Exiled and destitute, Trixie could yearn for nothing more than someone to rely on - but is there anyone willing to forgive her?
Since being exiled from Ponyville and shunned by all the other ponies, Trixie had been forced into getting by as a nomad. That was until a tender hearted pony lent her a hoof and a shoulder, unable to see anyone suffer. (Set pre-Magic Duel, currently re-writing old chapters before continuing as the writing was old and bad)
Rain lashed against the blue pony’s pelt as she trudged through the Everfree Forest. Though she was exhausted, muscles aching from this endless trek, her hooves fell with no regard to the rest of her body’s complaints. The trees looming above were serving little shelter, and the broken bits of bushes littering the pathway were getting tangled up in her tail, but she had to keep going. She didn’t feel she deserved to rest; she felt guilty about every horrible thing she’d done, and perhaps, this was an apt punishment. She’d been exiled, despised and distrusted by the ponies of Ponyville. Mangled by the wilderness, and reviled by all other ponies, the destitute Trixie felt thoroughly humiliated by the world, and she’d done it to herself.
With the passage of time, her intended notoriety had completely fizzled out, and all she was known for was being an obnoxious brat, a show off with no real talent. When she thought about it, that was what she really was. The Great And Powerful Trixie was just a poor attempt at a persona, an endeavour to feel like she was something memorable, which then got out of control. She had to be the best; she struggled to stomach the alternative. Though, where had this manufactured personality gotten her? Homeless, lonely, and injured. Even her hat and cape were gone. A few tears mingled with the rain.
With the loss of her hat and cape, Trixie had lost a major symbol of who she was – they were last fragments of her persona. Rogue ponies, aware of her actions, robbed her of the costume to flog as the ‘genuine outfit of The Sad And Outcast Trixie!’. At least, that was how they phrased it when they gave her one last kick in the flank before leaving. As for her cart, when she was pulling it through Trottingham (rather quickly, as she knew she wasn’t wanted), she got caught on the outskirts, and had it kicked into pieces before she was driven out of town by those same ponies. At the time, she was startled more than anything, but thinking back on those two events, her heart was breaking.
“You’re nothing more than a fraud,” She mumbled, remembering those words that were spat in her face. Trixie could feel the ghosting of the hooves on her side, the sensation being bucked rising to her flank again. It was getting too hard to carry on, and she slumped down into the mud so hard that it forced the air out of her lungs. She couldn’t help but cry, the tears adding to the wet of her rain soaked cheeks. Now she’d stopped, the pain in her body began to fully set in. Her muscles felt like fire, particularly in her uncontrollably shaking legs from the strain put on them through days of constant walking. It was like every inch of her skin had been stung by wasps. A headache made itself prominent in her skull, manifesting from the bad thoughts and the exposure to the cold. Her eyes slipped shut from exhaustion, though she only planned it to be for a moment.
Even though she was lying down, eyes closed, a rapid dizziness consumed her, causing her to tense up. This convulsion caused a pain to erupt from a large gash in her stomach, one she’d gotten from a run in with a timber wolf a few nights before. He’d managed to catch her belly with his teeth, and slash down both of her cutie marks when he tried to grip her. Even the wolves were out to get her, mangling what was meant to show a pony’s true purpose – she felt she deserved it anyway. Trixie couldn’t let herself get carried away with her thoughts again, or subdue to her pain – she desperately needed to find shelter. There was a genuine fear that if she didn’t find cover, she’d soon succumb to the cold.
As she forced herself to her hooves, she gave a weak attempt at rubbing some of the dried blood out of her pelt, but it felt pointless. She could barely co-ordinate herself, and realized that if she found shelter, she could still be scented down by another wolf while she was lying there. At least the rain would dampen her scent, if she even made it to a spot to rest. Moving her aching legs, she started to stumble onwards through the forest.
Trixie felt as though life treated her badly from the beginning, though she found it pathetic to admit it. Memories of her parents were scarce, if not nonexistent. All she could remember was that she had a neglectful, miserable nanny who despised her job, and had better things to do than mind a dense foal, despite being paid well for it. Quite ungratefully, the nanny had once said she deserved a raise for having to mind this ‘idiot filly’. Admittedly, Trixie wasn’t naturally bright, so she’d put in as much effort as possible to get into magic school. It felt like a waste of time – the other ponies had a tendency to mock her for her meagre size, being a blank flank for a long time while she was there, and for her apparent absence of wit. Despite all the mitigating factors, she tried her best, in the hopes she could become successful, and that her parents would show up and congratulate her. When she graduated, no one showed up for her.
The mare was feeling so much worse now. Her headache had intensified tenfold, and the lacerations littering her thighs were beginning to trickle with blood again. Fortunately, the gash in her stomach was still intact, though it was still agonizing. Each step was a struggle now, but fortunately, something incredible caught her eye – a small grove in the bushes. As quickly as she could, she ducked into the undergrowth, and collapsed into the mud. It was surprisingly dry, and kind of warm.
As Trixie began to doze off in the shelter, her ringing ears caught a startling sound: footsteps. Despite the muffling of the rain, the noise seemed to echo in her dizzy skull, and the exhaustion kept her eyes closed. She hoped that whatever it was, it wouldn’t kill her; she felt like she was on death’s door as is. There was, for a moment, just the patter of the rain, and then a new sound replaced the footsteps – words. The mare had no idea what the words were saying, or who was saying them. Before she had time to comprehend it, she fell into unconsciousness.
Trixie roused to the nauseating sensation of her body being jostled. As her eyes meagerly cracked open, she saw the dirt beneath her shifting, in spite of the lack of movement in her legs. It was all a dizzy blur and she struggled to hold back the bile that rose in her throat. Her body hurt too much to struggle, or even to lift her head which was weighed down by an obscene migraine. Yet, somehow, she still seemed to be moving. The pains lead her to pant, and with each rasp of breath, a warming scent found its way into her nostrils: apples.
The familiarity was almost unsettling.
In the moments before slipping out of consciousness, a fizzle of ginger fur swarmed her fading sight, and the drowned sound of speech echoed in her ears. Through her mostly lidded eyes and obstructing eyelashes, she could see the hooves that carried her were of a deep orange; whoever found her was taking her somewhere. This pony was so familiar, but she deeply doubted it would be who she thought it was. With her abhorrent personality, she doubted any pony would really want to help her, but more specifically, she was rancid to a particular group. As she strained to tilt her head, she saw the bounce of a tied blonde mane.
It was Applejack.
Though completely maladaptive, and driven largely by sudden panic, Trixie began to struggle. As soon as she started kicking those blue furred legs, the burning of her muscles made her feel like she would vomit. She just managed to hold it down, and that sensation dampened as she kept kicking and struggling. Her panting was getting a lot louder, to a point that she could barely hear the mare carrying her telling her to knock it off. When the magician refused to relent, Applejack came to a halt.
“What the hell are y’all fussin’ about? Calm yourself down!” “Put me down, you- you-,” Short of breath, she was struggling to argue, “You pony-napper you! The Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t…” “I’ll just give ya a sec to get your breath back.” As she slid the azure furred pony onto the ground, she was surprised when she sat up and snorted assertively at her. “T-The Great and Powerful Trixie… D-Doesn’t need help from some farm pony like you. She would have been just fine by herself!” “Now, Trix, as much as I’d love ta argue with ya about this, I feel that ain’t gonna help us. Y’all ain’t fit for takin’ a stroll down to the shops, let alone livin’ it rough.” “Trixie would be fine.” She grumbled. It was easy to tell that all she was doing was trying to save face, avoiding seeming weak in front of a pony as noble and brave as Applejack.
“I’m not too sure why, but I gotta say, I disagree.” With a gentle nudge, she tried to get Trixie to stand up, “Try ta walk, would ya?” It seemed that, despite her legs aching and bowing, the blue magician could just about manage to move on her own four hooves. This seemed to make her feel a bit more confident, but even she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. Though Trixie gave an angry snort about it, the farmer moved against her side, so she could lean on her. “Come on, Sugarcube, let’s get y’all to some place safe before you get more chewed up by Timberwolves than ya already are.” “Where are you even taking me?” Her head was turned away as she spoke, as she still felt undignified and malcontented.
She balked at the reply. “I’m takin’ y’all back with me ta Sweet Apple Acres. You know I’m not ya biggest fan, but I couldn’t live with maself if I let ya die out here.” “But nobody wants me in Ponyville!” Her own sudden halt made her slam down into the mud, where she lay and whined, “I can’t go back there!” She’d dropped the third person personality; it was redundant when she was barely worth a penny. “Y’all haven’t got a choice Trix. Ya can’t even get yourself outta the dirt.” Applejack lifted her up onto her back again, and began her way back towards her home, “I’ll keep ya in the barn for now, since we ain’t currently got a spare room. When you’re feelin’ a little bit better, ya can help me out with chores.” “It’s like you’re punishing me.” “You’re hardly a saint; I can’t say you don’t half deserve it.” “I guess you’re not entirely wrong,” She was in too bad condition for it to be worthwhile arguing her condition. “I suppose I’ll have to put up with it.”
A proud smile couldn’t help but find its way to the farmer’s snout, and she picked up her pace a little bit. It was getting darker, as the night was swallowing up the day rapidly. It was fortunate that they were on the edges of the Everfree Forest now, and the blessing of the dark was that few ponies were out, and those few ponies would barely be able to see them. The brisker trot Applejack moved at was starting to make Trixie feel more sore, which she expressed by pulling on the blonde mane quite roughly. She was promptly returned to the floor. “We’ll walk at your pace if y’all’re gonna just pull on my hair.” “You were going too fast…” It looked like she was disappointed, but she forced her weak legs to walk towards the farm.
After what felt like hours for the pair of them, the barn was in sight, and soon enough, they closed in on it. The ginger pony lead the other to a spare stall, where they’d normally keep pregnant cows. Spreading fresh hay down with an efficiency earned through years of cattle working, she gestured Trixie to lie down on it. Reluctantly, she followed the order, and made a slow move to lie on her side, which felt only just slightly more comfortable than any other position. Her wounds were getting slightly sticky, having begun to bleed again as they made their way to the farm, but it would have to wait until morning to be sorted.
“Hold on here for a sec’, I’ll just run and grab ya some blankets and pillows.” Grudgingly, the cerulean furred magician lay sill, looking out the open doors at the now clear sky. Moonlight drifted in and sprawled out over the floorboards, its source full and bright this evening. Trixie slumped her head down into the straw, and she could feel herself drifting off within seconds. A ringing in her ears struck, but she tried desperately to ignore it. The only interruption to her homemade white noise was the scurries of mice about the stalls, and the occasional cow or sheep call from the paddocks. It didn’t take long for all the noises to merge, and eventually cease as she fell asleep in the scattered bale.
Of course, when Applejack arrived, she lightheartedly rolled her eyes at the dozy equine sprawled out. With a meticulous tenderness, she laid a fluffy blanket over top of Trixie, and lifted her head up as gently as possible to put a pillow under it. Bar a quiet snort, she didn’t seem to stir. Giving her a light nuzzle on the cheek – an action she never really expected to deliver to the typically pretentious unicorn – she whispered a goodnight in her ear. Concerned of an overnight expiry, Applejack moved to lie under her own blanket she brought, and settled down near the poorly pony for the night. Everything about this felt so odd, but there was little else she could do. The honest mare just had to hope her friends wouldn’t find this all out; there was no way they’d be pleased to see Trixie again so soon.
As the sun began to wake up, trickles of gold light spilled in from the crack of the door, and stumbled down from the sky light. The barn glowed in a gentle pink hue, contrasted by the bright yellow of the day lit straw. In the splendor of the morning, Trixie woke feeling less than beautiful. In fact, as soon as she brought herself up to her aching hooves, a horrible hacking almost knocked her back down, and a few small spatters of blood and phlegm landed on the hay. She knew this feeling; it was a chest infection. When her cough subsided, she moved toward a water trough in the stall, and lapped at the stagnant water. It wasn’t pleasant, but it soothed the burning of her throat.
As she made her way back to her bedding to have a brief lie down, she spotted some mice, hurrying and scurrying about the dried grass in the stall. Their beady eyes kept flashing towards the unicorn, wary of her presence. With the nasty snort, she made it clear she was worth being wary of. A brief glance around the structure confirmed to her that last night wasn’t just a dream – Applejack had really taken her in. Her mind was still a little fuzzy, and the lingering headache was making it hard to think. What was she even supposed to do now? Something caught her eye.
The blankets and pillow left in the wake of the farmer, who she didn’t realize had been here with her. Wriggling towards them, on her belly, she put hoof to fabric, and found that they were cold; Applejack had been out for a while. Reasonably, she assumed it was either to work the land, or to see her friends. Either way, Trixie was really lost for ideas on what she was meant to do. Leaving the barn seemed like a bad idea, given her physical condition, and everything she’d left in her wake when she was last here, but she could hardly spend her whole day sitting in this stall. She was in desperate need of a clean, her wounds in particular, and the sickness bothering at her lungs could do with some decent treatment.
Her stall gate was open anyway, but she noticed that the door to the barn was ajar. The temptation to have a look around outside got the best of her, and she moved on her tender legs to peer onto the farm land. Applejack had been bucking trees, but was now moving to pull the full cart towards the house. Rainbow Dash was floating around by her, allegedly helping out - if helping could be counted as eating one of the apples. Though the magician backed away into the barn again with urgency, it wasn’t left unnoticed by the farmer. “Hold on out here for a sec’ Dash. I need to check on the heifer in the barn, she’s just recently got knocked up by one’a’tha prize bulls, and she needs regular checks before birthing, ya know? Cows ain’t good with birthing right.” There was something humorous about the analogy of Trixie being a cow, but she had to ignore that. “Yuck. I’ll stay out here, sure.”
Briskly, Applejack made her way to the barn, and closed the door behind her. The blue furred pony was holding back a cough until the door closed, at which point she did choke a little bit. Her ears flicked with irritation, as though she remained skeptical of her rescuer. In spite of the coughing, she tried to regain her usual personality. “You alright there, Sugarcube?” She patted on her back, trying to help her, but the gesture was met with an abrupt backing off. Eventually, she caught her breath and swallowed hard, “Trixie doesn’t need your help! She’s fine!” “All that wheezin’ and retchin’? I don’t think so hun.” She shook her head, but then seemed a little concerned, looking at her thighs. “What?” Trixie snapped, “What are you doing?” “Y’all’ve made a right mess of those legs’a yours. Go wait in your stall for a sec’, okay? I’ll be right back.” Though she hesitated initially, she moved back into her stall, and lay on her blanket.
The rush that the orange pony was in seemed to worry Rainbow Dash, who swooped down to see her, following after. Her brow was creased, “What’s going on? You’re acting a bit more nervous than someone whose cow’s got morning sickness or something.” “I’m sorry, Dash, but I gotta sort some things out. Is it alright if I come see ya in a bit?” She clambered up into her house, looking through cupboards for the first aid kit. “I guess… But you’re acting really, really weird.” “Thanks Sugarcube,” She looked relieved, “See ya in a bit!” Sure, Rainbow left the house, but she took to the apple trees to hide; she had to know why her friend was being so strange.
With urgency, the blonde pony dashed back into the barn, and made her way towards Trixie, who was lying on her belly. Her eyes glanced up with an automatic aggressive gaze, and then she covered her face with her hooves. As much as she wanted to retain an aloof and haughty personality, she felt too under the weather for it to be worth it. Plus, Applejack wasn’t really reacting to it anymore, so the façade was fairly worthless. She was offered a bit of cough syrup, which she took with little fight, and stayed still, in place, on her blanket.
“It’s gonna sting,” Was the only thing said before the antiseptic was rubbed onto her flank. Without even a second of hesitation, Trixie yelped and stumbled up to her legs, panting hard. She lowered her head and glared. “Don’t do that! Trixie doesn’t want your help!” The shock brought heavy coughs to her chest again, and she had to lie down, lungs exasperated by her sheer overreaction. “I couldn’t care less if ya don’t want it, you have to get it,” Though tension rose in her tone, she tried to keep herself calm; getting angry wouldn’t help. “Trixie will be fine,” Quite clearly, the unicorn had belly crawled backwards into a corner to avoid having the antiseptic on her wounds. The anger restraint fell back quickly, “Y’all’re being real ungrateful for some pony who would’a been dead if I’d not taken her in!” “Well maybe you should have just left me!” She stomped forward, snorting in her face, “It’s not like my death would have made a difference to anyone anyway!”
With that curt remark, she began her way out of the barn, ignoring Applejack’s shouts to come back. Trixie was hobbling while she trotted out, and it hurt like hell to move, but she wasn’t giving in and going back – she’d already lost face enough, this would just add insult to literal injury. When the farmer was hot on her tail, she tried her best to move faster, but as soon as she hit a slow canter, her wheezing breaths turned into a horrid coughing fit, forcing her to stop. The orange pony stopped too, but not quite because of Trixie’s current impairment.
A hoof thumped over and over on Trixie’s back until she retched, eyes watering from how badly the cough hurt her lungs. Between gasps, she was swallowing hard to soothe the torn sensation in her throat. She had no time to recover though, as she was knocked back by those same blue hooves that helped her stop choking. “What the hell are you doing back here?!”