The Great Anonymous: Chapter 1

The Great Anonymous

An Anonymous in Equestria Story

By IceMan

 

Chapter 1

 

>You are Twilight Sparkle.

>It has been a year since everything changed for you.

>You once believed the Magic of Friendship to conquer all, but then you met Anonymous.

>Your father once told you that, “Whenever you feel like criticizing someone, just remember that not everyone has all the gifts you have.”

 >You were inclined to reserve your judgment of people for a later time, willing to let bygones be bygones, and willing to give second chances.

>Then you watched how people went at each other’s throats over the pettiest things, and not even the precious Magic of Friendship could stop them.

>It all began a summer ago, when you came to a little cottage between two cliffs . . .

 

>You are Anonymous.

>For years now, you have been a man scrambling to the top of the pile, and, finally, you can almost taste the complete sweetness of success.

>Standing on your balcony in West Cliff, holding a small glass of Canterlot wine, you feel the light breeze streak across your face and stare out at the waving green flag across the chasm, the emerald color faded by the white puffs of fog floating up from the valley far below.

>You have lived in your great mansion in West Cliff, home of the rich and powerful, mainly the self-made, for almost a year now, waiting, waiting for the moment of truth.

>And, one day, it finally comes.

>On the morning of June the 4th, a small taxi carriage pulls up to the abandoned cottage next to your abode, by the cliff and drops of a lavender unicorn carrying a bag of thick books.

>You know exactly who this unicorn is and heard much of her exploits across this land.

>She will be the key to unlocking your goal.

“Butler. Send a cordial invitation to the new arrival, Miss Twilight Sparkle.”

 

>You are Twilight Sparkle, and you can barely believe where your summer vacation has led you.

>It was a time of peace and prosperity, almost a year since a major crisis required the Elements of Harmony to be summoned together, and many of your friends had decided to settle down.

>Somehow, Rarity managed to re-earn the favor of Prince Blueblood, a stallion who she had formerly left with a layer cake smashed on his head.

>You need some time away from the old gang down in Ponyville for some time to study, and ended up in a tiny groundskeeper’s hut in the swankiest part of Canterlot.

>It was not exactly what you wanted; you would have preferred a quieter residence, far away from any distractions.

>You can barely believe your bad luck, but you have a feeling Rarity’s “connections” had something to do with it.

>You had asked her for some help in acquiring a residence for the summer, and you guess she just had to get you a place in the finest part of town: West Cliff.

>Then again, she may have just wanted to see you more often as well, as she was planning on staying with her husband, Prince Blueblood, just across in East Cliff.

>She’s been living with him for a few months now.

>And, so, you tipped your driver, lugged your bags of books inside, and just sat down to study a bit of Equestrian finance when the phone rings.

“Hello?” you answer, lifting the receiver with telekinesis.

>“Twilight!” Rarity’s smooth high-pitched tone floats through the receiver. “I was just wondering if you would join the three of us for dinner tonight. Well, that would be me, Blueblood, and Fleur de Lis, you remember her, right?”

>“Well, uh, I was considering catching up on some studying but –”

“Excellent, we will see you at seven, then.”

>The line drops dead.

>You dial the number for the taxi service, then manage to get a bit of reading in before being whisked away from your miniscule abode to the soaring castles of East Cliff, the home of royalty and old families with lineages spanning centuries.

>The shadow of the Canterlot Palace hung low over East Cliff in the sunset as your cab pulled up to one of the largest houses on the cliff: the residence of the Blueblood clan.

>It was an enormous structure, its bricks carved from the finest marble and topped with a spiraling gold and purple roof, like many of the buildings around it.

>A vast green lawn spread right out to a small airship dock on the edge, a green flag fluttering in the breeze below a similarly-colored, but inactivated, lantern.

>The lawn seems to seamlessly flow onto an immense cedar patio with towering marble pillars surrounding the house.

>Prince Blueblood was one of those ponies who reached such a level of wealth and excellence in his younger years that everything afterwards was practically an anti-climax.

>He was a fellow student with you at the Royal Academy for Gifted Unicorns, but was accepted for different reasons.

>He was a star track runner there, to the point where many of the surrounding schools, including the Equestrian Military Academy, hated him with the sort of vigor that only sportsmanly competition can bring.

>Even three years after leaving the Royal Academy, his form was still one of acute athletic prowess: hard as iron, unyielding.

>His white coat and blue mane shone with perfect grooming.

>You met Rarity on the porch.

>“It sure is a nice place,” she tells you. “Much bigger than my little boutique back in Ponyville. Come inside! Blueblood’s dying to meet you more formally, darling.”

>Rarity leads you down a long hallway.

>An earth pony butler cautiously steps around you as he steps out of the kitchen, where the smell of roasting vegetables swims out from the cracked door.

>Sprawled on the pale velvet couch in the study is a thin white unicorn with a pastel pink mane.

>“Twilight, you remember Fleur de Lis, correct?” Rarity asks.

“No, actually. When would we have met?”

>“At that garden party hosted by Fancy Pants, remember? It was on your birthday.”

>You furrow your brow, trying to remember.

>“Well, pleased to make your acquaintance now, Ms. Sparkle,” Fleur states, rising from the couch like a spirit.

>“And here’s the man of the hour,” Rarity declares.  

>The stomping of hooves echoes down the hallway into the study, and Prince Blueblood enters.

>“So, you are Twilight Sparkle,” he says, his voice a smooth tenor, raised in the finest parts of Equestrian society. “Rarity gabs about you all the time.”

>“Well, of course I do, darling. She’s one of my closest friends!”

>Blueblood merely nods and chuckles.

>“Yeah, yeah . . . Ms. Sparkle, would you like anything to drink?”

>He pulls out a crystal bottle of Manehattan Distillery whiskey, slightly emptied, the amber fluid sloshing about a bit as he raises it to the top of the cabinet with his magic.

“No thanks, I don’t drink,” you reply.

>“Well, more for me then.”

>Blueblood pours himself a small glass, then whistles for a butler.

>“Get a bucket of ice,” he orders, and the pony rushes off, then quickly returns with an metal pail filled with ice.

>Blueblood adds a few cubes to his whiskey.

>“So, tell us, Ms. Sparkle. Where are you staying?” Blueblood inquires.

“In West Cliff,” you respond.

>Blueblood almost chokes.

>“That barbaric place? Only scoundrels live in West Cliff. Robber barons and bootleggers. Uch.”

>You frown.

>“Now, darling,” Rarity says to her husband.

>She turns to you.

>“West Egg is an excellent part of town, don’t let Blueblood fool you. There’s plenty of respectable people there.”

>“You’re right, dear,” Blueblood relents.

>“Well, surely if she lives in West Cliff she knows about Anonymous,” Fleur de Lis peeps up.

>You raise an eyebrow.

>“You don’t?”

“I normally live back in Ponyville. I’m only here for the summer to study a bit of economics and to get away from the usual day-to-day,” you explain.

“Anonymous?” Rarity asks. “What Anonymous? Anyways, I think it’s time for dinner.”

>And, with that, you are whisked into the dining room as a dozen butlers display the creations of the Blueblood kitchen on the finest white china plates and exquisite drinks in crystal goblets.

>The orange sunset reflects off the cutlery from the vast double glass doors leading out onto the porch.

>As you cut into a piece of blanched asparagus, Blueblood asks, “So, Twilight. Rarity tells me you’re an avid reader.”

>You nod.

>“Have you perhaps read The Rise of the Earthen Empires?”

“No, I haven’t.”

>“It’s excellent,” Blueblood states. “The author basically makes a case that unless we unicorns look out for each other, those pegasi and earth ponies are going to completely overrun us.”

>You remain stony-faced.

>“It’s all scientific stuff. Proven by some of the best scientists at the Royal Academy.”

>“Blueblood’s been rather philosophical as of late,” Rarity finishes, giggling a bit.

>And so the evening wore on.

>While you were used to rushed affairs for dinner down in Ponyville, here meals were full of bantering inconsequence, and simply floated from course to course as if they were hot air balloons in a light breeze.

>Then, breaking the floating mood, the phone rings, and Blueblood practically jumps to get it, rushing down the hall to the receiver.

>Rarity trots after him, leaving you and Fleur alone.

“What could that be about?” you ask.

>Fleur shushes you.

>After a moment of eavesdropping, she says, “I have an idea. It’s just a rumor but . . . I’ve heard Blueblood has another mare. Down in Ponyville.”

“What? No way. Pinkie Pie would have told me about it.”

>“Who?”

“She’s a friend of mine. She knows all of the goings on in town down there.”

>“Well, perhaps she has chosen not to tell you about. Or there is some reason she can’t tell you.”

>You ponder this in silence until Blueblood walks back in with Rarity.

>At least Blueblood’s mistress might have the common sense not to call during dinner.

>“I apologize for that,” he says. “Does anyone perhaps want to go for a walk? Or for a ride in the chariot? It’s a very pleasant evening.”

>Blueblood spends the next few minutes discussing his collection of fine chariots that he keeps on the grounds until Rarity shakes her head.

>You have a faint instinct to walk over to that phone and call the police.

>Even if Fleur’s rumor is wrong, someone should investigate the matter.

>Somehow, you manage to suppress these urges.

>Eventually, Blueblood and Fleur walked back into the study, and you and Rarity walk out on to the porch.

 “It really is a pleasant evening,” you observe, watching moths flutter against the lanterns hanging on the eaves.

>The white mare sighs.

>“I’ve grown rather cynical as of late, Twilight,” she says.

“Why so?”

>“I don’t really know. It’s just . . . it’s just. You know what I’ve come to realize? The only thing a mare can be in this world is a beautiful little fool.”

“Rarity, you know that’s not true.”

>“Yes, it is. And when I have a foal, and I hope she’s a mare, that’s what I want her to be, just a beautiful little fool.”

“Rarity, don’t say such things. You’re a brilliant mare, you’re a great designer and you have the stallion of your dreams. Why should you want anyone to grow up without the gifts you have been given?”

>Rarity doesn’t respond.

>You walk back into the study, where Blueblood and Fleur are finishing reading a magazine.

>The clock strikes ten.

“Ten o’ clock,” you state. “I . . . I should probably be getting home.”

>“No, don’t leave yet!” Rarity pleads. “You’ve got to tell about the stallion you got engaged to back in Ponyville! I almost forgot!”

“What?! Where did you here that from?”

>“Well, I guess . . . uh . . . it was just a rumor . . . . But, three people told me you had find your special somepony.”

>“No!” you exclaim. “Rarity, you would have been one of the first people I would have told if I had a special somepony.”

>An awkward silence follows.

>“I’ll call you a cab,” Blueblood suggests, getting up to dial the phone.

>As you walk out onto the porch once the chariot arrives, you almost expect Rarity to rush out and tell you to buy her a train ticket back to Ponyville, but your desires are unsatisfied.

>You never particularly liked Blueblood, and you have a feeling that he is having a poor influence on your friend.

>And the fact that he might even have another mare is frankly disgusting to you, though not surprising, given what you know of his character from what Rarity told of her experience with him at the Grand Galloping Gala.

>Even if he might have appeared to have changed his ways from the boorish jerk that he was almost two years ago, you still find it unlikely that he could leave it all behind.

>When you arrive home, you tip your cabby and head onto a dewy grass knoll to stare at the rising moon for a brief moment.

>It really was a pleasant summer evening, as you had noted before, not too hot, not too cold, with only a few clouds obscuring the moon.

>You hear the creak of a door and spot a figure exiting from the mansion next door to your cottage.

>It’s a bipedal figure.

>And that is the strangest thing of all.

>There are no bipedal creatures of its build that you know of in Equestria.

>It’s tall and lanky, with a round head and what appear to be five thick claws on the ends of its arms.

>It walks out onto its airship dock and stares across the cliff to a flashing green lantern light and up to the inky black star-dotted sky.

>In the pale moonlight, it (as the creature’s gender is indeterminable) appears to be almost trembling.

>You consider calling out to it, but you don’t.

>You merely listen to cacophony of frogs and cicadas before turning in for the night.