Golden Feather


                                            I wrote a prompt in /sun/ a while back: https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/38689001/#q38704830

                                            Figured it's time to flesh it out. Enjoy.


                                            >"Anon, I..."

                                            >The mare stops in her tracks.

                                            >"I'm not so sure this is a good idea."

                                            >It's bad enough that these tights are riding straight up your asscrack, but for your accomplice to drop this confession on you now- minutes before setting your boldest plan to date in motion?

                                            "What!? You're not getting cold hooves now, are ya?"

                                            >"Well..."

                                            "C'mon, Lyra. A deal's a deal, and I went above and beyond the call of duty fulfilling my end of the agreement."

                                            >"I know you did, but-"

                                            "But nothing! Did you know it took a week for me to get the feeling back in my fingers? And don't even get me started on the smell!"

                                            >Lyra's ears flatten as her face goes from minty green to tomato.

                                            >"I said I was sorry!" she whines, turning away.

                                            >Let it go, Anon.

                                            >She's still embarrassed over the ordeal- berating her isn't going to help anything.

                                            "Hey..."

                                            >Her ears twitch, but she doesn't turn back around.

                                            >Sighing, you drop to your knees and pull her into your chest.

                                            "I'm sorry too."

                                            >She wiggles in your grasp until her forelegs wrap around your torso.

                                            >"We really miss you, Anon."

                                            "'We'?"

                                            >Lyra giggles. "Fine. *I* really miss you. Bon Bon..."

                                            "Do I really want to know?"

                                            >"Eh..."

                                            "That's a 'no'."

                                            >More giggles from your pal.

                                            "Are you ready?"

                                            >Her magic summons a lyre from her saddle bags.

                                            >"Mmmhmm! All tuned up and ready to go!"

                                            "Great!" You check your watch. "Hmmm, we're a bit ahead of schedule. Tell you what- the gardens are on the way to the throne room. Let's do one last run-through over there before we head in for the real deal, 'kay?"

                                            >Lyra hums, strumming on her lyre as you lead her to a koi pond in an unoccupied corner of the gardens.

                                            >Together, you go through your act, hoping to iron out any last-minute wrinkles that you might have missed before.

                                            >"That sounded pretty good, Anon!"

                                            "Yeah, it did. The timing was really tight too."

                                            >There's a lump in your stomach, as if Lyra's apprehension transferred to you.

                                            >It's probably your imagination, but the bells on your costume seem to jingle a little louder than before as you walk over to the pond.

                                            >You stand at the edge and gaze down to inspect your reflection in its mirror-like surface.

                                            "God, I look like such a fag..."

                                            >"What's that?"

                                            "Nothing! Nothing. C'mon, I've got a sunhorse to woo!"


                                            -----


                                            >Sitting upon your throne, you whisper to the mare standing to your right.

                                            "Do you have any plans for this weekend, Raven?"

                                            >Your assistant shakes her head as she sorts her notes from today's court session. "After this week, all I want to do is lay low at home. It's scheduled to rain all weekend anyway, so I might as well stay in and be cozy."

                                            "I know what you mean." You take a sip of your tea and close your eyes. "Was that the last appointment for the day?"

                                            >"No, there's one more petitioner scheduled to- Oh." Raven shakes her head. "Oh no..."

                                            "What's wrong?"

                                            >The court herald's booming voice answers the question for her.

                                            >"The court now recognizes Anonymous the Human!"

                                            >With that announcement, the ponies still in attendance begin whispering among themselves.

                                            >Music joins the buzzing of hushed conversations.

                                            >"That's not Anon," Raven murmurs as a green unicorn mare trots towards the dais, a lyre suspended in her golden aura.

                                            >Raven turns to you, frowning.

                                            >"Princess, you don't have to sit through this. I can deal with him."

                                            >True, but curiosity compels you to stay.

                                            'I wonder what he'll try this time.'

                                            >The green mare stops some five meters from the dais steps, though she continues to play.

                                            >It's an energetic solo from some classical piece whose name escapes you at the moment.

                                            >Even Raven appears to relax, if only a little bit, by the time the performance winds down.

                                            >The little green mare surprises you by switching keys and time signatures, transitioning from a charming, flowing melody to something syncopated, something... primal.

                                            >Costume bells join the interlude, and that's when you see him- your castle's resident human- dressed as a jester and strutting straight towards you.

                                            >"How are we doing today, Canterlot?" his booming voice echoes through the massive hall.

                                            >His counterpart begins to add in grunts and a variety of other rhythmic, mouth-generated noises to her lyre's new eight-note melody... what do the foals call it?

                                            >Beatboxing- that's the term.

                                            >It's rather catchy, making you want to dance... or at least sway to the beat.

                                            >Not that you would.

                                            >You must maintain appearances and all that.

                                            >Unfortunately.

                                            >Anon stops a pace short of the dais and bows.

                                            >"Princess."

                                            "Hello there, Mister Anonymous. What brings you to court today?"

                                            >Anon rises from his bow, prompting his companion to play and beatbox a bit louder.

                                            >"Your Highness, I come to you today with a request. Well, three requests, technically..."

                                            >Raven looks to you once more to shake her head and mouth the words, "It's not too late to say no."

                                            >Sorry, Raven.

                                            >You've had to turn the persistent alien stallion down multiple times, the least you can do is humor his requests, even if he's only trying to ask you out... again.

                                            >It feels nice to be openly pursued- nopony else in your realm would be so bold.

                                            >All the same, you can't help but feel sorry for Anon every time you have to let him down gently.

                                            "Very well, Anon. What can I do for you?"

                                            >Anon smirks. "I'm glad you asked..."

                                            >He begins to dance.

                                            >Well, he attempts to.

                                            >It's more like a full-body dry heave that's out of sync with the music.

                                            >Raven's jaw drops. "Sweet fancy Starswirl!"

                                            >Anon dances away from you for a few *very* awkward measures, his little accomplice growing ever redder in the face as she beatboxes and plays louder.

                                            >He spins around and locks eyes with you.

                                            >To your shock, his hungry stare elicits the briefest tingle in your stomach.

                                            >That tingle turns to cold dread when Anon starts to scream.

                                            >"SHAKE YA ASS! BUT WATCH YO-SELF! SHAKE YA ASS! SHOW-ME-WHAT-YOU'RE-WORKING-WITH!"

                                            >Your composure falters for the first time in centuries, and you watch on with a slack-jawed expression similar to the ones your assistant and the ponies assembled in the throne room wear.

                                            >"SHAKE YA ASS! BUT WATCH YO-SELF! SHAKE YA ASS!"

                                            >Raven snaps out of her stupor first and motions for the guards.

                                            >To his credit, Anon shows admirable agility as he dodges the first soldier and continues his performance.

                                            >"I came here with my dick in my hand!"

                                            >He side-steps another guard.

                                            >"Don't make me leave here with my foot in yo' ass, be cool!"

                                            >Another guard lunges at, and misses, the jumping human jester who unleashes his intense stare upon you again.

                                            >"And don't worry bout how I'm rippin' this shit..." He places his hands behind his head and thrusts his hips at you. "When I'm flippin' what I'm kickin' nigga, that's just what I- *OOF!*"

                                            >A swift kick in the gut from one of your guards doubles the human over.

                                            >The little unicorn mare drops her lyre. "Anon!"

                                            >Unicorn guards secure both her and the human in their magical auras and carry them out.

                                            >As they gallop through the throne room doors, you hear Anon's indignant shout, "What the FUCK, Bent Spear!? I thought we were bros!"

                                            "Oh, Anon..." you murmur, shaking your head.

                                            >Raven informs the remaining audience that court has concluded.

                                            >They shuffle out until it's just you and Raven left in the cavernous hall.

                                            >"I'm sorry about that, Princess."

                                            >You rise and make your way down the dais steps.

                                            "Don't be."

                                            >Something in your peripheral vision makes you stop in your tracks.

                                            >With her vision partially-obscured by the stack of scrolls she levitates, Raven walks straight into your hindquarters.

                                            >"Oh! I'm *so* sorry Your Highness!"

                                            >Her apologies register in your mind, but it's the golden lyre laying forgotten on the crimson carpet that captures your attention.

                                            >It floats to eye level under your magic's influence, ringing out a few clear notes in response to your curious magical plucking.

                                            >"Oh," Raven says, "She forgot her instrument."

                                            "It seems she did..." you whisper, still plucking at the strings as if playing the correct combination of notes would reveal some divine secret.

                                            >You play a few more notes.

                                            "That really was something else, wasn't it, Raven?"

                                            >"Anonymous has no shame, Princess."

                                            "It appears that way," you say after a short chuckle.

                                            >"May I ask you something, Your Highness?"

                                            "Of course."

                                            >Raven sighs. "Why do you tolerate Anon's antics?"

                                            "I..."

                                            >You frown.

                                            >An apt question indeed- one you're not prepared to answer.

                                            >Not aloud, at least.


                                            -----


                                            >"I do not think this is a good idea, Sister."

                                            "Thank you, Luna. Would you like to repeat yourself a fourth time?"

                                            >Luna huffs and shakes her head.

                                            >She pivots away from your bed, towards Philomena's perch.

                                            >Luna extends her left wing to the phoenix, who accepts your sister's invitation, forsaking her gilded perch for a blue, feathery one.

                                            >They share a brief nuzzle before *your* bird whispers in Luna's ear.

                                            >"Philomena agrees with me." Luna says with a nod. "This will not end well."

                                            "Oh, would you relax? You're acting like I'm going to abdicate the throne!"

                                            >"No, Celestia, I will not relax!" Philomena flutters to her perch when Luna stomps her way towards you. "I do not agree with this... deception! No matter how 'well-intentioned' you *think* you are, there will be unintended consequences!"

                                            >Standing before your mirror, you adjust your braid and amulet with your wings.

                                            >Even if your time in this disguise will be short-lived, this lower vantage point will take some getting used to, though not as much as your voice.

                                            "Anything else you'd care to lecture me on, Mother?"

                                            >Luna scoffs.

                                            >You spin towards your now-taller sister and strike a pose.

                                            "Well? How do I look?"


                                            -----


                                            >Of all the outcomes you tried to account for when you war-gamed your latest wooing attempt, the possibility of being roughed up in court and literally thrown in a dungeon was not one you considered.

                                            >Why the hell do these adorable little ponies even have a dungeon?

                                            >Celestia doesn't strike you as the lock-the-door-and-throw-away-the-key type.

                                            >Yeah, you probably pushed the envelope a bit too much this time, but that's one of the things you loved about that big sunhorse- she took it all in graceful stride; faint smiles.

                                            >She knows how you feel, just not why.

                                            >Perhaps you could've saved yourself some trouble if you'd just been forthright from the start.

                                            >Alas, your name is Anonymous, and therefore you're something of a reh-tard.

                                            >Bad as this scheme backfired, the unintended consequences have left you with a lead weight of guilt in your gut.

                                            >To her credit, Lyra seems to be taking her incarceration rather well- tapping on the cell bars with her hoof and humming cheerful melodies.

                                            "Hey Lyra."

                                            >The mint-hued mare stops her humming to look back at you.

                                            >"What's up?"

                                            "Listen... I'm really sorry about all this."

                                            >"Psh!" Lyra waves a hoof at you whilst rolling her eyes. "You don't have to keep apologizing, you know."

                                            "But you're literally in pony jail. Because of me."

                                            >Lyra touches a hoof to her chin and furrows her brow. "Hmmm..."

                                            >She's not much of an actress, but you appreciate the effort.

                                            >"...buuuuuuuut..."

                                            "But what?"

                                            >"I've got to be the first pony that's been thrown in the castle dungeon in ages! And I got to perform for Princess Celestia herself! How cool is that?"

                                            "I-" you begin, only to cut yourself off by raising a finger.

                                            >With a chuckle, you shake your head, unable to ward off the grin that's taken root on your face.

                                            "That's what I love about you, Lyra. You're always seeing the silver lining."

                                            >Lyra shrugs. "Better than focusing on the bad."

                                            >She's got a point.

                                            >"You're bad about that."

                                            "Huh?"

                                            >Lyra joins you on the wooden bench- the only piece of furniture the cell has to offer besides two bare wood-frame cots.

                                            >"I said you focus too much on the bad in situations."

                                            "I do not!"

                                            >"Do too~"

                                            "I'm a realist."

                                            >"If by 'realist', you mean 'pessimist', then sure."

                                            >You huff.

                                            >"Bon Bon would agree with me if she were here."

                                            "Ha! Bon Bon has always had it out for me."

                                            >"She does not! She likes you!"

                                            "She's got a funny way of showing it."

                                            >"That's just how she is! You know that."

                                            "Yeah, yeah, yeah," you murmur. "She totally doesn't see me as a threat to her muff-diving fantasies..."

                                            >"What was that?"

                                            "Nothing! Nothing!"

                                            >Lyra shoots you a squint, which you fire back without hesitation.

                                            >She counters by crossing her eyes and blowing a raspberry, which makes you chortle, almost by reflex.

                                            >Damn it.

                                            >Lost again.

                                            >The girl may be a ditz at times, but you couldn't ask for a better friend.

                                            >Content with her victory, Lyra hops down from the bench and returns to the row of crystal bars that stand some six meters opposite you.

                                            >She strides away with exaggerated steps, head held high, eyes closed; undoubtedly replaying her moment of triumph in her mind's eye.

                                            "Hey, watch yourself."

                                            >"What was that?" Lyra half-shouts. "I can't hear you over the sound of how-"

                                            >*BONG*

                                            >"OOF!"

                                            >Lyra, now sitting on her haunches, rubs her head. "I meant to do that."

                                            >Mutual laughter.

                                            >"Stupid bars." Lyra says, charging her horn.

                                            >She releases a small tangerine-sized ball of raw magic at the nearest bar, which vibrates with a distinct, clear frequency upon being struck; not unlike a xylophone.

                                            >You look at Lyra, who returns your flabbergasted stare.

                                            >"Cool!"

                                            >Lyra fires another ball of magic at another bar and the reaction repeats, albeit emitting a different note.

                                            >The mare giggles, then sets to striking every bar in the cell with her crude magical mallet.

                                            >Ten minutes pass with way, with Lyra progressing from generating random notes to composing simple melodies.

                                            >"Hey Anon~" Lyra smirks at you.

                                            "What's up?"

                                            >Lyra begins to play a new melody; something vaguely familiar.

                                            >Suddenly she stops playing her impromptu xylophone, opting to sing acapella.

                                            >"Doo ba do WAH! Do ba do WAH! WAH!"

                                            >Oh no.

                                            >Oh no she isn't.

                                            >Lyra drops her pitch an octave.

                                            >"Doo ba do WAH! Do ba do WAH! WAH!"

                                            >She absolutely is.

                                            >Your number-one pal continues, doing her best double bass impression to lead into the first verse.

                                            >Oh what the hell.

                                            >You stand and take a deep breath.

                                            "Hey baby, I hear the blues a-callin, tossed sal-ads and scrambled eggs..."


                                            -----


                                            >A tingling sensation pulses up your legs, making the fur atop your spine stand on end.

                                            >Really, Celestia, are you seriously allowing these unexpected jitters to compromise your signature serene exterior?

                                            >Thank goodness nopony recognizes you, flustered as you are.

                                            >Not that the lay pony could tell with a cursory glance that "Golden Feather" is nervous, but your highly-developed self-awareness may be doing more harm than good.

                                            >The staff and guards alike do little more than give you faint smiles or short nods to acknowledge your presence.

                                            >Luna's words echo in your mind as you make your way across the castle.

                                            >You scoff, dismissing her concerns whilst adopting a more confident stride... but not *too* confident.

                                            >'She's right', a nagging voice insists from some dark corner of your mind.

                                            >Perhaps she would be, if you carried on this charade longer than necessary, but that's not the plan.

                                            >While you feel bad about the deception, casting off your iconic appearance in favor of a more "common" facade should provide you the opportunity to quickly and efficiently identify your resident human's motivations.

                                            >Sure, countless suitors had sought your hoof throughout the centuries, but you rejected them all.

                                            >Most took your rejection in stride, though there were a few stallions who took exception to your disinterest.

                                            >But then there was Anonymous, an anomaly in every sense of the word.

                                            >Are all humans as tenacious as he?

                                            >You're about to find out.

                                            >When was the last time you visited the dungeons?

                                            >A century ago, perhaps?

                                            >Nevertheless, you still know the way.

                                            >One last left turn, and there it stands - the cell block entrance - an unremarkable, tan stone hallway in all its torch-lit glory.

                                            >A lone unicorn stands between you and the dark arched hallway.

                                            >"Halt."

                                            >Indignation bubbles within, however brief.

                                            >It's going to take time getting used to being a different mare; on the outside at least.

                                            >"State your business."

                                            "I'm here to release Anonymous the human," you say as you produce a scroll from under your wing. "Princess Celestia's orders."

                                            >The guard studies the scroll and nods.

                                            >"Follow me."

                                            >Several paces in, your ears twitch at two muffled voices emanating from the deeper in the hall.

                                            "Excuse me, Sergeant, is that music I'm hearing?"

                                            >"Yup. They started singing a minute or two before you arrived."

                                            >Goodness, your guards arrested his companion too?

                                            >Your guards neglected to report that particular detail.

                                            >Their lyrics become intelligible after another thirty meters of walking.

                                            >"Hey baby I hear the blues a-callin' tossed sal-ads and scrambled eggs..."

                                            >That's Anon alright.

                                            >"...and maybe I seem a bit confused, yeah maybe, but I've got you pegged. Ha! Ha ha haaaa!"

                                            >At least he seems to be in good spirits, all things considered.

                                            >"But I don't know what to do with those tossed salads and scrambled eggs... they're callin' again."

                                            >Finally, your tall prisoner comes into view, still clad in his jester costume, sans hat.

                                            >He and his companion remain oblivious to your arrival.

                                            >"They're callin' again. Scrambled eggs all over my face!"

                                            >The unicorn answers, "They're making me ya-ya... tossed salads and scrambled eggs."

                                            >Anon continues, "They're callin' again," before jumping to his feet and yelling, "Goodnight, Canterlot, we love you!"

                                            >You clear your throat.

                                            >Both prisoners wheel around to face you, their cheeks reddening with every passing second.