In Her Blood
Chapter 16: XVI: The Recluse
Previous ChapterIn Her Blood
Ardensfax
Chapter Sixteen
The Recluse
The air was filled with the gentle hubbub of a town winding down for the evening.
Fluttershy made her slow progress through the outskirts, bound for Ponyville library. The streets were sparsely populated in weather such as this, freeing her from the usual worry that tugged at her whenever she tried to navigate a crowd, leaving her mind to wander.
Lunch with her two friends had gone well enough; conversation between Trixie and Dash had been a little too polite and carefully measured to feel entirely at ease, but the mares seemed to have established a tentative understanding. It could not be called a friendship yet, but it would suffice for the moment. It had been with a sense of relieved satisfaction that Fluttershy had waved the pink and cyan couple off down the garden path.
Of course, Trixie had wanted to accompany Fluttershy to the library, but the pegasus had convinced her to remain behind. She had pointed out that, if Twilight truly was hiding away to avoid a confrontation with the former showmare, it would be nigh-impossible to coax her out if the object of her fear was standing on her doorstep. It was undoubtedly best for Fluttershy to act as a go-between for this first contact; Trixie had been able to see the logic in that decision, and agreed to remain behind.
Deep down though, Fluttershy knew that they were wrong. Something did not add up. She could not ignore the fact that there was no conceivable reason for Twilight to be afraid of Trixie. In terms of magic, pitting the mares against one another would be akin to pitting a match against a fire-hose, and Twilight surely knew it. She had nothing to fear from Trixie, unless perhaps she was afraid of becoming embroiled in a public confrontation. That could conceivably be the solution; Twilight had certainly been reluctant to display her power the last time the two mares had met.
And yet, something still seemed not to add up. After a further moment of circular pondering, Fluttershy shook her head, dismissing the thought. After all, Twilight was not always the most rational of ponies, and in any case, the pegasus was finding it a little hard to concentrate on solving problems at that particular moment.
This was the first time that she had been alone with her thoughts since the hilltop rendezvous between her and Trixie that morning. Now her thoughts were not hazed by the unicorn’s proximity, the magnitude of what she had done was sinking in. She did not for one second regret their time together, but it was only now she truly realised the degree to which she had bypassed her natural barriers of timidity and romantic inexperience.
In the past, when she had caught herself thinking of such things, she had instinctually imagined the loss of her virginity as something that would weigh her down, and somehow leave her intrinsically lessened. In truth, however, applying the word ‘loss’ to those timeless hours on that warm, wintry hilltop seemed utterly erroneous. More than the physical pleasure, the knowledge that she had found a pony she trusted so implicitly, a pony with whom she could unabashedly share such intimacies, lent her a sense of deepest contentment. That was not, of course, to say the pleasure was insignificant; she felt a tiny shiver chase along her spine at the delectable choice of memories, and smiled to herself. She could get used to such treatment, and looked forward immensely to learning on a first-hoof basis how she might reciprocate.
She realised her face was a little red, and looked around nervously, her shyness reclaiming her in an instant. Fortunately, nopony was looking her way as she approached the library, and the evening half-light meant that the heat in her cheeks would not be unduly visible.
Twilight’s book on cutie mark theory lay in her saddlebags; peruse it as she might, she knew perfectly well that the solution to Trixie’s difficulties would not be found within its pages. She had tried to plough through the impenetrable chapters full of genetic diagrams and probability theory, but she was quite aware that her marefriend’s problem was far less fundamental. It was more a matter of symbolism than mechanics, but the connection between a mark’s symbols and their meaning still seemed all too elusive.
She looked up as the library’s shadow fell across her face, blotting out the falling sun. She took a deep breath; for some reason, she felt a little nervous. Raising a determined hoof nevertheless, she knocked three times on the front door.
For several long moments, she waited. No reply came.
After almost a minute, Fluttershy could no longer pretend to herself that Twilight was on her way. She had just raised a hoof to knock again, when a thought occurred to her. This was a public library; surely she could just walk in.
She gave the door an experimental push. It remained obstinately shut, quite clearly locked from the inside.
Fluttershy snorted. Unlike Rarity, she was not simply going to walk away. Without Spike to talk her out of whatever was going on in her head, Twilight could all too easily be a danger to herself. She knocked again, louder this time.
She did not want to fly up to the unicorn’s window; no matter how often Rainbow Dash used it as a means of entrance, it still felt like an unforgivable breach of privacy. Unfortunately, it was beginning to look as if she had no other option. She ground her teeth, resolving to make one more attempt. She knocked one final time, and this time, she called out. “Twilight, let me in! It’s Fluttershy, and if you don’t open this door I’m writing to—” She broke off. It was an empty threat; without Spike, she would have to contact Celestia via the regular postal service, and goodness only knew how many ordinary letters and petitions the Princess had to plough through each day. However, it seemed not to matter.
At the sound of her voice, there had been a sudden sound of activity from behind the door, as if somepony had pulled themselves up from a seat. There came the sound of trudging hooves, accompanied by a bolt being magically withdrawn.
The door swung open to reveal a somewhat careworn-looking Twilight. Her eyes widened at the sight of her friend. “Fluttershy! Celestia, I… I thought you were Rarity again.” Her voice sounded almost rusty, as if she had not used it in days.
Fluttershy’s first instinct, strangely enough, was one of relief. She had half expected to be greeted by the staring, frazzle-maned creature who had caused so much damage in the past; compared to that figure, this Twilight was a great improvement.
That was not to say that she looked well; her eyes were a little puffy and red, as if from tears or a lack of sleep. Her mane was not its usual sleek, glossy self, although it seemed that was more down to a lack of brushing than anything particularly sinister. Her expression was a bizarre mixture of contrition, nervousness and calculation.
“What do you mean?” Fluttershy asked, recovering herself a little. “Why don’t you want to see Rarity? Twilight, what’s going on? Why’ve you been…?” Her voice tailed away, and the sudden fusillade of questions petered out. She swallowed. “Uh… sorry. Can… can I come in?”
The unicorn nodded with a small sigh. “Sure,” she mumbled, jerking her head and moving out of the way to allow Fluttershy entry.
The primrose mare trotted inside, looking around at the library. Without Spike, the place was far from its usual self. The coffee table was strewn with books, and the shelves were rather less immaculately organised than usual. Judging by the mixture of scientific equipment and half-read tomes scattered about the room, the place felt like the haunt of somepony who had attempted to distract herself with anything and everything, to no avail. The tawdry collection of newspaper clippings and pictures of Trixie still lay upon a coffee table, but they had been half-obscured beneath a stack of newspapers, apparently thrown down in anger.
Twilight gestured to the sofa. Fluttershy deposited her scarf on the coat-stand and sat down, looking from library to librarian with an expression of concern. This was not time for pleasantries or small talk. She swallowed, repressing her social anxiety as best she could.
“Twilight, what’s… what’s the matter? Why’re you shut up in here?”
The unicorn did not reply immediately. Instead, she trotted across and curled up on the sofa at Fluttershy’s side, apparently thinking of how best to frame her answer. She met Fluttershy’s eyes for a second, but looked away quickly, the bridge of her nose colouring slightly.
“We’ve all been so worried,” pressed Fluttershy. “I… You know you can always talk to us, right?”
Twilight let out a low sigh. When she spoke, her voice sounded a little mechanical, as if her words had been chosen with great care. “It’s just… It’s everything, right now.” She shrugged. “You know, I’m worried about Spike, and without him… I’m trying to keep the place in check, and keep up with my studies. It all gets a bit much.”
Fluttershy nodded in sympathy, but could not suppress a sense that the librarian was not telling her the whole truth. “But… why’ve you been shut up like this? You know we’d help you keep the library in order; you only need to ask, but it’s like you’ve been avoiding us.” She met Twilight’s eyes. “Why didn’t you want to let Rarity in?”
Twilight closed her eyes for a second, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Rarity kept knocking on the door yesterday,” she mumbled. “I didn’t really want to speak to anypony, and when I heard you knocking, I guessed it’d be her again.”
“But… but you let me in?”
The unicorn inclined her head a little, breaking eye contact, but made no reply.
“Twilight.” Fluttershy’s voice was infused with a little of the persuasive sternness that she applied when coaxing some sick animal into taking a drink of water. “You’ve not been yourself for a while now; ever since Trixie came back, you’ve been hiding away from everypony. I don’t know exactly what it is you’re hiding from, but… something’s wrong, and I just wish you’d trust us with it.”
At the sound of the former showmare’s name, Twilight’s ears flattened slightly. “It isn’t about trust,” she mumbled indistinctly.
“Are… are you afraid of her?” Fluttershy asked gently. “You said you didn’t want revenge, but if it’s something else… I don’t want you to be scared. She’s different now; she’s a completely different—”
“Don’t!” Twilight’s voice broke, and it sounded as if the sharp interjection had slipped out quite by mistake. She fell silent again, choking back a sob. “Don’t tell me that! Don’t tell me she’s different now!”
“But it’s tr—”
“I know it’s true!” Twilight’s horn flared involuntarily, her shout shuddering and echoing with an unnatural volume around the library.
Fluttershy felt a squeak escape her, and she retreated impulsively behind her mane, shrinking back on the couch.
For a few long, billowing moments, silence fell between the mares.
“What’s wrong with you?” Fluttershy whispered the words, her voice small and frightened. She knew how accusatory the words sounded, but did not care; perhaps a harsher approach would shake Twilight from this illogical, fractured state of mind. Fluttershy’s thoughts spun in ever-decreasing circles as she grappled with the situation, but still she did not understand. Twilight gazed tearfully down at the rug, clearly repentant of her outburst. “Why shut us out like this?” Fluttershy stood, standing before the unicorn, denying her the reprieve of looking away. “How are we supposed to help you if you won’t tell us what’s wrong, Twilight?” Leaning down, she gripped her friend by the shoulders. “What’s going on?”
Silence fell again. A tear detached itself from Twilight’s eyelash, dropping into her lap. The unicorn sniffed, her snout glistening. With unnecessary magical force, she seized a tissue from a nearby box and blew her nose.
It’s too late. You left her too long.
“I…” Twilight swallowed. Suddenly, she leaned forwards, leaning her head in close to Fluttershy’s ear. The pegasus stiffened, unsure of what to expect. “I don’t want her to be different,” Twilight breathed, her voice shaking a little.
Oh.
The words seemed to hang in the air, their implication seeming to settle like snow upon every surface.
Celestia, I’ve been stupid.
“I want her to be just l-like she was,” Twilight whispered, leaning back a little and gazing, watery-eyed, at the pegasus. “I… I c-can trust you, can’t I, Fluttershy?”
“Of course you can.” Fluttershy’s lips moulded the words automatically but her brain felt miles away, scarcely comprehending what she knew, now, to be the truth. She could never have expected this. Perhaps it was just the natural jealous urge of a challenged romantic partner, but a rumble of anger sparked in the pit of her stomach.
“After she left, I always worried about her.” Twilight rested a hoof on Fluttershy’s shoulder, guiding her to sit at her side again. The pegasus joined her friend on the sofa a little reluctantly. “I… I thought she was lost, or dead, or goodness-knows-what else. I knew what she’d done, I just kept thinking about the way she acted. All of that arrogance…” Twilight’s eyes seemed to glint, the expression of burned-out tiredness slipping slowly from her features. “That confidence… there was just something.” She bit her lip, leaning a little closer to the pegasus. Their coats brushed lightly together as Twilight shifted her position. Fluttershy felt nothing; in truth, she had no idea what to feel. The atmosphere was surreal and dreamlike; the situation’s reality had not yet sunk in.
“But it was only words,” Fluttershy said quietly, her voice toneless. “It was only ever boasts, you were so much stronger than her.”
“But she could have made me feel so helpless if she’d wanted to,” pressed Twilight. “The words were all that mattered; she knew just how to play with power. I just wanted to submit to her, to let her drag me through the dirt…” She shivered a little, meeting Fluttershy’s gaze more intently. “I tried to forget that voice, but then… then the dreams started.” The unicorn bit her lip, a faint flush rising beneath her fur as she leaned still closer. “It all trickled back; the way she used to sneer, the way she could humiliate so easily… ohh… She could wrap me around her hoof and make me beg.” By the last word, Twilight was practically pressed up against Fluttershy, who felt her cheeks burning with a mixture of shock, anger and sheer embarrassment. She did not want to hear this. She had not the faintest desire to hear her friend’s fantasies exposed in such a lurid manner, least of all when they revolved around a mare she had grown to love and protect.
“Twilight, stop!” With a forceful sweep of both wings, Fluttershy pushed the unicorn away from her. The charged, unpleasant atmosphere splintered, and Twilight fell back against the back of the sofa, blushing to her ears, her expression shamefaced. The manic glint in her eyes had lessened. A deeply uncomfortable silence fell between the two friends. “I… I don’t even know where to start,” Fluttershy mumbled at length. “This is why you’ve been shutting yourself away ever since she showed up again?” She shook her head despairingly, flopping back against the cushions with a sigh. “It was an act, Twilight. It was just an act that went too far.”
“Of course it was an act, do you think I didn’t know that?” Twilight let out a small groan. “But I could tell a little part of her believed it, and that’s what made her so exciting. When she looked at me, I just knew; I knew she understood what I wanted. Of course, she never came close to me magically, but isn’t that the whole point of sharing fantasies and playing roles? They don’t need to be real; they just need to be…” She tailed away, obviously afraid of sailing back into treacherous waters.
Fluttershy swallowed. It was not so much her friend’s hitherto-concealed proclivities that unsettled her, but the way they had fixated upon Trixie’s former self. In truth, it would not have surprised her if the Great and Powerful Trixie, with her domineering and arrogant nature, had been quite amenable to Twilight’s desires. Fluttershy knew from her more adventurous literary forays the enjoyment some couples found in acting out certain roles, but the Great and Powerful Trixie had gone so far beyond such a superficial, playful act. Knowing the parasitic, cancerous nature of the personality that had grown to define Trixie, the thought of Twilight perceiving it in such a way made Fluttershy’s skin crawl. “Why didn’t you tell us you… you felt like that about her?”
Twilight raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I never thought I’d see her again, so what did it matter?” She bit her lip again, although this time the gesture was one of nervousness rather than desire. “Besides, would you have told anypony if you had these sorts of… urges? Look at how you reacted,” she gestured at Fluttershy with a forehoof, “you’re disgusted, I can tell.”
“No I’m not, Twilight,” Fluttershy replied calmly. Her ears were a burning pink at discussing such matters, but she knew she must set her friend’s mind at rest. Somehow, after what she had shared with Trixie earlier that day, intimacy no longer represented something veiled, indistinct and frightening. Under the warming light of new experience, it seemed easier to openly discuss, in some small way. “It doesn’t matter to me what you like, so long as it doesn’t hurt anypony. You should hear about some of the things Rarity gets up to behind closed doors.” She could have sworn that Twilight’s lips twitched a little. “I don’t think any the less of her, and I don’t think any the less of you. So you can stop worrying about that for a start. Alright?” Her tone was soft and coaxing, the voice she often applied to persuade an uncooperative Angel.
Slowly, Twilight met her eyes, looking for all the world like a filly caught in some petty wrongdoing. “I’m not disgusted, Twilight,” Fluttershy continued. “I’m just… it’s a shock, to hear you’re directing all of this onto Trixie, of all ponies. You need to understand her personality back then… well, it went a little beyond role-playing.”
A nagging concern had begun to grow in the back of Fluttershy’s mind; she decided not to mention her own relationship with Trixie, at least for the moment. She had a feeling to do so would not be at all wise.
The unicorn mumbled something, her voice so soft that the words were lost.
“I’m sorry?” Fluttershy leaned forwards a little.
Twilight sniffed, blinking hard. “I said it’s not fair.”
Almost against her will, Fluttershy’s eyebrows raised with a mixture of surprise and exasperation at the petulant little phrase. “Not fair? What’s not fair?”
“I’d accepted it, Fluttershy.” Twilight got to her hooves and strode across the room, sweeping aside the newspaper covering Trixie’s press cuttings with a ripple of magic. She seized a photograph of the showmare’s smirking face, holding it aloft in a purple aura. “The dreams didn’t stop, but I’d accepted that I wouldn’t see her again. Maybe believing she was dead made it easier, I don’t know.” She turned to face Fluttershy, her magical grip failing, letting the picture fall to the floorboards. “Then she came back. She came back, and she’s different, and now I’ve got to look at that face and know that the Trixie I want is gone, and… and it’s just not fair!”
Fluttershy also got to her hooves, wings flaring in frustration. “The Trixie you want?” She took a step towards Twilight. “What about the Trixie that Trixie wants? Or doesn’t that matter to you?” The pegasus shook her head, the momentary anger draining from her voice as her wings fell limply to her sides. “Twilight, this isn’t you. You’d never be talking like this if you hadn’t gotten yourself in such a state, but right now you need to listen to me.” She touched Twilight’s shoulder, coaxing the mare to meet her eyes again. “You can’t force ponies to change, no matter how much you want them to. I’m sorry, but she’s different now. She’s better now, and you can’t change that.”
For a moment, silence fell between the mares. Twilight’s eyes widened and she seemed to catch her breath. The expression sent a bolt of fear through Fluttershy’s chest, although she could not readily tell what Twilight was thinking. It did not appear to be a look of contrition or some sudden understanding. Indeed, Fluttershy could have sworn that it resembled an instant of inspiration.
Then, the unicorn’s expression suddenly clouded. “You could.”
Fluttershy recoiled a little, her natural timidity shrinking back from the sudden aggression. “I… I could what?”
“Change her. You’ve been keeping her shut up in your house, haven’t you?” Twilight’s tone was level, although her eyes betrayed her anger. “It’s no big surprise she’s all sweetness and light now, is it?” She snorted. “Okay sure, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you took her in and made her better, just like you always do. I’m sure you brought out her good side and taught her all about kindness, and made her so much less interesting…” Her words tailed away in a frustrated sigh.
Fluttershy could barely speak; she felt as if she had been slapped across the face. “Twilight, I… Oh Celestia, that doesn’t even begin to make sense!” she spluttered. Twilight bridled indignantly, but the pegasus ploughed on. “I already told you, she was different when she first showed up at my house! Her stage persona had become so much more than that, it had started to take over her real self, but I didn’t stop it. By the time I took her in, it had all gone wrong already in Ponyville, all that time ago. She hadn’t believed her own act for over a year, I had nothing to do with it!” She groaned, a pulsing headache beginning to gnaw at the back of her skull. “All I did was nurse her back to health,” she explained in a slow, weary voice. “She did the rest herself, okay? Do you understand now?” She had not intended to let slip that last, confrontational sentence, but it escaped on the rising tide of anger, frustration and tiredness in her chest.
A fresh silence fell between them. Twilight seemed to be weighing up her options, her expression growing, once again, impassive.
Then, the unicorn shook her head, a few locks of hair falling over her eyes. “Oh Celestia, you’re right…” She gave a low sigh, composing herself. “You’re right, Fluttershy. It wasn’t your fault. I’m… I’m sorry.”
Fluttershy’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced by the apology. “Not my fault? What do you mean by that?”
Twilight shied away from the sharp question. “I just mean you didn’t change her.” She licked her lips nervously. “I know she changed herself, I was being silly.”
The pegasus took a step forwards, refusing to let the point drop. “So if I had changed her, that would have been my ‘fault’? If I’d been the one to destroy her old self, to give her a chance to live a proper, fulfilled life, that would have been wrong of me, would it?”
“Look, all I’m saying is that I saw her up on that stage, and sure, she was arrogant, but she looked happy enough to me.” Twilight raised a conciliatory hoof, quailing slightly under Fluttershy’s furious expression, but soldiering on regardless. “I get it. We all like to think that, deep down, everypony’s nice and normal. But look at Dash: she’s hardly self-effacing, is she? How can you know for sure that this new Trixie is the genuine Trixie? How can you be certain she isn’t actually repressing her real self?”
Fluttershy turned away, gripped by a sudden urge to march out of the door and leave without a backward glance. To hear one of her best friends speaking in such a selfish, illogical manner was all but unbearable. “Can you even hear yourself, Twilight?” She asked, forcing her voice to remain steady and her hooves to remain in place on the rug.
Twilight shrugged. “You keep telling me this is her real self, but I’ve only got your word to go on. Sometimes ponies make mistakes, and let’s face it; you like nice, kind, altruistic ponies. Of course you’d want to believe that this new Trixie is her real self. I’m just saying… maybe there’s a little bit of confirmation bias happening here?”
The pegasus whipped around, infuriated as much by Twilight calm, explanatory tone as by her words. Her wings flared with a sudden aggression. “Confirmation bias?” Her raised voice echoed off the walls. “Are you telling me you aren’t biased, Twilight? Really?” She darted forwards and prodded the unicorn in the chest with a forehoof. “I want her to be this way because it’s best for her! It’s her only chance for a normal, stable, happy life. You want to drag all that away from her so you can… what, exactly? So you can indulge your little fantasies? So you can get off on her humiliating you?” Her cheeks glowed pink at uttering such a vulgar accusation, but blunt directness seemed the only approach left to her. She leveled her most disappointed stare against the unicorn. “I’d never have thought you could be so selfish, Twilight.”
Another silence fell between the mares, one that was both long and deeply uncomfortable. Both were blushing deeply, Fluttershy at the strength of her own admonition, Twilight with apparent shame.
Then, the unicorn groaned, letting her head slump. “I’m sorry, Fluttershy.” Her voice sounded muffled with tears. “Oh Celestia, you’re right. I’m sorry for making you listen to that. I… I need to think about this.” With a pulse of magical energy, she haphazardly stacked Trixie’s press cuttings into an open box folder, slamming the lid shut.
She looked up, meeting her friend’s eyes almost pleadingly. Some other emotion flickered in her gaze, and Fluttershy felt a fresh pang of concern. “I just need a few days to get this all straight in my head. Ugh…” The beleaguered sound slipped from Twilight’s lips; the mare suddenly looked rather tired. “Thanks for coming over, it’s…” Her ear twitched a little, a compulsive tick running the length of her neck for a brief moment. “It’s made things a lot… clearer. I just need some thinking time.”
Fluttershy did not move for a moment. Some part of her still felt uneasy; she could not fathom whether or not she had actually convinced the unicorn. Certainly her argument had made Twilight stop and listen, but beyond that she could not say. Nevertheless, she recognised the dismissal, and her intuition told her that to linger would only make things worse. Perhaps some downtime and an opportunity to think was exactly what the mare needed. “Oh… okay,” Fluttershy mumbled, her shyness getting the better of her once again, overtaking her brief spell of forthright courage.
She rested a foreleg soothingly on Twilight’s shoulder. “We’re all here for you,” she promised, her voice gentle again. “If you need to think then that’s fine, but please don’t lock yourself away for much longer. We’re all just around the corner if you need to talk, and none of us think any the worse of you for this.”
Is that true?
She quelled the acerbic little thought. Of course I’m disappointed in her, but it doesn’t really matter if it’s true; what matters is that she believes it. A pang of guilt contracted in her chest as she recovered her scarf from the coat-stand. If only I’d come here sooner… this is my fault as much as anypony’s.
Twilight nodded slowly, smiling a small, slightly unconvincing smile. “Thanks, Fluttershy.” At last, she met her friend’s eyes. “I’ll be okay, I just need a little time.”
Something in the unicorn’s voice was a little too measured, a little too mechanical to be quite convincing. Fluttershy felt a pang of unease at leaving her in such a state, but could see no way to stay. Perhaps Twilight would be able to work this through herself, Fluttershy reflected, now she had been given the chance to share her concealed urges and grievances with a trusted ear.
Ever the optimist, aren’t you?
The mares shared a cursory farewell, Fluttershy murmuring a few last words of reassurance, and then she had stepped out into the snow and bitter chill of Ponyville’s streets.
She’ll be okay, Fluttershy told herself firmly, chancing one last glance back at Twilight’s carefully-composed face. At any rate, she now knew what was wrong with the unicorn, unpleasant though that knowledge may be. Perhaps Twilight really would be able to come to terms with the scenario in which she found herself, even without the help of her friends. Behind her, the door shut with a small click, and the warm glow of the library was snuffed out, leaving the pegasus alone under the icy glow of the streetlamps.
Surely, there was nothing more she could do.
In any case, Fluttershy reassured herself as she trudged off into the snow, at least the situation was now under control.
Had she seen the expression on Twilight’s face as she bolted the door, however, she may have understood how very wrong she was.