Twilight and Trixie silently stood there, side-by-side, hanging their heads as Spike roundly scolded and lectured them both. “A snack,” he snorted. “I walk into the kitchen and see the two of you ‘just looking for a snack’. Lemme guess why you didn’t ask me to ‘rustle you up a snack’. Let’s see . . . let’s see . . .” he gazed up at the ceiling as he thoughtfully tapped a talon against the side of his muzzle. “Now, that couldn’t possibly be because—,” the little dragon abruptly focused a very sharp, very keen, glare at the two recalcitrant mares, “neither of you have even had dinner yet. Could it.”

His lips twitched as he fought so very hard not to grin. Both of them looked about four years old at the moment, looking everywhere but at him, actually scuffing circles on the floor with the tip of their forehooves. Crossing his arms in front of him, he started tapping a toetalon on the floor. “We-ell?”

Twilight opened her mouth to speak; however, what she intended to say remained forever unknown, as . . .

“Busted,” Trixie whispered, sotto voce, out of the corner of her mouth to Twilight.

“OK; next question: Do you have a personal key, or do you remember yours from school?” Trixie blinked at the unexpected question.

As they had been finishing their snack —well, dinner (no matter the hour) by the time Spike had finished “rustling them up a snack”— Twilight had asked if Trixie had wanted any help transcribing the observations from her earlier, experimental examinations. She’d then added that, if Trixie wished to do so, they could head down to the Laboratory and do that there.

For a moment, Trixie’s pulse had accelerated, thinking that Twilight had been hinting at something more than “transcribing notes”, but a single look at her expression had deflated that notion, for Twilight had appeared calm and collected, with a hint of that “bookish scholar” expression. Her ears had flicked back and forth, as she had wavered between disappointment and sheepishness.

Still, she did need to record everything, and she wouldn’t mind the help . . . especially if that meant spending time with Twilight. Not to mention that, as a sounding board, Trixie couldn’t think of anypony better than Twilight. So, after finishing their meals, Twilight escorted Trixie down to the Laboratory. Once there, pausing where Trixie thought the door would be, Twilight had then asked her if she could find the way down there on her own. When Trixie had drolly replied, ‘That depends; is that with, or without, using breadcrumbs?’ she had been rewarded with a soft giggle from Twilight. After reassuring her that, yes, Trixie felt sure she could do so, she was then taken aback by the next question.

“Ah . . .” Trixie grew very thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, Trixie does, and she does. Have one, and remember hers, that is. Actually,” she admitted, “they are one and the same. May Trixie ask why?”

“Because I’d like to add your key to the entrance spell. That way you won’t need me when, and if, you’d like to use the lab.”

Trixie’s eyes rounded like saucers. “Is . . . isn’t this your personal lab?”

“Well . . . yes. Personal inasmuch as I also have a personal bedroom, a personal bathroom . . . It’s not personal as in “mega-off-limits, ultra-secret, have-to-kill-you-if-I-show-you” personal,” she grinned. “I’ll admit it is somewhat my sanctum sanctorum,” she conceded. “So it’s not as if I’d want half of Ponyville traipsing in-and-out all day, like they do in the Library. But!” she held up a hoof. “But the Library, as much as I’d love it being my personal Library, is actually a public Library.” A fleeting look of sadness flashed across her face. “It’s meant to replace Ponyville’s Golden Oak Library.” Gazing at Trixie, her expression wistful, she softly affirmed, “If anypony would understand how I felt at losing my home, you would.”

Gentle warmth slowly expanded inside Trixie at that, a sensation of wonderment at the realization Twilight was sharing such a deeply personal feeling with her. Words failing her, she simply nodded in mingled understanding and commiseration.

Taking a deep breath, Twilight gusted out, and then smiled. “Well!” she briskly continued. “As I was saying: I’d like to offer you the freedom to use the lab. I’m not forcing, or requiring,” she clarified, “you to do so. Neither am I suggesting you don’t have the intellect, or maturity, to make your own decisions. Yes, I do happen to think it’d be a good idea, but just because I think it’s a good idea doesn’t mean you do.”

From anypony else, that sort of involved explanation would have the entirely opposite effect on Trixie: the harder somepony would sugarcoat their motive, the more Trixie would interpret that as subtle, manipulative machination. However, with Twilight . . . it was rather endearing, actually; Trixie understood that Twilight was striving very hard to be respectful of Trixie’s dignity and feelings, but, as they were feelings, Twilight was still floundering.

“Trixie will be quite honored to accept,” she finally replied. “It will be a privilege that she will not take lightly, or abuse,” she vowed. “And, should you also wish to critique her research, or offer suggestions and advice, Trixie would also be grateful and indebted.”

Twilight’s face spread into a warm smile. “OK then. I’m going to invoke the keying spell. When I tell you, go ahead and use your personal key.” Suiting actions to words, Twilight’s horn was surrounded by a pink aura. Unlike before, however, the door itself did not glow, nor did any sigils gleam. “OK, go ahead now.”

It wasn’t at all difficult remembering her personal key; after all, it was the one that set the master pattern on her “special locker” back home in her wagon. Trixie’s horn was outlined in pink for a moment, as she linked her key to the door spell.

“OK,” Twilight nodded to her friend. “Go ahead and open it.”

Licking suddenly dry lips, Trixie felt her heart pound, fully aware of the energies she felt both in, and behind, that door. At least Trixie doesn’t have to worry about booby traps! she nervously giggled, then swallowed. She hopes!

Her horn lightly coruscated, a moment only, as she sent a trickle of magic whispering towards the door. Immediately the door became clearly visible, as previously-invisible sigils brightly glowed.

“Nicely done!” Trixie felt a rush of warmth at the obviously sincere praise. That warmth quickly faded, replaced by dread chill, when Twilight cheerily announced, “Let’s go!” Bracing herself, Trixie swallowed once, quickly licked her lips . . . and then plunged through the seemingly-solid stone door.

Once on the other side, she violently shuddered, then sheepishly grinned when she heard Twilight understandingly murmur, “Takes some getting used to, huh.” Instead of feeling mortally humiliated at her fear having being noticed — as she would have, had anypony other than Twilight made that comment— Trixie merely felt commiseration and understanding.

“Trixie is actually doing it to herself,” she softly admitted, flushing as she did.

“How so?” Twilight asked, simply curious.

“It is not as if it is uncomfortable, discomfiting, or disquieting. To be honest, if Trixie’s eyes were closed and you led her through that, Trixie is not sure she would even notice. It is just that Trixie keeps imagining getting stuck halfway through.”

Once again, she was astonished by Twilight’s reaction. “Heh,” she softly snorted. “Been there, done that. Not with that, specifically,” she clarified. “But I’m usually my own worst enemy.”

Sharing a grin with Trixie, with a slow, mock-grandiose sweep of a forehoof, Twilight then gestured to the lab. “Well, this is it,” she announced. “Pretty sure you haven’t gotten a really good look yet, as I sorta, well . . .” she trailed off, blushing quite a bit. “As I sorta rushed you through the last two times,” she admitted. “I was sort of eager,” she confessed, cheeks quite rosy.

Within heartbeats, Trixie’s cheeks were fit to match Twilight’s own, and both of them were scuffing the tip of a forehoof along the floor, looking everywhere but at each other. Wide grins slowly spread across their faces when, at the same time, they peeped at each other. “Ummm . . .” Twilight started, hesitant and timid once again. Taking a deep breath, she suddenly fixed Trixie with an intense gaze. “I would like to spend some time with you again tomorrow.”

My, but it got very warm in here all of a sudden! “Ah . . .” Trixie faltered, taken by surprise at that. Coat twitching, ears flicking back and forth, Trixie knew, based upon how hot her face felt, that Twilight probably didn’t need a verbal answer. Besides . . .

Shyly smiling at Twilight, Trixie’s expression, and words, had Twilight’s legs feel weak and wobbly. “Actually, Trixie would like that very much,” she boldly —for her— stated. “Especially since she . . . she has . . . something she wishes to show you.”

Twilight slowly glided her tongue across lips, as her eyes widened and heart accelerated. Closing her eyes, she then visibly shuddered, drawing several very deep breaths before opening her eyes again. “G-good. G-good then. It . . . it’s a plan.” Another deep shudder, then a lopsided and coy smile. “Well!” she gusted. “Back to business then!”

Trixie had a slightly more difficult time returning back to “business”, but the moment she remembered exactly why —and, more importantly, precisely for whom— they were there, she rapidly sobered.

Pacing over to one of the distinct partitions, Twilight gestured to it. “This is the Biology section,” she explained. “Basically anything to do with life, life sciences, and living organisms. I think this is the most applicable for what you’re researching. The important question is: Do you? Think that, I mean.”

Trixie nodded. “Yes, Trixie does. If she had to pick a particular area, this would be it.”

“OK. Next question then: Would you like to have a personal work space here? A place to store supplies, like ink, parchment, and quills for note keeping, for instance. Also books that you’d like to keep on hoof for easy referencing. And Trixie?” she looked at her friend. “These are just questions. Not passive-aggressive manipulations, not machinations, or anything of the like. OK?”

Tipping her head a bit to one side, Trixie watched Twilight for a few moments before asking, “This is not the first time you have said that, or something similar, to Trixie. Is there a reason you keep doing so?”

“Because, well, to be honest, my social, and interpersonal skills, aren’t so hot,” came the immediate reply. “Great IQ,” she muttered, “but not-so-hot EQ.” Taking a slow, deep breath, “Because I’m afraid of hurting you. Hurting your feelings,”

Trixie just kept watching Twilight, who simply unabashedly returned her gaze. Inside, however, gentle, simmering warmth expanded inside Trixie. Twilight was being utterly sincere, hiding no ulterior motive. Twilight knew her weaknesses, and worked hard to surmount them, but was also aware that was a long, hard struggle for her, and she simply didn’t want to accidentally hurt Trixie because of her own shortcomings.

Stepping forward, closing the distance, Trixie —very lightly, very delicately— pecked Twilight on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered in Twilight’s ear, then marefully struggled not to laugh as Twilight’s face turned a vibrant scarlet, at the same time her knees almost buckled. “You have difficulty with social skills,” she quietly said. “Trixie admits to having difficulties with self-confidence —not that she really needs to tell you that,” she said, completely serious. “Instead of working so hard so as to not hurt the other, suppose we just trust each other, and, in doing so, learn to conquer our weaknesses?”

The low, soft scritch of quill against parchment sounded quite loud in the near-total silence of the lab. “Was there anything else?” Twilight asked.

“No. That was all.”

Capping the inkbottle and storing the quill with the others, Twilight lightly blew across the wet ink, to hasten its drying. “I’ll admit that that seemed quite thorough,” she said. “But, honestly? It seemed more along the lines of a physical exam, or, maybe, an anatomy lesson. Was that the intention?”

“Honestly?” Trixie mused. “Honestly, Trixie really had no specific idea, or avenue of research. She expected to, after acquiring quite a bit of data, to narrow things down to something specific at that point.”

Nodding, Twilight replied, “Makes sense. Especially since you’re coming into this cold. Actually,” she pondered, “that’s probably a very good thing; you won’t be having any preconceptions, subconscious or otherwise.” Rolling the now-dry scroll, she floated it over to a storage cubby and slipped it inside. “I do have a couple of quick questions though. If you don’t mind?”

Uh-oh, Trixie thought, easily detecting Twilight’s sudden burst of energy and focus. Trixie wonders what has fired up her hunger and thirst this time. It was only then that Trixie noticed that Twilight had been jotting notes on a completely separate scroll.

“It was far more important to record your notes,” she said, excitement clearly building in her voice, “than it was to satisfy my curiosity. But, now that you’re finished?” her voice rising at the end.

Before she could go further, the door abruptly shimmered, in a rather disquieting fashion . . . as Spike, carrying a tea service, stepped into the room. “You two do know how late it is, right?” he asked as he padded over. “Sleep is just as important as food,” he reminded them, as, with no obvious motion, a set of legs unfolded from the tray.

Seeing Trixie’s stunned surprise, Twilight flushed. “Forgot to mention: Spike also has access here.”

“Now,” he grumbled, a little wisp of flame curling up from a nostril, as Twilight flushed even darker, actually hunching! “So,” pouring two cups as he spoke, “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that by ‘Spike also has access’, that means G&P now does, too?”

Twilight sharply inhaled at that, shooting a horrified look at Spike before darting an anxious look at her friend, who, at the moment, had grown very still.

Fixing each cup the way each of them liked, Spike sat their cups in front of them. “No coffee; sorry. Coffee’ll keep you awake . . . assuming you ever get to bed, that is. Speaking of which . . .” he trailed off, fixing each of them with an intense, glittering gaze. “You have fifteen minutes. Tops. If I have to chase you out of here with a pointy stick, I will,” he promised, and somehow Trixie sensed he wasn’t at all joking.

Once Spike had left, Twilight took a cautious sip of her tea, blinking in pleased surprise, all the more so since it wasn’t chamomile. “I forgot to mention that I’d physically keyed Spike into the locking matrix,” she apologized. “He, ah, he . . .”

Suddenly Trixie giggled, surprising herself. “How badly did he scold, that first time?”

Closing her eyes and visibly shuddering —a reaction Trixie wasn’t at all sure was feigned— Twilight replied, “Pretty bad, actually. And since I could tell he’d been scared as well as upset, well . . . you know?” She sighed in recollection. “I knew it was pretty bad when he’d threatened to send messages to Celestia and Luna . . . and Cadance, and Shiney, and my parents.”

Trixie sympathetically winced.

“He was absolutely right, though,” she admitted. “On both counts. For one, as he’d pointed out, if anything had ever happened to me here,” she gestured to the lab in general, “like, for instance, a spell backfiring, nopony could help me, since nopony could enter. As for the other . . .” Twilight furiously blushed as she trailed off, looking deeply into her teacup as she sipped.

She snorted tea as Trixie drolly said, “It is hard to be nagged, and mother-henned, when Spike cannot reach you.”

Shaking a forehoof at Trixie in mock-threatening manner, Twilight tried glaring, as well; an effect spoiled by the twinkle in the depths of her eyes. Sighing in resignation, she nodded in acquiescence. “I try —really!— to take care of myself. Like regularly eating, and getting enough sleep. And I am doing better at that . . .” again she trailed off, her expression growing distant and melancholic.

“Twilight?” Trixie softly murmured, concerned at her abrupt silence and withdrawal.

“I’m sorry, Trixie,” she quietly replied, her voice sounding a bit thick. “I was just woolgathering, is all.”

Twilight’s eyes widened at Trixie’s sharp tone. “No. No, you were not ‘just woolgathering’. You are hurting, and Trixie would like to know why. And please, do not lie to her,” she warned, before Twilight could say a word. “Either tell Trixie it is personal, and you do not wish to discuss it, or tell her why you are hurting. But do not lie to her.”

Bracing for an argument, or a scold, or a furious, enraged counter, Trixie mentally hunkered as she watched and waited. The last thing she truly expected was . . .

“I miss this,” Twilight wistfully sighed, gesturing to the lab. “I miss studying, and tests, and exams, and research. It feels as if, as these last few years have rolled by, instead of my horizons being broadened, that more and more doorways have, instead, been closed.” Scrunching shoulders, and hunching in on herself, “I feel . . . confined. Restricted. Everypony is so thrilled for me. I’m an alicorn now! A Princess! A Princess with her own, honest-to-gosh castle, and staff, and a freaking title, too!” Angrily swiping a forehoof across her eyes, she stifled a sniffle. “It’s not that I’ve gotten better at taking care of myself, it’s that I have less and less opportunities to get lost in the joys and wonders of research and learning.” She gazed around her lab with yearning eyes; eyes filled with a hunger that no longer could be fed.

A sniffle did break free, as she then took a swallow of tea. “I know I’m doing something important, and something that nopony else can do. And it’s not as if that makes me unhappy, because it doesn’t. But, all my life, my cutie mark was telling me magic was my destiny. And it’s all I ever wanted. I didn’t want wealth, or power, or fame. I just wanted to learn. To get better. To just make magic my life.”

“Trixie understands.”

For an instant, rage flashed across Twilight’s face, a reaction very disproportionate to the low, soft murmured statement. Throttling that kneejerk reaction at birth, Twilight sternly called her emotions to heel. How in Tartarus could you understand? What makes you think we share anything like that in common? Since when did you become a psychology expert? Those were the questions that had immediately popped into her mind. However, the one she actually asked was, “How so?”

Recoiling a bit at the visible flare of fury that her innocent statement had ignited, Trixie’s heart still was frantically pumping when Twilight responded. Closing her eyes, feeling tears welling up behind closed lids, Trixie confessed her terribly weakness, the defect of her personality and person . . . and did so to the only pony Trixie had ever felt close.

“Trixie’s cutie mark . . . it never stops whispering to her. Never. When . . . when Twilight saved Trixie, that last time,” and it was a very good thing that her eyes were closed, for she never saw the look of pain and anguish that flashed across Twilight’s face at those words, “she tried, she really, really tried! Trixie really tried to be just a simple performer. It was, after all, everything she’d ever wanted to be. And it was what her cutie mark kept saying was her destiny. But,” she swallowed, throat growing tight but gamely forging on, “but, everywhere Trixie went, she was mocked. Scorned and belittled. Chased —literally chased!— out of towns. Until . . . until, finally, Trixie admitted to herself what everypony had always told her: she was a pitiful failure. So . . . so Trixie swore —swore!— to give up performing. Trixie had apologized to you for having been so full of jealousy and vengeance that she had willingly used such an evil object as the Alicorn Amulet,” and now tears freely flowed down Twilight’s face, “and you had accepted her apology. So Trixie had made a vow to herself, you see, that she would not squander your apology. That she would prove herself worthy of your forgiveness. But as long as she persevered in futile ambitions, Trixie risked falling victim, once again, to the resentment of failed hopes. And so . . . Trixie swore, over a year ago, to stop performing. But . . . but it didn’t matter.”

Blinking back tears, Twilight opened her eyes as Trixie’s voice faded, then stopped. All the bitterness still inside herself abruptly vanished, as Trixie’s words actually registered, and at the tears silently streaming down the unicorn’s cheeks.

“Trixie’s cutie mark . . . it never stops whispering to her,” she finally repeated. “No matter how hard she tries and tries.” Wiping her eyes with the back of a hoof she finally looked at Twilight. “So, yes: Trixie understands. The only difference between us is that Trixie does not want to listen to her cutie mark; does not want to “follow her destiny”,” she actually spit, “but nothing prevents her from doing so but herself. While you want to follow your destiny . . . but are denied the opportunities to do so.”

“You do not —I repeat: do not!— want to fall asleep on your pancakes . . . again,” Spike mock-growled. Both Twilight and Trixie were unsuccessfully battling yawns, being quite a bit short on sleep. As it had turned out, Spike did have to chivvy them off to bed (just without a pointed stick). However, he could sense a great deal of emotional turmoil in each of them, so he’d simply sighed in silent resignation as he escorted them to one of the well-appointed parlors.

He’d returned a few minutes later with a fresh tea service, along with some fresh-squeezed orange juice, a carafe of chilled spring water, and two glasses. It was obvious they were too wound up to sleep, and besides, Spike had long ago learned that it was one thing to shelve a line of research until morning, and quite another to (try) shutting down emotions just to meet a bedtime.

Sliding a plate of pancakes before Twilight, then one of waffles before Trixie, Spike piped, “There you go! Made to order”

“Thanks, Spike.” “Thank you, Spike.”

Whatever it was that had both of them overwrought last night seemed to have either run its course, or, at least, been temporarily dealt with, he thought. Yeah, they were drowsy and groggy, but they were also clearly forging their way back to consciousness. When he’d gone to wake them this morning, something had him decide to check the parlor first, which is where he’d found the both of them . . . curled up together on the couch. It hadn’t looked the most comfortable of positions, he’d thought, but, based on their expressions, they’d seemed to think it had been.

“Trixie . . . could use some advice. If you wouldn’t mind?”

As Twilight was, at the moment, chewing a heroic mouthful of her favorite pancakes, Spike spoke up. “From Twilight, or me?”

“Either. Both, actually.”

“OK. Shoot.”

“Well, Trixie has started her research,” she didn’t bother to explain what research, since she knew both dragon and alicorn were aware of her project. “And, for now, has had no difficulty with finding willing ponies to assist by being examined. However . . .” she trailed off for a moment, “However, they are also adults. Trixie would also like to have colts and fillies, as well. But Trixie does not think it is proper, or responsible, to ask any without getting prior parental consent.”

Swallowing her mouthful, Twilight nodded as she took a swallow of water. “I agree. Out of curiosity, though, what is your line of reasoning wanting colts and fillies vis-a-vis mares and stallions as part of your data?”

“Actually, Trixie is not expecting to find any differences. However, if there are any, she wishes to discern any possible changes that maturation might trigger. That serves two purposes,” she stated. “One is to identify what, if any, do occur. The other is to have data on fillies Scootaloo’s age, to serve as a comparative reference. There is also an ancillary purpose: when it becomes time to examine Scootaloo herself, she will have no reason to suspect anything.”

Nodding at each point as Trixie stated them, Twilight thoughtfully chewed another forkful. “Well, you’re right about it being irresponsible to conduct examinations on children without parental knowledge and consent. Might I make a suggestion?”

“Trixie would welcome that.”

“I was thinking about printing up permission slips, requesting volunteers to help assist with a research project, that we would furnish Miss Cheerilee to distribute to her students to take home.”

“You have additional thoughts on that, yes?”

Softly blushing, Twilight nodded. “How would you feel if the slips were phrased that suggested that you were assisting me with the project?”

Taking another bite of delicious waffle, Trixie simply shrugged. Once she’d swallowed, “Trixie doesn’t mind at all. She is certainly not offended. The important matter is not which one of us accomplishes anything, after all. The important matter is purely seeing to it that, if at all equinely possible, Scootaloo flies.”

“Trixie may assume that others have already examined, poked and prodded, and tested Scootaloo already?”

“Good assumption, yes,” Twilight nodded, setting several massive tomes down on the desk. “At first, I think everypony simply assumed she was a late bloomer. That does happen, after all.”

Trixie nodded, not that she had any practical experience with such a thing. However, even with the short amount of researching she’d already conducted, it was readily apparent that outliers in foal development existed in both directions: some early, and some late, bloomers, so she could easily see why Scootaloo’s inability to fly hadn’t been obvious to anypony.

“However, as she got older, there was a growing concern when it became clear she couldn’t even get off the ground, let alone hover, let alone actually fly. So, at that point, yes, a lot of “poking and prodding” started.”

“But nothing was discerned?”

Deeply sighing, Twilight shook her head. “No. Not a thing. I’ve even examined her. Wait . . . not like I think that—— Hey!”

As the sugar cube bounced off Twilight’s head, Trixie just frowned at her. When the remaining sugar cubes in the bowl menacingly hovered in silent threat, Twilight smothered a giggle behind a forehoof. “OK, OK. Je cède.”

With multiple plops, the sugar cubes settled back in their bowl. “So . . . where were we?”

“A pot belly,” Trixie grumbled. “Trixie is going to have a pot belly very soon.”

“Tell me about it,” Twilight groused. “I already have a pudge,” she pouted, as she rubbed her slightly-rounded belly.

“We~have~a~gy~ymn!” Spike sing-songed as he cleaned up from lunch.

“It’s the “Scholar’s Curse”, Spike,” Twilight nobly proclaimed. “Yes?” she prompted, turning to face Trixie, sensing she wanted to say something.

“Tr-Trixie should exercise more,” she confessed. “But she . . . she does not like doing it by herself.”

“Huh,” Twilight grew thoughtful, then touched. “I suppose I could join you, then. If that would he-hey-hey-hey!” she stuttered to a halt, beetling her brows at Trixie. “Were you just hornswoggling me?”

With a sniff and elevated muzzle worthy of the Canterlot elite, Trixie dismissed, “Trixie has no idea what you are talking about.” It might have even worked, too, except for the twinkle in her eyes.

Gazing down at her belly, lightly touching it again with her hoof, Twilight drew a deep breath before gusting it out. “I’ve always been a pudge,” she murmured, so softly that Spike and Trixie were sure that Twilight hadn’t even realized she’d spoken aloud.

Another deep breath, and she looked up at them both, a forlorn little smile playing on her lips. “At first it was “foal fat”,” she softly murmured. “And then “filly fat”. But even as I grew older, it never disappeared. Never disappeared,” she wistfully sighed.

“Twilight?”

“Hmmm? Yes, Trixie?”

“Trixie does not think you look at all a pudge. Trixie thinks you look quite fine as you are,” she stated with absolute guilelessness. “And while Trixie was teasing before, she was also partly serious. It . . . it is not that she does not like exercising by herself, it is because she . . . she does not like the memories doing so evokes.”

Both Spike and Twilight were alarmed at the way Trixie’s face had paled, and the way her voice had tremulously trailed to silence.

“However . . .” taking a slow deep breath, she slowly, yet sincerely, smiled. “However,” she said, briskness to her tone, “Trixie does have a great deal of experience with flexibility, endurance, and balance exercises. So if you would be willing, Trixie would enjoy, she thinks, in exercising with you.”

Trixie had no idea how she wasn’t bursting into flames. Her heart was racing, she felt flushed and lightheaded, and the tingles! Hooo!

After lunch, Spike, Twilight, and Trixie had headed to the Library, where they’d worked on the permission slip phrasing before settling on the final version. Once they had, Twilight had Replicated a stack of forty slips (not that we need that many, but, just in case), had written a note to Miss Cheerilee, explaining what the slips were for, and then had passed them over to Spike, asking him to deliver them to Miss Cheerilee, for distribution to her students after the weekend break.

Once Spike had scurried off, Twilight had turned to Trixie, her eyes quickly growing fiery, an expression that had Trixie’s heart start racing. Although there was a soft blush to Twilight’s cheeks, she seemed much more . . . composed, much more controlled, than ever before. Rather like somepony who knew what she wanted —or whom she wanted— knew exactly where to find that . . . and wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Let’s go to the Laboratory, shall we?”

A little detour was needed first; Trixie almost stuttering when she asked if she could bring her saddlebags along. Twilight was obviously curious, and was just as obviously tempted to ask, but marefully resisted that urge . . . somehow.

When Twilight had opened the concealed door into her “special room”, that temptation increased by leaps and bounds when Trixie, again stammering, asked for fifteen minutes before Twilight entered.

Once inside, Trixie entered the bathroom area, and then started unloading the saddlebags, carefully sitting each package on the counter. Her heart was racing so fast she felt dizzy, so flushed she felt wobbly. She stifled a low moan, feeling the signs of arousal, and nothing had even happened yet!

Carefully unpacking everything, and neatly organizing the items in the order as needed, she came across a small, folded packet that she didn’t remember. Puzzled and curious, she opened it up. Inside was a small brooch she'd never seen before, and tears sprang to her eyes as she read the little note that was included:

I might be wrong, darling, but I don’t think so. Best wishes! ~Rarity



Pacing back and forth, Twilight started chuckling at herself. I can’t ever remember being this impatient before! And she truly couldn’t recall any instance where she was virtually prowling with impatience! I suppose that’s what happens when you throw emotion into the mix! she twitted herself. Well . . . that, and lust.

She had absolutely no desire to chuckle at that, since it was categorically true. Maybe it had taken her a few days to come to that realization —she had been, no pun intended, in all aspects utterly virginal— but, once she had, she’d fully accepted the understanding that her biology had finally ignited.

Hasn’t it been fifteen minutes yet? she groused. It was bad enough that it’d been four whole days! since they’d been together . . . well, four whole days since she’d “bought” her little pet . . . four whole days to daydream about all the wickedly naughty things she could, and wanted, to do, to and with, her pet.

Now, add to that mix her intense curiosity about whatever surprise her little pet was preparing . . .

As her Mage clock wound down to the last few seconds, Twilight was vibrating with impatience and passion. The instant that the fifteen minutes were up, the exact second . . .

Lurching through the concealed doorway, Twilight almost stumbled inside. Blushing at her fillyish impatience and clumsiness, Twilight regained her balance then looked about. She didn’t have to look very far, as Trixie was just in front of her. Trixie was . . .

. . . was . . .

. . . was . . .

Trixie was standing there, a mere fifteen hooflengths away, her head demurely tipped downwards. She was . . . was . . .

Twilight just stood there, as frozen as if having just stared at a cockatrice. However, that was the only thing “frozen” about her. Fire surged through her veins, her belly tightened into a tight, throbbing knot, her skin felt like lava.

Trixie was wearing a perfectly fitted, black, cotton dress, trimmed at the hem, ends of foreleg sleeves, and throat with white ruffled fabric. The sleeves were short sleeves, only at the forelegs, halfway between shoulder and knee, while the skirt was pleated, and seemed somewhat . . . short. In front was a tidy, white half-apron, secured around the waist by a fabric belt colored the same pink hue as the central star of Twilight’s cutie mark, and tied in a wide bow in back. Perched atop her head was a small black cap, trimmed in white ruffled lace. Her forehooves were covered in elegant, small-heeled, black shoes that just covered her hooves. Kneehigh black fishnet stockings covered rear legs up to her knees, and held in place by dainty black garters, trimmed top and bottom with white ruffles, the outsides decorated with delicate pink bows the same color of the apron belt. The rear shoes were identical to the fore shoes, except these had tiny pink bows at their throat. About her neck was a wide, white fabric choker, and she was holding a feather duster in her teeth.

Something glittered at the front of the choker . . . a wide, oval brooch . . . consisting of a single pink tourmaline surrounded by five white topaz.

Twilight just stood there, stunned, eyes round as saucers. And then Trixie . . .

Slowly sinking into an exquisite curtsy, and with barely a tremor to her voice, Twilight’s exquisitely-garbed Prench maid murmured, “How may your little pet serve you?”