The wagon bumped and rattled along. Its exteriors painted in a flamboyant multitude of colors and symbols, it was a worthy abode for its owner, the self-proclaimed Great and Powerful Trixie Lulamoon. Wheels crossed uneven, winding roads, littered in stray rocks that we're cast about while it cut through a forest on a bright day where the sun's rays pierced through the occasional cloud.
The interior was cramped by props and a heavy treasure chest, which the owner's daughter, Beatrix Belladonna, sat upon. She garbed herself in a similar costume to her mother's; a leotard, fingerless gloves that came to her upper arms, heeled boots that came to her thighs, and the most important touches, a wide-brimmed pointy hat and cape, all swathed in stars. She kicked her feet, humming and staring out a window, taking in a breeze that tossed about her platinum locks.
“Don't sit too close or you could tumble out,” chided her mother with a shake of an index finger.
“Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine!” She was less than a dozen years old, her skin a shade of mild violet, touches of that visible in her locks. Her eyes by contrast were a deeper purple and a coy smile lit her maw. She'd started to fill out, but had a bit of youthful pudginess around her tummy. “You ready to teach me some more tricks, mom? I'm bored~!”
“A little too risky in these confined spaces, especially when we're on the road!” Having a child forced her to mature. They traveled about the lands, setting up shows where they could, collecting bits used for food, supplies, and to hire stallions willing to pull her caravan a ways. Granted, she hesitated to tell her another way she was often forced to pay them...
“Think we'll ever run into daddy? I'd really like to meet him!” She leaned her head on an arm with a sigh.
I'm certain Shining Armor is busy on another crusade,” noted Trixie. Unaware he'd knocked her up, they had parted ways at the climax of a war with the so-called Cult of the Nemesis; it was sometime later before the first symptoms of her pregnancy had kicked in. At first she'd been absolutely devastated; but now she couldn't imagine life without her daughter, who pushed her through the darkest days.
Hammocks swung and junk jangled about during the ceaseless journey, which would only stop when they needed to rest or they came across some villa that wasn't marked on her tattered map. She'd pinned it in place with a knife embedded in the wood, which doubled as a last resort weapon if they were attacked and her magic alone wasn't up to the task.
“Hey, don't be so glum. Nightmare Night is around the corner.” She bent over to face her and procured a pack of cards. “How about a magic trick?”
“Only if you'll teach me.” Nonetheless Beatrix's eyes lit up with curiosity when she selected one.
Shuffling the cards, Trixie flashed the same one she'd selected. “Ta-da! An old trick, I know, but you'll have to learn the basics before we move onto the advanced stuff.” She'd started to teach her from the moment she could walk and talk; no way was her daughter going to struggle through life without knowing who her parents even were like she had!
“But I already know this one,” whined Beatrix with a pout. "How many times must I repeat it?"
“Life is rough oftentimes,” said Trixie who also stared at the passing scenery. “Others are often cruel, and you'll need street smarts to survive. I'm used to people throwing rotten fruit or jeers at my shows without giving it a chance sometimes...”
She stopped herself, realizing it probably wasn't appropriate to share her troubles with a child, but knew she'd probably learn first-hand soon enough.
“Can I take to the stage with you next time? Pretty please?” Beatrix put on the most adorable face she could muster.
“Trixie will consider it...if you behave.” Her heart warmed over when the child hugged her and she returned the embrace, lifting her slightly off the treasure trove. “Oh, how can I possibly say no to that cute little button nose?”
“Hooray!” She nuzzled her cheek with her little snout. That was another curiosity of Trixie's union with Shining Armor; in a world of ponies she'd been transformed by the cult's tool, the Necronomicon, into a human while unknowingly carrying a baby, and as a result she had birthed the first anthropomorphic unicorn into the devastated Equestria.
As a result they were simultaneously popular in some places due to their exotic nature, while others looked on them with distrust and scorn, old prejudices stirring as they were outsiders. Not that she fully blamed them after all the damage the cult had done.
The worst part was how alien her daughter felt. There was no one like her in the world, nor had she been able to make any friends. It seemed unfair to keep her on the move constantly, never setting down roots for more than a few weeks at best when the funds started to dry up, but what else could she do?
The last thing she wanted was to lower her pride to begging! No, she told herself she'd be insanely successful someday, if she kept at it, and knew Beatrix could help her achieve that.
“You'll surpass me someday,” assured Trixie. “And I'll be so proud of you. I love you, little one.”
“I love you too,” she answered beaming when her nose was booped. "Tee-hee!"
In their downtime Trixie shared tales about her father the Paladin crusader, his former wife Cadance who'd sadly been lost when the Crystal Empire fell to the cult. And also Beatrix's half-sister Flurry Heart, actually a clone molded by the cult's leader of the real Flurry who'd also died with her mother; but she hesitated to share this knowledge with Beatrix, who was determined to meet her too.
Perhaps she could rekindle her romance with Shining Armor and score a friend for Beatrix if they happened to meet up? It was a dream she constantly chased.
When the procession finally pulled to a stop she and her daughter hopped out, unfolded part of her stage, and she paid off the two hunky stallions with a couple bags of bits before waving them away. They were on the outskirts of civilization, near an enclosed hovel.
After a quick meal of bread that had started to go stale, she lifted her daughter up onstage with her, where they started to practice their movements.
By now they were almost perfectly in sync. They pirouetted with a flourish, capes whirling, brims of hats flopping, their twirling ending in a dramatic pose with a hand on their hips and a finger extended forward. “Presenting the Great and Powerful Trixie, and her number one assistant, up-and-coming Beatrix Belladonna!” She took an exaggerated bow.
“One day to be her equal,” promised Beatrix who copied her movements.
“At least this will keep you out of any mischief!” Her daughter had started to experiment with alchemy, using whatever ingredients she could gather wherever they went, and had almost set their home ablaze one day.
Beatrix whistled innocently, rocking on her boots.
It was obvious each time they trained how much her daughter adored her from the way her features lit up; and how much she wished to follow in her footsteps. She only hoped she wouldn't repeat all her mistakes, too. Maybe it was time she swallowed her pride and sought outside assistance.
Were there counterparts of Lavender Lace and Fuschia Blush in Equestria? If so, assuming they were still alive, she'd track them down and invite them into her currently humble but hopefully expanding tour.
After this practice run they would set up shop for real in the village, rather than sticking to the edges, and Beatrix would have her first real taste of the limelight. Already she could imagine the spectacle; the prismatic fireworks screaming, the music sounding out of her equipment, the colorful miasma blooming around the hopefully starstruck onlookers.
Despite a lifetime often filled with hardship, tranquil moments like these made it all worthwhile.
Author's Note
Something a mainly wrote for myself as a reward for 50 stories written.
