AWAY
Not a chance. Never a chance.
Never success. Never a second glance.
Glares. Almost always.
So she walked away. Again. Her head hung, defeated and broken. The Great and Apologetic Trixie. The Shamed and Defeated Trixie.
Trixie thought she’d feel her heart drop in shame; she never thought it wouldn’t be there at all. That it would be just a void. That it would use this opportunity to reveal it had been a facade of a real heart. That she could ever feel so empty. There was only a vague headache. And the cold.
And now her cape, torn and muddy. The road and the rain mocked her. Laughed at her thoughts. Laughed at the idea that she could be the best for once. It was its jest.
Apparently, the greatest show she had ever performed had been the great story of Twilight Sparkle. And she was a prop. A helpless background detail. A short-lived joke.
Even the Amulet hadn’t helped her. Even with ultimate might, the glares and pity were all that remained.
So Trixie screamed. She screamed gutturally. Of nothing. Loudly into the night until her throat felt ready to bleed.
Formless, the sound echoed on. But nopony knew where to look. No strong hooves would wipe her tears. And if they did, it would be in pity. Pity for the powerless unicorn. Charity for the magician without magic.
That was when she gave up. Not slowly. Instantly, in a flashing pain and a shattered pride. And a hole where her heart should be. Her shoulder hit the mud, in the middle of the road, in the middle of the freezing rain. And she simply stopped caring. The town was long gone. And it was a long way back home.
Trixie stared up into the void of the rainclouds. But the gloom held no answers, the thunderstorm no comfort.
And her tears dried.
As time passed her by, the rain slowed and died, and the mud was dry. But she felt but worn out. Still the moon and stars refused to be shown through the cloud cover.
So she slept a dreamless sleep. An empty sleep for an empty road.
A lonely mare for the lonely night.
The burning sun woke her up, as if Celestia knew, and urged her to keep moving.
Trixie Lulamoon picked herself up. Flecks of dirt and thin dust fell from her form. And the warm wind made her nauseous.
But she walked away.
The road was silent, and Trixie could not be sure if she had taken it before. It was featureless. A common road, like any road. Maybe she had just forgotten it, forgotten where she was. A common pony, like any pony.
And so, since there was nopony around, her heart decided it was real again. It decided that it felt sick, that it felt remorse, that they had been the ones in the wrong. And she decided to ignore it and press on.
She decided to ignore the dry mud on her side, and the fact that her cutie mark was now covered in it. She decided she could do without feeling the rough cape on her back, or the old wizard’s hat on her head. She knew the stars she had sown into them were opaque, and maybe falling away.
Trixie had never been the best with a sewing machine.
A rattling sound crawled up the road, making her pick up her gaze. An old mare pulled a cart, seemingly unaffected by the instability of it. She turned her head at Trixie when she noticed her, but said nothing. Not out loud. She went on her way.
Her heart returned. But this time, a voice joined it. Not a real voice, but a whisper in the back of her mind. Hiding in the corner. And her chest ached. And the whispers told her what she refused to know. That she was the one to blame. That she was the villain of this story.
She decided she didn’t have to know. She decided she didn’t know, because it was not true. Yet the whisper was so certain. And doubt slithered its way slowly into her spirit, planting a heavy seed. A biting seed. Doubt and an inkling of guilt. Helping her heart regret; helping it refuse her a quiet walk on the empty road.
The last times these emotions had tried to break her, she had choked them down, as they attempted to do to her. She had taken her spite out on them, burying them alive. Like Twilight Sparkle had buried her.
Her hooves continued to walk. But now her mind was elsewhere, fighting to bury the guilt again. To make them a joke. A forgotten punchline.
It lost.
With each step, the whisper grew louder. Into a rending shout. Into a voice screaming the truth, refusing to shut up.
And she was crushed beyond what she thought to be possible. It all fell down on her. But she accepted it, deciding she had no other choice.
Trixie tried to distract herself with the views of the road. When she failed, she turned to thinking. Thinking about the cause of the newfound growl of her stomach.
The very thought of returning to the rock farm made her sick enough to spill burning liquid into her throat. She was not returning to that place. But she needed to eat, needed to find something to do.
She could go to Canterlot, and find a place to work. To pay her penitence. To accept her defeat.
A second whisper trickled into her mind. She was still Trixie. And powerful or not, she had always known she was to be a magician. Her cutie mark knew. Her father had known.
She would not be broken.
She would pay her penance as she knew how, and show Equestria, nay, the world, that she was made for the stage. She would not give up. Another tour. Another chance:
‘The Humble and Penitent Trixie’s Equestrian Tour!’
But first, she needed a new wagon.
Author's Note
I just wanted to write this today.
I hope it wasn't too angst-y... 
Thank you for reading.
