Chapter Three

When Twilight awoke she found herself lying on the carpet of a spacious yet cozy room, her cloak folded around her body like the improvised blanket of a homeless mare. The room was a work of art one could reside in; its careful elegance seemed to mock the shabby figure that was Twilight Sparkle, reminding her of the tangles in her mane, the tatters in her cloak, the general weariness that had invaded her features.

The walls were a deep shade of burgundy and hung with several pictures of Trixie. The lights were so low that Twilight had to squint at them from where she lay.

In one of the photos Trixie was stylishly dressed and shaking hooves with an equally done up Photo Finish. In another she was posing on the deck of a yacht alongside Fancy Pants, shading her brow with a front hoof as she stared of into the distance, apparently at something eye-catching. And in another still, she was standing with the mayor of Ponyville in front of a large dome-shaped structure, which was most likely a theater of some kind. Trixie was using her magic to levitate a giant pair of scissors that were poised to cut a ribbon wrapped about the theater’s entrance.

There were several more pictures like these ones decorating the walls, and Twilight couldn’t help but laugh at them. There was something cartoonish about the photos that made taking them seriously impossible. Twilight thought they looked too obvious. “What does it mean to be successful?” they seemed to ask—and the answer was apparently “being awarded the key to the city,” or “performing for a crowd of sick foals at an orphanage.” For a pony as cunning as Trixie, Twilight was astounded and amused by the performer's staggering lack of creativity. She was also surprised by the absence of photos featuring Trixie’s “best friends.”

Twilight stood up and scanned the walls more thoroughly, suddenly engrossed by the idea of finding a photo of Trixie bird watching with Fluttershy or trying on clothes at a mall with Rarity. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to find such a photograph; perhaps she was looking to for something to smash against the floor as a way of venting her frustration with tonight’s events. Maybe she just needed a distraction. Falling back into Trixie’s forelegs as if nothing had happened was a very stupid thing to do, and Twilight needed to occupy her mind with some task, no matter how minuscule, in order to subvert the cavalcade of self-loathing thoughts now occupying her mind.

Twilight didn’t find any pictures featuring her old friends. Instead, she found a photo of her brother and his wife. In the photograph, Shining Armor was sitting upright in a hospital bed, clasping Cadence’s hoof and putting on a brave face for the pony taking the picture. More than half of that brave face was covered by bandages, concealing an eye that Royal Guard Pony would never see out of again.

A shiver shot thorough Twilight’s spine. She blinked, then turned away and sought out a new distraction.

Meandering about, Twilight noticed a door to an enormous walk-in closet standing ajar. She peered inside the closet and was astonished by the array of stunning dresses and gowns that hung from polished, wheeled racks. She stepped over the threshold and saw that one of the walls was lined with every kind of shoe imaginable: pumps, stilettos, boots—they sat in long rows upon varnished shelves, bearing a strong resemblance, Twilight thought, to trophies of war.

Somehow, this new distraction wasn’t any better than the image of her hospitalized brother.

"All Rarity originals," Trixie's voice was lighter than air as it drifted across the room. “She and Applejack have been funding my tour across Equestria, you know. They’ve been doing so well since you left. All of your friends have.” Trixie was sitting in a simple wooden director’s chair in the far corner of the room, staring at her reflection in an oversized mirror that was set into a gem-encrusted frame. She lifted a brush from off the dresser, removed her hat, and began brushing her silver mane, sighing contentedly.

“You’re saying I held them back?” Twilight answered automatically, only vaguely aware of what she was saying. The merry trill of Trixie’s voice had vexed her for a moment, even as she was responding to it. She had thought she was alone in the room—which she now realized was Trixie’s dressing room.

The purple unicorn withdrew from the closet doorway and faced Trixie’s back, watching the performer’s satisfied reflection in the mirror.

“Please,” Trixie sneered, “Trixie wouldn’t dream of giving you such credit. You never held anypony back. Trixie just used her fame to…elevate her friends. You’ve always had close ties to her majesty. You could have used your influence to do the same whenever you liked,” and there was something “very matter of fact” in Trixie’s tone that angered Twilight. She frowned, mostly because what Trixie said was true.

Since Twilight’s banishment, Trixie had used her new-found knowledge of magic—knowledge that Twilight helped her gain—to transform herself into the celebrity that she was today. Then she used her fame and ubiquitous public presence to elevate each of Twilight’s friends.

She wore Rarity’s designs on stage, and her fans flocked to Carousal Boutique, wanting to dress like their idol. She ate apples grown at Sweet Apple Acres and the masses swarmed, wanting to eat and drink as their hero ate and drank. She told them Pinkie Pie threw the best parties, and now the pink pony hosted balls in Manehattan, Red Carpet Events in Applewood, high-profile wedding receptions in Canterlot. Trixie told them that when she needed a pet-sitter for her owl, Owlicious, there was no pony better for the job than Fluttershy—and now the shy pegasus tended to the flora and the fauna in the royal gardens. She told the Wonderbolts that Rainbow Dash was the greatest flier she had ever seen. And they listened. And they believed.

And finally, she told them that Spike was the most loyal friend a pony could have, and the masses loved him. They loved him simply because he stood beside their idol. Trixie had mastered this place called Equestria, and those closest to her had inherited her riches.

“We don’t see each other as often anymore,” said Trixie. Her ears wilted at her side for a moment, and the hoof that held her brush was still. “But they are… happier now. I’ve made their dreams come true.”

Twilight was taken aback by the pinch of hesitation in Trixie's voice. For the first time that night, the performer sounded unsure of herself.

“I never felt the need to parade my friends to the public,” Twilight snapped, and there was a note of jealous anger in her tone that she couldn’t hide. “But then, parading has always been your way. It’s not enough that go around whoring yourself. You had to go and make whores of my friends as well.”

“Careful, Twilight.” Trixie dropped her brush and spun around to face Twilight, her eyes flashing with indignation. “They are Trixie’s friends now, not yours. You will mind your tone when you speak of them.”

Twilight gauged Trixie’s reaction and was astonished. Truly astonished. “Your friends?” she laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “What goes on in that head of yours, Trixie? You’ve been lying for so long you’re actually starting to believe your own deception.”

Trixie shrugged off Twilight’s assessment. "That’s just bitterness talking, darling,” she said. “It must eat you up inside to know Trixie has been enjoying the company her of  loved ones while you have been alone all this time. No family. No friends. It must be a hard life."

"You would know," quipped Twilight. "It was yours before you stole mine."

Trixie started to shout something venomous, but bit her tongue and held her composure. Twilight's quip had cut her deep, opened old wounds. But more than her words, it was the condescending tone of Twilight's voice that threatened to throw Trixie into a rage.

“That’s what this whole thing has been about,” Twilight continued, finally seizing an opportunity to go on the offensive. “You did this because you were sad and alone. Because you wanted what I had.”

“Trixie did this because you humiliated her!” Trixie shouted, no longer able to control her anger. She rose from her chair like a queen descending her throne and marched across the room toward Twilight.

Good. Twilight had her attention now. She knew what buttons to press, and she pressed them hard.  

“Oh, stop it. Just stop it, Trixie. You sound like a child throwing a tantrum,” Twilight asserted. “You expect me to believe this is over something that happened a decade ago? Because I made you look stupid in front of a bunch of perfect strangers. A bunch of ponies you didn’t know and didn’t care about?”

“You…!” Trixie struggled with her words. It was difficult to focus with Twilight’s condescending gaze boring into her, shrinking her, unraveling her, making her feel small and unsafe. “You always do this! You always make little of Trixie’s feelings! You never take Trixie seriously! Even now that I’ve finally beaten you.”

“You haven’t beaten any—”

“Yes Trixie has!”

Twilight fell silent under the enormity of Trixie’s rage. They were inches apart now; so close that Twilight could feel Trixie’s breath brushing her cheeks all over again.

“Trixie has finally trumped you, but you are too proud to admit it," proclaimed Trixie. "You are too full of yourself to acknowledge the truth.”

“Oh and what ‘truth’ is that, Trixie?” Twilight reared up on her hind legs and crossed her forelegs about her chest. “What does the Great and Powerful Phony know about truth?”

“The truth about Trixie. She’s better than you are. She is no longer your lapdog,” asserted Trixie, her eyes narrowing.

Twilight pulled at her mane and turned her back to the performer. “What are you talking about?” she groaned, all at once exhausted by this conversation. “I did nothing but try to be your friend. I forgave you. I loved you, Trixie.”

“Now who’s the liar?” Trixie turned away as well and returned to her seat, plopping down in the plain chair with equal exhaustion. “You never loved Trixie. Trixie remembers the way you used to shake your head at her. The way you would chide her when she made mistakes. ‘Not like that, Trixie.’ ‘Let me show you, Trixie.’ ‘You’ll never get it right at this rate, Trixie.’ On and on and on—you were relentless.”

“I was tutoring you,” said Twilight. She had wandered to other side of Trixie’s dressing room and was leaning her head against the door, unable and unwilling to face the haughty performer. “I wanted to help. Maybe I was a bit harsh at times, but it worked.” Twilight stopped a moment to choke down a lump in her throat. “You worked hard and you learned so fast. I was…proud of you, Trixie.” Twilight looked over her shoulder, her eyes soft and vulnerable. “I was so proud.”

“Shut up,” Trixie snapped, her bottom lip quivering. Without meaning to, she scooted to the edge of her seat and leaned forward as though she might throw herself across the room and attack Twilight at any moment. “That isn’t true and you know it. You kept Trixie around to make yourself look better. Trixie was a dog to you. A pet you could teach tricks. You never respected her as your equal.” Trixie wiped stinging tears from her face. “But that doesn’t matter now. Trixie has proven herself the better pony. All of Equestria knows it. They love Trixie. They fear Trixie. And they do something you never did, Twilight. They acknowledge Trixie.”

Twilight shook her head and was ashamed for her rival. “You’re right, Trixie. You are a better pony than me—or at least a smarter one. Because I must be an idiot to have believed somepony like you could change. Just look at you,” Twilight said, turning away from the door and pointing an accusing hoof. “Stealing. Lying. Cheating. Denying your own flaws. You’re pathetic. When are you going to admit that this has nothing to with me? You weren’t mad because I upstaged you all those years ago back in Ponyville. You were mad because I had friends that stood beside me instead of you. You want to talk about the truth, Trixie? The truth is that you hated the life you made for yourself, so you used the only things you’ve ever been good at—lies and cheap tricks—to steal mine. You’re phony, Trixie. You were a fake then, and you’re a fake now.”

Low, thought Trixie, brooding quietly in her chair. Bringing up Trixie’s past. Throwing old humiliations in her face. That was low even for the haughty Twilight Sparkle. Little miss perfect. Little miss pure of heart. The natural prodigy. As far as Trixie was concerned, Twilight had never struggled a day in her life. Twilight claimed to be a hard worker, but Trixie new better. She knew how easily Twilight grasped new information, how quickly and effortlessly she absorbed knowledge and mastered spells. After only the first few months of studying under Twilight, it had become clear to Trixie that while she was slaving to wrap her mind around the complexities of the mystic arts, her mentor was breezing through her own studies.

And she never seemed to fail, Trixie noticed, and when she did fail it was never for very long. In any case, Twilight had never known failure as Trixie had. She didn’t know what it was like to be humiliated and ridiculed and laughed at. To speak and not be heard.

Trixie sat silently. She pushed out a slow sigh, leaned back in her chair, and stared up at the ceiling. Trixie was no longer interested in the subject of this conversation. She decided to change it. She was good at changing things. Very, very good.

“She still cries over you, you know,” said Trixie, her tone flat and disengaged. “She isn’t like the others. She’s stronger. Keeping her in check has been…daunting, to say the least.”

Twilight stared quizzically at Trixie.

“She still cries over her prodigal daughter. Her fallen star. Sometimes Trixie stays up all night consoling her. And when she finally cries herself to sleep, Trixie sprinkles a bit enchanted sand over her eyes. And she chants the magic words of Clover's spell. And she makes your beloved Celestia dream about how you betrayed her. All those awful words you didn’t say. All those horrible things you never did.”

Trixie looked down at Twilight, her eyes glistening with dew-like tears. “She calls Trixie her number one student now.” She made no attempt to wipe away these tears. They weren’t bitter like the ones that had stained her cheeks before. They caused her neither pain nor shame. These were tears of joy. Of a victory that was nearly in her grasp. “Your Celestia…she calls Trixie her favorite.”

Twilight was stunned. She leaned her back against the door and slid down the wooden surface, settling in a sitting position. Her mouth worked wordlessly as it searched Trixie’s cozy dressing room for something to say.

In response to Twilight’s silence, Trixie leaned to one side and rested her cheek on an upturned hoof, draped in the veneer of a queen on her throne.

She stared at Twilight and saw the Trixie of a decade passed. She saw the pathetic creature that had been reduced to throwing herself at the hooves of Twilight Sparkle, pleading for forgiveness, begging for a second chance at the happiness her rival had monopolized. Trixie recalled, with grim countenance, the day she had humbled herself and asked Twilight Sparkle for help.

Now it was Twilight’s turn to be humbled. Now it was her turn to beg.

“Get on your knees,” the performer commanded, her posture slack, her voice monotone, her eyes dull with boredom. She was beyond this petty confrontation now. It hadn’t pleased her as she had imagined it would, and now she was done with it. “Beg Trixie for your life back. Take your rightful place at her hooves, and maybe The Great and Powerful Trixie will grant you some small mercy.”

And with that said, Trixie shut her eyes and waited for her victory.

Twilight buried her face in a pair of hooves that were ragged from wandering aimlessly about Equestria, always on the move, always searching, always looking for some way to undo Trixie’s trick. Her cheap trick. That’s all it was. Trixie hadn’t bested her. She hadn’t triumphed over Twilight Sparkle in any way that mattered or counted or proved anything. She cheated.

At first Twilight had devoted all of her energy to discovering the origin of Trixie’s memory-manipulation spell. Twilight knew that if she could discover how Trixie did it, she could undo it. She would thwart the miserable trickster just as she had thwarted all the other villains that had threatened herself and her friends.

But as the years passed—the long lonely years—a bitterness blossomed in Twilight’s heart that distracted her from her original goal. After she “attacked” Celestia, Twilight had become an enemy of the state. She was forced to live in hiding, and whenever she was discovered, she was met with hostility. She had to learn new magic, powerful spells that she could use to protect herself from the bounty hunters, and of course, Celestia’s own Royal Guard. She had even traded blows with her own brother, who had chased her as far as the Badlands south of Dodge City. Theirs had been a terrible struggle. The battle was as long as it was vicious, and though Twilight emerged victorious and in much better condition than her brother, the clash had opened a wound in her spirit that would never heal.

After that her state of mind changed. She kept looking for an answer to Trixie’s trick, but now her focus was split between undoing what the trickster had done, and growing strong enough to crush anypony who sought to impede her. Violence was never her first resort when dealing with opposition, but now it wasn’t her last either.

But Twilight was dealt the worst blow of all on the night she snuck into her own home to comb through her old archives in search of anything she might have missed. And sure enough, there it was: Clover’s memoir, her spell books, her encrypted notes. Everything. Everything Twilight needed to trump Trixie had been right under her nose the entire time. It didn’t make sense that it should be there, but Twilight had been too desperate for an answer to question her good fortune.

Twilight spent the next three years of her life mastering Clover’s spells. She learned how to phase through solid objects, become invisible, temporarily freeze time, fly…the secrets of the mystic arts unraveled before her. Clover had chronicled everything she had learned from her mentor, Starswirl the Bearded, and everything she had learned on her own. Clover had been a pony obsessed with mastering as many spells and gaining as much knowledge as possible—and now so was Twilight. She slaved over those pages for what felt like an eternity, and when she reached their end she had become something akin to her own mentor, Celestia. Something divine and frightening.

But the section of Clover’s notes that held the secrets of the memory-manipulation spell remained a mystery to Twilight. She couldn’t make sense of them. Clover had written them in a language that pre-dated unicorn civilization by several centuries, if not millennia. The meaning of the complex code of runes and detailed illustrated patterns made no sense. She exhausted every resources at her disposal in Equestria, and when her search proved fruitless she left her home country and began scouring the world.

Twilight ventured as far as griffin country in the east, hoping to find a mystic or a cleric who could translate the ancient language.

She broke bread with the witches and the necromancers and the voodoo practitioners of Zebrica. She danced their pagan dances and chanted their mantras.

She journeyed even as far east as Tarandroland, where she, among the witchdoctors of the reindeer tribes, denied Celestia and prayed to idols of stone and wood.

But nothing came of her efforts. No creature versed in the mystic arts—pony or buffalo or zebra or griffin or reindeer—could crack Clover’s code. There was no spell, no curse, no potion, that brought Twilight any closer to understanding those age-old scribbles. Clover had proven herself too clever for Twilight. Too clever for all of the greatest mystics in not only Equestria, but the entire world.

So how did Trixie do it?

How had she succeeded where even Twilight Sparkle, The Element of Magic, had failed countless times? The question plagued Twilight. It kept her up at night. I haunted her. It didn’t make sense…

…It must have been another trick…  

“Another trick…” Twilight muttered into her hooves. That was the only thing that made sense. It had to be another trick; Twilight couldn’t accept it any other way.

Trixie heard the morose pang of defeat in Twilight’s utterance, and grinned inwardly. She rested in her throne and listened as Twilight began sobbing quietly.

“Another…trick…” Twilight muttered again, as if trying to convince herself it was nothing more. Her sob grew into a cry, a loud and terrible lament for the life Trixie had stolen from her. She let her hooves fall to her sides and threw her head back as she stared up at the ceiling and cried.

Trixie listened, smiling at first…and then frowning a moment later. In her zeal to at last lay waste to her foe, Trixie had only imagined that the hollow sound filling her dressing room was a cry. Listening closer now, Trixie realized her mistake.

It was a laugh. After all that had happened, Twilight Sparkle still had the gall to laugh at The Great and Powerful Trixie.

The performer opened her eyes slowly, as if waking from a dream, and found Twilight standing upright on her hind legs, her head throw back in wild laughter. Trixie’s frown deepened. Her gaze fell away from Twilight and landed in her lap. She was past anger now. She was insulted and sad.

“Great and powerful is right,” scoffed Twilight, wiping tears of laughter from her face as she caught her breath. “Come one, come all, and feast your eyes on the Great and Powerful Fraud!” She spread her forelegs toward Trixie in a mocking, grandiose gesture. “Yes come, and watch as she pretends to be the most powerful unicorn in all the land! As she bows and scrapes for your love and admiration!”

Trixie shook her head dejectedly as she rose from her seat. “Unbelievable. You still can’t see Trixie.” The air around her grew warm as she trudged toward Twilight. “Does it really hurt you that much to lose? Is your ego really that small? That frail?”

Twilight returned to all fours, and the room quaked as her hooves touched the floor. “You’re the unbelievable one, Trixie,” said Twilight, stepping forward. “Thinking you could beat me. Thinking I would just let you have what’s mine.”

“Trixie offered to relinquish your friends!” Trixie growled. “Trixie will give them back, but only if you choose to see her! Only if you beg her!” Trixie searched her rival’s face for weakness, for some sign that was ready to break. But there was none. There was nothing but those condescending eyes, shrinking her, unraveling her, making her feel small and unsafe.

“Do you see Trixie, Twilight Sparkle!” Trixie shouted at the top of her lungs. “Do you hear her! She said get down on your knees and beg!”

And in that moment, Twilight was sure beyond any doubt that Trixie meant what she said. There was a passion in the performer’s voice and a mad desperation in her eyes that assured Twilight her life would in fact be returned if only she fell to the floor and groveled for Trixie.

Ten years ago she would have done as Trixie wished. Ten years ago she would have done anything—anything at all—if it meant reclaiming her friends and family. They were more important than her petty feud with Trixie. They were the most important things in her life.

…And yet…here was this other thing that seemed of equal—no—of greater importance. Here was this unstoppable force, this Great and Powerful Trixie, insisting that she yield.  

A decade ago, Twilight Sparkle would have gladly yielded. But not tonight. Too much time had passed. Too many things had happened.

Twilight’s horn ignited, and her enchanted circle of purple light appeared overhead. “You really are pathetic,” she intoned. “And you know what else, Trixie—I never once embarrassed you. You embarrassed me and you continue to embarrass yourself. I tried to teach you real magic, but you still insist on wasting your time prancing about on some stage.”

The curtains ruffled. A fissure appeared in the mirror. The photos fell one by one from the shaking walls, their delicate frames cracking even against the plush carpet.  

“I earned what’s mine through hard work while you did nothing but cut corners,” Twilight bellowed, her voice rippling with anger and pain. “I invented spells while you stole from minds more capable than yours. Great and Powerful,” she scoffed, dismissing Trixie’s self-appointed title with an insulting upward inflection. “Please, when are you going to stop lying to yourself? I’m the great and powerful one. I’m Celestia’s number one pupil. I’m the Element of Magic.”

Twilight stepped closer to Trixie, and when they were again only inches apart, The Element of Magic raised her chin and looked down her nose at the self-proclaimed Great and Powerful Trixie. “I’m Twilight Sparkle,” she declared proudly. “And you... You're just a show pony in a hat and cape.”

“No Trixie isn’t,” mumbled Trixie. She shook her head as if suddenly confused. “No…Trixie isn’t...”

“Yes you are,” said Twilight. Now every word uttered by the purple unicorn seemed to shake not only Trixie’s dressing room, but the entire world the performer had built for herself. The sky was falling and her reality was crumbling around her. “No more lies, Trixie. After tonight there will be no more lies. No more tricks.”

Twilight bore into Trixie with unseeing eyes that had been blinded by anger and hubris. She still couldn’t see Trixie. Well fine then, the performer thought. If Twilight refused to see her—if she was to be denied her true victory—then The Great and Powerful Trixie would have to settle for the next best thing. She looked down at the ground a retreated a few steps, grinning a sad inward grin.

“Oh, but Trixie has one more trick,” she boasted. “She’s saved the very best for last.”

Her horn sparked and the air in the room climbed to blistering temperatures. Then she rose up on her hind legs and spread her forelegs wide, as if addressing a crowd of cheering fans. Her magic circle appeared overhead, and her voice took on a grandiloquent tone as she declaimed:

“Now feast your eyes and prepare to be amazed! For her final trick, The Great and Powerful Trixie is going to make Twilight Sparkle disappear!” Next Chapter: Chapter 4 Estimated time remaining: 9 Minutes