In the dark gloom of the sky, snow and wind roared and danced in a most unholy yet natural tango, blowing past the gray, resolute towers and spires of Stalliongrad and painting the streets below white with fury. If the blizzard were not a carefully planned maneuver by the local weather team, done especially for such an important day, then it could have easily been mistaken as the collective yawning breaths of an awakening Windigo army.
It was Hearth’s Warming Eve, the day of celebrating the first unification and continued friendship of the three pony tribes, a tradition that has been held every year since that fateful day so many centuries ago. It was little wonder, then, why anypony and everypony would find themselves inside, warm, cozy, and amongst the welcoming fires of the hearth and camaraderie, instead of outside, fully exposed to the harsh and biting elements.
But alas, there was indeed a single pony outside, but she may as well have been nopony. After all, why would anypony pay attention to a single lonely mare when they have all of their friends to celebrate with on this day? She trudged through the snow, limping and staggering against the relentless winds, her old and threadbare cloak doing little to protect her. With the blizzard as titanic as it was, she could hardly see her hoof in front of her face, let alone down the street. Any sane pony would try and find shelter as quickly as possible in such inhospitable weather, but such a thing was not of her concern; she was in no rush. Where she was going she no longer knew—or perhaps she just no longer cared.
On and on she went, one slow step after another, her only companions the burning winter and the howling wind. And on and on she went, not giving a second thought to the possibility that each step made was another step into a forgotten and icy grave. She only dimly realized this was what her soul had yearned for so long.
This pony was truly nopony, then. Who would care about her? Who would give a second thought about her? Who was she anyways?
“Who was she?” indeed.
The pony scowled bitterly, the first sign of emotion she made in a long time, remembering all too well the last time her name had been uttered into existence…
It was in a small, little-known town. Hollow Shades, perhaps. I really do not know; I wanted to get up on my hooves after that... incident had happened, and starting small in in a place where ponies would be unlikely to recognize me was best. I remember that I had just arrived after a long journey on the road, and that it was raining. It was a light drizzle at first, but I knew that it would grow into a torrential deluge in no time. I had to find shelter, praying that my cloak would not get too wet. I had already lost my matching wizard’s hat; I did not want to ruin the one possession I had left.
I ran up to one of the few establishments alongside the rapidly emptying street. I glanced at the sign, which seemed to be as faded and jaded as this place appeared to be.
Ol’ Shamrock’s Pub
A bar. It was better than nothing, so I quickly pushed the door and all but threw my body inside. Closing my eyes, I shut the door, and I lay panting and heaving against it. I did not notice that the once lively clamoring of the patrons and the clinking of bottles and glasses inside had ceased. When I finally recovered and opened my eyes, I took in the scene before me.
The pub was small and dimly lit, and much like its outside, the inside was falling into a state of disrepair and neglect. Despite this, it was full, and I could immediately feel the intense gazes of a dozen mares and stallions upon me, half of them clearly drunk.
They did not appear friendly.
Thinking I was simply being paranoid, I gulped in apprehension and took a few tentative steps towards the bar counter. I did not have any money for a drink, as heavenly as that sounded at the moment, but I was hoping the proprietor would at least allow me shelter from the rain.
Almost immediately a pair of ponies—an earth pony stallion and a pegasus mare—stepped in my path. The mare, a scruffy and wiry thing, spoke first.
“And jus’ where do ya think you’re goin’, huh?” Her grating voice was harsh to my ears, but I did note her distinctive accent.
My shaking legs and shivering frame betrayed the cool confidence I attempted to project with my response. “I just want some shelter from the rain, thank you very much.”
“That’s fine and all, young missy. So are the res’ of us,” spoke the muscled and hardened stallion, voice gruff and gravelly and as equally accented as that of the mare. “But ya look somewhat familiar, is all. Can’t help but… satisfy our curiosity. Get what Ah’m sayin’? So what’s yer name?”
It was at this point that warning klaxons started blaring in my head. These ponies were not friendly at all. The mare and stallion may have tried to sugarcoat their voices, but the hostile intent was still there, holding a blade to my throat. Every primal instinct within me was telling me to run and get as far away as possible, but a quick glance at the window showed me, to my despair, that the rain was already falling down in sheets. As intimidating as it was, I knew I had to try and stand my ground. Licking my dry lips, I was about to introduce myself, but another bar patron beat me to it.
“I know her! She’s that bitch with the Ursa that nearly destroyed that one town!”
I gasped. They knew. Immediately hushed murmurs arose in the bar, and the glares of everypony present seemed to darken even more. Cold sweat tickled my brow as I tried to salvage the situation, my hooves waving in front of me in an attempt to placate them.
“N-n-no no no, th-that was not my fault. Y-You see, there were these two f-foals—”
“She’s lyin’! Not only is she unwillin’ to admit to her crime, but she’s gonna pin the blame on a couple o’ lil’ kids!”
“I swear! I swear it’s true!”
Tears were starting to pool in the corners of my eyes and my ears pinned back to my head, but they did not care. They did not listen to my pleading. If anything, that only riled them up even further.
“Why the buck did ya come to our town, eh?”
“Get outta here, ya bitch!”
“I bet ya enjoyed it too, nearly killing ‘em poor sons o’ bitches!”
As the shouting grew into defeaning roars, my tears fell freely, and it took nearly all my willpower to not curl up into a ball on the spot and remain standing. I was about to just turn around and sprint out of the bar right then and there, tail between my legs, but a voice, baritone and thunderous, stood out amongst the rest.
“WAIT!”
Almost immediately, the pub went silent again. Although I was still sobbing and scared for my life, I could not help but wonder where that voice had come from. Perhaps this was my savior, my knight in shining armor, here to rescue me? Heavy hoofsteps echoed through the silence, and from behind the crowd stepped a huge earth pony stallion. Judging from his cutie mark, I guessed that this was the pub landlord, Ol’ Shamrock.
He stepped right up to me, and I truly felt like nothing more than an ant under his towering gaze. He eyed me, unsmiling, saying nothing, and all the while I clung on to the hope that this old stallion would be kind enough to let me stay until the storm—both outside and inside—had blown over. At long last Ol’ Shamrock spoke.
“Ya ain’t got no business here in mah pub, cuz ain’t ya also the one who enslaved that same town and dueled Twilight Sparkle for it a couple o’ days ago?”
There was a pregnant pause before the bar erupted with the horror and outrage of a dozen ponies. My heart sunk fast like a stone as my only chance of hope was shattered like the fragile thing it was. My eyes shrunk to pinpricks, my jaw hung agape, and I began to hyperventilate. I tried formulating a response but my brain simply could not allow it.
“What the buck! Enslavement?”
“Ya serious!”
“Holy shit, ya ain’t kiddin’ ain’t ya?”
“Dueled Twilight Sparkle? Student o’ the buckin’ princess? Hero o’ Equestria? That’s crazy!”
“The hell is she here? She tryin’ to take over?”
At this last cry the bar went silent again, and the intensity of the dozen gazes deepened a hundredfold.
“Holy… you’re right!”
“We gotta do somethin’!”
“Buck… Ah ain’t a big fan o’ this town, but Ah sure as hell ain’t gonna let no buckin’ whore like her try and take over!”
“I say we kick this bitch out onto the street; that’ll teach her to mess with us! Who’s with me?”
“Yeah!”
“Ah am!”
“Count me in!”
As one, the crowd stepped forward, a dark and malicious beast. Now terrified beyond belief, I made one shaky step back, then another, then I whirled around and lunged for the door. To my horror, I crashed against the indomitable wall of another stallion who had discretely stepped between myself and the door when I still had my back turned.
He hissed into my face, “Ya ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya monster.”
I shut my eyes, putting forth all of my focus into this one spell that would allow for my escape: a teleportation spell. It was highly advanced magic, and I had no real experience or practice with it, but I was desperate to get out. I channeled mana through my horn as quickly as my body would allow, feeling the leylines around me warping and shifting, and when I was finally ready I let loose the spell.
Only, nothing happened. I felt an odd tingle in my horn; it felt… violating. In the corner of my vision, I saw a couple of sneering unicorn mares, their own horns bright and glowing. Shocked, I finally realized what had happened: those unicorns had disabled my magic! Now, I was totally defenseless and could do nothing as the beast’s claws closed around my neck.
With no other option left, I did the only thing I could do at this point. I begged. I got on my knees and begged for my life like a pathetic little foal, my hot tears streaming down my face and my speech barely understandable through my blubbering and hiccups.
“P-P-P-Please… please d-d-don’t hurt me… j-just, just l-let me g-g-gooo… I’m-I’m sor-sorryyyy!”
But the crowd did not listen, nor did they care. My world exploded in white-hot pain as they descended upon me and relentlessly beat me, over and over again, some with their bare hooves and others with their mugs and bottles. Screaming, I tried to fight back, but there were too many, and they were too vicious. How long I remained conscious I do not know, but I could not help but give thanks when at long last the merciful embrace of darkness filled my vision and I knew no more.
To my despair, I found myself back in the realm of the living when my face felt the splash of muddy water and my body the cruel, hard ground. I immediately cried out as the dozens of cuts and bruises that decorated my being shrieked in perfect unison. I choked out a few sobs as I groaned, turning my body this way and that in a pathetic attempt to find a less painful position to lie in.
I was faintly aware of a “And stay outta mah pub, ya bitch!” followed by the sounds of hearty laughter and triumphant cheers, but I did not care.
I realized that my precious cloak was utterly ruined, but I did not care.
I knew that I should try and get up and out of the rain, try and find treatment for my injuries, but I did not care.
In the corner of my blurry vision I could see the brown water steadily gain a reddish hue, but I did not care.
I no longer cared. I could do nothing but just lie there in the mud, my tears and blood mixing with the rain and letting myself get soaked to the bone. Already, the sharp pain had somewhat dulled down to a constant throbbing, but the wounds inflicted upon my soul lay gaping open.
After what seemed to be an eternity, as belated and worthless as it was, I weakly choked out my introduction:
“…Trixie. My name is Trixie.”
But I may as well be nopony, the broken mare thought miserably.
It had been some time since that day, the last day her name was ever spoken. How long it had been, Trixie did not know. Just because Twilight Sparkle appreciated the Great and Apologetic Trixie did not mean that the rest of Equestria did.
Having been fearful of the probable hostility of the rest of the town’s populace, Trixie had spent several days hiding in a filthy side alley to recover enough from the ordeal and set out on the road once more. After being on the road for so long, the idea of staying in one place was too foreign of a concept for her. Yet, she still did not know where she was going, nor did she care. Trixie had simply picked a road to follow and just walked and never stopped or looked back. She forwent eating and sleeping, because at that point, walking—running, fleeing—was all that she knew how to do. Her life on the stage was over, shattered into countless infinitesimal fragments, and Trixie knew she no longer had the willpower to pick up the pieces. It was only with the passing of Faust-knows-how-many-days did she happen to find herself enduring the white fury of Stalliongrad.
Trixie’s movement through the snow was sluggish and difficult. She never fully recovered from being so brutally beaten; her limp was evident of that. Traveling for so long without sustenance and under perilous conditions served only to exacerbate her failing health. Her teeth chattered and her labored breaths were visible in the air.
Faust… it’s so cold.
While she managed to miraculously keep her trademark purple starry cape, it had only deteriorated further since that fateful day and was now practically nothing more than a glorified rag. Still, it had some success in hiding the malnourished frame that lay underneath, the all too visible ribs and the neglected belly.
I wonder when the last time I ate was...
Indeed, Trixie may have been called pretty once, and it was true that many a pony had been enraptured by her beauty and poise when she performed… but that time has long since passed. Her azure coat, once smooth and lustrous, was dull and disheveled, and ferocious gashes had left their ugly scars. Similarly, her mane had lost its silver sheen, strands of hair sticking out and caked with twigs and dirt. But the most haunting change in her appearance were her eyes. Formerly vibrant and shimmering with confidence and haughtiness, they were now nothing more than voids of violet, empty and dead like the soul that lay behind them. It was foolish to deny that the time spent on the road had been unkind to Trixie, but what was the point in keeping up her appearance? After all, this was her last journey.
My last journey… Trixie paused. Yes… This is my last journey, isn’t it?
She managed to form a small smile at that, her first in many, many weeks, and resolved that she would see this through to the very end, no matter what. The cold was unforgiving, and the gale threatened to blow her away, but the fire of Trixie’s reignited determination made sure that she kept moving forward.
One step…
Another step…
Another step…
Another…
And another…
And another…
Off in the distance Trixie thought she could hear the sound of laughter, of rejoice and merriment and being with friends and family. She vaguely recalled that this day was Hearth’s Warming Eve.
She grimaced. Of course… Of all the days, it had to be the most joyous of them all… But as bleak as it is, this is my day to be happy as well.
Trixie was not truly sure where she was going, or perhaps she did and she just did not realize it. But with every step forward, she was certain that she was one step closer to her destination, whatever that may be.
She spotted a small alley in the corner of her heavily limited line of sight. There was nothing special about it, just another backstreet nestled between one gray structure and another, like every other alley in this forsaken city, and yet she had finally stopped, as if this particular one stood out amongst the rest. Taking a moment to contemplate, Trixie wondered if she was finally there, at her destination. She raised her head towards the weeping sky, as if asking some unseen deity for confirmation. Unsurprisingly, she received no response, nor did she need one; she already knew the answer. Closing her eyes, she gave a long weary sigh, and nodded to herself in resigned affirmation.
That is as good of a place as any, she supposed.
Using the last of her strength, Trixie changed course and trekked her way over to the alley. Knowing that this was the last leg of her journey, she held her head high and tried to put as much defiance in her step, silently ignoring the torment the extra effort was causing her. With a final grunt of effort Trixie made it inside and almost immediately collapsed in exhaustion.
She lay there, breathing heavily, before deciding to pull herself into an upright position against the wall, huddling with the remnants of her cloak. Regaining her senses, Trixie realized that, despite the fact that it was still freezing, she could at least see again here. She saw that the alley was as filthy as she expected it to be, with several dumpsters and bags of garbage lining the walls and trash strewn all over the ground. Her instincts screamed at her to throw herself into the piles of garbage and look for something—anything—to eat. But Trixie shook her head.
No. Enough is enough. I’m… tired.
She was tired, so very tired. Tired of scavenging for food, tired of running and hiding, tired of the hateful stares, tired of being beaten, of starving, of the cold, of the world, of life itself.
This is where my journey ends, I suppose. A worthy final resting place for the “Great and Powerful” Trixie…
Knowing the end was near, Trixie closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall.
Hmm, they say that one’s life passes before her eyes when Death is near… I do not see anything. Perhaps… perhaps I must reminisce?
And with that, Trixie looked back on her woefully short life, and she saw many things.
She saw her foalhood in Neigh Orleans, being held by loving parents and playing with many toys.
She saw her father teaching her magic for the first time.
She saw herself casting her first illusion, earning her cutie mark in the process, and saw the joy and pride on her face.
She saw herself growing up, always fighting her parents and their demands, renouncing her title of heiress of the House of Lulamoon.
She saw herself performing on the road, maturing and becoming stronger, happier, gaining fame and the loving adoration of fans everywhere.
She saw a quaint rustic town, a celestial beast, and a familiar lavender unicorn.
She saw herself falling, running, being driven out of town after town, being called a fraud and a fake, losing everything she worked so hard for.
She saw an amulet of darkness and the nightmares it wreaked.
She saw her second defeat at the hooves of the same unicorn.
She saw her shattered dreams and ruined future.
She saw fear and disgust and hate.
She saw pain.
She saw regret.
She saw loneliness.
And she saw...
With a shuddering gasp, Trixie opened her eyes and found that her vision had gotten blurry. She had not noticed that she had been crying. She was surprised she still had tears to shed. She did not bother wiping them away, for she knew that she did not even have the strength to raise her hoof anymore. Trixie just lay there, sobbing her heart out, all the while her breathing was growing shallow and more difficult. Feeling a sudden pain in her chest, she coughed. She hacked and wheezed, wracking her feeble body with ever-intensifying agony. In her dimming vision she could have sworn that she saw flecks of red contrasting against her blue coat. Finally, her fit stopped, and she could do nothing but whimper pitifully as she drifted in and out of consciousness.
Time passed. Whether it was just a few seconds or an hour or two Trixie could not tell, but that did not matter. The cold was as vicious as ever, but she could no longer feel its heartless caress, nor could she feel the tattered fabric of her cloak or the uncomfortable dampness of the ground. No, she could not feel anything but the immense fatigue weighing down upon her soul.
But now I think I can rest.
Against all odds, a ghost of a smile graced her muzzle, and Trixie could not help but let out a sigh of content. The last thing she saw was the encroaching darkness, but she could only welcome it, as if it were an old friend.
Is this… Is this it?
Is this what dying feels like…? This isn’t too bad, I guess… It actually feels… kind of nice… rather peaceful…
Oh? What’s this? My fans? Family and friends? All around me? Am I really loved after all?
But of course… Was there ever any doubt? I am Great and Powerful…
It’s just too bad that my time is up…
Should I say some last words before going? No, that’s stupid…
But this is the grand finale. For my fans, for everypony dear to me, I have to say something memorable… But what?
…
…
…
Ah, I’ve got it…
And so, to an audience of everypony and nopony at all, resting amongst the shards of a broken life, in the silence of a wailing blizzard, Trixie Lulamoon spoke her last words… and they set her free.
À tout le monde…
À tout mes amis…
Je vous aime…
Je dois…
Partir…
Author's Note
Ugh, uploading this was a formatting nightmare... Anyways, this story was inspired by and the lyrics are from "À Tout Le Monde," by Megadeth.
