• Published 3rd Jan 2014
  • 1,745 Views, 32 Comments

Great and Powerful: The Story of Trixie Lulamoon - Pastel Pony

Trixie isn't perfect, and she knows it. But behind the flashing lights and fake bravado there is another pony the world rarely sees, somepony who is just trying to protect the only pony she truly cares for.

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Welcome Home...

The train running between Ponyville to Canterlot rumbled quietly as it slowed into the station. Inside, a lone pony in the last carriage sat forlornly in her seat. Breathing on the window, she traced a hoof through the fog clinging to the glass, drawing a happy face. The pony stared at the picture, trying to mimic its glee with something that came out more like a grimace than a smile. With a sigh, she rested her head against the cold glass and closed her eyes.

“Madame?” She felt a hoof on her shoulder, and opened her eyes to see a smiling ticket collector staring down at her. “Sorry to bother you, but we’re just pulling in to the station, and I was wondering if you had some luggage I could get down for you?”

“Oh… I do, but I can get it down by myself.” She sat up and channeled her magic. Her horn sparked up in a gentle pink glow as she levitated down a worn old blue suitcase. Turning back to the stallion, she gave him a small polite smile. “Thank you, anyways.”

He shrugged, “It’s my job to be helpful, and anyways you looked pretty plum tuckered out…Long trip?”

“Oh, not really…” she mumbled, “Just an…eventful week.”

“Which town were you coming from?” he asked.

The mare bit her lip and cast her eyes down. “…Ponyville.”

He chuckled lightly, “Oh, no wonder you’re tired. I have a cousin there, and she was telling me about all this crazy stuff involving some psychotic mare who was making the whole town do the silliest things. Now what was her name …”

“Trixie.” whispered the mare, laying her ears flat against her head.

The stallion frowned. “Oh, I apologize if I upset you, my cousin did say some ponies had it worse than others.”

The mare simply whimpered lightly.

“Oh, please don’t get upset, Miss…uh…I’m sorry, I don’t believe you told me your name.”

“Ummm…my nam is…uhhh…” Her eyes darted around the room, resting on the group of ponies filing out of the train. “Excuse me!” She blurted, darting past the ticket collector. Grabbing her suitcase in her magic glow, the mare pushed past the other ponies and wiggled past the line and out the door.

Darting through the train station, Trixie Lulamoon fled into the night.

Trixie slowed as she neared her home. She was being silly. All the poor stallion had done was ask a few polite questions. She shivered, all the same, she hadn’t been ready to deal with ponies hearing of her....dealings…in Ponyville. Still, it had been nice to have a normal conversation for once.

With a sigh, she glanced up to spot the large statue that sat in town square that was so familiar to her. This was a dividing point. Walking north lead a pony towards the castle, with each row of homes and shops growing more splendid and expensive as one went. The south led to the less…desirable side of the city.

Trixie quietly made her turn, the lights of the castle fading away as she left town square for the world she knew. It was easy to navigate the ins and outs of the poor side of Canterlot once you had lived there long enough. The fist few streets of homes were bright and cheerful, if a bit small and cheap. Trixie trotted past those and onto the roads of cracked concrete and sparse brush.

The homes here were run down little shacks of bad-luck and misfortune; the bars a place to throw away your worries. The further away the streets got from the watchful eye of the castle, the worse they became. Many mares found means of work in a few…unsavory side streets.

Trixie allowed herself a sad smile. Here, she was an expert.

Slowly, she trailed along the chipped pavement, making a turn here and there as she wandered towards her home. She paused by the familiar playground that stood alone on the edge of a dying field of grass. It was a derelict thing, the little climbing frame rusted, the chains of one of the swing seats broken.

Trixie grimaced, it was hardly safe, but she could not remember a time when the neighborhood had the money to get it fixed. Most of the ponies living in the area barely got by with their measly earnings as it was.

Shaking her head, she turned away and broke into a swift gallop. Closing her eyes, she savored the feeling of the wind running through her mane in a joyful, carefree fashion.

As she rounded her street, she slowed to a walk once more. She was hardly in a hurry to reach her house. Slowly dragging her hooves, she counted off the numbers in her head. 1…2…3…4…5…6. Ah, here it was. Number six, the last house on the street.

Trixie let out a sigh. It was time to go home.

She slowly trudged up the steps to the splintering porch, shooting a glare at the porch light that never seemed to be working. Reaching up a hoof, she knocked on the door.

“Go away!” yelled a mare’s voice from inside, “I aint got any more damn money yet!”

Trixie rolled her eyes and banged her hoof against the door again. After a pause, the door swung open to reveal a scowling older mare with bloodshot eyes.

“The landlord looking for overdue rent again, mother?” Trixie smirked.

“Trixie.” Her mother spat, “What the hell you doing back here?”

Trixie glared at her, “I finished my business in Ponyville. And I’d try to look a little more pleased to see me considering I’m the one who pays the rent.”

“Don’t you talk to your mother like that!” she growled. Avoiding her mother’s glare, Trixie grabbed her bag and slipped past her inside. Surveying the room, she noted that the usual amount of trash around the place seemed to have grown. She gently levitated her bag over to a chair while simultaneously collecting the worst of the rubbish. Dumping it all in the trash can, she frowned at her mother.

“Why does the filth around here always seem to increase while I’m gone?”

Her mother shrugged, “Maybe cause you’re not here to pick it up.”

Trixie simply sighed and trotted into the kitchen. Several half-empty bottles of alcohol littered the table. Judging by the smell wafting off her mother, there were no doubt other bottles dotted around the house. Shaking her head, she levitated the empty bottles into the crate she used for recycling. She inspected the few that were still half-empty before dumping the liquid onto the wilting bush outside the window.

Her mother stumbled into the kitchen. “What are you doing with my drinks?”

“Getting rid of them.” Trixie muttered calmly. Reaching for the last drink, she turned towards the window. Her mother’s hoof collided with her cheek as she snatched the bottle out of her daughter’s grasp. Scowling, Trixie rubbed her stinging cheek as she watched her mother turn and wobble out of the room.

She sighed and summoned her bag from the other room. Plopping it down next to her, she stared at the filthy kitchen with a forlorn gaze.

“Welcome home.” She grumbled.

“Trixie?” whispered a small voice from behind the corner.

Trixie looked over with surprise, “Sparkle?”

“Trixie!” the voice cheered as a little filly scampered from around the corner. Slipping across the floor, she danced around her sister.

Trixie grinned and pulled her sister over to her, waving her hoof in front of her sister’s muzzle to get her attention. “Woohoo, over here!” she laughed.

With an excited squeal, Sparkle threw her forelegs around her sister. Smiling, Trixie returned the hug. Happy little whimpers escaped Sparkle as she snuggled closer, seeking out the familiar warmth of her sister’s embrace.

“You’re back.” she whispered.

“Yes,” said Trixie. “I’m back.” resting her head on the top of her sisters, she closed her eyes and breathed in the sweet scent of her mane. Both stayed there for a minute, simply enjoying the presence of one another. Slowly, Trixie pried her sister off her. She stared at the little face as she did her best to create a stern face.

“You’re supposed to be in bed!”

Sparkle gave a sheepish grin and looked down. “I didn’t want to have to wait till morning to see you.”

Despite her attempts to scold her sister, Trixie couldn’t help but smile. “Alright, good enough.” She reached down and scooped her sister onto her back. Heading out of the kitchen, she slowly plodded towards the room she shared with Sparkle.

She glanced back at her sister’s skinny frame with worry. “Have you been eating well?”

Sparkle made a face. “Mummy had a bad week, but I remembered how to use the microwave on those boxes of food like you showed me, so I was ok. Plus…” She leaned forward in a whisper. “I found the Nightmare Night candy you stashed away.”

“Sparkle Lulamoon you evil child!” Trixie cried in mock horror. “Upon that candy there was but a terrible curse!”

Sparkle giggled and slid off her sister’s back, bounding over to her cot in the corner of their room. She scrambled up and sat on her pillow, waiting for Trixie to come tuck her in. “Did you find what you were looking for in Ponyville?”

Trixie froze, barely two steps away from the bed. The last few days once again came pounding down on her. “I…I’m not sure.” she sighed, “I certainly…learned some things.”

Sparkle pouted, “Trixie, why do you look sad?”

Trixie shook her head and forced a smile onto her face. “I’m not sad. Now…” She gently moved back the covers and tucked her sister in. “You, my inquisitive little filly, need to get some rest.”

She leaned down and planted a kiss on her sister’s forehead. “Good Night.”

“Good night Trixie, I love you.” whispered her sister.

Trixie smiled, “Love you too.”

She quietly shut the door, and walked back out to the living room. Her mother was still perched on the sofa, nursing her bottle of who-knows-what.

“I’m going out.” Trixie stated loudly. “Sparkle is asleep. If you wake her I’ll kick you drunken ass into next Tuesday.” She turned and trotted out the front door before her mother had the chance to respond. Slamming the door shut behind her, she gazed out at the night sky forlornly before taking a step down onto the porch step. The wood crackled beneath her hoof, and with a shriek she crashed to the down. Coughing out wood dust, she inspected her front leg, which was now half sunk into the step. Pulling her hoof out, she inspected the broken step with a scowl.

“Typical.” she grumbled.