?”

“No it’s not,” Trixie hissed, tiny pupils locked with Rarity’s gaze even as her body continued to shake. “They think Trixie d-did it. What if I did? I’ve messed up dosages before. Never that badly, but s-still…”

“It’s okay.” Rarity offered a reassuring smile, reaching out to brush a lock of pale mane from the mage’s face. “Come now. If they were truly confident that you’d killed her, wouldn’t you already be in jail? You’re here, Trixie. House arrest might not be fun, but I’d say it means they don’t have a real case against you.”

The mage sniffed and rubbed at her nose with the edge of her cloak. “Y-you really think so?”

Making a valiant effort not to focus on the act of vandalism performed mere inches away, Rarity nodded. “Absolutely.”

Trixie considered this, her shivers slowly subsiding. Tentatively, she asked, “Am I a bad pony?”

The question was almost childish in its delivery, but Rarity would have to be blind to miss the sincere, desperate hope in those eyes. So she smiled, gave Trixie’s hand a light squeeze, and replied, “You risked a lot to help a little filly find her lost sister. When that filly’s family came under attack, you didn’t hesitate to defend them despite your fears and lack of experience. These are not the actions of a bad pony. Yes, Trixie, I believe you are indeed good.”

Rarity still had her reservations. She recalled the sight of that pony with the shredded legs. Her mind vividly replayed the moment when Trixie had encouraged Scootaloo to pull the trigger.

But then Trixie offered that fragile, trembling smile that shined with so much appreciation, and Rarity decided to push those reservations aside. This was what the young mare needed, and it was something Rarity was more than willing to provide.

Perhaps it would be enough to help Trixie get past these trying times.

“There you are!” Octavia was already descending the steps of her family manor, worry fresh across her features and a pair of stoic bodyguards tailing her. “Where in Equestria have you been?”

Rarity paused, taken aback by the earnest question. Scratching beneath Ophelia’s frills after the lizard gave her shoulder a nuzzle, she asked, “I’m sorry, you were worried about me?”

“I was up all night!” Octavia fretfully examined her, perhaps in search of some grievous injury. “I know you are the Bulletproof Heart, but this is Manehattan. The Bad Apples have eyes all over this town. For all I knew you were stuck in some firefight.” She reached forward to pick at the sleeve of Rarity’s dirtied shirt, then sniffed and grimaced. “Er, and no offense, but you have certainly got the appearance of a mare recently engaged in activities unbecoming of a lady.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” Rarity began leading Ophelia around the house to the private stables. “Last night proved to be an… experience.”

Octavia kept pace, and the guards were kind enough to stay behind Ophelia to grant their privacy. She scowled like she’d just bitten into a lemon before glancing around as if expecting somepony to be listening in. “Was the witch at the center of it?”

The distaste in her tone was a firm reminder of Trixie’s poor reputation in this town. Far be it for her to not do her part at least a little. “As a matter of fact, Trixie was a significant help. Her aid in the defense was invaluable.”

“The defense?” Octavia abruptly stopped as alarm passed through her features. “Wait, you mean she left her tower? She is not supposed to do that. She is dangerous.”

On that, at least, Rarity could thoroughly agree. But… “Octavia, darling, I know you’ve heard things. I know Trixie is in a lot of trouble right now. But I would recommend you check your sources before deciding they are accurate.” They paused before the wide double doors, where a stablecolt happily took Ophelia’s reins. The lizard was understandably popular to anypony lucky enough to tend to her needs.

That done, she turned to Octavia. All she saw was doubt. And why shouldn’t Octavia doubt? As respectable and intelligent as the musician was, her perception on this topic was shaped by sources either dishonest or themselves misled. What else did the musician think she knew? For that matter, how much of Rarity’s own awareness was flawed by the twisted and mercurial whims of the rumor mill?

Octavia appeared concerned. Not for herself, but certainly for Rarity. “She killed her own mentor. Who was supposedly like a mother to her.”

Had she? Rarity rubbed at her necklace – her Element, she corrected herself – and reflected on what she’d seen and heard. If there was anything she’d learned from watching Trixie and Scootaloo and Blow Dry, it was that second chances were sometimes warranted. Perhaps this way she could help Trixie get hers.

“Trixie made mistakes,” she answered at last. “Killing her teacher may or may not be one of them. Whatever she’s done, I can tell you with confidence that she’s not a villain. She is struggling, she is misunderstood, and she has an entire city set against her.” Then, with a touch of exasperation, “And she’s not very good at defending herself, the poor thing.”

Octavia scoffed, already turning to lead them to a side entrance of the manor. “Maybe if the ‘Great and Powerful’ Trixie stopped talking in the ‘Great and Powerful’ third person…”

Rarity couldn’t resist a chuckle at that. “I don’t know. I rather like that about her.

“Far be it for me to tell somepony else to tone down their ego.”

Bulletproof Heart: The Great, The Powerful, and the Bulletproof

by PaulAsaran

The Filly

The Search

The Fight

The Mage

The Author's Note