“Dearest guests, I hear your request, and it is a simple one to honour. However, Trixie wonders whether your hearts and minds are fully prepared for what you are about to experience—for I can assure you this will be no ordinary tale.”

The ponies seated at the ornately decorated dining table looked quickly amongst themselves, before bobbing their heads in unison. Twilight idly gazed at them, noting how the poached zap apples with cinnamon custard glaze in front of each sat intact and largely forgotten. She reached for her wine glass with a sigh.

There was no doubt whatsoever in her mind that Trixie wasn’t going to relinquish their attention willingly, now that she held it in her hooves. Whatever words she would speak; whatever tales she would spin, would be remembered by those in the room for the rest of their lives. And beyond even that, knowing Twilight’s luck.

She craned her head to look out of one of the narrow windows lining the dining room. A perfect summer’s day was coming to an end—in more ways than one. As the sun dipped out of sight beyond the crystal window frame, Twilight felt a strange sense of envy overcome her.

And she had nopony to blame but herself.

It was carelessness—that’s what it was. Only a month ago she had shared those exact concerns with Rarity during a royal dress fitting—that since she had started dating Trixie she had become increasingly careless and sloppy. Take this evening for instance. There were at least three still-unread books on the subject in her library downstairs—four, if she counted the one Rainbow Dash and Applejack had given her as a joke. Why was her usually practical, sensible and logical brain failing her? Why had she gone into this less than one hundred percent prepared?

Twilight frowned, and felt a tremble pass through her folded wings. In fact, now that she thought about it, had not the three of them shared a laugh over the scarily specific title of one of the chapters?

Keeping your date quiet when they meet your parents for the first time.

“—but Trixie is getting ahead of herself. Why, she has yet to even mention the villainous shape-shifting Dragon Queen and her somewhat clichéd penchant for poisoned apples.”

“Poisoned apples?”

Twilight glanced up to see which of the group had sounded so intrigued and winced.

“Indeed! A most nefarious fruit if there ever was one—nefarious, and yet ever-present in the great and dramatic love stories,” Trixie replied, her voice rising to near etiquette-breaching levels as she casually tossed her long, cornflower mane. Twilight made a mental note to ensure her marefriend’s wine was watered down at future engagements.

Wait a minute. Future engagments?

The mere thought of Trixie pulling this kind of stunt in front of Celestia and Luna brought out a cold sweat across Twilight’s brow. She poked one of the apples in front of her with a thrice-polished silver spoon and tried to filter out her voice. That was when she saw the dimming sunlight flicker across a fine scratch running down the middle of the handle, and she suppressed a dismayed whicker. What on Equestria was she thinking? This cutlery set was no good at all—she would have to get a new set in before the dignitaries from Canterbury and Furmingham arrived next week. She glanced about, hoping that her family had not noticed the faux pas.

Sat beside her, on opposite sides of the table, her mother and father were wearing peculiar expressions that appeared to shift between joyful interest and sheer befuddlement as they listened to Trixie’s tale; beyond them Shining Armor and Cadance appeared to be sharing some kind of private joke.

She still had time. She could excuse herself; sneak into the library and dig out some advice from the books she had neglected. Twilight mentally ran through the plan a few times, testing the various strengths and weaknesses of it, before shaking her head at the conclusion reached.

No good. For a start, her absence from the room would provide Trixie with even more of a free reign, and she wasn’t sure she trusted her marefriend. Loved her, most definitely, but considered her safe enough to be left alone with her family? Oh Celestia, what to do, what to do…

She closed her eyes and exhaled, trying to get her nerves under control. Then she looked at Trixie sitting at the other end of the table. Glowing in the mid-flow of her tale, her marefriend looked beautiful even before the ruby-lined saddle and cloak she was wearing was factored into the equation. Her purple eyes flashed brilliantly as she spoke, and the smile on her azure face was broad, if a little heavy-looking.

Perhaps she could just try and get her attention somehow; signal her to tone it down. And if not, well, she always had Plan B.

As she started mental preparations for the feigning of food poisoning, Twilight conceded that perhaps she didn’t have the greatest confidence in Plan A.

“Trixie,” she mouthed, inclining her head slightly and widening her eyes to try and get her attention. For a moment she figured she had failed to do so, until she saw a hard smile twist the unicorn’s lips. As Trixie continued her tale, Twilight felt her blood boil.

“—it was then that Trixie, astute observer that she is, noticed that the nefarious Dragon Queen had attended the Ponyville Equinox Gala, but in disguise as a royal pony.”

Biting her lip so hard it hurt, Twilight attempted a subtle wave at her marefriend, but only succeeded in catching her mother’s attention.

“Are you all right dear?” Twilight Velvet asked her daughter, her eyes looking a little concerned.

Shining Armor looked over before laughing heartily into his tankard of cider. “Twily’s fine mom — I think she was just trying to add something to the story.”

Twilight felt a stinging heat rise to her cheeks, and shot her brother a glare. “Why, of course that’s what I was doing. I’m simply appalled that Trixie didn’t mention the part where I’m rescued from—” she thought for a moment “—a twenty foot ice cream monster and a phantom sea-bat!”

Silence fell across the table and everyone stared at her, unblinking. Not for the first time Twilight wished she had memorised that spell for opening deep holes in the ground.

Trixie studied her face for a moment, and a teasing smile broke across her lips. “Twilight, dear, patience. Trixie hasn’t even finished the tale of the Dragon Queen’s coup yet—there’ll be plenty of time to recount our adventures in Yakyakistan afterwards.”

Twilight felt her chest constrict horribly, and nervously plucked at her lilac dress. What on Equestria was she playing at? Trixie knew how important this evening was to her—she had already told her twice this week; once the week before, when they had had their saddles fitted at Rarity’s, oh and within the background dossier and agenda she had furnished the unicorn with last night. Why was she doing this?

She tried one final time to catch her attention, but the unicorn was now clearly avoiding her attempts.

So, using her magic, she hurled a poached apple under the table at her instead.

Trixie paused her tale briefly, and Twilight felt a disquieting lurch of satisfaction at the scowl that briefly darkened the unicorn’s face. She turned her gaze to Twilight, her expression unreadable, before continuing.

“As Trixie was saying, the Dragon Queen—magically disguised as a visiting dignitary—had managed to switch Twilight’s poached apple dessert with an identical dish—identical except for the poisoned cinnamon custard glaze decorating the fruit.”

She gestured down the length of the table and smiled. “Not the same recipe before you tonight, I assure you.”

The room broke out in hearty laughter, and Twilight snorted. How did that spell go again? Something ground something, open something something.

“—of course, Twilight was far too busy with the vicissitudes of courtly dining to notice the switch. And that, dear listeners, is where Trixie the humble stagepony enters this tale. An admirer of Twilight for many a year, she was delighted to have received an invitation to perform at the gala. And it was she who saw through the deception. Engineering a plan to pass by the royal table to offer her greetings, Trixie was able to make a switch of her own.”

“Ah! So you switched the Dragon Queen’s dessert back and poisoned her? Devious plan, that.”

Twilight groaned inwardly at the sound of her father’s voice. Why were they all so enthralled with this nonsense?

Trixie shook her head. “Nay, Master Light. Although Trixie is adept at the art of sleight of hand, dragons are notorious for being able to spot chicanery and subterfuge when directed against themselves. However, Trixie was able to magically switch the apples between her own dessert bowl and that of Twilight’s.”

It must have been that they hadn’t rehearsed enough, Twilight decided. The only other cause for the night going so horribly wrong was having Trixie present to begin with, but there was no real way around that one. Perhaps ten rehearsals had simply not been enough.

“So what happened then, dear?” her mother asked. Spike entered the room then to refresh the wine glasses and light the candles. He shot Twilight a look that moved quickly from alarm to sympathy.

Trixie waited for her glass to be topped up before taking a slow, deliberate sip. Twilight wanted to scream — Trixie was actually baiting her family, as though they were nothing more than the audience at one of her shows.

“Well,” the unicorn eventually announced with a flourish. “Through her singular act of selflessness Trixie had saved Twilight from losing her kingdom and her life to the Dragon Queen. But, to ensure the vile villainess did not notice the ruse, she was forced to consume the poisoned dessert.” She punctuated the act with forkfuls of her own poached apple. “Every. Last. Bite.”

Twilight’s family gasped in horror, and Trixie flashed a triumphant smile at the alicorn. “Naturally, Trixie fell into the deepest sleep, and was snatched away by the Dragon Queen — now transformed and seeking her revenge. Of course, the rest of this particular tale was not experience by Trixie first hand, and so you’ll have to forgive any lapses in quality from here on in.”

Twilight felt her wings twitch as she heard Cadance and Shining Armor fail to stifle their giggles.

“The Dragon Queen carried Trixie to the uppermost peak of the darkest mountain range in Equestria — a place where only thunderstorms dared to drift. As Princess Sparkle realised the deception, she was overcome by a sorrowful rage, and took to the skies in pursuit.”

“Okay! Okay!" a voice exploded desperately across the dining room. It was only when she noticed everypony looking at her that Twilight realised who it belonged to. She folded her wings again and fought to keep her voice steady. “I’m sure everypony here has been enthralled enough with the story of our exciting courtship—I know I can’t take any more drama. Mom, weren’t you going to show Trixie—”

Twilight Velvet’s eyes looked concerned again for a moment, before a small smile rose to her lips. “Oh Twilight,” she replied softly. “Don’t be silly—why, this tale is positively enchanting!”

“Not to mention romantic,” Cadance added with a sigh.

Twilight looked amongst the other ponies, feeling her breathing becoming harder to control. She turned desperately to Shining Armor—her dearest big brother. Surely he would be able to offer some avenue for her to escape down.

“Shining? Weren’t you—”

“Nope, Twily,” he interrupted with a grin. “I wasn’t.”

Trixie was looking at her expectantly. Twilight scowled, and folded her forelegs. “Oh please go ahead then,” she muttered bitterly. “You can see we’re all so desperate to hear the ending.”

“And what a denouement it was,” Trixie announced, flawlessly switching back to her tale. Her horn started to glow softly in the low light, and a shimmering red outline of a dragon materialised from the flames of one of the candles. Moments later a second outline—that of a purple alicorn—joined it, and both soared through the air. Reluctant as she was, Twilight couldn’t help but watch the display and admire how beautifully their forms glistened across the crystal of the room as they danced between diners and candlesticks, vases of flowers and wine glasses. Trixie continued her narration, her voice rising in both pitch and speed as she described the fierce battle from beginning to breathless conclusion. A thunderclap filled the room as the dragon exploded into translucent red petals, which faded out of existence as they drifted towards the ground.

As the gasps died down Twilight blinked and then frowned, furious at herself for being drawn in.

Cadance clapped her hooves together loudly. “And then?” she asked, her eyes glittering excitedly.

“Then?” Trixie repeated between breaths. “Then, sadness. Despair. After her hard-fought victory, Twilight attempted to wake the brave unicorn from her slumber, but alas! The poison could only be countered by one thing—and that thing was unknown to all but the now deceased Dragon Queen. Feeling hot tears run down her cheeks at the futility of her rescue attempt, the princess lay beside Trixie and drank deep the face that had saved her.”

Cadance squeaked and shook Shining Armor’s foreleg excitedly. “And then?”

Trixie appeared to pause once more for dramatic effect, her face a mask of sorrow. “Then, she leant forward and placed a delicate kiss on Trixie’s lips, and that act of true love removed the twisted poison of the Dragon Queen from her body. The rest, as they say, is history.”

Trixie swept a foreleg and lowered her head, a smile appearing on her face as the gathered ponies broke into applause.

“What a fantastic tale,” Night Light beamed, wiping an eye. “Truly delightful. Thank you for sharing it with us Trixie.”

The unicorn opened her mouth to reply, but Twilight beat her to it.

“Well, I can see we’ve all finished eating,” she laughed nervously. “And it’s already getting quite late, so who’s for coffee? Yes? Yes? Great! Spike! Please show everypony to the lounge while I make us some drinks.” She looked in her marefriend’s general direction. “Trixie, would you mind lending a hoof?”

She kept to the too-wide smile fixed on her face as Spike dutifully escorted her family downstairs, before turning a baleful glare upon the still-seated Trixie. Despite her fury she was mildly surprised when, after a casual toss of her cornflower mane, the unicorn returned it with equal force.

“Just what the buck was that all about?” she snapped, as soon as the door to the dining room clicked shut.

Trixie held a hoof against her chest and affected a look of mock-outrage. “What, the romantic tale of our courtship? Did you not like it?”

“No,” Twilight stomped loudly into the adjoining kitchen and took some mugs from one of the overheard cupboards. “I didn’t like it, not one bit. It was absurd and ridiculous and… and, pure hokum!"

She heard the sound of a chair scraping across the floor, and a moment later Trixie trotted into the kitchen. “Well your family seemed to like it,” she said primly as she started to clean out the coffee percolator. “I was under the impression that that was the whole point of the evening.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Twilight fought to keep her voice low and steady as she looked for the container of ground coffee beans. There was something strange in her marefriend’s tone that was making her stomach lurch uncomfortably.

Trixie stepped back to give Twilight room to fill the percolator. “I think you know what I mean.”

“Well I don’t,” Twilight snapped, spinning round to look at Trixie. This was all wrong and utterly infuriating. Trixie had spent the whole evening embarrassing her, and yet she still had the nerve to act as though she was the one who had been wronged. “They wanted to know how we met, and you made up some nonsensical story. Tonight was important to me—I thought you knew that!”

Twilight had known Trixie for years—far longer than they had been dating—and during that time the unicorn had never professed to have the slightest interest in the magic of weather manipulation. Nevertheless, under her gaze the temperature in the kitchen dropped so significantly that Twilight half-expected to see icicles start to form upon the crystal walls.

“Let me ask you a question, Sparkle,” she said coldly. “Do I embarrass you?”

“What?” Twilight blinked, taken aback somewhat by the question. Almost instantly that anger was replaced by a crippling nervous concern. “Of—of course you don’t. Why in Equestria would you ever think that?”

“Oh where should I even begin?” Trixie rubbed her muzzle with a hoof. “Should I start with the numerous dress rehearsals? No? What about the long lists of appropriate and inappropriate dinner conversation topics? Or maybe your insistence on me wearing this piece of horrendous attire? Perhaps I could even start with your introduction of me as a galloping list of qualifications and achievements that—”

“So I’m proud of you,” Twilight heard her voice rise uncontrollably. “Tartarus, is there anything wrong with that?”

“Oh you do make me laugh,” Trixie snapped, her eyes turning hard. “Don’t get me wrong, I like attention, but the way you were showing me off was just dreadful. I felt like one of your royal accessories, or a consort who—”

“Stop,” Twilight interrupted with a gasp. “Please, just stop.” She felt weak; the ache in her chest becoming a bubbling liquid that threatened to escape at any moment. When Trixie acquiesced with suddenly soft eyes it made her feel a little better, but not much.

“I… I just wanted tonight to be perfect,” she continued, painfully aware of how brittle her voice sounded. “I wanted the food to be perfect; I wanted the conversation to be perfect; I wanted them to like and adore you—like I do.”

Trixie studied her face for a moment, before turning back to the percolator and switching it on.

“And you thought the best way to achieve that was to present me as something I’m not?”

Twilight instinctively opened her mouth in retort, but the unshaped sounds died in her throat. A shuddering chill passed through her body and nestled in her stomach. At the end of the day she was right, wasn’t she? Her objectives for the evening had been well-intentioned, but it was a devastating feeling to know that she was presenting her marefriend falsely to achieve them.

She felt tears start to dampen her eyes, and furiously blinked them away.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I screwed up.”

“I know.” Trixie looked around at her then. The smile on her lips was sad and it stamped on Twilight’s heart harder than any hoof ever could. But it also rekindled her earlier anger. After all, if she had made mistakes tonight—and she had made some—then she wasn’t the only one.

“So what then, that story was punishment?”

The smile vanished instantly from Trixie’s face, and she laughed harshly. “I won’t deny I enjoyed the performance, but you honestly think me that low?”

“What? No!” Twilight swallowed quickly. Oh, why couldn’t she just think before opening her stupid mouth? When had she become so quick to try and score points in an argument? “No I don’t… I just — I don’t know! You upset me so much in there, and I’m sorry I screwed up, but… but you did too, and now the day’s been ruined and we’re—”

One moment Trixie was watching her curiously and the next she—and the room—had dissolved into a blurry mirage of shapes and colours and intangible sensations. Twilight scrunched her eyes shut against the tears, and was desperately trying to mould her thoughts into words when a pair of soft lips pressed insistently against her own. She froze at the sudden contact, her brain desperately trying to formulate just what had happened, and felt Trixie’s forelegs loop languidly around her neck. Only then did her senses return, and she desperately swept the unicorn into her own tight embrace, unfolding her wings and wrapping them around her. She loved how particular Trixie’s form felt against her feathers, and her heart soared as she heard a contented sigh fall from her marefriend’s lips.

Eventually, reluctantly, she pulled herself from the embrace and opened her eyes. Trixie had a strange smile on her face, her purple eyes glistening beautifully in the low light.

“I’m going to say something now, and I don’t want you to freak out,” she said softly.

Twilight simply nodded.

Trixie studied her for a moment. “I want you to remember that you’re a pony first, and a princess second,” she said.

Twilight blinked. “But—”

Trixie held up a hoof and continued. “Twilight Sparkle, this is your family we’re talking about. They aren’t some visiting dignitaries to be amazed by the calibre of your associates or the grandeur of your hospitality. Of all the ponies in Equestria, it shouldn’t be me having to tell you that!”

“I wasn’t trying to impress them,” Twilight retorted, feeling a scowl twist her features.

Trixie folded her forelegs and frowned. “That’s exactly what you were doing; don’t try and lie to me, Sparkle! Did you not see your parent’s faces when you introduced me and—I can’t believe I’m complaining about this—my ridiculously long list of achievements? They didn’t look impressed, Twilight, they looked worried!”

It was hard to stand still and listen to this. She had to do something. Moving to the work-surface Twilight started to slowly pour coffee into the mugs as Trixie continued.

“In their eyes I no doubt sounded like some Canterlot courtier who had somehow managed to woo you, or somepony you had started dating as part of some aristocratic political game of chess. Did you not see the relief and joy on their faces when my true character emerged during the performance?”

Twilight said nothing as she continued to fill the mugs. This wasn’t the issue at all. This was clearly just Trixie over-exaggerating what she had observed at the start of the evening, when her father expressed his surprise over the formality of the dinner party. Or maybe she had just misunderstood her mother’s wistful regret that they were having poached apples with cinnamon custard glaze, and not home-baked apple crumble like they used to, or Shining Armor’s complaint about having to dress up just to have dinner with his sister and—

Oh dear.

A crushing wave of sadness and worry washed over her, and a dismayed whicker escaped her lips.

“I… I think you might be right,” she replied. “Oh Celestia, what have I done?”

Trixie nestled up beside her then, and took over the filling of the mugs. “Oh, nothing that can’t be undone, now you know what’s wrong.”

“But it’s so hard,” Twilight rested her head against Trixie’s momentarily, finding strength and warmth in the contact. “I mean, my family is from Canterlot, but we were never high aristocratic stock, you know? Sure, Mom and Dad had their contacts, but—like Shining—I’ve had to earn my place in royalty. I wasn’t born into it.”

Trixie smiled warmly as she filled the last mug. “Which is more noble if you ask me. But something you are still having trouble adjusting to.”

“Exactly,” Twilight laughed nervously. “You have any idea how many non-fiction books have been written about adjusting to your new life in royalty?”

Trixie grinned at her. “I suspect none.”

Twilight nodded, and switched off the percolator. “I mean, without a reference guide or three all I’ve had to refer to is what I’ve seen and heard in the court. I guess I haven’t acclimatised very well.”

“You haven’t been acclimatising at all, in my opinion. You’ve been compromising. You’ve been trying so hard to make yourself worthy of this whole princess thing that you’ve lost a little bit of yourself in the process.”

“But you don’t understand.” Twilight sighed, and met her marefriend’s gaze. “I don’t have much choice in the matter. I wasn’t born in line to be a princess, but it’s the role I’ve been given. I have to be worthy of it.”

Trixie was silent for a moment, before trotting over to the cold-pantry. “Let me ask you a question then. Did you fall in love with Trixie because of her most wondrous magical ability, her captivating stage presence, her love of the road and her boundless humility?”

Twilight laughed at the unicorn’s switch back to her stage persona. “Well, I guess a little bit of each of those certainly helped,” she conceded. “Plus, you know, your other talents.”

She was pleased to see a slight blush adorn Trixie’s cheeks as she returned with a bottle of milk encased in a raspberry glow. “Don’t distract me from making my point,” she commanded. “So if those things mean so much to you, how would you feel if I stopped doing them?”

“I—” Twilight stopped, and reflected on her marefriend’s words for a moment. The idea of Trixie giving up all she loved and shackling herself down someplace left a sour taste in her mouth.

“Exactly,” Trixie placed the milk down on the work-surface. “Twilight, you’ve been awarded your place among the royal elite because of who you are and what that has achieved so far. I don’t think it was given to you on the proviso that you change your act. Nopony who knows you wants you to become some stuffy old monarch-in-waiting who only cares about formality and class.”

Twilight enveloped the milk in her magic and started to pour. Then she blinked, and looked back at Trixie.

“You think I’m stuffy and boring?”

Trixie studied her face for a moment, before grinning and placing a kiss on her cheek. “Maybe a little,” she replied. “But then why else would you keep me around?”

Sharing the cups between them, the pair trotted slowly downstairs. As she entered the lounge, Twilight saw for the briefest moment how the faces of her family were darkened by pensive expressions, before being replaced with smiles of joy on seeing her head resting against Trixie’s. As she looked at them each in turn, Twilight couldn’t help but grin herself.

“Good to see you’re both still alive,” Shining Armor said lightly. He winced as Cadance hoofed him gently in the ribs.

Twilight began to distribute her half of the mugs. “I’m sorry for being such a silly filly everypony.” She felt the rest could remain unsaid, and was pleased that her family seemed to agree. “But the night is still young — who’s up for a board game or two?”

She caught Trixie smiling broadly as she passed mugs over to Shining Armor and Cadance, and felt her heart soar once again. She was a very lucky pony indeed having a family and marefriend who cared and worried so much about her, and who tolerated her mistakes. And, now that the most embarrassing part of the evening was over with, she was going to relax and enjoy their company the way she was supposed to.

“Oh absolutely, but perhaps a little bit later dear,” her mother replied with a smile. “I’ve brought all your fillyhood photo albums to show Trixie first.”

Author's Notes:

Glossary

Canterbury: Not so much a play on words — more a use of an actual place in Kent with a suitably relevant name.

Furmingham: A play on Birmingham, a city in the West Midlands, and the second city of the United Kingdom

---

Ugh. Restricting my British sensibilities and writing Armor instead of Armour was hard work. Still, a name's a name.

Thanks for reading. The last few stories I've worked on have been concept-pieces that were a little heavy on the research/themes, so it was quite nice to write something more unassuming and simple. My main focus in this story was to work on natural dialogue and the integration of thought processes, so hopefully this reads as an improvement in that area compared to my previous tales. Personally, I feel I could have developed some aspects of the story more, but after Punch Drunk! I was conscious of it demanding to be turned into something larger. I've got enough of those ideas being developed as it is!

Keep Striding!