//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: After a Fashion // by DarkPhoenix //------------------------------// Chapter 1: Sitting in the study of his Upper Canterlot home, Fancy Pants sighed. Arrayed before him on his desk were numerous scrolls, each of them pertaining to some aspect of his business. While it was true that he could very easily retire and never work again, he enjoyed what he did—or at least—he used to. Now it was getting harder and harder for him to concentrate. Words and orders on the scrolls melded and blended, becoming incomprehensible gibberish. Everyday the stack of scrolls requiring his attention grew higher and higher as he took longer and longer to go through them. His assistant, a lovely little earth pony named Quick Time, had started badgering him, a worried look constantly on her face. His mind simply wasn’t in his work. Most ponies believed it was due to the recent—and highly public—split he had with Fleur de Lis, his longtime marefriend. But he barely ever  thought of her anymore. Once he had been a devoted gentle-stallion, always there for her, caring for her, and loving her. All that had changed. The troubles between the couple had started long ago. He had met somepony else, a pony he had originally dismissed. She had bumped into him on the streets of Canterlot, a slight he was more than willing to forgive. But then she had mentioned staying at the castle at the invitation of Princess Celestia herself. His interest piqued and knowing an opportunity when he saw one, he sought to make friends with her, since she was clearly interested in knowing him. After all, it wasn’t everyday that a pony who knew the Princess walked into his life. He had brought her—having learned her name was Rarity—along on several little adventures, trying to impress her. Yet quite the opposite had happened; she had managed to impress him. Even when he found out that she had been not-quite-lying to him, he didn’t care. Her beauty and grace were of another quality. The way she moved, the way she spoke... It was all so natural to her. Unlike Fleur and all the other ponies in Canterlot whose grace and beauty were artificial, her’s was different. The more he studied her throughout their meetings, the more he liked what he saw. Fleur had noticed his wandering attentions and tried to bring him back. She had been absolutely wonderful and crazy in bed, but he couldn’t help but hope it would be somepony else. When he had cried out Rarity’s name, instead of Fleur’s, one night, Fleur had left to go sleep in one of the guest rooms, calling him all sorts of vile names. The time had come when Rarity had to go back to her home in Ponyville. She had a business to run and her friends were all waiting for her. Fancy Pants found himself missing her as soon as the train pulled out of the station. Fleur had come along, her genial mood a mask after what had transpired between them the previous night. Later that night, back in his mansion, Fleur had confronted him. She had said that she would forgive his little dalliance and lust over “that common mud-dwelling unicorn,” but in return he had to make sure that she got top billing in her next modeling shows. If he didn’t then she would plaster the fact that he had yelled out Rarity’s name in bed in every tabloid in Equestria. Now to many ponies, that would have been when a couple’s relationship broke, never to be repaired. Relationships in Canterlot, especially between Upper Canterlot ponies, were different. Their relationships were built on convenience and opportunity just as much as, if not more than, love. Fleur saw him as a means to an end, and she took her opportunity when she could. He had agreed, as a scandal like that would cause his business to take a nasty hit. Perhaps now that Rarity had gone home, he could just forget about her and move on with his life. Return to how things were. That was not to be the case. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” was just an old saying, it had no real meaning to Fancy Pants. Until Rarity had left. For awhile things had been good, he and Fleur had continued to be the perfect couple, and now that she was getting top billing, her modeling career was at its peak. Yet his thoughts still returned to her, and the times they had spent in each other’s company, brief though it had been. It had all started when, a few weeks after she had left, his daily dose of newspapers arrived. He subscribed to most major publications in Equestria, the better to keep up with the major trends and important events. However, that was common practice. What he did that most others did not was that he also subscribed to a number of local papers for each of the various towns. That way he could also keep abreast of local trends and tailor his business to each market. Ponies often wondered as to the secret of his success, and that was a large part of it. So it was that, while browsing through the newspapers, he had picked up a copy of The Ponyville Press, a bi-weekly publication in Ponyville. Sipping his morning tea, he had proceeded to spew it all over the table when the front page showed a picture of a giant dragon holding Rarity captive. Tea dripping down his muzzle, he read the article, all about how a dragon had attacked Ponyville, captured Rarity, and then was driven off by the Elements of Harmony. The paper interviewed Rarity about her experience, along with a picture of her after the ordeal. Somehow, even after being attacked by a dragon—a dragon!—she still looked perfect. Not a hair was out of place in her mane or tail. Seeing her again, even just a picture, brought back everything he had tried to hide, all the feelings he had for her. He took the paper to his study, spilled tea forgotten.. There he had clipped it out, hanging it on the wall, the picture of Rarity right at the forefront. Thoughts of her entered his mind at random throughout the day. At night especially, with Fleur out late at a show, he pictured her clearly in his mind. Or as clear as he could based on the limited time together. Floating through his mind was her in various outfits, doing things like working, creating her outfits, cleaning her shop, out with her friends. No matter what he pictured, she was always the epitome of grace and beauty. During the next several days, thoughts of her constantly entered his mind. Usually he was able to shrug it off and work, but other times, he had trouble concentrating on anything but her. He tried to figure out exactly what made her so attractive, what kept him coming back to this rarity, but he couldn’t quantify it. She just was. And he just did. Fleur had come back and seen the article in his study. When she questioned him about it, he had quickly explained that a dragon attacking Ponyville had sparked an idea in him. The article was there to remind him. She had nodded and accepted the explanation. In order to prevent something like that from happening again, he had subtly manipulated the hanging, making it seem like the dragon was the focus, but instead all the differing elements making it up, when viewed from his chair, pointed unneringly towards Rarity. True to his word, he had designed and released a line of products in Ponyville with fire-resistant enchantments woven into them. The panic over the dragon attack was still high, so he had trouble keeping them on the shelves. The extra income was welcome, certainly, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted her, his Rarity. Weeks turned into months, and his longing for Rarity only increased. He had taken to tracking down and collectiing anything he could that mentioned her. A line of correspondence opened up between the two of them, mailing letters back and forth, something that had been a total shock to her when he had mailed her out of the blue. But he had to hear from her, somehow, and if he couldn’t hear from her directly, then indirectly via mail would have to suffice. They spoke of general things, how their businesses were going, their lives, etc. Never did he ever mention what he was feeling for her. To keep Fleur from finding his collection, he had hired a contractor when she was out for two weeks to Manehatten to section off part of his office, creating another room. He had also paid for not only a secret door, one which was invisible on the outside, but for the contractor’s silence as well. Inside his new room he had brought all of the things he had collected on Rarity and arranged them. The walls were soon plastered with newspaper clippings, pages torn out of books, her letters to him—anything he could find. He spent a good deal of time and money finding old newspapers that had her in them. He even found out where she had attended school and purchased copies of her old yearbooks, mounting those photos up there as well. The room was entirely dedicated to one pony: Rarity. His relationship with Fleur went downhill even quicker after that. She noticed his absent thoughts and tried to bring him back around. This time he was careful to not clue her into why, precisely, his mind wasn’t into it anymore. He cited work issues, though that excuse fell flat when his quarterly report came in and his business had grown by ten percent. Soon, he wasn’t even giving her excuses anymore. She was staying out late and coming home with random stallions sometimes, but he didn’t care. He knew that she was just trying to spite him, to get him to see what he was missing out on. The final straw in their relationship, if it could even be called that anymore, came when Fleur had found his secret room. He had entered his study, looking around to make sure that nopony was around. As soon as he was inside, the door securely closed, he saw her. She was standing in the room, her mouth hanging open as she looked around at everything. When the door closed, her gaze snapped to him, a fire in her eyes. “What is this?” she had asked, each word bitten off.. He floundered, unable to think of anything to say in his own defense. She would’ve found out sooner or later, he just wished it hadn’t been like this. He wanted to spare her from seeing this. Instead, his head sank lower until his eyes met the floor, unable to stand against her. She kicked open the door to the room, turning to leave while yelling and screaming as loud as she could, calling him worthless and pathetic and any other thing she could think of. Rather than leave, she had ignited her horn, papers, clippings, photos, all were ripped off the walls and tossed around. She had marched out of the room, still yelling. He had followed, his body simply moving along. Into their bedroom she had gone, her magic pulling out all of her stuff and packing it quickly into suitcases. Finally, she had stopped yelling and simply left. He had sat in the doorway to his mansion, watch her leave, her bags floating along in her magic behind her. When she was gone, he turned around, closed the door and made his way back up to the study. There he had quietly picked up everything she had tossed around, repairing as best he could the things that had been torn, and replacing everything back on the walls. The next day, news about the fight and break-up between him and Fleur was in the Canterlot papers. It seemed a papparazzi had been lurking around, hoping to catch a story. Thanks to Fleur’s loudness, and some open windows, he had gotten just that and more. Fleur had never yelled precisely why she was leaving him, so the article was full of rampant speculation. Other tabloids picked up the story and ran with it, adding their own twists to the rumors. Some called him out for cheating on Fleur, others said he was beating her, pointing to supposed marks on her body during a show. The only common thread was that he was being made out to be a monster and she the victim, which was probably why she never went to the tabloids herself to tell them the truth, as her career was getting a massive boost over this, while his business took a hit. Three days after the story first hit the papers, Fancy Pants was in a good mood, despite recent happenings. Last night, he had come to a realization: he was now free. Free to pursue Rarity. Already he was planning out the letter he was going to send her. There was a knock on the door, the mailpony saying it was her and not another reporter. He opened it, gathering his mail with a smile and a thanks. Most of it was junk, but there was also a letter from Rarity. He tore open the envelope, pulling out the paper. After the standard greetings between them, she wrote something which tore his heart out of his chest and stomped on it. Fancy Pants, oh, I don’t know how to say this, so I shall just come right out and say it: As you know, I’ve been seeing this wonderful gentle-stallion and just last night he asked for my hoof in marriage! Once I got over the shock, I said yes. Can you believe it? I, Rarity, am going to be getting married! He read through that last line again, just to make sure he didn’t misread it. ...asked for my hoof in marriage! ...hoof in marriage! ...marriage! ...I said yes. ...yes. He dropped the letter, not even bothering to read the rest of it. Another, smaller piece of paper fell out, but he ignored that too. Rarity. Was getting married. He had known she was dating somepony; she had shared as much in her letters. But he didn’t know they were that close. Now his beloved Rarity, the mare that encompassed his every waking thought, was getting married to another pony. His brain stopped, shutting down. He couldn’t think about anything other than what he had just read. The words, written in her usual loopy handwriting, were plastered in his vision. When his eyes were open, he could see them, floating, dancing around in front of him, taunting him. With his eyes closed, they just became all the more prominent. He felt sick and rushed into the bathroom. Hovering over the toilet, his stomach emptied itself of his breakfast. The sour taste of oatmeal and bile filled his mouth as he heaved. When there was nothing left but dry-heaves, he lay his head on the seat, uncaring about anything. What was the point? Without Rarity in his life, there wasn’t one. His life had lost all meaning with one simple phrase written on a piece of paper. Another knock on the door garnered his attention. A female voice came through the door, faintly. It was a courier with an urgent delivery for him from a Rarity. The mention of her name brought him back. He sat up, looking at himself in the mirror. His mane was a mess, his breath stank of vomit, and he looked terrible. He stuck his head out of the bathroom, yelling out so the courier could hear him, asking her to wait in the foyer. Quickly he splashed some water on his face and gargled mouthwash. It was crude but effective, and it only had to last until the courier left. He arrived in the foyer looking much like he always did: composed and professional. The courier, a pegasus, was admiring one of his paintings. She looked up at his hoofsteps. The process of handing over the package was quick and painless; he simply signed for it and she went on her way. The package itself was small and light. Glancing at the label, he noticed she had paid quite well to get this to him as quickly as possible. So he wondered what it could be. He tore it open, finding a hastily written letter. Fancy Pants, I have just received the news about what happened between you and Fleur. You have my deepest condolences. Fear not, for I know those tabloids are printing nothing but lies about you. You are a wonderful stallion. In truth, before I heard the news, I’m afraid I sent you a letter which, in light of recent events, may be received as insensitive. I do so hope this package reaches you before the letter so that I can explain to you that I sent that letter prior to knowing what transpired between you and Fleur. Please, don’t think any less of me. On the off chance that I do offend you, please accept my deepest apologies. To make it up to you, should you ever need to get away from Canterlot in these trying times, know that you are very welcome to stay with me at Carousel Boutique. It may not be the fanciest, but you shouldn’t be bothered here by any media. Ponyville is a small town and they won’t think to look for you here. Once more, you have my condolences. Rarity He wasn’t sure what he had been hoping was in the package, but this wasn’t it. Maybe he had wanted to hear from her how her stallion had cheated on her and they had broken up, calling off the wedding. That would be the best possible news. Instead, all he got was an apology letter and an open invitation to visit her. If he had gotten this letter first, he would probably already be on his way to Ponyville, thoughts of making Rarity his consuming him. He took the letter back into the kitchen, where her first letter still sat on the floor. Idly, looking for something, anything, to do, he picked it up, setting it on the table. The little scrap of paper caught his eye. Picking it up, he realized it was a photo. Rarity occasionally sent photos along, mostly of her designs, asking his opinion on them. Though occasionally she sent one of herself, often with her friends. This one showed her standing with another pony, a little filly. The two of them were proudly holding up silver medals. Rarity was covered in mud, straw, dirt, and other detritus, but she was still smiling happily. Curious, he picked up her letter again to see if there was an explanation for her usual self actually being happy at getting that dirty. Skipping over what he had already read, and not wanting to read it again, he read on. She mentioned several other things, mostly inconsequential. Towards the end, she spoke about an event her friend Applejack had put on, the Sisterhooves Social. She related how she had fought with her own sister, Sweetie Belle, but how she had tricked her and together they had placed second in the race. Despite his mood, he couldn’t help but smile at the way she described the race and everything she had to do. It was no wonder she was so dirty in the end. He glanced again at the picture. She had mentioned her sister before, but he’d never seen a picture of her. It wasn’t the best photo, but he could see where they were related. Sweetie had the same white coat as Rarity, and her mane looked like it had much the same quality that Rarity’s did. Squinting, he glanced even closer, trying to pick out the similarities between them. They had roughly the same build, though Sweetie was, of course, smaller. The more he looked, the more and more similar they seemed. It was almost as if Sweetie Belle was a miniature Rarity. He tried to imagine that in his head. Bringing up Sweetie Belle in his mind, he replaced her mane with Rarity’s, added some eye shadow, and made the look on her face a rather sultry one. The resemblance to the pictures of Rarity as a little filly he had dug up were startling. His original thought of the filly being simply her older sister in miniature were closer than even he thought possible. No sooner had he thought that, than his brain latched onto it. Sweetie Belle was Rarity. Rarity was Sweetie Belle. They were the same. Gasping, he raced out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into his study. Throwing open the door to his secret room, he rushed inside. There, he pulled down every single picture he had of Rarity, stacking them up on the floor. Giving each one a quick glance, he sorted them into two piles, one of them much larger than the other. As soon as he was done, the larger pile was tossed out the door, photos scattering all over his office. He pulled the smaller pile closer, looking at each one in depth. There, hidden somewhere in each picture was Sweetie Belle. She was always in the background or off to one side; he found her mostly in group shots, but she was there. Usually she was playing with two other foals or sitting off to the side. All of these were pictures he had tracked down from other sources, newspapers and the like. The focus of each shot was usually one of the Elements, or them as a whole, though each one had a common thread: Sweetie Belle. Seeing her in all these shots where only Rarity had stood out to him, he studied her. Even when she was sitting still, or playing with her friends, she showed the same grace and beauty that Rarity did. True, it was unrefined, but it was there. It was natural, just like Rarity’s. And just like Rarity, Sweetie Belle was beautiful. He arrayed the photos in front of him, arranging them so that wherever Sweetie was, she was the focus. Gazing at them, he felt a thought enter his mind. Rarity was gone, she had given her heart to somepony else. But there was another, another Rarity. This one was ripe for the taking, could be molded into whatever he chose. He could still have his Rarity. For the first time since this morning, a smile crept its way onto his face. Yes, that was perfect. He could still have Rarity, he would just have to work for it. He didn’t mind, though. Leaving the photos sitting on the floor, he left the room, closing the door behind him. Numerous photos covered his office from where he had thrown them. He collected them, then shoved them into the closet, his disinterest clear. First things first, he had a letter to write. Grabbing a quill, ink, and a fresh scroll, he sat at his desk. Rarity, Thank you for your kind letter regarding recent events. Your words, as always, are much appreciated. I, unfortunately, did receive your letter regarding your own happy announcement first, though the package arrived soon after. Congratulations on your engagement! And fear not, for your words were not received with ill intent. Things had been going poorly between Fleur and I for awhile now, what happened was inevitable. I have gotten over it, even if those cursed media ponies have not. You are right, and I do need some time away from Canterlot. It is with that in mind that I would like to accept your offer to stay at Carousel Boutique. I will be sending this via courier today, making sure it arrives tomorrow. By the time you are reading this, I should already be on my way. No sense in delaying, after all. Thank you for your generous offer. Fancy Pants He double-checked the letter, making sure everything was in order, before casting a quick spell that dried the ink, then rolled it up and sealed it. He would have to leave his mansion in order to get to a courier’s office, but it was worth it. Leaving his study behind, he headed to his bedroom. Quickly and efficiently, he managed to make himself look presentable for a public appearance. His usual jacket, tie, and monocle in place, he took the scroll and left. Walking through the streets of Upper Canterlot was always a bit uncomfortable to him. Most ponies knew who he was, so he received stares. Today, ponies were staring, only differently. This was his first time in public since Fleur had left, and because of the rumors, all the ponies’ stares were full of either scorn or pity. He ignored them and the hushed whispers that greeted his passing, his mind focused on the task at hand. The courier’s office was only a few blocks away. Entering the office, he found a bored looking stallion working the counter. At the sound of the bell over the door, the stallion looked up, then did a double-take. “Mr. Fancy Pants, what brings you here?” the stallion greeted. He presented the letter to the stallion. “I need this sent to Rarity in Ponyville. Get it there by early morning tomorrow.” The stallion’s jaw dropped. “But, sir, in order to get it there in that time, one of our pegasi would have to fly through the night. I’m afraid that—”         Fancy Pants dropped a bag of bits onto the counter, the purse opening and spilled the golden coins out. Upon seeing just how many coins were in there, the stallion’s eyes matched his jaw. “I assume this is enough?” The stallion nodded. “Yes, I think it is.” He turned and called over his shoulder. “Wind Whistler, get in here.” A pegasus mare came into the room; Fancy Pants recognized her as the same one who brought him his package this morning. “Yeah, what is it?” she asked. Her eyes caught sight of Fancy Pants, then slowly moved to the large pile of bits on the counter. Excitement flashed across her face. The stallion handed the scroll to the mare. “Take this to Ponyville. Make sure it gets to Rarity by early morning.” Wind glanced at the letter, then at Fancy Pants, then at the pile of coins. Fancy Pants could sense that even with that amount of money, she was hesitant. “Wind Whistler, is it?” he asked. When she nodded, he pulled out another bag of bits, this one smaller than the first one, but still considerable. He tossed it to her. Her reflexes kicked in and she caught it with a wing. “Consider that a tip for services rendered. Promptly.” Her eyes floated back and forth between the bags of coins, her mind working. Fancy knew that she was adding things up. Between the two bags, there was probably more money on the counter than she would make as a courier in a year. Without a word, she went into the back of the store, reappearing a moment later wearing a pair of saddlebags. She tucked the scroll into the bags. “I’ll get it there, sir,” she said. Right before she was going to leave, a tug with Fancy’s magic stopped her. Pulling out two more, even smaller bags, he tossed one to each pony. “What’s this for?” she asked. Fixing them each with a harsh glare, feeling them wilt under it, Fancy spoke. “Your silence.” With shaky nods at him, both ponies acknowledged. “Yes, sir!” they said. Fancy nodded at them both. The mare took this as her signal. Returning his nod, she stepped out of the office. Flaring her wings, she took off into the sky “Will that be all?” the stallion asked. Fancy shook his head. “No, thank you.” He left the office, heading back home. Now that the letter had been sent, he felt joyous. His plan was being put into action. Arriving home with a spring in his step, he headed into the bedroom. Within a matter of minutes, he had his bags packed for an extended stay in Ponyville. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he knew it was too late to grab a train. The last one would leave the station in five minutes, and not even he could hold it long enough for him to get there. That didn’t matter though, he still needed to allow the letter time to arrive. He would just have to take the first train out in the morning; that would put him in Ponyville around dinnertime, plenty of time for Rarity to prepare for his arrival. He lay in bed, grabbing the book he was in the middle of off of his nightstand. Flipping through it to find his place, he tried to pass the time. It was far too early to sleep—not that he was certain he could tonight anyway. Anxiety filled him at was was to come. Soon, soon he would be in Ponyville, where his dream of finally having Rarity would come true. After a fashion.