In which paths intertwine
Prologue
He was a mystery. There were only a select few who knew his name, just as there were few who actually knew who he was. To the majority of equestria, he was a lone traveler, stranger to most and friend to few. She was a magician. While many knew her name, almost everybody made it a point to forget it. A stage performer by trade, she made a living through her numerous magic shows across the region. He was a traveler by his own accord, reclusive and almost always on the move. It wasn't the search for adventure that guided him, more so the desire to see the world, coupled with the drive to avoid. Wherever the weather and his wings took him, he moved, never staying anywhere longer than a few weeks. He never made it a point to become friends with anybody, forming bonds with only a very select few ponies along his way. Because of this, even with his departures being overlooked by the majority, there was always someone he would have to say goodbye to, bidding a fond farewell accompanied by the hopes of a future meeting. She, on the other hoof, was a traveler by necessity. Thanks to her rather unique existential requirements, she always had to be on the move. She would go from town to town, putting on shows and attracting as much attention as she could, before moving on once more. Her frequent relocation, albeit imperative to her, was rarely mourned. Her short sprees of attention grabbing were often times forgotten, like a bad memory, discarded by both herself and the townsfolk she had entertained.
It was on these travels that the pair first met, and it was on these travels that their lives became intertwined.
Chapter One
The travelling conditions for the early hours of the day were just about perfect. It was cloudy enough so that it looked like it would rain, but sunny enough that anypony could tell it was just going to stay overcast, at least for the time being. The roads had both ascended and descended the ranks of popularity throughout the day, becoming crowded with travelers during the morning hours before the afternoon began to dwindle the number of ponies walking to and fro. The time had passed by fairly quickly, and despite the ever growing cloud layer, the few and scattered travelers left along the roads could see that it was nearing dusk. While the roads had become emptier throughout the day, the sky had become especially populated, with the lightly grey tinged clouds of the morning being steadily replaced with darker, dismally coloured grey-black counterparts, all the result of whoever made up the local weather teams.
The sun was shining through the clouds just enough to illuminate a long stretch of road, coating that slice of land in a dull, orange-tainted red. This particular stretch of road was empty, save for a lone stallion, walking along to give his wings a rest from his time in the air the prior few days. His long coat brushed against his hind legs as he trotted along, his hat shielding his eyes from the occasional rays of sunlight, and more often, the passersby he encountered.. He carried a single bag with him, and in turn that bag carried the few important belongings he had to his name. The pegasus was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not notice the quick departure of the sun, replaced instead by the grey and dreary colour of a rather overcast dusk. His concentration was only broken by the patter of rain hitting his hat. It was a single drop, but as he looked up, a second and third lighted upon his face.
“Of course...rain. And things were going so well, too.” He muttered, his casual trot speeding up to a brisk canter. The rain began to fall much harder, going from an easily overlooked sprinkle to just short of a rain shower in a woefully short period of time. He stretched his wings, getting ready to fly up above the rain-bearing clouds, but decided against it.
“A little rain never hurt anypony...” He muttered to himself. After weathering the rain for a short time, however, the stallion decided to seek shelter, somewhere he could dry out his now soaked attire. He could only hope the contents of his bag fared better than his coat and hat, not to mention his own self. A cursory glance around the increasingly wet landscape revealed there to be one sole shelter; a caravan was set up just a short distance down the lane. The stallion’s gait changed once more, as he galloped to his new found destination in hopes of escaping the rain, even for a short time.
Trixie Lulamoon, most commonly referred to as The Great and Powerful Trixie, was not in a pleasant mood. She had spent the day on the road after she had once again been forced out of the town she was visiting. The residents this time were relatively hostile, which was especially wounding to her pride. Her exit had been heralded by the spattering of fruit and callous jeers and cries of the locals. However, she had but one task to meet in each town she visited, and that task was met just as it always was.
Trixie was a rather unique brand of unicorn. Her uniqueness was, on the surface, due to her constant boasting and over-exaggerated magical talent, but in reality was due to a literal need for attention. Her sanity, and subsequently her life, rested on the ability to gather other ponies’ attention, to be recognized and noticed. Her attitude, her lifestyle, everything about her had subconsciously developed around this craving. Where a mythical changeling fed off of love, Trixie fed off of attention, though not nearly as violently or harmfully as the fantastical insectoid ponies. At present, though, Trixie was alone. The townsfolk had pushed her out, and she was once again forced to wander the roads in search of a new place to visit and a new crowd to entertain.
She of course blamed the townspeople for their hostility, finding no fault within herself that deserved such harsh criticism and widespread disapproval. There was nobody to appeal to at this hour of the day, especially not with the weather growing ever worse as the day progressed. The ponies she passed along the road were all too busy for a roadside show, not to mention she had no desire for the potential abatement given to her by her fellow travelers. She had chosen to set up camp and wait for the travelling weather to return to a better state, so that she could make her way to the next town on her route. When the rain finally came, it did so with speed and force, and she knew it would be several hours before she could continue on. What she was not expecting was the knocking she heard from her caravan door.
He was already soaked by the time he reached the caravan. The rain was now falling at full tilt, the drizzle having turned into a mildly inclement downpour in a matter of minutes, and while the rainwater was welcomed, the ferocity of the rainstorm was not. He knocked on the caravan door with a particular urgency, wanting nothing more at that point than to seek shelter from the weather. The rain blocked out any sound coming from inside, and he readied his wings, prepared to fly above the cloud layer if there was no answer, only to have the door open mid-movement. Standing in the door frame was a unicorn mare, caped and wielding an air of importance so thick it could cut the especially dampened air.
“Now why have you come knocking at the door of The Great and Powerful Trixie?” She demanded, neither stepping back into her caravan nor stepping out of it. The Pegasus was taken aback by the volume of her voice, and the seemingly regal air with which she announced herself to others. This surprise lasted only a few moments, as the wind picked up and blew more rainwater under the small tarp that hung above Trixie’s caravan door.
“Well, as I’m sure you can see, the weather is quite...hostile at the moment. All I’m looking for is some shelter, if you could be so kind. If not, I’m sure I can find somewhere else to go.” His sentence was lightly tinged with sarcasm, as he made a point to look around and bring note to the complete lack of other sheltering locations, save for rising above the downpour as only a pegasus or alicorn could. Trixie, either oblivious to his sarcasm or seeking to ignore it, simply humphed and remained where she was.
“And what will you do for me if I, the Great and Powerful Trixie, let you enter? I assume you have something to offer in return for your stay.” She looked the stranger up and down, noting his single bag and somewhat imposing air he held about himself. “Not only that, but you have yet to entertain Trixie with your name.”
The stallion sighed. “What would you want? I can’t say I have anything to give.” Another gust of wind blew rain into his face, and he frowned, hoping to rush their conversation along. “As for my name...well... Prose will do just fine.” He spoke evenly, bowing his head as he concluded his sentence. His full name was Twilight Prose, but that was rarely known to anybody but himself.
Trixie couldn't help but smirk as the pegasus was hit with another bout of rain water, but that smirk was replaced by a frown at the failure to give a proper, full name. Nevertheless, she acquiesced to Prose’s request for shelter, but not without getting something out of it first.
“If I let you in, you have to pull my caravan tomorrow. No exceptions, no excuses. Take it or leave it. ”
He was about to decline the deal, having no interest in being subjected to that level of servitude, but the weather had other plans. The storm kicked up, unleashing another torrent of rain down upon the land with renewed fury, and the quiet echoes of thunder could be heard off in the distance.
“Fine, you've got yourself a deal. I’ll pull your caravan for a day if you let me inside.” Prose’s response came out as a grumble, just loud enough to be heard over the rain, and he was relieved when Trixie stepped back, beckoning him inside with a slight, yet arrogantly victorious nod of her head.
Trixie’s caravan was spacious, but was primarily crowded with magic-oriented props. A brief survey of the room revealed much about Trixie, whom Prose was now indebted to, albeit temporarily. It could be seen that she took her craft seriously, whatever that craft was. It could also be seen that she did not tidy up all too often; either that, or she simply had too many items to keep fashionably organized. Either way, the caravan was littered with books, props, and artifacts. The few empty spaces were the small couch adorning the wall opposite the door, a mirror-adorned desk that occupied the front most wall, and a bed that rested against the rearmost wall of the room. The floor was bare wood, cluttered with various items used in her tricks. The walls were coated with posters, all of them advertising Trixie’s one-mare magic show. None of the advertisements were alike, but all displayed the same flare for extravagance that seemed to embody the unicorn herself. These posters seemed to decorate every wall of the caravan, save for a small patch of wall occupied by a multi-hooked rack. This rack was currently holding several purple, star-patterned capes, and an equal number of matching pointy hats. It was here that prose hung his own hat and coat, in the hopes they would dry out overnight.
“Nice place you have here.” Prose remarked in passing, and Trixie simply humphed again in response. “You’re a magician, I see.” His attempt at making conversation was easily overlookable, but the response it merited was quite the opposite.
“A mere magician? Foolish stallion, you are standing in the presence of The Great and Powerful Trixie! Trixie is no mere magician, She is the most talented unicorn in all of Equestria! My shows are put on all across the country, and there is not a pony who goes without seeing it!” Her response was quick and sharp, her tone filled with pride. “Calling me a simple magician is an insult to Trixie’s character.”
“Hey now, I didn't mean to offend.” Prose was quick to apologize, bowing his head ever so slightly as he did so. “The most talented Unicorn in Equestria, you say? Sounds like a performance worth seeing.” Prose was being sincere, but his tone was not without the slightest tinge of sarcasm and amusement at her grandiose claim.
“See to it that it does not happen again. The Great and Powerful Trixie is not one to take insult lightly.” She turned her nose up at him, but dipped her head with a sorrowful sigh. “A performance worth seeing indeed...although none have seemed to think so thus far.” Trixie’s comment was hushed, spoken almost in passing, but true nonetheless.
Prose was unsure if he should reply to her or not, but did so after moments of silence. Choosing his words carefully, he spoke once more. “Well...if your show is as good as you make it sound, I’d be glad to come and see your show. Heck, consider it a token of thanks, for letting me stay here. Aside from our...arrangement, that is.” He frowned slightly at the end, remembering his servitude for the following day. “Speaking of which, just where am I pulling you to? Got a destination, or am I just taking you for a ride?”
Trixie scoffed, but inwardly beamed at the prospect of yet another audience member at her next performance. All the more people to entertain, all the more attention to receive. “You will most certainly not be taking Trixie for an aimless ride. My destination is the next down from here, the supposedly charming hamlet of Ponyville. Not only is it the closest village to our current location, but it has also yet to be graced with a visit from The Great and Powerful Trixie.”
“Do you always speak like that?” he asked impulsively, curious about her near constant usage of the third person. The instant the words left his mouth, he dropped his eyes, inwardly cursing his lack of forethought and quick lip. Seeking to recover, he added, “It’s rather...regal.”
“You’re a rather odd Pegasus, did you know that? I've yet to tell if you are trying to insult me or are simply ignorant of what comes out of your mouth at times.”
With a bitter sigh, Prose attempted to salvage their conversation. “...Anyway. Ponyville, you said? That’s my destination as well. How...coincidental. Perhaps our meeting here was fate, although I’d sooner blame it on the weather and other obvious circumstances.”
“Fate? Hah. The obvious circumstances are the only circumstances. You are here because I let you in, and you remain here because you will pull me to my destination.” Her mouth curved into yet another arrogant smirk, accompanied by the swish of her mane as she spoke.
He noted the change in their arrangement, what with Ponyville being further than a day’s worth of travel, but rather than start an argument with somebody currently sheltering him from the weather, Prose just bit his tongue and let it pass.
With Prose’s lack of a response, silence descended on the caravan. Having nothing more to say, and hearing nothing from her new found companion, Trixie went about her business, reading over a book in preparation for her next show, sprawling comfortably out on her small couch. Prose, having nothing else to do, placed his bag on the floor, hung his hat and coat on the rack midst several of his host’s capes, and sat on the floor. He was going to ask for a spot on the couch, but the unicorn was so comfortably sprawled across it that he didn't have the heart to ask her to move. Regardless, it was not hard for Prose to entertain himself with the various knickknacks scattered around him, and with Trixie engrossed in her reading, time passed into the night, with both ponies oblivious to all but what they were doing.
Despite the few hours that had passed, the storm was still raging outside, rain now punctuated with cavalcades of thunder and bright flashes of lightning. Where the rain was almost soothing in its sound, the thunder was obtrusive and, for Trixie, a source of mild irritation. Prose was pleased with the weather, with storms always being a source of pleasure in his life, assuming he was inside of course. Trixie, on the other hoof, grew tired of the thunder claps, annoyed at their constant interruption of her studies.
“You’re a pegasus, can’t you do something about this atrocious weather?” She questioned, shooting him a look that could freeze a Cerberus in its tracks.
Not at all phased by her glare, and partially amused by her irritation, he leisurely replied, “If I could do something about this storm, don’t you think I would have already? This is a job for a full weather team, not just one, lone pegasus. I’m sorry to say that we’ll just have to wait it out. But, if it’s bothering you so much, why don’t we do something more...constructive than sit in silence?”
He scanned the room for something they could to in order to take their minds off of the intimidating tempest brewing outside the caravan. “ You've certainly got plenty of cards....oh, what’s this?” He inquired, rising to investigate a box he spotted midst the cluttered floor, out of which was protruding a checker board. He brought the box, and subsequently its contents, over to Trixie, presenting her with a silent invitation to play a game of checkers with him.
His suggestion at a plain old board game brought Trixie to scoff once more, but another voluminous clap of thunder changed her mind. Anything would be better than just listening to the storm, unable to properly concentrate on her studies. Using her magic, she set up the game, with Prose using the red pieces and Trixie sporting the black. Noticing that prose seemed rather close to questioning her, she interrupted curtly. “I trust you have no complaints?” Prose shrugged, and lazily replied, “No objections here. All I was going to say was, ‘mares first’.” He watched her thoughtfully move one of the small, cylindrical pieces to its new resting space, all the while mourning his lack of magic in a fleeting thought accompanied by the envious observation of the ease with which Trixie levitated her checker piece.
“Those abilities of yours sure are convenient...” He remarked in passing, nudging one of his own pieces in turn.
“As I stated before, I am the most talented unicorn in all of Equestria. Levitating a game piece is foal’s play for a mare of my skill.” She boasted, once again moving one of her pieces. Prose remained silent, sliding a piece across the board, watching as she did the same shortly after. Their turns were quick, but nobody had taken the lead yet. It was Prose who took the first jump of the game, lazily taking one of Trixie’s pieces off the board and advancing his own.
The mare’s lips pursed into a frown, and she immediately took his piece, removing it from the board with a steely glare. Her gaze was met with a playful smile, but he could tell Trixie was not to be trifled with in competition. Their game continued like this for a while, with the two players locked in what seemed to be constant stalemate. Neither one of them was losing, and neither one was winning, much to the appreciation and the chagrin of both players. Over time it became apparent that one of them would have to throw the game, but neither wanted to risk the loss. The board was mostly empty, the remaining pieces made up entirely of kings. There were only a few scattered pieces left, but any attempt at a win resulted in the loss of a piece. Prose turned to conversation in an attempt to wear down his opponent, irked that he couldn’t even get a hoofhold in such a simple game as this. Still, it provided more time to learn a thing or two about the mare giving him shelter from the raging weather outside.
“So, Trixie. Just what is your story anyway?” He asked, surrendering another card to the Unicorn. “Assuming I’m allowed to inquire, that is.”
Trixie was silent for a moment, before taking one of his kings. Only when she was finished with her turn did she reply to Prose’s question, “If you are asking about my past, I hardly think such details are your business. You are but a guest, after all.” She put heavy emphasis on the last section of her statement, which earned her a frown from Prose, and the loss of another one of her kings. Their game continued along in silence for another short while, before Prose dared speak up once more.
“Just a guest, eh? And here I was, looking to extend some polite friendship to someone so generously sheltering me from the weather.” His eyes darted from the board to Trixie and back, finally gaining the upper hoof in their game with the conquer of one of her last kings.
“Friendship? Friendship? What use has a travelling magician for friendship? I go as I please, wherever I please! Regardless, you’ll only be around until you follow through with your end of our little bargain.” She laughed as she spoke, genuinely amused, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt sorrow. Trixie had not had a true friend for many, many years. The only question was; would she accept one now? Prose’s expression took on faint displeasure, as Trixie took one of his kings, leaving the both of them with one piece each. He didn't even bother making a move, choosing instead to respond.
“Even travelers can have friends. I’m probably on the move just as much as you are, Trixie. Not to mention I’m more socially avoidant than anypony I know. That doesn't stop me from having a social circle. Doesn't matter how long you’re in someone’s company, you can still make friends. ”
Trixie’s only response was a huff, before she . “The hour grows late and I need rest. The game ends in a stalemate.” Her words were brief, quickly spoken, and they cut the tension in the air like a knife. She levitated all of the pieces, board included, into an orderly arrangement as she spoke, not waiting for confirmation or reply, stowing it all back in the box. “You can sleep on the couch.” She nodded curtly to him, before retiring to her bed. She waited for Prose to take his resting place, before dousing the candles with her magic. A few moments passed, before either of them spoke.
“Thank you. You could have turned me away, but you let me stay here. As much as you might not favor friendship, that was kind of you to do.”
Trixie was silent, and remained that way long enough for Prose to think her asleep. Just as he was about to retire himself, however, she spoke.
“Nopony has befriended me in many a year.” Her voice was quiet, low enough that the Pegasus had to strain to pick up her words at all.
Her statement struck a sorrowful chord in Prose, as he knew very well what it was like to not have anybody to call a friend. She was arrogant, yes, and relatively self centered, but even the most distant, boastful of ponies deserved to have a friend. “So how about it?” He questioned. “I’d rather be indebted to a friend then be servant to a stranger.” Her reply came several moments later, in the same quiet tone as before.
“Perhaps.”
Author's Note
Trixie's rather obscure issue came from an idea a friend of mine contributed when I started contemplating a tale involving the aforementioned mare. In hindsight, it's not the best addition to an already established character. If this does continue, don't expect it to be referenced much.
