Like a bubble of air glacially rising in a bottle of molasses, Trixie began slowly rousing from deep slumber. For what seemed like ages she hovered in that delicious edge between somnolence and wakefulness, feeling as if she were floating in swaddling warmth, comfort and safety.

For the first time in what felt like forever she felt fully rested and refreshed, but there was also no sense of urgency about fully waking, either. She gently wriggled, feeling a bit restive and restricted, then gave a little yawn, both of which felt quite odd.

As she grew closer to consciousness she gradually realized why she felt so odd, at first distantly aware of her position, and then of the confining garment she was wearing. Her lips quirked in a little unseen smile; this wasn't the first time she'd tried going to sleep restrained, but always before she'd awoken during the night and, feeling dissatisfied and wistfully unfulfilled, had freed herself before going back to sleep. Somehow, this time had been different, and she'd managed to go the entire night without being fidgety or discontented.

She knew she'd gone the entire night simply because of how, well . . . wonderfully rested she felt. And she'd had the oddest dreams, too.

Trixie wanted to just float for hours in that dreamy, twilight state, luxuriating in the glowy feelings. However, she wasn't at all used to being confined this long. Her forelegs were complaining a bit, and her hips and elbow were aching a tad from pressing against the floor.

Wait.

What?

Why wasn't she in bed? And if she wasn't in bed, what was her head pillowed on? What—

Suddenly she tensed, sharply inhaling, as she fully roused, now wide awake. Those dreams . . . they hadn't been just dreams!

“Shhhh. I'm still here.” Then came a soft chuckle, kindly, not mocking, as a hoof began soothingly stroking her mane. “But it is probably time you woke up, sleepyhead.”

A moment of incipient panic flared, then vanished, both the touches and the tone of the words extinguishing that flutter of fear.

But then that fear rekindled as Trixie felt Twilight's body tense, as that stroking hoof froze. When she felt her trembling, when she heard the rapid, panicky panting, that fright incandesced.

Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. And since Twilight had been perfectly fine until Trixie had woken up, it had to be something Trixie had done. She didn't know what that could be, but there was no other explanation. And suddenly something that had seemed so bright and glorious just moments ago started crashing down towards ruination.

Just like everything in Trixie's life that had ever meant anything had done.

The panicking alicorn felt Trixie tense up, then saw her body hunch in on itself as a soft anguished whimper pierced straight through to Twilight's heart. She began hyperventilating as her mind overloaded with scenarios and possibilities.

What do I do? Do I just get up, stroke some more, tell her I hope she liked it, then take off the ring and leave so she can have privacy to release herself? Do I release her? What do I say? What do I do? How do I do it? What does she want? What does she expect? How is this supposed to go? How do I make this perfect?

Oh sweet Sun and Moon! She had to do something, and fast!

“I . . . I don't know what to do!” she blurted, her voice distressed, and not at all realizing she'd spoken aloud.

Poised on the brink of bursting into tears Twilight's anguished tone held Trixie from crossing that precipice.

“I . . . I never rehearsed this! I mean, I . . . I never pictured actually getting to this point! What am I supposed to do?” Suddenly Trixie flashed over from near-tears to almost laughter, the hysterical sense of the absurd doing what nothing else could have done to salvage the situation. She could clearly picture what Twilight was looking like right this moment: both forelegs waving in random, erratic circles in the air, her mane starting to frizz and pop, maybe even that little tic under her eye.

Squirming forward a bit and jerking her head she butted Twilight in the belly.

“You could start by unwrapping Trixie's head you know.”

“Huh? Oh. Oh! Of course!”

Moments later Trixie felt herself cocooned in a web of magical energy. In one smooth, easy motion she was lifted up and positioned sitting on the floor, wrapped hind legs extended outwards in front of her. Still secure in that web of magic she felt another flare envelope her muzzle. Within moments the bandage encasing her head was being unwound, and as soon as the sleep mask was revealed yet another flicker of magic reached out, slipping that up and off.

The instant she could see Trixie whipped her eyes to Twilight, and felt a double flash of mixed emotions. It was obvious the anxious alicorn's attention was fully focused on Trixie, yet nopony could have told that based upon the precise control she was exercising manipulating multiple objects, including rerolling the bandage at the same time as she was unwrapping it from Trixie's head. The sense of the absurd bubbled up again; that bandage had probably not been that neatly rolled even coming from the store! She felt a stab of envy seeing that control, yet that was buried very far beneath the complex upwelling of emotions engendered by what she saw in Twilight's enormous, rounded eyes.

Trixie wasn't propped up against anything; the only thing keeping her from helplessly —and painfully— falling backwards was the web of magic holding her upright. Oddly enough, except for an initial flutter of panic she simply relaxed and accepted that support, trusting in it.

Her eyes followed the now re-rolled bandage and sleep mask as they floated over to the small counter and settled there. Swallowing, she worked her jaws a little and sucked her tongue, trying to work up a little moisture.

“Thirsty?”

Without thinking she nodded; it was a simple question with a simple answer; there was nothing to rouse any suspicions and so she simply answered it.

A cabinet opened; a glass floated out, surrounded in the corona of Twilight's aura, then was positioned under the spigot at the sink. The faucet handle turned, and water burbled from the small, freshwater cistern inside the wagon. Trixie watched as Twilight filled the glass, and it didn't escape her notice that her alicorn captor seemed quite familiar with the layout of her wagon.

“Here you go.”

Violet-grey eyes rounded in surprise as the glass hovered at her lips; a sudden, heated flush spread through her; her skin twitched and shivered. She darted a quick glance at Twilight and saw nothing there but concern.

It was a decidedly odd sensation sipping from a glass held to one's lips when one was also trussed up. She felt a touch embarrassed, more than a touch cared for . . . and quite a bit totally controlled. Her ears felt hot; they flicked back and forth, unable to decide where to settle, and her cheeks had to be visibly glowing.

They felt a lot hotter when Twilight suddenly softly smiled, because there was no mistaking the fact that she'd noticed Trixie blushing. It was a very odd smile; partly mischievous and partly naughty, but mostly tenderness and indulgence.

Carefully sipping Trixie slowly emptied the glass, eyes focused on Twilight's the entire time.

“More?”

Gently shaking her head she replied, “No, but thank you,” and watched as the glass floated over to the sink and was set inside before she returned her gaze back to Twilight. No sooner was the immediate problem of rehydration taken care of then the alicorn's eyes started to glaze again as she started panting her way back to hyperventilation.

“Twilight.”

“Twilight.”

“Twilight!”

“Huh? Wha?”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “Is there a particular reason you're Twilight-twitching and Sparkle-spazzing?”

“Wha!?” she flustered. “I'm what? What . . . where . . . who . . . ,” she trailed off, flabbergasted into silence by the ridiculousness, then her face contorted as she struggled not to laugh. “I'm doing what?” she repeated, somewhat breathlessly.

“You know: this,” Trixie replied, then did an incredibly accurate imitation of Twilight at her worst, the effect less than one-hundred-percent accurate only due to the twin facts of her inability to wave forelegs around and about, or have her mane pop, curl and frizz.

Smothered giggles echoed in the confines of the wagon as Twilight, cheeks brightly blushing, covered her face with her hooves, losing the battle for composure, and Trixie joined in, pleased by the effect she'd caused.

Lightly pounding her chest Twilight finally caught her breath. “Hoooo!” she gustily exhaled.

Trixie, still grinning, tipped her head and gazed at her for a bit before growing serious. “You haven't answered Trixie, you know.”

Taking a deep breath the alicorn nodded. “I know.” She seemed to gaze off into the distance for a half a minute, and Trixie could see her visibly struggling to remain calm. “I messed up,” she finally whispered.

Trixie's belly tightened and clenched. She kept a smile plastered on her face.

Twilight lowered her gaze back down, and the heartsick unicorn was stunned to see unshed tears shimmering in her eyes.

“I spent all this time planning on setting up for something like last night,” she whispered. “But I never thought about what to do afterwards.”

Her heart stopped for a moment before restarting, as the lump of ice in her belly started thawing.

Twilight looked thoroughly miserable, mindlessly waving around a forehoof. “I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. Now now; you know? I don't know what's right to do or say, or what's expected. And I wanted everything to be perfect.”

“Why? So you'd get a perfect grade?” In a different tone that could have sounded sarcastic or nasty. Instead, it sounded merely curious.

It might sound merely curious, but Trixie's heart was fluttering quite oddly as she waited for the answer.

“What? No!” came an instant reply. “I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

How odd. She'd just had a full glass of water and yet here her mouth was dry again.

“Just for Trixie?” she softly asked, then felt her heart thump quite sharply as Twilight's face ignited.

“mumblemumblemumble.”

Trixie tipped her head. “Trixie didn't quite catch that.”

“It didn't have to be perfect for me,” she repeated, just the teeniest bit louder. “But I was a bit selfish,” she admitted, “because I did want last night for me, too,” Twilight very softly whispered.

Her skin felt warm and tingling; her insides jittery, little thrills racing along her nerves. She did have an answer for Twilight, but she wasn't sure she was brave enough to supply it, since giving that answer would also be revealing a great deal.

“Ah . . . Twilight?” she finally worked out, voice quivering a bit.

“Yes?” Twilight's ears swiveled forward, hearing the odd timbre in the unicorn's tone.

“Trixie,” she garbled, then softly coughed and gamely forged on, “Trixie doesn't think that was being selfish at all. And Trixie would also like to point out that, as the situation currently obtains, what Twilight plans on doing 'afterwards' is, ah,” she paused a breathless moment, her ears feeling as if they were bursting into flames, “entirely in her own hooves, as Trixie is in no position to gainsay her.”

Trixie can't believe she just said that!

From Twilight's expression, she couldn't believe that, either. Her eyes rounded, then pupils slowly expanded, growing enormous. Her nostrils flared, then flared again as her ears pivoted back and forth. The tip of her tongue peeked out past her lips, swiping them once before retreating. Trixie wasn't sure what her de facto captor was thinking or feeling. For that matter, she wasn't sure what she was thinking or feeling, either!

Especially when Twilight brought her eyes back up, fixing and focusing her gaze directly into Trixie's . . . eyes that were both smoky and fiery. Trixie abruptly swallowed . . . hard . . . as her belly did butterfly-flipflops.

The suddenly extremely intent alicorn started leaning towards Trixie, who quickly felt like a mouse gazing up at a steeply-stooping hawk . . .

“Ahhh!”

Twilight jerked back, a look on intense pain flashing across her face.

“What's wrong?” Trixie blurted, startled, shocked and concerned.

“Nothing. It's nothing,” she replied, hissing past gritted teeth.

Frowning, Trixie abruptly focused on Twilight, her brows furrowed in concentration, for the first time truly noticing the dark circles under her eyes. Only then did it really register that she was still in the same position as she had been last evening, a position that she must have remained in for hours and hours. “Twilight?” she asked. “Did you get any sleep at all? Have you been sitting there like that all night?”

Something had gone “pop” in her back, and it wasn't a good one, either. Her vision had actually spangled when that vertebra had shifted, and a band of muscle on either side was now spasming and knotting up. “Yesss,” she sibilated then, scrupulously honest, amended, “Well, no. Not really. Sleep that is. I might have dozed off a couple of times for a few minutes but I stayed awake all night. And yes, I've been like this all night. Why?”

Closing her eyes she altered her breathing into a more meditative pattern, focusing on overriding the waves of agony from her back, so she missed seeing Trixie's expression, which perfectly combined exasperation with wondrous awe.

“Actually, Trixie would like to know why.”

“I promised to keep you safe. To watch over and protect you. I couldn't do that if I was sleeping. And I would have woken you up if I had moved. And you were sleeping so peacefully I didn't want to wake you by moving.”

Twilight wasn't at all good at dissembling even on one of her good days; primarily focused on meditative breathing and pain control she was even blunter than usual. Which, as it turned out, was a good thing, for there was no way to mistake the absolute honesty of her replies.

A tight band about her heart that Trixie hadn't even been aware of loosened; that frozen lump in her core melted away. Her own vision swam, but hers was caused by tears rather than pain. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice rough and rasped. She stored up this moment as the priceless treasure it was . . . as the only such treasure she'd ever been given . . . then took a deep breath and composed herself.

“Trixie thinks Twilight could use a nice, long, hot soak in a tub followed by a good massage.” She stifled —barely!— a giggle at the pained princess' moan. “Trixie thinks Twilight thinks that sound like a good idea.”

Another moan, along with a nod.

“Ah . . . Twilight?”

“Yessss?”

A bit tartly: “Not that Trixie wants to tell you your business, but Trixie thinks it might be a good idea if you finished freeing her.”

This time she did giggle, because Twilight's expression was priceless. “Sorry,” she sheepishly apologized, then took a deep breath before focusing to the task at hoof. The aura about Trixie deepened a moment before she was lifted up several inches. Once hovering, Twilight began the task of unwrapping Trixie's hind legs. And just as she had done with the head/muzzle bandage she rerolled each one as she unwound it.

Once her hind legs were completely freed Twilight gently settled her back down until sitting on the floor, this time with Trixie's back to her. It was foal's play to unbuckle the straps and, once they were all unbuckled and the lacings loosened, she carefully lifted it up, over and off the unicorn's head.

Softly groaning the just-unbound unicorn stretched, reveling in the freedom and in the sensation. Stretching a second time she then carefully rolled to the side, up onto folded legs, then finally up on her hooves, Twilight by this time having extinguished the magics cocooning her secure. Once on her hooves she gave a mighty shake, sighing in such contentment that Twilight, still in pain as she was, giggled.

“Hold still a moment,” she said, then her horn momentarily glowed as she lifted the dispersion ring off Trixie's horn and deposited it back into the neck pouch.

Neither even considered the fact, nor thought to wonder, why removing the ring had wound up being the absolute last action performed.

There were countless questions circulating in Trixie's mind at the moment; some objective, some subjective; some of immediate importance, some that could wait until later; some that pertained to Trixie, some to Twilight and, well . . . some for the two of them, together. But they were all going to have to wait.

Drat it!

Her own legs felt stiff; she didn't even want to consider how Twilight's felt! Pausing a moment by one counter Trixie withdrew one of her neckpouches from inside the drawer there, then surreptitiously checked how many bits she had left. Her face drew into an unhappy frown; she was pretty sure she didn't have enough for a hot tub soak and massage. Oh well, it wasn't as if this would be the first time she bartered hard work in exchange for a service or item.

Draping the drawstring over and down her neck, then settling the neckpouch in place, she turned to Twilight, who remained sitting on the floor. “If Trixie helps you stand, do you think you can walk at all?” She chewed on the inside of a cheek. “Trixie knows it is a long walk to Ponyville, but she thinks an hour or two in the spa will work wonders for you. I understand Lotus Blossom and Aloe can do therapeutic massage.”

Actually, understand was all she could do, having no personal experience herself. She'd never really had the bits before to pay for such an extravagant luxury, and she certainly couldn't afford such a thing now!

If Twilight was unable to walk, Trixie would dig out the harness and pull the wagon to Ponyville, if that's what it took to get her there. That . . . wasn't exactly optimal, of course, since there'd be no way of discreetly doing so, and, ponies being ponies, there would likely be gossip about the reasons why this early in the morning their Princess of Friendship was finding herself lame in Trixie's wagon.

“I have no idea Trixie,” the alicorn replied. “And it's not just my back; I can't feel my rump.”

Trixie's face started wrinking and crinkling; little muffled snorts issued from her. She tried to control it, she truly did because, to be honest, she really was worried about Twilight. But she couldn't help it: between her expression and hearing that her butt had fallen asleep, well . . .

It took several minutes of slow, careful effort, but Twilight finally managed getting up onto her hooves, helped a great deal with Trixie's magic supporting her as she rose. But as marefully as she'd struggled for composure before, Trixie couldn't help but giggle once she had.

“Aye yai yai!” “Eeee!” “Yow!” “Pins-and-needles! Pins-and-needles!”

As the sensation slowly returned to her hindquarters Twilight danced in place, a quite comical expression on her face. Keeping one eye on her, continually supporting her in a faint azure aura, Trixie manually set up a small kettle and set it atop the stove, moving a bit clumsily, more used to doing so with magic than with hooves. While that was heating she took down a teacup, reserving her magical focus for keeping Twilight safely and securely supported, sitting it on a saucer before filling an infuser with leaves from a particular canister. Her time at the Pie family's rock farm had taught Trixie quite a lot about the medicinal properties of certain strains of tea, especially ones most useful for strained muscles and achingly sore bodies.

Twilight kept trying to reach around and behind to rub the circulation back faster and ease the intense tingling, but every time she tried her back would painfully spasm again. The muscles were so knotted by now that her wings couldn't remain closely folded to her sides and, instead, drooped a bit. “I'm not sure if I'll be able to walk the entire distance,” she admitted. “At least not any time soon. Maybe I'll just wink-skip along the path. It'll be faster that way, anyway, and wouldn't involve that much walking. Oh! Thank you!” she effused, as Trixie guided the steamy cup over to the counter near her.

Taking an appreciative sniff she immediately recognized the aroma, identifying the strain as a muscle relaxant and analgesic. She turned to fully face Trixie, smiling as she did, intending to thank her again for the thoughtfulness, but jerked to a halt, eyes widening at Trixie's expression.

“Is anything the matter?”

“No, no! Everything is fine!” she replied, her voice sounding suspiciously bright and chirpy.

Twilight's eyes narrowed. If everything was fine than she was a Sun-loving thestral. The pain was ignored now as her mind started whirring and analyzing. Trixie could see that intense focus spiral up and snap into place, and her belly felt like lead at that. Twilight was on the hunt, and she wasn't going to leave this alone until she got an answer she was satisfied with.

It wasn't an answer she wanted anyone, least of all Twilight, to know.

Dunking the infuser a few times she lifted it out of the cup and sat in on the edge of the saucer before “lifting” the cup up before her muzzle. Gently blowing across the surface a few times she took a testing sip, all the while intently gazing at Trixie as she did.

Oh please Twilight! Just, for once! leave something alone. Don't keep digging and prying!

“I guess we could just walk, though,” Twilight said. “If you'd rather?”

Trixie's head drooped and hung as a soft sigh gusted from her.

“It's nothing to be ashamed about you know,” Twilight softly murmured.

Easy for you to say! Trixie felt anger, fueled by humiliation, flare inside her. Little Miss Princess of Friendship! Celestia's prized protégé! You've always had it easy! You've always had everything given to you! You—

Her fury slithered to an abrupt halt as several memories suddenly surfaced. It hadn't been even a year since Trixie had experienced the fright of her life: the utter and complete loss of all her magic. Within several days that had returned to her, as instantly as it had vanished, but it hadn't been until she'd returned to Ponyville that she'd learned what had occurred, and why that had happened. It hadn't been terribly difficult to discover; everypony here was so incredibly proud of their Princess . . .

Nopony's ever been proud of Trixie, no matter what she's done.

. . . and of the role she'd played in saving all of Equestria from being conquered and enslaved by Lord Tirek.

“Not every unicorn is good at teleporting,” Twilight was continuing. “Or even like “winking”, for that matter. It's an innate talent, true, but that doesn't mean we all share the same ability with it.”

No, Twilight hasn't just been given everything. She's worked hard to be a success. The only difference between her and Trixie is that Trixie always fails, no matter how hard she tries.

For one of the very few times in her life Twilight hadn't dropped fully —yet, anyway— into “lecture mode”. Because of that she was a touch more sensitive to, and aware of, her surroundings. Her words trailed off as she looked a bit closer at Trixie, and suddenly understood the reality of the situation.

“It's OK to be afraid, too.”

Trixie jerked as if hit by a lightning bolt. She knew!

Tears filled her eyes. The one unicorn —well, alicorn, now— in all of Equestria that Trixie wanted to impress, that she wanted to like Trixie . . . knew she was afraid.

Afraid, of all things, of the perfectly natural, and normal, ability all unicorns possessed.

“What would you know about being afraid of anything?” she miserably choked out.

“You've met Rainbow Dash before, right?” Actually, Twilight was well-aware they'd met; that was intended more as a prefatory remark than anything else. “You know: All-around athlete? Flier extraordinaire? Wonderbolt Trainee? Utterly fearless and totally confident? Doesn't know the meaning of the words 'danger' or 'fear'?”

Taking a sip of tea, feeling the warmth spreading throughout her, Twilight continued. “I'd only been a Princess for a couple of days before the Coronation.” Trixie looked up, a bit confused at the apparent non sequitur. “I really hadn't had time for a lot of what had happened, what had changed, to really register or sink in. Particularly these,” she added, giving her wings a twitch, then wincing at the pain that flared across her back as she did.

“The Coronation, well . . . I don't remember much of it. It was pretty emotionally intense. If I'd have been a changeling I would have gained a ton off of all the emotional energy there. One thing I do remember, though, was at the end. I was standing on the balcony, waving to everypony, and I was so thrumming with emotion that I just launched into the air and flew about Canterlot Castle.”

Twilight took another, deeper sip. “The next day, after breakfast, I went out for a walk. I paused at one point at one of the balconies. That particular one overlooked the cliff, and way off and down, in the distance, below some clouds, I could actually see Ponyville. I walked up to the curtain wall and propped my forehooves up over the edge and just looked out and thought, 'I could just leap up and out and glide down there!'”

She paused a moment, gazing at Trixie as she sipped.

“And then I looked down again. Way down. Way, way down. Past the clouds and everything. All of a sudden my legs started trembling. I realized how high up I really was, and how far down the ground really was, and I panicked.”

Twilight gazed right into Trixie's eyes. “If I hadn't gone to the bathroom before going on that walk I would have wet myself in terror.”

The astonished unicorn's eyes widened in shock.

“If Spike hadn't figured it out it would have been really bad, but he climbed up on my back, covered my eyes and slowly talked me back from the edge. Figuratively and literally. And once I couldn't see down again, and once I could move my legs again, I bolted to the nearest shrub and threw up all over the place.”

“But . . . but Trixie has seen you fly!”

“Mm Hmm!” Twilight nodded. “I can, and do, fly. Now. And it took doing one of the hardest things I'd ever done in my life to do, too.”

When Twilight paused in obvious expectation of some sort of reply Trixie guessed, “Making yourself go back up in the air?”

“No,” she lopsidedly smiled. “That part was actually easier.”

“Then . . . what was it?”

Tipping the cup back she took a deeper swallow before once more looking directly at Trixie. “Telling Rainbow Dash, who had volunteered to be my flight instructor, who wasn't afraid of anything, that I was petrified of flying.”

Twin plumes of steamy vapour rhythmically jetted from flaring nostrils as they walked along the path, dry leaves crunching under their hooves. The air was crisp and quite chilly, and Celestia's sun hadn't as yet risen high enough to clear the top of the trees, so they walked along in the gloam, bereft of that blazing orb's heat.

Once they'd settled into a slow, almost mincing, steady walk Twilight took the thread of her story back up.

“She didn't believe me, of course. She started grinning, flutter-hopping around me, lightly punching my shoulder and saying things like 'Good one Twilight!' and 'Almost had me there for a moment'!” A rather crooked smile flashed across her face in memory. “And the more she good naturedly teased the smaller and smaller I felt. I just wanted a big ol' hole to open up and swallow me.”

Trixie nodded, having felt like that herself more times than she ever wanted to remember.

“The look on her face when she realized I was being totally honest and sincere was rather priceless though,” she continued. “Rainbow gets very flustered when she gets embarrassed, and she started blushing, backpedaling and stammering all over the place the moment she realized I really was petrified.”

That wasn't anything Trixie could picture the brash Rainbow Dash ever doing; getting embarrassed, that is. With the —thankfully— limited experience she had with that mare, Trixie simply couldn't imagine anything that could, or would, embarrass or fluster her.

“So . . . what happened?” she asked, when the alicorn had paused there.

Twilight gently shook her head —then winced as the sharp jolt of pain that elicited— and brought herself back to the present. “Well, once she truly realized I was serious, she talked with me for a bit, trying to help me figure things out. Which was hard to do, since I wasn't exactly sure why. I know, now, why I was having problems: I had locked myself into logic-objective mode —I do that sometimes, in case you hadn't noticed,” and waited long enough to see Trixie's reaction to that before grinning at her in self-deprecating humor, “and was missing the fact that, well, there was a lot of emotions driving those fears.”

Twilight suddenly came to a stop. “Are you all right?” Trixie asked in concern, then her brows lifted seeing the alicorn's expression: she was holding back a laugh!

“Ye-esss,” she replied. “I'm sorry. It's . . . it's just it always makes me laugh, remembering what Rainbow Dash did next.” Then she looked more seriously at Trixie. “Promise never to tease her about this?”

“As long as she does not need to stick a cupcake in her eye, then, yes, Trixie promises.”

“She fidgeted and squirmed, looking like she'd swallowed a toad and it had decided to head back up and out to freedom. I'd never seen her blush like that before. Then she took a couple of deep breaths, closed her eyes, opened her mouth . . .

“ . . . and started to sing.”

Trixie's jaw dropped. But before she could get her mind wrapped around that image she realized that Twilight was looking much the same way as she'd described Rainbow Dash as having looked.

Of course, once Twilight had taken a deep breath of her own, and had opened her mouth and started singing, Trixie understood why.

When I was a little filly and the sun was going down,

The darkness and the shadows, they would always make me frown . . .

It was probably the silliest song that she'd ever heard. And as much as Twilight excelled at everything else, singing wasn't one of those accomplishments. If anypony would know who was, and was not, a good singer, Trixie would.

Once finished Twilight seemed to smile at something only she could see, then after a few moments once again injudiciously shook her head to return from her woolgathering.

Wincing as she took the first step she started gingerly walking again. “The first time I'd ever heard that song,” she started explaining, “Was almost five years ago. It was the very day that Nightmare Moon had returned, in fact,” and Trixie's eyes widened a bit at that. “And the six of us were walking through the Everfree Forest on the way to the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters.” Twilight told about how, while trekking through a thick part of the Forest, they'd entered a grove of trees that had been enchanted by Nightmare Moon. All the trees there had had such awfully scary faces that all of them, Rainbow Dash included, had been terribly frightened.

Only Pinkie Pie had managed to control her fear, and had helped the others do so as well . . . by singing to them the exact song Twilight had just finished singing.

Trixie thought about that for a few moments, and was about to say something when Twilight beat her to it.

“I know: being afraid of flying, or of teleporting, isn't exactly the same as being afraid of a changeling in your bedroom closet or a windigo under the bed,” she said. “But there is something I hope you can take from that, the same way I was able to . . . once Rainbow Dash, of all ponies, pointed it out to me!” she grinned.

“What,” she swallowed, “What was that?”

This time, instead of singing, Twilight simply spoke the words. “'Pinkie, you gotta stand up tall; Learn to face your fears; You'll see that they can't hurt you; Just laugh to make them disappear.'” Turning her head a bit to look more fully at her companion she explained, “Rainbow Dash pointed out that I couldn't start laughing at my fears until I knew what, exactly, those fears were.”

Slowly ambling along she continued, “It took me a while, and with Rainbow's help, to figure those fears out. And it horribly embarrassed her, too, once I had . . . since, as it turned out, she was the root of a lot of them.”

“Really?” she blurted, startled, since as much as she disliked the brash, egotistical pegasus Trixie couldn't ever imagine her intentionally being the source of Twilight's fear, of all things, of flying.

“Yes, really. To start with, I eventually figured out that it's not heights I'm afraid of; I'm not inherently acrophobic. And it's not actually the fear of falling, although that was part of it.” Again she gave Trixie a lopsided grin. “It's that I was petrified of what happens at the sudden stop at the end of falling.”

Before she could do more than blink Twilight continued. “When I was a very young filly —still a foal, actually, I guess— I fell from a tree and broke my foreleg.”

“What were you doing in a tree?” Trixie blurted out, then blushed at her interrupting outburst.

Twilight then fiercely blushed. “I wanted to see the newly-hatched birds up in their nest. So I tried climbing up to see them.”

Her attempt at smothering a grin failed no sooner did she catch look at the alicorn's sheepish look. “You . . . you climbed a tree?” she breathlessly asked.

Still blushing she nodded. “Not very well, as it turned out,” she admitted, and suddenly Trixie's desire to smile was instantly swept away as she recalled what else had been said: “I fell from a tree and broke my foreleg.” She couldn't help but reflexively glance down at the alicorn's forelegs, and Twilight gave a little nod, as if she understood perfectly well and wasn't at all bothered by that inquisitive look.

“I've lost count of the times Rainbow's been in the infirmary or, for that matter, the hospital, because of her flight crashes. Some of them have been pretty serious, too. She always just dismissed those as “the cost of being the greatest flier ever”, but what I was also hearing was that those accidents, those injuries, were also the cost of simply flying.

“It also didn't help that, for years, Rainbow would regale us with the tales little foals, and young filly and colt, pegasus, told each other about the dangers of flying.”

Trixie's mouth suddenly went dry, her heart started hammering, as memories of her own unwantedly surfaced . . .

Outside the window a group of very young colts and fillies scampered, heading towards the playpark. She looked to her mother and wistfully pleaded, “Mother? May I, please, finish early and go out and play with the others?”

“Now Beatrix,” her mother scolded, “I've spoken with you before about this. Practice must come first! Now, since we've already warmed up with breathing exercises, let's continue with scales.” Holding up a pitch pipe she blew a note. “Breathe in through the nose; expand your belly, then your lungs. Now . . . La la la LA la la la,” she intoned, in pitch-perfect resonance.

“Yes Mother,” she softly replied, her vision swimming as her eyes filled. Breathing as she'd been trained she opened her mouth and began her scale singing exercises . . .

“Next semester we'll be taking teleportation classes!” a young filly enthusiastically exclaimed to the group. They all 'oohed' and 'aahed' in excitement, then a couple of them deeply shivered. “I hope none of us have an accident!” a colt nervously said.

“Acc—accident?” another one asked, although by the gulped swallow it was obvious he had some clue.

The small group clustered close together, paying no obvious attention to the small, brillant-blue unicorn with the dual-toned cornflower mane and tail that was hovering on their outskirts.

“You know,” another colt conspiratorially whispered, “Like the colt that thought he knew it all and just decided to wink without paying attention . . . and wound up in the middle of a tree!” he pitched his voice into a spooky tone, and was rewarded by the shivers and wide eyes of the group.

He played out three more chilling, dreadful scenarios, all the while she stood there, just outside the group, listening with increasing horror and terror.

“And then there was the filly that nopony liked, and when she teleported . . . she just disappeared, and was never seen again!” At that the colt turned around and stared right at Beatrix. “Bet you can't wait until teleportation classes, huh?”

And as she bolted off, sobbing, the entire group dissolved into braying, mocking laughter.

“Trixie? Trixie? You OK?”

Sharply shaking her head and forcibly banishing those memories once again she looked to one side, not meeting Twilight's eyes, refusing to let the alicorn see the tears swimming in her own. “I'm fine.”

No, you're not. And I wish I knew why. I don't right now . . . but one day I will! she vowed.

They paced along in silence for a while, Twilight more than willing to give Trixie however much time she needed to regain her composure.

That wound up being a great deal of time, in fact. Twilight was silently swearing to herself by the time they reached Ponyville's outskirts and started heading their way towards the perimeter of Town Square and to the Day Spa. Something had shut Trixie down, and she was sure and certain it was emotionally-based, something Twilight knew she was very inadequate at understanding, let alone dealing with. There was an odd, haunted look to her eyes that made Twilight's heart ache, and she wondered if anypony had seen that expression before . . . or had it been that nopony had cared to notice?

They were a bit early for the Day Spa to have opened, but Trixie knocked at the entrance anyway. A few moments later and the upper half of the Dutch door opened. “I am sorry, but we're not—,” Aloe started to explain, in that accent of hers that Trixie envied. Her eyes widened as she started in surprise. “Oh! Princess Twilight!”

“I know we're a bit early Aloe,” Trixie started saying, but was interrupted by a wave of an expertly-hooficured pink hoof.

Opening the lower half she motioned them inside. “For Princess Twilight?” she smiled; a true smile, and not a sycophantic one. “It is no problem at all.” Once they both had entered she closed the doors and walked over to stand behind the counter, as Lotus Blossom, quite curious, paced over to join her. It was rather unlike their Princess to just show up like this, as both of them were well-aware. In fact, usually she needed to be towed along behind Rarity for the infrequent times she had visited.

Both their heads pivoted as Trixie spoke up. “A hot soak and a massage, please? Tw— Princess Twilight has badly pulled a muscle in her back,” she started explaining, but got no further before Lotus Blossom's head jerked back towards the aching alicorn.

“A pulled muscle?” she repeated. At Twilight's nod she firmly pointed towards the sauna. “Let us get started right away. For now, we will start with a nice sauna bath. I will be right with you, Your Highness.”

The earth pony couldn't understand why Trixie had winced at that. At least, not until . . .

The sound of bits clinking was heard as Trixie emptied her neck pouch onto the counter. “Trixie doesn't think she has enough for both a hot soak and a massage . . . and she knows she doesn't have enough for a sauna bath, too,” she admitted, flushed with embarrassment. “Would . . . Could Trixie sweep and mop the next few nights in exchange for that?”

Trixie often did small jobs at the spa when she was short on bits, in exchange for a once-a-week hot bath, since her wagon didn't have a tub. Aloe was a bit confused, though, since Trixie did have just enough for a bath and basic massage. Lotus Blossom was just about to walk over to the sauna and add some water to the heated rocks there when she froze in place at what she was hearing, remaining utterly motionless save for one ear that surreptitiously swiveled to face behind her.

“But Trixie . . . you do have enough here for a bath and massage,” Aloe pointed out, sounding perplexed.

“Oh! No. No, the bath and massage isn't for Trixie, it's for Princess Twilight. She . . . she just doesn't have enough for a sauna bath, too,” she miserably admitted, pushing a few bits around with her hoof. “So could Trixie, please, work a couple of nights? However many it takes, in exchange for whatever is needed to take care of Twilight? And, maybe . . .” her voice lowered to a whisper, “Maybe Trixie could get a small, ten-minute hot soak, too?”

Successful spa ponies, much like bartenders, share one common trait: both are amateur psychologists. And the more talented and popular they are, the more skilled they are at reading the state of minds of their patrons and clients.

Both Aloe and Lotus Blossom were very popular with their clientele.

“Princess Twilight,” Lotus Blossom abruptly exclaimed, sounding quite pleased, “So you're finally redeeming your coupon!”

“Huh?” the baffled alicorn replied, having just hung her neck pouch on the cloak rack and was now paused in mid-step on her way to the sauna.

Drawing the appointment book out from beneath the counter she quickly scanned the page, assuring herself that her memory wasn't playing her false and that the morning hadn't been booked. As for the afternoon . . .

Chalk in mouth Lotus Blossom neatly scrawled on a blank slate the message “Royal Reservation Today” and would hang that on the front door in a few minutes. There were going to be a few disappointments this afternoon as scheduled patrons found their reservations had been unexpectedly canceled. However, finding out that it was for Princess Twilight's benefit would definitely smooth any potentially ruffled manes or feathers.

“Coupon? What coupon?” she asked, still sounding befuddled. Behind her she could almost hear Aloe going 'What coupon?'

“You ask us that every time we remind you of it, Your Highness,” Lotus Blossom smoothly replied. “It's the coupon redeemable for a full spa day, for you, and a guest.” She felt the heat of twin stares at her back but just blithely ignored them. Come on Aloe! she intently thought, as if she could, somehow, mindspeak her partner. You're usually not this dense!

Behind her she heard the clink of bits as they were swept back into a pouch, then heard Trixie's sharp inhale as it was returned to her. “Just hang it over there next to Princess Twilight's pouch,” Aloe instructed, “then join her in the sauna. Assuming she ever makes it there,” she teased, since Twilight was still frozen like a statue and utterly stupefied and confused.

Between the two of them tag-teaming them they didn't stand much of a chance. Trixie sounded like a motorboat, going 'But-but-but-but,' as Aloe gently but irresistibly nudge-pushed her over to the sauna. Twilight's eyes looked glazed for a moment as she parroted once again, “Coupon?” as she, too, found herself being impelled to the sauna.

Aloe added a few more hot rocks; Lotus Blossom ladled a dipper full of water onto them. With a fierce hiss steam roiled upwards, enveloping the two.

Once they were alone Trixie hissed, sotto voce, sounding much like the water had sounded. “Coupon?”

Draped over a bench Twilight shrugged, then she, too, hissed, hers resulting from the bright shaft of pain that injudicious motion had caused. “I . . . I don't remember a coupon,” she honestly admitted, sounding quite hesitant.

The skin around the unicorn's eyes tightened, and Twilight knew why. Being awarded an accolade was one thing; being given charity was quite another. There was pride, and there was pride, and in that Twilight would never fault Trixie for her refusal to accept outright charity.

“But if there was, or is, a coupon I don't remember having,” she said, peeping up at Trixie. “I would have used it today . . . with you.”