Chapter Eleven

The Cost of Silence

The day before the party dawned under monotonous banks of pale-grey clouds. The previous evening had been spattered with rain, which had turned to black ice in the chill of the night, leaving the countryside tracks around Ponyville quite treacherous underhoof.

With a snort of surprise, Trixie struggled to stay upright, her stomach lurching horribly as she almost fell on her rump for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning. She had barely been walking for ten minutes, before resolving to leave the path as soon as possible, and instead make her way through the trackless fields. Snow, at least, afforded some measure of grip, and the boots that she had borrowed were sturdy and well up to the task.

She straightened her hat, looking around embarrassedly. Fortunately, nopony was around to witness her ungainly progress.

Fluttershy had naturally been reluctant to let her go out on her own, particularly in such unpleasant conditions. Yet, with a little persuasion, Trixie had overridden the timid, protective mare. For one thing, Trixie felt honour-bound to allow her host a morning alone, to pursue her own activities and not need to worry about keeping her guest comfortable.

The unicorn’s strength had dramatically improved, but even so, Fluttershy insisted upon making the remainder of Trixie’s convalescence as smooth and pleasant as possible. Yet, somehow, to call it mollycoddling seemed uncharitable. The pegasus did not want to wrap her up in cotton wool and keep her away from the world; the truth was that Fluttershy simply wanted to care for her.

Her care was not exhaustive however, and seemed to be built more around small things, rather than grand gestures. For instance, she would ensure that the kitchen always contained a few vases of tulips; one of Trixie’s favourite idle snacks.

Occasionally, Fluttershy would take the time to introduce the unicorn to a friendly bird or mouse, and gradually, Trixie grew to be far more comfortable with the veritable menagerie that lived in and around the house. Even Angel had made a tentative peace with her, although his protective gaze made it quite clear that his approval was not yet won and that she was still walking on eggshells.

Most importantly, Fluttershy recognized Trixie’s need to not feel parasitic. The unicorn had always been a proudly independent mare, and the idea of accepting another’s care whilst offering nothing in return was unbearable to her. As such, Fluttershy ensured that the mare had ample opportunities to reciprocate her little acts of kindness; it had formed into a pleasant symbiosis.

The previous night, for instance, Fluttershy had blushingly allowed Trixie to brush her mane for her, after the unicorn had discovered her struggling in front of the dressing table’s mirror. It was a task which, without a horn, the pegasus found awkward and time-consuming to achieve alone. They had curled up together on the sofa, and Trixie had diligently worked out every knot and twist in the carnation cascade.

Fluttershy had grown quiet and shivery as Trixie had applied herself to the work, breath blooming across the back of the primrose pegasus’s neck. More than once, the unicorn had caught herself wondering just what would happen if she were to let the brush fall, and instead wrap her forelegs around her friend’s midriff, simply to see where the gesture might lead.

The atmosphere had felt somehow volatile, as if waiting for somepony to strike a spark into life. Yet, Trixie had to concede that she may have simply been detecting the tension of Fluttershy’s awkwardness at their proximity; she knew from experience that her imagination was not entirely trustworthy.

Still, she could have sworn that the primrose mare’s wings had been unusually twitchy.

She shook her head with a snort, trotting off across one of the many fields that made up the valley’s snowy patchwork. This was the very reason she had come out alone today. She was bound for the hilltop to which Fluttershy had taken her almost a week ago.

Above all, Trixie needed to think; tomorrow, she would meet the ponies whom she had wronged in the past. She would come face-to-face with Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Rarity… Twilight Sparkle. More than fear, the thought filled her with an odd invigoration; it was time for her to move on. She would not simply be apologizing to these ponies; she would be apologizing to herself. After all, out of all the ponies she had insulted or hurt or humiliated, Trixie was the one who had sustained by far the most damage from her own actions.

Fluttershy, naturally, had offered to come with her, but Trixie had insisted that the pegasus remain at the cottage, and have some time to herself. Of course, the unicorn did not share the true reasoning behind her sought solitude. Trixie knew that she would find no calm reflection whilst in the pegasus’s company. Even in perfect silence, she found Fluttershy’s presence deeply distracting.

On an impulse, she reached into her saddlebags with a tendril of magic, searching for the bottle of water she had brought along for the journey. The unicorn had prepared thoroughly, packing the lilac saddlebags she had borrowed with water, sandwiches, and a couple of Twilight Sparkle’s experimental warmth-spheres. The hilltop would be bitterly cold today, and without the heat afforded by the glass orbs, the trip would be quite useless.

However, the exploratory tendril of magic encountered not a bottle, but the sharp corner of what felt like a hardback book. Absent-mindedly glancing down at the open saddlebag, Trixie’s eyes widened a little. It did not contain provisions; instead, it held a hoof-mirror, a small purse of bits, and a book entitled ‘From Hares to Harlequins; the Lapine Enthusiast’s Essential Handbook’, along with a few other eclectic items.

In confusion, Trixie dropped the lid of the saddlebag shut, as if expecting its contents to be more agreeable when it was re-opened. Then, with an unpleasant sinking feeling in her stomach, she noticed that the bags were constructed of a pale green canvas, quite unlike the pale purple velvet of the ones she had packed that morning.

The unicorn groaned in annoyance, and struck herself over the head with a forehoof. “I’m an idiot,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes. Somehow, through some infuriating moment of absent-mindedness, she had managed to pick up Fluttershy’s saddlebags from the coffee table, instead of her own. However, Fluttershy’s cottage was already out of sight amongst the hills behind her, visible only by the column of smoke rising up from the chimney.

If she doubled back now, it would be at least a ten minute walk, but she knew it was one she would have to make. The hilltop’s charm lay in its serenity, but she could hardly hope to relax if she were forced to lie in the freezing snow.

It could be worse, she told herself. At least Fluttershy was not planning on leaving the house that day, and she had discovered her error now, rather than when she was marooned on the freezing hilltop.

Even so, it was hardly a perfect start to the day. With a sigh, and a small shake of the head, the unicorn turned and headed back towards the cottage.

The cottage door swung ajar with a quiet squeak, and Trixie stepped into the warmth with a miniscule huff of annoyance, magically hanging up her hat on the stand by the door.

She opened her mouth to call out a greeting to Fluttershy, but caught sight of Angel snoozing on the arm of one of the living-room chairs, and thought better of it. The rabbit could at least tolerate her presence at this point, but a rude awakening could easily reignite his hostility.

As quietly as she was able, Trixie crept across the room, looking around. She rolled her eyes irritably as she caught sight of her lilac saddlebags lying forgotten on the coffee table, and swept them magically up with a shake of the head. Exchanging them for her own, she placed the green bags back carefully onto the table, so as not to wake the gently snoring Angel.

Trixie momentarily considered finding Fluttershy to jokingly bemoan her own absent-mindedness, but decided against it. She was already behind on time, and it was not a particularly interesting story to tell. Then, as she had almost reached the front door, there came a thump from upstairs, followed by what sounded like a low groan.

The unicorn halted, a little concernedly, wondering if Fluttershy was alright. The thud had sounded like a heavy object falling to the floor, and the noise that had followed had sounded almost pained.

Releasing the door-handle from her magical grip, she turned and began to climb the staircase. The unicorn knew that it was likely nothing, but she could not bring herself to leave without checking. Perhaps it was the mare’s timidity, but she felt an overwhelming protectiveness towards Fluttershy. One that seemed quite distinct from the more private attraction she felt for the pegasus.

As she reached the top few steps, her hooves silent against the carpet, she noticed that the air felt a little muggy, heavy with the unmistakable half-smell of hot water. Fluttershy had obviously taken a shower in her absence, but as she glanced to her left into the bathroom, Trixie saw that although the windows were steamed up and the shower-head was dripping monotonously, the room was now unoccupied.

She opened her mouth to call out a tentative greeting, but was cut off by another muffled, drawn-out groan from ahead of her, making her jump a little. She turned her head back to meet the source of the sound.

Stifling a gasp with difficulty, she froze, feeling a sudden, cringing horror as she realized what she had walked in on. The blood rushed to her face so suddenly that she could feel it hammering in her ears.

Fluttershy was lying on her back in the middle of the expansive bed, clad in a fluffy bathrobe that had come partially untied, half-hanging off her heaving shoulders. Her teeth were clamped around the fetlocks of one foreleg to muffle the sounds rising irrepressibly from her throat, her eyes closed and cheeks glowing warmly. Her other forehoof was buried deeply between her thighs, moving in slow, luxurious circles.

Trixie was rooted to the spot, pleading with herself for the strength to shift her gaze away from this most private of scenes, but so frozen with shock that she was unable to so much as blink. The pegasus let out a fresh moan, her hips moving in time to the rhythm of her hoof, and Trixie felt the fire in her cheeks rise with equal vigour between her haunches. The unmistakable sharp scent of an excited mare was hovering in the air, wafting from the bedroom and hazing her mind.

A thousand different thoughts cascaded through the unicorn’s head, but one stood out above the others: I need to go. Now. She could not be found standing here; if Fluttershy opened her eyes, she would never be able to look Trixie in the face again. Worse, she might think that the sapphire mare was deliberately spying on her in so compromising a situation. Either way, she could never speak of this. Fluttershy could never, ever know.

The pegasus had released her foreleg from between her teeth, and was now chewing on her lower lip so hard that it must have been painful, as she settled into a steady, insistent rhythm. Her mane, still a little damp from the shower, was splayed out in a halo around her head, and she was curling a few carnation locks almost unconsciously around her free forehoof. Every breath was rising as an urgent moan from her throat, each one a little higher-pitched than the last.

Shock, arousal and sheer embarrassment dueled in Trixie’s head, but an instant later, respect for her friend’s privacy won, and she tore her gaze away. Shaking her head, she turned back towards the staircase, moving as silently as possible, but also as quickly as she dared. She knew that until she was halfway down the stairs, she would not be out of Fluttershy’s field of view, and she could not count on the mare to keep her eyes closed indefinitely.

Of course, whilst she could look away, she could not block her ears. As she slunk back towards the stairs, she heard the pegasus give a sharp, delighted little gasp, as if taken pleasurably aback by the audacity of her exploration. The sound transitioned smoothly into a low moan, and Trixie winced, face burning with shame, as the unwilling heat in her own marehood redoubled.

She did not want to take pleasure from this; she was determined to not take advantage of this intrusion into her friend’s privacy. As she reached the topmost step, however, her determination was belied by the cool droplet of moisture she felt trickling treacherously into the fur of her hind leg. She cursed her lack of control, hating the way her body was making an unwilling voyeur out of her.

Somehow, more than the sight itself, she was struck by the realization that pure, innocent Fluttershy felt the same carnal urges as everypony else. Of course, she had known all along that Fluttershy was just a pony, with a pony’s needs, and yet… this was something she would never have expected. To be confronted with the sight of her timid friend pleasuring herself with such carefree abandon was something she found disconcerting, and shamefully, intensely arousing.

Get a grip, she told herself, sharply. She had descended the first few steps of the staircase, still moving as stealthily as hooves would allow, but then she heard something that made her freeze.

“Mmm… Trixie…” Fluttershy’s voice drifted after her, sounding oddly low and husky.

The unicorn froze at the sound of her own name, blood resurgent in her cheeks, convinced that she had been spotted. Her heart began to hammer in her throat. She braced herself to bear the brunt of Fluttershy’s anger and mortification, but no shout, sob, or scramble for privacy came.

Tentatively, Trixie turned her head, praying that Fluttershy would believe that she had happened upon the scene by mistake. However, as her resigned gaze fell back into the bedroom, she saw to her surprise that the pegasus’s eyes were still closed. She was lying on her back, wings splayed haphazardly over the edges of the bed, looking every inch the awkward angel. She had withdrawn the hoof from her flushed lower lips, obviously taking her time.

One foreleg was sweeping with long, gentle strokes across her lower belly, the other tracing the butterflies on her flank, and she let out her breath in a ragged huff at the self-inflicted frustration. “Oh…” she murmured, breathily. “Don’t tease, Trixie… please.” The last word came out as a hungry little whine.

The unicorn on the stairs was rooted to the spot. The components of her brain seemed to have fused together.

“I… I love- aah!” Fluttershy’s words broke off into a squeal as she relented, letting her hoof fall to press up against the centre of her pleasure again. She pulled her thighs together, trapping the hoof in place, preventing it from abandoning its sensual duties. “That’s… that’s right…” her voice sounded quite unlike its usual timid squeak; it was warm and languid, positively dripping with satisfaction. “Oh, that’s perfect…”

Her hind leg was twitching reflexively, kicking down against the mattress. A hardback book lay where it had fallen on the floorboards beside the bed, and somewhere in Trixie’s numb brain, she realized that it must have created the thud that she had heard downstairs. Beside the pegasus, on the bed, lay an abandoned hairbrush, and in an instant, the unicorn could guess what must have triggered this sudden desire in the timid mare.

“Why… why do you have to make me f-feel like this?” sighed the pegasus, the last word trailing off into a sibilant hiss of pleasure, tainted by some deep-rooted frustration. “It’s just not fair…” She rolled over onto her stomach, her hind legs becoming tangled up in the duvet, tail flipping rapidly from side to side. She must have bitten down on the pillow, because her next moans were muffled, and if she tried to form any words, they were lost to Trixie’s ears.

The unicorn turned, and stumbled down the staircase, trusting the thick carpet to silence her movements.

Jamming her hat magically back onto her head, she was out of the house before she knew where her hooves were carrying her, the front door closing with a miniscule click behind her. As she stepped outside, the sudden cold clawed at her, but she ignored it, and all but galloped away in the direction of the hills.

Her mind was churning; her stomach heavy with shame at having intruded so thoroughly on her friend’s private feelings. And yet, try as she might, she could not repress a rising feeling in her chest that could be nothing other than delight.

I… I love… The gasped half-sentence resonated in her mind, and it felt as if her trademark pyrotechnics were putting on a stunning show inside her chest. More than anything, she wanted to hear that sentence finished.

Although, she did have to admit that if she had imagined such a confession, the circumstances would have been somewhat different. She would have liked to envisage a shy, private admission in a secluded and beautiful place. It felt somehow wrong to know how Fluttershy felt, because the knowledge had been gleaned in such an underhand, unintentional manner.

Naturally, she could not repress a deep-rooted sense of joy that her feelings were reciprocated, but theirs had been a subtle and intricate dance. For fate to interrupt it in such a brutal way seemed almost cruel, and now she was left with a single question.

What am I going to do about this?

She slowed her pace, but walked on, still heading for their secluded hilltop. Now, more than ever, she needed to think.

Fluttershy lay on her back, flushed and panting a little, basking in the afterglow. She made no attempt to disentangle herself from the sheets, instead letting a warm little shudder pass through her curled form, savouring the last trickles of ebbing pleasure.

She realized that the morning’s activities had left her with a certain amount of laundry to be done; she would have to take another shower, and perhaps light a few scented candles before Trixie’s return, but in that moment it was utterly worth it. The tension and frustration that had reached boiling point in the pit of her stomach had alleviated a little. They were still present, but for the moment were satiated.

For a few long seconds, she reclined with a small smile playing around her lips. It was not as if she had never engaged in such pastimes before, but they had never felt quite so satisfying prior to now. Her first, confused forays into adolescence seemed a lifetime ago, back when she had no distinct object upon which her fermenting desires could settle.

Idly, Fluttershy picked up the hairbrush that she had been running through her mane, before all of those badly-suppressed needs had refused to be ignored any longer. She knew all too well what had caused her resistance to crumble. She shivered a little at the memory of Trixie running the brush smoothly through her mane, the magical field tingling against her scalp, and the unicorn’s breath hot against her neck.

More than their proximity, she had been affected by the care and diligence with which the unicorn looked after her. Trixie had worked out every knot and twist with deft, gentle motions, and Fluttershy had found herself reveling in being the object of such attention. She had come so close to pleading with the sapphire mare to continue, to take care of the rest of her coat, but she had not been able to work up the nerve.

She sighed; perhaps someday. Physically, she felt more relaxed than she had in days.

Growing in the pit of her stomach, however, was a crushing sense of shame, chasing away the last vestiges of pleasure and relaxation. The warm glow of her cheeks had turned angry and blotchy, and she kicked off the covers in disgust. Trixie was her guest. She had shared her home with the unicorn to care for her, not to fantasize about her.

Rarity’s image swam in her mind’s eye, lounging languidly back in the hot tub, blithely offering platitudes to help the pegasus rationalize her own perversion. Phrases such as ‘perfectly natural’ and ‘doesn’t hurt anypony’ drifted through her imagination, each sounding more feeble and rote-learned than the last. She snorted.

She could not bear the smell of her own weakness any longer. Angrily, she stalked across the room and threw open the leaded windows, gasping a little as a blast of wintry air caught her in the face. Then, the pegasus tugged the bedcovers off and onto the floor with a gesture that was almost violent. Balling the duvet up inside the sheets, she began to tug the heavy mass of fabric downstairs.

Angel’s head snapped up as she accidentally collided with the coffee table on her way across the lounge, and he glared at her reproachfully. At that moment, though, she could not bring herself to care. She felt a horrible shriveling sensation in her chest as she imagined how Trixie would react if she could see inside her shy friend’s head.

It might not be all that bad, spoke up a reasonable, hopeful voice in the back of her mind. She might understand; she might even feel the same by now.

You’re a fool, snapped back another, less charitable instinct. She got burned badly enough by Rosemary; she won’t want to dip her hooves back into those feelings for a long time.

It’s been a long time; she told me herself that she wants to move on. Maybe she wants to leave Rosemary behind too? She made some terrible mistakes with that mare, and maybe she’ll never be able to forget her, but she wants to heal. She is healing.

She’s still in your care. It doesn’t give you the right to inject her into all your little fantasies.

As she dumped the incriminating evidence into her washtub, however, she felt her inwardly-directed anger drain a little, and she groaned. Trotting back upstairs, she pulled the windows closed again with a resigned shake of the head.

Rarity was right. She could not help how she felt towards the unicorn, and surely it was better that she relieve the frustration of the unattainable this way, rather than bottling it up inside until she did something idiotic.

She was still uncomfortable with the idea, and with her own loss of control, but her pragmatic side was undeniably in the right. The sense of shame slowly retreated to a nagging pinprick, as she looked out over the snowy Everfree beyond her cottage.

It was true; she was not hurting anypony.

When Trixie finally returned, the early winter night was drawing down, and Fluttershy was reading idly in front of the fire, nestled beneath a patchwork blanket that covered the entire sofa. She looked up at the click of the latch, and smiled at the chilly unicorn, gesturing for Trixie to join her on the sofa.

“You look frozen,” she said, her tone one of sympathy and slight concern.

The unicorn nodded with a slight shiver, trotting across the room after dropping off her saddlebags by the door, and holding her forehooves out to the fire. A bloom of colour had flared in her cheeks as she met the pegasus’s gaze, but Fluttershy put it down to the sudden warmth after the snowy outside world. “I haven’t eaten yet,” the pegasus added. “I’m keeping a nut roast warm in the oven, I thought we could eat on the sofa tonight.” She smiled. “You know; closer to the fire.”

Trixie’s brow furrowed a little, and she sighed. “I’m sorry, Fluttershy, I didn’t realize I’d been gone for so long, I didn’t mean to make you wait for dinner.” She smiled, timidly, although Fluttershy definitely caught a distinct reddening around the bridge of her nose. “Thanks for waiting, I’ll go plate some up for us.” She trotted towards the kitchen, idly plucking the head off a tulip from the vase by the door, and dropping it into her mouth with a low fizz of magic.

Fluttershy opened her mouth to ask that Trixie stay and warm up while she readied their food, but thought better of it. She knew that the unicorn needed symbiosis, and that she could never feel right simply taking, without being able to reciprocate in some way. She had learned over the last few days that kindness covered a far wider spectrum than she had once imagined, as did compromise.

After a few minutes, the sapphire mare returned, her horn glowing warmly and holding aloft two trays, each bearing a steaming plate. Fluttershy’s stomach rumbled audibly, and she flushed a little as Trixie deposited the tray gently on her lap, before curling up under the blanket beside her, balancing her own meal upon the arm of the sofa.

“Thanks.” Fluttershy smiled, taking a large mouthful to satiate her embarrassingly audible appetite. “How was the hilltop?” she asked, swallowing. “Do you think you’re ready for tomorrow?”

“Oh…” Trixie grinned back, but she seemed a little distracted. “It was fine,” she replied, at length. “You’re right, that place is wonderful if you’re trying to think straight. I… I feel a lot clearer on everything now, although I still don’t really know what I’m going to say.”

“At the party?”

“Huh?” Trixie seemed momentarily confused, as if unsure to what party Fluttershy was referring. Then her expression cleared. “Oh. Yes… yeah. The party.” She shook her head minutely. “I know I need to say something sooner rather than later, but it’s still a challenge to work up the nerve.”

“True.” Fluttershy nodded sympathetically. “Rainbow Dash can be a little intimidating, but I’m sure it’ll all be fine.”

“I guess I’ll have to play it by ear.” Trixie did not elaborate on her vague statement, instead applying herself to her food, and the pair of them lapsed into a companionable silence.

Now that she was sitting beside the unicorn again, however, the pegasus felt a slight resurgence of guilt. What would her friend think of her if she knew what she, Fluttershy, had been up to the moment Trixie left the house? What would she think if she knew the subject of Fluttershy’s overactive imagination, and of the deeply intimate situations that it could conjure up?

Fluttershy realized that she was staring into the fire, legs curled up beneath her. She turned to look at Trixie, and caught the unicorn gazing at her, leaning forward a little as if the pegasus were a code that she had spent years attempting fruitlessly to decipher. She expected the powder-blue mare to blush and look away, and whilst Trixie’s cheeks stained a deeper rose, she did not avert her gaze.

Why is it that I can never have what I want?

The voice had come unbidden from the back of Fluttershy’s mind, tiny and insidious. Trixie’s lavender eyes were glittering in the firelight, and she seemed to be fighting some painful internal battle.

Why does kindness always hold me back?

Trixie opened her mouth as if to speak, appeared to struggle for an instant, the flush creeping along her neck, then seemed to give up. She broke her friend’s gaze, and slipped a forkful of nut roast into her open mouth, her attitude one of defeat.

Kiss her.

The pegasus’s eyes shot suddenly wide at the thought; she was utterly unaware of where it had originated, only that it had hit her with a sudden, insane insistence.

What?

Kiss her. The impulse was stronger this time. You’re a beautiful mare; she’d be crazy to refuse you. Kiss her… it’d be so easy. You want her, so why not try and get what you want for once in your life?

She looked away from Trixie, blushing to the roots of her mane, but still perfectly determined. No.

Why not?

I’m not going to take advantage of her, it’d be cruel of me. That was why I let some steam off today; it was so I wouldn’t do something stupid now.

But now you’ve had a taste, haven’t you? You’ve tried the entrée, and now you want the main course, because you know it would be so much better. You shouldn’t try to trick yourself with fakes and fantasies, Fluttershy, all you’re doing is making yourself hungrier for the real thing.

No! That’s… that’s not… She chewed a mouthful of nut roast almost aggressively. That’s not how it works. If I can let off tension safely, then I can resist. If I just let it build up, then…

Sounds like you’re going to slip up either way, then. The voice was feigning bored indifference now. All I’m asking is whether you want to keep on torturing yourself, or tell her the truth now and save us all so much pain and laundry.

I’m stronger than that.

Well then, I wonder how long you’ll hold out. You won’t last forever, you know. One day you’ll weaken, and looking at the way you make her blush… Fluttershy’s gaze snapped unconsciously to Trixie, who seemed engrossed in thought again. Well, I’m not sure she’ll exactly be complaining when that day comes.

How do you see her? A reward? A prize? I’m not entitled to her, and it’d be disgusting to think of her like that. I’m caring for her because I want to, and she doesn’t owe me anything.

“This is lovely,” Trixie commented, her mouth half-full of food, snapping Fluttershy out of her reverie.

“Huh? Oh… thank you. I just threw it together, really,” she replied, smiling a little distractedly.

The unicorn bunched the blanket around herself, leaning back into the sofa a little, her expression difficult to read. “So… who’ll be at this party tomorrow?”

Fluttershy swallowed her mouthful of nut roast, and thought for a moment. “Well, Pinkie Pie will be hosting it… I don’t think you’ve met her before. Twilight should be there… if she isn’t, I’ll go around to the library and find out exactly what she’s playing at. Applejack and Rainbow Dash will both be there, and I can see them being the hardest to convince, but if Rarity and I both vouch for you, it should be alright. Rarity’s going to be there too, of course, purple mane and all.” She smirked, a little teasingly, and Trixie blushed, but giggled. “It’s okay,” she added, “she told me that she’s more than willing to bury the hatchet.”

Trixie nodded, obviously relieved. The pegasus noticed her shivering a little, and the unicorn blew on her forehooves, rubbing them together.

“Still cold?” Fluttershy asked, in concern.

“I’m… I’m okay,” Trixie replied. “I didn’t expect to be out for so long; I thought I’d be back before it got dark.”

The primrose mare reached out to touch her friend’s forehoof beneath the blanket; despite the fire, it still felt icy. “You shouldn’t have gone out on your own,” she murmured, guiltily. “I should never have said you were ready; you just look so much better now… but I saw the state you were in when I found you. You were never going to recover that quickly.”

“I’m fine, honestly,” insisted Trixie, magically raising another forkful of food to her lips.

“No you aren’t,” Fluttershy snapped, then shied away from the unicorn, blushing again. “I… I’m sorry. I’m angry with myself, not you.” She stood, choking back a sudden spring of tears for a reason she could not quite explain. “I’ll… I’ll fill you a hot water bottle. Just stay under the covers, and you’ll… you’ll be f-fine.”

She could feel Trixie’s confused eyes on her back as she walked away, wings tucked defensively tight against her sides. “Are you… Fluttershy, are you okay?” The worried voice sounded from behind her, low and caring, and she halted.

The pegasus turned, breathing out a long sigh. For a few moments, there was silence. “I’m fine, Trixie,” she said at last, in a small voice. “I’m sorry, I just… I worry about you.”

Trixie did not respond vocally; instead, she held out a hoof, magically lifting the blanket to create room for the primrose mare beside her. After a moment’s hesitation, Fluttershy trotted timidly back across the room, and climbed back beneath the patchwork cover beside the unicorn. Trixie could not know what was preying on her mind, but she could at least offer comfort for her obvious distress.

She snuggled tightly against the unicorn, leaning her forehead against Trixie’s chest with a low mumble of gratitude. The unicorn’s forehooves still felt cold against her own, and she half-raised her wings in silent invitation. Accepting the offer, Trixie rested her forehooves gently on Fluttershy’s sides. The pegasus felt herself jump minutely as the chilly hooves touched her, but folded in her wings close against her sides again, so that the sapphire mare’s hooves were warmly enveloped beneath the primrose feathers.

Fluttershy heard Trixie give a tiny sigh of relief, and smiled, feeling her own stresses retreat as she nestled against her friend. A single tear had soaked into the fur of her cheek, but no further droplets followed its lead.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Trixie murmured. She fell silent for a few seconds, then continued, “Fluttershy… if having me here is causing you stress, I… I don’t want to be a burden on you. You know you can always tell me the truth, and I wouldn’t be hurt or offended, don’t you?”

Fluttershy was a little taken aback by the question. “W-what makes you think you’re a burden?” she asked. “It’s wonderful having you here, and I…” Her voice tailed off. She could not truthfully say that Trixie was not causing her stress of any kind, but she could hardly admit to that particular internal struggle.

You can always tell me the truth.

But how could she? Whatever Trixie was expecting in response, it would not be an admission of such an intimate nature. Besides, she would far rather retain Trixie as a friend, and privately deal with the frustrations it entailed as best she could, than risk alienating her with a rash confession.

She smiled. “I know I can tell you the truth,” she whispered, cuddling closer to the unicorn’s neck, “but everything’s wonderful.”

As her eyes fluttered shut, however, she did not see the small, knowing smile, as it played across Trixie’s lips.