Chapter Thirteen

A Night To Remember - Part II

The night continued dancing onwards, and showed not the least sign of losing its momentum. The music was louder now, the front room filled with strobing, wavering lights. The kitchen was full of ponies worn out by the incessant thudding of the Cakes’ much-abused stereo, and the slippery tiles of the shop floor had become home to an impromptu sliding contest, masterminded by Pinkie Pie.

Trixie watched amusedly from the doorway that led to the living room, as the socked form of Pinkie took a run up, and skidded a good six feet along the chequerboard tiles, her legs flailing wildly as she did her utmost to remain upright. “Wheee! This is so—whoops!” Losing her balance, the party pony toppled back onto her rump, to general cheers from the watching crowd.

The sapphire mare had not yet been given a chance to speak with Rainbow Dash. The pegasus had been at Pinkie’s side for most of the evening, or otherwise at the centre of the dance-floor, living up to her exuberant appearance and reputation. Whether she was attempting to avoid Trixie, or was simply too preoccupied with her marefriend to remember of the more serious function served by tonight’s festivities, the unicorn did not know.

“S’not fair,” Dash exclaimed, darting forwards and squaring up to Pinkie with an expression of mock-indignation, as the observing ponies began to disperse. “You’re wearing socks, Pinks; we don’t stand a chance…” Her voice tailed away, and she broke into a grin.

Pinkie giggled. “You’re welcome to borrow ‘em if you’d like.”

Dash raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, tempting, but I’m gonna pass. You look way too cute for me to go makin’ changes.”

The earth pony grinned mischievously, darting to Dash’s side and nuzzling the back of her neck as she traced one forehoof along the indentation between her marefriend’s wings. “Cute, am I?” She giggled as Dash leaned longingly back towards her lips, teasingly pushing her muzzle away with her free hoof. “Want me to show you just how cute I can be?”

Trixie turned away. Interrupting such a moment would hardly endear her to the pegasus.

Looking around at the crowds, she found herself wondering how it was possible that nopony had challenged her yet. A thought sparked across her mind, injecting a small burst of hope into her heart.

Perhaps it was not simply that nopony had noticed her; maybe she had faded from the town’s memory over the interceding years since her last visit. It would make sense; she was far less recognizable without her hat and cape. Besides; if what Cheerilee had said was true, maybe the Ursa Minor attack had registered more as a mere irritation, than as a true catastrophe for those who lived here.

Of course, many more would recognize her if they connected a name to her face, and she had noticed two ponies pointing quizzically at her from across the room, their expressions showing pensive half-recognition. If she were to settle into a life in this town, anonymity could not shield her forever. Tonight, however, it would be enough to get her though.

In fact, it would be wrong to suggest that she had gone completely unnoticed. She had been invited to dance by a blue unicorn stallion not ten minutes ago, although she had politely declined his stammered request. In hindsight, perhaps she had been a little distant with him; she had distinctly heard him mutter, “What’s the matter with all the mares at this party?” as he retreated back to his sympathetic friends.

Of course, the most enjoyable parts of the evening had been the ones spent in Fluttershy’s company, although these times had been few and far between. She tried to keep her distance, so as to allow the pegasus time to spend alone with her friends as she was used to. Trixie was determined that she would not come between Fluttershy and her friends, no matter how close she personally became to the mare, and at this early stage it felt wrong to try and intrude upon their social circle.

She had, however, played an enjoyable round of darts with Rarity, and was relieved to find her just as warm and welcoming as she had been during their first conversation. They had discovered a shared taste in rather tasteless novels, and the alabaster unicorn had trounced Trixie thoroughly in their game, her delicate and precise magic proving perfectly suited to aiming the fiddly little darts.

Looking around, she saw Fluttershy chattering to Applejack at one of the food tables, showing an uncharacteristic effervescence, and drinking from a tall glass of bright purple fruit punch. The farm-pony looked a little surprised at her friend’s suddenly outgoing behaviour, but watching from a distance, Trixie presumed that she had simply been made less inhibited by the party’s atmosphere. As she watched, the mares trotted over towards the dance-floor, still chatting animatedly. Some impulse in the pit of her stomach told Trixie that maybe she ought to join them.

At that moment, there was a loud cough behind her. She turned with a slight jolt, realizing with embarrassment that she was blocking the door to the living room. Looking up, she saw Rainbow Dash looking at her, eyebrows raised. Pinkie was trailing a few steps behind, bouncing a little on the spot.

“Oh!” Trixie hastily stepped aside, biting her lip. “Sorry, I’m in the way, aren’t I? I just sort of zoned out, and…” Her voice died away. Dash had trotted past without so much as acknowledging her existence, her stony expression melting to a grin as she turned to speak to Pinkie, presenting Trixie firmly with the back of her head.

“C’mon Pinks, wanna grab a bite?”

“Sure!”

The couple trotted away through the crowd, leaving Trixie standing rather stupidly, staring after their retreating forms. Trixie doubted that Pinkie had even noticed her, she was so caught up in Dash’s company, but the cyan pegasus certainly had.

The unicorn’s heart sank horribly; Dash, it appeared, was not prepared to give her a chance. Trixie had the distinct impression that Pinkie could be exceptionally oblivious when distracted, otherwise she would surely have remarked upon her lover’s unfriendly behaviour.

The expression on Dash’s face in the half-second that their eyes had met was deeply disheartening. It was not anger or hatred; more a contemptuous indifference which made it perfectly clear that, as far as the pegasus was concerned, Trixie did not exist.

On an impulse, Trixie followed them through the crowd, keeping a safe distance between herself and the two mares. A short distance from the refreshment tables, they halted. The unicorn noticed that both mares seemed to be eyeing the crystal bowl filled with purple punch, from which Fluttershy had refilled her own glass a few minutes previously. Neither seemed to want to be the first to make a move.

Dash suddenly smiled a little slyly at Pinkie, obviously unaware of Trixie’s observation. “Hey, wanna get some of that punch? Seems like the only bowl you’ve not touched yet.”

The earth pony frowned, obviously feigning indecision. Then, she grinned. “Nah, I’m not too keen on that one… why don’t you grab yourself a glass, Dashie?”

Dash shrugged, but was eyeing her marefriend a little suspiciously. “Nice of you, but I’m all punched out, y’know?”

Pinkie pouted. “Aww, go on…”

The pegasus grinned again. “Don’t want to try your own punch, huh?”

“Well, you don’t want to try mine!” Pinkie fluttered her eyelashes. “A lot of work went into it, you know…”

“Exactly, so are you tellin’ me you don’t want to try the punch that you worked so hard on?”

“Only if you will, Dashie!”

Silence fell for a moment between the two mares, then Dash and Pinkie turned to each other, perfectly deadpan expressions on their faces. “You’ve spiked it, haven’t you?” they said in unison.

“Yep,” they replied, together.

Another, longer silence fell, as the confectioner and flyer stared at each other in mounting horror. Dash’s eyes flew to the punch bowl, then back to her marefriend’s face. “Oh Celestia,” she groaned, pointing at the liquid. “Who’s been drinking from that?”

“No idea, but I put in half a bottle of Los Pegasus special,” Pinkie said, raising a hoof in admission.

“Snap, ‘cept I used Smirnhoof,” replied Dash, dully.

“We really need to get more original, don’t we?” observed Pinkie.

Trixie was watching the exchange, wide-eyed. Suddenly, Fluttershy’s bout of outgoing behaviour seemed far easier to explain.

“Are you crazy?” The unicorn had darted forward, the words slipping between her lips before she could stop them. Dash turned to face her. “You realize Fluttershy’s been drinking from that, right? Who knows how strong it is by now!”

For a moment, a flash of something close to guilt passed across Dash’s face, but it was quickly quelled. Apparently unable to maintain her policy of ignoring Trixie any longer, she snorted. “Huh. Look who’s come crawling back to Ponyville.” Her voice was loud, and several passers-by turned to look for the source of the sudden commotion. Trixie was devoutly thankful that Fluttershy was not within earshot; moral support would not have gone amiss, but the sapphire mare did not want to be responsible for an altercation between the two pegasi.

“Dashie,” Pinkie murmured reproachfully, tugging at her marefriend’s foreleg. Dash ignored her.

Trixie did not meet the pegasus’s eyes, instead looking down at the floorboards in a submissive gesture, hoping against hope that the brash mare would see reason, and at least be civil with her. “I… I guess Rarity told you I’d be here?” she asked.

She jumped back a little as Dash flared her wings, darting forwards so that their faces were inches apart. “Uh-huh, she did. What I don’t understand is why the hell you think we want you here.” A fleck of saliva struck Trixie’s cheek, and she bit her lip. For all the world, she wanted to appear strong and unruffled by this aggression, but there was a sudden lump in her throat that seemed to be restricting her ability to speak.

“Dashie…” Pinkie repeated, a little pleadingly now. “Just give her a chance, won’t you? I know how she used to be, but she’s different now.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Dash shot back, contemptuously. She looked around at the circle of observing ponies, many of whom were glaring at her. “What’s the matter with you?” she shot at the crowd in general. “Y’know who this is, right?”

The murmur that rose from the onlookers was one of general confusion, although now that they had the chance to get a better look at Trixie, a few voices held the rising tone of dawning comprehension. The unicorn suddenly became aware of how fast her heart was beating.

Dash nodded, turning to look at Trixie again. She was a little taller than the unicorn, and undeniably intimidating up close. Shaking a few polychromatic strands from out of her eyes, she let out a derisive snort. “Yep, would you look at that? The Great and Powerful Trixie is here again, everypony! Prepare to be amazed.”

There was a more pronounced murmur of recognition this time, and now, some of the accusatory glares were directed towards the unicorn. “What’s she doing here?” piped up a green mare who Trixie did not recognize. She looked around wildly again, desperate for a friendly face. Fluttershy would doubtless cause something of a scene, but at that moment, her presence would have been much appreciated, either way. Unfortunately, the hubbub Dash was creating did not carry far over the music, and the mass of ponies on and around the dance-floor had not yet noticed the growing conglomeration by the trestle tables.

“Yeah, care to explain?” Dash turned back to Trixie, poking her hard in the chest. The unicorn felt herself cringe away from the contact, and the cyan mare raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Oh, sorry. Do you want us to bow down? Are we not worthy of touching you?”

“I… I’m sorry,” Trixie choked out, her words jumbled and almost inaudible.

“What?”

“I’m sorry!” Her voice had grown louder, although it was still hoarse with tears. “I came here because I don’t have anywhere else to go. Like Rarity told you, I’m living with Fluttershy, and I came here tonight because I owe you all an apology for the way I behaved.”

Dash had alighted on the ground, and had taken a half-step back, so that Trixie could no longer feel the mare’s breath beating against her face. “You think ‘sorry’ can sort this out?” she asked, sounding almost incredulous. “I thought Rare was kidding at first; I really did. You made fools out of me and my friends,” she spat. “You nearly got the whole town ripped to pieces! You nearly got Twilight killed! And Fluttershy’s letting you live with her?” Her voice had risen angrily again, but then it fell to a far quieter, more even pitch, still laced with an ugly contempt. “But you’re sorry. That’s okay then; she’s sorry, everypony. The Great and Powerful Trixie is—”

“Don’t call me that!” The words had ripped out of Trixie’s mouth in a harsh, anguished yell, before she could even begin to restrain herself.

The watching crowd had fallen perfectly silent. Pinkie Pie was observing from the sidelines, her face slack and mortified.

Make her pay. Make her pay for humiliating you like this. The snide, arrogant thought cut across her brain, quite unbidden. It was a voice she had last heard in a dream, standing at her side, atop a storm-whipped clifftop. It felt like an icicle cutting into her chest, but somehow, she was prepared for it.

No. She’s trying to provoke me into showing who she thinks I really am.

I’m who you really are; that’s why you’ve let me back in when you need me. She’s mocking you; she can see how weak you are without me. Do you think I’ll ever really be gone?

Everypony has a voice like you. That nasty, childish, tempting little urge. I should have left you behind years ago; you’re pathetic.

Bite me again, why don’t you?

Trixie ran the tip of her tongue over the rough scar tissue cutting across her lower lip, and she felt as if another tiny, essential piece had clicked into place inside her.

Goodbye.

Trixie’s eyes were boring into Dash’s, her breathing ragged. “I’m not her anymore,” she said at length, her voice quiet and a little shaky. “I haven’t been her for a long time now. I’m… I’m just me, and I’m so, so sorry for what she did.”

Her eyes were hot and stinging, and she knew that she could speak no more, no matter how hard she tried. Once more, she was quite alone in her mind.

She could not make out Dash’s expression through the haze of tears, but the pegasus seemed indecisive. She clearly recognized Trixie’s apology as genuine, but seemed not to want to back down now, not after she had already shown so intense a dislike for the unicorn. At that moment, however, Trixie felt a hoof on her shoulder.

“You need to back off, Sugarcube.” Applejack’s voice was calming and reconciliatory, although there was a hardness in her eyes as she examined the pegasus. Trixie realized that the earth pony had placed herself in the gap between the mares, shielding the unicorn. “Let’s just calm down, okay?”

“A-Applejack?” Dash’s voice was a little higher-pitched than usual, and her eyes were wide with surprise for the briefest of moments. Then, her tone became belligerent again. “Don’t ‘Sugarcube’ me. I guess you’ve been taken in by her too, huh?”

“Rainbow…” Applejack’s voice was still doggedly placating. “Can’t y’all see she’s changed? I know you don’t wanna go backin’ down in front of a big ol’ crowd like this, but it wouldn’t make you weak. I know you, Rainbow Dash; I daresay I know you better’n most. Sure, you’re loyal, an’ you’re proud, but you ain’t a bully.”

“She’s right, Dashie.” Pinkie’s voice was uncharacteristically subdued, as she too stepped forwards, placing herself between the tearful mare and the cyan pegasus.

As Trixie blinked back tears, she saw Dash’s eyes moving between those of her former lover, and her current marefriend. Then, she seemed to droop a little, and she turned her face away, apparently unable to articulate a suitable response. Then, biting her lip, she turned and met Applejack’s eyes. There was regret in her gaze that went far beyond the scene for which she had just been responsible. “AJ, I…” her voice trailed away to nothingness.

The farm-pony gave a deep sigh. “I reckon we’ve both got a few things we need to say, huh?”

Dash bit her lip, and nodded minutely.

Trixie would have liked to thank Applejack, but some instinct told her that to do so would be a mistake.

Suddenly, she felt a hoof rest on her shoulder. She turned, finding herself face-to-face with Cheerilee. The schoolteacher jerked her head towards the door to the shop, and the unicorn followed her, gratefully. Nopony tried to stop them; if Rainbow Dash still harboured any ill feeling towards Trixie, it could be dealt with at some other time. Whatever had come between her and Applejack clearly ran deeper. Besides, at this stage, Trixie was willing to trade a clear resolution for a chance to get away from the pegasus.

“Are you okay?” Cheerilee asked, as soon as they had gained the peace of the now-deserted bakery.

“I knew tonight wasn’t going to be easy,” Trixie admitted, aware of how red her eyes must still be. The windows were a solid, oppressive black, the wind whistling up against the panes. “I… Thanks for getting me out of there.”

“Why are you here, Trixie?” Cheerilee asked sadly. “What’s there to keep you here?”

Trixie did not reply immediately; the answer was, to her, painfully obvious. “Everything,” she muttered, at last. “Everything I care about is here.”

Cheerilee’s gaze was searching. “You’ve never found anything worth caring for before?”

“Of course I have.” Trixie let out a short, bitter laugh. “But I was too much of a fool to realize it, and every time I look back on all those years, it just makes me want to…” She broke off with a low groan. “I… I can’t. Everything I was is just poison to me now. This place… it isn’t a second chance; it’s my last chance. It’s my last chance to prove that there’s more to me than smoke and mirrors.”

The burgundy mare was gazing at Trixie, and there was a strange understanding in her eyes that made the unicorn feel quite transparent. “You don’t strike me as an illusion, Trixie,” she said quietly.

At that moment, the door to the living room swung ajar and Rarity entered, looking worried. “Trixie? Cheerilee? I… I heard shouting from across the room, and I… what’s going on?”

Trixie bit her lip. “I… well, it turns out Dash was a bit less willing to forgive and forget than the rest of you.”

The alabaster mare stamped a hoof in frustration, shaking her head. “That mare can be an absolute ruffian at times. Are you alright?”

“I… I guess so.” Trixie shrugged, reasonably sure that she was telling the truth. She could not have expected everypony to accept her without question.

Rarity looked suddenly pensive. “Now that I think about it, I just saw her, Pinkie Pie and Applejack all talking together. I wonder what brought that on?”

“I’d better get back to the party,” Cheerilee remarked, turning to Trixie. “You will be okay, won’t you?”

Trixie nodded. “I’ll be fine. Hey, thanks for pulling me out of there.”

Cheerilee smiled a little sadly, resting a forehoof on the side of Trixie’s neck. Then, she turned, and trotted back through to the party, pulling the door shut behind her. Immediately, the insistent beat of the music grew a little quieter.

Trixie turned to face Rarity, hoping to find answers for Applejack’s strange behaviour. “Haven’t they been speaking lately? It’s just… Applejack... she stepped in to stop Rainbow Dash yelling at me.” She paused, replaying the events of the evening in her mind. “What happened between them? The look on her face when she saw Pinkie and Dash together, it was…” She shook her head. “Does she have… feelings for Dash, then?”

Rarity looked saddened. “She… well, she certainly used to. I don’t doubt that she still does, to some extent. Their relationship was short and messy, if you want the truth. They were too deeply at odds with one another to remain peaceful for long.”

“So they were together…” Trixie nodded, thoughtfully. “You mean it became too competitive between them?”

“Well, yes and no.” Rarity leaned sideways against the counter, her expression a little fatigued. “Applejack wanted to keep their liaisons quiet, which naturally didn’t sit well with Dash; I think she felt affronted, perhaps believing that Applejack considered their relationship a mark of shame. The poor dear’s always been an intensely private mare, but I suppose she failed to communicate that motive. I hear she became steadily more… pushy. The matter of secrecy became a paranoia that seeped into every aspect of their relationship, and as for Dash… well, she never was one to take compromise well.” She shrugged. “In the end, Applejack told me that it was mutual, but I believe Dash was the one to commit the final act of severance, so to speak.”

“And Pinkie stepped in to patch things up for Dash?”

“I don’t honestly think Pinkie was aware of precisely what she was patching up,” mused Rarity. “Certainly tonight’s the first time I’ve seen Applejack and Rainbow Dash directly speaking with one another in some time, so perhaps the whole story will come out now. I hope they can be honest with one another; it’s about time the air was cleared.”

With a pang of foreboding, Trixie suddenly remembered what had triggered her encounter with Dash in the first place. “Um, Rarity?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Do you know how much of that purple punch Fluttershy drank?”

The expression of concern on Rarity’s face suddenly mirrored Trixie’s own. “I think only one or two glasses, but they were a reasonable size. Why?”

“Dash and Pinkie Pie both added a little… well, a little something to it.” Rarity groaned. “Independently of each other,” Trixie added. The alabaster mare let out a second groan, and clapped a hoof to her forehead. Trixie nodded. “Exactly. I think each of them was trying to trick the other, but it seems like there was a crossed wire somewhere.”

“Ugh,” Rarity let out a little sound of frustration. “Those two. Ever since they got together, they’ve been locked in an endless war of pranks. You wouldn’t believe the collateral damage. I can tell you now, it is nigh-impossible to shift custard stains from a dress.” She sighed. “Now that you mention it, I thought dear Fluttershy seemed a little… vivacious.” The unicorn shrugged. “She should be alright, provided she doesn’t drink any more. She didn’t strike me as entirely off her hooves; merely a little less timid than usual.”

Trixie rolled her eyes, but smiled fondly at the image. “I’d better go find her.”

“Do what you must, darling.” Rarity gave a demure little wave, smirking, as Trixie trotted back into the thicket of ponies in the front room.

On a hunch, the unicorn made a beeline for the crowd on the dance-floor, looking around for a flash of primrose-yellow. For a few moments, she loitered on the edge of the crowd, the bass drilling into her skull.

“Long time, no see.” The voice was so close that Trixie felt the warm breath bloom in her ear, and for an instant, she fought to place that timbre, as she turned to face its owner. Then, as she turned and met Fluttershy’s gaze, the azure mare wondered how she could have not recognized her voice, even for a second.

“Oh, I—Hey,” said the unicorn, caught a little off-guard. Thankfully, Fluttershy was not holding a glass, and she seemed perfectly capable of remaining both upright and compos mentis, which Trixie took as a relief. The pegasus’s cheeks were rosy, and her legs swayed in time with the music. Her neck was a little bowed, and she was looking up at the unicorn with a playful, appraising air.

It seemed, fortunately, as if she had not witnessed the debacle between Trixie and Dash, because her smile was serene. “How’re you enjoying the evening?” Once again, her voice was quite different to her usual tones; gone was the breathy, half-whispered squeak, replaced by a warmer, richer timbre. When not caught up in her throat with nerves, the pegasus’s voice had a smooth, honeyed quality to it that could be described as nothing other than seductive.

“It’s… it’s nice. Everypony’s really…” Trixie’s words trailed off, and she felt colour rise in her cheeks. She had just realised where she had heard that voice before; it had met her ears the one other time she had seen Fluttershy abandon her inhibitions, and let her shyness take the backseat for a few precious minutes.

The pegasus raised her neck, nuzzling in a gentle, circular motion against Trixie’s cheek. “You’re so cute when you blush, you know that, right?”

Trixie giggled nervously, but inside, she felt as though a small explosion was taking place inside her chest, as two irresistible impulses came into conflict.

She’s drunk; don’t you dare take advantage of this.

She’s only a little tipsy, it was never going to take much to make feelings like that spill over. Maybe something’s finally going to happen, and we can stop this game.

You’d love that, wouldn’t you? But what about her?

She wants it as much as I do.

But… like this? Really?

“It’s not like I can help it,” she muttered.

“Well, I’ll have to make you blush more often then,” Fluttershy returned, nudging the unicorn, playfully.

“Fluttershy, are… are you feeling okay?” This sudden shift in behavior, pleasurable though the flirtation was, felt rather disconcerting.

The pegasus grinned, looking coyly down at the floor. She rubbed her forelegs together in an affectation of her usual shyness. “Never better.” She suddenly turned, and met Trixie’s eyes. “Hey… want to dance?”

Say ‘no’. Would she really behave like this if she were herself?

“Sure, let’s.”

Weak.

Trixie ignored the nagging, conscientious little voice, allowing Fluttershy to instead lead her by the hoof between couples, into the heart of the dance-floor. Try as she might, her eyes were glued to the curve of the pegasus’s back; to the cascade of her mane and the delicate little indentation between her wings.

Suddenly, forcefully, she remembered the first time she had set eyes upon Fluttershy, in a private, innocent moment under the stars. She had caught sight of an unexpected angel, her voice crystal-clear and soothing, despite its hushed tones. The figure’s mane had seemed almost liquid in the moonlight, and her eyes had evaded adequate description, as they still did to this day.

Would it be shallow to say I fell in love that night? she wondered. Would it be superficial?

No, she decided. The mare’s beauty had caught her eye, but it was her nature that had proven so captivating. She had been shown a glimpse of Fluttershy’s innermost self that night, and she would defy anypony not to fall in love at such a sight.

How could she resist now?

Fluttershy turned to face her, and Trixie was struck again by those aquamarine eyes. The song was upbeat and bass-heavy, with a bounce to the rhythm which made it impossible to remain stationary. The emboldened pegasus took the lead, swaying her hips in time to the music and stomping her front hooves as she shifted her weight from one to the other. Trixie followed suit as best she could, bobbing her head a little awkwardly and feeling rather foolish.

“Come on,” Fluttershy giggled. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

Trixie bit her lip. “Once,” she mumbled. “Back in school; I wasn’t any good then, either. You might need to teach me.”

“Glad to.” The pegasus grinned, edging around until she and Trixie were standing side-by-side, close enough that their withers brushed together every time Fluttershy swayed to the right. The unicorn stiffened a little, her breath catching in her throat as she felt Fluttershy’s muzzle trace a line along the side of her neck, before edging around her jaw, finally alighting near her ear. “You just need to relax,” she murmured, placing a sensual stress upon the last word. The unicorn felt herself shiver, and Fluttershy giggled again. “You’re so adorable…”

“I… Fluttershy, I think you’ve had a few too many,” Trixie blurted out, feeling that she should at least say something to assuage the nagging guilt in her chest.

The pegasus shook her head, looking amused. “I’d say I’ve had exactly the right amount.” She pouted a little, nosing at the unicorn’s mane. “Don’t you like dancing with me?”

Oh, what’s the use? Trixie relented; she had no defences left. The unicorn smiled in return, leaning into Fluttershy’s nuzzles. “It’ll have to count as dancing before I can answer that.”

Trying to loosen her muscles, she did her best to imitate Fluttershy’s actions, rocking from side-to-side, in time to the beat. At first, she felt a little stiff and robotic, but as she turned to meet the pegasus’s eyes again, she was possessed by a momentary lack of care. What did it matter if ponies were watching? Somehow, the synchronicity of their motions, coupled with the occasional teasing brushes of their flanks and fetlocks, had ignited that unique, irrepressible fire in the pit of her stomach. She felt herself unconsciously relax; instead of trying to anticipate each beat, she gave up planning altogether.

To her surprise, as soon as she stopped resisting the music, the whole business became far more fluid and natural. Suddenly, it was as if she did not need to purposefully coordinate her actions; merely guide them, and allow the rhythms shuddering through her to take care of the rest.

Her tail tangled momentarily with Fluttershy’s, and the pegasus let out a low purr of satisfaction. “There, that’s much better.” She draped her neck over Trixie’s own, as they continued to move in concert. Their heated coats were now pressed closely together as the pretence of education began to fail.

The unicorn felt a molten thrill of desire spill throughout her body. Unless the shrill jangle of the alarm clock was about to rip her back to a colder reality, she knew that this was actually happening, and yet she could not believe or rationalise it. Nor, indeed, did she want to try.

Flecks of heat picked at her skin, concentrated in her chest, and growing between her thighs. She craned up her head with an animalistic longing, searching with her muzzle. Fluttershy was softer than velvet and infinitely warmer, the silk of her dress providing a cool, sharp counterpoint to her coat and downy feathers. Trixie suddenly felt very naked.

Without warning, Fluttershy pulled away. She spun to face Trixie with a graceful twirl, before the unicorn could quite realise what was happening, and draped her forelegs around Trixie’s neck. Her cheeks were still rosy, her smile sharp and almost hungry, with no hint of timidity. They continued to move instinctually to the music, sensing the press of bodies around them, faces inches apart.

For an instant, Fluttershy’s gaze bored into Trixie, her eyes blazing and irresistible. “Do you realise what you do to me?” the pegasus asked, quietly, her voice shaking a little.

Trixie’s mouth felt exceedingly dry, and her tongue seemed paralyzed. Fluttershy’s face filled her field of vision now, her eyes huge and all-consuming. Trixie felt almost as if she could fall straight through them and find herself anywhere. Their muzzles were hovering scant millimeters apart, so close that when Fluttershy next spoke, the motion caused their lips to brush tantalizingly together. Her words came out in a low hiss. “Do you have the faintest, foggiest idea of what you do to me?”

The unicorn could hardly breathe; she felt trapped by the crowd, pressed close to this mare by the mass of bodies. Yet, somehow, the sensation of entrapment was deeply pleasurable. Her cheeks were a raging, furious red, and she felt every bit as intoxicated as the pegasus in whose forelegs she was clutched. One of Fluttershy’s hooves was buried in Trixie’s mane, the other tracing long, stately strokes along the side of her neck.

The pegasus curled herself around Trixie again, until they stood side-by-side once more, flanks and withers meeting, each looking sideways into the other’s face. The unicorn could feel a downy wing quivering with tension, pressed close against her side; suddenly, there seemed to be very little oxygen in the room.

Then, just as it seemed that they were fated to simply stare at one another until the night had run its course, Fluttershy attacked.

“Mmmph!” The kiss was sudden, harsh and insistent, as if Fluttershy had screwed up her courage to the point where subtlety was quite impossible. Trixie felt her muscles stiffen instinctually, and she let out a sharp, muffled sound of surprise. Then, her conscious mind caught up with her subconscious reaction, and she leaned into the contact with a whimper of longing. After all that had happened, after so many awkward concessions and fears and second-guesses, all of it had come to a head in that instant. The intricate dance that they had been sharing since that first night had, at last, ended.

Now was the time for a new dance to begin.

Hungrily, impulsively, Trixie kissed back, moulding her mouth into the impossibly soft, heated contours of Fluttershy’s lips. The pegasus pulled Trixie closer, breathing hard and rapidly through her nose. Fluttershy’s head was tilted sideways a little, and she began to suckle and tug at Trixie’s lower lip. Finally, she pulled away entirely, giving a tiny moan as Trixie pressed blindly forwards, seeking to prolong the contact.

“I’ve always been so weak,” Fluttershy whispered, nuzzling desperately at Trixie’s face and neck. “I’ve never been able to take what I wanted before, but I guess I’ve never really wanted before, either.” She kissed the unicorn again, catching her a little open-mouthed and darting the tip of her tongue teasingly past Trixie’s lips, for the briefest of moments. Her wings were raised to their fullest extent, angelic, at her sides.

“You make me want…” She moaned the words into the kiss, their mouths still loosely pressed together. Trixie heard her give a tiny growling sound as she pulled away for a brief instant to catch a quick gasp of air. “You make me so selfish, because this is all just so new, and I want to try it all…” She began to suckle on the tip of Trixie’s ear, running her hooves over every inch of sapphire fur that she could reach. An enthusiastically-dancing couple bumped into them from the side, but neither mare heard their hurried apologies. “I want to taste it,” Fluttershy purred.

Trixie could sympathize. In a quick motion, she pulled the pegasus around to face her, buried her forehooves amongst the primary feathers of Fluttershy’s wings, and engaged her in another heated kiss, any last vestiges of self-restraint long lost.

Fluttershy groaned at the dual sensations as the unicorn toyed with her quivering wings, and Trixie felt the sound shudder between their mouths. Their tongues met with confident, exploratory sweeps, and Trixie was lost in the intimate, wet sensation as they struggled playfully for dominance. No matter what new pleasures she experienced in her life, she had never been able to grow accustomed to the delicious, slightly alien sense of delirious invasion that accompanied a deep French kiss.

“Let’s go home,” the pegasus whined as she broke away, snatching another breath, the need in her voice mirroring the desire that was rippling in the pit of Trixie’s stomach. She only seemed able to force herself into separation for a moment, however, because an instant later, Trixie felt her still-open mouth being occupied once more.

The pegasus gave a throaty moan, flicking her tongue from side-to-side, as if determined to explore every inch of this strange new world. Her technique was rather inexpert, and more than a little messy if the dampening fur around Trixie’s mouth was anything to go by, but the unicorn could not have cared less. Her every breath was rising as a shaky little sigh of pleasure, and she was devoutly thankful that the noises they were making seemed to be drowned by the insistent thudding of the music.

She could taste the punch on Fluttershy’s tongue, the warm tang of the fruit lending an undercurrent of intoxicating sweetness to their connection. Also present, however, was the subtle bite of alcohol; she could sense the sting of it rising on each breath. It should not have been there; in an ideal world, this moment would have been born of the kind of courage that did not reside in a bottle.

Somehow, the taste brought her back to reality.

This is wrong.

The thought burned across her mind like a flash-fire, wiping out all others. Arousal was still coursing through her blood, singing in her ears and fogging her brain, but she knew that she could not yield to it.

Trixie broke the kiss, letting her eyes flick open, forcing herself back under control. She had done enough damage in letting her resolve slip this far, but she knew that if she took Fluttershy home to bed, the pegasus would never be able to look her in the eye again. She would lose the trust that was the only thing sustaining her.

Fluttershy was not herself; more than that, she had not intended to get herself into this state. She had not known what she was drinking, and although Trixie knew that the feelings she professed were genuine, and not simply born of the alcohol, it felt wrong to see them aired in such a crass, candid way. Taking advantage thus far had been unforgivable enough; to allow events to progress to their logical conclusion was simply unthinkable.

The pegasus gazed at Trixie for a few long moments, breath coming in short gasps, her tongue poking slightly from between her lips.

If I refuse her now, she’ll hate me.

For tonight, maybe. Then, tomorrow, she’ll thank you.

This was not how she had imagined such a confession, if she was honest with herself. There was a connection between her and the pegasus that could not be encapsulated in simple physical displays, and to throw that away for a night of drunken fun felt like a disgusting act of vandalism.

Of course, Fluttershy had admitted everything, and made her feelings quite plain; there was no getting around that now. This time tomorrow, things would be forever different between them, one way or another. Maybe, just maybe, despite the rocky start that fate had thrown their way, it would be possible to salvage the situation.

She had to forcibly restrain her mind from wandering as her eyes ran over Fluttershy’s spread, quivering wings, and her rumpled, cascading mane.

If you care about her, if you’ve ever cared about anypony but yourself, you’ll say no.

“Fluttershy…” The unicorn jerked her head towards the door, choosing her words carefully. She needed to explain, as best she could, but the middle of a crowded dance-floor was not the place. “Let’s get you home.”

The pegasus giggled, looking up at Trixie with a faux-innocent gaze. “Goodness, Trixie, what are you suggesting? I hope you’re not suggesting that I be involved in any improp—” she hiccoughed, “imperp… funny business.”

Trixie did not reply, as she led the way towards the door, with the pegasus in tow. Fluttershy draped a wing closely over her back as they walked, nestling her cheek into Trixie’s mane.

I shouldn’t have kissed her like that. She’s not going to understand why I won’t go through with this.

She will tomorrow. Just pray she forgives you for not being able to control yourself sooner. You led her on this far; she’s got more than enough reason to be mortified as it is.

She caught sight of a familiar blue-clad back amongst the crowds, as they made for the exit. “Rarity!”

The unicorn turned, and trotted over to them. Catching sight of the way the mares were entwined, an expression of mischievous delight began to grow on her face.

“We’re… I’m going to get Fluttershy home now,” Trixie said, quickly, before the alabaster mare could speak. “She needs rest.”

Rarity giggled a little, in what could only have been polite acknowledgement of what she clearly assumed to be a euphemism. “Very well then, don’t let me keep you.”

Trixie bit her lip. “I’m… I’m sorry to rush off like this. Please thank Pinkie for letting me come tonight.” She smiled, a little weakly. “It’s great to have met you all.”

The other mare raised an eyebrow. “Even Rainbow Dash?”

Trixie shrugged. “If forcing Applejack to step in got them talking face-to-face again, I guess it was worth it.”

Fluttershy was looking from Rarity to Trixie, seemingly a little lost. “Step in on what? What’s… what’s happened?”

“I’ll explain later,” Trixie promised, privately thinking that it would be only chivalrous to allow Rainbow Dash time to emigrate before doing so.

“May I borrow you for an instant, dear?” Rarity asked Trixie. Her eyes darted to the slightly mutinous expression on Fluttershy’s face. “I promise I’ll only separate you two for the briefest of moments,” she hastily reassured the tipsy pegasus, who slid her wing a little begrudgingly from Trixie’s back, allowing the two unicorns to walk a few feet away.

“Am I to presume that something of a development has occurred?” Rarity asked in a rapid whisper, grinning. At Trixie’s hesitation in responding, she raised a hoof in faux-admission. “It’s alright; she and I have been co-conspirators for some time regarding these matters. You can trust me.”

The blue mare gave a weak gulp. “I… I think so.” She dropped her voice yet lower. “If all the kissing was anything to go by, at any rate.”

Rarity beamed so broadly that there seemed no longer to be enough room on her face to accommodate her smile. “Oh, darling, that’s wonderful; she needs somepony like you in her life, and I have every faith in you.” She suddenly chuckled, looking coyly sideways at the other unicorn. “I presume then, that for you two, this is not the end of tonight’s festivities.”

Trixie blushed violently, but bit her lip. “Actually, I think it will be,” she replied, heavily. “I know how she feels for me, but she would never usually be so… forward. I’m not going to take advantage of her; I know she wants me, but she also wants to suppress those feelings, and if I let her go through with them, she’ll hate herself tomorrow. If anything’s going to happen between us, it’ll be because she’s learned that there’s nothing to be ashamed of in feeling the way she does. It won’t be because she’s repressed that shame with a drink for a few hours, because that isn’t helping anypony.”

The pearly mare looked appraisingly at her for a few long moments, then she smiled an altogether calmer smile, albeit one tinged with guilt. “I… forgive me, I don’t mean to pry, I was just so caught up in the moment… I…” She looked almost tearful, suddenly. “Trixie… thank you. Thank you, for her sake. You’re exactly the kind of pony she needs. She’s spent so much of her life giving up things for others; she needs somepony who’ll do the same for her.” She rested a hoof on Trixie’s cheek, and nodded her head towards the pegasus standing close behind them. “She’s waiting for you.”

Trixie nodded. She could not think of anything to say, but she fancied that Rarity understood.

“Not far now…”

Fluttershy giggled, stumbling a little in the cold night air, and bumping up against the unicorn. She did not pull away again, instead leaning against Trixie’s side, half out of a need to support herself, and half from affection. It seemed she was the kind of pony for whom the worst effects of drinking came somewhat delayed; she had not been so ill-coordinated on the dance-floor, nor had her words seemed vaguely slurred.

They had been walking for nearly ten minutes. The pegasus’s cottage was in sight now, and Trixie suppressed a tiny sound of guilty pleasure as Fluttershy began nipping at her neck, and kissing teasingly along the line of her jaw. As the tipsy mare aimed once more for her lips, however, Trixie pulled away as best she could. “Look, Fluttershy…”

Fluttershy looked a little wounded. “Mhm?”

“I…” The unicorn met Fluttershy’s eyes, determinedly. “I don’t want our first time together to be something we’ll both regret.”

“W-what do you mean?”

They had reached the door, and Trixie seized the spare keys magically from beneath a flower-pot by the door. She turned, resting both forehooves on the primrose mare’s shoulders. “Fluttershy, I want this, but…” She sighed, hoping against hope that the pegasus would understand. “The punch was spiked. I… I think some part of you must have known, from the taste, but you didn’t stop because you wanted that courage.”

Trixie had unlocked the door, the key grasped in an absent-minded tendil of magic, and she trotted inside, relinquishing her grip on the pegasus’s shoulders. Fluttershy followed a few steps behind, looking distinctly put out. Swinging the front door shut with her magic, the unicorn turned to face the mare once more, gripping her hoof. “The courage won’t last forever, and I know you… tomorrow morning, you’d feel as if you’d forced yourself on me, and you’d hate yourself for it. I’m not going to be the one to make you feel that guilt.”

Fluttershy leaned forwards, entwining herself around the unicorn once more, and traced the tip of her tongue along Trixie’s neck. “You want me,” she whispered. It was not a question.

The blue mare gritted her teeth, trying to resist the molten sensation bubbling in her veins. “More than anything, but—”

“Then take me,” Fluttershy growled, interrupting the unicorn. She swayed a little as she tried to balance on only three legs, draping the fourth over Trixie’s back.

“You’re so different,” Trixie breathed. If anything, the thought hardened her resolve. “Fluttershy, listen to me. Tomorrow, we can talk about this; we need to talk about it. There are so, so many things I want to tell you. I’ll stay with you, and I’ll love you in any way you’d like, but… right now, you’re not yourself. You’ve got no idea how much I’d love to let you do whatever you want with me, but I can’t. You’re worth so much more to me than one night we’d both regret.” She leaned in, and kissed Fluttershy gently on the cheek, feeling the pegasus’s hard, panting breaths begin to slow a little. “Tomorrow… can you wait for me until tomorrow?”

For a few long moments, there was silence. Then, the rosy-cheeked pegasus nodded, pouting. “You’re so mean,” she mumbled, “but if you…” She hiccoughed again, cutting herself off. “If that’s what you… what you want.” She yawned and pulled away from the embrace, a little sulkily, but not before leaning up and kissing Trixie once, warmly on the lips. The unicorn could not summon the strength of will to resist her.

One foreleg around the pegasus’s shoulder, Trixie guided Fluttershy gently up the stairs. The tipsy mare seemed suddenly half-asleep, and she collapsed into bed, still fully dressed. Trixie was unsure if Rarity would approve of her immaculate and delicate outfit being used as sleepwear, but something told her that helping Fluttershy to undress would be sailing in risky waters once again. Her resolve was not impregnable.

With a glimmer of magical energy, she poured Fluttershy a glass of water from the jug on the bedside table, and hovered it to the supine mare’s lips. “Drink this,” she whispered, climbing under the covers herself. “You’ll thank me for it tomorrow.”

Fluttershy drained the glass with a sleepy mumble of thanks. As Trixie settled back beside the mare, she felt a pair of forelegs wrap closely around her. She looked down a little concernedly at the pegasus, but Fluttershy giggled. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, grinning. “I’ll behave myself.”

Tentatively, feeling the drowsy arms of sleep closing around her as well, Trixie returned the embrace. Cuddling, at least, was something that she could morally rationalize, and Fluttershy’s warm, silken form was a joy to simply hold. Her breath was falling on Trixie’s neck with a pleasant, soporific regularity, and the world began to fade away.

She wondered for a moment how Fluttershy would react to these new developments the next day, and if she would forgive Trixie for failing to resist her earlier overtures. For the briefest of instants, Twilight Sparkle’s face flashed across her memory. The last wonderful, terrible, chaotic half-hour had driven the suddenly-reclusive librarian from Trixie’s mind.

Then, she slipped away, and she worried no more.

Trixie’s mind snapped back to reality, what seemed like an instant later, and for a moment she lay, letting the morning sunshine pound at her eyelids. She had not realized how tiring the previous evening had been; her sleep had been dreamless and seemed nigh-instantaneous.

She shivered, pulling the blankets closer to her body; the morning air was cold.

How could it be cold? The ever-warm Fluttershy was nestled beside her; they had fallen asleep in each other’s hooves. Hadn’t they?

Her eyes snapped open as the previous night’s events came crashing back into place. She was alone in the bed, and the rumpled indentation where Fluttershy had lain was cold, as if it had been deserted for some time.

Stumbling to her hooves, wiping at her eyes and trying to rouse herself, Trixie wove her way across the bedroom, looking down from the window. A fresh dusting of snow had fallen overnight, frosting the windowsill like icing sugar. The house felt very silent; the previous night felt like a dream. She could recall so vividly the warm caress of Fluttershy’s breath, and the sensation of the mare’s tongue tracing the contours of her mouth. She licked her lips, a little dazedly, as if hoping to find some residual taste upon them.

A dead, leaden weight seemed to slide into her stomach as she turned again to stare at the empty, rumpled bed. Turning on an impulse to stare down from the window, she caught sight of a trail of fresh hoof-prints, leading off across the garden, and over the fields.

Would Fluttershy hate her now? No; surely not. The mare had her flaws, but she did not seem capable of genuine hatred. Yet, there was another risk, and somehow it was worse. Would Fluttershy now be too mortified to bear being in Trixie’s company?

Heart hammering, she turned back into the bedroom, looking around for her coat. She knew how Fluttershy would be feeling, and she could not bear to leave the mare in such a state for long. Then, her eyes alighted on the dressing table, upon which lay a single sheet of writing paper.

Picking it up with a flare of magic, she glanced down at the note, feeling her heart sink horribly as her fears were confirmed. Part of the ink had stained and run, as the paper had been struck by what was obviously a falling tear, but the three words were clearly discernible, written in shaky, black letters.

‘I’m so sorry.’