...Have been greatly exaggerated
The cold touch of the chains sent a shiver down her spine. Not out of fear or anxiety, but cold, or so Trixie told herself. It was funny, she thought; how, out of the three, that one was the feeling she had not fully become accustomed to, though soon that cold from the steel snake embracing her body would be reduced to nothing compared to the cold of the water she was about to get thrown into.
She squirmed around and tried to make herself a bit more comfortable. After making sure the chains were tight, she took a quick glance at her audience. Their faces were not that familiar, but their expectant eyes sure were. All eyes on her, soon to be filled with joy, amazement, horror -whatever she commanded- in mere minutes.
But that wasn't for her to worry about.
Averting her gaze from the crowd and towards the ground, Trixie let her assistant lift her on top of the pool. Once, and only once she was done with the trick, she would earn the right to look at the audience again, in the eyes, to see that gleam of wonder she so craved. The right to live one day more in search of it.
Her own reflection on the water stared her back as the pulley elevated her in the air, slowly. She gulped. This was an act completely foreign to her. Never had she ever seen a pony so daring as to replicate it. Her rehearsals paled in comparison. Pictures of the next few minutes crossed her mind: Her being shoved gut first into a sucker-punch filled ice bath; The water threatening to invade her throat as the chains constrains her moves. This for two minutes before drowning in agony. The slightest mistake or ill timed setback, and her legacy would go down the drain, forever remembered for what she could not do. It was to either swim, or sink.
She was shaking, but not from the cold.
All of her emotions had culminated to this very point. Magnified. Sharpened into lethal blades of thought. It was exhilarating, the sheer power she felt concentrated in her bloodstream. She surrendered to her instincts. This is what made her feel alive.
Life has no meaning besides the one you ascribe to it.
Having repeated her mantra, the spectacle could begin.
"And now, for my final trick..."
Trixie opened her eyes. The crash of a prop box falling, pushed by her own body, interrupted her dream. As birds chirped outside the wagon, she wondered if it were morning already. The sun rays streaming directly into her eyes confirmed this suspicion.
Latching onto her sheets, she groaned loudly. Some time ago, she would have been riveted to start the day and get onto practicing every trick there was under the sun. She missed those times.
The time to practice had passed though. Following the alicorn amulet debacle, she had become old news for the ponies of Ponyville and beyond. Word got around that she had probably starved to death in the middle of the road, with her caravan becoming an unmarked grave for that one unicorn who challenged Twilight Sparkle and lost. But no, here she was, at the throat of her destiny after a three day trek to kick off her magic tour. She was ready to dispel those rumors.
Or was she?
Part of her wished she could still cancel it.
Oversleep. Again. Ugh, she thought. A quick look at the clock to her left told her she had five minutes before it began. No show today, I guess. She would probably achieve the same by staying in bed anyway.
All the time spent rehearsing her magic routine, putting up signs and announcements... it would go to waste. As weak as that reason was against the rest of existence, it had enough strength to push her out of the hammock after a slow and lazy legs stretch. Rubbing her eyes, Trixie took a moment to let her dizziness —product of the sudden jump— fade away. She opened them again to find that the clock was actually marking ten and a half. Still an hour to go.
Trixie could hear the hammock calling her name. To only lay down a bit more... She looked at it longingly. A roar coming from her stomach dispelled any wishes of doing so. Perhaps breakfast would give her the energy she needed. It was tempting to half-cook something on the spot, but she couldn’t bother to locate the cookware among all the boxes, neither did she have the space to do so for that same reason. Putting on her cape and hat, she grabbed a couple of bits and dragged her hooves to the door, off to the local cafeteria.
Before she could reach the handle, almost hesitating with every step, she failed to notice a bundle of fireworks at her hooves. She just barely managed not to trip and get out of the wagon rolling, but couldn't do anything about the mountains of props she knocked over in return.
She coughed and covered her eyes until the literal dust from the boxes had settled. It was then when she saw it. On a vintage poster hung on a wall, there it was, immortalized; the image of the legendary magician Hoofdini inside a pony-sized steel container sealed by several locks, water pouring down on him.
“The great Hoofdini,” she acknowledged, her mouth curving into a smile, one word at a time, “cheats death once again.”
Those words still managed to give her goosebumps every time she read them, be it as a foal or a grown mare. She could still feel the amazement when her father told her stories of him escaping impossible restraints, pulling off tricks, and laughing at the face of potential doom even when all the cards were stacked against him, only to come out on top and live for centuries in his admirer's hearts as the greatest magician Equestria had ever seen.
All that while being a School-For-Gifted-Unicorns’ dropout. Just how Trixie had been.
The dust, the rags, and other signs of time passage didn't matter. It was still the same poster that had awoken something deep inside of her.
Everytime she felt her confidence falter before a show, or when the idea of rehearsing a really complex trick felt daunting, the sight of the poster never failed to help her to keep moving forward. To remind her that one doesn't have to be powerful in order to be great.
She gave the poster a last look of determination before opening the door, stepping outside the wagon. Nothing held her back anymore. A show had been promised, and she was not one to deceive her audience. Not in that manner at least.
But first, breakfast!
“Fillies and gentlecolts, put your hooves together for the Great and Powerful Trixie! She is here to wow us with her wit, to dazzle us with her dastardliness, to utterly defy the laws of reality with her otherworldly powers! ...But first, how about we start with some warm-up tricks?”
Trixie bowed in front of her audience, and reached out to a pony in front of her. From beyond his ear, she then produced a card. To his gasp, she raised it up.
"An ordinary card," she declared. "Is it not?"
Then, suddenly, she tossed the card forward. It flew above the ponies' heads, spinning wildly. Before it could hit the ground, it was gone. And the next moment, it was back. And there was another, and another - a full stack of cards, splitting and circling around the crowd. Trixie grinned as she watched the crowd's heads bobbing and turning. The cards split into three circles, intersecting, raising, then colliding in the air, until a single card fell down.
"An ordinary card," Trixie repeated.
Thunderous cheers vibrated through the entire street. It had been probably so long since this town had heard that song. For Trixie it had, at least. Now, she was waiting for the only thing missing, which she was sure would come this time. A thing which resonated with something deep in her heart.
She waited expectantly.
Nothing.
Even as a jaded adult, and magic, be it unicorn magic or any other kind, having lost its novelty, there was something magical about instilling wonder. For Trixie, who never had it in her to learn at the same pace as other unicorns to use her gift granted by design, it meant she could enjoy that wonder vicariously through the audience reaction.
Every second of the months of practicing and rehearsal, every inch of the showmareship learning curve, every trick that made every show, it all built up to that very moment of external catharsis. That she had come to learn during the extent of her career.
And it was a perfect opening; she knew it, she saw it on their faces. She saw them cheer and laugh! She spun the card in the air wildly and made it explode into a burst of sparks.
The audience rejoiced!
Still it wasn't there. Not for her.
Her heart could not touch their joy.
Trixie couldn't remember how long it had been since she had rejoiced in her audience’s entertainment.
Glancing at the crowd to find the source being only three foals didn't help either.
Taking a look at her audience of three, she wondered if she would even get so far into the show. The street she was performing on was not exactly empty, but, for its passersby, she may as well not have been there. It was no Ponyville either, but the ambience made her believe otherwise. She was glad it wasn't Ponyville. If a certain unicorn saw her in such a state…
Immediately she shook those thoughts out of her head. She had gotten out of her bed, and she was doing the deed. The show had only just begun, and she had already lit the flame of excitement within her audience, and all that was left was to foster it and keep it alive.
The show went on according to her plans, just as she had trained. The card burst into flames and was remade as an origami phoenix. That same phoenix squawked out a favorite song before bursting into flame again. Everything went right. But with each trick, with each cheer, the gap between the audience and her widened.
Three.
By the end of it, all she could do was to throw a smirk at the audience of excited fillies and colts. Surely, more ponies would join and tag along as the show progressed. There were still lots of tricks left in her arsenal; those thus far were merely a taste of what was to come after all.
"Count them!" Trixie yelled out, hoping she did not sound desperate. The cards split in mid-air. "One! Two! Three!"
One filly, two colts, three ponies in total.
Three.
“And now," she said shakingly, "for my next trick— “
“Summon an Ursa Major!”
“Yeah, that would be rad!” At the suggestion of their friend, the other two fillies were more hyped up than before.
Had she been less annoyed by the interruption, she would have physically recoiled at the mention of an Ursa Major again. She thought against chastising them, but, above everything, she was a professional, and she knew that fillies would be fillies.
“I would be happy to oblige my enthusiastic audience, unfortunately we don’t have that much time today. Worry not though, for Trixie has even more impressive feats of magic up her sleeve!” She made sure to stress the word impressive.
“Oh, oh, can you give me wings to fly like a pegasus?” Another filly excitedly asked, prancing in place.
“Certainly, the Great and Powerful Trixie can, but that will have to wait for another show.” She winked.
“Is there anything you can do besides dumb card stuff?”
She really winced at that.
Trixie was no stranger to the blunt honesty of fillies, as they usually were her most endearing spectators. Sometimes they excitedly pointed out how they saw through her tricks the scarce times she messed up, which while irritating, couldn't be held against their childish innocence. What she never expected was for them to see right through her so soon.
“I think I'm off to play buckball. Wanna come?”
“Sure. You coming, Silver Lining?”
“Are you crazy? The show has just begun, I'm not missing this!” The one called Silver Lining protested.
The other two had already taken off. They shrugged and disappeared down the street. Now she was down to every showsmare nightmare: an audience of one.
“C’mon, what's next in store?” the one little colt who did not move an inch from his place asked. His eyes were filled with wonder; no doubt he was being honest about his intentions of staying until the very end of the show. And, no doubt, they would have fulfilled her the same way the initial cheers would have, but now that she was aware of her place in the world, they looked empty. There was no merit to be found.
Trixie simply couldn't keep up the act or, for the first time in her career as a magician, the magic show either. If she couldn't even fool some foals into thinking she was great or powerful, what was the point?
“The Great and— ” She tried to get the words out, but they got entangled in a lump in her throat. “I need to go. This is where the show ends.” Each of the words felt like a stab to her pride.
Disappointment replaced wonder in his eyes, something she was shamefully familiar with “What, why? You can’t leave yet—you had ‘more feats of magic upon your sleeve’, you said it!”
“The show is over.”
“Please, Miss Trixie, I'm excited to see where this goes. You got this!”
“I said the show’s over!” she yelled before bolting from the stage, avoiding the look of the colt, if only to conceal her tears.
She should have stayed in bed after all.
It was only at that moment when Trixie noticed how truly narrow her wagon was.
Every time she rolled around in her hammock, she would come face to face with a box full of magic props, used or unused, she couldn't really tell. Trixie was no hoarder, nor did she consider herself one, though she had the belief that any magic prop could shine at the right occasion. But, at times when she needed her space, it felt asphyxiating, as if she had been imprisoned by the lifestyle she herself agreed to commit to. And she hated that thought.
An hour had passed after her pathetic attempt at a magic show, and she still could not fall asleep no matter how much she tried. A nagging feeling inside of her clearly disagreed with the decision. She could not tell what exactly it was, but it would not let her just sleep the day away. All she wanted to do was to wake up in the land of dreams from the nightmare she was living.
The clouds eventually took over and rain started to pour down over the town. At least it provided her with a valid excuse to stay inside doing nothing. She also found the sound of the drops hitting her wagon relaxing, but not enough. She would have to force it, it seemed. And as if the universe listened, she saw a newspaper rolled inside one of the boxes on the floor next to her. Nothing was as sleep inducing to her as reading. Perfect idea.
Too lazy to reach for it she brought it forth with her horn, a task which her magic was still suited for. Flipping through the pages she glanced at the covers in search of an article that would keep her vaguely entertained. Maybe somepony was having it rougher than her. That, in a cynical manner, gave her hope of not being the most pitiful pony around.
“Fleur de Lis, caught having an affair?” She trailed off before flipping the page. Engaging in gossip would be a new low for her.
The page she landed in had a more impactful title, “A cart accident, 4 casualties, one of the involved a filly”. She squirmed a little when she reached that last part, the fillies of an hour prior coming to mind. In a morbid manner, Trixie couldn't help but wonder how long it would take Equestria to forget their deaths or identities. This also made her think of failed magicians, as so far she only thought about the ones like Hoofdini who made it far enough to be remembered forever, but what about those who didn't? If she were to share their fate, would she be remembered?
These thoughts were starting to stray into a territory too morbidly familiar to her taste, so she figured she would try to change tactics, and find something more wholesome.
Before she knew it she had just skimmed through the entire roll and arrived at the frontpage. About to throw it away to rot among boxes, she could make out a familiar face in the black and white cover picture. That was not what picked her attention, however. What were those things behind that unicorn’s back?
Upon further inspection of that picture, she felt her blood pressure starting to spike as her heart raced a marathon one breath per second. It couldn't be.
“Meet the new princess of friendship!”
Her horn glowed in a menacing magenta, the water that was leaking through her roof engulfed by it like drops to a volcano, loading a spell she didn't even think about. She wanted that newspaper to teleport away or burst in flames.
All she wanted was to make that pony disappear.
“Twilight Sparkle.”
Letting out a blast, she replaced the picture in the page with a smoking hole, with her hammock below suffering a similar fate. It wasn’t enough. Another blast followed, which trespassed through the paper and riveted towards the ceiling when it found an iron prop on its way, damaging both. She stabbed the remainder of the page with her horn. Then again. And again. Before she knew it, she was on a flurry of headbutts, until all she was holding was ripped remains. With quivering hooves, barely holding the pieces together, she buried her face inside. She could feel the paper getting wet with her tears and the rain as her muffled shrieks of rage vibrated through.
It is a special kind of personal Tartarus to think that the very reason of your misfortune, your nemesis, will become the pinnacle of everything you could have been, and subsequently, outlive you.
Trixie laid on her hammock, her whole body numb, and her mind racing in circles. She couldn't tell if she were even awake, or where she was. It would be a stretch to say that she had calmed down. Rather she was exhausted, and shivering, though she wasn't cold. Still wandering her own little world trying to find answers to understand. To try to understand. Why.
What had she done to deserve this. Why did Twilight have to rub it in.
Never before had she felt so powerless. Never before had she questioned if that life was the one meant for her. Was there such a thing as a meaning for life, even? She recalled an old quote, though she couldn't remember exactly from where, about how, inherently, there was no meaning other than the one ascribed by oneself. It stuck with her since then. It was probably something she had heard Celestia say at some point. Part of her thought that it was just pretentious; what would the immortal princesses know about life?
But if true, she thought, that was terrifying. It made her both powerful and powerless, in that she could have the reins of her own destiny, but instead remained a slave to her fate, carved by a higher power on her flank the day her passion was born. If she had found meaning on her Cutie Mark, she had lost it along the way. Maybe it was meant for greatness, and instead had been wasted on her. Trixie would be powerless forever, trying to bluff her way into success at what she was born to do. And failing.
Without that, she had nothing. That was not a life worth living.
How did you manage to do it, Hoofdini? nopony around to listen to her, she could ponder aloud. It felt childish to resort to her childhood hero at such a time, but also really comforting. Relatable, even. Regarded as lacking in grace and finesse, his early days as a performer were marked for failure . Eventually he found a spotlight for himself, where no imitators would tread. Trixie found solace in the fact that Twilight, despite her regal status, would never come close to matching the legacy of those who truly left their hoofprint in history, like him. He earned the right to be immortal, whereas Twilight cheated.
As if a bolt of lighting struck her, she jolted from her hammock, straightening up. Yes, it finally clicked on her. In the game of attaining power, Twilight had cheated, just like in their last duel in Ponyville. She had been given those wings. Never did she earn them. Everypony knew she was always the favorite protégé of Celestia, and no doubt it influenced her decision to pass the torch to her. So what if she had feathers, that didn't change how Trixie could still accomplish a lot of things Twilight could only dream of. Could the Princess of Friendship, in all her might, tap into the ponies’ consciousness and notions about things they had forgotten would be possible? Could she make unicorn magic magical?
She could still surpass her. Where Twilight could avoid the cold grasp of death, Trixie could cheat it. If she were immortal, Trixie would become timeless, and she would earn that right. And all she had to do was to prove it, to become larger, no, greater than life itself.
She was great, way, way greater than Twilight. Finally, she understood; She really had the reins of her destiny.
A dim light lit the wagon in cadence with the moon rising over it. With not much time left, there was no time to sleep. She perused her repertoire in search of contacts she kept for special occasions. She knew exactly what she would need; it had been revealed to her hours ago when she had looked at that poster. All it would take was a water tank, chains, and an audience, and the magic could happen. Whatever it took.
It was do or die.