Hoodwink sat in a large bathtub, taking it all in. The water was warm and full of bubbles. There was the pleasant smell of soap. She sighed. Her mind was filled with the thoughts of the past few days, and with an assignment that Celestia had given her.
To think about what home was, and what it meant.
Hoodwink didn’t know.
Bathing usually meant getting dunked into a stream, river, or lake and then getting scrubbed. It was usually cold. Usually, it didn’t get rid of the sweaty pony smell and perfume had to be used.
Home was a wagon that rolled over Equestria, never settling. It was going to sleep in a different place almost every night. It was tiny cramped quarters and limited space, a spot where she was packed away like everything else. There was a small Hoodwink shaped space in the wagon where she was meant to be stored away.
But home also meant her mother. For all of her mother’s faults, she loved her mother. She had a vague understanding of how her mother had used to be. She was smart enough to have picked up on the pieces, and she had read the letters between her mother and Twilight Sparkle. Her Mother had once called herself “The Great and Powerful Trixie.” She had lusted after power and prestige. She had rolled around Equestria making a name for herself, trying to be something she wasn’t. She had once considered Twilight Sparkle her nemesis, an odd claim that Hoodwink never fully understood. Trixie believed that she needed a rival, a foe, someone to blame for failures, because that was part of being great and powerful. The magicians in the books always had great and powerful foes, sworn enemies, a nemesis to blame for when their master plan went wrong.
Now, Trixie was simply “The Great and Fabulous Trixie.” Content to be a showmare. A performer. Content to be a friend to Twilight Sparkle.
Hoodwink let out a faint cry, writhing somewhat in the water as her mind went to darker places, places she didn’t want to go.
Hoodwink knew what had changed Trixie. Trixie didn’t know that Hoodwink knew. Twilight didn’t know that Hoodwink knew. But Hoodwink knew. She cringed, her legs kicking slightly, the water splashing.
Hoodwink had figured out how to jimmy the lock holding her mother’s most private possessions, including a few letters that she wasn’t allowed to read, papers, and other things. She had learned something that she now wished she hadn’t discovered.
Hoodwink lay her head back against the edge of the tub, looking upward.
Someplace down south in the badlands, a place called Palomino Point, a place her mother had never returned to. Her mother had put on a show. Hoodwink had learned that Palomino Point was a mining town, full of miners and some pretty rough ponies.
Trixie had given them a show.
Hoodwink didn’t fully understand what had happened, but from what she had been able to gather, the ponies weren’t happy with the show, and had demanded a private show, whatever that meant. Something must have gone wrong through. For whatever reason, something awful had happened, something that had left her mother badly beaten, strangled, a leg broken, and left for dead in the desert.
Trixie had crawled out of the desert and back to civilisation, and Twilight had gone to her side. Twilight, as busy as she was a princess, had gone to the side of the mare that had named Twilight “nemesis” and had tried to comfort her after her ordeal. Twilight had paid for lodgings in a place called Dodge City, allowing her mother to heal in peace and safety. It had taken a half a year for her mother to get her voice back.
And have Hoodwink. Hoodwink had figured out that she had been born almost a year after whatever had happened.
At some point, Trixie had changed. Her long period of recovery had caused her to reflect upon what she had really wanted from life. And it hadn’t been power. A little fame couldn’t hurt though.
The bathwater was cooling off. Hoodwink didn’t know a spell to reheat bathwater. She’d probably learn one someday.
What was home? Hoodwink didn’t know.
What Hoodwink was slowly piecing together however, was the nature of being great and powerful. It wasn’t living in a wagon. No. Being great and powerful required resources. Books. Libraries. Access to means of learning. Hoodwink probably wasn’t the smartest pony in her group, but she was clever and quick, and she had learned that from being on the road. She was quiet. She was something that Twilight had called an “introvert.” She was rapidly putting together what it meant to be great and powerful, to become a truly talented wizard. She pondered the castle all around her. It was full of secrets. Knowledge. Things she could learn if she was patient and paid attention. It had resources. Food. Comfort. Books. Teachers who would show her what real power was, and how to use it. Teachers that had already achieved real power.
Hoodwink’s horn tingled as she thought.
Hoodwink realised she had a chance to become something her mother had once craved after. Hoodwink didn’t care about show business. Not anymore. That much was clear. She could see her future looming ahead of her, and she was just smart enough and just clever enough to see what sort of future she wanted.
She wanted to be great. And she wanted to be powerful. She wanted ponies to remember her name. But not for being a showmare.
No, that just wouldn’t cut it. Not anymore. Rolling around in a stinky wagon was not a means to power. Living a castle full of books was a much safer bet.
And, she reflected, she could learn from her mother’s mistakes, saving her a lot of grief and struggle in the long journey forward.
Hoodwink realised the key to success was having friends to watch your back, to pick up the slack, to shore up your own shortcomings. Trust. That was power. What was greatness? Hoodwink wasn’t sure yet.
Hoodwink reflected upon her new friends. Ivy had been there to comfort her right from the beginning, almost. Minerva was smart and cultured and was already trying to help Hoodwink fit into castle life so Hoodwink wouldn’t feel so out of place. And then there was Brimstone. Once you got past the nose burning stench, Brimstone was a good colt. He wasn’t a mane or tail puller. Those were big pluses in Hoodwink’s mind. Most other colts she had met were tail pullers and mane snatchers. Hoodwink didn’t understand colts.
She had tried to talk to her mother about it once, but it had made her mother cry. So Hoodwink had simply given up on the subject.
Her friends wouldn’t let her fail.
Hoodwink’s mind raced as she had something she would later learn was called an epiphany.
It really didn’t matter where home was, provided that her friends were there with her. None of this would mean anything if she didn’t have them. She was going to be moving around a lot during the coming years, going from place to place, learning new lessons. Things would change. The wagon was gone, but she would still be traveling a fair bit. Her friends would be with her though. She’d be spending a lot of time on trains. Trains were a lot better than some stinky cramped wagon.
She pondered this for a while in her rapidly cooling bathwater.
One thing was missing though. Her mother. She felt a pang of regret. She loved her mother. Her mother made the wagon bearable. Hoodwink felt conflicted.
She had an idea of what to write for her paper. She wondered if Celestia would be pleased. Hoodwink wanted for Celestia to be pleased.
She climbed out of the tub and stood there on the floor, watering running off of her blue coat, her mane slicked and sticking to her head and neck.
She strained and struggled and finally managed to pop the plug from the bottom of the tub to let the water out.
She looked in the mirror and saw The Great and Powerful Hoodwink staring back at her. She smiled.