Bread and Circuses

by Monsieur Bleu

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Twilight Sparkle, Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Princess Luna, Derpy Hooves, Princess Celestia
Length: 2955

In an alternate, more British, Equestria, there is a great political upheaval—a new, populist, movement takes hold and tries to govern a changing nation. This story is written in an experimental, disjointed style, and may be a challenging read

After more than a century of politics dominated by conservative nobility, the Co-Principality of Equestria is undergoing a rapid transformation. New, more progressive, voices emerge and a new political elite comes into existence. This transcendence culminates with the Ascension of Princess Twilight. Meanwhile, Derpy, a widow and mother, finds herself thrust into this new body politic.

This story is written in a quasi-experimental style; the plot is very disjointed and at times hard to follow, so it may be a challenging read. Also, alternative spellings and word choice are intentional. Still, advice and critiques are more than welcome.

Story image is copyright of the House of Lords, use permitted with justification and with reason as to why it is irreplaceable with similar copyright free images. Justification for use: one of the purposes of this story is to parody British society and parliamentary politics in particular. This image is used to reference the opulence of some aspects of British politics. Image is irreplaceable: the House of Lords does not allow strangers to take photos of their chamber.

Published 2013-09-13 23:50:03 UTC
Last updated 2013-10-14 04:32:18 UTC

By the Grace of Providence

By the Grace of Providence

There was a crack in space, light flooded in. A force hopped up-on the bed.

"It’s park day, Mum!" she beamed.

Eyes groggy and lips pursed smile, "go downstairs meh’Muf, I’ll make somethin’ for ye."

The little fil jumped off and skidded across to the steppes. The mare tossed her covers and started down.

"Mums," a voice echoed from the door. She looked over the rail to spy.

"Spark! on’ta Celeste, wha’re you doin’ere?"

"Wha? I can’t see me own mum?"

Ditz descended and kissed her eldest; "go sit down, I was just about to make Dink a-spot-a-toast."

She made her way to the wash. At the sink she splashed eau in her face. She paused for a moment, and glanced up; she was a mess of a mare. After drying off, she made into the kitchen where her eldest and her recent sat at the small wooden table, chatting about the happenings at school.

"So how’s been the goings-on in the capital?" she queried as she set a kettle for tea on the range.

"It’s gettin’ tense, a bit excitin’even."

"Election’s not too far away is’t?"

"Aye, th’whole campus is buzzin’—folks ye'read about in the paper are now in the flesh. The Union’s overrun with booths, people out everywhere with signs," with her forehooves she gestured a grand arch.

Dinky clapped and Derpy couldn't help but smile as she put a halfstick of butter and a-pinch salt into a pan. She made towards the icebox and got out a bottle of milk. As she poured Dink a glass, the kettle whistled; Ditz emptied it into a teapot, she added black and peppermint leaves. Setting the teapot on the table, she returned to the now popping pan on the stovetop. She took out six pieces of bread and laid them, as soft-en-quick as she could, into the steaming butter.

"Speakin’bout politics, I asked the Economics Lecturer about virtues."

"An’what e’say? Derpy said as she spun the toast."

"Said how the older generations pretend to hav’em—but don’t."

"Sounds right; the family ahead of me were so caught-up trying to undo the good done. Seems we spend the best of our years trying to fix their mess."

~*~

"For-a-ways from blotto, Purse! Get up!" shouted the greying MP as she tried to get standing the Chancellor.

"Don’t count it as your bloody fuckin’ hooves place to make me stand up!" She stumbled, managing to get a grip on the table.

"Faust nailed to a tree—what the hell’s goin’on ‘ere?"

"Sorry Gov’na... Jack’ere just’ad a few too many."

"Tha’ fuckin’ hell Jackie?"

" 'At fucka’ of a Princess ‘ed she’s gonna lead un out-rigth revol’ if I add the land provisions to the manifest’a!"

"Ditz, she say that?"

"Certainly implied it."

"Fuck… " the pegasus sighed " 'right, I’ll talk to’er, see if we can’t this resolved. Get the Purse home and make sure she gets some eau in’er."

The Premier shook her chromatic head and left.

"Com’on Jackie, let’s get you home."

~*~

The air wisped about fescue grass under a light grey overcast. A young fil led her mum and sis into the park. Whilst joyfully bouncing along, the fil saw worthy to point out the merits of all the leaves the twirled about them.

"Been five years mum."

"Aye," with one eye she looked towards the heavens, "all lives pass."

"Shame really," said Spark looking at her sister, still oblivious – she’ll never know’im."

"But she is’im," the pegasus kissed her on the cheek, "as are you."

~*~

"Percussion for mine weary eyes! – Dreaming about good times only to be interrupted by you!"

"Beggings pardon, ma’am’s mais le government vous oblige!"

"C’est vous désirez—informez le Primer: piss off!"

"Right then, your Grace."

Porter bowed out and open this whole lot! "I swear if it were half as tolerable, I’d find myself lucky. Stretching out in respite—o what I need! For greys this swooning!"

"Counting weary stars again Rare?"

"I want to so to discount you right now, but Celeste knows that wench!"

"Speak ill of the Premier?"

"Only be-cause she could not get ahold-a you."

"Aughe! I told’er I’d-be there tomorrow—worse than I—can’t keep Jackie off the fritz."

"I should say not!"

"O by the grace of providence let these petty doldrums pass!"

"Eh! T’is not so weary. Princess, for yourself it is the longest."

"Funny," and with a wink Twilight walked out past.

~*~

Under the deep ceylon heavens, in a gilded balcony, lay upon to rest: hope, fools hope.

"He was fool then!"

"He was a great stallion!"

"What’d’e ever do—nothing! All of that money, all of those things we did not have, for folly! He was the one made his own demise. He fritted away all of the support he was ever given!"

"By providence! You are lost beyond repentance!"

"Well, sister, you grew naive in exile."

"No! Sister, you grew cynical—the grandest form of naiveté."

"If she could then what, share his fate… hmm? … Wandering the back-halls of the palace like some forlorn specter, lamenting her place in universe—and history!"

"He achieved," she whispered looking out at her stars, "he achieved by the people."

"It was all folly, sister!"

"How was all of it folly!?"

"All it was… all it ever was, was bread and circuses. He fed them, he amused them."

"I would hardly call the shelter amusement!"

"I know that," she snapped, "I never meant that of his works, they did… O... dear sister, mine sorrow for shouting – she began to nuzzle the smaller alicorn, tearing. "I wanted him to succeed so much. That you did not know him, just his grace, his memory of those wise enough to keep it. I do not want her to share his fate."

They embraced, tearing each.

Author's Note

Like I said, maybe somewhat challenging to follow, but hopefully it is not too bad.

Please let me know what you all think; opinions and constructive criticism are quite welcome. At least try to keep trolling to a minimum.

Days Long Spent

So we wept, looked out at the cold, and no longer pondered past death.

Here we lie our mortal wants, eager for days long spent.

Lo! For now is the force, the reckoning, for past lives well lived.

Down the path of thistle, and past the Brook Styx.

"Your Grace," she looked up, "ole’friends’ere."

"Be out, brisk."

She tossed aside her livre and trotted up to her mirror, with her aura she drew a brush and a silver plate of eau, at once she straitened her mane and lathered her face. She splashed and dried. Disregarding her ornaments, she made out her chamber, down the hall and to the lobby.

"Into its own," she beamed, "what do I owe it?"

"Ah, spare’ye’quip," the earthpony grinned, "we’off t’tha’Brews’all t’ge’drunk!"

"Subtly never’y’art, Jackie."

"Ah," the jasmine pegasus whispered, "Jackie’s been off for-a-time, busy speculating about events before she’s seen’em."

"Worth nothing’nt be done about it, come’on let’s join’er’en tha blotto!"

"Trying to mimic subtleties Dash?" asked Twilight.

"Always!"

~*~

Carefree, the rose bushes with dew lingered; a happy grey mist spread all across Filsburry Circus. With her good eye, the right honourable mare surveyed morning press. Can’t be worse than when the Premier made a damn fool of’erself en-front-of the Zebriens. Just a bit of spirit, worse seen walking the purse home! A butterfly caught her other eye. My, aren’t you lovely! She gave thought to chasing it, but declined, flipping to the satiricals. Celeste knows what they have about me.

It was long obvious now that the success of their initial zealotry had yielded results that were hardly peripheral. But the starkest depths of the politic eluded them. Their minds left twisted on the winds as to how to at last attain the final heavenly embrace. Alas, no one was offered this apotheosis; they were now compelled, until the end of time, to keep moving keep inching forward—always on the edge, always on the margin and deeper into the bone. That was the end in the beginning; hoping for a better future, striving towards perfection, even if one knows it is folly.

The Circus was in the heart of Olde Towne Canterlot, encircled by lavish apartments and galleries; it was the only green field left there. Its paths and follows were kept manicured, but parts of it were left to grow wild with fescue and turf. In this oval: respite; as about it vortexed the sounds and bright of the city. Wrap around the city run, run wind—take along with you the trinkets of the day, whirl about, God speed!

~*~

She felt cold—always cold. A long day had turned to a long night; she shivered despite herself. Four years and no hope, as she laid alone. A crate upturned for a roof and tattered rags for clothing. Woe and fear companions in a dark and dreary world.

He plotted clumsily in the snow, drunk. It had been a rousing night with his ole mates. He matched the taupe-fur drape that cowled him, stumbling. Her eyes followed him; she took time for courage to build.

"Sir…sir…" she said, barely a whisper – spare a bit for a hungry mare."

She stayed downcast, never meeting his eyes when he turned. His reddened eyes peered her for a moment. Without a word he took out a silver coin from his bootpurse and tossed it to her.

She looked at him as best she could, "blessed… sir..." she feigned a smile.

He stepped towards the grey pegasus, who retreated into her cubby.

"Fear not, lass, I’mn’ot’ere to hurt you."

With one unshod hoof she inched closer to him.

"You’re a sweet little thing," he said nuzzling her, "what’cha doin’ out’ere?"

"I‘m not much for wanting, "she whispered in a dull voice."

"Ah… ye’speak too wrenched, lass," he patted her blonde mane, "com’on, let’s get you a drink."

~*~

"If I would have told you that this is not a-bit concerning, what sort of aimé would I be?"

"If I’d’a told ye that ye’weren’t a willowin’ twit—aye, don’t worry ‘bout it Rare, I’m sure she’s-a fine lass."

"Aye! The kind that keep you staring at their ramparts"

The earthpony blushed. "You be keepin’ that to yerself! ‘Sides only a bit of experimentin’ ain’t done n’one any’arm."

"Egh!" She rolled her eyes, "is Die joining us?"

"No, ‘er sis is due anytime now, she’s back a’the quarry t’play midwife."

"O! I do not see what could possibly go wrong there."

"Ah, she’s better than ye giv’er credit."

The unicorn smirked "O, I'm sure she is," she glanced around, "hmm... where’s Dash been off to?"

"Oh, she went a-head wit' Flutters te check up’on the Duchess.

"I though you said she is-a fine lass?"

"Precautions, precautions. 'Sides, ‘tis more to spy on'er accompaniment."

"O, very comforting."

~*~

It never seemed to make much of a difference;

we spent too much time regretting someone else’s errs.

I was there, red burning dusk, and all I could hope,

hope

for was… was…

If I were as irrelevant to this as it seemed my own had made me seem,

I would have opted out of this… this damn…

I grow flippant of this gaudy show—impatient with this parade of fools!

It is no longer moving to ponder my own damnation so long as this whole cohort of existence treads along mindlessly towards it!

Woe! For now is the movement of time and space! Load upon my weary back so far as to pry these insoluble troughs! Worthless! Worthless… worthless… I spite your name.

Author's Note

Hopefully some themes are coming together and some of the characters are beginning to emerge. Comments and critiques welcome.

Sweeping Pale

Sweeping Pale

Sweeping pale, the wind blew about; torrents aghast—the billowing snow. The current of the world fluttered by bleu-stained window panes. Where choirs sang and philharmonics roused; now it was time to make the covenant, take the oath and declare to the world their intentions, in this place, in this baroque hall. The elder Marquette de Belle accosted the podium, looking out at the mass of equinity. Violet eyes focused, meeting the same. There is nothing but fate. I stand long, headwind past the furrow, waiting for these zealous urges to come roaring by. I am alive and I am to be dealt with accordingly! Ready their gaze and forgive them of their transgressions. Now we rise!

"Brothers! Sisters! Too long have we suffered these abuses at the hands of our betters! We have endured these repulsive usurpations in their name. I say peers—join me, join us! Take this oath with me and declare your allegiance! We plead to God—guide us."

Horns bellowed and the bells rang, time now to be counted. She took the gavel in her aura; she rapped it against the lectern. She inhaled, cool air, the grandeur of this all.

"We now swear to one another, to our friends, and to our people. We now move towards the day of brilliant light, gallant. Let the di land how it may!"

~*~

"O!"

"So’e took’ff ‘is knickers and lay flat on ’is arse callin’ ou’ta lord know’s what!"

Round a booth in the back of the pub-house the circle of friends broke out into a laugh.

"‘Alf lamentin’—oh, ‘is drunkenness."

"So Die, awt’s been about in the Creachlands."

She perked up from her drink, "been well worth the rounds, off’er tomorrow I meet up with th’unions ‘opefully keep up."

"Piquing!"

"The unions Flutts?"

"O’evens no, damnable borrows always letting on. I’m just thinking to myself; got-a letter from St. George, sayin’ they got a Puffer. O lament, just the length away."

"No issue ‘ere Flutts, I’ll keep ya company—"

~*~

I am a gadfly, sitting still.
Watching as those pass by me,
I make no sound.
Cast you dreaming and move you off guard;
this circus of fools, pirouette.
I am here—broken by your whims;
a pile of chalk and ash.
These little folks hustle around—flutter about.
They are hungry… for bread, for will.
Now Celeste stands firm at the precipice—O, what mischief!
As Selene now prepares to ascend.
Fly away these little scenes;
for now I draw the curtain.
See with your minds what she has, a prisoner herself.
Now I shall be your poet, your guide.

T’was in the morn of December, bleakness filled with lights!
Fireflies latticed buildings, hearths glowing, dreaming.
Soup was poured into two matching bowls.
A ragged mare’s weary eyes filled with glee.
In haste she took the sébile, in shaking hooves she sipped—
slowly.
A smile formed on his face, "vous êtes belles!"
"Monsieur! J’ai piquant?"
"Dansez avec moi?"
"Oui."
As best she could she disrobed.
Before the fire they waltzed, melodies in their heads, hearts.
Not knowing how or—
With the crackling logs and fireflies as witness;
they joined together.
Sparks!

Come now, I will treat you as a fool!
Vous diéserez les poèmes—c’est pour vous…
She came into the halls expecting damnation,
but whoa!
So to thundering applause they beseech her.
Now a bilith, they kiss the rings of savages!
A ballast, now, they fear her politics, rightly so.
Selene, you beautiful mare, make them wilt…
bring about your change, wonderful, wonderful change!

~*~

I am—raison d’être.
Lo!—and you are.

~*~

So there—simple, really;
On the Eighteen Hundred and Sixty Seventh Year of Their Highnesses’ Reign,
in a bierhaus court not far from the grounds of Parliament—a meeting was held.
It was to be the first of many.
The hall was lit by a roaring fire in its hearth, rich stonework.
Fall, and the leaves whisked before the windows,
and moonlight, white, pierced the yellow glow.
A young alicorn princess, Crépuscule de la Maison d’Éclat,
sat quietly, in a corner booth.
Beside her, a jasmine yellow pegasus nudged at her pint-a-mild, looking into the hearth.
The princess sipped on calvados, spiced and warmed.
"So… your highness… why no accompaniment?" asked the chromatic pegasus who sat between them.
"I did not feel it necessary."
"Your highness."
The three of them stood up as their two other guests made their way towards the table.
"Princess, thi’is Rareté de Belle, and Applejack of Ponyville."
"Greetings both of you, what brings you to Canterlot? Especially during the harvest?" She eyed Applejack.
"Tha Congress," the earth pony mare quipped, "‘sides th’arvest’s over."
"And if I may, your highness, what brings you to us?" said the unicorn, eyebrow raised.
"I grow weary of the present politic."
"So you approach us, what of th’ liberals—"
"Too afraid – she injected, – they are not ready."
"And we are? – the jasmine pegasus whispered."
"I would hope."
"So ‘ou’re not afraid of be’in in-a-pact wit’us?"
"Should I?"
"You’ave more power than you let’on?"
"You could say that."
She sipped her mauled spirit.

~*~

Water, eau et vie, plucked the sidewalk.
Rain, delicate rain, glitter on my lashes,
take these delicate little ones on mine breasts,
and hold them warm and safe.
I have lost what I had, loving all the while.
Dear love, you have taken to heaven’s glow,
keep an eye on our girls.
Petition to almighty God for them;
sing glory to her name that they may be happy.
With my failing, my mother’s lament—keep me strong.
Grace me with will, and keep us in your thoughts.

I will—I will stand long, true.
Show my teeth and my smile;
they both deserve that which neither of us could afford.

So, now she morns the passing of day, this walleyed flower;
do not resent for you too shall arise, by the fault of circumstance.
I can hear the minstrels playing,
I can hear the minstrels playing.