[PR] The burdens We bear: Prelude [ON HOLD]

>"State your name and rank, please," the voice coming from the other end of the table ordered.

>You took your time forming an answer. Even for something as simple as this.

>The way you were going to word what was to come would determine not only the direction, but also the length of the rest of your life.

>It took far longer than what would be deemed necessary before you finally replied.

>It came out with just a little uncertainty wavering through, calculated and perfectly inoffensive.

>This situation could still turn any way and all of those possibilities had already been tossed and turned by all parties involved.

>Through the years, you'd learned how to put up a nearly immaculate facade.

>You weren't exactly proud of it, but deceit and deception came with the job.

 

"Anonymous... Royalty by extension."

>"Do you know why you are here, Anonymous?"

"Anon. Just call me Anon," you answer before an itch you were getting more and more familiar with crawled down your throat, causing you to cough a few times.

"... and yes, I know why I'm here," you finish after the irritation in your throat had subdued.

 

>A stallion walks in the room and sets a glass of water down in front of you.

>You give him a small nod in return as sign of your appreciation.

>"State why you are here if you would, sir."

"I'm here to answer your questions," you reply dryly, glaring at your questioner.

>"Sir, please. If you're willing to work with us, this'll be over all the faster. Now, could you please state why you are here?"

>You sigh in defeat, knowing that you were only stalling the inevitable.

>You lost your fighting spirit along the ages.

"I am here to answer to the claims made against Princess Sparkle."

>"Very well. These conversations will be registered and recorded. Anything you say can, and if necessary will, be used as evidence in court. Do you understand this, Anonymous?"

"Anon. Just Anon. And yes, I am aware of what an interrogation enthralls."

>"Let's not waste any time then. Anonymo―    Anon, what is your relationship with Twilight Sparkle?"

>Another low sigh is given as you let the past replay in your mind.

"Married. We were married."

"Well... technically we still are. Although, given the circumstances, I believe that you can probably see why I prefer to no longer consider us... together. That marriage ended a long time ago to me."

 

"Longer than what I figure you're assuming..."

>You take a sip of the glass stood in front of you and as the cool water floods your sore throat, so do the memories flood your mind.

 

 

>It had started out like any other day.

>To you, at least...

>Probably because you didn't have one of those butt-tattoos.

 

>Your morning routine had gone as smoothly as ever that day.

>It was when you left the house to go to Sugarcube Corner that you noted things were... off.

>You couldn't put a finger on it yet, but you already knew it was going to be one of those days again.

>Though, 'normal' wasn't exactly the word you'd use to describe this town so you just shrugged and marched onward.

>Perhaps Pinkie could alleviate your worries with copious amounts of coffee and sugar-laden treats.

 

>When you were young, they told you to never skip out on breakfast.

>What they ―didn't― tell you however, was not to eat a dozen of donuts for breakfast on daily basis.

>On a mental score-board you take note; Anon - one, Authorities - zero.

>Pleased by your victory, you continue the march towards the towns' bakery.

>Out of nowhere, a drop of water falls on your nose, distracting you from your mental celebration.

>You look up and are hit in the face with what you believe to be the contents of Ponyville lake.

>In a matter of seconds, a torrential downpour of magnitudes you'd never seen before had started, soaking you to the bone.

>What the hell? The weather schedule you'd gotten from Dash didn't say a thing about rain today.

>Then, just as sudden as it had started, the downpour stopped.

"Thank Cele―"

 

>Snow.

>Out of nowhere, snow.

>And lots of it.

>As in, 'covering you to your waist in snow'-lots of it.

>Given the fact that you came in a bit over six feet that roughly equated to three feet of snowfall in about a second, give or take a few thousandths.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Dash?" you angrily mutter through chattering teeth.

>First you got soaked to the bone, now you were covered in snow.

>You can't suppress the shivering, the cold now seeping through the thin layer of clothes you were wearing.

>Was she trying to freeze you to death?

>Okay, you called her 'Rainbow Dyke' once when you had a little bit too much to drink but this seemed rather excessive.

>With the necessary struggle, you lift one foot out of the snow and set a step forward.

>You'd already come this far, you could just defrost in Sugarcube Corner with some hot cocoa.

>With a loud sucking noise and a lot of profanity from you, you manage to lift your other foot out of the snow.

"Fucking ponies."

>Another step is made.

"Fucking snow."

>And another.

"Fucking Rainbow Da―"

>You free your foot from the grasp of the snow once more and

 

>Hot.

>So very, very hot.

>The moment your foot finally came out of the snow, it simply melted away, disappearing in less than a second, only to be replaced by an incinerating heat.

>Standing on one leg, leaning all your weight forward to march through snow that no longer existed...

>The moment you realized you lost your balance, it was already far too late.

>Oh fair equilibrium, why hast thou forsaken us?

>In the last moments before the impact, you do what any man would do.

>Curse the first thing that comes to mind.

"Fucking fuck!"

>Face, meet pavement. Pavement, meet face.

>With a dull thud, you make its acquaintance.

>Usually, you'd just lay on the ground and enjoy the moment of numbness before the pain would strike.

>But this time, you found yourself unable to do so on the account of practically being burned alive.

>If somebody at any point in your life would ask you how a pie felt whilst being baked in an oven, you'd be able to offer a sufficient answer from here on out.

"Hot. So hot. Too hot!"

>You jump back to your feet, gingerly placing one hand on your face.

>You wince in pain at the touch but at least you don't seem to be bleeding.

"Fucking cyan pony," you grumble as you quickly run towards the centre of town.

>You'd barely run halfway through the street before you already found yourself soaked to the bone again, albeit this time in sweat.

>If you had to be out much longer in this weather, you'd be dehydrated.

>What the hell was going on with the weather today?

>As you finally reach your destination, the bakery now coming in sight, the heat stops and gets replaced with a gentle breeze.

 

>You immediately stop running and crouch down, covering your head with your arms.

>Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

>What was it going to be this time?

>Hurricane? Thunder storm? Hail?

>You sit there, cowering in the middle of the street, until something nudges you in the side.

>"You okay there, Anon?" a voice with a bit of a slur comes from your right.

>You gingerly peak open your eyes and see that weather had returned to its normal nature again.

>The sun shone and a soft breeze rolled through the streets as birds flew overhead.

"Uh... Yeah, I'm fine, Berry. Thanks."

>She shrugs and as she walks away, you can hear her mutter something under her breath. "What a retard..."

>But you give no bothers.

>You'd like to think that after the trials you conquered this morning, you deserved a proper breakfast.

>No donuts for you, today.

>No, today you would feast on a meal befitting a true king!

 

"Pancakes, Ponka! My entire kingdom for pancakes!" you shout as you burst through the door of Sugarcube Corner.

>"Oh... Uhm... I-I-I..." the voice behind the counter replied.

>Hmmm...

>That did not sound like the pink, hyperactive, reality-bending pony you knew.

>Let's see...

>Pink mane:

>Check.

>Pink coat:

>You hear a buzzer go off in the depths of your mind.

>Thank you for playing 'Who is that pony?’ Sadly, 'Ponka Peh' was not the correct answer. Sorry, try again next time!

 

"What are you doing here, Fluttershy?"

>"I'm... uhm... I'm w-w-working."

"And why exactly? Where's Pinkie?"

>"I-I don't know, b-but it's my destiny to make other people happy with treats and p-parties," she nervously stutters, barely looking at you.

"Yeah... No. That's more Pinkie's thing. You do the whole 'taking care of animals'-thing, you know?

>And they called you the retard.

>"N-No, it's what my cutie mark is telling me."

>She bends down and sticks her rear up in the air, wiggling it around so you can see the three balloons adorning it.

>What.

"What."

>You shake your head.

"You know what, never mind. You want to be Pinkie? Fine, be Pinkie. Go make me breakfast."

>"O-Of course, what would you l-like?"

"I'll take a Double Triple Barfy Deluxe on a raft, 4x4, animal-style, extra shingles with a shimmy and a squeeze, light axle grease, make it cry, burn it, and let it swim."

>"I-uhm... I-I-I..." she mutters, slowly sinking under the counter.

"Pancakes, Fluttershy. I want pancakes. With whipped cream and syrup. Geez, are you even trying?"

>"S-Sorry. P-Pancakes, I can do that! Maybe. I think..."

"And a cup of coffee. Black!" you yell after her as she retreats to the kitchen.

>You take a seat in one of the booths and simply shake your head.

>Today would be one of those days you regretted coming out of bed.

>You were already certain of that.

 

>A short while later, Fluttershy comes back out of the kitchen with... something.

>Something.

>But those were most definitely not pancakes.

>She sets the plate down in front of you and looks at you expectantly.

"Fluttershy, I asked for pancakes. Those are -not- pancakes," you point to the the concoction standing in front of you, "might I ask why you are not bringing me pancakes?"

>"Oh... Uhm... I burned them," she bashfully says, hiding behind her mane whilst doing so, "so I made you some oats. Try them, they're very healthy."

>Your eyes open wide and you hear the words echo through your mind 'Oats... very healthy... very healthy..."

>Faint images of war-scenery flash before your eyes.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you shout after snapping out of your little daydream.

>You wipe the plate of the table.

"What do you think I am? Some dude who lifts? I need sugar. Lethal amounts of sugar."

>You get up and walk towards the door.

"Either learn to make some pancakes or get Pinkie back in here. I want some decent breakfast tomorrow."

 

>Now you were certain that you regretted getting out of bed this morning.

>You'd been awake for almost two hours now and you still hadn't had breakfast.

>This was starting to make you a little grumpy.

>You'd just have to look elsewhere for breakfast.

>Guess you could always go bother AJ for some apples...

>And with that in mind, you begin to walk away from Ponyville Centre and towards Sweet Apple Acres.

>Your stomach rumbles loudly, voicing its lack of content.

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

>Luckily, the trip to the orchard only took a couple of minutes as you were running out of patience.

 

*THUD*

>Ah... AJ was already at work.

>Great, that means you could just quickly grab a couple of apples and go home to pretend today never existed.

*THUD*

>"Stupid."

*THUD*

>"Apples."

*THUD*

>"Why won't you..."

*THUD"

>"...fall already?"

>You walk towards the source of the noise to find Pinkie slumped against a tree, her mane having lost its volume entirely, instead hanging down in straight strands.

 

"Pinkie? Everything okay?"

>Her head jerks up to look at you.

>"Oh hey, Anon. These stupid apples won't come down."

>She kicks the tree again.

*THUD*

>One apple jiggles back and forth, but in the end decides he's perfectly fine hanging in the tree.

>Pinkie sighs, before looking at you with a small smile.

>"But I'll get 'em. Eventually..."

"Why weren't you at the bakery this morning, Pinks?"

>"Because I need to work in the orchard, Anon. It's what my cutie mark is telling me."

>A glance at her flank that maybe lasted slightly longer than it should have, confirms that the three signature balloons have become replaced by three shining red apples instead.

>You just shake your head.

"No."

>"Anon?"

"No, Pinkie. For once, I just want a normal day without crazy hi-jinks."

>You climb up the tree and pick two apples.

>As you jump back down on the ground, you grab a couple of bits from your pocket and throw them in Pinkie's bucket.

"There. Apples are paid. I'm going back to bed."

>And as you said, so you did.

 

>You went back home, ate your apples and crawled back in bed.

>Days like these were not for you.

>They had magic.

>They could sort this out themselves.