“Ponies and Gentlecolts, prepare yourselves to be amazed by the one, the only, Great and Powerful Trixie!” A bright purple explosion lit the stage to revel a beautiful blue unicorn wearing a wizard’s hat covered in stars. A billowing cape was wrapped around her shoulders, flapping in the breeze like the wings of some great beast. “Each and every pony shall bow before her as she prepares to astound you all with her one-of-a-kind magical prowess!” She snapped her cape around her chest causing a whirlwind to appear. It twirled around the stage shooting bright red and green sparks in all directions. The audience backed away from the stage, their eyes wide with surprise and awe.
“Is there a single pony out there who wishes to challenge the Great and Powerful Trixie? Does anypony feel that they could prove themselves better than her?” She scanned the crowd for any neigh-sayers with a look of utter contempt on her face. “That is what I thought,” she said with a tight, uppity grin. “Now, before we begin, all ponies must donate one bit to the Great and Powerful Trixie. Such a trivial amount for an experience that none of you have ever seen before!” She used her magic to float her hat through the crowd. The ponies each added their contribution to the hat save for a single, elderly stallion who was sitting in a wheelchair. Trixie glared down upon this pony and his younger caretaker. “Doest thou wish to leave the show or will you pay for your right to witness the Great and Powerful Trixie’s performance?”
The caretaker leaned down to whisper into the elderly stallion’s ear. He kept his eyes glued on Trixie as he listened to what his caretaker had to say. A soft smile crossed his lips as he nodded. The caretaker placed to bits into the hat while saying, “Apologies, Great and Powerful Trixie. My grandfather wasn’t able to hear your request.”
Trixie brought the hat back to the stage. “And what was your excuse?” she chuckled. “Are you deaf as well?”
The caretaker pony’s eyes narrowed but she didn’t respond. She just leaned up against the stallion’s wheelchair and waited for Trixie’s performance to begin. Trixie shook her head at the two before raising her front hooves high into the air. “Let the show begin!” she hollered. The audience cheered.
This, she thought as her audience clomped their hooves against the ground. Is what I live for.
The show went on without a hitch. She had wowed the simple-minded, talentless ponies with all of her amazing tricks and was even able to get a few more bits out of them in the end. It wasn’t really all that difficult, really. She showed off a few elementary spells to get them in the mood then demanded more donations. They were more than happy enough to empty their wallet satchels into her hat just to see the next trick in line. So easily manipulated. How she loved small-town ponies.
She was packing up her supplies for the night – putting her hat and cape away in their proper chests before pushing the stacks of bits into a large satchel. She hid the satchel underneath her mattress and proceeded to use her magic to brush out her mane. It was hard work performing for crowds; harder than she let on, but the end always justified the means. Tomorrow she may be able to squeeze several dozen more bits out of them before packing up and moving to the next town. That wouldn’t be so bad.
She was about to turn in for the night when a soft knocking came at her door. She glared at it in frustration. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is in no mood for visitors. You shall vacate the steps of her carriage immediately and wait until tomorrow before bothering her again.”
There was a moment of silence then the knocking continued. She rolled her eyes. Yes, it was rather difficult being such a famous pony when so many of her loyal fans wanted her attention. She approached the door. “If you want an autograph you had better be prepared to pay for it. The Great and Powerful Trixie does not give out freebies. She am sorry but that is how things work around here.”
“I am not here,” a raspy voice responded, “For an autograph. But for a request.”
Trixie stared at the door. For a moment she entertained the idea of using her powers to cause the carriage steps vanish, thus causing her intruder to fall in the mud but finally she decided just to get this irritation over with. The longer she kept this going, the longer it would be before she went to bed. She opened the door. “Yes? What is so important to bother…”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie?” the stallion wheezed. “Yes, I know your name.” It was the elderly stallion from earlier. She poked her head through the doorway to see where if his caretaker was anywhere in sight. She wasn’t. “Where is your friend?” Trixie asked with a smirk. “Did she get tired of pushing you around town?”
“She is preparing my bed,” the stallion whispered. His gray eyes looked deep into Trixie’s. “That was some very impressive magic you displayed.”
Trixie brushed a hoof through her silvery mane. “Well that is what she does best.”
The stallion tilted his head. “Why do you refer to yourself in such a manner, dear? It is very unbecoming of you.”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Why, this is how all the most noble of ponies refer to themselves. We are above such pleasantries as “I” or “Me”. It is beneath us.”
He considered her words for several breaths. “Yes,” he whispered. “You truly are great and powerful. I can see why you would give yourself such an honorific.”
Trixie smiled. It was about time a stallion understood where she was coming from. Normally she would be met with resistance by those lesser-talented ponies. She remembered the incident back in Ponyville where those horrid little ponies and their Pegasus and unicorn companions rose up against her. They dared to suggest that they could perform acts greater than Trixie’s own talent but in the end, she proved her point. Yes, it was true that she fled the scene of the Usra Major but that was only because she remembered a very important meeting that she had to get too. It had nothing to do with the fact that the Ursa was a very powerful magical beast. None whatsoever.
“Tell me,” the stallion’s voice broke through her thoughts. “What is it you do with your money?”
Trixie’s good mood instantly soured. “That is none of your concern.”
“I am merely making conversation.” He replied. “I would think that considering the amount of funds you hustled from the crowd that you could afford more luxurious accommodations.”
Trixie’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Again. It is none of your concern. Now, if you would excuse her, the Great and Powerful Trixie must catch up on her beauty sleep.” She moved to turn around but the stallion grabbed her by the left leg. “You don’t need to do this,” he said, his voice suddenly growing stronger. “Your life doesn’t need to be so empty. With your talent, you could open your own school; encourage fillies to reach for the stars. The ability to teach is a rare one indeed and I feel you could be one of the greats if you’d set your mind to it.”
She was taken aback from his words. For a moment she imagined what life would be like if she followed his advice. She would have a home to live within instead of a carriage that constantly needed maintenance. The looks of admiration would not come from random strangers in a crowd but instead in the eyes of youth. She could see talents rise to the point where they could become just as powerful as she.
Then her stubbornness set in. She didn’t have the time or the heart to be a teacher. Why should she share her secrets with a bunch of spoiled fillies? Who was this stallion to dare suggest that she settle down and miss out on all the opportunities that the road had to offer? She was the Great and Powerful Trixie for Celestia’s sake. She would move town to town proving her worth until every pony in Equestria realized that she was even more powerful than the Princesses themselves.
“Thanks,” She jerked her leg out of his grasp. “But she is happy just the way she is.”
The stallion lowered his head in acceptance. “Very well,” he whispered. He limped back down her carriage steps to his wheelchair. She watched him wheel himself back into town. “Such a foalish foal.” She snorted. She stepped back into her carriage, slamming her door in the process. She took two steps towards her bed when somepony knocked.
“She told you, Grandpa,” Trixie stomped towards the door, her horn glowing in irritation. “To leave her alone!” She kicked the door open, preparing herself to blast the old coot as far away as possible but the lit from her carriage did not illuminate the stallion, but an unconscious pig. It was wearing a black cloak with red trim and it was shaking all over, apparently hurt. Trixie growled in irritation. “And what do you think you’re doing here?” She used her magic to lift the pig off the ground. Trixie stepped out of her carriage. “The Great and Powerful…”
The pig reacted faster than Trixie thought possible. It drove a needle into her throat and depressed the trigger. Trixie squeaked in pain, dropping the pig onto the ground. She stumbled backwards, feeling quite dizzy. She found that her legs no longer wanted to work, and that her knees were feeling rather rubbery. She lost her balance and collapsed to her side. Her head was swimming as her eyes faded in and out of conscienceless.
She watched the pig sit up. It turned towards her and she could see that it wasn’t a pig, but a pony wearing a pig’s mask. The pony pulled the mask off, revealing the face of the stallion’s caretaker. The last thing Trixie saw before blacking out was the pony reaching towards her with a look of absolute disgust upon her face.
The first thing that Trixie noticed was the taste of copper. It was a sensation that permeated her dreams making her think that she was sipping from a glass of liquid metal. However there was some weird invisible thing stuck against her mouth that prevented her from sipping from the glass. Every time she brought it to her lips, it would clink against this invisible object. Yet, despite this, she could still taste the copper.
Then came the headaches. Her dream world shifted from calming blues and greens to dark reds and abysmal blacks. With each beat of her heart she would feel the walls around her bulging inwards causing severe headaches. Her temples felt as if they were going to cave in upon her brain. It was maddening!
A bright white light ripped through her dreams causing her headache to worsen. She felt sick to her stomach, the pain was getting that intense. The light did not cease in its assault. She began to scream, covering her eyes in hopes to block out the searing pain.
She awoke with a start. At first she was unable to see exactly where she was or what was going on because there was a spotlight flashing right into her eyes. She tried to scream out at whomever was operating it but her voice came out as a muffled roar. Eyes widening, she placed her hooves against her mouth only to discover that somepony had inserted a Weaver Curb Bit into her mouth. Four chains kept the bit in place while wrapping around the side of her head towards the back of her skull. A strange device of metal was attached to her head. She could feel two thin gears mounted on either side of the device. The chains were attached to these gears.
“Waaahhh ith oin onth?” she screeched.
The light turned off, bathing her in a world of darkness until her eyes adjusted. Once they did, she was able to see where exactly she was. It was a small room, maybe twenty hooves by twenty hooves in length and width. A projector was mounted on a table just to the left of her and there was a solid steel door in front of her. The door had no handles, no levels; only a strange keyhole just to the left of it. She glanced around feverishly in hopes of spotting another way out. There was none.
For several seconds she sat there upon the floor in a state of panic. Then she remembered just exactly who she was. She was the Great and Powerful Trixie! These armatures couldn’t possible think that they could keep her bound and gagged like this. Those foals!
A smile of utter confidence upon her face, Trixie slipped into a state of utter concentration. The first thing she would do was remove this ridiculous helmet. She flexed her muscles, urging her magic to do its stuff but after a while she realized that nothing was happening. Her eyes snapped open as she struggled to look up at her horn. She crossed her eyes and glanced up, shrieking in horror as she saw her horn covered in ugly blue spots.
“Wahh fif ooo oo tah ma?” she demanded. She stood up quickly and heard what sounded like fishing wire snapping. A loud clicking sound filled the chamber and the movie-projector besides her turned on. She stared at the wall as the black-and-white film appeared upon the steel surface. A with and black stallion puppet appeared on the screen, its black eyes with red pupils turning towards Trixie. Red swirls decorated its’ cheeks. Trixie and the puppet locked eyes and then it spoke.
”Hello Trixie. I want to play a game. You live your life bathed in the spotlight, among cheering fans and jealous rivals. You have been given a blessing, a rare gift that very few Unicorns possess and yet you waste it away by performing tricks. You value fame and fortune over love and friendship, something that should never be tolerated.
“The game is simple. The device I have attached to your head is designed to silence your voice. As the clock ticks down, the bit in your mouth will tighten; tearing your mouth apart inch by inch. When the timer runs out, it shall retract completely, tearing your jaw from your head. There is a hole by the door in which you shall put your horn. Do so long enough and the door will open. Cross the threshold and the timer will deactivate.
“Can you sacrifice your fame in exchange for your life? Live or Die. It’s your choice.” The projector shut down. Trixie strared at the wall in absolute horror. This couldn’t be real. Nopony in all of Equestria was this sick in the head! It was all a bad dream. A nightmare; nothing more!
The gears on her head began to rotate. She felt the bit slowly begin to pull backwards into her mouth. Her cheeks began to stretch as it continued its crawl. She whined in shock, running towards the door as quickly as possible. She examined the hole, peaking into it with her left eye but could not figure out what was on the other side.
The gears rotated again. Her cheeks began to feel rather uncomfortable as the bit pulled itself further into her mouth. Whimpering, she thrust her horn through the hole. A loud whirring sound rose up from behind the wall and suddenly she felt the painful sting of something coarse grinding against her horn. She pulled out, gripping her horn with both hooves. The tip had been sanded off, just a bit and it was probably the most severe pain she had ever felt in her life. She looked over her shoulder towards the movie projector. Was this lunatic serious? In order for her to survive this game, she’d have to sand off her own horn?
The bit tightened more. Her cheeks were beginning to stretch beyond their limits. The metal – which felt as if it was covered in rust and grime – started to cut into her flesh. She shook her head, trying to knock the bit loose, even going as far as smashing the back of her head against the wall but the machine held true. It was tightening even more, causing the cuts to spider-web across her cheeks; on the inside and outside. She could taste blood.
She stared at the hole. I can do this! I can do this!. She buried her horn into the hole. The grinder started up again. That hot, searing pain erupted throughout her skull as the metal began to eat away at her horn. She began to grind her teeth against the bit, feeling the metal scrap against her teeth as it continued its deadly assault. The pain was enough to cause her vision to blur. She was feeling dizzy, weak in the knees. Twice she almost lost consciences but it was through sheer stubbornness that kept her awake. The bit was already halfway through her cheeks. Her jaw was growing loose as rivers of crimson dripped down her face to create little red pools upon the floor. Eyes rolling up into the back of her head, she shoved her horn back into the hole. The grinder went back to work, chewing her horn into dust. Bright white lights danced in her eyes. It was too much. It was getting too much to bear!
The bit jerked backwards causing her to scream. She slipped in her own blood, falling onto her stomach so that her blue coat turned a disgusting shade of purple. She slipped against the floor, forcing herself back onto her knees. With trembling hooves, she forced her horn back into the hole. Her vision left her as the pain tore through her brain. Her flesh was growing pale, her body feeling cold, but still she pushed on. She got onto her tippy-hooves and forced the last bit of her horn into the hole. The grinder did the job it was built too, devouring the rest of her horn. As promised, the steel door opened and Trixie stumbled towards the threshold. Her jaw was loose, her tongue lolling out over the bit, but she was still alive. She was still alive!
She collapsed on the other side of the door panting in agony. She didn’t know just how long she was left there in a pool of her own blood, but after what felt like an eternity, a shadowy figure stepped into the hallway. She felt some hooves working on the back of her head, freeing her of the wicked device.
She felt the stallion’s breath kissing her ear. “Game Over.” He whispered. Her head fell against the floor. The last thing she heard before losing total consciences was the stallion calling out to another pony. “Get her to a hospital…” he ordered.
The stallion watched as his apprentice carried the former Great and Powerful Trixie from his chamber. “Some ponies are so ungrateful,” he whispered. “To be alive. But not you. Not anymore.”
