A Day in Canterlot
by RainbowDoubleDash
First published
Fizzlepop Berrytwist has to spend a day baby-sitting Luna's apprentice, Trixie
Fizzlepop Berrytwist suffered a terrible tragedy as a foal and nearly lost her way until a chance meeting with Shining Armor showed her another path in life - as a member of the Night Guard of Luna. However, in her efforts to prove herself as being up to the task of being a Night Guard, she has pushed herself practically to the breaking point. As her commanding officers try and sort out her unique situation and if the Guard really is the place for her, she is given a simple assignment: keep an eye on Trixie Lulamoon, Princess Luna's new apprentice, as she spends a day in Canterlot.
This won't end well...
A Lunaverse story, and a prequel to the main series. However this is being written in such a way that new readers should have no trouble diving in.
1. Annual Review
Author's Notes:
A note about ages
The Lunaverse is about 4 years behind the main universe (assuming about 1 year passes every 2 seasons, there's some math to back this up that a friend of mine did), and this story takes place about 7 years before the first episode of the Lunaverse, Longest Night, Longest Day. As a result, keep in mind that Tempest Shadow in this is something to the tune of 11 years younger here than she was in the My Little Pony movie.
Every muscle and fiber of Fizzlepop Berrytwist ached as she stood beneath the hot water pouring down from the overhead shower. She leaned into the flow, letting the water run down her suffering body and the heat soothe her stretched sinews. The hot-and-cold mixer taps that had been added to Canterlot Castle's Night Guard barracks only a few weeks before she had joined hadn't been the best part about transferring from the Army, but they certainly ranked highly. She did not miss the cold water showers of the Army, not after a workout like she'd just put herself through.
Her breathing was still coming out heavily, and she closed her eyes and tried to get that under control even as she also fought to stop the trembling through legs that didn't want to keep standing. After several minutes, Fizzlepop had just about succeeded when she felt another pony’s flank bump her own. The touch was gentle, a playful attempt at grabbing her attention, but it was sudden and unexpected, and when she tried to re-balance her hooves one came down on a bar of soap and went flying.
“Whoa!” a voice from beside her called. Fizzlepop felt hooves on her back to steady her, and wingbeats from the hooves’ owner to steady herself as she got her legs back under her where they belonged. Glancing, Fizzlepop found herself looking at Nocturne, one of her fellow squad mates, a pegasus with a deep blue coat and feathers and bright purplish-pink mane.
“Easy, rookie,” Nocturne said. “Didn’t mean to almost trip you.”
Fizzlepop took in a long breath. “How much longer until I stop being called ‘rookie’?” She asked. “I’ve been in the squad for two years now.”
Nocturne shrugged as she turned on her own showerhead, prompting Fizzlepop to step away and back against the far wall until the water heated up, though it didn't bother the pegasus. “When you’re not the newest member anymore.” The older mare answered, and smiled over at Fizzlepop. “And when you stop acting like it.”
Fizzlepop couldn’t stop herself from grinning as she got back under her own shower. Thoroughly soaked now, she turned her attention to actually washing herself, grabbing soap and a brush in her hooves. “I trotted fifteen miles in an hour today. Personal record. None of the other unicorns made that…left some pegasi behind, too.”
The other mare started to put a hoof to her eyes, but stopped herself when she remembered the soap that she also held. “Rookie, it’s real hard to not ever bring up your horn when you make everything about your horn.”
Fizzlepop couldn’t stop herself from flinching at Nocturne’s words. She turned to glare at the pegasus as a tiny, familiar sting traveled up the length of her horn – or what should have been the length of her horn. Phantom pain caused by anger compelling her to instinctively light up a horn that wasn’t there save for a broken stump. Instead of a glow, small sparks shot from her, latching onto and dancing up the length of the water that cascaded down overhead.
Nocturne regarded Fizzlepop with half-lidded eyes. “You gonna blast me?”
“I’m thinking about it,” Fizzlepop answered. After a moment, though, she closed her eyes and turned away, quelling her broken horn and getting back to washing herself. She couldn’t even focus for a second before turning back to Nocturne, jabbing a hoof at her. “I just have one rule, Nocturne. Don’t bring up the horn. It’s not asking much, is it?”
Nocturne leaned one front hoof on the shower wall and gestured with the other. “Rookie…Fizzlepop…look, this is gonna sound awful, but the three tribes aren’t all equal in every way. I can stand on clouds, you can’t. You can shoot lightning out of your forehead, I can’t. And neither of us is ever going to be able to keep up with an earth pony in the Guard. There’s a reason why there’s different fitness standards for the three tribes, and the earth pony standards would break most pegasi and ninety-nine percent of unicorns in half.”
Fizzlepop rolled her eyes. “I think you just made an argument for a ‘separate but equal’ society. Planning on moving to Zaldia?”
“You’ve met my husband, did you see wings or a horn on him?” Nocturne asked. “You know how they treat earth ponies in Zaldia. I wouldn’t wish that place on anypony.” She shook her head again. “I’m not saying that anypony is better or worse as a pony. All I’m saying is that it’s a statistical fact that if you put an average earth pony into a ring or onto a track with an average pegasus or unicorn, and switch off the magic or bind the wings, the smart money’s on the earth pony every time.”
Fizzlepop couldn’t stop herself from stomping a hoof against the shower wall. It was with enough force that a tiny crack appeared in the tile, though it sent a jolt of pain up her already aching foreleg. “I’m not an average unicorn.”
“No,” Nocturne said, hooves in her mane as she washed it. “But you think that the earth ponies in the Night Guard are average earth ponies?” She closed her eyes as she dunked her head under the water, rinsing herself, then turned her attention to her tail. “Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t push yourself, find your limits, try to get past them, build yourself up as a pony. That’s what life is all about. And hey, if in the process of doing that it turns out you’re one in a million and you can run an earth pony into the ground? Great.” She looked pointedly at Fizzlepop. “But this isn’t about self-improvement, not really. You and I both know it isn’t.”
Fizzlepop opened her mouth, but then the shower’s door opened again and a white unicorn stuck his head in. “Hey – ”
“Gah!” Nocturne called out, making a show of covering herself with her hooves. “Commander, we’re not decent!”
Commander Shining Armor fixed Nocturne with a bemused smile – the distraction provided by Nocturne giving Fizzlepop a chance to close her eyes and try and wipe the anger from her face. “You’re never decent, Nocturne.”
Nocturne stuck her tongue out at that, getting back to washing her tail. “Why is it that you’re supposed to make a thing out of it when you’re in the bath or shower and somepony else sees, anyway?” She wondered, keeping the focus on her since Fizzlepop still needed a few more seconds to calm down. “Like, where did that joke start?”
Shining only shrugged. His own coat glistened from having been freshly cleaned itself after the afternoon exercise routine the squad had gone through. “I’m sure that the answer to that is kept somewhere next to why the sky is blue.” He turned to look at Fizzlepop. “Hurry up in here, rookie. Your review is complete, so you’ll be joining me with meeting the Captain in twenty minutes.”
“Sir,” Fizzlepop confirmed with a nod, though she couldn’t keep her voice from cracking a little as she did at the mention of the review. If Shining noticed, he didn’t say anything, instead only returning the nod and then ducking out of the shower stall. Fizzlepop immediately returned to cleaning herself in earnest this time, hesitating slightly when she had to wash her forehead – and her horn. Or what was left of it.
Nocturne noticed, and her wings sagged and ears drooped. “Fizzy,” she said softly, “in seriousness…I don’t think you’ve been doing yourself any favors recently, but I can’t think of a pony I’d rather have in the Guard. So good luck.”
Fizzlepop took in a deep breath and held it for a solid twenty seconds before letting it out, trying to exhale all her concern with it. It didn’t work in the slightest, but she smiled for Nocturne’s benefit. “Thanks,” she said, and couldn’t help mentally adding, I think I need it.
The Night Guard of Luna wore silver-blue armor that featured a spine stylized to look like a draconic fin. Each of the suits of armor were also enchanted so that the pony wearing it would appear to have a gray coat, yellow eyes slit like a dragon’s, and a mouth full of fangs. The wings of pegasi were additionally made to look like those of a dragon or bat, while for unicorns, the illusion caused their horns to look slightly curved and sharp. The intent behind the armor was to be terrifying – the slit eyes and fangs in particular intended to provoke the flight side of fight-or-flight responses on whoever was on the receiving end of them.
It worked more often than not, something Fizzlepop knew from personal experience when she had needed to interpose herself between the odd too-eager reporter or ornery taxpayer who hadn’t learned that Princesses were for looking, not touching. That being said, however, it also always left Fizzlepop feeling like a foal dressed up for Nightmare Night. She’d heard that Luna had personally designed the armor and its glamor herself, and could only assume that the Princess had been going through a phase at the time.
It also didn’t help that, since the point was uniformity of appearance, the glamor made her appear to still have an intact horn. When she’d first seen that in a mirror, she’d had a moment of happiness – but only a moment before reality came back and reminded her that it was only an illusion.
Still, it was the armor both she and Commander Shining Armor wore as they made their way from the barracks of Canterlot Castle over to the offices of the Captain of the Royal Guard, the commander of both the Night Guard and the Canterlot Castle Guard. As they trotted, Fizzlepop couldn’t keep her head held as high as was entirely proper while in uniform, nor lift her legs as high.
Shining Armor noticed, of course. “Fifteen miles in an hour,” he commented nonchalantly as they entered the castle proper. One of the other reasons Fizzlepop had never been a big fan of the glamor laid over the Night Guard armor was because of the incongruity between the fearsome appearance it bestowed and the casual conversations that could happen while in uniform. “I’ve never trotted that fast for that long.”
“No, sir,” Fizzlepop acknowledged, holding her head a little higher and hoping that the conversation wouldn’t go the way she knew it was going to.
“Of course, I’ve never tried,” Shining continued, dashing her hopes. He looked her over. “I might, the next time I’ve got a good stretch of being off-duty to recover afterwards. As it stands…say a dragon showed up in Canterlot, doesn’t matter how.” He lifted a hoof and pushed against Fizzlepop’s shoulder slightly as they trotted. She braced herself and stopped herself from stumbling, but she knew the point he was trying to make. “You up to doing your duty today, rookie?”
Fizzlepop’s first instinct was to lie, but she wouldn’t – not to Shining Armor, even leaving aside that he’d see through it instantly. “I don’t think so, sir,” she was forced to admit, still aware of a dull ache through her body, and a primal part of her hindbrain telling her to crawl back to her bunk and go to sleep.
“And this isn’t the first time you’ve done this,” Shining Armor noted. “Not by a long shot.”
“No, sir.”
Shining sighed, looking away. The helmet of the Night Guard made room for ears, and Shining’s were drooped down. “The Captain is going to bring that up, Fizzy. Just keep that in mind.”
“I will, sir.”
The two proceeded in silence for the rest of the trip, passing through halls of Canterlot Castle bustling with pages, Castle Guard, nobles, two ambassadors, and even a tour group. At length, they reached the doors of the Captain’s office, or rather offices, as proceeding through the door brought the two before a secretary rather than the Captain herself. It was only a moment after that before the two were brought in to the office.
Commanding officers weren’t supposed to necessarily be liked by their subordinates, just obeyed. Nevertheless, Fizzlepop had never much cared for Captain Opal Armet. An earth pony with a silvery coat and black mane, she was getting on in years, but was still fit, and her Captain’s uniform – a blue jacket with a silver sash, this one not projecting any kind of glamor over the pony who wore it – was always neat and pressed, its lines sharp enough to cut.
“Commander Shining Armor and Officer Fizzlepop Berrytwist, reporting as ordered, ma’am,” Shining Armor announced as he and Fizzlepop entered the office, both standing tall and saluting as they did.
Armet didn’t rise from the desk she sat behind, though she did look up from the paperwork that was in front of her, setting down the pen she’d held in her mouth. “At ease,” she said, “helms off, let’s do this face-to-face.”
Fizzlepop started to use her hooves to obey the order, but noticed Shining Armor’s horn lighting up and sliding his own helmet off. He hadn’t meant anything by it – it was a literally thoughtless gesture. Most unicorns just stopped using their hooves for anything but walking as their magic developed…a luxury that hadn’t been afforded Fizzlepop.
Which was part of why she was here – or rather, why she felt so much dread being here at her annual review. Holding back a grimace, she lit up what was left of her horn, ignoring the sting with practiced ease as she wrapped magic around her helmet and pulled it off. She acted quickly enough, and the task was simple enough, that she was able to do so with only a few stray, harmless sparks flying from her horn as she took her helmet into her hooves, even as her body took on its normal coloration and appearance once more.
Nothing had gone wrong, the helm came off just fine…and yet out of the corner of her eye, she saw Shining Armor, similarly free of glamor, glancing at her with a look of mild disappointment. Opal Armet’s own eyes, meanwhile, had immediately gone to the broken stump on Fizzlepop’s head. They always did. It was another reason Fizzlepop didn’t care much for the captain.
The moment didn’t last, at least, as Armet gestured to in front of her desk. “Take a seat, officer,” she instructed. Fizzlepop came forward and did so, while Shining remained at the door. By the time she was seated, Armet had her hooves pressed together before her as she regarded Fizzlepop over them. “Officer Berrytwist, you are here to hear the results of your annual review concerning your physical, mental, and emotional ability to continue serving in the Night Guard of Princess Luna.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Fizzlepop replied when Armet was silent just long enough.
Armet closed over the folder she’d had on her desk. It had Fizzlepop’s name and cutie mark – a mug overflowing with fizzy foam and berries, earned during a very different part of Fizzlepop’s life. Armet placed both her hooves on the folder as she regarded Fizzlepop. “We all know why we’re here and what this review is going to center on. So first, let’s cover the good. You continue to score well on mental aptitude tests. Your commanding officer reports no disciplinary action has been necessary for you. You have been observed to be friendly with your squad mates while respecting seniority and the chain of command. While on-duty you have served well and kept the Princess from harm.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Which brings us to the negative,” Armet said, and her eyes couldn’t help but dart to Fizzlepop’s horn. The unicorn managed to keep a glare from her eyes. “Your injury.”
Fizzlepop kept her mouth tightly shut as Armet opened the folder before her, looking down to it. “A unicorn in the Guard is required to be able to lift three hundred pounds with his or her telekinesis and sustain that lift for ten seconds. He or she is required to be able to perform five repetitions of this per minute, for five minutes.” Armet looked back to Fizzlepop. “But to be blunt, you are not capable of reliably holding even your helmet aloft for ten seconds. The power is there but not the control, your magic will simply give out at random intervals. Correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Fizzlepop was forced to admit.
“An exception was made,” Armet continued, “when you joined the Royal Army due to the power of the one spell you are capable of casting. A fireworks spell, I believe. Explosive, with a side of electrical discharge, or the magical equivalent thereof.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“By unicorn standards your physical abilities are not in question. An argument was made based on your desire to serve, mental aptitude, and the obvious military use of your fireworks that despite not meeting the Royal Army’s magical standards – which are lower than the Guard’s – you should still be allowed to join and serve your country and your Princess provided you could consistently meet the basic physical standards required of the pegasus tribe, aside from flight speed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Two years ago, after reaching the officer rank of first lieutenant in the Royal Army, you applied to and transferred to the Night Guard. My predecessor allowed the transfer based on a character reference from then-Officer Shining Armor.” Armet looked over to the commander, still standing at attention by the door. “Who I believe also paid for your commission as an officer in the Royal Army in the first place.”
Shining Armor stood a little straighter at being mentioned. “I had met Fizzlepop Berrytwist not long after joining the Guard myself, ma’am,” he said. “I believed she had talent, but she was not financially able to pay for officer training. I offered to help.”
Armet nodded, once again pressing her hooves together before her face as she looked between the two other ponies in the room. “Looking at this situation from the outside without full context, you understand the optics of the situation, Commander Armor, do you not?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Fizzlepop was struggling to keep her horn from lighting up and sparking at the implication that she was only here because of Shining Armor. He didn’t deserve that, and certainly not in a review about her. She tried to ignore the small voice in her mind that wondered, though, if Armet had a point.
“Very good.” Armet turned her attention back to Fizzlepop. “Officer Berrytwist, your commission in the Army was dependent on your ability to keep to the standards of the pegasus tribe, and a similar requirement was placed on you when you joined the Night Guard.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Fizzlepop said. “I exceed the standards, ma’am.”
“Do you?” Armet wondered. “Let’s look at running and endurance. A pegasus in the Guard is required to be able to trot twelve miles in one hour. It is understood, Berrytwist, that this does not mean trot twelve miles and then collapse from exhaustion, but rather still be able to perform his or her duties at the end of it.” She waved a hoof at a window into the office. “If I picked a random pegasus civilian off the streets of Canterlot and ran behind them with a whip, I could get them to trot that. And then they’d collapse from the next stiff breeze.”
Fizzlepop grit her teeth. She exhaled slowly through her nostrils. “Yes, ma’am.”
Armet gestured with one hoof even as she once more looked at Fizzlepop’s folder. “At present, Berrytwist, you exceed every physical standard for the pegasus tribe. But at the same time, I have noticed a slight tremor in your body since you entered the room. According to the doctors, your heart rate is also higher than is entirely healthy for a unicorn – even one with as impressive a physical build as yours.” Her eyes once again looked to Fizzlepop’s broken horn. “And while your fireworks spell has obvious military uses, I have to admit that I am somewhat less able to imagine circumstances where it will be useful as a bodyguard for Her Majesty the Princess. Niche opportunities to use it, yes…but they are just that: niche.”
Armet closed the folder over. “So. From the outside, you look like a political appointee who had a wealthy patron buy her way into first the Army, then the Guard – and I am not saying that is what happened, but it’s how it looks. You fail to meet the basic magical requirements of the unicorn tribe. The one spell you can cast is not useful to the Night Guard. And you appear to be damaging yourself attempting to make up for your shortcomings.”
“Permission to speak, ma’am?” Fizzlepop asked. She kept the crack from her voice.
Armet considered a moment before nodding. “Granted, officer.”
Fizzlepop took a moment to compose herself, glancing down at her helmet as she did. In its reflection, she could see Shining Armor. “Ma’am, nopony is more aware of…the limitations imposed on me by my horn than I am. And it is true that I owe a lot to Commander Armor. Over the past two years, since joining the Guard, I have been pushing myself to be worthy of the chance that he gave me.” She looked to Armet, trying to remember what Nocturne had been trying to tell her about setting goals and reaching them. “My goal has been to reach the physical standards of the earth pony tribe. If you’ll only give me a chance…”
Fizzlepop heard a pointed, annoyed exhale from behind her. Captain Armet didn’t look any happier than Shining Armor sounded. “To do that,” Armet said, “You’d have to more than double your current physical lifting capacity. And you’d have to be able to trot sixteen miles in an hour. Officer, considering the state you’re in just trying to meet pegasus standards – ”
“No, I – ” Fizzlepop interrupted before she could stop herself. She bit her lip. “I apologize, ma’am.”
Armet at least didn’t let the silence linger. “Accepted. Continue, officer.”
Fizzlepop glanced at Shining’s reflecting in her helmet once more, and saw he was, almost imperceptibly, shaking his head. She was going about this the wrong way, phrasing things wrong. But how was she supposed to do it? She could meet the pegasus standards with only a little more effort than an actual pegasus. But Armet was right, she did utterly fail the magical standards of the unicorn tribe, and the one major asset that had allowed her to join the Army, the fireworks spell she could cast, really was less than useful as a bodyguard. Maybe if she could control it better…but she couldn’t. It was an explosion or nothing at all. But without the fireworks – without unicorn magic that was worth anything – and without wings – then she had to make the earth pony standards, didn’t she?
Fizzlepop opened her mouth to begin to speak, but there was a sound, a surprised yelp, from outside the office door, then a few muffled voices. Shining Armor, closest to the door and able to hear more clearly what was on the other side of it, had his eyes widen as he stepped away from it and opened the door, then sank to one knee.
Which could only mean one thing, really. Fizzlepop copied the motion, as did Captain Armet as soon as she came out from behind her desk. A moment later, Princess Luna Equestris strode into the office. Even with two years of becoming more accustomed to the presence of the Princess, she still cut an imposing figure to Fizzlepop. She was taller than most stallions, even Shining Armor, with a long horn, powerful wings, and fur that barely hid the taut, strong muscles that could bend iron bars on a whim.
“Your majesty,” Opal Armet said from where she knelt. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Luna regarded the three ponies with an arch look before she gestured with her wings, giving them leave to stand. They did so. “I am sending my apprentice Trixie into Canterlot,” she said, “and thought it only polite to notify my Captain of the Guard so that an escort could be arranged. I understand that this is extremely last-minute…”
Fizzlepop’s ears twitched at the pronunciation of that last word. She glanced to Shining, who nodded slightly – he’d heard it too.
“We live to serve, your majesty,” Armet said, though she frowned at the mention of Trixie, a young unicorn Luna had taken on as an apprentice several years ago who was rapidly developing a…reputation…around the Castle. Her frown deepened further after a moment. “If I may ask, your Majesty, where are officers Smiles and Meadowlark? I believe they were supposed to guard your person this shift.” She came up alongside Fizzlepop and glanced at her, and the unicorn nodded.
Luna looked surprised for a moment, glancing to either side of her and then out into the hall. “Hmm, I seem to have lost them…how irksome. In any event, I must be going now. Have an officer meet Trixie at the castle gates in half an hour sharp. Oh, and do see to it that Smiles and Meadowlark are suitably disciplined.”
Shining, Fizzlepop, and Captain Armet looked between each other, then back to the “alicorn”. “Commander Armor, you’re closest.”
The tone of voice caused “Luna’s” eyes to widen in shock, moreso when Shining reached out to her with one hoof. “Un moment! It’s treason to strike the Princess!” She tried to backpedal, but was caught too much by surprise as Shining’s hoof reached to her, through her like she wasn’t even there, and grabbed something within the “alicorn” and pulled.
He produced a blue unicorn who came up to his withers, not quite a filly but not really a mare yet either, horn glowing pinkish-blue. She tried to scamper away, and the illusion of Luna started swatting at Shining with its hooves – harmlessly due to only being a trick of light – but Shining held on tight as his other hoof lightly flicked her horn. Instantly, the illusion of Luna burst apart into pinkish-blue smoke, and a moment later even that was gone.
“Pas juste…” Trixie Lulamoon groused in Prench. She looked up at Shining, and grinned widely. “What gave me away?” Her Equestrian still carried a fair bit of an accent in it, reflecting the city of Neigh Orleans where she had grown up, though it wasn’t nearly as thick as it had once been, where her broken pidgin had been barely intelligible to much of the castle staff.
“You pronounced minute like in Prench,” Armet said. “The voice was generally off as well.”
“Princess Luna would never consider losing track of two members of the Night Guard merely ‘irksome’,” Fizzlepop Berrytwist added.
“Also the illusion was too tall, the wings were too long, it didn’t really move right, and the hooves didn’t make any sound when walking,” Shining finished.
Trixie huffed. “Mais, Ah’m still working on castin’ glamors an’ ghost sounds at the same time. Guess mah Luna still looks like what Ah imagine her like instead a’ what she is like. Fooled ya for un moment, though.”
“Trixie, what are you doing here?” Shining Armor demanded, releasing the young unicorn. “You’re interrupting something very important.”
Trixie waved a hoof nonchalantly. “Oui, sure, very important. Mais, Ah really am here for a guard so Ah can go into Canterlot, Ah just didn’t want to wait.” She frowned. “Ah think Ah should be able to go into Canterlot by mahself, Ah’m old enough, but Luna don’t want me by mahself after what happened in the Elkheim Embassy.”
“The embassy you burned down?”
Trixie glared at Shining. “Choooh! Ah didn’t burn down nothin’! The fire was put out ‘fore too long, an’ it wasn’t just me, there was this deer too, an’ we was playin’ and there were ice worms…okay, there weren’t real ice worms…” She crossed her hooves. “Look, Ah’m on a schedule. Last showin’ a’ Don Rocinante is tonight an’ Ah need a guard now so’s Ah don’t miss it. Ah got permission from Luna, y’all can check.” She looked at Shining Armor, then Armet, then Fizzlepop, and smiled as she pointed at her. “She’ll do. She looks tough.”
Fizzlepop and Armet both rolled their eyes. “Officer Fizzlepop Berrytwist – ”
“Quoi?” Trixie interrupted at the name. “Mais, does Luna pick y’all based on how weird your name sound considerin’ your jobs? That’s like a cake store owner bein’ named Bloody Harvest or – ”
“Trixie!” Armet interrupted, shouting. Trixie let out yelp of fright, stumbling backwards – and behind Shining Armor, who couldn’t stop himself from reflexively stepping to shield the frightened filly more. “I don’t. Have time. For your games. And after what you just pulled I’m absolutely certain that Luna will see fit to cancel your little trip into Canterlot.”
Trixie’s eyes widened as she came out from behind Shining. “Non…” she intoned. “But…it was only a joke! Ah didn’ mean nothin’ by it! An’ this is the last showin’ an’ Ah ain’t managed to get t’ any of the others an’ it won’t be comin’ back for years an’ years – ”
Armet, if anything, looked even more furious. Shining stood up a little straighter. “Captain, if I may…I believe the point that Officer Berrytwist was trying to make before we were interrupted,” he flicked at one of Trixie’s ears with a hoof, “merits some consideration. You said yourself that she is exceeding most unicorn and even pegasus standards and has been a model officer in the Guard.” He looked down to Trixie. “Also after this interruption I think all of our trains of thought are shot. We should probably pick up where we left off tomorrow, ma’am.”
Trixie opened her mouth to add her opinion, but Shining’s horn glowed pink and encased her in a shield bubble, cancelling the sound. The young unicorn glared at Shining, her eyes actually taking on a pinkish-blue glow as she did so.
Armet, meanwhile, looked to Shining. “You sticking your neck out for her doesn’t help with the perception of her being an appointee of yours,” she noted.
“I’d do the same for any of the officers under my command, ma’am,” Shining said. “When I first met Officer Berrytwist, she was in a bad place. Her time in the Army and the Night Guard has improved her as a pony considerably. I think she could go much further if given the chance. That is ultimately up to you, ma’am, but that’s my opinion.”
Armet looked at Shining Armor, then Fizzlepop. She let out a long sigh, putting a hoof to her eyes. “Well, if nothing else, commander, you’re right about our trains of thought being thoroughly derailed. Officer Berrytwist, escort Trixie…wherever it is she was going, after double-checking that Luna really is letting the little reprobate out of the castle. We’ll continue this tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Fizzlepop looked down at Trixie, not sure if she should be grateful for the reprieve or annoyed at having to play baby-sitter. Trixie, for her part, just smiled brightly back.
2. Into the City
“What did she do?” Princess Luna asked the moment she saw Fizzlepop with Trixie in tow, the former once again wearing her helmet and thus under the Night Guard glamor. The two unicorns had been heading towards the Princess’ offices, but instead ran into her a few hallways down. Officers Moonlight Smiles and Frolicsome Meadowlark, both pegasi, were in tow beside the Princess, the same enchantment that glamored Fizzlepop allowing her to see magically concealed name-plates on the peytrals of their armor.
Fizzlepop took a moment to glance to Trixie, making sure that the young mare’s horn wasn’t glowing – that she was talking to the real Princess and not another illusion. “Briefly impersonated you, your majesty,” she said as she made to kneel, though she’d barely bent knee before Luna waved off the motion, “in order to speed along recruiting one of your Night Guard for a trip into Canterlot. Given the circumstances, Captain Armet thought it best to confirm that you really were allowing her to leave the castle. If so, I was ordered to accompany her.”
Luna looked down to Trixie, eyes narrowing somewhat. “You impersonated me?”
Trixie shifted her weight from one hoof to another, visibly contemplating telling the complete truth verses bending it and trying to figure out what would least endanger her plans. “Oui, Princess,” she settled on at last. “Ah…Ah just didn’t want to wait. But Ah was gettin’ a guard like you said! Ah just wanted to practice mah magic an’ have a little fun.” She let out a long sigh, looking down at the floor. “Désolé, majesté.”
The Princess considered Trixie’s words, then looked to Fizzlepop. “And you were there?” She asked. When Fizzlepop nodded, Luna looked back to Trixie. “How long were they fooled?”
Trixie opened her mouth – probably to begin spinning a grand tale – but paused when she noticed Luna’s expression. “Not long,” she admitted, as Luna came up to her. “Just a few seconds, Ah think, Shining Armor not even that long…Ah still make you too tall, Princess, an’ your wings too big.”
Luna spared another glance at Fizzlepop, who nodded. “Hmm, we’ll need to step up your memory lessons, then,” the alicorn observed, even as she extended one wing and caught Trixie with it, pulling the young mare close. Trixie giggled, returning the hug with her forelegs. “You need to work on creating what is, not what you want to be.” She smiled a little. “Though I suppose I should take it as a compliment that you seem to imagine a more…iconic version of me than what I really am.”
Luna looked to Fizzlepop next, her smile not dropping. “And I’m glad that my apprentice’s desire to find some way to make everything a production at least is keeping my Night Guard on their hooves. Good work on noticing and preventing Trixie’s coup d’état before it could get off the ground, Officer Berrytwist.”
“Your majesty,” Fizzlepop returned, bowing slightly at the compliment. There was a standing order to the Night Guard that Trixie’s magical aptitude was to be helped along by the Night Guard informing the young unicorn of the flaws in her illusions when she was inevitably caught out. Given that Trixie had only begun to be able to create complex, realistic-looking illusions about a year ago, her progress was remarkable.
Or Fizzlepop assumed it was remarkable, though she had no personal experience to base it on. As Trixie continued to return the Princess’ hug – even as Luna lifted her leg up, trying lightly to shake the unicorn off, though she held on tight – Fizzlepop found herself suppressing a wince at a slight prick of phantom pain from her horn. She told herself that she shouldn’t be feeling jealous of the young mare…but there was a lot to be jealous of Trixie about.
Trixie at last fell from Luna’s leg, though she was instantly caught in the Princess’ horn-glow and set on the ground right-side up, giggling the whole time. Luna looked back to Fizzlepop. “Well. Provided nothing of importance was interrupted, then yes, Trixie has my blessing to leave the castle in your care, Officer Berrytwist.”
Fizzlepop bowed in acknowledgement, to which Luna offered a nod, then set off back to her offices with the other two Night Guard in tow. Only after she and they had turned a corner did Trixie trot up next to Fizzlepop and glance up. “Bien merci,” she whispered conspiratorially. “If you’d told Luna that Ah interrupted your review she might not a’ let me go.”
Fizzlepop felt her eyelids flutter at the words, looking down to Trixie. “I hadn’t realized that,” she said. “I suppose I should tell her – ”
“Non!” Trixie interrupted, diving in front of Fizzlepop before she could move. “Look, the Captain already put it on hold, an’ Shining Armor thought y’all needed a bit to go over things, oui? An’ you don’ want to be un rapporteuse, do ya?”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“A tattle-tale!” Trixie waved her own tail for emphasis. “Tanpri? S’il vous plaît? Per favore? Tafadhali?” She frowned. “Ah don’ know any more words for ‘please’. Oh! Except that one! Please?”
Fizzlepop let out a long sigh as she regarded the filly in front of her, weighing her duty with the fact that there was a little unicorn who seemed desperate to get out of the castle and see this show of hers. And besides, Captain Armet had left her with the distinct impression that the review – and its results – were a forgone conclusion. So it really wasn’t important, seen in that light…even if it was depressing.
She felt her head hang a little at that thought. If tonight really was going to end up being her last real night in the Guard, then she couldn’t bring herself to have it center on ruining a filly’s plans. Besides, it wasn’t like it’d look much better to catch up to the Princess and correct herself after just telling her that everything was fine. “Alright,” she allowed.
“Great!” Trixie exclaimed with a jump. “Ah’ll go get mah stuff! Meet you at the gate tout suite!” With that, she was off. Fizzlepop rolled her eyes, wondering where the filly got that much energy – where anypony did, for that matter. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had it herself…
Fizzlepop held a hoof in front of her eyes, staring at it as she sat a few dozen feet from the gates of Canterlot Castle. The tremor that Captain Armet had mentioned had faded out by now, leaving her foreleg to tremble only with the normal pulse of blood flowing through her hoof’s frog. The cool evening air had also managed to liven her senses and wake her up a little more. Another thing she didn’t miss from the Army was waking up at the crack of dawn – Princess Luna was, before anything else, the Shepherd of the Moon, and lived a fairly nocturnal existence. She went to sleep with the rise of the Sun and usually didn’t wake until after midday, and her Court and Night Guard naturally oriented itself around that schedule, and thus so too did the ponies of Canterlot even as the rest of Equestria remained diurnal.
Of course, the trade-off was that the city was constantly on the verge of running out of coffee, something that Fizzlepop wished she’d had more of at breakfast. Though it probably wouldn’t have done her tremors any favors…
Fizzlepop shook her head, trying to banish the thoughts of her impending transfer and/or discharge from her mind, and focus on her assignment. Fortunately Canterlot was a safe city, and the theater where Don Rocinante was playing, La Commedia della Luna, was only two tiers down the mountain from the castle, well clear of what passed for the rough neighborhoods. Trixie and Fizzlepop would be taking a carriage to the theater, and the carriage-ponies would be Castle Guards themselves. Two Castle Guards plus one Night Guard was more than sufficient protection for an outing like this.
A small, stupid part of Fizzlepop’s mind almost hoped that something would happen so that she could prove her worth, but that part of her brain was forced to sit in the corner by the rest of her psyche. A completely routine evening without surprises was what Fizzlepop really needed. Trixie was even looking forward to this enough that she would probably, maybe, hopefully keep herself in check and not cause a scene…
…Fizzlepop had glanced in the direction of the Castle as she’d thought that, and as such her hopes were instantly dashed. “What are you wearing?” She asked.
Trixie actually looked proud of the ensemble she had on, a purple wizard’s hat and matching high-collared cape, both studded with stars and looking too big on the filly. “Mah finest attire!” Trixie exclaimed with a flourish of her cape, and hiding half her face behind the gigantic, upturned collar. “Ah’m a magician, after all!”
“I thought Luna was training you to become a noble.”
“Oui. Ah can be both things! Who says Ah can’t?”
Fizzlepop tried to imagine any of the two hundred forty-three nobles of the Night Court performing magic tricks on a stage, but her mind drew a blank even when it pulled the small, stupid part out of the corner for help. “And you’re…going out like that?” Fizzlepop asked. “In public?”
Trixie didn’t miss Fizzlepop’s tone, and her eyes narrowed. “Just ‘cause I make the greatest an’ powerfulest illusions in Equestria don’t mean that Ah hide behind ‘em.” She closed her eyes and cast her nose in the air, trotting forward and past Fizzlepop in true Canterlot fashion. “Ah don’t ‘spect a Night Guard to get that, hidin’ behind a Nightmare Night costume all the time – an’ you gots more t’ hide than most.” One of Trixie’s eyes opened so she could stare at Fizzlepop’s horn. She’d seen her without the glamor, she knew that it was broken.
Fizzlepop felt heat surge through her body, and her horn sparked before she could stop herself, multihued flashes bursting forth and arching around the base of her horn. Trixie froze in her trot, both eyes open now and ears folded back. Fizzlepop advanced a step, looking down at the filly. “Are you going to make this a long night?” She asked.
“Non,” Trixie immediately answered, her voice small. She cleared her throat, and then looked back to Fizzlepop. “Ah – Ah mean, no. Désolé. Ah’m sorry.”
“Good. Let’s get moving.”
As much as she wanted to move immediately after saying that, it wouldn’t do to get moving without her charge for the night. Trixie took a moment more to compose herself, then set off, head hanging low as Fizzlepop matched her pace. “Ah’m sorry,” Trixie repeated. “Ah bet ya got that protectin’ Luna, oui? Some anarchist threw a bomb, and you jumped in front an’ grabbed it an’ tried to throw it away, but the feedback…”
Fizzlepop grit her teeth as they reached the gate. “That wasn’t what happened,” she said.
Trixie perked up at that. “Oh?” She asked, head tilting to the side. “Hmm…”
Fizzlepop did not like the sound of that, but they had reached the gate, and a carriage was already outside and waiting for them. Taking in a deep breath, Fizzlepop left the gate first, eyes sweeping left, right, and forward, looking for any sign of anything out of the ordinary. At this time of the evening, the streets in front of the castle were fairly crowded, pages and courtiers and nobles moving back and forth between Canterlot Castle and the city in a constant stream, as well as civilians going about their normal evening of hustling to and fro – working, playing, living.
She didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, and so Fizzlepop stepped aside to allow Trixie to advance to the carriage. One of the Castle Guard hadn’t hooked himself up to it yet and was waiting for her, opening the door to let the filly in. She struggled a little to get the full length of her cape in after her, and the guard cast a knowing, resigned look at Fizzlepop. Training prevented her from returning it, but only just as she climbed in after Trixie and settled down.
They were off as soon as the Castle Guard fastened himself to the harness of the carriage. Trixie kept the curtains of the carriage’s doors pulled back so that they could see the city of Canterlot and the ponies in it as they passed by. Two years of training in the Night Guard made Fizzlepop a little nervous at that, since it meant that any potential threat would have an easier time seeing Trixie…but with this trip being last-minute and Trixie not really being a high-priority target, the threat was even less than minimal.
“Can Ah see your face again, please?” Trixie asked after several minutes of silence. “Your real face, tanpri.”
“No,” Fizzlepop answered immediately. “I’m on-duty.”
“What if Ah ordered you?”
“You can’t. You don’t have any authority over the Guard.” Fizzlepop couldn’t stop herself from smiling in relief at that. When Trixie had first come to Canterlot there had been some concern throughout the city and beyond as to what that meant for the Crown and the line of secession and so on (especially as Trixie’s rather forceful personality had become general knowledge), until Luna had made it clear that Trixie had not been adopted – she still had a loving family back in Neigh Orleans, after all – nor was she being given any official power or authority at the moment. While the intent was to groom her into a noble pony and have her join the Night Court, she was not a noble pony yet, and in any event would never be given a position of power over the affairs of Equestria as a whole.
The whole country had breathed a collective sigh of relief at that. The idea of Trixie Lulamoon with any real authority or power over anypony was unsettling, to say the least.
Trixie, however, looked like she thought Fizzlepop’s grin was meant to be teasing. “Mais, you’re supposed to guard me. What if Ah said that Ah’d run out a’ the carriage unless you took off your helmet? Then you’d have to do it ‘less you wanna risk losin’ me in Canterlot.”
“Or,” Fizzlepop countered, “I could remind you that nowhere in my orders does it say that you have to be conscious during the play.”
Trixie’s jaw dropped and eyes widened. Fizzlepop took a moment to wonder how the Princess would react to Fizzlepop threatening her apprentice…given the context, probably with mirth, to be honest. Of all ponies, Princess Luna certainly knew how hard Trixie was to deal with the best. Trixie herself seemed to realize this as well as she turned from Fizzlepop, grumbling to herself in Prench.
Fizzlepop suppressed a sigh as she looked out a window, scanning the ponies outside but finding nothing to interrupt her thoughts…because, on the other hoof, even if the Princess did take offense, would it really matter? Discharged by Opal Armet because the Captain didn’t understand Fizzlepop’s need to prove her worth, discharged by the Princess for threatening her apprentice…ether way after tonight her career in the Night Guard was over. So what difference did it make?
Well, mostly the former was likely to have her transferred back to the Army with her previous rank and pay reinstated, while the latter was rather more likely to result in her banishment to the Griffin Kingdoms with all the other political detritus of Equestria.
Fizzlepop’s thoughts were interrupted by a subtle pinkish-blue glow from Trixie’s side of the carriage. Glancing over, she saw Trixie weaving an illusion in front of her, a pony’s head. As she watched, the illusion took on more distinct features – a deep purple coat, brighter pinkish mane, turquoise eyes, and a unicorn’s horn, Trixie’s hooves moving as though she were literally sculpting the trick of light.
Despite the coloration, it took Fizzlepop a moment to realize that she was looking at an illusory bust of herself. The muzzle was a little too long and the eyes too large and too far apart, and the ears a little too long. And, of course, there was an intact horn. Still, it was a pretty good facsimile of a face that Trixie had seen only briefly. Fizzlepop was about to comment on it when Trixie used a hoof to draw in the scar that ran across Fizzlepop’s right eye, then paused as she looked at the intact unicorn horn. She glanced over to Fizzlepop, and noticed the Night Guard staring at her.
Trixie glanced between her illusion and Fizzlepop a few times. “Did you get your scar at the same time your horn broke?” She asked.
Fizzlepop’s eyes narrowed, even as her ears flicked from the low roar she heard in the back of her mind. “Get rid of that,” she said, nodding towards the illusion. Much to her surprise, Trixie actually complied, the illusion disappearing into pinkish-blue mist.
“Trainin’ accident,” Trixie said.
“What?”
“Ah heard that when a new batch a’ recruits to the Night Guard join up, Luna gets y’all together an’ has a cannon fired at her three times. She dodges the first cannon ball, then catches the second, then lets the third hit her. It’s supposed t’ show y’all that she don’t really need protectin’ so as y’all learn real quick that y’all are supposed to protect the ponies around Luna, since anythin’ that could really hurt her is gonna put a lot a’ innocent ponies at risk.”
Fizzlepop blinked a few times as she took that in. “Who told you that?” She asked.
“Luna. Anyway, is that what happened? Luna missed or didn’ know you was behind her an’ that’s how your horn broke?”
The Night Guard wasn’t exactly sure where to begin. The idea was absurd enough to break through even what had been her building anger at Trixie. “Princess Luna doesn’t have cannons shot at her,” she decided upon at last.
Trixie’s eyes went wide. “The Princess lied to me?” She asked, then added “again?”
“I’m afraid so. And no, it wasn’t a training accident. Stop asking.”
“Can Ah see your face so’s at least next time Ah make it Ah can get it right?”
“No.”
Trixie threw up her hooves and let out a groan. She glanced out the window, and saw that they hadn’t even left the top tier of Canterlot yet. They still had two entire tiers of travel and traffic before they reached the theater. She took off her hat, stuck her hoof inside, and then pulled out a deck of cards and started shuffling them, then held them forth to Fizzlepop. “Pick a card.”
“No. I know this trick. No matter what card I pick you’ll be able to pull it out from behind my ear or under my seat or something.” Fizzlepop looked back out the carriage window. Canterlot had a high population of unicorns, and she saw a couple and their colt at an outdoor café, having...honestly given the flow of Canterlot’s day it could have been breakfast, lunch, or dinner. The colt was practicing his telekinesis, a green glow that stuttered but held firm as he levitated a pastry into his mouth.
Fizzlepop turned away with a grunt, and found Trixie staring at her. “What?” She asked.
“Look under your seat.”
“I didn’t pick a card.”
“Ah know.”
Fizzlepop rolled her eyes, but decided that if they had to pass the time in any way, the filly doing amateur magic tricks was probably the least vexing. She moved to the other side of the carriage so that she could see under her own seat better, Trixie making room for her. But when she looked, she saw nothing at all, even as she leaned closer. “You’re making it invisible.”
“Mah horn ain’t glowin’.”
“So then it’s going to be revealed to be in my armor or something, right?” She patted herself down.
“Nope.”
Fizzlepop grunted as she moved back to her side of the carriage. “Well you had me move for some reason,” she said, scratching at an itch on her neck. Her hoof touched something unfamiliar as she did, and she hesitated a moment before grunting and drawing out a card that had been tucked beneath her helmet’s neck-guard. It was the two of hearts. “Very impressive,” she droned, as another card fell from her helmet, loosened by the first one having been removed. Then another fell... then another...
“How many did you...?” Fizzlepop asked, a bit of genuine mirth in her voice as a fourth card fell from her helmet. She took it off to glance inside, finding two more cards stuck in there...and then froze. She raised her no-longer-glamored eyes to Trixie.
The filly had her front hooves raised, framing Fizzlepop’s true face as she took in the details. “You ever think a’ changin’ your name?” She asked. “Some ponies do when they get their cutie marks or new jobs. Since you in the guard you ever think a’ somethin’ like...Dusky Storm? Nah...ooh! Tempest Shadow. It suits you. Oh, and Ah win.”
Fizzlepop put her helmet back on, took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Trixie?”
“Oui?”
“Step out of line one more time and you will go back to Princess Luna in a BODY BAG!”
Fizzlepop’s outburst ended with her leaping forward and pinning her hooves against the carriage’s wall, looming over the filly with her lips pulled back in a snarl exposing glamored fangs, and her illusory slit eyes wide open. Trixie had fallen backwards, frozen in fear for a few seconds before nodding vigorously. “Oui! Oui! Oui! Désolé! Mo chagren! Ah’ll behave!”
“Good.”
Fizzlepop fell back into her seat, breathing heavily from the outburst. She felt tremors along her muscles...adrenaline pumping, though it shouldn’t have been causing her limbs to shake. Maybe Armet had a point...a thought which just further soured her mood as she closed her eyes and breathed, trying to will herself to calm down, reminding herself that Trixie was just a filly half her age and shouldn’t be riling her up so. It was like her special talent was pushing buttons or something...
Finally, the tremors died down...just as she heard a whimper from the other side of the carriage. A part of her mind felt satisfied by the sound...and the rest of her felt disgusted at that part of her. Fizzlepop suppressed a groan as she opened her eyes and looked to Trixie. The filly was hunkered down, almost using her too-long cape as a shield, and flinched when her eyes met Fizzlepop’s.
They stared at each other in silence for several long moments, before Fizzlepop finally let out a long sigh, looking down. After a few moments of consideration, she took her helmet back off and looked back to Trixie with her real face. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Trixie’s only response was another whimper. It cut into Fizzlepop like a knife. She glanced out a window, saw they had at last made their way down to the second tier of Canterlot city, then looked back to Trixie. “What time is the play at?”
“Eight o’clock!” Trixie answered instantly, then somehow curled in even more on herself, obviously hoping that the answer wouldn’t anger Fizzlepop further.
A glance out at the sky showed that it was probably around seven o’clock...plenty of time even with the traffic. Fizzlepop slipped her helmet back on and then leaned out the window. “Slight change of plans,” she called to the Castle Guard pulling the carriage. “Find the nearest café...or preferably ice cream shop.”
The closer guard looked to her with a raised eyebrow. “That bad?” He asked. He’d probably heard Fizzlepop’s outburst...him and half of Canterlot. She knew she had quite the set of lungs on her. “You can’t say she doesn’t deserve it.”
Fizzlepop’s eyes narrowed at that. “No she didn’t,” she countered as she came back in to the carriage. She found Trixie looking at her with confusion now mixed in to the abject terror in her eyes. “I’m buying you...something with sugar in it. Depends on where we stop. Root beer float, if I can help it.” They always helped Fizzlepop feel better, at least.
Trixie swallowed, but unfolded a little. Her hooves played with the edges of her cape for several long, quiet minutes before she finally spoke up. “Hot sauce.”
“Pardon?”
“Ah’d like it to have some hot sauce in it. S’il vous plaît.”
“...what?”
Fizzlepop stared across the carriage at the red swirls staining what otherwise would have been a perfectly normal chocolate root beer float. In a sane world, the red might have been cherry, or perhaps strawberry flavoring. Alas, the world was not sane. Even from here Fizzlepop’s nostrils pricked at the scent of hot sauce coming from Trixie’s cup.
A younger and more innocent part of Fizzlepop was indignant at the ruination of what had once been a root beer float, but the mature adult in her instead focused on the fact that Trixie seemed to have calmed down, at least. She sipped at her float thoughtfully as she stared at Fizzlepop, who had her own float topped with a generous helping of berries of different varieties in her own hooves. They’d managed to make a stop, pick up their drinks, and get back under way in record time, and had traversed the entire second tier in silence. They were now in the third tier of Canterlot, closing in on the theater.
“Ah’m...Ah’m sorry,” Trixie said at length around her straw. She removed it from her mouth and stared down at her float, held in her hooves. “Ah’m not a good pony.”
“You’re a filly,” Fizzlepop countered. She’d taken her helmet off and set it beside her in the carriage. “Kids...can be cruel without meaning it.” Something she knew from personal experience. She looked down at her own float, and couldn’t stop herself from using her straw to blow a bubble in it, watching it expand before popping open. Some of it got on her muzzle; she licked it off, even as she scratched an errant flank-itch “The day I lost my horn was the worst day of my life, Trixie. I don’t like to think about it, or talk about it...but I should have been clearer about that from the start.”
“Ah shoulda’ noticed,” Trixie said. “Ah won’t ask no more.”
“Thank you.”
Trixie fidgeted a little. “What was the best day?” She asked.
Fizzlepop had blown another bubble in her root beer. As it popped, she briefly considered her cutie mark story, but found herself shaking her head. “The day I met Shining Armor,” she said. “Commander Armor. Though back then he was Officer Armor.”
Trixie shifted, suddenly looking a little green in he face for some reason. “Are you an’ he...” she trailed off, taking her float into her telekinesis so that she could lightly tap her hooves together.
Fizzlepop sputtered, causing quite a few bubbles to swell in her float and a few of the berries in it to spill out. “No!” She objected once she could breathe properly again. “I...I mean, not that he isn’t attractive...but no. Not like that. Besides, he prefers older mares.”
Trixie breathed out a sigh of relief as she grabbed her float in her hooves again. “What happened with you an’ him, then? Tanpri?”
Fizzlepop chuckled a little as she glanced out the window. “Among other things, I threw a rock at his head,” she said, prompting a confused head-tilt from Trixie, “but I think the story will have to wait. We’re here.”
Trixie’s eyes lit up at that as she glanced out the window, and saw that Fizzlepop was right. She plucked the straw from her root beer and downed the contents directly as quickly as she could, wincing mightily at the resultant brain freeze but shaking it off with the power of youthful exuberance. “We gotta go!” She said, grabbing her hat and producing a sheet of paper from it — not a ticket, but rather permission from the Princess to use her reserved-in-perpetuity box.
Fizzlepop finished her own float off somewhat slower (to Trixie’s excited annoyance), though she did ditch the straw so she could enjoy the semi-frozen berries and the crackles they and the carbonated soda made as she swallowed them. Then she slipped her helmet back on and opened the door facing La Commedia della Luna. The carriage had pulled right up to the entrance, and many ponies outside had looked to see who from the castle had arrived. More than a few had curious eyebrows raise when they spotted Trixie, either not recognizing her or not being very familiar with her yet the way Canterlot Castle’s servants and staff had become.
Fizzlepop’s own eyes narrowed at the stares of several nobles she recognized who eyed Trixie particularly closely. Commoners ascending into the nobility was hardly unheard of in Equestria, but doing so under Luna’s personal tutelage was certainly novel...and something those nobles saw as a potential avenue towards the Princess. Trixie may not have been adopted, but surely she had the Princess’ ear in her own way. If she said the right words, perhaps on the perfectly innocent advice or after “overhearing” the concerns of this duke or that marquess...
Fortunately tall, muscled mares with fangs and the slit eyes of a dragon tended to win staring contests pretty easily. Those nobles whose eyes lingered too long on Trixie quickly found themselves looking at Fizzlepop instead, and even more quickly thereafter found something more interesting to look at.
Satisfied that nopony was going to be stupid enough to make a move, Fizzlepop trotted up to the Castle Guard. “The show is four hours total,” she said, and couldn’t help but smile. “Did you pack a lunch?”
One of the guards returned the grin. “There’s a sandwich shop just down the road, that’s where we usually go. I’ll pick something up and we’ll eat in the carriage. This isn’t our first rodeo, bats.”
“Maybe a couple of floats since you didn’t pick anything up for us,” the other Castle Guard added.
Fizzlepop took the friendly inter-service barbs with practiced stride, “bats” hardly even being pejorative since if one couldn’t cope with looking like one had crawled from the pages of a pulp horror story, one didn’t last long in the Night Guard. She had a few good ones herself about how the Castle Guard armor made them look a little like fish, but she decided to keep them to herself tonight. “Okay. See you at midnight, boys.”
The two Castle Guard nodded, and Fizzlepop came back over to the carriage door. She was almost surprised to find that Trixie, despite her excitement, had managed to remain inside the carriage and wait for her escort. “All right, come on,” she said, offering a hoof to help Trixie down. The filly was a bit too eager, however, ignoring the hoof and hopping down to the ground directly, though she pranced in place rather than running off, at least until she noticed Fizzlepop staring at her. She giggled a little. “Mo chagren,” she apologized. “Ah’m just so excited! Don Rocinante is mah favorite book, an’ this is a musical play of it!”
“It’s fine,” Fizzlepop said, as she started trotting, Trixie keeping pace. “Just don’t leave my side, and behave yourself. Okay?”
“Oui! Ain’t nothin’ gonna stop — “
“Trixie Lulamoon! There you are!”
Trixie and Fizzlepop both froze and snapped their heads in the direction of the voice at the same time, Fizzlepop stepping closer to Trixie. She found herself looking at two earth ponies, a mare and a stallion, both wearing uniforms that consisted of rust-red colored light armor over blue livery depicting the stylized image of a pegasus, a unicorn, and an earth pony trotting around the outside of a ring.
But it was the blond-maned, white-coated unicorn colt who looked about Trixie’s age, standing between his two bodyguards, that Trixie reacted to. “Oh, aborder,” she mumbled, barely loud enough for Fizzlepop to hear.
The colt must have misheard what Fizzlepop was certain was a Neigh Orleanean swear, as he smiled brightly, flashing pearly white teeth. “Bonjour to you as well, Trixie,” said Prince Blueblood.
Author's Notes:
A subtle thing I’ve been doing for years — I don’t know if anyone’s picked up on it but I feel like commenting on it now — is that Trixie almost never refers to Luna as “Princess”, except when actually in her presence and talking to her. When Luna isn’t around, though, and Trixie isn’t talking in any official capacity, she just uses “Luna” more often than not.
This is meant to deliberately contrast with how Twilight almost always says “Princess Celestia”, full title and name, and showcase the different dynamic Trixie has with Luna.
3. The Impossible Dream
Nothing in Canterlot was ever as simple as two ponies who knew each other just happening to bump into each other. Fizzlepop eyed Prince – his name, not his title, the Blueblood family having a tradition of naming their children after titles – trying to remember everything she could about the colt. His father was Duke Blueblood, Baron of Hysanguia, and Fizzlepop was pretty certain Prince himself had at least a couple honorary lordships and possibly a baronetcy with its power held in trust by his father until he came of age. Despite the low rank of nobility, the House Blueblood was an ancient and powerful one within Equestria.
There had been some scandal last year with Duke Blueblood, though, something involving a substantial amount of alcohol and the Princess herself at the last Grand Galloping Gala. Fizzlepop hadn’t been on-duty at the time, but she knew that though Duke Blueblood was still Baron of Hysanguia and still nominally held his place within the Night Court, he had been sent to the North Everfree province to serve as the Night Court representative to the town of Ponyville, and so typically had to act through proxies instead of in person.
Which meant that though Prince Blueblood may merely have been a young colt, that didn’t mean that he didn’t potentially have political designs on Trixie to try and get his father returned from his de facto exile. And even if that wasn’t the case, he was also still a maturing colt and Trixie a maturing filly, and everything that potentially entailed with summer – heat season – a scant few weeks away.
Fizzlepop stepped a little closer to Trixie and leaned down. “We’re running late, Trixie,” she said, just loud enough to be heard by Prince, giving Trixie an out.
If Trixie herself heard, she didn’t acknowledge as she stepped forward, doffing her hat and swirling her too-long cape about her as she did the last thing Fizzlepop expected: bow respectfully, if ostentatiously, to the colt. “Sir Prince,” she said as she rose. Her accent had become a clipped and precise Canterlotian, the same one she had affected when impersonating Luna, though she didn’t change her voice. “Last week at the Eventime soiree I overheard you talking to some other ponies about this play, and it reminded me that I didn’t have a lot of time left to see it. So I would like to thank you for that.”
He just happened to be talking about it in earshot, did he? Fizzlepop wondered, eyes narrowing a little.
Prince seemed as unsurprised by Trixie’s words as Fizzlepop expected him to be. “Well, of course,” he said, recovering swiftly. A stray breeze carried the scent of cologne to Fizzlepop’s nose; she struggled not to react to it. “The play is highly recommended, and I recall you saying how this story is one of your favorites.”
“I did not know that you intended to come, however,” Trixie continued. “I thought you had already seen it, hadn’t you?”
“Well, yes, when it premiered.” Prince smiled brightly as he stepped forward, though still keeping a friendly distance between him and Trixie. “With my father and several of his peers. The Princess also attended. But I admit that I had only just arrived in Canterlot the night before and was still getting used to the different pulse of the city.” He shrugged, his smile becoming sheepish. “I fell asleep very near the beginning. Most embarrassing.”
Trixie’s eyelids fluttered rapidly at Prince’s words. “You fell asleep?” She asked, her accent slipping. “But…it’s Don Rocinante! The first novel! An’ it’s a classic, an’…” she shifted, glancing at the theater and then back to Prince. “It…it wasn’t boring, was it?”
Prince closed his eyes and shook his head, holding up both hooves. “Not at all, not from what I remember, in any event. It was just tiredness on my part.”
Trixie let out a long, relieved sigh at that, one hoof at her chest. “Mo chagren…ahem. Ah – I mean, I am sorry, Sir Prince.”
“Please, just Prince.” He looked her up and down, and Fizzlepop noticed a slight twitch in one eye as he did at Trixie’s choice of attire. But his reaction was limited to the eye-twitch only, and his voice didn’t waver or betray any emotion other than genuine friendliness…although he did come a little closer to Trixie than was entirely friendly. The scent of cologne grew. “It’s been a very long time since the sandbox. We’ve both grown since then…perhaps a fresh start is in order?”
Alarm bells went off in Fizzlepop’s head at the young – but not so young – colt’s tone, the glint in his eye, his smile, the cologne he was wearing, the distance he put between himself and Trixie, and the knowledge that apparently the two had a history. She took a very deliberate step forward to stand alongside Trixie. The action prompted the two youngest ponies present to jump, while Prince’s own bodyguards advanced to flank their charge. Fizzlepop eyed both of them silently for a full five seconds before looking down to Trixie. “We are running late, Trixie,” she said.
Trixie looked up at Fizzlepop confusedly, not seeming to understand the exact source of her concern. Fizzlepop wondered if Trixie was aware of her own tail flicking slightly more animatedly than normal underneath her cape; Fizzlepop could see the motions, although Prince couldn’t from this angle, which was probably just as well. “Okay,” Trixie said at length, apparently trusting Fizzlepop. “I do want to get some snacks for the show anyhow…”
“There may be just enough time…” Fizzlepop said as she backed away, preparing to turn around.
“Oh!” Trixie exclaimed. She looked back to Prince, tapping her front hooves together, breathing in, then out. “Just two quick things. First…I know that after I pushed you into a sandbox three years ago I wrote an apology letter to you. But you probably also know that Luna made me write it. It wasn’t a real apology.” She gathered herself up. “So this is. Sir Prince Blueblood, I’m sorry that I was a little brat when we first met.”
Prince smiled, an actual shine on his teeth for just a moment as he did. “Of course, Trixie. I don’t recall comporting myself much better, so I apologize as well.”
“But,” Trixie said, holding up a hoof, “My grand-père always taught me that words are cheap. So for a real-real apology…” She held up the sheet of paper that had the Princess’ permission to use her private theater box on it. “How would you like to join me? Best seats in the house!”
Prince’s eyes widened at his turn of luck. “Well,” he said, not missing a beat, “that sounds quite lovely, Trixie. I accept, of course.”
Fizzlepop barely suppressed a groan as the two young ponies trotted off towards the theater. She and Prince’s own bodyguards kept pace right behind them. She glanced over to the two earth ponies, who didn’t look troubled at all by this turn of events. As the group reached the ticket counter, Fizzlepop took the permission slip from Trixie and gave it a quick glance, hoping that Princess Luna’s ceaseless benevolence would provide Fizzlepop with an out. Instead Princess Luna’s bottomless cruelty had seen fit to give permission to “Trixie Lulamoon & entourage” to use her theater box, without defining the size or composition of said entourage. The intent had probably been to ensure that there would be no ambiguity as to whether or not Fizzlepop could join her.
Fizzlepop considered what to do as they made their way from the ticket booth to the concession stand, Blueblood offering to pay for everything, because of course he was. On the one hoof, Trixie was not her commander and could not give her orders, and in fact Luna would certainly agree that Trixie had to obey Fizzlepop’s own orders. So she could simply outright state that Trixie was not allowed to go on this impromptu date with Prince, he’d have to go to his own seat, and if they wanted to date they should arrange things better ahead of time.
On the second hoof, Fizzlepop’s standing orders did not include preventing Trixie from going on a date. While Trixie and Prince apparently had some sort of history, Fizzlepop had no reason to suspect any sort of ulterior motive from the young stallion – well, no more ulterior than Trixie would encounter from any pony her age when dating, and Trixie was surely old enough to have had a talk about the birds and the bees. Besides which, Fizzlepop would be right with the two of them in the box – it was big enough to seat six, if she recalled correctly – and with this being a first date between the two it was unlikely that anything untoward would happen anyway.
On the third hoof, the fact that Prince had something to gain from attempting to date Trixie was as plain as a full moon on a cloudless night. Simple interest in one another was one thing, but Prince was the foal of a noble and a noble himself, and old enough to have started to skirt the edges of the Game. Was anything as simple as budding feelings between two young ponies in the Night Court? Of course not. Even if they were real, they’d be a secondary concern. Prince could very easily have been merely attempting to use Trixie as an avenue towards influence over Luna, or early influence over Trixie for whenever she ascended into the Night Court. Trixie herself might have been doing the same thing, of course, and somehow that seemed almost worse to Fizzlepop. She didn’t like the idea of the filly dirtying her hooves so. Annoying though Trixie could be, there was a degree of innocence to it. The politicking and backroom deals of the Night Court would ruin that.
But on the final hoof…Fizzlepop kept alternating between keeping an eye on the room and keeping an eye on Trixie. And there was no doubt that Trixie looked happy as she and Prince looked over the concessions selection. Fizzlepop had already accepted that she was not going to be in the Night Guard tomorrow night, had decided to try and make her final assignment a good one. They had gotten off to a rough start…but Fizzlepop had wanted to make this night about keeping Trixie happy.
The two got their concessions – Prince curiously eyeing the mustard that Trixie had gotten to go along with her peanuts – and the group of ponies proceeded to Luna’s private theater box, set into La Commedia della Luna’s second balcony and offering an unimpeded view of the stage. The box featured two tiers of three seats, the forward-center one larger than the rest, with a small table between each seat for snacks. Trixie couldn’t help but squeal softly as she settled into the seat that Luna normally watched her plays from. The chair was actually big enough for two ponies of Trixie’s size, Fizzlepop noted…but thankfully, Prince did not make a similar observation, instead taking the seat to Trixie’s right.
Fizzlepop eyed the final seat to Trixie’s left. She could take that one, but that would put both of Blueblood’s guards behind her, and her institutionally-instilled paranoia didn’t care much for that. Taking the center seat behind Trixie’s would have either of Blueblood’s guards flank her, also not ideal, but nor did she care much for the idea of taking an edge seat and having the two of them immediately behind Trixie. So she turned to the two earth ponies, looking them up and down. “One of you should stand guard outside,” she said. “The door locks from this side. Three knocks if you want to get in, four knocks if there’s trouble.”
She had expected an argument, perhaps that she should be the one outside – an argument that the two would most certainly have lost. Instead, the mare of the two held up her hoof. “Dibs,” she said, heading outside. “Four hours of musical theater…no thanks.”
The other earth pony closed and locked the door after her, and then took the back-right seat, immediately behind Prince. Of the remainder, Fizzlepop decided the back-center was ideal, and settled down into it. No sooner had she then she found herself looking at Trixie, who was standing on her seat, looking back at her. “Ah never asked if you had read Don Rocinante,” she noted in a low voice. When Fizzlepop shook her head, Trixie grinned “You’re gonna love it!”
“I’m going to be distracted,” Fizzlepop said, indicating the still-filling theater. They had about ten minutes to go before the show began; the orchestra was already beginning to warm up. “My job is to keep watch on you, not watch the play.”
Trixie screwed up her face at that. “Mais…try to watch some of it.” She glanced slightly up at Fizzlepop’s horn, though her eyes quickly returned to Fizzlepop’s. “Ah think…Ah think it’ll mean somethin’ to you. Help you with Captain Armet.”
It took Fizzlepop a moment to realize that the normal flush of heat through her body that she felt when a pony looked to her horn hadn’t come. She looked pointedly at Trixie. “Why?” She asked. “What’s the book about?”
Trixie was silent, head downcast for a few moments as she thought, before she looked back to Fizzlepop with a large grin on her face. “The reason why Ah keep gettin’ Luna wrong.”
Before Fizzlepop could ask anything else, Trixie turned around and dropped nearly out of sight back into her seat. Fizzlepop stared after her for a moment, before shaking her head and sighing. She wondered if Prince was this talkative with his guards. Probably not – he would have been raised to think it improper, something that Fizzlepop largely had to agree with. It made her job harder.
Although something else that made her job hard, though in a different way, was the seat she was in. Luna’s private theater box was not the peanut gallery. The cushions to the chairs were thick and plush, the seat long enough to allow a pony to lie down on his or her barrel comfortably while still seeing the stage clearly. The noise of ponies in the theater shuffling about talking to one another and the orchestra continuing to warm up swiftly became white noise to Fizzlepop. Her eyes scanned over the theater-goers and saw a host of different coat and mane colors that swiftly began to blend together…
Fizzlepop remembered closing her eyes for just a moment, wanting to get her focus back. But the next thing she knew the opening chords of the overture began, and the lights of the theater had been dimmed except for those focused on the still-drawn curtains. Her eyes widened at the realization that she had just dozed off. She immediately checked on Trixie and saw her exactly where she was supposed to be. A glance at Prince’s bodyguard found him keeping an eye on his charge; when he noticed Fizzlepop staring at him he looked confused, no sign that he’d noticed her lapse.
Fizzlepop looked away, sitting upright in the seat, though ironically the very plushness of the cushion beneath her made that uncomfortable. But that was good, discomfort would keep her awake. She struggled to maintain an outwardly neutral expression even as she felt a mixture of shame and anger sweep through her. Of all the things that a bodyguard could do wrong, drifting off while on-duty was without a doubt the worst, a total and complete personal failure without excuse. Anger like she hadn’t felt in years, directly firmly at her own faithless soul, gripped her, and it was all she could do to keep that anger from manifesting outwardly from the shattered remains of her horn.
Opal Armet was right, Fizzlepop realized as the overture continued. The Captain of the Royal Guard was totally right. She wasn’t fit to serve in the Night Guard. This assignment was simplicity itself and she’d fallen asleep! How could she protect Luna, protect anything, if she’d drift off just because she was sitting in some fancy chair, no matter how comfortable it was?
Fizzlepop hadn’t expected to be in the state of mind to even look at the stage, as her eyes drifted over the ponies below, keeping an eye on everything around her. But when the curtains pulled back her head did snap towards it on instinct…
…and she saw a prison had been set up on the stage. A prison that didn’t look familiar in the slightest, and yet Fizzlepop found her breath catching in her throat at the sight of it. Her mind was cast backwards seven years…a holding cell. Chains around her fetlocks. A ring around her horn to suppress its magic, though the guards of the prison had joked with each other if it had even been necessary. Only self-preservation and not wanting to make her situation worse had kept Fizzlepop from disabusing them of that notion.
A gray-coated unicorn in silver armor with yellow slit eyes and fangs. He looked ridiculous. But when he took off his helmet – which had a slight dent in it – his form had shimmered, and revealed a white coat and two-toned blue mane, and bright cerulean, kind eyes. He’d tapped a hoof on the dent in his helmet. “You missed,” was the first thing he’d ever said to her. At her, really. She’d barely paid attention at the start. It had taken a couple hours before he was talking to her…until she’d started listening.
Fizzlepop shook her head, clearing it. Now was not the time to be reminiscing…she blamed Trixie for that, her cryptic words about what the play was about and how it would help Fizzlepop. Or probably her state of mind, her anger and frustration and shame messing with her head. Her circumstances tonight, her last night in the Night Guard, making her think of the day that had started her quest to join it.
“Hear me now, O thou bleak and unbearable world…” the lead stallion’s voice drifted up from the stage below – the singing had begun, a deep baritone in this case. “Thou art base and debauched as can be…but a knight with his banner so bravely unfurled now hurls down a challenge to thee! I am Don Rocinante, Hero of Equestria, my destiny calls and I go…and the wild winds of fortune shall carry me onwards O withersoever they blow…”
In spite of herself, Fizzlepop found herself settling back down onto the cushion beneath her, though she kept her eyes wide, splitting her focus between the stage and her duty, the music and acting keeping her awake.
She had missed the beginning, but it was fairly easy to put together the play. Don Rocinante was a mad pony, an old pegasus stallion with too much access to romanticized history books who’d lost his mind and decided to become a knight-errant and venture across the south-western regions of Equestria, righting wrong and doing good. He was completely inept, too old to fight, wings barely strong enough to keep him aloft. His armor was shambles and his weapon rusty. His very opening scene had him confusing a windmill with a great four-headed hydra and attacking it…and losing, a loss he blamed on never being truly knighted and on his great enemy, the Enchanter, rather than the fact that he was old and decrepit.
It should have been a comedic farce, but Don Rocinante was too earnest to be entirely funny. It should have been tragic, to see a pony with such a broken mind…and yet Fizzlepop found herself drawn in to his every word, and scowling at the ponies who doubted Rocinante, trying to disabuse him of his foolish notions. She almost wanted to jeer them…who were they to tell Rocinante what was real and what wasn’t? Whether or not he was a knight – or if he should be a knight? So what if his armor was rusty and his wings weak and his horn broken…or, wait, no, he was a pegasus, not a unicorn. He didn’t have a horn, Fizzlepop reminded herself.
Despite her earlier unfaithfulness, Fizzlepop was fully awake now, at least. She looked down to Trixie, and found her sitting at almost the literal edge of her seat, a wide grin on her face. Clearly the play was meeting her expectations, at least. She was also, Fizzlepop noted with somewhat less enthusiasm, sitting as far to the right of her seat as she could – and Prince, as far to the left of his own seat as possible, so that the two could easily lean towards one another and talk. Or sometimes Prince just leaned in close anyway without having anything to say. There was still a table between the two of them, and it wasn’t like he was burying his muzzle in her mane or anything deserving of reproach…but Fizzlepop did miss a fair bit of the play as she kept her eyes on the two of them.
Eventually, though, Fizzlepop did find her attention drifting back to the stage. An earth pony mare named Dulcinea had been introduced. She was an inn’s serving wench…and a prostitute on the side. Yet to Rocinante she was a fair maiden, unsullied. Dulcinea wanted little to nothing to do with Rocinante…and yet his unwavering kindness and certainty in his knighthood and her own maidenhood began to win her over to the old stallion. Eventually as he stood vigil over his armor, waiting to be knighted by the innkeeper who he believed to be the lord of a castle, Dulcinea came to Rocinante, and they spoke…and Fizzlepop found herself shaking her head slightly. As before, with the prison, everything that was said was familiar, took her back to her first meeting with Shining Armor. None of the words matched up. Not even the intent, exactly, for certainly Shining hadn’t seen a flawless, chaste maiden in Fizzlepop, and Shining had been no old and insane stallion. And yet…
“The world’s a dung heap. We’re the maggots that crawl on it,” Dulcinea/Fizzlepop had said.
“No. Milady knows better in her heart,” responded Rocinante/Shining Armor.
“What’s in my heart will get me halfway to Tartaros. And you, Shining Armor…your head is going to end up a stranger to your neck…”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t know what matters. Open up your eyes. You have everything…” Fizzlepop’s eyes darted up to Shining Armor’s horn, though she quickly looked away. “E…e-everything…”
Fizzlepop had kept her wits about her this time. She remembered her first meeting with Shining Armor, everything she’d said, but she didn’t stop focusing on Trixie, on Prince, on the theater. But nothing untoward was happening, there were no hidden threats or dangers, no lurking assassins, no evil Enchanters like Don Rocinante on the stage sought or feared. Barely a moment had passed since the memory had come upon her. Rocinante was still talking to Dulcinea.
“The mission of each true knight is a duty – neigh, a privilege,” said Don Rocinante to Dulcinea, and the music of the orchestra began to swell…and though Fizzlepop had never heard the song before and it barely even applied to anything about her or her situation, she found herself nevertheless singing along in a low, quiet voice, not even loud enough to be heard by the ponies only a few feet from her…
“To dream the impossible dream
“To fight the unbeatable foe
“To bear with unbearable sorrow
“To run where the brave dare not go…
“To right the unrightable wrong
“To love pure and chaste from afar
“To try when your arms are too weary
“To reach the unreachable star…
“This is my quest
“To follow that star
“No matter how hopeless
“No matter how far…
“To fight for the right
“Without question or pause
“To boldy march into Tartaros
“For a heavenly cause…
“And I know if I'll only be true
“To this glorious quest
“That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
“When I'm laid to my rest…
“And the world will be better for this
“That one pony scorned and strewn with scars
“Still strove with his last ounce of courage
“To reach the unreachable star…!”
It shouldn’t have been this touching. It was a mad old pegasus pony consumed by his own delusions, singing about knightly valor in a world that had lost it. The knowledge that evil brought profit and good none at all shattered his psyche. He should have been shunned, or scorned…or pitied. And yet Fizzlepop found that her desire to shun, to scorn, and to pity was instead directed at almost all the other characters in the play – the ones who saw the world as it was, rather than as it should be....
The ones who would look at a unicorn with a broken horn, trying to move past that injury, and try to shuffle her away and out of sight...
The remainder of the act passed in a blur to Fizzlepop as she wrestled with how much Rocinante’s character was resonating with her, despite that it was her horn, not her mind, that was broken. Rocinante and Dulcinea were set upon by surly ranchers, customers of Dulcinea’s night job who did not like the time she was spending with Rocinante or the effect he was having on her. Yet somehow the old stallion overcame them, and the innkeeper dubbed him Sir Rocinante, Knight of the Woeful Countenance.
The curtains closed then – the intermission. Fizzlepop quickly found Trixie standing on the seat again, looking back at her with wide eyes and a huge grin. “This is the best!” She exclaimed.
Fizzlepop took in a deep breath and let it out, surprised at the slight shudder to it. She still couldn’t help but smile at Trixie. “The fact that you didn’t have to pay for any tickets probably helps,” she noted wryly.
Trixie stuck her tongue out at that as she hopped down from her chair, stretching her legs. Prince joined her on the ground to do likewise. “Restrooms, I think,” he said.
“Oui,” Trixie agreed. Fizzlepop noticed that she’d stopped putting on a Canterlotian accent for Prince’s benefit. “An’ more concessions. Ah’ll pay this time! Ah brought mah own bits.” She produced a money purse from within her seemingly empty hat. Fizzlepop was genuinely curious what else she had managed to store in there. She had been quite serious about being a magician, it seemed.
They unlocked the door to the theater box and made their way outside, Fizzlepop keeping close to Trixie at all times – which admittedly did make using the restrooms somewhat awkward, as Fizzlepop had her own call of nature that needed to be tended to. Fortunately the theater had an employees-only restroom with room for three, which Fizzlepop didn’t have any issue commandeering for Trixie’s use and her own and keeping anypony else out until they were finished…which took a little longer than it should have because Trixie could not stop giggling at the mere sight of a Night Guard in the bathroom, nevermind when she had stepped into a stall and shut the door.
She at least didn’t offer any commentary as the two washed their hooves and then made their way back to the lounge, café, and bar of La Commedia della Luna, meeting back up with Prince, his bodyguards…and his friends.
Fizzlepop managed to keep from faltering as she saw that Prince had picked up an entourage of three colts and fillies at a table he had selected, two earth ponies and a pegasus, all old enough to have cutie marks. All of them wore at least a few pieces of fine clothing tailored to fit them, showing off their wealth given that they would likely grow out of their clothes soon. And most prominently to Fizzlepop, standing very near to all of them were adult ponies wearing armor and bearing livery marking the noble House they owed fealty to.
Nobility, all three of Prince’s new friends. Young mares and stallions, yes, none of them in the Night Court quite yet, but all of them on their way into it, all of them raised to it. All of them having learned from birth to measure carefully each action and to look for ulterior motives in the moves of everypony around them.
“Trixie!” Prince said as Trixie trotted up to the table. He’d kept the seat to his right empty, and as Trixie approached his horn lit up and pulled it out for her. “I met a few acquaintances of mine.”
Trixie paused for just a moment, eyes darting to the pulled-out chair, then to the other ponies – then to Fizzlepop, and the Night Guard could see that even though Trixie was new to Canterlot, she was hardly naïve about how it worked, not after three years of Luna’s tutelage. Prince saving a seat next to him for her was significant.
But Trixie took the seat anyway, and put on a smile as she looked to the other ponies. “I think,” she said, the Canterlot accent having come back, “I’ve met one of you already.”
“Yes,” said a lime-green earth pony, her voice icy, “you have. When you cornered my father and I in the Castle last year.”
Trixie didn’t miss the tone. “I only wanted to know why Baron Rolling hated Lunesiana and what Neigh Orleans had ever done to him to make him vote against – ”
“Alright,” Prince said, holding up a hoof as he looked between the two young mares, “I think that nopony will benefit from this sort of discussion. The Princess knows that I had my own tête-à-tête with Trixie once…but earlier we decided to attempt a fresh start. And surely nopony wants their night ruined?”
Trixie began to open her mouth, but shut it quickly when Fizzlepop cleared her throat softly. The young mare glanced back at her, then to the table. “No, of course not,” she said. “I’ve been looking forward to this play too much.” She looked to the lime-green pony. “Lady Buttercup, I am sorry. I’ll apologize to your father as well at the first opportunity.”
Prince smiled a toothy, sparkling smile once more. “Right!” He said, settling into his chair as he waved a hoof. “Well, introductions are in order then…you know Lady Buttercup Fields. Next to her is Lady Silver Frames, and then this is Lord Ribbon Wishes.”
“Sir Ribbon,” said the young pegasus, ruffling his wings slightly in annoyance. “My mother awarded me the baronetcy of Skyesdale for my birthday.”
“Apologies, Sir Ribbon,” Prince said, “and congratulations, I hadn’t heard.” Sir Ribbon preened a little, and didn’t notice Prince nudging Trixie slightly with one hoof and winking conspiratorially. “Tell me, how is Skyesdale this time of year?”
“Oh, I haven’t been there yet,” Sir Ribbon said before he could think better of it. When he realized, his eyes widened and wings fluttered. “I – I mean, that is, I haven’t been there recently, of course.”
Only Silver Frames was in any way successful at stopping a chuckle at the young stallion’s faux pas, and even then she struggled. The other young ponies were much less reserved. Fizzlepop mostly reminded herself that the baronetcy that the young Sir Ribbon possessed was almost certainly an honorary appointment with him having no actual power or control over the demesne until he came of age. She didn’t like to think of the nobility of Equestria being otherwise so cavalier with their realms and the ponies that inhabited them.
Once the laughter died down, Trixie shifted in her seat. “Mais,” she said, then coughed a little. “That is, I was planning on getting more food for Prince and myself for when the intermission is over. I’ll want to get in line…”
“Oh, there’s no need,” Prince said, waving a hoof. “I had one of my guards go, I had a spare.” He pointed behind him, where indeed one of the two ponies he’d brought with him was missing. If the stallion that remained had any opinion of being called a ‘spare’, he didn’t show it. “More of the same will be alright, won’t it?”
Trixie allowed a slight pout to show through her façade. “But you paid for the first round,” she said. “Fair’s fair, I should pay for everything now. I’m not poor.”
“Oh, of course not,” Silver Frames said. The earth pony had a wry grin. “You live with the Princess! I don’t think anypony at this table thinks you’re hurting for cash.”
Trixie looked to her, eyes narrowing just slightly. “My family in Neigh Orleans ain’t poor either,” she said, her Neigh Orleans accent creeping through.
Silver held up her hooves defensively. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to imply that. I just meant that, well, you’re providing the excellent seating with Sir Prince. The Princess’ own private box! So it’s only fair that he provide the food and drinks for your date.”
Trixie froze at that, her eyes going wide and mouth drifting open. “D…date?” She asked quietly. Fizzlepop couldn’t stop her head tilting to the side somewhat at Trixie’s reaction – had that fact really not occurred to Trixie? – even as a slight tremor went through Trixie. She shook her head, then smiled. “Ah’m – ahem – I’m sorry, I think you’re mistaken, Lady Silver. This isn’t a date.”
“Well,” Prince said, shrugging a little. “It could be.” Trixie turned to look at him, her eyes growing wider somehow. Prince grinned a toothy and sparkling grin again. “I honestly thought it was you asking me out, when you offered to let me join you. The night is still young, and we are enjoying ourselves…”
“Not like that,” Trixie said, a giggle devoid of mirth escaping her lips. She’d lost the Canterlot accent again. “Ah was just tryin’ t’ be friendly an’ apologize for the sandbox. An’ this can’t be a date.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause if this were a date then it’d be mah first date. With anypony…oh, merde. Mah first date ever was with Prince Blueblood.”
Prince scowled. “You don’t have to say it like that.”
Fizzlepop winced. She had not, herself, ever gone on a date or had a special somepony. She had neither the time nor the inclination, and still didn’t. But nor was she by any means heartless, and she could only imagine the sort of turmoil Trixie was going through right now. “Perhaps,” she said out loud, advancing towards the table, throwing decorum aside as she got the attention of all the noble ponies and their guards, “we should head back to our seats early, Trixie.”
“Oui,” Trixie agreed, hopping from her seat at the table, while her eyes remained wide, moving back and forth a little as though she were reading something. Prince got down himself, starting to follow, but when Trixie noticed she spun around, quickly enough that the guard that had followed him stepped forward to get ready to shield him. Trixie paid him no mind. “You’re uninvited.”
“What?”
“From the private box. You’re uninvited.”
Prince’s scowl deepened. “You can’t do that.”
“Non. Ah can an’ Ah am.” Her eyes narrowed. “When you mentioned Don Rocinante last week, it was where Ah could overhear it, oui? An’ then you just happen t’ be waitin’ for me t’ show up so’s you could act all charmin’ an’ stuff an’ get me to ask you out on…on a date.”
Prince scoffed. “I really do want to put the sandbox incident behind us. And it’s hardly an act. I’m being totally sincere when I say that I really did think you had asked me out.”
“Oui. Sure, ‘cause you made sure that Ah would be in a place and time when Ah likely would. But Ah bet you don’t really want t’ date me, not for me. ‘Cause then a bunch a’ nobles are with you here, Ah bet you invited them t’ come too, an’ then they see you showin’ yourself off, that you’re datin’ Trixie Lulamoon, Luna’s apprentice.”
Prince rolled his eyes. “A hurdle anypony who might ask you out will have to get over, are you going to suspect them all of ulterior motives? Trixie, is it really that hard to accept that I might simply have wanted to go out on a date with you?”
“Yes.”
Prince bristled at both the speed and certainty of Trixie’s response. His muzzle scrunched up. “Well that hardly seems fair! What else could I possibly have done?”
“Come right up an’ ask me, ‘Trixie, you wan’ go see Don Rocinante with me?’”
“You’d have said no!”
“Oui. But at least then you woulda’ been honest an’ not stolen mah first date!” Trixie stomped a hoof at that. Around them in the lounge, ponies looked on, or started to. Fizzlepop ran interference as only a Night Guard could, stepping closer to Trixie and locking eyes with anypony who tried to stare.
Trixie held Prince’s gaze a moment more, before turning around and trotting off, Fizzlepop following. Their pace was a brisk one, swiftly carrying them back to the Princess’ private box. “Mais, you’re uninvited. Go t’ your original seat or go with Buttercup or Ribbon or Silver, maybe they wanna date you. Ah don’t care.”
Prince followed Trixie anyway through the currently mostly-empty hall, as did his bodyguard. Fizzlepop and the guard took a moment to look at each other, recognizing that this was getting out of hoof and if things escalated any further they’d probably have to intervene. While training and instinct made her size up the Blueblood bodyguard, and she was reasonably certain she could take him with what her eyes told her, both guards knew that their intervention would take the form of grabbing their respective charges and keeping them separated.
As they reached the door into the private box, Prince spoke up again. “Trixie, if you’d only give me a minute to explain…”
“Non! Go away!”
“But – ”
Fizzlepop had opened the door to the box, wanting to put something solid between Trixie and Prince. She turned around and made to reach for Trixie to pull her inside – but found that the young unicorn’s horn was glowing a bright pinkish-blue as she spun around on Prince.
And then Fizzlepop had no time – and no ability – to register anything else but the sudden appearance of the roaring head of a giant, translucent blue bear, and the stabbing agony that shot down a horn that was no longer there.
Author's Notes:
To be honest it's really difficult to reconcile Tempest Shadow as we know her from the movie as singing "The Impossible Dream", but at the same time anyone who knows the play Man of La Mancha probably saw me drawing a parallel between Fizzlepop and Quixote Rocinante from a mile away, and it does, I feel, match up with her characterization here, a younger mare who's had a different history since her horn broke. With some caveats that will eventually be discussed, of course. Ah, weird courses characters can take in alternate universes...
...speaking of which the full scene of Fizzlepop and Shining Armor's first meeting is typed up and was originally part of this chapter, but I decided I wanted to save it for later.
4. Broken
Author's Notes:
I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that the first five paragraphs or so crib heavily from the opening of comic #68, “Tempest’s Tale Part 2”. There’s a bit of my own writing in there and I did change things, but overall it was just too perfect to not use.
Not long ago, there had been a young unicorn who lost her horn. And when her magic didn’t work the way it used to, she lost her friends. She’d had everything taken from her, lost everything that made her who she was. So she made herself a promise: “Never again”, she’d said.
She had lost her ability to control her own magic, but she’d discovered she had an incredible capacity for endurance. She decided to use that endurance to train what wayward magic remained, and to push her mind and her body to its very limits, and beyond them. Fate had seemed to leave her with only the capacity for destruction, and so she had indulged in it. If she couldn’t find love anymore, then she would instead inspire fear.
It had been a very angry and very lonely existence that had nearly cost her what little she’d had left, until that young unicorn had met another, a unicorn stallion who had everything…and hadn’t hesitated to offer it to the young unicorn. He had cast a light down into the dark pit of misery and loathing that the young unicorn’s life had become, and she had followed it, and him, back out.
She’d worked hard. She’d rebuilt her life. She’d taken a risk and accepted the help of another, and the risk had paid off. She’d become more than a storm of darkness and hate. She made friends. She made a life for herself. She had continued to push on in spite of her crippling injury.
All so that she could end up right back where she started.
Fizzlepop could hear her heart pounding like a hammer in her chest. Cold sweat covered her shaking limbs as her hind hooves tried to push her back against a wall, while her front hooves held on to – to – to something – trying to hide it from all sight. Her right eye was closed, searing agony cutting across it, while her left was wide open. And a horn that wasn’t there anymore somehow managed to send spasms of pain down its phantom length, across her skull, and down a spine that had turned to jelly.
There was no rational part of her mind left right now. There was only her open left eye staring at where the bear, the giant bear’s head, the blue translucent ursine horror had been. Its roar still echoed in her ears. She wanted to run, her four limbs demanded she run, but she was two stories up and trapped in a small box. And so instead she hid in the dark theater as best she could, pressed herself into a corner, pushed the thing she held even more into it, and struggled for breath even as she tried to keep the sound of her breathing as quiet as possible.
It felt like an eternity before Fizzlepop realized the thing she was holding onto was moving, and several more seconds after that before she recognized it as struggling, trying to get out of her grasp. She held on tighter at first, out of instinct, before glancing down. She saw a blue unicorn, not fully a mare but no longer a filly, pushing against her and trying to escape…
Trixie. Fizzlepop let out a gasp, letting go of her, staring dumbly at the other unicorn. Trixie’s eyes were wide in fright. Her horn lit up pinkish-blue, and Fizzlepop was dimly aware of the door to the theater box being closed. There was no bear in the hallway…no bear in the theater, either. Although Fizzlepop could still hear it growling, a rumbling echo through her skull – her ears flicked and head snapped towards every sound, every tiny bit of noise, but none of them were out of place in the theater.
She felt hooves grabbing either side of her helmet and pulling it off. She turned back to Trixie. The young mare was talking, or her lips were moving anyway, but Fizzlepop couldn’t hear it over the sound of her own heart, over the trembling of her limbs, over…
Fizzlepop flinched at the feeling of a hoof smacking her cheek, while Trixie inhaled sharply. “Ow!” the young unicorn exclaimed, staring at her own hoof. “Zut alors! Why did that hurt me?”
Fizzlepop ignored Trixie, shaking her head, trying to get her breathing under control even as she looked around, assessing the situation, trying to force her mind to work. The door to the theater box was closed and locked. Standing on trembling hooves, Fizzlepop found that the theater was still mostly empty, the intermission still on. A few ponies had returned to their seats, or never left them, but none looked to the Princess’ box. They hadn’t noticed the
giant bear looming over Fizzlepop, its paw swiping down at her, blinding pain as her horn snapped and white-hot agony across her face as a claw cut her and she was sent flying and rolling and
Fizzlepop put her hooves to her mouth, stifling a cry of terror. Her hooves trembled fiercely still, her whole body shook. She distantly noted how lucky it was that she’d already used the lavatory…
“Fizzlepop?” Trixie asked, getting in front of her as she fell back onto her haunches, just trying to breathe. “Officer Berrytwist? Are…are you okay?”
The older unicorn looked down to the younger one. One hoof reached out, fumbling for and grabbing her helmet, though she didn’t put it back on yet, instead clutching it tightly to herself. Her mind raced, replaying what had just happened. Trixie and Prince’s fight. Prince following them. Fizzlepop about to drag Trixie into the theater box and lock out Prince, but Trixie had been angry, her horn had glowed, and…
Fizzlepop’s eyes narrowed. A very small part of her remembered Prince’s own bodyguard grabbing his charge and running off in shock. Neither had been privy to Fizzlepop’s reaction. It didn’t make her feel better in the slightest. “You…” she spat, bile in her throat as she threw her helmet aside and stood up. Trixie’s eyes went wide. “That was…you…you did that!”
Trixie fell away from Fizzlepop as she started advancing on still-shaking limbs. “Ah-Ah’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “Ah just wanted…just wanted Prince t’ go away! Ah didn’…Ah didn’ mean…” She’d backed up against the wall of the box herself. “Ah’m sorry!”
Fizzlepop leaned down, getting so close to Trixie that their muzzles almost touched, broken horn sparking, and glared sheer contempt into Trixie’s eyes, her soul. “We’re leaving,” she hissed, then spun around. She found herself readying a hind hoof, sure that Trixie was about to argue or object, so Fizzlepop would raise a hoof as though to buck, scare the little misbehaving reprobate out of her wits, maybe even actually kick…she’d pull up short, of course, but maybe with her shaking she’d misjudge and hit anyway and maybe that wouldn’t be so bad…
But no objections were forthcoming. Fizzlepop glanced back. Trixie was standing still, shuddering herself, eyes wide and full of tears…but she sucked in a deep breath, shook her head, and shifted her hat. “O…oui,” she agreed, trudging forward and past Fizzlepop, towards the door.
Fizzlepop stared at her, taking in a few deep breaths of her own. She wanted to try and hold them, but her lungs wouldn’t let her. “W…wait!” she exclaimed before Trixie could reach up towards the lock. “Wait…I’m sorry, I’m…we don’t have to leave. I just…I need a moment.”
Trixie looked back to her, wiping away her tears. She nodded, but didn’t say anything. Fizzlepop tried to ignore her, the look she was getting from her, as she trotted over to and settled down into the rear-right seat. She closed her eyes, or started to, but images of blue fur and sharp claws and stars lurked behind her eyelids. So instead she picked a point on the floor and stared at it.
Eventually, her ears flicked as she heard movement. Trixie had moved up to the front-right seat, but rather than sitting on it was standing, forelegs resting on its back as she looked to Fizzlepop. “Ah’m sorry,” she said.
“I know.”
Trixie bit her lip. Her eyes danced over Fizzlepop’s still-exposed face, the scar on her eye, her broken horn. She’d put it all together at last, not that it would have taken a genius to do so at this point. “It…it was a bear, wasn’t it?”
Fizzlepop cast her eyes down again, and nodded in confirmation. She was basically right, anyway. The full details of the Ursa Minor didn’t matter. It was ursine. It had broken her and scarred her, and not just her body, as the last few minutes had proven. The worst part was that Trixie hadn’t even conjured up an Ursa Minor…just a bear. It had been blue and translucent because it had been quickly summoned up without much thought put into it. That it looked like an Ursa was nothing but a coincidence…and still it had reduced Fizzlepop to a quivering mess.
“Ah’m sorry,” Trixie repeated. “Ah…Ah just wanted to scare Prince away. So Ah thought a’ somethin’ scary…b-but Ah didn’t mean t’ scare you. Ah didn’ think Ah could. Night Guard, y’know? You don’ really think a’ y’all gettin’ scared, since y’all look scary t’ begin with.”
Fizzlepop nodded, shifting in her seat. She couldn’t get comfortable despite the plushness of the cushion beneath her, probably because of the spasms that still cut through her body, the adrenaline leaving her system only slowly. She took in a shuddering breath and forced herself to hold it for as long as she could, then exhaled it over the course of a full thirty seconds.
“Root beer,” Trixie said, hopping down from the seat.
“What?”
Trixie trotted over to Fizzlepop’s discarded helmet, picking it up and bringing it back over to the older mare. “Ah think we need more root beer floats. We still got a few minutes ‘fore the intermission ends.” She held forward the helmet. “Please?”
Fizzlepop stared at the helmet for a moment, looking at her own reflection in it as she took it into her hooves. She looked awful, her eyes bloodshot, fur matted around her cheeks from where tears had flowed over them, except around her scar where the fur had never quite grown back in right…
But the helmet would hide all of that, and Trixie was right: Fizzlepop desperately needed something sweet and cold and bubbly right now. She slipped it on, for the first time in a long time feeling grateful for the illusion that shimmered over her form. She got up from her seat, taking in another breath and standing up straight. “We are going to ignore Prince, and everypony else,” she insisted.
Trixie started to agree, but then frowned as she looked down to herself. “If’n he starts somethin’…Ah know me. What Ah’m like.” Fizzlepop started to try and put together some argument to get the young mare to behave, but Trixie shook her head. She took off her cape and hat, retrieved her money purse, then threw her clothes onto the nearby seat. She passed the money purse to Fizzlepop, her horn glowed pink-blue…and she suddenly disappeared. Fizzlepop’s eyes widened, but before she could do anything Trixie’s voice spoke up. “Ah’m invisible,” she said. Fizzlepop felt a hoof on her withers, though she didn’t see anything.
The Night Guard considered, as she tucked Trixie’s money purse into her armor. “I can’t do a good job protecting you if I can’t see you,” she noted, but shook her head as she got down onto her knees and hocks. “But if it will keep you away from Prince, fine. Climb on my back, I’ll carry you.”
Fizzlepop almost expected an argument; instead, she heard a slight giggle, and felt Trixie’s weight settle across her back, the filly’s forehooves squeezing against her shoulders. Tired and hurting as she was, she was still strong, at least for a unicorn. She could certainly make it to the concessions area and back, anyway.
Moving helped with her adrenaline, at least, gave her muscles something to do besides spasm and shake. Trixie opened the door with her telekinesis, and the two slipped out. “This is mah own custom invisibility spell,” Trixie provided as Fizzlepop trotted, and she could hear the pride in Trixie’s voice. “See, normally, invisibility spells just bend light ‘round the pony. But that creates a blur if’n you look real close. So’s I figured out a way t’ get light t’ pass through me – ”
“There isn’t much point in being invisible if you’re going to talk,” Fizzlepop admonished. Trixie fell silent at that, and Fizzlepop thought she heard her pouting. She turned her head slightly to glance over her shoulder. She saw only empty air, but she imagined Trixie would meet her eye. “Just following the Princess’ orders,” she noted.
She felt Trixie perk up at that, her tail wishing and accidentally brushing against her own. “Oh, oui,” the filly whispered. “To help mah magic…right, Ah’ll be quiet once we get down t’ concessions. Oh, but Ah’ll do magic for you.” Fizzlepop saw a glow appear over her illusory horn, and a nearby potted plant was wrapped momentarily in turquoise magic that matched Fizzlepop’s eye color.
Fizzlepop stopped in her tracks, staring at the illusion of her own magic being back. The magic suddenly cut out as Trixie gasped. “M-mo chagren! Ah didn’ think, it’s just that Ah’m on your back so’s you can’t balance a tray there…”
Fizzlepop was still only a moment more, before shaking her head and continuing her trot. “No. You’re right, it makes sense.”
She hurried her pace so that Trixie didn’t have any more time to respond, though she couldn’t keep her head from hanging just a bit. Illusion magic, she decided, was cruel. Between the glamor that made her look like she had a horn and Trixie just now giving her a glimpse of something she’d never really be able to do again, not with any kind of control…
But Trixie had meant well. Fizzlepop struggled to remember that as they returned to the concessions, making their way over to the bar. By now ponies were starting to file back into the theater, but they cleared a path for the Night Guard easily enough. Three ponies that hadn’t yet moved, however, were the three young nobles Prince had picked up – and Fizzlepop would have to move past their table to get to the soda bar. Fizzlepop held her breath. Being seen was inevitable, but hopefully she wouldn’t be spoken to, and she was ultimately just a guard and so meant to be ignored…
…and for the first time today, something went her way. The nobles looked to her, but saw that Trixie wasn’t in tow and so promptly ignored her presence. She let out her held breath, tuning out the nobles’ conversation as she waited in line for root beer. In spite of everything, she couldn’t stop herself from licking her lips a little, a sensation of bubbles already tickling her throat. The phantom feeling was actually a welcome one for a change, and for just a moment she was thinking about things other than bears and her horn and her inadequacy.
Of course, no sooner had she paid for the floats then she noticed that Trixie was gripping her unusually tightly. Her eyes widened when she thought she heard Trixie quietly retching. She went to get Trixie off her back, but Trixie’s grip tightened further. “Ah’m fine,” she whispered in Fizzlepop’s ear. “Just…hurry up, tanpri. Ah don’ want to be out here no more.”
Fizzlepop turned back to the soda jerk, about to ask him to step it up, but even as she did the two root beer floats appeared before her. Her illusory horn started glowing and a matching aura wrapped around both of them, lifting them up. Fizzlepop set off immediately, mind whirling. Was Trixie using too much magic – overchanneling? She was a prodigy in her own way, but still young. She had her magical limits just like anypony else, and crossing them would be as dangerous for her as any unicorn. But the auras around the root beers seemed to be strong and steady. Maybe she was just physically ill? Hot sauce in floats and mustard on peanuts would surely unsettle any stomach…
Fizzlepop managed to stop herself from outright galloping back to the private box and slipping inside. As soon as they were inside, Trixie slid from her back, reappearing in a cloud of pinkish-blue smoke as the auras around the floats took up the same coloration.
Trixie set them down on one of the tables before Fizzlepop could say anything, trotted over to the closest seat, stuck her head into its pillow, and screamed. The Night Guard was beside her in an instant, taking off her helmet and putting a hoof on the young mare’s back. “Trixie?” She asked. “What’s wrong?”
Trixie finished her muffled scream, and looked back up. She did look a little exhausted from maintaining the invisibility spell, the glamor of a glow around Fizzlepop’s horn, and changing the color of her telekinesis. But Fizzlepop hadn’t been expecting to also find anger. “Nothin’. Ah was listenin’ to Buttercup an’ Silver an’ Ribbon while we was waitin’, is all. You weren’t?” Fizzlepop shook her head, and Trixie groaned, rubbing her eyes with her hooves. “They was talkin’ ‘bout how Prince left. Seemed t’ think that Ah must have a bunch a’ Night Guards in the shadows an’ scared him off. An’ they was debatin’ whether or not he deserved it. See, ‘cause Ah was the stupid pony who didn’t even know Ah’d asked him out on a date.” Trixie sank to the floor, hooves on her head. “They’re right. It wasn’t exactly some big scheme Ah fell for. Ah was just stupid.”
Fizzlepop decided to keep the fact that she somewhat agreed that Trixie really should have known what she was doing to herself. She found herself reaching out a hoof, putting it on Trixie’s withers. “It’s…a lesson,” she said. “Learn from it.”
“Oui. Ah know.”
“I’m not going to say that it isn’t important to meet other ponies’ standards, sometimes. But what’s more important is meeting your own. Don’t forget that.”
“Ah won’t. Oh, but it gets better, see, ‘cause they was also talkin’ ‘bout the fact that now both me an’ Prince are single.” Trixie shivered. “An’ the Grand Gallopin’ Gala is commin’ up, so’s they were tryin’ t’ figure out if any a’ them should ask one a’ us out, an’ then Silver brought up maybe the after-party somethin’ might happen, an’…” she shivered again, then retched, hooves at her mouth. “Ugh.”
“Not into mares?” Fizzlepop asked.
“Not into ponies,” Trixie corrected. “Not like that, anyway…ugh.”
Fizzlepop suppressed a chuckle, retrieving her helmet and slipping it back on. Well, if their conversation had turned to such matters, at least it meant that for all the pretention of the three nobles, they were still teenagers. It was a comforting thought, in a strange way. “I’m guessing you haven’t ever gone into heat yet. You’ll probably change your tune soon enough.”
“Jamais! Not for anythin’.”
Fizzlepop had her doubts, but didn’t voice them. At least Trixie wasn’t ill from the food she ate, or on the verge of an overchannel coma. She retrieved the two floats, putting one before Trixie. “Thanks for the soda,” she said, also returning Trixie’s money purse.
Trixie looked her float over. “No hot sauce...” she moaned, but shook her head. “Mais, Ah guess Ah can have a borin’ drink.”
“There’s five different kinds of berries!” Fizzlepop objected before she could stop herself. She was pretty sure she felt a small prick of pain from her cutie mark.
Trixie smiled up at her, sticking out her tongue as she retrieved her hat and cape, put them back on, and took up her float. “An’ no hot sauce. A little bit a’ everythin’ makes a better soup!”
“These aren’t soups.”
“Oui. But the principle’s the same.” Trixie sat back down on the front-center seat, root beer float in hoof. “Maybe Ah get you t’ try sauce in your own float some day.”
Fizzlepop took a moment to lock the door to the box, then took her own seat to Trixie’s right. “Maybe,” she allowed. The lights were starting to dim and the orchestra ponies were finishing their warm-ups. It wouldn’t be long before the play resumed. As the darkness closed around her, Fizzlepop thought she heard a growl...but she closed her eyes and folded her ears, recognizing that the growl was just in her mind, a wraith left over from Trixie’s illusion. She took a long drink from her root beer float, focusing on that, on the tingles of the soda mixing with the sweetness of the berries.
“Fizzlepop?” Trixie asked.
“Yeah?”
“Ah know Ah shouldn’t have...done what Ah did. But when Ah did make...what Ah made...” Fizzlepop opened her eyes and glanced over, and saw Trixie twirling her hooves around each other awkwardly. “Mais, Ah heard a little a’ what you an’ Captain Armet were talkin’ ‘bout. And when you saw mah illusion...yeah, you was scared. But you grabbed me an’ tried t’ protect me from it all the same, even though you thought it was real. You really are a good bodyguard.”
Fizzlepop considered. She hadn’t known how much of the conversation Trixie had overhead...that was the problem with letting a pony talented in illusions wander around Canterlot Castle. Frankly it was an absurd security risk, mitigated largely only by the fact that Trixie would find most meetings boring and the Princess’ own divination talents. But from the sound of things, Trixie had heard enough of Fizzlepop’s review to form an opinion on it. “My dedication was never being questioned,” she said, looking down at her float. “My ability was.”
“Oui. But Ah just wanted t’ remind you.” Trixie looked at her own float. “That’s why Ah asked for you. Normally it’s more fun t’ torment Shining Armor.” Her frank admission of that would have surprised Fizzlepop had she not spent hours with the young mare. “But you needed somepony t’ say you looked tough.”
Fizzlepop scoffed. “So, what, this whole thing was for my benefit?”
“Non, Ah wanted t’ see the play, an’ see your face and guess what happened t’ you ‘cause Ah was curious, an’ everythin’ else. But if’n you got helped too, that’s good, oui? It was a spur a’ the moment thing. Didn’t even really think ‘bout it.” She looked back to Fizzlepop. “Like you when you protected me.”
Fizzlepop contemplated Trixie’s words in silence for several long moments. Finally, just before the orchestra swelled again, she looked back to Trixie. “Thank you.”
Trixie smiled back. It wasn’t like any other smile she’d had that night — it was smaller, but a lot more honest. “Il y a pas de quoi.” she remembered herself after a moment, and added, “you’re welcome.”
Fizzlepop has once heard a visiting griffin dignitary complain that pony plays tended to put the intermissions in the wrong spot — usually, at a high point of triumph rather than a low point of despair. He’d theorized that it was due to the saccharine nature of pony literature, and the suspicion that if a play placed its halfway point at a dark moment, ponies would demand refunds, or bury themselves in a hole.
He’d then had to explain that last phrase as the griffin equivalent of “throw themselves from the roof”, a largely empty gesture for a race that was entirely winged. Somepony had pointed out that the griffins hurling themselves from roofs might not spread their wings so she didn’t see why the phrase needed to be different. The griffin had retorted that of course there was no need, but that wasn’t the point, the point was for most griffins not spreading their wings after leaping off a roof was simply not an intuitive thought, and also that didn’t have anything to do with pony plays being poorly paced. A pegasus had commented that his sister had once forgotten to flap when she was younger, although fortunately she’d landed in a bush and been unhurt. The griffin, exasperated, called everypony present as cultured as a bird from Nekulturniberg. Nopony had known what that was, and asked after it.
Fizzlepop has learned that day that she could take a griffin ambassador in a fight, which given their militaristic culture was actually fairly impressive. The same culture had nearly seen her married to the bird since she had been off-duty at the time (which Fizzlepop was still fuzzy on the significance of). All in all, it had been an eventful first week in the Guard.
In any event, the trade-off was that the second half of pony plays tended to have things go downhill fast. Don Rocinante was no exception in this regard. As Fizzlepop watched, the hoodlums that Rocinante had defeated came to while he was away. He had convinced the jaded tavern wench and prostitute Dulcinea that they were to be cared for; as defeated enemies, they deserved honor and respect, and though it went against her better judgement, Rocinante’s way of viewing the world was getting through to Dulcinea.
But the defeated ponies had neither honor nor respect. They had woken up, taken stock of the situation, seen that Rocinante had left the inn that he believed to be a castle, and so turned on Dulcinea - beat her, and if Fizzlepop was interpreting correctly the artistic flourishes of the “Little Bird” song they sang and the violent way they lay her on a table and surrounded her, did worse as well. Dulcinea survived, at least, but Fizzlepop found herself shifting uncomfortably and clutching her root beer float tighter. When she had been alone, after the Ursa but before Shining Armor...she’d never suffered an assault like this, but close calls had happened before she’d learned to defend herself, that her horn’s uncontrollable magic could be weaponized and turned against those who tried to hurt her. Which as far as she had been concerned at the time, was everypony.
Don Rocinante, meanwhile, had left the inn/castle, and contemplated his new knighthood, unaware of what had happened to Dulcinea. He encountered a small herd of wandering donkeys, who took him in and gave him succor while on the road...and took advantage of his delusions to make off with his armor, his weapon, and all his possessions, leaving Rocinante a naked and frail old pegasus. He had no choice but to turn around and return to the inn.
And it was there that everything truly fell apart. Dulcinea returned as well, bruised and ashamed, and though Rocinante swore to avenge her she instead threw her true history and nature into his face, blamed him for her misery for letting her glimpse a life she could never have. She demanded Rocinante see her as the wench and prostitute that she really was. Rocinante, however, still in his madness could see only a fair maiden.
Before anything else could be said, another knight entered - the Knight of the Mirrors, or so he claimed, a form of the Enchanter that Rocinante swore was his greatest enemy. He insulted Dulcinea and Rocinante challenged him to a duel. The Knight and his retainers accepted, and fought Rocinante with brightly mirrored shields, the glare blinded Rocinante, and the Enchanter hurled insults at Rocinante, used the mirrors to force him to see himself as the world saw him, a tired old pony, bereft of sanity, something to be pitied and scorned.
Rocinante collapsed, weeping. The Knight of the Mirrors revealed himself to actually be a doctor that had shown up intermittently throughout he play, trying to cure Rocinante of his madness and bring him back to his family. A noble goal, maybe. But impossibly, Fizzlepop found herself hating the doctor more than she did any other character in the play — more than the donkeys, more than the ponies who had assaulted Dulcinea. The doctor’s shattering of Rocinante’s delusion was heart-wrenching, a theft of pure innocence and simple naïveté. Fizzlepop felt pain running down her shattered horn and knew exactly what Rocinante was going through.
She closed her eyes as she heard the play progressed from there — Rocinante was back in his country estate, viewing everything he had done as a knight as merely a dream, dying of old age now, calling for a lawyer to comprise his will. It was all so...so mundane, boring, banal.
She wondered if that would be the life she would be taking up, after tonight. When she was transferred back to the Army, or wherever she ended up. Not that there was much practical difference between the Night Guard and the Army; either way, she’d be protecting ponies, serving her country. The prestige was irrelevant; she hadn’t been looking for it, she’d only wanted to rebuild her life. To live up to the standard that Shining Armor has set for her, the pony he’d seen that she could be...
Fizzlepop suppressed a grim chuckle. Like how Rocinante had seen a fair maiden in the whore Dulcinea. She didn’t get how her mind kept alternating between seeing herself as both Rocinante and Dulcinea...her psyche identified with both of them. Dulcinea was what she had been; Rocinante, what she was now. A mad pony who’d dreamed an impossible dream and was now finally coming to her senses.
Fizzlepop glanced at Trixie...and was surprised to see that the young mare was smiling. How did that make sense? The play had taken such a grim, stark turn, punishing the audience for believing in Don Rocinante. What was there to smile about?
Trixie noticed her look, and her grin widened. She pointed down to the stage just as Dulcinea suddenly reappeared, pushing her way past Rocinante’s mundane little family that had stolen his happiness. She was in tears...and apologizing to him for what she’d said. How she’d played a part in shattering the old pegasus’ delusion. How she could no longer stand to look at herself as a tavern wench and prostitute, how she wanted to be the fair maiden that Don Rocinante had seen.
Rocinante resisted at first, not recognizing her but thanking her for coming to see an old stallion on his deathbed. But then she started singing “The Impossible Dream”. Slowly, softly, meekly at first, but with her voice growing stronger and more determined even as Rocinante’s family tried to drag her off...
...and by the time she was reaching the final verses she wasn’t singing alone anymore. Don Rocinante has risen from his bed, hobbling at first, but soon all his old energy returned to him. He was the Knight of the Woeful Countenance once again.
“I am Don Rocinante, Hero of Equestria, my destiny calls and I go —
“And the wild winds of Fortune shall carry me onwards, O withersoever they blow!”
Fizzlepop felt tears in her eyes and her breath catching in her throat at the sight. It didn’t matter that Don Rocinante’s return was sadly brief — that his mortality had been real, that he didn’t make it through the reprise of his song. Before the second chorus was even done, his heart gave out. He passed on, but not before calling Dulcinea his lady fair one more time. Not before Dulcinea at last saw not only herself, but the whole world as he did. It was better his way. And all the others in the play, his family members, found themselves forced to admit the same thing.
He died as himself, or the best version of himself, or...or something. Fizzlepop wasn’t sure exactly how to phrase it. She just knew that she was happy. When the curtains closed and the final reprise of “The Impossible Dream” ended, the ponies in the theater started stomping their hooves and cheering loudly.
None more so than Trixie. The filly got up from her seat so that she could use all four hooves to stomp, almost prancing in place even as she fairly screamed her approval at a pitch that only young mares could match. It quickly tired her out, but she still vibrated with excitement. After several minutes, she turned to Fizzlepop, coming right up to her seat and looking at her pointedly. “Mais?” She asked. “What’d you think? Très bien, oui?”
“Oui,” Fizzlepop returned, trying the word out. Trixie giggled at it. “I think...I think I see why you wanted me to see it.”
“Ah wanted t’ see it.” Her smile widened. “An’ they even fixed it!”
Fizzlepop’s head tilted at that. “Fixed it?” She asked.
“Oui, sorta’...” Trixie took a few moments to think. “In the book, Dulcinea ain’t actually in it. She’s mentioned but she don’t appear. When she did in this Ah knew it’d been fixed. Oh, an’ at the end...” she let out a long sigh. “Rocinante, he stays sane. He actually includes in his will that if his daughter marries a pony who reads ‘bout chivalry, she’s t’ be disinherited.”
Fizzlepop’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Oui. But Ah ain’t never met nopony who liked that endin’. Princess Luna told me that when she first read the book back when it was first published, she nearly flew down to the author’s house an’ demanded he explain himself.” Trixie shook her head. “It was basically just a bunch a’ jokes ‘bout an’ old mad pony t’ the author, an’ so he thought him goin’ sane again at the end was good. But everypony else always read somethin’ different from it. That the world can be wrong an’ one pony can be right.”
Fizzlepop wasn’t an artist or critic and didn’t feel qualified to really judge a book she’d never read. But as she stood and stretched, she thought about how she’d felt when Rocinante had lain on his deathbed. The banality of what had looked like his end. She didn’t think she’d be very happy if the play had ended there.
Especially not given what such an ending would have meant for her, personally. “I think I agree,” she said. “Not sure if I want to read the book now...”
Trixie’s eyes widened. “Non! it’s still great! Just not the very end. But Ah even wrote a story based on it where Rocinante picks up a squire named Presto an’ they slay a dragon!”
Fizzlepop couldn’t stop herself from laughing as the two stepped up to the theater box’s door. “Presto, huh?” She asked as she opened it. “Blue unicorn, wears a purple cape and hat?”
“Oui!” Trixie said without thinking, then blushed. “Um...Ah mean...zut.”