Athazagoraphobia
To Swiper—your image is untarnishable, your impact, unmeasurable.
Sunlight.
A lot of ponies would take it for granted, hardly even batting an eyelash when an errant ray of light cascaded down from the heavens onto their fur. But for a pony who hadn't seen the sun in nearly three days, even the tiniest sliver of sublime sunlight felt as good as a thick woolen blanket, swaddling them and warming their fur as if they were standing next to a roaring fire.
Trixie was one of those ponies.
"Ahh." The mare paused for a long moment, familiarizing herself with every last photon of light as it sank into her coat and made even the most dirt-speckled splotches shine like they had just been through a thorough scrubbing. "That feels great." Her content gaze traveled upward to the canopy of gnarled, mangled tree limbs above that filtered out all but the luckiest beams of sunlight. The Everfree forest was home to a great many fascinating creatures, but the one thing it seemed to be inconveniently lacking in was a decent amount of sunlight.
As much as Trixie wanted to stay here forever and forget about her unfinished journey, she knew she had to continue, if not just to get this whole misadventure over with. After a very long second of hesitation, she finally willed her muscles into motion and tore herself away from that single, divine point of light. "Hmph, 'closure' my hoof," she mumbled under her breath as she tossed a forlorn look at what was surely the last patch of light she would encounter before getting out of the mysterious forest. Trixie does not need closure. What she does need is a good hitpony—she is going to kill Doctor Dyadics for making her go on this pointless excursion.
From out of the brush to her right came a low, menacing growl that made the tiny tree branches shiver with fear. "Scratch that. She just wants to get out of this creepy forest."
Thankfully, she wouldn't have to wait long for her wish to be granted. Turning her gaze front and center as she resumed her stroll, she began to notice a subtle thinning in the brush around and above her. Willing her eyes to cut a clear line of sight through the thicket, she could just barely make out a parting far ahead in the green enclosure around her. A single, infinitesimally small circle of light illuminated the brambles around it in a warm glow, finally signalling an end to her journey through the Everfree.
She allowed herself a quick, joyous chuckle at her good fortune before making a beeline for the opening. The coin-sized light slowly grew as she made her way towards it, the bright light at the end of the long tunnel guiding her to freedom. As much as she wanted to gallop all the way to the light, she forced herself to slow down and take extra care not to trip over any stray roots or get tangled in loose vines. She didn’t want her entrance to be remembered as anything less than impeccable.
Finally, like a mighty whale breaking the surface of the ocean, she sprang from the dark depths of the Everfree and into the light of day. Wearing her trademark smile, she gave a few quick pirouettes as she felt the full force of the sun's light on her for the first time in far too long. A shiver climbed up her spine as every last hair on her body stood at attention, reaching up and grasping for more of Celestia’s sun.
"Ooh, that feels good." For a moment, she actually considered flopping down and rolling around on the grass, just to rid herself of any last trace of the Everfree's wretched stigma. She scoffed to herself, however, as soon as the thought materialized in her head. The thought that she would even consider rolling around in the grass like a little foal made her snort. She had much more important things to do than cover herself in grass stains.
As she looked around, though, she couldn’t help but notice how inexplicably green the field she stood in was. It almost looked like somepony had taken the time to paint every last blade of grass in the most vibrant shade of green possible. It made the immaculately maintained Royal Gardens seem like a near-wasteland in comparison. She errantly ran a hoof through it, relishing for just a moment its softness as the tufts of greenery tickled her fur.
Alright, that's quite enough. Quit being so foolish. The harshness of her Inner voice snapped her from her reverie, drowning out her softer side with a growl. Straightening up and running her eyes over the field, she muttered, "Now where could—aha, there it is.”
No sooner had she started speaking than she spotted her destination off in the near distance. Barely larger than her own hoof from her distance, a cluster of thatched roofs connected by a checkerboard pattern of cobblestone roads sat resting in between the hill she stood on and the adjacent plain. A single, lazy trail of smoke curled up from a stray chimney top and dissipated in the air high above.
“Ponyville.”
For all her preparation leading up to this very moment, Trixie still found her stomach knotting itself into a pretzel at the mere sight of the town. A discontented grumble bubbled its way out of her mouth as her breath caught in her lungs. The grass beneath her began to feel more like sandpaper, and she shifted uncomfortably under its rough touch.
Eager to put distance between herself and the grating greenery she stood on, she pushed her legs into motion and tried her best to focus on the gleaming town in front of her. "It has certainly been a long while," she thought out loud. “Trixie wonders if they still remember her."
She suddenly snorted at her own words. "That's preposterous, of course they still remember Trixie." As soon as the words left her mouth, though, the brash smirk she wore quickly darkened to a frown. "They all probably still hold Trixie's name in infamy after the Ursa incident.” An all-too-familiar anger sparked up inside her at the thought of her name being the butt of a common joke. Her eyes hardened into lavender-colored ice that seemed to freeze anything unfortunate enough to be caught in their unforgiving gaze.
A drawn-out breath as white-hot as steam from a boiling kettle vented from her flared nostrils. “At least they’ll remember Trixie.” Sure, it had been several years, but after what Trixie had done the last time she was here, the town was sure to remember her. After all, it’s better to be remembered for being a bad pony than not be remembered at all. The last words sounded well-rehearsed, as if she had repeated that same line a million times over in order to sear it into her brain. “Even if they think less of Trixie than filth, even if Trixie is universally despised, even if they deface Trixie’s name for all eternity—”
Suddenly, it occurred to her that she was the only one currently defacing her name. She hissed, driving her hoof like a piston into the soft earth in a childish attempt to dispel the oppressive negativity that weighed down her mind. “Trixie will not let herself be riled up so easily. If Doctor Dyadics thinks this will help Trixie, then she has no reason to believe otherwise.” Yet even as the words left her mouth, she realized just how hollow they sounded. There was no motivation to them, no conviction They were as flat as the ground she stood on—a point without passion.
Trixie sighed. Did she really want to do this? From the start, it seemed like an awful lot of pointless nonsense. Turning, she tossed a sideways glance towards the forest she had just escaped from. It’s only a three day journey back through the Everfree. Another day to hop on a train and go back to Manehatten, and boom! Trixie’s back to the stage, her adoring crowds...
And the disappointed gaze of Doctor Dyadics. An involuntary chill ran up and down Trixie’s spine as a graphic vision of what could only be described as the most frightening glare she had ever seen anypony make popped into her mind. “Alright, Trixie will do it. But only because she has already gone this far. Celestia knows she’s wasted enough time as it is.” Whirling about to face the town, she steeled herself for the inevitable confrontation.
However, the instant her eyes met the serene little village, all her bravado vanished in one big puff of smoke. Her gaze deteriorated into a decidedly nervous glance as her shoulders slumped like a dying flower left to bake in the sun. Walking towards the town she had last seen while running away, tail between her legs and tears running down her face, certainly dredged up a few less than pleasant memories for the showmare. That’s the path Trixie ran away on. Her legs wavered. There’s the spot she last saw Twilight Sparkle...
The worried glare on her face quickly hardened into a scowl. Eager to get the unicorn out of her head, she scanned the field, praying for another memory to surface and cleanse her mind of the lavender mare. Ah, yes. That’s where Trixie set up her cart.
A pang of nostalgia hit her square in the chest at the thought of her old cart. Oh, how Trixie loved that thing. Her hoof-dragging trot stopped as she stared at the patch of grass where, a long, long time ago, a beautifully crafted stage cart once sat. Her home and her stage, all rolled into one convenient package—what more could a showpony want?
She sighed as her brain floundered in a flood of warm memories; burying herself under blankets and comforters when the heating element had gone out, desperately placing buckets under leaks in a torrential downpour, spending hours making miniscule adjustments to the finicky tubes that housed the fireworks—
Huh. Now that Trixie thinks about it, that cart was nothing but junk. Sentimental junk, but still junk at that. Trixie guesses not even a pony as iron-willed as she is immune to nostalgia.
With a final, forlorn gaze she tore her eyes away from the plot of land and resumed her walk, though this time at a much slower pace. Internally, she chastised herself at the gag-inducing display of emotions. “This crazy town must be getting to Trixie.”
Speaking of town... Trixie looked up from her meditative rant to find herself trotting next to the same thatched-roof cottages and bungalows that had caught her eye when she first left the forest. Twisting her head around, she just managed to catch a large “Welcome to Ponyville!” sign in her peripheral vision.
“Hmph, how tacky.”
“Oh, that reminds me—the new outfit that Cashmere has designed for that new store of hers is as tacky as a corkboard. I simply cannot believe how low she’s gone this time, even for a mare as lowly as her.”
Huh. Trixie swore she remembered that voice from her last visit. It carried like a breeze in autumn, rich and unwavering. After a quick scan of the area for the source of the voice, her gaze settled upon a nearby building—an outdoor patio adjacent to an open-air cafe. The voice in question floated from behind a thick mess of tangled vines that separated the seating area from the outside world in a green curtain.
“I tell you darling, it’s all downhill for her now. I wouldn’t be surprised if she up and left town by the end of the month.”
The name was on the tip of Trixie’s tongue, yet it remained elusive. That voice was so distinct, yet the face that accompanied it refused to come to her. Come now, Trixie knows this. Daritie? Charity? A quiet grunt followed her mental train of thought. Charity sounds about right. Goodness, one would think Trixie would remember such a town as this.
And yet, for all her vast knowledge, the Great and Powerful Trixie was powerless to conjure up a single memory of the town that she had made such a violent impact on. The faces of the ponies that strode by her were those of strangers. The local landmarks did nothing to help orient her. The street signs might as well have been written in a foreign language.
“Harmony Street? Alicorn Avenue? Trixie remembers none of these,” she fumed. This is not going to make finding her way around any easier. Despite the brevity of her last stay, she had still forgone buying a map of the town to help her navigate on the grounds of, “Trixie will remember where to go. She remembers like she is remembered, after all.”
Though the logic had been sound enough to float at the time, she now found it clearly riddled with holes, and sinking fast. Great. Now Trixie needs to find that stupid library and that stupid Twilight Sparkle all on her own. That's just fantastic.
Hoping that dramatic convenience would be on her side, she took a quick glance around at the surrounding buildings to see if she had naturally stumbled on the treehome. Unfortunately, no such luck was in store for her—the structures around her were all decidedly not trees. "Ugh, don’t tell Trixie she has to ask for directions.” The very notion that she would have to go up to a random pony, put on a polite grin, and pray to the Goddesses that her target wasn’t a scatterbrain made the unicorn shake uncontrollably in disgust.
If there was one thing that Trixie despised, it was having to beg for help from a common pony. Impatiently searching her mind for an alternative solution, she decided to take off in a random direction and see where that took her.
It only took a few minutes of brisk trotting around the town in a complete daze for Trixie to realize that this may have been a mistake. Despite the small size of the town, the houses and businesses were all nearly identical save their color, blending into one indistinguishable rainbow-smeared background that made it nearly impossible to navigate. "Trixie thinks she has seen this building before." The showpony gave a confused, irritated glance at the distressingly familiar-looking building beside her. She just walked in a circle, didn’t she.
Unfortunately, a set of familiar-sized hoofprints spaced out right in front of her, sloping gently around the bend and out of sight, confirmed her fear. Trixie tried to bare her teeth and growl at the ground, but all that came up was a weak, defeated huff. "Fine. Trixie will ask for directions. But just this once! She doesn't want to make a habit out of surrendering her dignity." Her sharp lavender eyes made a quick scan of the nearby crowds, looking out in particular for any smarter-looking ponies in the hopes that they wouldn't lead her on a wild goose chase.
Ah, there we are. A trio of brightly colored, hopefully intelligent mares stood conveniently close to the showpony, whispering in conspiratorial tones about whatever slander they had decided to make up for their own entertainment today. A rather gossipy bunch, but they will do. Without another thought on the matter, she broke her stare and strode right up to the mares, fluffing her mane as she suddenly realized how much prettier than her they looked.
Nevermind how attractive they are, she thought. They're just ditzy noponies who will be forgotten as soon as they quit making up hurtful stories about their friends. "Hello there." Trixie's voice popped into falsetto range as she put on a forced smile. "I am Trixie—but she is sure you already knew that." The trio just stared at her dumbly, shocked by the presence of a new pony in their clique. "Er, yes. Would any of you happen to know where the residence of Twilight Sparkle is?"
For their part, the three mares still stared slack-jawed at the newcomer. The pure confusion radiating off of them almost gave Trixie an aneurysm. Finally, one of them, a creamy-beige earth pony with a rose stamped on her flank, sputtered, "Wait, who are you?"
Resisting the urge to facehoof, Trixie replied, "She already told you, she is Trixie. Formerly the Great and Powerful Trixie." Neither name seemed to register. "The showpony who came to your town a few years ago?" Still nothing. "The mare that almost destroyed your town?"
"I don't know," another mare stuttered. "There are a lot of ponies that tear this town apart on a regular basis. Oh, do you girls remember last week—that dreadful character Shadowblade-something-or-other nearly uprooted town hall! Well, I heard from a little bird around town that he had an affair with the mayor’s daughter!”
“Does the mayor even have a daughter?” Trixie tuned out of the rest of the conversation, instead opting to turn and leave the gossipers to their petty stories in disgust. Let them revel in their lies—they would be of no help to her anyway. Hmph, just another pony in this town that’s too ignorant to remember such an amazing mare as Trixie. She wouldn’t be surprised if nopony in this whole town remembered her—
A harsh, internal chill swept over her fur, causing it to stand on end. W-well, maybe not. Trixie has to be remembered.
And yet, she wasn’t. That fact alone made her stomach shrivel up and her lungs tighten as if they were caught in a vice. The chill returned again in force, freezing her bones before surging into a cold stare aimed at the light-toned conspirators. It was good that they don’t remember Trixie. They don’t deserve to know of Trixie’s greatness. The burning ache in her lungs was the only indication that she wasn’t fooling herself.
Surely though, this sort of mental incompetence was just an isolated incident. It would be improbable—nay, impossible—for everypony in the entire town to have forgotten about Trixie. After all she did to cement herself in the hearts and minds of the populace, would some of them really do something as terrible as forget about her?
And through all of this mental anguish, she still didn't bother to ask the mares for directions. Trixie looked around, but a weighted pit sitting in her stomach prevented her from focusing properly. The next pony she talks to better be able to help her, she thought drearily as another passerby caught her eye. “Sir,” she called, spitting the word out like it was foreign (as most common terms of respect were to Trixie). “Do you happen to know where the home of Twilight Sparkle is?”
The stallion turned. “Oh—yes. Just take a right here, then keep walking until you hit a really big tree, you can’t miss it. That’ll be Miss Sparkle’s house.”
Finally, somepony who was actually worth the air they breathed. “Thank you,” Trixie sighed. “She’ll just be going now—” Wait. That pit in her stomach burned again, white hot with coiled anxiety. This stallion is obviously no dummy. He just has to remember who Trixie is. “Actually, there is one more question.”
“Shoot.”
“Do... do you know who the Great and Powerful Trixie is?” Every cliffhanger to every book in the galaxy manifested itself into the growing knot in her gut.
“Hmm,” The passerby put his hoof to his chin in thought. “No, sorry, I can’t seem to recall anypony with that name around here—hey, where are you going?”
Trixie abandoned the conversation as soon as the word “no” left the stallion’s lips, plodding dejectedly to the home of Twilight Sparkle. The ball in her stomach seemed to explode, sending spears of pain soaring straight through her heart. She should have felt infuriated by the pedestrian’s inability to recognize Trixie. She should have felt the same anger and disgust that she felt for anypony when they refused to recognize her.
But all she could feel was disappointment, spearheaded by razor-sharp shame. How do these ponies not remember me? There has to be one pony here who remembers me—even one! Selective choice thrown to the wind, Trixie practically bounded up to the first pony she saw and gave them a panicked look. “Do you know who Trixie is?”
“Is she the pony that’s intruding on my personal space?”
Groaning, she tossed the frightened passerby aside and strode up to another one nearby. “Do you remember Trixie's name?"
"Should I have?"
Another scream. "Yes, you should have! Why do you think Trixie is the way she is? She wants to be remembered!"
"Ma'am, you're scaring me."
"Gah, forget this nonsense!” With a start, she shoved the frightened pedestrian away, as if just being next to them was a cardinal sin. “Trixie is getting out of this town as soon as she can, and when she does, there will be Tartarus to pay—" Her heated ramblings were cut off as she felt a subtle coolness creep over her fur.
She looked up to find herself under the shadow of a positively massive tree. A tree with distinctively lavender-tinted windows. A tree with a sign out front, bearing a single opened book on its face. A tree that looked exactly like the home of Twilight Sparkle.
“Oh. Trixie is here.”
All the rage and panic and confusion that swirled in her head became massive lead carriages, rushing at each other at top speed with Trixie caught in the middle. They collided with earth-shattering force, crushing the air out of Trixie’s lungs as their metal bodies twisted and mangled themselves into one big emotional pile-up in her head.
Part of Trixie wanted to turn tail and run. Another part of her wanted to lob fireballs at the flammable treehouse. In the end, she did neither, choosing instead to stare dumbly at the thousands of leaves as they shook gently in the breeze.
How long had Trixie waited for this? Not long enough, in her opinion. She would have been fine to let this gnarled tree and the unicorn inside of it slip out of her memory forever. After all, the mare beyond those wodden walls was nothing more than a catalyst leading to her forced exile. How anypony short of Celestia herself had convinced her to even come back here was beyond her. Just goes to show Trixie how good Doctor Dyadics is at making ponies suffer. Or is that part of his job description as well?
But would ridding her mind of the lavender mare like she never existed in the first place be right of her? She knew better than most that ignorance was deadlier than any blade, and Trixie would be stabbing it into the heart of the very mare who had fixed her faults here. After all the destruction she had wrought on this town, and how selflessly Twilight Sparkle had defended it, did Trixie deserve to willfully forget about a mare as good as her?
No.
Her mind hesitated to accept the answer, but quickly enough it became apparent that it would not be fair at all. As much as Trixie hated to admit it, Twilight Sparkle did not deserve to be be willfully forgotten. It pained Trixie to say it, but Twilight Sparkle was a better mare than her. And having a gaping black hole of hatred and resentment where that memory would normally rest would be downright disrespectful. She wasn’t totally heartless, after all.
“Doctor Dyadics wants closure? He’s got it.” Without pausing to think the situation through properly, she strode right up to the door and gave it a solid knock. A million tiny pinpricks ran through her hoof as they rapped on the door, almost as if the wood itself carried an electrical current. Trixie took a deep breath, focusing on anything but the impending confrontation with the pony that had catapulted her into local infamy, or judging by her encounters with the townsfolk, cold-shouldered anonymity.
The door rattled, sending an equally-potent shiver through Trixie’s spine. The knob twisted, causing her gut to flip in tandem with the polished brass. A light thump resonated from behind the door, mirroring Trixie’s thunderous heartbeat.
And then the door was open. For all that suspense, the reveal itself felt much more anticlimactic that Trixie would have liked. Oh, if only Trixie had her cape and hat back, she could have made a spectacular entrance. There, in front of her, stood Twilight Sparkle. She hadn’t changed a bit since their last encounter, her hair still falling so perfectly horizontal at her forehead it drove Trixie insane, and her soft, innocent stare making Trixie feel a bit jealous that she couldn’t have such a naturally flawless look.
“Twilight Sparkle.” There was no cordiality to Trixie’s voice, just a clinical coolness, devoid of emotion like a sterile hospital room is of germs. “Please, for the love of Celestia, tell me you know who I am.”
At first, only confusion registered on the librarian’s face. Thankfully though, her eyes dilated in sudden recognition. “Trixie? The Great and Powerful Trixie?” Her voice was incredulous, but equally curious. “You’re here. In Ponyville. You’re actually back here in Ponyville! What are you doing here?”
Trixie scoffed. “At least somepony remembers me. And as for why I’m here... I think it would be best if we talked inside. Do you mind if Trixie comes in?” The showpony dragged a hoof along the dirt, suddenly bashful. “Trixie does not like discussing personal matters in public.”
“Oh, yes—of course.” Twilight awkwardly shuffled to one side, allowing Trixie to trot into the library home before shutting the door behind her.
“Thank you.” The inside of the library was much more spacious than Trixie had imagined, and all the books gave the room a classic, intellectual feel. It would have been even better if the presence of a certain lavender unicorn didn’t make Trixie’s fur crawl. “So, Trixie assumes you’re wondering why she’s here.”
“Well, yes, to be frank.” She circled Trixie, keeping a keen eye on her like the showpony would disappear if she looked away. “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you since you ran out of town all that time ago—” Her curious eyes suddenly went wide, and she slapped a hoof over her muzzle. “Oh no, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.”
“Oh no, that’s alright. Actually, that’s partially why Trixie came here in the first place.” Trixie’s horn sizzled and lit up, magicking a small note card into existence in front of her. “Trixie wrote this in advance, in case she froze up when she got here.” Clearly, she is going to need it if she doesn’t want to screw this up for a second time. She cleared her throat. “Ahem. Hello, Twilight Sparkle.”
Her voice sounded hollow, well rehearsed, like she was talking through a plastic jug. “Tr—I am Trixie, formerly the Great and Powerful Trixie.” After the incident in Ponyville,” her voice faltered as the foreign sensation of speaking in first-pony tied her tongue, but she managed to soldier through her hesitation. “I returned to my place of birth, in Manehattan. There I was hired onto a local performing arts show as the lead magician in one of their acts. I thought I was set, and that my less-than-stellar career as a traveling showpony was over for good.
“But I wasn’t. I still had a near-uncontrollable anger, which hindered me greatly and almost cost me my job on several different occasions. I also suffered from an irrational phobia of bears.” At the mere mention of the b-word, Trixie’s eyes darted nervously around the room, scanning for a sign of any stray bears that may have infiltrated the library while she was distracted.
“Anyways, I didn’t want to lose my job, so with the backing of my employers, I went to a therapist by the name of Doctor Dyadics. To make a long story short, he told me that the only thing preventing me from letting my anger go was the memory of what happened in your town, and that the only way to reconcile with that was to come here and reconcile with you. He said it would give me closure—even though Trixie thinks that idea is nothing but foolishness.
“So, here I am. I would like to formally ask you to accept my most gracious apologizesoh Trixie can’t take this anymore.” Nostrils flaring, Trixie’s horn flashed again, this time in exasperated fury, turning the notecard into a small puddle on the floor. “Trixie hates prepared speeches. Twilight Sparkle, Trixie wanted to apologize and try and make amends with the townsponies, she really did. She just wants this whole stupid chapter of her life to end so she can find the book it’s written in and burn it.
“All this pent-up anger is putting Trixie’s life on hold, and she wants to get back to performing—you know how much she loves performing.” A forlorn look wormed its way onto her face. “She just wants to put this whole mess behind her.” That forlorn look suddenly hardened, super-heated by bitterness to a diamond-hardness. “But it seems that everypony in town has already forgotten about Trixie, much less forgiven her.”
“Forgotten about you?” The confused look that Twilight wore when Trixie first appeared on her doorstep returned in force. “What are you talking about?”
Trixie snorted, a small spark of fire igniting in her eyes. “Oh please, Twilight Sparkle, don’t be so naive. Not a single pony that Trixie has talked to today even remembers her!” The fire inside of her flickered, wavering under a whirlwind of doubt. “It’s almost like Trixie wasn’t even here in the first place.”
“So, what?” The two simple words uttered by Twilight had the same reaction on Trixie as a hard slap to the face. Interpreting the showpony’s deranged twitching as an invitation to continue, she added, “Based on what happened the last time you were here, I think it would be a good thing that not a lot of ponies remember you.”
“So what? So what?” The fire, stoked by the simple two-word phrase, roared back to life. “Trixie needs to be remembered, that’s what! Why do you think Trixie acts the way she does—why do you think she became a showpony in the first place? She does it so she can be remembered. All the good Trixie did, all the bad Trixie did—it was so her name would never die out, even after she had. Trixie doesn’t care if she’s remembered for being a saint or a demon. Ponies of the future deserve to know about Trixie and her greatness.”
“But that’s preposterous,” rebuked Twilight. “Why on earth would you want to be remembered as a bad pony?”
“B-because, I—don’t, no, can’t—Gah!” The showpony finally snapped, venting her frustration in a long, loud scream. After sufficiently depleting her lungs of oxygen and her brain of excess rage, all that was left of the fuming mare’s rage was a pathetic whimper. “I—I’m scared, okay? There, I said it. I am scared of being forgotten.”
“If nopony remembers me, then my life will have been nothing but a waste. I am not willing to become another faceless pony that lives and dies without ever doing anything worthy of merit. I will not allow myself to be used as a catalyst for some greater scheme, then tossed to the wayside to be forgotten. I will make the world remember the my name."
Twilight tried to respond, but she was shushed by the showmare, clearly bent on a long-winded rant. “Perhaps it just hasn’t clicked with you, Twilight Sparkle. You’re the student of Celestia herself, and one of the most powerful unicorns in all of Equestria—though still not as powerful as I. You never needed to look for fame; it was always just shoveled into your lap, regardless of whether you looked for it or not.
“But I had to start from nothing. I worked so hard for what I had earned. Am I just going to let all that work be for naught the instant I pass on?” A thousand memories of scrounging and begging and pleading for the means to get on her hooves and make something of herself flooded her mind and filled her with same dread that accompanied the acts of desperation all that time ago. “No, I will not let such a travesty happen. If I am not remembered, then what is the point of doing anything? If I am not remembered... then I might as well not have existed in the first place.
“That is why, Twilight Sparkle. I must be a pony so monumental, so stunningly fantastic that my name is forever seared into the hearts and minds of Equestria. Regardless of whether she enjoys doing it or not, this is the path she has chosen to walk.”
For a moment, the poignantly razor-sharp point buried itself into Twilight’s mind, paralyzing her in thoughtful silence. The lavender mare stayed that way for a moment, poised on the precipice of thought, searching for something to show the showpony the error in her thoughts. Finally, she let out a strained laugh.
Wait, she laughed? “I—Trixie does not understand,” she muttered through her teeth as they steadily clenched shut like a slowly-tightening vice. “Why are you laughing at her? Trixie did not intend to be comedic.” Nostrils flaring, she added, “Is this degradation some sort of bizarre friendship ritual?”
Twilight laughed again. Why is she doing that? This is not doing anything for Trixie’s anger management. “No, Trixie, no it’s not. It’s just that there’s more to just having your name in lights forever, you know.” The unicorn walked towards the front door, a knowing smile on her lips. “I think you just need to see that.” Encompassing the doorknob with a bright flash of magic, she all but yanked the door open and motioned for Trixie to follow her outside. “Come on, I need to show you something.”
Obediently, if not hesitantly, Trixie followed the other unicorn’s instructions and shuffled out the door. “Trixie deman—no, Trixie asks where you are taking her. She has the feeling this may turn out to be a wild goose chase.” Wild goose chase was putting it lightly—Trixie mentally prepared herself for anything from a humiliating prank that would tear down her already-weakened walls of fortitude to a weird friendship cult. With the way Twilight Sparkle valued friendship, it wouldn’t surprise Trixie if she had taken it to an extreme level.
“We’re going to the edge of town, to a little field out there near the Everfree forest. But it isn't the field that I want you to see." Still wearing that same unnerving smile, Twilight waved her hoof and led Trixie away from the library and towards the fringes of Ponyville, charting a straight path towards the same spot where she had first emerged from the Everfree only a short while ago.
"Twilight Sparkle, Trixie must protest. This whole endeavor, though born of noble intentions, seems rather pointless." In a more hushed tone, she added, "Celestia forbid Trixie actually wants to go back to her former life or any other silly notion like that."
Apparently Twilight had a more acute sense of hearing than the performer had thought. "Don't worry Trixie,” she said teasingly, “this won't take too long. I just need to show you something that might change your mind a bit.” The showpony put on a valiant effort to appear disinterested, but the gravity of Twilight’s seemingly insignificant remark definitely served to pique her interest.
“Change Trixie’s opinion?” she grumbled to herself. “That is a very foolhardy endeavor.” Trixie wasn’t one for self-deprecation, but she knew a hopeless cause when she heard one. Still, her counterpart's proposition was, at the very least, a well-needed distraction from all the strife she had endured since her arrival in town. Trixie's going to need therapy for this therapy, her mind mumbled. Doctor Dyadics is never going to hear the end of this, if Trixie has anything to say about it—
"And we're here!" Twilight practically shouted into Trixie's ear, sending the performer’s immaculate hair into ten different directions of disarray.
Glaring daggers as she attempted to recollect herself and fix her frazzled mane, Trixie hissed, "Do not sneak up on Trixie like that."
"Heh, sorry." Quick to turn attention away from herself, a blushing Twilight directed Trixie’s gaze to the field beyond. "Now, I want you to look out at that field over there."
With Twilight's outstretched hoof guiding her, Trixie moved her focus to a nearby hill, its day-glow grass just barely cresting the horizon beyond it. Straining her eyes against the glare, Trixie murmured, "She sees... two colts." Indeed, a stout unicorn with faded aqua fur frolicked about with his friend, another unicorn sporting a dull, burnt-orange coat and a mangy mop of a mane.
"Good," replied Twilight. "Do you think they remember you?"
Now that was an easy one. "No," Trixie replied almost immediately, her voice solidifying into ice. "Nopony in town remembers Trixie. Why should these two be any different?"
Twilight nodded. "As much as I hate to say it, you're probably correct." Trixie made a move to speak as her brow furrowed with obvious discontent, but she found herself shushed by a lavender hoof. "Now look closely, and tell me if you remember them."
"Don't be silly Twilight Sparkle. You can't possibly expect Trixie to remember—" A harsh look from her companion cut her off. "Fine, fine, Trixie will try." She reluctantly turned her gaze back towards the two moving dots on the hill. Hmm, let's see. Now that Trixie thought about it, those two colored blips did look rather familiar. "Huh, Trixie thinks she might actually remember these two. What were their names, Snaps and Sails?"
Twilight giggled. "Try Snips and Snails."
Snips and Snails, what unusual names. Trixie wonders if their parents named them like that on purpose, her mind asked itself as it filled Trixie's head with the jumbled memories of the two’s actions on that fateful day—
"Wait a minute." The showpony stiffened, her contemplatively neutral face distorted with slow-building rage. "Trixie remembers those two. They were the ones who lured that Ursa into town! They were the ones who turned Trixie into an exiled outcast!" Hormones and blood rushed to her face as her horn flared to life with a searing light. "Trixie will destroy them!" Righteous anger mingling with adrenaline in her veins, she called to mind every last destructive magic spell in her arsenal as she focused on her targets. "They will pay for their insolence—hey!"
Trixie's rant was cut short as she felt her magic reserves shrivel and dissipate, all her anger-enhanced powers dying like a candle doused with water. Her vision swimming and her knees trembling like trees caught in a fierce storm, she turned her gaze to Twilight Sparkle. "What is the meaning of this? What did you do?"
"Magic-depletion spell," she replied, shrugging as if such a complex spell hadn't even been the slightest bit difficult to cast. "Listen, Trixie, you can't just keep on harboring a grudge against everypony who's done you harm, whether they've meant to do it or not." She stepped closer to Trixie. "I've already forgiven you for what happened the last time you were here. Now you need to step up and start forgiving.”
Judging by the twisted look of anger on her face, Trixie didn't even want to look at them right now, much less forgive them. But even as feral as her rage was, it still seemed to take nothing more than a few words from her counterpart to evaporate it all in a hot rush of steam. She sighed forlornly. Did it really take so little to turn such a normally-spiteful pony like her docile? “Trixie does not want to forgive them.” The words became molasses, slowly dripping out of her mouth. " But, if you think it will help somehow, then Trixie will do it. It pains her to say, but Trixie forgives them for what they did."
Her words were hollow, and not as sincere as Twilight would have liked. But it was enough. "Good. Now look closely at them and tell me what they're doing."
Straining her eyes, the showmare did her best to pick out the two shapes against the sea of green. "It looks like..." She drew out her words, as if speaking slower would help her see farther. "It looks like they're practicing magic?" Squinting, she could just make out the faint, pulsing glow of two undersized horns, capturing scattered tufts of dirt and pebbles in their struggling grasp.
"Yes, yes they are. And why do you think they’re doing that?”
“Because that’s what most unicorn foals their age do?”
Twilight's shoulders fell. "No Trixie, don't you get it? They're practicing magic because you inspired them to practice it!"
There was a beat of silence as Twilight's words began to sink in—or, in Trixie's case, bounce off the surface like a rubber ball being thrown against a brick wall. "But Twilight, you said it yourself. Those two don't remember Trixie at all. How in Equestria could Trixie have inspired them to do anything if they can't even remember her name?"
“Isn’t it obvious?” Twilight replied, as if the answer was spelled out behind her in giant neon lettering. “Those two spent the most time around you when you were in town—why do you think that?”
“Invalid question—everypony wants to be around Trixie.”
Twilight rolled her eyes at the sentiment, finding it harder and harder to ignore the showpony’s airship-sized ego. “They gravitated toward you because they wanted to be like you—well, not like your ego, anyway.” Ignoring a searing glare from Trixie, she averted her eyes back to the playful colts in the distance with a bashful blush.
"They may not be able to remember your name, but they will remember how much joy emulating your actions brought them. And that will stick with them longer than any name." The lavender mare inched closer to Trixie and laid a hoof on her shoulder. "I understand that you want to be remembered—who doesn’t? We all want to see tangible signs that our lives are meaningful, no matter how small those signs may be. But if we built monuments for every single little act of charity and kindness, we would eventually drown ourselves in marble and polished stone."
Twilight risked a sideways glance, just long enough to see her companion staring at her in contemplative silence. "However," she continued, "just because you may not be remembered for what you do, it doesn't mean you still can’t make a lasting impression on them.”
For a long minute, Trixie just stood there, staring absentmindedly off into the distance. Finally, she managed to mumble, “So... even if Trixie isn’t immortalized, she has still changed ponies' lives—even though they can’t even remember her name?”
“And who knows how many lives you’ve touched without your knowing? How many ponies did you perform for back in Manehatten? Hundreds? Thousands?” If those words had been spoken by any different pony on any different day, Trixie would have had a good laugh and dismissed the sentiment as corny and downright stupid. But coming from Twilight Sparkle, the one pony whose thoughts held even an ounce of worth to Trixie, they strung together and hit her in the gut with all the force of a sumare wrestler.
It went without saying that Trixie had a lot to think about. The ninety-nine percent of her brain that clung to its own breed of undeniable Trixie-logic held its metaphorical nose high with its typical zealous flair. A touching sentiment, for sure, but still nothing but hollow words. What power do they have if they don't have the facts to back them up? Those colts will never remember Trixie, regardless of whether she 'inspired them' or not. Her mind sneered the last words, causing her nose to scrunch up into a tight, wrinkled knot. It won't matter, it never will. Trixie must only think of fame, the one thing that outlasts death.
The egomaniacal and downright negative train of thought certainly dominated her mind, barreling into any dissent like a real train and pushing it out of existence. It wasn't a new feeling to Trixie, though—that was how it always had been. But then why, thought the showmare, as the cauldron of confusion in her belly threatened to boil over, does Trixie hear a voice of opposition? Indeed, for all the hundreds of harsh, apathetic thoughts that passed through her mind, one single voice of sympathy weaseled its way out of the woodwork and screamed at the top of its lungs, proclaiming the virtue of simply helping other ponies without seeking eternal fame and fortune in the process.
Trixie... Trixie is conflicted. she failed in her pursuit here, and because of it those colts will never be able to inscribe her name into history. She failed. She did not succeed. Regardless of whether she impacted them, her trials and tribulations were all for naught. But when she sees how she changed those colts, even though they won’t ever so much as recall her name... this is all very confusing.
Finding no solutions to the internal strife in her own jumbled mind, she turned to the lavender mare for wisdom—a quality she seemed to exude in rivers. “Twilight Sparkle, why are you so keen on putting Trixie’s impact over Trixie’s image? Why did you go through such lengths to show her all this?”
Taking a deep breath as if she was preparing some long-winded rant, Twilight began, “Well, as much as you may want to deny it, you still have a place here, and I’d like to consider you a friend—even if you still don’t like me. And sometimes, when a pony leads themselves down a bad road, it’s up to that pony’s friends to show them the way back. I just wanted to show you that your actions will never be forgotten, even if your name doesn't share the same fate.”
The single, strained voice crying out against the apathetic sneer in her head finally found momentum and took purchase, growing from a hoarse whisper into a riotous roar in an instant. The surge of self-doubt swirled in her head and turned her thought process into a jumbled heap of twisted, half-baked screams and shouts.
Through the haze, a single thought emerged. “Twilight Sparkle?” Trixie stuttered, her stare melting into a soft, confused glance that vaguely reminded Twilight of a lost child. “Do you know of ponies who go about the day doing what they love to do, even if they know they'll never get famous for it, never be remembered for it, or even receive so much as a ‘thank you' for it?"
Twilight nodded, signaling Trixie to continue. "She used to think of them as fools—all of them, absolute fools. Fools who couldn't come to grips with reality, fools who couldn't open their eyes wide enough to see that the world around them didn't care if they were happy and was quite content to stomp all over their precarious existences the moment they no longer mattered to the bigger picture." She trailed off, her eyes refusing to focus on any single thing as they darted around in their sockets. "I used to think them fools."
A moment of silence brought the ebbing sound of nature around them back to the forefront. "And you know what, Twilight Sparkle?" A thin smile cracked through her facade. "I still think that they are all absolute fools. Every last one of them—the bakers, the florists, the salesponies, the artists—all absolutely batty." The chirping of the birds and the rustling of the wind through the trees were joined by another sound, a light, wistful chuckle threading its way through the wind.
The showpony let out a sigh, deflating her smile as if it were a balloon. "I know you want to see me reformed by mere words, Twilight Sparkle, but I simply can't be. I still want to be remembered. I want to be as carefree and happy as the ponies I talked about before, but I am just not ready for that." As soon as words came out of her mouth, Twilight's face fell in resigned failure.
"But," Twilight looked up as Trixie continued, a spark of hope ignitng in her eyes, “I think I understand them—or, at least why they are the way they are. I can't say I agree with their philosophies... but I understand them. And that's a start." Seemingly satisfied with her response, Trixie nodded her head briefly and busied herself with kicking at the dirt under her hooves as she watched the sun in its orbit.
A contented silence fell over the duo as they both stared out, entranced in thought, over the hilly horizon. The sun, just beginning to wane in its trip across the sky, bled its radiant light over the earth, turning the already-glowing fields into a shimmering, cornea-searing sea of green. The two dots of color still danced merrily in the middle of it, completely oblivious to the two ponies on the nearby knoll looking in their general direction.
"So, Trixie." Twilight almost felt bad about breaking the silence—it was all so peaceful, and she hated to see such a serene moment slip away. "Did you find that closure you were looking for?"
A long pause. Then, "To be honest, I am not quite sure. I suppose only time will tell."
"Good, that's good." Twilight tried to continue but found herself hesitating. Through gritted teeth she barely managed to stammer, "So what are you going to do now?" before her conscience could stop her from prying into the personal life of a pony in such a fragile state as Trixie.
However, her apprehensions were all for naught. The showpony took the invasive question in stride, pursing her lips in thought. "Hmm... that is a good question, Twilight Sparkle. Once I get back to Manehatten, I can start performing again—that will be nice. Perhaps I'll try and wean myself off therapy, too. Doctor Dyadics always did tend to overcharge me."
Twilight was about to respond, but Trixie cut her off. "There is one more thing I could think of. There's a little orphanage a couple of blocks south of my flat. The foals there, they're not very well-off, to say the least, and I think that they could use a little bit of magic in their lives. Perhaps the Great and Powerful Trixie could spare some time in her busy schedule to make a weekly appearance."
Twilight smiled, a weary grin that lifted her shoulders just a little bit higher. "You know, you won't ever get famous for doing something like that."
"Perhaps. But a smart pony once told Trixie that fame and immortality aren't the most important things in a pony's life." They both shared a wry, almost cocky grin. "Trixie thinks you would like her. She’s—what's the word you might use—an egghead." Twilight's grin evaporated faster than a rain cloud in the desert, and she barely had time to shout a bemused “Hey!” before Trixie had vanished from her side, strutting with her usual confident gait towards a massive, imposing green blob lurking on the edge of the horizon.
"Trixie!" Twilight pushed herself into a quick gallop in order to catch up to her companion. "Why are you just walking off all of a sudden? We were having such a good talk!"
As Twilight struggled to match Trixie's long strides, the showpony couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Because, Twilight Sparkle, Trixie needs to go now. She's gotten her closure—at least she hopes so—and now it's time for her to head back to Manehatten. She has a rather comfy life back in the city, and intends to make the most of it." Her eyes returned to the dark mass occupying the crest of a nearby hill. "She needs to go through the Everfree in order to get to the road that leads back to the city. It's a three day trip to get through the woods themselves, and Trixie would like to get going before nightfall."
"Just like that? You're not taking any supplies, or charms to protect yourself, or—"
"Twilight, please!" Trixie shushed her like it was the most natural thing in the world, casting a brisk smile at her as she did. "Trixie is the most powerful unic—err, one of the most powerful unicorns in all of Equestria! She can handle herself." Twilight was about to respond with more subdued incredulity, but her intended target had already begun to saunter away, her silver mane billowing in the breeze as she retreated from earshot towards the Everfree.
Dear Princess Celestia,
Today I reconnected with an old friend who, surprisingly enough, wasn't always my friend. In fact, up until today her name would be quite high on the entire town's "enemy list," if such a thing existed. Her desire to be remembered had landed her in some hot water, and by the time she had seen the error of her ways and came to apologize, everypony had already forgotten about her and moved on with their lives.
Friendships, like ponies, are all worth remembering. Each friendship has its own unique story, each friend their own insightful wisdom to share. Both are worthy of a novel of the greatest detail—yet, as you and I both know, many ponies live their whole lives in obscurity without ever receiving so much as a "thank you" for all that they do.
Sometimes, ponies who do good things don't get recognized for it. Other times, ponies who don't deserve fame at all get more than their fair share of it. No matter where we may fall on that scale, we must remember that everypony deserves to know that what they do in life is important, even if it may not seem like it.
In the end, we need to find things in others' lives that are worth remembering, and work to be the types of ponies that others simply cannot forget.
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle.
Putting the pen down, Twilight Sparkle paused to admire her latest letter. After a quick once-over to check for any glaring grammatical errors, she nodded in approval and called upstairs for Spike. Her horn lit up with a vibrant purple glow as the parchment rolled itself into a tight cylinder, suspended in a pulsing glow of magic as she sealed it with a thick, lavender wax.
As she waited for her number one assistant to whisk the letter away in a jet of green flame, she tossed a fleeting glance out of her window in the direction of the Everfree forest on the horizon beyond town. For a second, she thought she saw a blue dot against the darkened green rampart, standing stoically still as it cast one final look over the town. But then it was gone, melding into the the treeline and disappearing from sight with the last dying rays of the sun.
Edited by Dezi94, Maskedferett, Acreuball, and especially Starfall.