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The crystal caverns beneath Canterlot Castle were, to the minds of most, little more than a historical curiosity. Any schoolfoal had probably been present one time or another, walked through the mines and through the hollowed-out rock corridors, and heard a few stock stories of the lives that had once been lived miles below the high-rise apartments and great mansions of today's Equestrian elite. Old faded photographs of stallions and mares, faces covered in pink-purple dust, showed glimpses into the creation of some of Equestria's most iconic monuments. Some even showed fillies or colts, younger than the ones on the school trip, proudly grinning into the camera along with their parents.

A local tour guide would walk them through the halls, past century old equipment and glass cases containing recreations of the four-to-a-room sleeping quarters or small, single-room schoolhouses, where wood mannequins in period dress froze in the act of carrying out daily business. They would hear about the sheer scale of the project, the thousands of ponies who had lived and died below the ground, and foals who never saw the sun until adulthood. The caves held deep shadows, despite the best efforts of the sun's princess, who took regular trips below ground to visit, taking glowing orbs of captured sunlight and seeking to make the time belowground as pleasant as she could, even picking up a pickaxe herself if her duties allowed.

They would hear the stories, see the recreations of daily life, and even hold period accurate recreations of the equipment or try on the clothes. Although, few really bothered to think about what life was like in the tunnels. To most of Equestria, the old mines were divided into two parts: living quarters and workspace.

It didn't occur to them to think about the implications of an entire underground city. Part of the reason the workforce was so massive had been the insistence of Equestria's two princesses that no pony be expected to work more than 6 hours in a day, and that they must be permitted to recover for two days. Anyone who doubted how important the project had been in Equestria's history need only look at their calendars to see its effect, and the two days still referred to the way they had been in the caves. The day of the sun, and the day of the moon. Or, as more commonly pronounced after years of speech, "Sunday," and "Monday." The more attentive or depending on your point of view, insufferable students, would point out that the last work day would be dedicated to preparing the other five day's products by crushing the massive gems, "The Day of Shattering," or subjected to the rigors of speech, "Saturday."

What even the most attentive ones, bothered to consider was what would be DONE on the days gifted by the Sun and the Moon. Where the ponies would relax. An entire industry had grown up in the mines, made up not of miners, but of shopkeepers, manecutters, restaurateurs, personal trainers, professional lovers, and all the other ponies who found work providing for others the things they could not, would not, or simply at that particular moment were uninterested in, providing for themselves.

It was in one of these old caves, that had centuries ago been a personal gym, that Twilight and Trixie stood. Unicorn magic had been used to restore rotted wood and tattered canvas to a fully functional boxing ring. In order to ensure the battle would be kept to their bodies, the gloves were not the traditional leather, but solidified magic, so that all their spell work had to go into maintaining the gloves, rather than acquiring an unearned advantage.

Twilight Sparkle had read up the rules of boxing in preparation for the match and insisted on everything being perfect. The match might be private, but the decision to make it boxing had not been an entirely idle one. It was one of Equestria's oldest sports, and what better place for two of Equestria's greatest magic users to engage in it than in Equestria's oldest boxing ring? She wanted it to be perfect, appropriate to the occasion, and so her gloves had a little less strong of an aura. Trixie herself had an annoyed look on her face, as a mystic replica referee explained the rules.

"No hitting below the belt, no kidney shots, no thumbing eyes or anything else, I want a good clean match, understood?" The effort of maintaining both gloves and an illusion kept the voice far away. Twilight nodded, and her horn glowed a bit brighter as the ref turned his face to Trixie. "Understood?"

Trixie rolled her purple eyes, "Yes, I understand."

The ref vanished, her gloves solidified, and Twilight nodded, "Good because I wasn't going to be able to keep that up." She extended her gloves for the blue unicorn to touch, a show of respect to begin the match.

Trixie looked down at the glowing gloves... And decided not to bother with the niceties, throwing an overhand straight punch to Twilight's face instead, and relishing a little in the very brief look of surprise as the glove sailed over the lowered gloves and rocked into the purple mare's muzzle.

Twilight reeled back from the blow, surprised by the sudden strike, and the display of poor sportsmanship from the blue mare. They'd AGREED to the match, after all, if Trixie just wanted to hurt her she could jump her while she was out for a walk. Her confusion at the attack came from more than the rocking of her head and the stars in front of her eyes, as she shook off the shock and stared back over her gloves. Trixie flashed her a winning smile.

"Don't do that," Twilight glared.

"Do what?" Trixie asked, "I'm sorry, did I miss the part where I wasn't allowed to punch in boxing?"

"It's not fair," Twilight explained.

"I'm sorry, Twilight. In that case, you're the one who missed the part where you expect Trixie to play fair," she raised her hands to her face, "Trixie doesn't fight fairly, she fights victoriously. You can keep your honor, but you'll give me a victory."

Twilight's face flushed in frustration at her opponent's words. It wasn't that they were untrue, exactly, it was just another reminder of exactly why she wanted to get into such a brutal battle with the other mare to begin with. She stepped forward, and Trixie instinctively raised her gloves. It was what Twilight had been looking for, and she struck like a snake, driving her glove into the sky-blue mare's soft breast.

"AHHHH~!" Trixie cried out as the magic-made leather sunk deep into her chest, sending her stumbling backward from the blow, a slight hint of pleasure in her slack jaw in addition to the agony.

"Why you li-AHHH!" Trixie gasped again as Twilight stepped in once more, and began to pepper her with blows. The blue mare was clearly skilled enough in combat to deflect at least a significant minority of the strikes, but unlike Twilight, she hadn't bothered learning the proper technique or strategy for the fight. Twilight, though, had come prepared, she'd learned how to properly execute feints and slip guards, to make sure that her opponent, however skilled she may be in a standard brawl, would be helpless against the flurry of jabs and quick strikes. Some of the blows were being dodged or deflected, but she'd spent enough time on a speed bag that even if half her shots missed, more than enough would get through that it didn't matter. Trixie was reeling, reacting rather than acting, and making sure that happened was the essence of the sweet science, a name that, as much as Twily was enjoying bashing her rival around, really should probably have been applied to the creation of artificial sugars rather than the ability to slam a glove into another pony's body.

Light gasps and groans came along with the low smacks as her gloves crushed into Trixie's form. Making them out of magic rather than leather was a little more psychological exertion, but it was worth it to feel the ripples of flesh against her fist, the way tense abs would be beaten loose, and the other woman's skin slowly grew slicker and slicker from sweat. Both mares in the ring could see that Twilight was in control, and Trixie, if she wanted a chance, would have to find a way to stop the assault. Twilight's blows came too fast to be given a proper response, or really any response at all, other than the gasps and attempts to back away. Twilight was the superior boxer.

Trixie, though, was still the superior cheater. She might not have been able to bob and weave like Marehammed Ali, but she could certainly bend rules like Mike Trotson. Rather than retreat, the sham showpony stepped forward, her hoof crushing right at the bend of Twilight's ankle, jolting pain through her body. Twilight cried out and instinctively stumbled closer to Trixie from the shock, only to feel a heavy blow slam into the side of her head like swung cinder block. Already off balance, the purple pony fell to the ground, the weight graciously lifted from her leg just a second too late to avoid the inherent agony of falling to the side with your foot held in one place, twisting her ankle with her bodyweight, then being freed to collapse flat on the mat, a high ringing sound in her ears.

The ringing evolved into laughter as she tried to recover, holding her gloves on the ground and bringing herself up to one knee.

"Oh, dear, was that my fault~?" Trixie asked, laughter in her voice as Twilight tried to shake off the blow, shaking out her short purple mane, and watching sparks fall to the ground. A unicorn or alicorn could maintain her horn's effects for a few minutes even if knocked unconscious, and both of these mares were good enough to know the necessary tricks. Despite that, it was hard to do anything with your ears ringing and the world rocking like a boat, and a few sparks hitting the mat was a miracle considering the alternative.

Trixie must have known there was no way Twilight would go down for good so early in the match since she wasn't even bothering to count while Twilight tried to force herself back to her feet. Her ankle ached from the attempt to support her weight, but Twilight was recovering and had her eyes set on the smug mare.

"That was cheating," she said simply, "You stepped on my ankle and hit around my back."

"Oh, was it?" Trixie asked, "I'm sorry, Twilight, I was just trying to get close enough for a good hook, I didn't mean to put my foot there. You can hardly blame me for the punch, though, you're the one who leaned in, and I stepped back as soon as I realized what I'd done."

They both knew it was a lie, but Twilight could hardly prove it, and everything Trixie said had enough of a semblance of truth that she couldn't justify bringing this long-awaited battle to an early end. She simply shook her head and tested her weight on the ankle again. "You won't mind, then," she smiled, "if I tape the ankle back up? To make things fair. You know," her eyes narrowed, "if you didn't mean to hurt me."

Only someone as acquainted with the blue magic-mare as Twilight was would have been able to detect the slight flare of her nostrils at a ruse being prevented and having no way to get the goal. It was only a flash of her true feelings, though, and her voice soon returned to its normal, sickly sweet tone.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Twilight," Trixie answered, "I would be heartbroken to think that I had gained such an unearned advantage." Her tone, though, told a much different story. Twilight nodded, and her horn glowed a little more, and the glow of her gloves faded slightly as old first-aid kit being restored and having its bandages removed and wrapped around Twilight's ankle, giving her the support she would need to nullify the pain. She didn't take her eyes off her opponent for even a second, wrapping herself without looking.

"One little point though," Trixie's voice was upbeat once more, "I just wanted to remind you of an old saying. It IS only cheating if you get caught, so no ref," she gave a wicked smile, "no rules." She stepped in, delivering a heavy overhand blow between the eyes as Twilight finished wrapping the bandage. She reacted in time for the block, but the necessary energy wasn't there, and she felt Trixie's glove slip through her hands like a shark through the ocean before smashing into her face and sending her stumbling again, this time fortunately capable of supporting herself, but still forced to take a few steps back by the blow.

"Sorry, I didn't see anything," Twilight heard a voice behind her, and whipped around, to see a shimmering image of a referee standing behind her, "I'm just an illuuuuuusion!"

Trixie laughed at her little joke. Twilight fumed. This unworthy excuse of a unicorn was going too far, now. She was sick of it. She had wanted to give her a good chance to settle their differences, and now Trixie was treating it like a game, and even worse, a game with no rules. There was nothing worse than a game with no rules. The unicorn's incessant laughter continued behind her, and it was probably only because she found Twilight's shocked reaction so darn funny that Trixie had not yet taken advantage of standing behind her opponent. If Trixie wasn't going to get the fight going again, then, Twilight would have to.

She whipped around, her mane flying around her head so for a second she looked like a flying saucer, twisting with her hips and using the full force of her body, from waist to arms, to send her right fist slamming into Trixie's midsection. It dug into those midday blue abdominal muscles the way that the earlier blow had bashed into her breasts. The feel of it, though, was so much more pleasant and appealing. It didn't rock Trixie away from her, it made her bend forward, which meant she could feel the exhale of the other fighter's hot breath on her cheek, and the spit that came from her mouth splashing on her cheek like a mark of victory.

Even more satisfying than that was the follow-up haymaker left hook to the cheek. The faux-leather thudded against her, and she felt her flesh deform from the blow before Trixie was knocked, stumbling to the side.

Unlike Trixie, Twilight had no intention of letting her opponent recover and taunting. This was a fight now, after all, and one she would win. Not only that, it was one that she would win without cheating, without bending even a single rule or requiring her opponent to believe some made-up story about clumsy missteps during attacks. The strained muscles in her ankle made it felt like the whole foot had been dipped in molten lava, but the bandages let her set it and step forward with a follow-up attack.

She threw a quick jab to the face, connected, and Trixie raised her hands for the next. Twilight responded by throwing one low instead, making the other pony lower her guard to her gut, letting Twilight throw her shot into the chin again. High, low, high, low, blows peppered the blue pony's body until she was starting to look as purple as Twilight. The other girl may have been good, but Twilight was skilled, taking her apart like an AI set to easy. Her fists backed Trixie up until her back was flush against the magically reconstructed ropes, and there was nothing she could do about it except try to guess where the next blow would come from. None of these were knockout blows, but then again, they didn't have to be. There was no need to try to force the issue. As long as Trixie was under her control, she could end the match any time she wanted.

The theory of boxing may not have been something that Trixie was particularly well educated on, but you didn't need to read combat textbooks to understand that when you were pinned to the ropes and being peppered with blows, you had no choice but to get out. Unfortunately for Trixie, if you didn't know very much about boxing, you had very little chance of "getting out" from a controlled situation. You were more likely to lose your cool, and that's exactly what was happening. First she raised her knee, clearly trying to hit a low blow, but Twilight didn't even have to lower her eyes for that, the slight change in the position of Trixie's shoulders told her what was coming, and let her shift her leg to block the blow, and punish the attack by slipping a hook punch past Trixie's guard and into her cheek.

It may not have rocked her to the ground, but the impact the blow had was obvious from the very second Trixie's head rolled to the side and saliva sloshed from her lips and splashed on the ground. She continued to try to punch her way out, but there wasn't a hint of even the cleverness that came from cheating, just straight punches or pull away blows that didn't have the force behind them to bother Twilight even if one of them could connect, and considering the caliber of opponent Trixie was proving, that seemed unlikely to occur. The careless straights and flailing hooks would have been lucky to hit even a stationary opponent, much less make contact with a skilled boxer.

Then again, even blind squirrels sometimes found nuts and stopped clocks are right twice a day. A heavy blow that got its force more from a lucky coincidence between the movement of the body and the positioning of the opponent than it did from any actual skill on Trixie's part still managed to connect, rocking into Twilight's side during an overhand left and making her grunt from the sudden impact. It was hardly a decisive strike, but boxing matches could end on lucky blows, even unscientific ones, and as Trixie's eyes rolled and her heavy breasts bounced like she was on a trampoline with every strike, Twilight figured the time had come to put an end to the torture, put enough space between them to prepare the strike, and throw the knockout blow.

She took a step back and looked for an opening. It came faster than even she could have asked for. Trixie seemed at this point not to have even realized Twilight's nonstop assault had ended and tried a driving full force straight that might have at least connected if Twilight had been stone statuary, and several inches closer than she was now. Unfortunately for Trixie, the purple pony was neither of those. As the momentum carried her glowing gloved fist further from any form of defensive position, Twilight twisted her head to the side like a snake, stepped forward under the arm, and put every ounce of muscle she had behind a hook to Trixie's cheek.

The blow connected with a sound that echoed like the mining equipment that had been used to hollow out the cave and Trixie's body fell to the ground. She looked like a marionette whose puppeteer had spontaneously dropped the strings, her eyes rolled, and her tongue lolled from her mouth as she collapsed to the ground. Twilight stepped back, giving her opponent room to rise if she was able. She wouldn't stand for this match being called anything but equitable in how it ended. Trixie could complain, but Twilight wouldn't give her an excuse for the loss.

"One. Two."

Trixie's arm only twitched as Twilight counted her down.

"Three. Four."

Now Trixie seemed to at least have remembered where she was, and a gloved hand reached up, wrapping around the rope. The blue pony began trying to drag herself to her feet, hands clutching tight and biceps flexing as she used everything she had to try to rise, and still looked like she was only half sure of how her body worked.

"Five. Six."

Trixie looked like a cheap knockoff of the popular "Veterinarian Simulator" video game that had become popular for comedy video makers to play and laugh at their own inability to perform simple surgical procedures, or perhaps something more like its spiritual predecessor QLOP, where gamers would try and fail to guide an Equestria Games runner even five feet down the track. Whichever comparison you preferred, any serious programmer who made an AI with so little control of its limbs would likely have swiftly found themselves without a job.

"Seven. Eight."

With one great heave that would likely have left Equestria's greatest medical minds scrambling for their textbooks to figure out what muscle group had been used to do it, Trixie somehow found her way back to her feet, though admittedly it would likely be too generous to claim she had managed to stand straight. It was more the way that a colt balanced an old Star Horse action figure, having managed to somehow find a pose, however awkward that kept the center of balance above the legs. It certainly didn't count as capable of defending herself, so Twilight had no choice but to keep counting.

"Nine. Te-"

Somehow, Trixie had managed to raise her guard once again. Twilight gave her long enough that she could ensure the raised gloves were not simply some sort of lucky pose assumed from the random flailing of the stunned magician, but they stayed up, which meant Trixie stayed in the fight, at least on a technicality. As soon as she could be sure, and probably even sooner than Trixie was, Twilight stepped in and sent another crushing blow into Trixie's belly. She sunk deep into ab flesh once more, feeling the rush of power that came from crushing down on normally almost armor-like muscles, before following the blow up with a wild uppercut that slammed into Trixie's chin, leaving Twilight thankful for the gloves that saved her from cutting a finger on the jaw, and knocking Trixie's head back and spit from her lips so she looked like an ornamental water fountain made by a particularly perverted designer.

As her own saliva fell back on the blue mare's face, she reeled and stumbled into the ropes, which caved under her weight, falling back, then, following Hoofton's Third Law of Motion, snapped back into place and sent Trixie stumbling forward like a ball out of a slingshot.

There was no need to be concerned about carefully placed counter-punching this time. Trixie wouldn't have been able to throw a punch that could connect with a brick wall, much less a trained fighter, and her head was wide open with her arms at her side flailing for balance. Twilight tensed her thighs and hips, coiled like a spring, and then struck out with a blow that rocked across Trixie's face.

The feel of her rival's vulnerable blue flesh on her skin was, quite honestly, the most incredible feeling Twilight had ever been blessed to experience. It was like sinking her hoof into liquid joy, if liquid joy was hard, covered in hair, and went "OOF!" when you touched it. The previous punch had sent Trixie down like a dropped marionette, but the force Twilight put behind this blow, from her shoulders on down, meant that Trixie looked more like one thrown aside in frustration.

Both feet left the ground as Trixie fell, head to the side and arms straight down, the sort of obvious knockout that typically can only be found in comic books, with eyes rolling back in her so far that it looked like an artist had simply forgotten to put color there. She landed on the mat with a heavy thud, and Twilight began the count.

"One. Two."

Trixie was face down, her calf-muscles twitched, but there was nothing that even resembled trying to stand.

"Three. Four."

Saliva, sweat, and the tiniest bit of blood pooled under Trixie's head, and she remained motionless like a statue.

Twilight counted to ten and then, almost out of curiosity, kept going. She was at thirty when she decided to stop. She let her gloves vanish and conjured a piece of paper out of the air, writing a few words down on the paper, and leaving it on her back for Trixie to read when she woke up.

"No ref, no rules. No honor, no rematch."

And then, on the back, "P.S. No chance."