Trixie lay sprawled out on her belly, forehooves clutching her head as she softly groaned. The last —and only, thank the Stars!— time her head had felt this way, well . . . she'd been on the road a few months after having left the School for Gifted Unicorns, and had enjoyed the (now) dubious pleasure of partaking of several small glasses of triple-distilled peach brandy.

She'd barely even had hard cider before then, so she hadn't been prepared at all for the effects. It had felt so wonderful, at first, feeling her mind gradually expanding into a glowy cloud of effusive pleasure, all her cares, fears and worries evaporating into the gentle undertow of euphoria.

Had it remained so, Trixie would have truly enjoyed the experience. Alas, after having reached that point, and instead of remaining at that delightful vista, things had continued apace. Rather more quickly than she'd been prepared for, her mind was being pulled, like salt water taffy, in all directions. And along with that sensation of vertigo and disorientation had followed the truly awful ménage à trois partner of intense nausea.

Thankfully, this time, the nausea was absent. Unhappily, however, this time she'd been crying into her pillow the last hour, so now her nose was clogged and her head felt as if hammers were pummeling the insides while manic miniature dwarves were happily clogging along the inner lining of her skull.

Part of that throbbing misery could be attributed to the strain of having had four extremely powerful creatures “speaking” through her to the three Princesses representing Equestria during this morning's earlier Conclave, a meeting during which Trixie had been no mere flunky, but had been, instead, as much an involved participant as any of the others had been.

But only part.

No. No, the true source of the pounding agony was what had followed . . .

No bigger table was needed after all. No sooner had she said something about that than she realized, based upon their guests' physiology, that chairs would not be at all practical, let alone comfortable. Before she could say anything else though, Princess Celestia had diplomatically suggested they simply sit in a loose circle facing one another, obviously having followed the same train of thought as Trixie had and arriving at the same conclusion station.

Trixie demurely attempted to, once again, absent herself from the diplomatic negotiations, knowing she was a mere nopony, not at all anypony important like the three Princesses. But the moment she attempted to do so, deeply curtsying as she discreetly started to retreat . . .

Both Diarchs immediately made it quite clear that, not only did they wish Trixie to remain, but, as well, remain as an active participant and voice to the negotiations, as equal in status as the three Princesses themselves for the purpose of parlaying. The throbbing in her head started then, as the four Primary Elementals chimed in, making it quite clear to her, and just as unmistakably to the others, that they, too, insisted on her as their liaison . . . and that they would accept no other.

That meeting had only lasted perhaps half-an-hour, but it was the most intense thirty minutes of her life (well, outside of performances, that is). The Princesses Celestia and Luna went first, repeating again what they had earlier said to Trixie's little friend, firmly ratifying in that absolute, flat and Regal tone they both shared: the Summoning and Binding of Primary Elementals was immediately illegal and banned, with the additional Anathematization of Binding itself. Princess Twilight then followed, expressing a desire to extend fellowship and friendship to the Elemental Realms. Princess Luna then concluded by stating the hope that a partnership could be forged between Realms, wherein ponies could request assistance in certain, specified instances (for instance, a Gnome to help out with landslide disaster mitigation and rescue), making it quite clear that any such request was exactly that: a request, and not a demand.

The sticky issue there was that, while it was glaringly obvious what benefit such would be for Ponykind, it wasn't at all clear how such a partnership, and assistance, would profit the Elementals. And try as she might, Trixie's head had quickly exploded trying to parse the very alien —and very powerful— thoughts of the four Elemental Rulers there. For by now all four ponies had surmised that was exactly with whom they were treating: the Primary Elemental versions of ruling Kings and Queens.

There was a strong sense of satisfaction from the four Elemental Rulers when the Conclave finally concluded. There had been no negotiations regarding a cooperative partnership, but that was completely due to the difficulties of communications than disinterest, or, worse, flat, outright apathy.

When they finally returned to the Elemental Realms, instantly disappearing with audible pops, Trixie slumped, the immense pressure inside her skull fading within seconds. Head drooping, ears flagged, her coat lathered and looking as if she’d just run a complete circuit of Ponyville at a hard gallop, she closed her eyes as she fought to ground and center herself as she’d learned to do years ago at Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns . . . and the much harsher, implacable lessons at the hooves of her M-mother.

She sensed the presence of somepony approaching, and almost sobbed with relief as she heard Twilight’s low, murmur. “Think you can stand yet Trixie? Can we do anything for you? And that was really well done! We couldn’t have done this without you.”

Wriggling a bit Trixie shifted her weight and center of gravity preparatory to getting up to her hooves. “Trixie . . . is alright,” she shakily replied. “It was just, well . . . intense, is all.”

“I agree with Twilight,” Princess Celestia congratulated. “That was very well done indeed.” Her voice was low and soft, rich and warm, a tone that made anypony the recipient feel special, feel valued and cherished. Her students and subjects treasured those occasions when that tone was conferred upon them.

The Sun Princess smothered the pained sigh that threatened to escape as she detected the tightness ringing the exhausted unicorn’s eyes at Celestia’s words, a reaction she did not have in response to Twilight’s. Even after all these years . . .

“I agree as well,” Luna added. “I do not think this would have gone as well as it had, or even gone at all, without your assistance. In fact, I think We should make this official,” she added, her voice sounding pleased as a perfectly logical conclusion occurred to her. Warmly smiling at Trixie, who had just regained her hooves —albeit shakily still— Luna proudly announced, “Trixie Lulamoon, We stand in need of an ambassador to the Elemental Realms.” She was so focused on Trixie that she missed the sudden flash of horror on her elder sister’s face. “Will you accept that honored position? It doth come with a patent of nobility as well,” she sweetened the pot.

Her smile slowly faded, a look of confusion and befuddlement growing as Trixie just stood there. Then all three grew deeply distressed and alarmed, as Twilight waved a hoof in front of the frozen unicorn’s eyes . . . and she never blinked.

Trixie had gone stuporous catatonic.

“Feeling better?”

Trixie barely heard Twilight’s low, soft murmur; it was more sensed than heard. Why was Twilight here? Trixie couldn’t remember. She could not remember!

Twilight stayed with her for the next hour, a silent comforting presence as Trixie slowly started remembering that morning. Breakfast. Twilight’s unexpected arrival. The even more unexpected arrival of the Princesses Celestia and Luna. Before Twilight left, a leave-taking only agreed to with Trixie’s assurance, along with her weak yet firm expressed desire to just “take some willow bark and get some rest”, Trixie had remembered, albeit a bit sketchily in places, everything up to the departure of the Primary Elemental Monarchs. There was more that had followed, of that she was sure. But each time she’d cautiously put her hooftip in the water and tried to remember . . .

Body and mind screamed alarms of such violent intensity that it rendered impossible exploring further down those paths. It didn’t —and wouldn’t— matter how cautiously or forcefully she probed, from which direction or path she took. Although those memories might actually be stored . . . Trixie would never be able to access them. She’d simply have blank spots, forever unreachable, in the vault of memories.

Just like the hundreds she had regarding her youth . . .

And Mother.

As Trixie stepped outside the latest store she'd visited, the proprietor quietly closed the door behind her. Taking a deep breath she gustily exhaled. At least having a door gently closed behind her was a vast improvement over earlier times, when she would be unceremoniously hustled out the exit, hooves skidding, and have the door slammed behind her.

Improvement notwithstanding, she was getting nowhere fast with preparing for —her coat violently shivered— the upcoming fireworks exhibition that Princess Twilight had connived her into agreeing to perform. Well, she more softly exhaled through flared nostrils, to be scrupulously accurate, all Twilight had really done was light the metaphorical fuse. It had been the pain and anguish in Princess Luna's expression that had “popped the 'cracker”, as it were.

Whichever way she might point the hoof, she had accepted the task of putting on a fireworks display in honor of Princess Luna. Talk about a Royal Command performance!

Had this happened even just last year, Trixie would have been prancing on cloud nine, chest puffed out, a smug yet gloating expression at scoring such a victory. But that would have been last year. Now?

Now, however, she was fighting waves of roiling nausea, wishing a Gnome would just appear and pull her down into a deep, dark hole.

C'mon Trixie, just pull yourself together. You can do it this one last time.

Once her belly stopped heaving she took another deep breath before twitching her coat and setting off again, this time northeast, towards Friendship Rainbow Kingdom Castle. Trixie had already decided that the East Lawn of the Castle would be the ideal spot to hold the fireworks: it was reasonably flat and quite roomy, with a nice, lush, manicured lawn, plus the river behind would serve to contain any potential stray sparks. Having ascertained the best venue, she'd then started out procuring the necessary supplies: lumber for the stages, rope barriers, and other tricks of her trade. Yes, she could simply make everything illusionary —and do a fantastic job of that, too!— but, if she was going to do this, then she was going to make her final performance memorable for all, and something to (hopefully) banish some of Princess Luna's sorrows as well.

Unfortunately, although she was no longer being given short shrift as the local stores, neither was she being extended any credit. Bits on the barrel-head, she was told, time and time again. Well, if Princess Twilight wanted Trixie to put on a fireworks show, she was just going to have to pony up the bits for the supplies. Several minutes later she was approaching Sugar Cube Corner, on her way to see Twilight, when a commotion across the street caught her attention.

And not just her attention, either; pretty much any pony within sight and earshot was looking that way. Trixie's lips pursed into a tightness borne of dislike, for the two causing the disturbance were Heck and Jeck, twin earth pony workers. They were virtually identical: big, massively muscled brutes, completely jet black save for the cream colored underside of their barrels. Heck's cutie mark was a pick, while Jeck's was a mattock. They didn't live in Ponyville but were itinerant laborers, willing to do for a decent wage the hard and dirty jobs nopony else wanted to do.

One could be excused for mistaking muscles for numskulls, but that would be a mistake, for the Ell twins were undeniably intelligent . . . and all the more hazardous for that. They were bullies, plain and simple and, far more dangerous, they were intelligent, cunning, and crafty ones to boot. They never crossed the line far enough to run afoul of the law, yet they trotted that line with a scalpel's cold surgical precision. Trixie had had the misfortune of being their targets twice before, soon after she'd taken up residence in her clearing, and both times they'd reduced her to near-suicidal hysterics.

“Hey. Isn't it too early t' start drinkin'?” one of them slurred to the other, weaving on his hooves.

“I dunno,” the other slurred back. “Are we awake?”

“Yep.”

“Then it ain't too early!”

Both broke out into hearty guffaws, belly laughs that carried a strong undertone of maliciousness. They had obviously been at it for several minutes, as there was a small crowd watching. And, with their cruel cunning played with a virtuoso's finesse, once again had drawn the crowd into their hooves. Ponies that normally would have been aghast at the comments and antics were, once more, staring in mesmerization.

“What's t' best Mum t' have?”

“I dunno Jeck. Wha' is t' best Mum t' have?”

“A lush.”

“A lush? Why is that?”

“Cuz Heck, ye gets yer milk an' yer beer outta t' same taps!”

Again they erupted into mocking, braying laughs, mirthfully stomping the ground with their hooves.

What in the world? Trixie thought, brows furrowed in puzzlement. Then her head whipped to the side, ears back and flat against her skull as she heard a high, shrill —and undeniably young— voice shriek in outrage “You leave my Mamma alone!”

Standing just outside and to one side of Sugar Cube Corner were an earth pony mare and a very young blank flank unicorn filly. The mare looked frozen in place, every aspect of her posture radiating humiliation and abject despair, eyes shimmering with unshed tears before eyelids tightly closed, the tears now freely flowing down her muzzle which hung down in defeat. The little filly was standing just in front of the mare, between her forelegs and almost underneath her chest, slender legs rigid in braced fury as she screamed her defiance at the bullies tormenting her mother.

Something inside Trixie roused, feelings long dormant and virtually extinct, and, to be frank, ones she'd rarely, if ever, before felt with respect to another: indignant fury and righteous rage. Her eyes, normally placid purple pools, abruptly flared, at that moment (if she only knew) as fiery as the eyes of her little friend. Trixie had grown quite used to being the butt of nasty, mean and cruel jokes (although admittedly those had virtually ceased by now) and had quickly learned that the Ell twins would target anypony they sensed were vulnerable.

Like a former, failure of a showpony . . .

. . . Or a struggling alcoholic single mother.

Trixie's nostrils flared as she shifted her gaze from Berryshine (whom most everypony called by her nickname Berry Punch, due partially to her talent but mostly because she did have a drinking problem) and Ruby Pinch, her daughter, to Heck and Jeck. And, as she did so, her horn softly gleamed, the light pink aura almost lost in the bright sunshine. Nothing seemed to happen for several long seconds, and then . . .

Heck suddenly reared back, frantically waving a massive hoof, his eyes wide and rounded. A heartbeat later and his twin joined him, both making panicky little squeals. They spun and turned, still waving forehooves about as if swatting at . . . something.

“Get away!” “Shoo!” they hollered, incipient panic in the voices.

And then first Jeck, then Heck, crowhopped and jerked. “Bees!” they both screamed then, stumbling at first, they quickly accelerated into gallops as they raced off, still shrieking “Bees! Bees!”

Taking a deep breath Trixie extinguished her horn, feeling her pulse throbbing hard. She quickly throttled her fury down, although it was a struggle regaining a calm composure. Taking another deep breath she then slowly paced over to Berryshine and her daughter who, now that the bullies had run off, was sobbing, tightly pressed against her mother.

“Hello Berry,” Trixie soothingly spoke. “And hello to you, too, Ruby. My my,” she gently tsk-ed. “It looks like somepony could use a hoofkerchief. Don't you have one?”

The little filly tensed at first at hearing somepony so close, but relaxed a bit as soon as she saw it was Trixie, and not more bullies. Choking back a sob she gave a little headshake of negation, throat too clogged with tears to speak.

“Huh,” Trixie sounded puzzled. “Are you sure?” Then, before a baffled Ruby could respond, Trixie extended a forehoof and reached behind a little ear. “Then what's this?” A moment later and a white dove, rapidly cooing, took to the air. “Oops!” Trixie exclaimed. “You're right! That's no hoofkerchief! But what about this?” Reaching behind the other ear she pulled out a bright red hoofkerchief . . . followed by a green one . . . a yellow one . . . a blue one . . . seven in all, each knotted to the other, making a very colorful streamer.

Ruby had not only stopped sobbing by now, but had stopped sniffling as well, yellow-green eyes wide in astonishment and amazement. “Huh,” Trixie huffed, “That won't do either,” she exclaimed, tossing the knotted hoofkerchiefs up into the air . . . where they promptly vanished. “Ah ha!” she exulted, reaching behind the first ear again. “Here we go!” as she drew out a beautiful silk hoofkerchief, a white so pure it almost hurt to gaze at, and monogrammed with an interlocking “RP” in one corner.

Gravely extending the square to Ruby, Trixie deeply curtsied as she did. “M'Lady Ruby, thy hoofkerchief.” The little filly giggled, tears —and fears— now forgotten. Glancing up at her mother for permission first, Ruby then took the proffered square and started drying her eyes and muzzle before noisily blowing her nose in it. Giving Ruby a wink Trixie then turned to Berry before offering her a second one, this one without any prestidigitation involved.

“Thank you,” Berry whispered, her eyes still looking empty and haunted. She quickly blotted the worst of the tear-streaked ravages from face and muzzle before handing it back to Trixie, who simply smiled, shook her head and held up a forehoof. “Please. Keep it.” Berry weakly smiled, looking broken, an expression that Trixie was all-too-familiar with, seeing it virtually every day when she looked into her mirror. And as she did, yet another emotion stirred to life deep inside.

Glancing to one side at the entrance to Sugar Cube Corner, Trixie's mind rapidly whirred. “Berryshine?” she gazed back at the dejected earth pony mare. “Would you mind if Trixie bought Ruby a treat?” she asked, gesturing with her muzzle to the store. At that the little filly's ears perked up, and she pleadingly gazed at her mother with imploring eyes.

Berry's expression turned blank; moderate pink eyes, the whites red-rimmed from holding back tears, fixed on Trixie. She quite obviously suspected some sort of prank or trick, but, finding nothing but honest sincerity, blinked several times before giving a light shake of her coat.

“Mother? Please?” Ruby entreated.

“I . . . I guess it would be all right,” Berry hesitantly replied, then, more firmly and assured, “Thank you for the kindness.”

The three of them walked into Sugar Cube Corner, Ruby happily leading the way, almost skipping in her excitement. Off in the distance was heard a crash, a whinny, then a clatter, followed by an almost inaudible, “Bees!” Pinkie Pie was behind the counter, handing over a wrapped package followed by a receipt and change to a customer. “Be right with ya!” she called out. “Seat yourself!”

Sugar Cube Corner was moderately slow at the moment, poised between the end of the morning sales and the lunch rush, so there were several unoccupied tables available. Taking seats —the little unicorn filly eagerly squirming on hers . . . and still clutching the sodden hoofkerchief like some precious talisman— Trixie asked Ruby what treat she'd like.

“A sprinkle-covered, sugar-frosted, chocolate-glazed, vanilla custard eclair bomb!” she excitedly enthused, while both Berry and Trixie winced.

For the most part the menu and recipes of Sugar Cube Corner's goods were the creations and products of the earth pony proprietors, and husband-and-wife team, Mr. Carrot Cake and Mrs. Cup Cake, who, while their establishment was noted for their specialization in sweets and baked goods, also frequently catered events —both public and private affairs— throughout Ponyville. Now and then, however, they permitted Pinkie Pie, their employee and renter, to dabble and create. Most of her experiments were, well, less than successful . . . unless one was grading gooey messes, clouds of smoke and “unique” flavors as successes. Several had been big hits, actually winding up as popular menu items.

And then there were the famous . . . if not infamous . . . sprinkle-covered, sugar-frosted, chocolate-glazed, vanilla custard eclair bombs.

Foals, fillies and colts absolutely adored them, as much for the messiness as the taste . . . and the amount of sugary-sweetness they contained. It was rumored that an earth pony filly or colt who managed to finish an entire one was able to achieve flights that were the envy of any pegasus. Adults, however, shuddered at the mere name of them . . .

While no few secretly bought them for indulgent, guilty pleasure.

A sprinkle-covered, sugar-frosted, chocolate-glazed, vanilla custard eclair bomb started off as a grapefruit-sized ball of profiterole, which was then filled almost entirely with rich, thick vanilla custard with intriguing hints of spices. It was then completely covered in a thick layer of dark chocolate ganache which, in turn, was topped by a layer of sugar frosting, and then finally finished with colorful, glittery sprinkles.

That quite hoofily explained the “sprinkle-covered”, “sugar-frosted”, “chocolate-glazed”, “vanilla custard” and “eclair” aspects of the confection's nomenclature, which left only the “bomb” characteristic remaining. At first blush, somepony could reason that that descriptive noun was based upon the spherical shape and heavy weight, reminiscent of the archetypical villain's fuse-sputtering bomb. It was even possible that such was what had inspired Pinkie Pie during its creation. Alas, that was not, however, what had truly earned the deceptive-looking pastry its distinctive moniker.

Some —not all, mind you, just a random few— sprinkle-covered, sugar-frosted, chocolate-glazed, vanilla custard eclair bombs actually exploded when bitten into or cut open, sending the vanilla custard inside bursting out in an expanding ball of, well, sweet, sticky goo(dness).

It was common knowledge that on those occasions when that happened, a tucked-in napkin was entirely useless . . . as were bibs, or even aprons for that matter. Serious debates had been held regarding the advisability of having mackintoshes on ready standby for dining safety.

No sooner had Ruby excitedly announced her desire than nearby patrons hastily vacated adjacent seats (having no mackintoshes at the ready), causing her to hugely grin, yellowish green eyes sparkling with merriment. Berry winced again, her imagination quite up to the task of envisioning the potential hazards, while Trixie sternly throttled her second wince, this one borne from calculating the cost; while sprinkle-covered, sugar-frosted, chocolate-glazed, vanilla custard eclair bombs weren't exactly costly, neither were they inexpensive.

Before either could consider all of the ramifications Pinkie Pie pronked over, cap on head, pencil tucked behind an ear and order tablet at the ready. “Sorry for the delay,” she apologized, “But we've been busy as bees today. Yessir, busy busy busy!” Bestowing an ear-to-ear grin to the three she hastily scribbled, “One sprinkle-covered, sugar-frosted, chocolate-glazed, vanilla custard eclair bomb,” then, as she tucked the tablet away added, even as Berry and Trixie wordlessly sputtered, “Last one left, so I'll give you a discount,” as she then pronked back behind the counter.

Berry seemed to wilt under the dazzling smile of her daughter, but then took a deep breath before looking at Trixie, obviously wordlessly asking the unicorn if such a treat was more than Trixie had intended. Trixie, in turned, bestowed a similar look on Berry, verifying that such a treat was acceptable to Berry, from the perspective of her being Ruby's mother. Ruby, meanwhile, was excitedly squirming, earlier tears and fears quite forgotten.

“Ruby?" Trixie addressed the eager filly. “Trixie needs to speak to your Mom for a few minutes, OK? We won't be long.” Mare and filly instantly looked at each other, Ruby abruptly growing still. Berry then glanced at Trixie, who could see wariness in those worn depths. Trixie, of anypony around, certainly understood that leery caution. Without saying a word Trixie raised a forehoof up and touched her chest, then traced first a vertical, and then horizontal line there, finally finishing up by covering an eye with the bottom of her hoof.

From the back of the shop, from behind closed doors, came Pinkie Pie's voice. “I heard that!”

That was so unexpected, and sounded so bright and cheerful, that Ruby smothered giggles behind little hooves while Trixie and Berry both gave startled jerks. Berry gave Trixie an appraising look that lasted several seconds, and then she softly, tenderly smiled down at her daughter. “Ruby? Trixie and I will be right back. We have some boring grown-up stuff to talk about. Now be a good filly until Mamma gets back, OK?”

“Yes Mamma!” she replied, nodding her head even as she began wriggling in expectation of her treat. Trixie politely motioned for Berry to precede her, and then the two of them gravely paced outside Sugar Cube Corner and off to one side, as to not block the entrance.

Their manes lightly fluttered in the gentle breeze as they stood there, side by side, for almost half a minute in silence, before Trixie quietly asked, “How long?”

Berry seemed to freeze, her breathing halting, eyelids not blinking. It was such a seemingly innocuous question, and one whose subject could be virtually anything, but Berry instinctively knew about what Trixie was actually asking. Her plum coat violently rippled; her eyes closed tight, her head slumped as she dejectedly confessed. “Ni . . . nine weeks,” she brokenly answered, and then, with the bitterness of bile, “This time.”

Her head jerked up, haunted fandango orbs huge and rounded in startled surprise as Trixie enthused, “That's marvelous Berry! Truly amazing! Trixie is really impressed and proud of you!” There was a moment of feeling tricked and cruelly pranked, but only a moment, for there was no mistaking the utter sincerity in Trixie's voice and expression.

It was, however, a sincerity that Berry could neither understand, nor accept. Her voice harsh and acerbic, overflowing with self-loathing, she bitterly responded, “There's nothing to be proud of. I'm a failure. The town drunk. It's just a matter of time before I fall off the wagon again. Just ask anypony.” Tight-faced, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, Berry angrily swiped the side of her hoof across her eyes then tensed, bracing for the usual platitudes . . . or condemnations.

“Do you think of Princess Twilight as a hero?” Trixie asked. “A courageous, fearless warrior?”

Berry's train of thoughts came to a slithering derailment, the unicorn's apparent non sequitur confusing her. Shaking her head to clear the fog, ears flapping as she did, Berry finally replied in an over-controlled tone, “Well . . . yes. Yes, I do. Doesn't everypony?” Her eyes narrowed a bit as she suddenly recalled the rivalry that was said to exist between the (former) showpony mare and her alicorn competitor.

Gazing towards the distant spires of Friendship Rainbow Kingdom Castle, visible over the rooftops, Trixie nodded. “Yes, Trixie does. And while Trixie was not here to personally witness the fight between Princess Twilight and Lord Tirek, she has heard much about that battle. Everypony in Ponyville is extremely proud of their Princess, and Trixie can certainly understand why they are.” She paused a moment, a sudden pinching tightness at nose and eyes before continuing. “But, as much as Trixie admires Princess Twilight, she knows of other warriors, unassuming in appearance and demeanor, who are even more dauntless and valiant. For they fight a foe even more insidious, more powerful, than even Lord Tirek.”

She paused a moment before gazing intently into Berry's eyes. In a tense, uneasy voice almost whispered, “They fight demons.”

Berry looked shocked, rocking back a bit. “They are terrible foes, these demons,” Trixie continued. “For once they find a victim, they claim her. And once they have . . . they cannot be vanquished; they cannot be banished. A demon that claims a victim for itself cares only to be cruel; to hurt and wound and injure. The truly terrible thing is that, no matter how often it may be defeated, it cannot be fully expunged. Each day may bring a new battle; each battle might be won in furious combat, but the war will never end; she will never be truly victorious, until the day comes when she finally closes her eyes for the last time.

“And those demons, they are terribly cunning. They are perfectly content to lick their wounds and wait to try again. Later that day; later that week; years later. They strike without warning, sometimes with obvious fury, other times with a serpentine cunning. They learn from past mistakes, always adapting, always seeking vulnerabilities, waiting for her guard to be let down . . . and strike when she does.

“Not everypony that finds themselves with a demon foe holds fast against it. Some succumb quickly, lost forever; even wallowing in the power of their demon enemy. While others buckle under the unending assault, their strength and determination eroding over time. Think of that Berry,” Trixie focused on the trembling earth pony mare as she gestured towards Twilight's Castle. “Princess Twilight is a heroine, and a warrior. But when she went to sleep the night after defeating Lord Tirek, she did so peacefully. She did not uneasily slumber wondering if tomorrow, or the next day, or the next week, she would have to fight him again . . . and again . . . and again. Princesses Celestia and Luna did not apprehensively slumber knowing that tomorrow, or the next day, or the next week, they would have to fight Discord again . . . and again . . . and again.

“But the warriors Trixie speaks of, and admire, do.

“They go to sleep each night knowing that, come the morning, their demon lies in wait. Perhaps it attacks her that day; perhaps it simply bides its time, patiently . . . oh-so-patiently . . . waiting. Come the night, she lies there, replaying that day in her mind. Win or lose, peace or combat. Always knowing, always knowing, the next day will be the same . . . again . . . and again . . . and again. Always with the knowledge that her demon does not fight alone, but often seduces friends, family, neighbors and acquaintances . . . anypony and everypony it can to its cause and flag.

“And sometimes, no matter how determined, how puissant and doughty a warrior she is, her demon bests her. She lies there, beaten, as her demon howls its victory, as it mockingly brays and humiliates. But though she lies there, beaten and defeated . . . she is not broken or vanquished. She pulls herself up, and dusts herself off . . . and returns to the fray. Wiser, more experienced, more determined. For, when all is said and done, it does not matter how often she falls . . . but that she rises up afterwards.”

Trixie paused a moment, as Berry saw an inordinate sadness glimmer for an instance in the sober unicorn's countenance before she solemnly gazed deeply into Berry's shimmering eyes.

“Which is why I admire you, and am proud of you. For you are one of those dauntless and valiant warriors. I admire your courage, and envy your strength.”

Berry blinked as Trixie finished, then swallowed hard as brimming tears overflowed, silently streaming down her muzzle. Her mouth worked wordlessly for several seconds, unable to speak, and then simply flung forelegs around Trixie and tightly clutched. It took Trixie a few moments to hug in return, having little experience in doing so.

They stood that way for about a minute, saying not a word as they each firmly embraced the other, until finally Berry gave a quick tight squeeze and dropped down to her hooves. Trixie blinked as Berry's tremulous smile abruptly froze, as the earth pony's expression started to fall. Glancing over her shoulder in the direction Berry was looking Trixie spotted Spoiled Rich and her daughter, Diamond Tiara across the street. Both of them were looking at Berry and Trixie, Ponyville's two scapegraces, with sneering expressions of superiority and disdain.

Without saying a word Trixie turned on her hooves and stood shoulder to shoulder to Berry. Unlike the dejected earth pony, Trixie stood there, proud and assured, not shouting defiance or challenge, yet, at the same time, radiating a sense of confidence, equanimity and serenity. Moments later, out of the corner of her eye Trixie noticed Berry squaring her hooves and lifting her head, matching Trixie's posture and expression.

Spoiled Rich and Diamond Tiara both started at that, then flushed in embarrassment as they did. “Hmpf!” they snorted in unison, lifting elegant muzzles up in aristocratic disdain before studiously ignoring the duo and continuing on.

Berry looked at Trixie, a grin spread across her face and her eyes twinkling, looking completely relaxed and self-confident for the very first time in Trixie's memory. Her grin grew even wider when Trixie held up her forehoof for a high-hoof. Smacking hers with a clonk against the broadly smiling unicorn’s Berry gave a bark of delighted laughter as Trixie haughtily sniffed in derision in the direction the two snobbish, pompous popinjays had departed.

“We should probably get back inside,” Trixie said. “Trixie is pretty sure Ruby is growing eager and impatient.”

“Pinchy,” Berry said as they walked back inside.

“Pinchy,” she repeated as they paced over towards Ruby, who, instead of impatiently squirming, was sitting quite still, a grave expression on her face as she solemnly watched her mother and Trixie walk towards her, completely ignoring the sprinkle-covered, sugar-frosted, chocolate-glazed, vanilla custard eclair bomb sitting on a plate in front of her. “It’s what her friends call her. Isn’t it Hummingbird?”

At that, Ruby’s face lit up and, yes, she started wriggling again. As Trixie and Berry took their seats with her, Ruby beamed at her new unicorn friend. “It’s Pinchy!” And, since everything seemed OK, her Mamma actually smiling! Ruby saw no reason to wait any longer. Before either pony could say anything, or do anything, Ruby had picked up her treat in both forehooves, dived right in, and taken a huge bite . . .

KAA*BOOOOOSHHHH

Plunking the mop back in the bucket Pinkie Pie gave it another good splooshing around. “Good thing the morning crowd was mostly gone!” she cheerily chirped. Ruby was still heroically munching on her treat, although there had been a temporary “time out” while Berry went through an entire basket of napkins wiping custard off her daughter. It would have been more efficient just hosing her down —something Pinkie Pie would have happily obliged . . . as she’d made perfectly clear standing there in firefighter’s turnout gear and helmet, brass nozzle in hooves as a large canvas hose snaked back into the kitchen, ready and waiting.

Well, the morning crowd might have been “mostly gone” then, but at the moment it was just the four of them, the rest having fled in the wake of the custardy explosion. While Pinkie Pie finished “swabbing the deck”, Trixie and Berry took turns toweling each other off, Pinkie having raided the laundry for every clean towel she could find. Berry smothered a grin and chuckle as the custard‑covered unicorn muttered, “That fire hose is looking better and better every second.”

“Mamma? Miss Trixie? Would you like some?” Ruby piped up as she licked custard off her lips with a quick swipe of a curled little tongue. Berry did burst out laughing as Trixie mordantly replied, purple eyes twinkling in complete contrast to her tone, “Thank you Pinchy, but no. Miss Trixie isn’t ready yet for a second coat.” She whispered something to Berry, who blinked in pleased surprise before nodding. “And if it’s Pinchy, then it’s just Trixie, not Miss Trixie,” she said with a smile, watching as Ruby’s face erupted in a dazzling smile.

“Here ya go!” Pinkie Pie burbled, setting two cups of coffee and a large glass of milk down with solid clunks. Before anypony could respond the pink earth pony pronked back behind the counter.

“I’ll be right back,” Trixie apologized as she got up and paced over to the counter. It wasn’t that she disliked coffee, because she didn’t; dislike it, that is. What she did dislike, however, was Pinkie Pie just serving items that nopony had ordered. She wasn’t exactly rolling in bits, after all!

“Pinkie Pie —,” she started, but before she could get any further . . .

“Made too much coffee this morning!” she bubbled. “Just been super dooper busy today! Bzz Bzz Bzz! Yup, busy as bees today! I would’a had to just pour it down the drain if you and Berry didn’t drink it. Thanks for helping out! Would’a hated t’ waste it!”

Eyes narrowing a bit the suspicious unicorn tried to follow along as Pinkie Pie prattled at high speed. “And the milk?”

“Well, she’s a growing filly yes? And growing fillies need lotsa milk. Helps build muscle ‘n’ bone yanno. And the sprinkle-covered, sugar-frosted, chocolate-glazed, vanilla custard eclair bombs really taste much better with milk don’t’cha think? What good is—”

“Pinkie Pie,” Trixie interrupted, and as the enthusiastic pink pony caught Trixie’s expression she slithered to a halt, looking a like a guilty school filly with her hooves caught in the cookie jar. “While Trixie truly does appreciate the thought, and the kindness behind it, she did invite Berry and Pinchy and, in doing so, fully intended to pay for them. She appreciates the coffees, and will accept them “on the house” as it were, since you did say you would have poured it down the drain otherwise —you were going to do that, weren’t you?” she asked, giving Pinkie Pie the gimlet eye. Trixie relented a bit when Pinkie simply nodded, not a trace of artifice to her mien. “It is important to Trixie that she pays her debts,” she quietly yet adamantly asserted.

Pinkie Pie deeply inhaled before gusting out a sigh, her expression a mix of disappointment tempered with understanding before flashing back into her standard high-octane mode. Trixie smiled then, as much as hoping to ease the possible sting of rejection as to convey appreciation for the thought. She moved out of the way to make room for the lunch customers who were starting to arrive, and reseated herself back with Berry and Ruby. “Is everything alright?” Berry asked, sotto voce.

“Everything is fine,” she assured the concerned earth pony. A sudden inspiration hit her, almost physical in effect. “Trixie is not sure if you have heard the announcement yet,” she began, catching their attentions. “But in four days,” and Trixie fought back a momentary surge of panic at the thought, “Trixie will be holding a fireworks display, the evening of Running of The Leaves festival.” Ruby gave an excited squeal, and even Berry looked on in expectant excitement. “I would like Miss Cheerilee’s students to play a part. Pinchy, you are one of her students, yes?”

Ruby nodded, looking on in lively curiosity.

“If your M-mother says you may, would you like to help Trixie?”

Ruby immediately shot an imploring look at her mother, who, in turn, looked at Trixie. “Help how?” she asked, her tone inquisitive rather than suspicious.

“Trixie will be making, well, call them props of a sort. Enough for every student to have one —Trixie will need Pinchy to tell her how many students there are— and then, at the exhibition that evening, to distribute one prop per student.”

“What are the . . . “props” . . . for?” Berry asked.

Trixie just grinned and theatrically winked. “It’s a surprise.”

“Please Mamma? May I?” Ruby implored.

“Sure you can Hummingbird,” Berry agreed with a tender, warm smile.

“YAY!!!”

They talked about inconsequentials for a bit, a quiet contentment in socializing with guards down, something neither of them were at all used to doing. Trixie finally sighed, “Trixie needs to get moving,” she explained, “There is a lot of preparations she needs to do before the Running of The Leaves festival. Besides,” she glanced around at the rapidly filling shop, “we should make room for the incoming customers.”

Nodding in agreement Berry stood up, then gave Trixie a firm hug. Ruby then tightly squeezed Trixie, chirping, “I’ll be the bestest helper ever!” As mother and daughter exited, Trixie took her place at the end of the line, waiting to pay for things. Her mind was intently focused on all the arrangements and supplies she was going to need, on how she was going to present all this to Princess Twilight . . .while her stomach had the oddest, quiverish feeling as her mind traveled down daydream paths imagining talking with Twilight, not “Her Highness”.

And, possibly, perhaps more than just “talking”.

“Hey there Trixie!” The startled unicorn almost backed into the customer behind her, jerked out of intriguing snippets of fantasies and into the present. “Phew! Getting busy again! Busy as bees in fact! That’ll be three bits.”

Trixie felt herself wince. Still and all, she considered, she’d appreciated the company, and had enjoyed making Pinchy smile and forget her tears. Reaching for her bit pouch . . .

She froze. She literally froze, feeling her blood congeal and turn to ice. A tremor rippled back and forth through her as utter, absolute humiliation made her face ignite even as the rest of her was as cold, and as brittle, as ice. Her neck bit pouch was at home.

It was at home.

“Is something wrong?” Pinkie idly chirped, the question more pro forma than an actual query.

Trixie wanted to die on the spot. After all the fuss she’d made about “being responsible” and “paying her debts”, here she now was, unable to pay! “Tri— Trixie left her bit pouch home,” she whispered in mortification.

“That’s OK!” Pinkie smiled, an ear-to-ear grin, sky blue eyes radiating mirth and merriment. “I’ll just put it on your tab!”

“T-t-tab?” Trixie sputtered. “B-b-but P-pinkie, Trixie doesn’t have “a tab”!”

Pinkie Pie gazed deeply into Trixie’s eyes, and the stunned unicorn had a moment to see what a few, a very very few, ponies had ever had the distinction of seeing: sky blue orbs, usually seemingly shallow pools of comedy, amusement, and fun seemed to extend into infinity. Pinkie Pie’s expression was, for a heartbeat, as serious and intent as Princess Celestia’s had been (was it just that morning?) when making her declaration.

“You do now.”