Viking Day (Trixie)


                                            >The smell was horrendous.

                                            >Puke, piss, and who knows what else.

                                            >Back down this path again, stone blind, don't know where you are, waking up in a pool of bodily fluids mixed with spilled alcohol.

                                            >You pull yourself up and walk a few feet before collapsing on a clean patch of grass. Your head hurts to much to walk far, or use your magic to clean up, not that it matters.

                                            >You look around with blurry eyes, spotting the bottle nearby.

                                            >You manage enough telekinesis to pull it over and turn it up, gulping down the last few swallows of the burning whiskey.

                                            >That's just enough to knock you out. Back into the dark void of dreamless unconsciousness that's not really sleep.

                                            >After your eyes close and before your consciousness slips away you see her face.

                                            >That stupid purple bitch that took everything, destroyed your life, made you the Drunk and Dirty Trixie.

                                            >Then nothing.

                                            ******

                                            >You are Anon.

                                            >Walking the road from Manehattan to your home in Canterlot.

                                            >Whistling a little tune you are enjoying the early morning sunlight, Celestia's sun just peeking over the horizon.

                                            >Not really watching where you are going you step on a bottle that rolls out from under your foot.

                                            >Suddenly you are on your back, no air in your lungs, and looking up as the last star from Luna's night fades away.

                                            >Assessing the damage you determine that nothing is broken. Rolling onto your side to get up you see some silver and blue, out of place in the green.

                                            >You stand and walk to the edge of the road for a closer look.

                                            >It's a pony, a mare. She's dirty and looks dead so you go for a closer look and notice she is still breathing, but sleeping heavily.

                                            "Hello mam, are you ok?"

                                            >No response so you lean over and shake her gently. All you get in response is a snore.

                                            >The smell hits you now. No wonder she's out.

                                            >You scoop her up and put her across your shoulders, can't leave her here for wild animals or something.

                                            >Returning to the road you continue heading for home, whistling your tune.

                                            *******

                                            >You come slowly back to reality. Alive, dammit. The first sense to return is smell, and it confuses the hell out of you.

                                            >Coffee and a clean smell, is that soap? Lavender soap. Eggs, bacon, pancakes? Wha?

                                            >You hear the sound of tableware clicking next to you and the smell of food makes your empty stomach rumble loudly.

                                            >You crack open an eye and immediately regret it. Light pierces your head like a knife causing you to close your eyes and grab your head with a moan.

                                            >”Sorry, sorry” a voice says quietly “let me get the blinds.”

                                            >You hear rustling and the sound of wooden blinds being drawn.

                                            >”OK, it should be dark enough now. Bet that hangover is a bad one, why don’t you sit up and eat something. There is coffee too. I’ll be in the kitchen, call out if you need me.”

                                            >With that he walks away, leaving you alone with the wonderful smells.

                                            >Something is strange about the sound of his hoofsteps but your head hurts too much to dwell on it.

                                            >You ease open your eyes again to a dark room. There is just enough light coming from what you assume is the kitchen to see the plate of food on the table beside your bed.

                                            >Looking around you realize it’s not a bed but a sofa. There is a blanket and nice soft pillows. As you sit up slowly to better reach the food your mind registers the fact that you are clean. Your mane is even brushed and has no tangles in it.

                                            >Your stomach growls again, overriding your confusion with hunger.

                                            >The food is delicious, the coffee drives away most of your headache.

                                            >You feel more like a pony than you have in weeks, and you don’t like it.

                                            >Time to go get some answers.

                                            >You scoop up your empty plate and cup and head for the kitchen.

                                            ******

                                            >Back in the kitchen you begin the cleanup process. Washing the dishes and putting them away.

                                            >You are slightly hindered by the heavy furs and leather you are wearing, but it's viking day. Got to wear your costume!

                                            >You adjust the horned helmet on your head and glance at the door.

                                            >That poor mare. She never even stirred when you got her home, cleaned her up and put her on the sofa.

                                            >She sure tied one on. You haven't seen anyone sleep that hard since you came to this world.

                                            >Finishing the dishes you wipe down the countertops and pour yourself a cup of coffee. This is the best thing about Equestria. It's so thick a spoon can stand up in it, and sweet enough to not need sugar or any sweetener.

                                            >You have a seat at the table and wait for the sounds of eating to stop in the living room.

                                            >Running your fingers through your beard you contemplate existence for a while.

                                            ******

                                            >You float the dishes beside you as you step into the kitchen. The first thing you notice is the countertops are higher than your head.

                                            >You scan the room, your eyes landing on your host.

                                            >The shock of what you see causes you to lose the grip on the dishes and they clatter to the floor.

                                            >A minotaur. You've been captured by a minotaur. He's sitting at a table, a cup of coffee in front of him, rubbing his chin and staring off into space.

                                            >He's probably thinking up the best recipe to cook you with.

                                            >You're not giving up without a fight. Grabbing the dishes you dropped in your magic you fling them at the beast, startling him. With a yelp he falls backward, chair and all crashing to the floor.

                                            >You turn and run back into the living room, looking for the door, in vain. Who builds houses without front doors.

                                            >There was a door in the kitchen, maybe you can get out that way before he gets up.

                                            >Dashing back into the kitchen you dive for the door. As you fling it open with your magic you hear the beast speak.

                                            “Wait! Don't go. I won't hurt you!”

                                            >The soft tone of his voice stops you in your tracks.

                                            >Looking up, the familiar skyline of Canterlot greets you. What are you doing here?

                                            >Turning to look at the source of the voice you put your backside out the door just in case you need to escape fast.

                                            >It occurs to you that if this creature wanted to eat you then it wouldn't have fed and cleaned you, or tucked you in so you could sleep of your drunk comfortably.

                                            >The minotaur’s horns are gone, no, they fell off. Lying next to the...thing...is a helmet with horns on it. As the creature sits up it's thick coat of fur falls away to reveal a strange, hairless body covered in a cloth shirt.

                                            “You're not a minotaur...what the hay are you?”

                                            >”I'm a human, I'm not from Equestria. I'm not even from this dimension. Name’s Anon.”

                                            >The human gets to his feet, straightening his furs and placing the helmet back on his head.

                                            >You take a cautious step back into the kitchen.

                                            “So you’re not going to eat me?”

                                            >”What?! Eat you?” A look of horror crosses Anon’s face. “Why would I eat a pony? That’s just wrong.”

                                            “Why are you dressed like a minotaur anyway?”

                                            >”I’m not” he says, looking down at his clothes “It’s viking day back where I came from, so I dress like a viking.”

                                            >You finally relax and walk back into the kitchen. Looking over this human makes you realise that he’s not quite there, maybe a little touched in the head. Might as well introduce yourself.

                                            “Nice to meet you Anon. I am the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

                                            >You wave a hoof in the air grandly.

                                            “Thank you for your kindness but I must know: how did I get to Canterlot?”

                                            >Anon sits back down in his chair after picking it up off the floor.

                                            >”I carried you. I found you on the side of the road just outside Manehattan and thought you were dead. When I checked you were breathing so I brought you here.”

                                            “You carried me all the way from Manehattan? Walking all that way?”

                                            >”Yup”

                                            “I can’t believe it. How long have I been out?”

                                            >”Well, I found you just after sunrise yesterday and it’s mid morning now so, at least a day and a night.”

                                            >You stare at Anon in bafflement. You’re not surprised at being out that long, it’s happened before.

                                            “You walked from Manehattan to Canterlot in a day? That road takes me two days by hoof. Even if I’m not pulling a cart.”

                                            >A big, goofy grin spreads on Anons face. “I did it before sundown, with you on my shoulders. I did eat lunch as I walked. I had a few apples in my pack. I can carry you back to Manehattan if you need me to, or you can take the train.”

                                            “No, no...thank you, I don’t need to go back there. Nothing to go back to anyway.”

                                            >You dip your head slightly, memories of your time there resurfacing. Manehattan was not kind to you at all. You went there hoping for a fresh start but wound up blind drunk in a ditch.

                                            >Anon picks up on your forlorn look and says softly: “I’m sorry, I thought you might have a home or family there to get back to.”

                                            >You immediately revert to your show persona to cover your pain. It’s reflex.

                                            “The Great and Powerful Trrrixie’s home is the road. She has no ties to one place, and no family to hold her back! All she needs is her magick.”

                                            >You cast a spell and in a puff of smoke your cape and hat appear on your body. You stand up and strike a pose, looking down your muzzle at a shocked Anon.

                                            >His shock only lasts for a moment as that big, goofy grin comes back and he starts to clap and cheer. “Wow! That was awesome, do another!”

                                            >You oblige, it’s the least you can do after he helped you, and seeing that goofy grin makes you feel good for some reason. Almost like you used to feel before the purple bitch ruined it all.

                                            >You go through your routine. Watching as Anon chases wispy butterflies and breezies around the room. You even conjure the Ursa major for him to fight with his foam axe that is apparently part of his costume.

                                            >After an hour or so you are laughing so hard you can’t maintain your magic anymore. The endorphins from the laughter have driven away the last of your hangover and you feel almost normal.

                                            >You settle into polite conversation, swapping stories of your time on the road.

                                            >Apparently, Anon has been here for several years. Brought here by Discord for a laugh, he decided to stick around because there was nothing in his world to return to. After a few months he realized that, even with all the friendship magic around this place, ponies were wary of him at best, terrified of him at worst.

                                            >So he wandered the roads as an outcast, doing odd jobs here and there when somepony would let him.

                                            >The Princesses gave him this house in Canterlot, probably to keep an eye on him.

                                            >He doesn't seem bothered by his lack of friends. Mostly you see a lot of parallels with your own life, although you are friendless for different reasons.

                                            >The more you learn about him, the more you open up about yourself. The more you recall your past, the more you want a drink.

                                            >Anon is simple, but he’s obviously not stupid. He picks up on your souring mood rather quickly and gets up from the table..

                                            >”Don’t get down, I got something to cheer you up!

                                            >You watch from your seat as he starts dragging out ingredients. A big box of crackers and a jar of peanut butter.

                                            >No way. How could he know your weakness?

                                            >Heading back to the table with the food of the God’s and a few knives he sits back down.

                                            >You try your best to hide the fact your mouth is watering. It’s been so long since you had peanut butter crackers.

                                            >Anon, with amazing dexterity, slaps the creamy substance on the crispy crackers and slides some over to you.

                                            “Thank you”

                                            >You almost whisper the words, barely able to find your voice.

                                            >As you pop the first one in your mouth, tears start to roll down your cheeks. No matter how hard you try you can’t stop them.

                                            ******

                                            >You look across the table at the blue pony. You don’t understand why but she is smiling, with tears running out of her eyes.

                                            >She looked like she was getting sad, talking about her past life, so you fixed her your favorite snack. Peanut butter crackers always make you feel better when you get sad.

                                            >You decide to give her a minute, spreading peanut butter on more crackers. Eventually you run out of crackers. Trixie is staring at a spot on the wall, chewing slowly with tears leaking from her eyes.

                                            >You go to the refrigerator and get out some apple juice, grabbing a glass you pour her some and set it in front of her on the table.


                                            ******


                                            [I didn't write this part, some other Anon did. Call it an Alt ending.]

                                            >>Ignoring the glass at all, she keeps staring at wall. You can't tell if she is happy or sad, it seems like both.

                                            >>You think about something to say, but settle on letting her have her time.

                                            >>After 10min her eyes seem to focus again and slowly wander from "her" spot on the wall over to your face.

                                            >>They linger a moment on your own, then hastily avert and settle on the glass of juice.

                                            >>She lifts the glass with her magic and gulps down th content in one go.

                                            >>You pick up the now empty glass in an attempt to fill it in the kitchen, when she speaks up again.

                                            >>"I think I should go."

                                            >>You set the glass back on the table and look at her, but she avoids your gaze.

                                            >"Are you sure? You are welcome to stay if it helps you."

                                            >>You offer with a small smile.

                                            >>The mare looks at her spot at the wall, closes her eyes, opens them again and finally turns them to you.

                                            >>"The Great and Powerful Trixie never needs help! She is strong and free, like the wind and the ocean!" She proclaims in her show voice, but her tone is bitter.

                                            >"Oh, ok." You respond a bit startled.

                                            >>Before you can come up with a more useful reply, the blue unicorn is on her way to your front door and made her hat and cape appear once again.

                                            >>"You must not thank The Great and Powerful Trixie! She always enjoys speding time with her numerous fans!"

                                            >>While you can't think of any response to that, you open up the door and keep watching her quizzically.

                                            >>She takes longer that necessary to step over the threshold, and finally outside, she looks back at you with an expression you can only interpret as restrained despair.

                                            >>"Thank you....for everything." She whispers.

                                            >> She turns her head and starts galloping down the road, leaving you behind, wondering about what had happend.

                                            [end Alt ending]


                                            ********


                                            “Are they good? My mom always made them for me when I’d had a bad day. Peanut Butter crackers, apple juice, and a hug made it all better.”

                                            >That’s what she needs. A hug.

                                            >You scoop her up off the chair, eliciting a small squeak. You pull her against your chest and sit down in her chair, resting her on your lap.

                                            >You hold her close as she begins to sob. You run your fingers through her mane and rub her back, letting her cry it out all over your bearskin robe.

                                            >After what seems like hours but is only a few minutes, Trixie cries herself out. She pulls her head away from your chest and looks up at you.

                                            >You brush her mane back out of her eyes and kiss her forehead just below her horn, just like your mother did for you.

                                            “All better now?” you ask.

                                            >”I do feel better, but why Anon? You don't know me, you pulled me out of a ditch and took care of me. I'm hated and shunned everywhere I go. Nopony would dare take me in after all the things I've done.”

                                            >Her face turns hard and she pushes off your lap, stepping toward the door.

                                            >”Thank you for your kindness, but I think I should be going.”

                                            >Lighting her horn, she opens the door and starts out, only to stop when she sees it's dark outside already.

                                            “Why?” is all you ask to her back as she stands in the door.

                                            >”Why what? I shouldn't be here, I don't need your charity. I can take care of myself, and I need a drink” she mutters the last, barely audible.

                                            “Why will nopony take you in? What could you possibly have done that's so bad, in this super happy Technicolor utopia, that would make you an outcast and hated”

                                            >She doesn't respond, hanging her head, her tail going limp.

                                            “I wander the roads, seeing all of Equestria, but not its residents. I try to show kindness, try to help out where I can. Today is the first time, in all the years I've been here that somepony has talked to me for longer than 5 minutes. I'm lucky to get a pony to stand still long enough to introduce myself. I understand their fear of me because I'm different and kinda scary too, I guess, but you're not scary or mean. So, why?”

                                            >Without turning around, Trixie says in a low voice: “I've hurt ponies, and done horrible things. I don't deserve kindness.”

                                            >Raising her head, she strides out the door, slamming it behind her with her magic.

                                            >You sit there for only a moment before rising from your chair and going after her.

                                            ******

                                            >Running all out down the road, you give it all your hooves will take. Not sure where you are going, just away from Anon.

                                            >For a moment you felt good. No guilt and shame. No pain from the memories of the hurt you caused. You even forgot your hate of a certain purple bitch.

                                            >That human, his curiosity ripping the scabs off your wounds. You can't blame him though. He was just trying to help, but you don't want that help.

                                            >Tears cloud your eyes as you run, pushing yourself faster.

                                            >You hear someone call your name. Looking back over your shoulder you see Anon striding down the road behind you, his long legs carrying him much faster than you can run.

                                            >You trigger a smoke spell, diving to your left into some bushes to hide.

                                            >Ducking low you hold your breath. If you can be quiet enough then maybe he will run past and not notice.

                                            >You listen as his footsteps go by, and stop about ten feet down the road from you.

                                            >Anon stands in the middle of the road. You can see him through a break in the foliage in front of you as the smoke clears.

                                            >”Trixie?” he asks, turning in the road and looking all around.

                                            >He stomps in frustration, looking up to Luna’s moon he shouts: “Can’t I meet one pony who doesn't run away, just one!

                                            >With that declaration he sits down in the middle of the road, crossing his arms over his knees and burying his face in them.


                                            ******


                                            >One year has passed. It’s Viking day again.

                                            >You watch as Anon mock battles your pet manticore Frederick. Wrestling all over the stage to the delight and cheers of the crowd.

                                            >You think back over the last year, all the changes your life has gone through in such a short time. All the strange ponies and other creatures you and Anon have met.

                                            >It hasn’t been easy, letting go of your old vices, but your first friend has been there. Never failing, always supporting you no matter what.

                                            >Dragging you back out on the road, helping get your show back on track and building it into something new.

                                            >You still get run out of some towns, laughed at and scorned. Anon is still feared in some places, but together you’ve found a new courage, to face the hate and reply with kindness.

                                            >As Anon finishes off the hairy beast you see your cue.

                                            >Leaping from the wings you wrap your forehooves around his neck, just like you did that night on the road.

                                            >The night you discovered; Friendship is Magic.

                                            End.