A lump had formed in young Trixie’s throat as her parents walked her down the long, quiet hallway. She tried to swallow it down, but still felt more nervous than she had ever felt in her life (so far). Meanwhile, her mother and father held their heads high, their stern faces rock-solid as this was an important occasion. That was what they’d told her anyway.
Glancing around nervously to distract herself, Trixie saw a line of photo frames on the wall stretching almost all the way down to the other end of the hall; each displayed a class of young fillies with their teacher, some of the pictures in black and white. The wall opposite was plain except for a few certificates and awards, and doors to classrooms.
Just then the sound of her parents’ hoofsteps stopped abruptly as they had reached the end of the hallway, and Trixie nearly bumped into her father.
He spun his head toward her. “Beatrix Lulamoon,” he bellowed.
Trixie cringed a little at hearing her full name, then stepped back and lifted her head to look up into her father’s face. “Yes?”
“Beatrix,” he repeated, calmer, then gestured toward one of the doors lining the wall (it was labeled Lecture Hall), “this exam is where your life begins. This is going to be the start of your legacy.”
“The continuation of our legacy,” her mother added.
“Yes, and therefore you must pass it no matter what. Give it your all. Your whole future depends on your exceeding this exam. Do you understand?” He eyed her, and his rigid tone made her quiver a little.
She considered telling him that she doubted she would do well. She’d never been able to use her horn to do magic. But then again, she was still a filly. And if it meant impressing them and getting this whole thing over with, a part of her was willing to try. Besides, her parents—who had both been exceptional magic students in their youths—seemed to very much believe she could do it. If they thought so, it had to be true, right?
“Yes, Daddy,” Trixie answered.
He nodded.
“It’s time,” her mother told her as she held the door open for her daughter. Trixie slowly trotted through it and into the lecture hall. Her parents followed and closed the door behind them.
The room had a blue checked floor that gleamed as if it had just been cleaned and polished. On one side of the room was a wooden podium and a table with a globe of Equestria and a stack of textbooks on it. The other had a pair of blue doors, closed. At the front of the room was a chalkboard on the wall and the wall opposite was lined with rows and rows of chairs. At the very top row sat four quite serious-looking and formally dressed ponies, each holding a clipboard and pencil. She assumed that they were the judges.
Just looking up at them with their notes dotted her forehead with beads of sweat. She wiped her brow and took in a deep breath before walking up to the middle of the room and stood there, waiting.
For a minute, no one said anything. She wondered if the judges (who were right now jotting things down with their pens) had seen her come in at all. But then a voice pierced the quiet.
“Ms. Beatrix Lulamoon?” The mare who had spoken looked up from her clipboard and stared down at her through her glasses.
Trixie looked up. “That’s me.”
The mare continued, “Welcome to your entrance exam. I am to assume you are in knowledge of the rules?”
Trixie knew. She knew because her parents had been constantly lecturing her on the exam and how to best control her magic. But she shook her head anyway. She wanted to hear what the judges had to say about it.
“If you are to make it into the school, you must complete the given task.” The judge sounded somewhat bored, and she spoke in a way that told Trixie she’d have to make it quick.
At that moment the blue doors on one side of the room opened. A pony wheeled a small cart through it and left it next to Trixie, then he disappeared back behind the doors.
The cart resembled a wooden desk on wheels. On the desktop sat a flower pot filled with soil. Well, she assumed it was a flowerpot. Without anything growing out of it, it was just a clay cup with dirt in it.
She looked up at the judges for an answer, unsure of what she was supposed to do.
One of the judges, this one wearing a fancy suit and tie, sighed with exasperation.
“The test varies based on the filly who will be taking it,” he explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “For yours, a seed has been planted in the soil; make it sprout, and your performance will be graded. If you do well, you pass.” He glanced at his watch. “Well? Get on with it.”
Trixie quickly spun around to face the flowerpot. She wasn’t going to waste a second of time. She planted her hooves firmly apart from each other and pointed her horn at the pot. Squinting a little, she tried to concentrate her magic energy and project it through her horn (that was how her father explained it to her), but to no avail. Nothing happened. Maybe she just needed to focus more. She tried again, squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn’t get distracted. Grunting with the effort, she managed only to shoot a shower of sparks. Better, but not anywhere near casting a spell.
She opened one eye. The judges, clearly unimpressed, stared blankly at her before scribbling something on their clipboards. One of them yawned, as if they had had better things to do than to be here.
She glanced at her parents standing off to the side. Her mother clicked her tongue as she slowly shook her head, and her father’s firm gaze and narrowed eyes made Trixie snap her head back to the flower pot.
She tried again to make the seed grow, then again, and then again. All she could do was shoot small spurts of pink magic that drifted to the floor and evaporated. She could feel her heart pounding, the pressure to do good, her forehead dripping with sweat, her legs shaking like they were made of Jell-O. What was she going to do? If Trixie didn’t cast a spell quick, she was doomed. She couldn’t bear the thought of meeting her mother and father again after the exam. But how could they expect her to do something so difficult, especially when it seemed she had no ability or talent in magic?
Not ready to face her family just yet, Trixie tried one last time, aiming her horn at the flowerpot. She thrust her head forward as if she simply needed to shake the magic out, but just like all her other tries, it didn’t work.
She slumped. That was it. She just couldn’t do it. Ignoring the displeased judges, she trudged past them and to the door where her parents were waiting.
“We apologize for our daughter’s performance today,” Mother’s clipped voice called to the judges as if what had happened was out of the ordinary. “It was probably just the pressure we put on her. I assure you she has more talent than you think.”
Trixie couldn’t tell whether her mom was saying that because she sincerely thought Trixie could do better or because she just needed an excuse.
The judges shook their heads in disapproval. “Our magic expertise tells us otherwise,” one of them countered.
Trixie saw her father grit his teeth. “Let’s go, Beatrix,” he said, attempting to appear calm, but Trixie heard a spike of anger in his voice. He lay his hoof heavily on her shoulder and the three of them went out into the hallway again.
To her, being alone with her parents in the halls felt worse than during the entrance exam with the judges and all the pressure put on her. Once they were well away from the lecture hall, her father, not looking at her, began, “Do you have any idea what an embarrassment you were in there?”
When she didn’t answer, he continued, voice growing louder by the second, “Under the judgment of the professors, on the most important day of your life, you had to mess up.” He finally turned to face her, and Trixie wished he’d just went on not looking. “You shouldn’t have failed. You’re supposed to be a top student in this school, just as I and your mother have, yet you didn’t even pass the entrance exam.” He glared fiercely at her. She shrunk.
Trixie kept her eyes trained on the floor as she tried to keep up with her parents on her short legs. If only her father would stop reminding her what a terrible job she’d done today.
“Well?”
“Maybe I’m just not meant to be a good student like you,” she mumbled.
“What?” Her father frowned. His icy stare pierced right through her.
“Beatrix,” her mother warned, clicking her tongue. “We will not have that.”
By this time, they had made their way out of the school building and were heading down the stone pathway. Outside, the nearly cloudless sky was blue as sapphire, and the sun shone warmth onto Equestria’s capital city of Canterlot. But the beautiful weather didn’t raise any of their spirits.
“But, but...” Trixie didn’t want to anger her parents any more than she already had, but she needed to say it. “...But what if magic just isn’t my thing? What if maybe I don’t want to do magic?” She bit her lip, hoping it wasn’t the wrong thing to say.
At once her parents stopped walking. They snapped their heads around to gape at their unbelievable daughter. Fury blazed in both of their pairs of eyes, stronger than the sun blazing its light.
Immediately Trixie wished she hadn’t said it. She wished she could stuff the question back in her mouth so that nopony had heard it, but it was too late. She was in for it now.
“Young lady, you give up that tone now. You are going to learn whether you want to or not.” Father said, almost yelling now. He stomped his hoof.
“You must understand that there are some things you can’t control, Beatrix,” Mother added. Normally she didn’t get very mad easily, but today Trixie could tell that she was furious on the inside, though she tried to stay mostly calm on the outside. “And you can be sure that as your parents we know what is best for you. Your destiny is decided. End of conversation.”
Trixie had always had a bit of a temper as a filly growing up with strict, controlling parents. But she’d learned to try and control it. They didn’t approve of it, so she’d listened to them when they said to do so.
But she could feel her blood boil. She’d tried to keep it under control while her parents had been lecturing her, but now she couldn’t help herself. This time she didn’t worry about her tone or how loud she was speaking.
“But it’s my destiny! Not yours or Dad’s. Why should you get to decide what I should and shouldn’t do with my future?” She didn’t stop. “Just because both of you were students doesn’t mean I have to be. I can’t do magic. I can’t and I won’t.”
Trixie was sort of panting now. A small part of herself felt somewhat proud of standing up for herself and saying what she wanted. But that feeling wouldn’t last for long.
She’d thought they were mad before, but sweet Celestia, were her mother and father enraged now. Both their faces had turned white like snow, their eyes as wide as saucers and their jaws had banged against the ground. Their own daughter had never yelled at them before, especially about (what they thought was) such nonsense.
“Why, how dare you raise your voice.” Her father seethed and glared beyond words that she could describe.
“Beatrix!” her mother exclaimed. “Absolutely no shouting. And how many times must we remind you that your future lies in magic school?!”
They were all speaking so loudly now that passersby had stopped and been staring. Nopony in the area could help but overhear the three ponies.
Then she said it, weighing down each word. “If you won’t learn magic like us, you cannot be part of this family either.”
For a moment, everything was silent. No one moved. It was as if the whole city had gone quiet to hear Trixie’s response.
Trixie was stunned. Did her parents want her to listen to them so badly they would kick her out of the household if she didn’t? She knew that only she could shape her own future. Not her parents, not the princesses, only herself. But Mother and Father had gone too far.
She was so mad that she stammered at first. “Well...well, maybe I don’t want to be in this family anymore!” And before they could yell another word at her, she galloped away.