The Life & Times of The Great & Powerful Trixie
Spring is often thought as a period of new growth, and revival. With the plants emerging from winter’s icy grip, and many animals beginning to emerge from hibernation, it’s only natural that the season should be so closely entwined in the popular conscious with fertility and creation. So, it should come as no surprise that this spring, in late May, the hospital of Hoofdale was abuzz with happy couples, overworked staff, and an abundance of new foals. One such couple was Cross Stitch, a unicorn mare and her husband, an earth pony by the name of Level Plane.
The couple had been married for twenty blissful years, and had recently decided that they wanted to bring a foal into their lives. And so it was that this afternoon should find Cross Stitch laying in a hospital bed, weary, but a small smile still present on her lips as she held her husbands hoof, standing protectively by her side, their gazes only leaving each others when the nurse came in, carrying with him a small bundle. “here you go you two. It’s a beautiful baby mare, congratulations.” Cross Stitch happily took the swaddled foal, cooing softly as she saw its face. The foal was a light blue, currently burbling happily in her mother’s embrace. Her mane was a beautiful white, and her eyes a brilliant purple. “What will you name her?” The couple exchanged a look, smiling as Level nodded, an unspoken agreement seeming to pass between them. “Trixie. Trixie Lulamoon.”
Together, the three of them made the picture perfect family. Cross Stitch, aging gracefully, the picture of poise and motherly kindness with her white coat and pinkish mane, a gentle smile always on her lips, widened ever so slightly whenever she was around her foal, which was near-constantly. Level Plane, the stallions-stallion, a burly, strapping chestnut colt, who always seemed to be frowning about something. This look only ever softened in the company of his wife and child, his mouth instead uptwisting in a proud smile. And oftentimes, the glimmer of a tear could be seen in the corner of his eye as he gazed upon the two mares he loved more than anything in the world, though of course, he would be quick to deny such a display of emotion.
Of course, not everything was completely picturesque. Trixie was born into a busy family, as well as a caring one. Level Plane was a factory worker in a nearby table factory. Times used to be he ran his own carpentry shop, but with the advent of this mechanized industry he was forced to take a job there, not that he’d ever complain. No, despite the long hours, the weariness he obviously carried on his shoulders, and the way he seemed to sag whenever he went or came from his job, Level would always be too proud to allow any hint of possibility that he was anything less than utterly satisfied with his occupation. Cross Stitch, on the other hoof, ran an at home business, a cross between a sewing shop and a tailor, attending to any mending, stitching, threading, or clothing that the townsponies needed.
And, of course, those ponies that came to see her never failed to congratulate her on her daughter, or comment on how beautiful the foal was. Although utterly oblivious to the attentions of the customers as a newborn, the foal didn’t take long to recognize, and revel, in the attention her mothers customers gave to her. It soon became common for anypony coming to the house, no mater the reason, to be treated to the spectacle of the little unicorn strutting about, tossing her mane, and fishing for compliments with a wide smile on her face. If anything, this only served to increase her mother’s business, as grandmothers, would-be mothers, or soon to be mothers began to crowd the house, clearing out only when Level returned from his day at work. “they’re going to spoil the foal!” He’d always grumble to his wife as he would settle into his chair, only for Trixie to scamper into his lap and cuddle against him like a lonely cat “Am I really as pretty as they say Daddy? Huh?” “of course sweetie, more beautiful than any model in Equestria.” He’d assure her in his gruff, affectionate voice as he stroked her mane. “Oh, they’re spoiling her huh, what about you?” His wife would point out with a smile. And every time, he’d huff and turn away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about” He’d stubbornly deny, overlapped by the sound of his wife’s laughter even as he held his foal tight.
And so, they went for a time, up until little Trixie’s first day of school.
The sound of the school bell shrilly pierced the otherwise peaceful fall morning, interrupting the chirping of birds, and replacing it with the gentle chatter of foals conversation as the ringing tone called all the youngsters to their first class of the year. A few foals didn’t make the journey just quite yet, however, either clinging to, or being held back by, a parent delivering a few last words of comfort, wisdom, or both. One such foal in particular, a blue, white maned unicorn mare, was currently nodding her head as her mother spoke, a small smile on her face at how intent her mother seemed to keep her from class. “ Now remember sweetie, pay attention in class, and be sure to ask the teacher if you don’t under-” “I know mom.” “-stand anything. And here’s your lunch, I packed your favorite, apples and peanut butter crackers, a-” “thanks mom.” “and if you need anything, just go to the office and tell them to call us. And Trixie.” “Yes, mom?” “don’t forget to make some friends.” Trixie smiled, scoffing softly as she tossed her mane back, painstakingly brushed just a few minutes ago exactly in the shape that she liked it. “Of course I’ll make friends mom. I’m the smartest, prettiest pony in Hoofdale. Who wouldn’t want to be my friend?!” Cross stitch chuckled, giving her foal one last hug before nudging her off towards the school building. Even as her heart soared with pride at her child reaching this milestone, she couldn’t stop the tears from forming, or dull the ache of her throbbing heartstrings. She had always heard it was bittersweet watching your foal grow up, but nopony had ever told her it would hit this hard… or start this soon.
