It . . . it doesn't look like any salamander I've ever seen before, she thought, feeling both puzzled and “itchy” . . . that same prickling she felt whenever confronted with something new and exciting.

Mere inches away was one of the more dangerous and deadly things one could encounter in all of Equestria: a Fire Elemental. She should be quaking in fear, shivering in atavistic dread and horror; all the more so because she knew she had no practical, actual experience with banishing an uncontrolled, unbound Elemental. In an eyeblink this thing could reduce Trixie's wagon, and everything inside —including both Twilight and Trixie— to less than ash.

She rocked back a bit as the salamander paused licking his gemstone treat long enough to . . . pout?

It was pouting at her?

It returned to licking its diamond, which was now visibly smaller than it had been at the start, watching her over the top of its dainty, and there was no mistaking that it was, indeed, watching her; coolly appraising her, it felt like, if that adjective didn't seem outrageous to use for a salamander!

Its eyes . . . they looked like carefully-banked hearth fires, nothing at all like the raging infernos she'd seen on those infrequent occasions before when facing a bound and confined Fire Elemental. Those times —she powerfully shivered; those memories still terrified her —those times those eyes . . . they'd looked like twin, tiny portals opened into the fire river that encircled Tartarus, and had figuratively emanated a hatred as intense as the heat they'd literally radiated.

What . . . what if it wasn't figurative? she deliberated. We're taught —all of us are taught— that the Primary Elementals are just constructs of their representative elements. That the Elemental Power we summon and bind just take on the appearance of living creatures; that we merely relate to them on a ponypomorphic level, by ponyificationing them. But . . . what if we're wrong?

The salamander had stopped licking its treat and was just looking at her. Looking. At her. There was intelligence in those eyes, something she'd never before seen in a Primary Elemental.

Or, much worse, something she'd never thought to look for.

And just how would I feel, she reflected, if somepony had the ability, and the power, to pull me from Equestria, my world . . . my home? To summon me from here to there; to impel and coerce me to appear before them? To force and compel me to obey them? And never —not once!— see me as a pony, but only see the power I have within me? Only see me as that power, and as a source for performing a task for them?

Those eyes, glowing and flickering, transfixed her.

I think I would be furious and enraged, too, she thought. She felt her jaw drop a bit as it lifted a brow at her, and a feeling of You think? powerfully swept over her at that gesture.

Her head rocked back a second time as a sudden realization stunned her. That's how Tirek looked at all of us! As nothing but sources of power for him to drain and use!

He returned to licking his delicacy, yet his eyes continued gazing at her. Her curiosity and knowledge-thirst was boiling inside, but one thought brightly burned before all of that: I will never, ever again summon, coerce or bind any Elemental, not for any reason!

At that he shocked her yet again: setting his treat down he stood tall, upright on his hind limbs, then crossed one forelimb across his chest while holding the other behind his back before bowing to her.

Unmistakably bowing.

There was a definite twinkle to those lambent balls of smoldering, flickering flames gazing her way as he straightened up and saw her reaction, yet there was also a great deal of respect there, too. Picking his treat back up he hunkered down and curled up, gently lapping and licking it as he did.

All of a sudden she heard a low cough behind her. Not a throat-clearing cough; not a “I've-got-something-stuck-in-my-throat” cough either. In fact . . .

My ears probably look like duplicates of him, she thought, feeling her face ignite as well. Twilight was, alas, quite familiar with that sound, since she'd heard it on a regular basis from her teachers. It was the distinct sound of “Please come back down to Equestria, Twilight, from wherever your mind has wandered and taken you.”

Oh sweet Sun and Moon! Trixie!

Twilight jerked around in her chair, eyes wide with mortification. Chagrin burned inside her, as well as a dreadful conflict, for she was truly torn, wanting to continue learning more about the salamander and exploring an entire new realm of possibilities, but also very much wanting to focus completely on Trixie, and all the possibilities she hoped might manifest there.

Trixie tipped her head a bit to one side as she finished filling her guest's teacup. Her brow next lifted, cocked in an obvious interrogative gesture. Twilight felt herself flushing even deeper, and might very well have melted in discomfiture on the spot if Trixie hadn't taken mercy on her.

“Trixie realizes it's a bit early to set a second date,” she said, a little smile teasingly playing on her lips, “but you're welcome to come back another day to sate your curiosity about him.”

“How?” Twilight blurted, unable to contain herself, and feeling her face grow even hotter.

“Trixie assumes you mean how, as in, how did he wind up here? How did Trixie call him? How has he wound up heating our water? Those types of 'how's?” she inquired, removing the small jug of cream from the ice box and then filling the tea service creamer.

Tearing her attention from the seductive presence of the salamander and focusing it towards her hostess she nodded. “You don't have to tell me,” she quickly said, for all of a sudden Trixie's countenance had fallen, her expression looking sad and subdued.

“No, it is alright,” she replied, sounded defeated as she shook her head. “Trixie does not mind answering. She doesn't expect you to think less of her,” because I don't think it is possible for anypony to think less of me as it is.

After filling the creamer pitcher the cream jug was returned to the ice box, after which the butter bell and the container of clotted cream was lifted out then positioned on the table. “Trixie couldn't help herself,” she whispered. “She tried, she really tried. But,” she sadly sighed, “one night, several months ago, she played as if giving a performance again.” Twilight winced, hearing the raw, deep anguish there in her voice. “She was doing some fireworks. Small ones, and illusionary only —the ground and trees were dry; Trixie did not want to start a fire— and, halfway through it, she noticed she had a visitor.”

Trixie motioned towards the salamander with her horn.

“Trixie knew what he was, of course. But since Trixie hadn't summoned him she would not easily be able to banish him.” Twilight nodded as she listened; that was certainly true, and no small part of the reason she'd panicked when seeing it—him in the first place. Having assumed Trixie had irresponsibly summoned the Elemental, that would have made it ever so much harder for Twilight to have banished him . . . assuming she'd have had the power to do so in the first place!

A soft little smile played about Trixie's face, so heartrendingly sweet and sad at the same time it made Twilight's heart ache. “So she really wasn't sure what to do. But, as it turned out, nothing needed doing after all. He'd come because of the fireworks, you see. Trixie doesn't know how he'd known of them, but he'd come anyway just to watch. To watch . . . and enjoy them.”

Finished with the preparations she sat in her chair, facing Twilight across the small table.

“Trixie has done fireworks for him several times now,” she said. “She doesn't really “talk” with him; she does have a feeling he understands Trixie far better than Trixie understands him. But if she just relaxes, and unfocuses her mind, she . . . umm . . . she feels him. Well, his thoughts, anyway. Or, at least, thinks she does.”

By her deep flush, Twilight felt certain Trixie was positive that Twilight thought she was either making that up, or was cracked up . . . or both. She certainly wasn't expecting the reaction she actually got.

“I'm really impressed, Trixie!”

Twilight had to struggle to suppress a giggle at Trixie's expression, although after an instant that struggle was easily won, for she had a strong suspicion that any manifestation of humor would destroy Trixie.

“No, seriously,” she assured. “I really am.”

“B-b-but . . . why?”

“Because,” Twilight said, her tone utterly serious and sincere, “I don't know anypony else that wouldn't have panicked seeing an unbound, uncontrolled Fire Elemental on the loose . . . let alone make a friend of one. That's really amazing, and truly impressive.”

Trixie blinked, rocking back a bit.

“So, yes . . . I would very much like to visit with you again. And not just to learn more about your friend.”

She was about to levitate three sugar cubes into her teacup but paused before plopping them inside. Princess Celestia liked teasingly twitting her former student about how she took her tea, and over the fact that Twilight insisted on sweetening tea she hadn't even, as yet, tasted. So, this time, instead of adding her usual sugars beforehoof, she carefully lifted the brew up, holding it in place as she gently blew across the steamy surface. Before even tasting it she noticed two things; for one, the teacup itself looked incredibly fragile, literally eggshell thin, and, for another . . .

Her eyes rounded into saucers, her ears swiveled forwards, as the fragrance wreathed her head. She'd never smelled anything this divine in her entire life!

She took a careful sip, and . . .

Twilight's eyes widened even further as the incredibly rich, complex flavors bloomed on her tongue and in her mouth. It tasted of crisp fall air, of the cold, clean bitterness of high skies, of wild, swift flight yet, at the same time, conveyed a sense of earthiness unlike anything she'd ever experienced before.

She took another sip, softly blinking as she did, feeling her skin twitching as her pinions gently rustled. “Sun and Moon!” she reverently breathed. “I've never tasted anything like this before!”

Trixie shyly smiled back, yet there was a touch of satisfaction to her expression that, as far as Twilight was concerned, certainly was deserved! “I was hoping you might like it,” she said with a pleased smile.

“Like it?” she replied, astonished. “I love it!” Trixie visibly wriggled in pleasure at that. “What blend of tea is this?” she asked as she took another, much more appreciative, sip. It was common knowledge amongst their subjects that their diarchs' preferential beverage of choice was as iconic as the Princesses themselves: Princess Luna enjoyed coffee —the stronger the better— whilst Princess Celestia was the archetypical tea drinker. Being Celestia's personal student and protégé meant that Twilight had been exposed to tea, tea services, and tea service traditions almost before most ponies learned hopscotch. But she'd never tasted tea like this before!

“It's Zhaneeling.”

For a moment it didn't register; Twilight actually had to dig through her formidable memory to pull up that reference but, once she had . . .

Her jaw dropped, and again her eyes widened in astonishment. “Zhaneeling?” Then something else caught her full attention; her eyes dropped to the tea service itself, gazing intently at the design, at the individual pieces, at the oddly geometric patterns they possessed. “Trix—” she lightly coughed, clearing a catch in her throat. “Trixie . . . is this what I think it is?”

Taking a delicate sip of her own tea Trixie gazed across the rim of her cup as it hovered before her. “It's from the Aubric Dynasty, yes.”

“H-how?” she stuttered. “W-w-why?” The Aubric dynasty was an ancient and revered Gryphonic line and, unless her memory was playing her false —something that never even crossed her mind might happen— Zhaneeling was an extremely rare Gryphonic tea that was normally reserved for their Royal line.

“I just wanted this to be something special for you.”

Having already tasted her own hoof mere minutes ago Twilight fought back the immediate, knee-jerk reaction: that Trixie was just grandstanding again, being ostentatious and putting on airs. And it was a good thing she had, too, since it took just an instant to realize that, once more, what she was seeing was shy reservation instead of gloating victory. That truly puzzled Twilight, but only for another heartbeat before the actuality suddenly hit her.

Socially awkward she might still remain at times, but she was also very much —in action as well as name— the Princess of Friendship now, and whether it was a result of her gradually-expanding experience, or truly was from that Magic, now and then Twilight was the recipient of blinding epiphanies.

This was one of those moments.

Sun and Moon! She . . . she just wants to be liked. She just wants me to like her!

She took another sip, rolling her eyes and moaning semi-orgiastically, a grin spreading across her face at Trixie's reaction to her enjoyment. “If everything else is only half as good as this, I'd say you've succeeded!” But then she grew serious, hating having to do so, but she still hadn't said what she'd meant to say at the very beginning.

Trixie noticed that change of expression, her own becoming almost blankly neutral and reserved. Twilight hated that, too, and quickly waved her hoof in a calming gesture. “I had something I wanted —well, needed, to be honest— to say when I first arrived.”

Taking a deep, calming breath she gazed directly into Trixie's eyes, her own frank, candid and sincere. “I want to apologize for disrespecting, and violating, your privacy. I had no right to do that.” This time she held her hoof up in a stilling gesture, stopping Trixie before she could reply as she so obviously was about to do.

“I broke into your home. Multiple times, not just that night. I set surveillance crystals inside without your knowledge or permission. I used a dispersion ring on you, and I foalnapped —well, falsely imprisoned you; not that the law would likely split that hair— you. And, possibly, worst of all . . .”

Twilight trailed off, taking another deep breath before gustily exhaling. “At the moment I'm neither sorry I did any of that, nor do I regret doing it.”

Trixie had started tensing up, especially at the “worst of all” portion, but was quite startled at what Twilight actually wound up saying.

Taking another bracing sip of tea Twilight finished, her eyes now gazing at the shimmering fluid under her muzzle, “I'm saying 'at the moment' because, if any of that has hurt you, has offended, wounded or upset you, in any way, then, yes, I'd be exceptionally sorry and extremely regretful.”

There was a somewhat uncomfortable silence for almost a minute, as they both just sat there sipping their tea, before Trixie finally replied. “Trixie must be honest: she is not happy about her privacy being violated.” Twilight winced at that but kept quiet. “Privacy is all Trixie has left to her name,” and again Twilight cringed. “But, as for the rest?” Her teacup gently settled atop its saucer. “She is not sure yet how to feel. And, again in all honestly, she won't know what to feel about that until she has answers.”

Twilight simply nodded. “Please. Ask,” she said in a soft, humble tone.

Gesturing to the tray of food she motioned for Twilight to select. It all looked quite delicious, so she started off with one of the small hoof sandwiches, that particular one alfalfa sprouts, with daisy blossom and young dandelion bud purée. Her eyes closed in dreamy bliss as she bit into it, the exquisite flavors sending a frisson rippling through her.

“How, and why?” Trixie asked, taking one of the scones and pulling it into two before adding a small spoonful of black raspberry jam atop each half, spreading it with a butter knife before topping that off with a dollop of clotted cream.

“I assume you mean 'How did I find out' and 'Why did I do what I did'?” When Trixie nodded Twilight nodded back before continuing . . . after first taking another bite of that divine sandwich.

“Well, as to how . . . remember back when you first moved here? That first week? When I dropped by with a book for you?” Based upon Trixie's sudden brilliant blush she certainly did remember!

Twilight struggled to keep from grinning as Trixie lifted both hooves up to her face, covering her eyes as she ducked her head. “Umm . . . I see you do remember.”

Trixie certainty did! She'd had a difficult time that morning, and had felt incredibly strained and miserable, and so had decided a little “stress relief” would go well for that afternoon. In fact, she'd been restrained virtually the exact same way as she had been several nights ago, and had just reached that dreamy, blissful “zone” when there had come a knock at her door and, much worse, the cheery upbeat voice of Twilight herself! She'd almost sprained herself getting everything off of her —setting a new speed record for doing so in the process— and had hastily jammed everything out of sight before answering the door.

“I'd first found The History of The Illusionati among some books donated to the new Castle Library,” she explained. “I'd thought it was just another fictional account, at least until I'd read the foreword,” she continued, taking another bite of her sandwich, polishing the tidbit off by popping it into her mouth before licking her lips. “That's when I realized it was a translation of a book that predated the Founding, back before the Three Tribes were united. I'd been wanting to give you that book as soon as I'd found it, but I didn't know where you were. Not, at least, until you returned to Ponyville.”

Trixie paused a moment before taking another bite of her scone. “You had started explaining about the book when you gave it to Trixie,” she said, peering up at Twilight through thick lashes. “But then you seemed to get, well, flustered.”

The watercress, timothy and pinenut sandwich hesitated in its path towards Twilight, who was currently looking rather sheepish. “Ah . . . well . . . yes,” she admitted. “I did get flustered. And distracted. You see,” she paused long enough to take a small bite of that one, and again couldn't keep from moaning in gastronomic delight. “I'd thought I saw something familiar, and it took me by so much surprise I lost my train of thought and just startled fumbling. Especially since I was trying not to stare and positively confirm what I'd thought I was seeing.”

“And that was?” Trixie asked, already having her suspicions.

“Ah,” she ahh-ed, then lopsidedly grinned. “Honestly? Your coat, especially around your muzzle and head, was, well, was matted in a way that I was sure I recognized. And you'd also seemed a little breathless and, erm . . . “distracted”.”

Trixie just covered her face with her hooves a second time, feeling her cheeks heat up again.

“Does it help any to know that I recognized that because I've seen the exact same thing when I look in a mirror after I'm done?”

Twilight's voice was soft; kind and understanding, with just the gentlest touch of commiserative teasing; enough so that Trixie surprisingly found herself softly giggling in response. Lowering her hooves she felt a grin on her face as she gazed across the table at her guest. Taking a sip of tea she was startled to hear herself say, “And if Trixie wished to see that for herself?”

Trixie felt herself freeze at that, shocked that she'd actually spoken that out loud; Twilight's reaction was similar, except she appeared to have locked eyes with a cockatrice. She was absolutely motionless, and Trixie wasn't sure she was even breathing. The only sign of life was the soft pink that dotted her cheeks, a coloration that, over the next few seconds, both deepened and spread.

Twilight was fervently grateful she hadn't been levitating that fragile teacup right at that moment, for she was positive her control would have faltered and wound up dropping it. Every muscle felt frozen in place . . . except for her heart, which was absolutely pounding like crazy. She doesn't mean it that way, a panicky voice was gibbering. She just meant that as equivalent retaliation; tit-for-tat; getting to do for herself what I've already done. Yeah. Yeah . . . that's it.

She felt stricken at that logical conclusion. It was understandable, but oh! how she wished it was for another reason!

“I wouldn't mind,” she finally whispered. “I wouldn't mind at all.”