The cheers of the crowd echoed in Trixie’s mind as she focused herself for the show about to come.
It was the same one she always did. That was what she said to everypony who asked her, at least. But every show was different. Every show needed something more. It needed something to be better than the last time she had performed.
She explained it off, in the dark hours of the night when she was alone with herself, as the show naturally evolving, but she did not even believe it herself. Trixie simply needed to do better. In truth, she did not believe the cheers and the clapping she heard. It was all sympathy. That did not stop her trying to improve. Even if they did not mean it now, she would show them.
She lifted up the hat on her head, covering her horn. It was her little ritual. Her mother had been the one to teach her that. “Just cover your horn, dear,” she had said, “and nopony will expect you to do more than you can.” She was always right, mother was. Trixie had learned to leave town after her first performance. Ponies always expected her to do more and more. If they had never heard of her, they would never expect her to do anything, and then they would clap and cheer more.
If they had seen her, though, they would always want something more. It was better to just burn out her whole repertoire at once than to go slowly. It kept them away, and if they never got close, they could never hurt her. That was what her father had taught her by painful experience. If they never got close, they could never let her down. It was the only way to be safe: be an island, and let no-one land upon it.
“Trixie?”
Trixie froze. Nopony was allowed backstage. She had made that clear, she thought. Who could possibly have come in? She turned to the entrance, and saw another unicorn standing there. Perhaps the pony she least expected. “Twilight Sparkle,” she said. “What are you doing here?” She forced a polite tone. The last time Twilight Sparkle and she had met, Twilight had shown just how much better her magic was than Trixie’s illusions. Please, she begged silently. Don’t run me out of town again.
“I was a little worried about you, honestly,” said Twilight, a look of at least some concern on her face. “And I think I was right to do so.”
“No,” Trixie said, “I’m doing as well as you could hope. I am just about to perform, actually.”
Twilight frowned a little. “To who?”
“To them!” said Trixie with a frown, pointing to where the sound of the cheering would be coming from. It was just out the door that Twilight had entered in. Surely she must have seen them.
Twilight looked at Trixie carefully. “Trixie, there’s nopony out there. Are you feeling alright?”
“Yes, Twilight, of course I am. Now, if you still want to talk, then we can talk after the performance.” Turning her back on the other unicorn, she walked out the door, and up the stairs. She walked up on the stage, the curtain still together. She almost did not want to open it. It was the first time she had performed in her hometown. Taking a deep breath, however, she pulled the curtain open.
"At last, the Great and Powerful Trixie will-" Her voice drained off as she looked around the auditorium. It was empty. Empty, that is, except for one mare, her mother, who looked at her with a little smile. It was the sort you would give to a foal who was proud about his hoof-painting. What was going on?
“Go on, dear,” her mother said with a little clap. “Show us what you can do.”
Trixie’s mouth hung open, looking around. Surely she was not- She could not possibly be the only pony who had come, could she? “Where are the others?”
“Oh, your father couldn’t make it. He’s working, of course.” Even her mother frowned at that now, before she lifted her smile again. “I didn’t want to invite anypony else, dear, just in case you didn’t excite them and were disappointed. I didn’t want that for you. You understand.”
Trixie slowly sank to the floor, her hat falling off and rolling to the side. What was the point of it all? Even her mother did not expect her to succeed. Why should she?
“Trixie,” Twilight said, as she walked onto the stage behind her. “You don’t have to stay here like this.”
“As if there’s any place for me.” Trixie could not lift her gaze from the ground. “Just leave me here.”
“Excuse me, who is this?” asked her mother. “Is this the performance?”
“No, Trixie. I won’t." Twilight pulled the curtain closed with a burst of magic, and lifted up Trixie's muzzle with a hoof. “I may not be Pinkie Pie or Applejack, but even I can tell you aren't happy here. Now, you have a choice. You can either sit here, and continue to live in this- this lie, that you are not good enough, or you can leave, and find where your place is. I don't know where that place is, but I know that you have one, and I know that it isn't sitting around and waiting for something to happen to you."
She waited there, as Trixie eventually pushed herself up from the floor. She unclasped the cloak, letting it fall the the ground besides the hat. Lifting her gaze to meet Twilight's, she nodded. Only once, but it was enough.
Twilight smiled. "Good. I would hate to see a pony as talented as you shutting yourself away like this." With her own nod in response, she turned towards the door. "Shall we?"
As Twilight left, Trixie followed her. She did not know what lay before her, but it was better than this. It had to be.
