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Mirrors -Epilogue- (finally...)
"Your Highness, it's here. Just like you wanted."
It was finally nightfall in Canterlot. The funeral had ended hours ago.
"Well done," said Celestia on her throne, "Bring it in."
Her guard saluted and gave a sharp whistle. At once, a platoon of muddy royal guards trooped into the throne room. With them however, was a dirty, pink casket. Celestia got up and smiled.
"Leave us," she commanded. The guards obeyed at once.
Celestia circled the casket. So this was the pony who caused so much trouble. This was the pony who came back to haunt her friends. Celestia grinned. That was the whole reason she wanted the casket here. She came back.
Celestia used her magic to lift open the casket's cover. Inside laid a bright pink pony. Her front hooves were placed above her chest. She wore a content look of peace of her face. If it weren't for the fact that the pony was missing everything from the chest down, She would've looked like she was sleeping and e
NOTE: This short story is written around a song by Makkon06, please read the description to listen to the song before or during the story, as it was written with that song as the focus.
"Trixie, you are a talent." The Great and Powerful Trixie closed the door to her trailer behind her. She had just finished another show in Trottingham, and it had gone over spectacularly. She sat down in front of her mirror and removed her hat and cloak.
Those were her most prized and most beloved treasures, under them she was somepony great, somepony that everyone wanted to see and laugh with and be amazed by. She felt invincible under that hat, like she could take on the world, but more importantly, she felt something else under that hat and cloak.
She felt loved.
Trixie went over to her gramophone, another of her prized possessions. It was one of the few things she always took with her on her travels as she roamed Equestria, a restless soul looking for a place to find love.
Slow music started
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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