Escorted by the two “guards,” Hauteclaire and his faux brother arrived at the front gates of Canterlot Castle, only to find out the King and Godiva were already inside and a guard was waiting for them. Led through the castle’s interior, Hauteclaire couldn’t help but feel awe at the splendor of Celestia’s halls. The stained glass windows sparkled like the aurora borealis and added a sparkling beauty to the surfaces around them. White stone columns reached the heavens and supported the high, domed ceiling that hung in the air like clouds, adding to the celestial feel of a castle fitting for a princess of the sun should have. But he had no time to fawn over being so close to royalty and imagine himself performing in these halls; if things were going to happen as he predicted, Princess Celestia would have bigger problems than missing the performance of a lifetime.

They turned a corner, and there the King stood in front of the door to Celestia’s throne room, arms crossed and tapping his foot. Despite his aggravated appearance, the smile on his face was one like an impatient child the day before Christmas. Godiva was there with him, her eyes wide open as she bounced in place on her toes. Her black and gold dress was cleaned, which was a good thing - she had worn it ever since Rarity had given it to her. Knebryter bobbed at her side, held in place by the golden sash tied tightly around her waist.

Here the guards left them and disappeared around a corner. Hauteclaire and Marcus walked toward the King.

“You’re late,” said the King. “Marcus, I’m surprised at you. You’re never late. Did it really take that long to work out an apology?”

“I’m terribly sorry, my King, I am, but we’re here now, and we have prepared our statements, we have.”

“Good,” said the King. “Now, all we need to do is wait for Celestia to open the door and let us in.”

Marcus walked up to the King and got on the side opposite of Godiva before whispering into his ear. “My King, can I have a moment, can I?”

When the King turned his back, Hauteclaire snuck up to Godiva’s side. “Godiva,” he whispered. “I need to speak with you, now.”

She stopped her bouncing. “No,” she said, turning her head and giving Hauteclaire a stern look.

“I’m serious, this is about the King and Princess Celestia, I--”

“Hauteclaire, I’m not listening to you. You’ve caused trouble for all the ponies, even the princesses! This is even worse than the time the Shield Bearer stole Knebryter from me! If it is soooo important, have Marcus tell it to me.”

“Godiva, damn it, stop being so childish!”

“Childish!?” She shoved Hauteclaire away from her. “I’m not the one who started a fight in Canterlot. Now leave me alone.”

Before he could even try to switch out with his brother, the doors to the throne room glowed and opened. At the far end of a red and golden rug, between two fountains, was the princess of the blue skies, the beauty behind the borealis--Celestia. She sat on a throne made of gold and red silk cushions. To her side was her sister, a deep blue alicorn with the night sky enveloping her, like a halo of speckled brilliance. To the other side were Twilight and her friends--“The Bearers of Harmony,” as he heard them called. Or something like that. Spike was alongside them, and he waved at Hauteclaire.

He was out of time.

Crap. Crap-crap-crap-crap-crap!

Hauteclaire wasn’t a religious mouse, but he prayed. If his suspicions were wrong, the worst he would have to do is go through with the apology and deal with the fact that he had insulted and threatened Celestia’s sister on their first night in Ponyville. He hoped they had forgotten about that.

A guard next to the door said, “Announcing, his majesty from the island of Ellan Lugh, the Mouse King.”

Ever the perfect two-faced diplomat, the King’s anxious toe-tapping ceased, and he swaggered into the throne room. His court followed.

Time stood still as Hauteclaire walked further into the throne room, its majestic qualities snubbed out by the ponies inside of it. On his left and right, rows of Solar Guard stood, their stoic gazes fixed on their every movement. Their muscles were tense, ready to strike at any moment. The Bearers of Harmony were a mixed bunch: Pinkie had a huge smile on her face, while Fluttershy and Rarity smiled modestly, they were those dainty little fronts that covered up their real feelings. Rainbow Dash was tense like the guards, but her eyes didn’t hide her distrust. More so Applejack, whose stare seeped with venom. Twilight was visibly nervous: her breathing was quicker than the others, but she fought to maintain a calm appearance, since her reputation as Princess of Friendship was possibly on the line. If she was truly confident, she probably wouldn’t have had all this security. It was possible that one of the other two princesses had taken precautions since they’d been spying on them. That and the court had been causing trouble since they had arrived.

Celestia herself had a smile in her face that reached her cheeks and emanated a welcoming warmth, like that of a mother. Luna was much more like the guards--stoic with a blank expression.

“Greetings, your Highness.” The Mouse King bowed on one knee. Hauteclaire snapped to attention as those words snapped him back to the present. He bowed with the rest of the court. “It is an honor for you to give me audience.”

Celestia bowed her head in return. “And it is an honor to meet a king such as yourself. I’ve never seen a monarch with such a hands-on approach to leading his subjects. From what I’ve heard from Twilight, truly you care very deeply about your court.”

He certainly was very hands-on, but she is probably sugarcoating it a bit.

The King stood up. “It has always been my driving force to be the greatest king in the land, and a great king serves his subjects. Kings can win obedience through force, but his name will echo in songs for generations if he can win their love.”

Celestia’s smile did not grow or shrink. She’s good.

“I understand you’ve traveled a great distance from your homeland. I hope your time in Equestria has been a pleasant one.”

“We’ve been to many lands, I can say without a doubt this is the most welcoming of them all. Your ponies have been nothing but friendly, supportive, and understanding. We’ve caused a lot of trouble in our short time here, but this was out of habit. We are accustomed to hiding and stealing to survive. When my scout Godiva told me of how warmly Twilight and her friends had welcomed her despite her differences, it brought me great joy that we might have found a land to rest and prepare for our journey home.”

Hauteclaire heard a pfft from one of Twilight’s friends. If he had to wager, it was probably from Applejack, because when he glanced over, he saw Rarity jabbing her in the ribs.

“Yes, Twilight has informed me about how you were forced out of your homeland. A tragic event it was indeed.”

“Princess, what you see before you is the last of my once-prosperous kingdom. We are the last survivors after an invasion. Chased out of our home, we have been searching for a place to recover so we could prepare to go back. We don’t feel like we belong anywhere else.”

“If I may, how do you plan on reclaiming your home?” Such a forward question; an immense weight hung on how the King answered.

The King accepted this challenge with a smile. “With strategy, your Highness. Diplomatic strategy. The invading forces took my kingdom away because they were searching for something. In the process, they’ve destroyed the very thing they wanted. For years, I have been working on ways to convince the invaders to leave, since what they want is now beyond their grasp.”

“And what was it they wanted?”

“Power. We were between two warring factions. Both sides converged on our land because it would had given them an upper hand; my kingdom and its inhabitants were destroyed in the crossfire. The war has left both sides in shambles, but they are still are a threat to a budding kingdom.”

Pinkie sniffed and blew into a tissue with a loud honk. What the King had said was true, but he always had a way of twisting words and leaving out details. Was Celestia clever enough to notice?

The King took a step back to be at Hauteclaire’s side. “Your Highness, you have been inconvenienced by the actions of my court. Hauteclaire has something to say to you and the citizens of Canterlot.”

With a light tap on the shoulder, the King guided Hauteclaire forward. The sudden realization that Celestia’s attention was on him made him forget where he was. Her warm, welcoming eyes sucked Hauteclaire in, but he looked away. He felt ashamed, unworthy, but to avoid eye contact would be rude, so he fought his urge to flee to save face. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come to him. He struggled to calm his thoughts and opened his mouth once again.

“Princess Celestia, I cannot begin to express how sorry I am for causing distress to you and your kingdom. In the uptown plaza, I had an argument with another one of us that got out of hand. There is no excuse for the damage we caused. Had I not let my emotions cloud my judgement, I could have prevented what had happened. For this, I am truly sorry and ready to do what I can to make amends.”

As soon as he finished the apology, Hauteclaire bowed and refused to lift his head up. An intense pressure built up in his head, his ears burned, and time crawled as he waited for something, anything, to take all the attention off of him. This spotlight penetrated his defenses; for once, he wished he wasn’t the center of attention.

“Hauteclaire.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. Celestia said his name, and it was pleasant. Not filled with anger, disappointment, nor coldness. It was filled with forgiveness, empathy, and warmth. He looked up and saw Celestia smiling at him, her smile slightly bigger than he last saw it.

“I’ve heard what happened between you and Porthos. You two never intended to harm any of my little ponies. In fact, news of your generous acts have spread throughout all of Equestria. Families fight, and yours is no different. You’ve admitted your errors and are willing to take responsibility for your actions, nopony was hurt, and the damage done has been repaired. I forgive you, Hauteclaire.”

Nothing before had ever left Hauteclaire so dumbfounded. She forgave him, and also indirectly praised him for things he had done. Certainly not all of the generous acts were his, but the fact that Celestia still recognized him for it sent shivers down his spine. “Thank you, Princess Celestia.”

“Hauteclaire,” continued Celestia. “I’ve also heard tales of your beautiful voice. Do you think you could lighten the mood with a song?”

Two in one day. Celestia acknowledging him was something else, but she had just asked him directly to perform for her. In her throne room. At that moment.

His dream, what he desired above all else, to perform and be recognized as worthy of his skill, it was about to come true, and it couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Now, more than ever, he wanted to decline. It didn’t feel right: here he was about to become part of a metaphorical train wreck, and the princess tied on the tracks was asking him to sing. Well, probably.

Hauteclaire’s desires tore at him. Should he sing and fulfill his dream, or sacrifice it all to save the princess? But would the worst even come to pass? He already had some precautions prepared for the worst (not as much as he wanted), but he had three aces up his sleeve. All he needed was a fourth.

“What are you waiting for?”

Hauteclaire turned around and saw the King.

“She wants to hear your singing.”

What if Hauteclaire was wrong? Was the King really going to call off the vacation? Maybe he had just checked their memories to make sure they had kept their promise. Hauteclaire had fulfilled his part of the bargain, Marcus had plenty of practice working his political muscles, and Porthos had pummeled a dragon. That could easily be considered training for “the game;” that meant it all rested on Godiva. Had she kept her promise: practice every day and stay sharp?

Godiva loved ponies too much to risk anything happening to them. Perhaps Hauteclaire was worrying about nothing. The stress of facing a possible catastrophe weighed heavily on his conscience; he wanted to escape it and return to a place where those troubles no longer bothered him nor even existed.

He wished to go home.

If he was to sing, and if it was to be his last chance at ever fulfilling his dream, he would snatch it and forever hold the memory in his heart. His artificial, duplicate, digital heart. Only one song came to mind as a suitable one fit for royalty.

He took another step forward. “It would be an honor to perform for you and your court, Princess Celestia. If I may, I shall sing the anthem of our once proud nation, Mice of the Isle.”

Celestia nodded. “Please.”

Hauteclaire turned to the King, as if checking for permission. The King smiled a little bit bigger and puffed out his chest more.

He turned back to Celestia, took a couple of deep breaths, hummed to loosen and warm up his throat before putting a hand to his chest.

“All ye brothers, stop your dreaming.

Can't you see the future gleaming,

beckons us to greatness beaming?

Glory calls us all.

Fate has smiled and gave us promise,

to your fellow mouse give solace,

we will prosper on our province,

ever we stand tall.

Voices ever thunder,

tearing walls asunder,

the heavens boom, our march resume,

and fill our hearts with wonder.

We’ll show hist’ry we’re most worthy,

for to spread our gifts we’ll journey,

heads held high and back-bones sturdy.

Evil won’t prevail.

He has brought to us a purpose,

his words are a burning furnace,

fiendish shadows won’t resurface.

We’ll fight tooth and nail!

Voices ever thunder,

tearing walls asunder,

the heavens boom, our march resume,

and fill our hearts with wonder.

Boom the cannons all the while,

battle on, mice of the isle,

with our courage and our guile,

never can we fail.

Hearts pound strong, mice of the isle

Never can we fail.”

With the song complete, Hauteclaire opened his eyes. Like the time he had sung in Ponyville, everyone who heard his voice gave him their full attention. Many of the guards’ stoic expressions cracked, revealing the tender emotions inside. Twilight and her friends were moved, but in varying degrees: Rarity had leaned her head back and let herself be carried away by the melody. Twilight tilted her head as she repeated the lyrics in her head. Pinkie dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Fluttershy was also in tears, but her crying was nowhere near as bombastic as Pinkie’s. Rainbow Dash and Applejack glanced at each other. “He’s got a good set of pipes, I’ll give him that,” whispered Applejack.

Hauteclaire didn’t care about their reactions; what mattered to him was sitting in front of him. No, standing! Celestia had stood up from her throne and come within arm’s length in front of Hauteclaire. Was his song good enough to move the princess of the sun, both figuratively and literally?

“Hauteclaire, your voice is more beautiful than I’ve been told. Your words speak of grand ideals that you aspire to. I am happy you have performed for us.”

Was Hauteclaire dreaming? He had to be. He wasn’t deserving of such an honor. Or was he? He had accomplished his dream--he had sung for those he thought deserving and had been recognized for his talent, but now that it had happened, Hauteclaire was left alone. The fleeting euphoria left him, and he felt empty. Had not the lingering thoughts of the game, the King, and possibly unfulfilled promises been chewing away at his mind, would he have felt better about his achievement? For now, he could only worry.

Hauteclaire bowed. “Thank you, Princess Celestia. It has been an honor.” He couldn’t stand to be near her; it made him sick. It required every ounce of his willpower to look the princess in the eyes once more before taking a step back.

The King patted him on the shoulder and filled the void left by Hauteclaire. “Yes, he is a magnificent bard, one of the finest examples my kingdom has produced. Without him, the kingdom’s morale wouldn’t have held as long as it did, letting us, and possibly others, escape.”

He puffed out his chest and gestured with open palms to his court. “Celestia, as you can see, my court is wonderful. They have been working hard in order to get home. So much has been taken from us. Friends, family, memories, and our livelihoods. However, they are not perfect. In fact, far from it.”

Hautclaire froze. No. Please, no.

“Everyone! I have an announcement.” He stretched his smile wider, peeled back his lips, and revealed his teeth. With a snap of his fingers, Porthos appeared right next to Godiva, sitting just as he had been in his cell less than a second ago. The confused giant looked around at his new surroundings. The sudden display of magic frightened the guards.

Oh, heavens above, he isn’t--

“To mold my court into the perfect knights they can be--”

Marcus inched closer to Godiva, ready to whisk her away at a moment’s notice, but she didn’t notice--she was too enthralled being surrounded by pony princesses.

“--we are very happy to accept your help.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow. So did Luna. Nopony had said anything about helping the court. Twilight furrowed her brow. “Help?”

“Why yes.” The King pointed to the four standing behind him. “You are going to whip my knights into shape!”

He is.

Ponies tilted their heads and whispered to each other. The soldiers stiffened their stances, Luna shifted in her seat, and the Bearers were whispering to each other.

“And how would we do that?” asked Celestia, amazingly able to keep her cool, although everyone knew something was amiss.

The King grinned. “We’re going to play a game.”

“NO!” Godiva ran up to the King before Marcus or Porthos could snatch her. Her sudden movements startled the guards. She grabbed the King by the shoulders and shook him. “You can’t!”

“Oh, indeed I can!” The King slapped away Godiva’s hands. “You didn’t keep your end of the bargain. All of you didn’t!”

He pointed at Porthos. “You lied to me. You said you wanted to be a pony to practice going undercover, not so you could be charitable and get drunk!”

His finger moved to Marcus. “You knew this and didn’t tell me about it. You also failed to noticed we were being spied on from the first night we’ve been here! And you, Hauteclaire--”

Hauteclaire flinched.

“--you knew a powerful being was spying on us, and you didn’t tell me; and you gave a piece of your fragment to a filly! You could have jeopardized everything. As for you, Godiva--”

He grabbed Godiva by the neckline of her dress and pulled her down to eye level. Their noses pushed against each other. “You said, ‘They’re pretty medieval-ish. The worst they got is some armor and basic magic.’ That they ‘would be terrible at the game. Pushovers.’ Look around, Godiva, but it’s a little late for that now, isn’t it? You’re the scout--it’s your job to learn as much about the enemy before we confront them. They have microphones, trains, and hospitals with advanced medical equipment. Do those seem ‘medieval-ish’ to you? Do you see the princesses standing before you, the ones that move the sun and the moon with ease?! ‘Basic magic’ my big, fat, hairy tuchus. You’ve let these ponies turn your brain to mush. And you didn’t conquer Ponyville like you first claimed--they captured you and let you go!”

The King pulled her closer and grumbled. “I’m very disappointed in all of you. Vacation’s off. Pick a side, Godiva. The court or the ponies.”

She pushed against the King, but he didn’t let her go. “No! The game is cruel. I refuse to participate, and I will not let you hurt these ponies. I vote--”

“Suit yourself.” The King smacked Godiva on the forehead; she staggered about. “Rule number two, Godiva. You broke it.”

“No!” It was too late. Hauteclaire could no longer get to Godiva. She had broken one of the rules of the game and now had to suffer the consequences.

Godiva opened her eyes--they glowed red. She snarled at those around her. The King applauded. “Now that’s the Godiva I remember.”

“Get him!” shouted Porthos. He and Hauteclaire charged the King. A blur of black and blue smashed Hauteclaire back, and he tumbled on the floor. Godiva stood above him; all the carefree happiness she had exuded earlier had been swallowed up by a cold shell, the impenetrable exterior shielding her vulnerable inside from the world. She was just as she had been before--The Black Knight. Little Miss Too-Late. Once you saw her, it was too late.

Behind Godiva, Hauteclaire saw Porthos down on his knees as the Mouse King twisted Porthos’ wrists and forced him down. When he couldn’t get Porthos any lower, he jumped up and smacked Porthos across the face. Porthos’ eyes grew red just like Godiva’s.

Marcus had taken a different approach. He jumped over the tussle between the King and Porthos and begged the ponies to listen. “Listen, ponies, listen! The King has gone mad, he has! You must fight back, you must! Fight--”

Marcus and his pleas were smashed under Porthos’ gigantic fists. The King smiled. “Good job, Porthos. Bring him here.”

“Not so fast!” A rainbow streak shot through the air and smashed Porthos on the back of the head, but he was hardly knocked off balance. Rainbow Dash turned her attention on the King and charged in for a full-on bodyslam, but Godiva was faster and tackled Rainbow first then threw her against a bunch of guards.

So many guards. Had they all been there to begin with, or had they been hiding, ready to spring if trouble arose? Gold-and-blue-armored pegasi swarmed in the air around the King, Porthos, Godiva, and the now mind-controlled Marcus, while earth ponies held spears and unicorns lit their horns in preparation to blast the Court with magic. How unfortunate that they were in the way of the King.

“Your Majesty,” said Celestia with a stern voice. “I don’t know what has gotten into you, but this must stop, or you will be forced to leave.”

The King intertwined his fingers and stretched his arms out, popping all the joints in his knuckles. “Oh, you don’t need to worry, princess, we’ll leave, but you are coming with us.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Not a threat, an invitation.”

Luna stepped forward. “Step down, Mouse King. Whatever you are scheming, it shall fail.”

The King reached under his cape. “Au contraire, my fine mare, your horns may flair, but I don’t play fair. There’s more than air in my skull’s lair; I take much care when setting a snare. How will you fare? You don’t have a prayer.” He pulled out a polished wooden box.

Unicorn spells blasted, and the room ignited with a sudden flash. Hauteclaire couldn’t see, but he heard plenty: guards yelling, spells zapping, and gasps and screams from the Bearers. When the brightness subsided, the King and his court had not even a scratch.

“What the-- we hit him with all we got!”

“Paralyzation spells aren’t working!”

“Don’t let them near the princesses or the Bearers!”

“Fire again! Use lethal force!”

Hauteclaire braced himself, but no flash came. The unicorns looked at each other with confused gawks and wide-eyed stares.

“Why can’t I cast anything?”

“Your horn, there’s a magic inhibitor!”

“Me too!”

“Quick, get it off!”

“Help!”

Unicorns pawed at their horns and tried to help remove inhibitors from their closest comrades while the King laughed. The rest of the court stood silently and focused on their goal: the princesses.

The Bearers had rallied around the princesses and stared down the King.

“Why would you do this? I thought we were friends,” cried Pinkie Pie.

“You monsters! How dare you soil this castle with this barbaric behaviour!” said Rarity.

Applejack snorted. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you.”

Rainbow hovered over her friends’ shoulders. “You’re not going to get away with this!”

Fluttershy flared her wings. “Why are you doing this? This isn’t nice.”

“Mouse King,” said Twilight. “How dare you take advantage of our friendship and generosity? Leave now, and we will forget this happened.”

The Mouse King ignored them; instead, he was holding the polished wooden box upside-down over his head and looking up into it. He held it in front of him and beat on the bottom. “Strange… I thought there were more of those inhibitor things. Where did they go?”

“Mouse King, leave,” commanded Luna. With her and Celestia’s wings fanned out, they appeared much larger than any of the other ponies, like giants among dwarves. Gods among mortals. “Now.”

The King looked up at the princesses. “Oh! That’s where I put them!”

The Bearers didn’t take too kindly to the King’s tone, and three of them charged. Rainbow soared straight at the King. “You’re going down!” Her body jerked in mid-air, and she came to a complete stop. Porthos had snagged her by the tail and held her up in front of his face. His glowing red eyes fixed on her as she threw punches and kicks that didn’t reach.

Rarity followed suit, leaping toward the King with a flying kick, only to have herself be snatched up by Porthos’ free hand and join Rainbow in her futile struggles in the giant’s grasp.

The King chuckled.“He’s my bodyguard for a reason.”

Applejack stampeded through Porthos’ legs, snapped around, jumped up in the air, and kicked off Porthos’ back, leaping over Godiva and Marcus, straight at the King. In response, the King raised a hand, and Applejack fell to the floor like a rock; she struggled and grunted, but with all her might, she couldn’t get up from her stomach.

“He still needs work, though.”

The pegasi and earth ponies charged, but Godiva zoomed about and knocked them out of the air. They fell to the ground dazed; some bashed into each other, while others slammed into pillars and fell unconscious. Knebryter swung about wildly in Godiva’s hand, breaking both spears and skulls alike. Nothing got passed the black, blue, and brown whirlwind that was the Black Knight and her steed.

“Stop it! Stop this violence,” shouted Fluttershy.

Twilight aimed her horn at the King. “Let my friends go!” She concentrated and grunted, but nothing happened. She tried again, but no matter how much she strained and scrunched up her face, nothing happened.

Pinkie jumped to her side. “Twilight, your horn!”

There were several inhibitors on her horn that covered all but the tip.

“What!? When? How did he--”

Pinkie propped herself up on Twilight’s shoulder and reached for the top inhibitor, but something brown snagged her and sent her flying back. Four arrows attached to a net pinned her against the wall; she kicked and she struggled, but the arrows stuck tight, and the net didn’t falter. The King had provided Marcus with his bow, and he had used it to ensnare any remaining ponies that tried to put up a fight.

Pinkie stopped struggling. “Why are you doing this? Have you lost your marbles?”

The King grabbed his belly, pulled it to the side, and looked toward his feet.

Rainbow glared.“That’s not what she meant, feather-brain.”

The King’s belly giggled as he let it go. “Marbles!? I’ve lost more than my marbles, little missy.” The King grabbed his head and popped off the top to reveal his brain. Rubies replaced missing bits and chunks; his frontal lobe was mostly red. “I’ve lost everything, and you ponies are going to help me get it back!”

Luna snorted. “I’ve had it with your buffoonery. Sister, let’s-- Sister! The cur has gotten you as well!”

Celestia looked up at her horn; it too was covered from top to bottom with inhibitors. She turn around and retreated as Luna leaned her head down and tried to push the inhibitors off her horn. “Sister! Where are you going?”

“He has the upper hand. We must retreat and prepare a counter-attack. Fighting him now would be useless.”

The King smirked and extended his hand. “You aren’t going anywhere, my ‘guest.’ The party’s just getting started.”

Celestia stopped running and struggled; her legs trembled as she fought an invisible force dragging her down. She took one, two more weak steps away before her legs buckled and she collapsed to the floor.

“Sister!” With a flap of her wings, Luna charged at the King, her horn aimed at him; only the very tip could be seen under all the inhibitors. The King yawned as Luna soared at him, and with his cupped hand, he smacked away Luna’s horn when it was only inches from his chest. Luna careened to the side and hit the floor with a sickening thud.

The King inspected his fingers and wiped them on his chest. “I think you gave me a scratch. You should be very careful where you point that--Gahoo!” Twilight flew right into the King’s stomach and knocked him back.

“How dare you touch Luna!” she screamed. She kicked the King again, this time knocking him off balance.

“Porthos, hello, do your job!”

Porthos raised up his hand with Rainbow and, using her as a morning star, whacked away Twilight. Rainbow screamed, and Rarity shrieked.

“Hey!” Fluttershy flew up to Porthos’ face and poked him in the schnauz. “You’re hurting and scaring everypony. Godiva told me how you used to be such a nice rat. But look at you; you’re hurting my friends! Why I--” Another net flew through the air and trapped her against the wall.

The King adjusted his crown. “Thank you, Marcus. She was getting preachy.”

The pinned pony’s pleas echoed in Hauteclaire’s ears, as well as Porthos’. He was gazing beyond the ground in front of him and had lowered his hands enough that Rarity and Rainbow could reach the floor. Rainbow clawed at the ground, pulled away hard enough to free her tail from the loosened grip, and flew by Twilight’s side. “Twilight, are you okay?!”

“Rainbow--” Twilight shook the daze away. “Rainbow! You have to fly! Get help!”

“What, and leave you here with him? No way. I’m gonna knock the hay out of him.”

“No, Rainbow, he-- Celestia!”

Porthos had Celestia by the tail and dragged her over to the King. Rarity was no longer in his other hand; she was now trapped in a net just like Pinkie and Fluttershy.

“Bring her here. It’s time we prepare her for her little trip.”

This was unforgivable. Hauteclaire couldn’t take anymore. The King had to be stopped, but how? The only way Hauteclaire could even stop the King was out of his grasp.

Then it hit him--the Brain of Atlantis! The source of the King’s power was nearby, so it was very likely that the King had it on his person, and if that was true, it would be hiding in one of two places: in his crown or in his stomach. Hauteclaire only had one shot of taking it away from him and using it to force the King to surrender.

But there was no dirt nearby. They had passed plenty of potted plants in the halls, but there was no time. If Hauteclaire tried to go through the hallways, the King was bound to notice and turn his attention on him. If he acted fast enough, he could stun the King by striking the Brain, but it would hurt Hauteclaire as well. He’d have to fight through the shock and tear the Brain from the King’s insides--if it was there at all.

Celestia’s hooves scuffed on the smooth floor as she kicked and flapped her wings, but all her struggles failed to slow down Porthos.

The King scratched his chin. “You know, it feels like I’m forgetting something.”

“Yeah, like me!” Rainbow zoomed at the King and kicked out a hoof, but she was intercepted by a net, pinning her to a column. She kicked and cursed while chewing on the ropes.

The King snapped his fingers. “That’s it! You can’t have a party without music!” A table with a tablecloth reaching the floor appeared next to him, on top of which was his CD player. He fiddled with the buttons and knobs as Hauteclaire snuck up behind him, dagger drawn and ready to gut the King like a fish.

“You snake in the grass.”

The King turned to Applejack, caught in her net and pinned to the ground right where the King left her.

“You call yourself a great king? Twilight told me all about the good you claimed to have done. How you are a ‘king of the mice.’ Phooey. You’re a tyrant and a liar.”

He stopped messing with his CD player and stared wide-eyed at Applejack. “I’m not a liar.”

“Yes, you are! You’ve gone and lied to Twilight, just to get to her. A good king? I know cow patties when I see ‘em.”

“I am not a tyrant!” stated the King as he stomped over to Applejack. He waved his hand, the net vanished, and Applejack jerked from the ground and floated in front of the King.

“You can’t fool me. I bet you never even had a kingdom to begin with. You’re a liar, a tyrant, and a bully.”

The King screamed, “You know nothing! You know nothing about what I’ve been through. I’ve lost everything that ever had meaning in my life. They all were my family, and I lost them all. Tyrants and liars tricked me and stole everything I had. Rats, dukes, gods, they got close with their serpent tongues and stabbed me in the stomach! Literally! I died protecting my family--” The King pulled Applejack close “--and I’ll die again before I let them get away with it.”

Hauteclaire pounced, but the King pointed his finger over his shoulder, and Hauteclaire froze in mid-air. After shoving Applejack back and Marcus pinning her to the ground with another net, the King tapped Hauteclaire on the forehead. “Don’t think I forgot about you.”

Hauteclaire fell from the air and landed on his hands and knees. He fought to get up and lunge again, but it was too late. His control over his body faded; his thoughts raced as an invasive virus overtook his body. He fought and screamed on the inside, but his body didn’t respond. The tie between his actions and his thoughts had been severed. He was now under the King’s command.

The King stared down at Hauteclaire, as angry as Hauteclaire had ever seen him before. His chest heaved with each long, exaggerated breath. “Now, Hauteclaire, would you kindly make me an axe while I find some fitting music? Something big and sharp, large enough for a princess.” With a wave of his hand, a large pile of dirt collapsed onto the clean floor in front of him. The King turned back to his CD player while Hauteclaire focused on the dirt.

Hatred coursed through his veins and filled his heart with the wretched bile of his feelings for the King. In his hands, he was making the tool that would be used to turn a nation against the court, turn the equines against the rodents, turn the most welcoming and friendly beings Hauteclaire had ever known against him. This axe wouldn’t just sever tissue bonding the flesh, but also Hauteclaire from any respect he had left for the King.

As he ran his hands over the blade of the axe and pinched the sharp edge between his fingers, he could only watch as Porthos grabbed Celestia’s flapping wings in one hand and stretched her neck out by pulling on her horn. She continued to kick and thrash in Porthos’ grasp, but all she accomplished was losing a few swan-like feathers, scuffing up the pristine floor, and straining her heavenly voice. Her struggles added to the great commotion that shook the throne room. Ponies screamed for help; others cried at the scene before them; many more cursed the Court and vowed a violent end to them. Hauteclaire heard it all, but he didn’t listen; all he could focus on was the princess he felt respect for being spread out like a Christmas goose, ready for the chopping block.

The axe was finished. He handed the large, dark grey instrument of death to the King. “Your axe, Your Majesty.”

The King took the axe and hit the play button on his CD player. Dramatic music with screeching strings and caterwauling choruses began to play. It was a soundtrack fitting for a battle between gods. “Thank you, Hauteclaire. Now...”

The King walked over to Celestia, the large axe in his hands. She stared back with an enraged determination on her face. Wrinkles bunched up on her snout, and she bared her teeth. “You won’t get away with this.”

The King patted his belly and laughed. “Oh really? Who’s going to stop me? Porthos, make sure you hold back the mane. Wouldn’t want to ruin that.” He raised the axe over his head, then a flash of purple blasted it in two, and the pieces fell out of the King’s grasp. “What the--”

Twilight’s horn glowed purple. The inhibitors were scattered all around her; something had torn apart the net holding her down and removed the inhibitors from her horn. Hauteclaire thought he saw a bit of purple and green for a moment behind the pillar closest to her.

Another purple flash hit the King in the stomach, knocking him on his backside. Twilight flared her wings, and her horn glowed so brightly that it painted the walls purple. “Mouse King, I won’t forgive you!” she cried as more and more power glowed from her horn; a forcefield encapsulated her.

The King didn’t bother to get up from his bottom and clapped. “Good show, Twilight, good show. Godiva?”

Godiva charged at Twilight and was repelled by a wave of magic. Marcus fired an arrow net, but it was vaporized when it got close to her. The King crossed his arms. “What? Is that all you got? Hauteclaire, deal with her.”

Hauteclaire scooped up a bit of the remaining dirt and melded it into a knife, then threw it at a stained glass window behind him. The glass shattered, and the knife flew up in the open sky as Hauteclaire turned around and walked over to Twilight, his hands behind his back. He didn’t like what he was going to, but the King commanded it.

Twilight aimed her horn at Hauteclaire, but the stained window behind her shattered. Twilight jumped and zapped the knife in air, and it vaporized into dirt. Despite being encased in a purple magic shield, Twilight was distracted. Hauteclaire took a deep breath and exhaled. “POW!”

A force of sonic energy rushed through the room and pushed all the ponies in its path across the floor. Twilight took the brunt force of the boom and was knocked against the wall. Her shield shattered. Another blast from Hauteclaire knocked her against the wall again; her horn flickered as the magic around her dissipated.

The King snapped his fingers, and the inhibitors reappeared on her horn completely intact. Marcus fired another net and pinned Twilight to the wall. “Thank you. Now, where was I?”

He picked up the two pieces of the axe and put them together; the break disappeared as the two parts melded into one. He gave it a few swings and turned back to Celestia. “We ready, Celly? Can I call you Celly?”

She gave no response.

“How about Sunbutt?”

Celestia bared her teeth.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ Oh well, back to our game.” He raised the axe over his head as Celestia continued to struggle in Porthos’ grasp. He let go of her wings, placed his hand on her barrel, and pushed down to hold her in place. Ponies all around screamed and cried. Many of them pleaded for mercy and for the princess to be spared. So did Hauteclaire inside his head, but he knew nothing could stop the King now. It was too late.

The King brought the axe down on Celestia, there was a snap and a flash of light. When Hauteclaire’s vision returned, he saw that Celestia was still in one piece, and the King was holding something pink against her neck. The King lifted up the long, wobbly, pink cylinder that was in his hand. “What is this, a pool noodle?”

“That’s right. I think you had enough fun for one day.” From behind Celestia’s throne slinked out Discord. “Oops! Hold on.” He pressed on the side of the throne, and there was a flush.

Fluttershy cried tears of joy and called out Discord’s name. Other ponies expressed relief that the demon of chaos had showed up. Pinkie cheered, “D-I-S C-O-R and another D! Discord’s here! Discord’s here!”

“Yeah, Discord! Send them packing,” said Rainbow.

“What in tarnation are you doing? This isn’t a time for jokes. Get ‘em!” shouted Applejack.

Discord rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh. Well, I must say, Mouse King--” He slithered through the air towards the King. “--when I was first assigned to watch you, I thought it would be boring, just a waste of my valuable time, but I must admit, you little guys are quite a hoot.”

The King snarled and threw the foam tube to the side. “Why, Discord. I’m so happy we could entertain you. You certainly have been doing a good job messing with Hauteclaire. What you did at my dinner was hysterical. I’m so glad I can watch that over and over again.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you got a kick out of that. And as much fun as I was having with this little ‘game’ of yours, I’m afraid I’ll have to put an end to it.” Discord raised up his claw and readied to snap his talons.

The King grabbed his belly and laughed. “You? Stop me!? Hoo boy, that’s a hoot.” He wiped away a tear. “Seriously, I’m just about done. There’ve been enough interruptions as it is.”

Discord flinched at the King’s retort, but only for a second before he called his bluff-- “It’s been fun. Nothing personal.” and snapped his talons.

A flash of light blinded Hauteclaire. When his sight returned, he saw no difference in the room--everyone was intact, and nothing seemed abnormal for a room full of ponies, celestial gods, medieval mice, and a draconequus. All his thoughts came to a screeching halt when he felt something gooey on his feet. The floor below him turned to paste, and he was sinking into it. He pulled on a foot, but he couldn’t break free as the floor continued to swallow him up whole. The same happened to Godiva, Porthos, and Marcus. Each one of them struggled against the floor, with no success. Porthos even tried to pull himself out with one hand, but that too got stuck; even so, his free hand still held Celestia down by her wings.

Despite being caught in the quick-goo as the rest, the King didn’t struggle. In fact, he seemed to relish in it as he watched Discord’s face. His grinning grew with each passing second, as he let Discord think he won. “Nice trick; now it’s my turn.” He snapped his fingers, and a flash of light filled the throne room again. This time, there was only one change: the King was wearing a pair of jeans.

Discord raised an eyebrow, bent down, and pointed at the King’s new clothes. “And what, pray tell, is that?”

The King grabbed the zipper and pulled it down. “Say hello to my little friend.” Out of the King’s fly popped out the head of a cockatrice. It glared at Discord while hissing and screeching. Discord jumped back and gasped as he threw an arm over his face; he flew away from the King towards Pinkie up on the wall and pulled things out of her mane while keeping his back to the King and his cockatrice. All the while, his tail and legs were slowly turning to stone.

Using a rainbow-colored apple, blue flowers, and some yellow cherries among other things, Discord mixed up a concoction in a small cauldron, raised it up, and dumped its contents all over himself. Now soaked in whatever brew he had made, Discord’s body was no longer petrified. He turned around and strutted back towards the King, smirked, and snapped his fingers. The King’s cockatrice and jeans disappeared.

“Don’t be trying that again,” he said. “I’m on to your tricks.”

“Oh really?” The King shrugged. “Well, I guess I lost.”

Fluttershy spoke up. “Discord…”

“Not now, Flutters, Discord’s busy.”

“Yo, Discord!” shouted Rainbow.

“Not now! I’m in the middle of-”

“Consarnit, your tail, you darn fool!” shouted Applejack.

Discord raised an eyebrow. “My what?” He turned around and looked at his tail, it was turning to stone again. Discord scratched the air, tore open a portal, and hastily plucked out the ingredients for his former concoction, made another brew, and dumped it on himself again before looking back at his tail. It was all stone.

Beads of sweat collected on Discord’s brow as he threw together another brew. This time he added more ingredients than before. He dumped it on his tail this time, with no results. His breathing quickened as he opened another portal and pulled pieces of paper and parchments out, giving them a quick look, then throwing them over his shoulder. “Where is it, where is it?” he muttered as he looked for his antidote recipe.

The King chuckled. “Poor, poor Discord. What are you going to do?”

Discord glared at the King out of the corner of his eye while rummaging through his endless supplies of notes, journals, and envelopes with heart stickers on them.

“I know all about you. Well, not everything, really, just enough. Trapped in stone? And not once, but twice? Makes sense when you think about it.”

Discord muttered something under his breath as he continued digging in his portal.

“Discord, what’s going on?” said Fluttershy. Her voice warbled as she watched Discord’s body be swallowed in stone.

The King tilted over and looked up at Fluttershy. “You don’t know? I’m surprised, considering you should know Discord’s weakness. He’s a being of chaos; he can’t stay still. At peace, if you will. If he stops moving, he loses his power. Well, weakens quite a bit, at least. It’ll take him another thousand years just to build up the energy to escape!”

The ponies gasped. Their ace had been trumped. Discord frantically made his concoction one more time, this time adding different ingredients, and dumped it on himself before his shoulders froze in place. “I don’t get it! I’ve memorized the recipe. Why isn’t it working?”

The King pulled one leg, popped it off at the knee, and regrew a new leg in its place. He set it down on solid ground and did the same with the other leg. He strutted up to Discord and looked up into his eyes. “Oh no, you got your antidote right the first time. It’s just not the medusa-chicken’s magic doing this to you--” The King ignored gravity and walked up Discord’s stone body before grabbing Discord’s beard and pulling his face up to his. “--It’s mine.”

Whatever comeback Discord had, it would go unsaid. He had been petrified.

The King laughed again. “Oh, and so you ponies don’t get any bright ideas.” He grabbed Discord’s antlers and pulled. Discord’s head popped off. Screaming and wailing filled the hall. “I’ll be taking this.” He stuffed the stone head up under his cape and walked down to the floor.

“You monsters!”

“Discord!”

“Murderer! Murderer!”

Hauteclaire looked around at the bearers. The travesty they had witnessed had shaken them to their cores. Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Twilight struggled again with renewed vigor, and Pinkie and Rarity stared with their mouths hanging open. Fluttershy took it worst of all: she curled up into a ball and cried into her fetlocks.

Never before had the King done something so malicious. The court had done some pretty terrible things in their time, but nothing like this, and this was only the beginning. Hauteclaire’s mind raced as he thought of ways to sabotage the King, but the screaming, wailing, and shouting, on top of the unnecessary music playing in the background, made it hard for him to concentrate.

With a swish of his hand, the now-solid floor around the court’s feet cracked and crumbled. Hauteclaire and the rest pulled themselves out with ease. “Enough distractions! Let’s get this over with.” The King picked up the pool float, which turned back into an axe in his grip, and walked over to Celestia. After swinging the axe a few times, the King lined himself up at Celestia’s neck and raised the axe over his head. “Nighty-night, Princess Sunbutt.”

An unnatural silence smothered the throne room as the axe descended upon Celestia’s swan-like neck. She kicked and struggled in the hands of Porthos, but she couldn’t budge. Her hooves scuffed and clacked on the floor, and her hindquarters flailed wildly. The sound of rending flesh sliced through the silence. The axe hit the floor with a clang.

Celestia’s struggling stopped.

Her body went limp.

Her legs no longer kicked.

It was done.

Twilight screamed as she bashed the inhibitors on her horn against the wall. Without much freedom, she couldn’t get a lot of momentum to break the seal to her magic. The King waved a hand in Twilight’s direction, and the net tightened, squeezing Twilight against the wall and taking away any slack she had before.

The King picked up Celestia’s head by the horn and chucked it towards Hauteclaire. “Hold this.”

Her fur was so soft, her mane was softer than silk, and her face was so peaceful, like she was asleep. His stomach turned as he stared at the regal head. Stopping the King was no longer enough for him; he vowed to end him.

The King pointed at Luna. “Bring me the blue one.”

Porthos got up and walked over to Luna, who still laid on the floor unconscious. He grabbed her by the horn and dragged her over to the King. Luna let out a groan as Porthos moved her.

Oh, please stay unconscious, prayed Hauteclaire.

The King lined up his axe at Luna’s neck and did a few practice swings. He raised up his axe to deliver the blow.

The was a loud clatter, and the King jumped. All of the court turned around and saw that the CD player had fallen from its little table. The music from before stopped, and the CD skipped to a different song.

Oh my god, Becky, look at her butt. It is so big.

There were no ponies anywhere near the table. The King dropped the axe and rolled his eyes as he walked over to the CD player. “Great, that totally ruined the vibe.”

He bent down to pick up the player, but something purple jumped out from under the tablecloth and spat green flames at the King. He fell on his behind and pushed himself back as Spike continued to run forth, scream profanities, and blow fire at the King.

“Godiva! Take care of the dragon,” screamed the King.

Godiva charged at Spike, but she ran straight into a wall of green flames. The fire consumed her, swallowing up Godiva and burning away her body. Godiva shrieked as the flames lapped her body from existence, leaving behind only a faint, green smoke in the air. The smoke flew up in the air and collected above Hauteclaire. He jumped aside as Godiva appeared above him and fell flat on her face.

Spike didn’t stop. He spat more flames and curses at the King. Marcus shot a net at Spike, but it trapped him for only a moment. The dragon fire ate away Marcus’ net, and Spike was back to menacing the court.

A command from the King rang in Hauteclaire’s ears. Don’t just stand there, get him you fool! He placed Celestia’s head down gently, pulled out another dagger, and marched towards the rebellious Spike. Despite being commanded to deal with him, he actively sought out ways he could sabotage himself or disable Spike in the most humane way possible.

As Hauteclaire approached, Spike stood his ground. “Hauteclaire, snap out of it!”

Hauteclaire stopped a few feet away from Spike and prepared to strike.

“Aren’t we friends? Come on Hauteclaire! Don’t do this.”

His fist shook as he fought against his own hand from raising the dagger over his head.

“Please, don’t make me do this,” Spike pleaded.

Hauteclaire threw the dagger straight up, and Spike snapped his neck following the dagger. He realized his folly too late when Hauteclaire blasted him with another sonic blast. Hauteclaire tumbled and smacked against the wall behind him. Hauteclaire’s dagger swooped in the air and homed in on Spike, ready to cut close and distract him again so Hauteclaire could get in another blow. Spike rolled away from the dagger and took another blow to the side. His hard scales protected him from the blunt force.

Ponies cried out for Spike. Others cursed Hauteclaire for picking on a baby dragon. Every word cut him like a dagger.

He looked back at Celestia’s head, which was still where he had left it. The King had ordered Hauteclaire to take Celestia’s head. It would have been irresponsible of him to let someone else take it. Spike took the opportunity, got up on his feet, and charged Hauteclaire.

Before he could get close, Godiva slammed into him, and Spike tumbled over near Rainbow Dash and Applejack. He pushed off the ground and blew flames on the nets trapping the two. Freed, Rainbow charged Godiva and body-slammed her. Applejack picked Spike up off the ground and hugged him. “Good job, sugarcube! Quick, free everypony else. We’ll keep these vermin away from you.” Spike saluted and went about freeing more guards and Bearers from nets and inhibitors alike.

The King clenched his shaking fists. “Drat, drat, double drat! We need practice. We’re getting sloppy!” He snatched up the axe and stomped over to Luna, who was up on her two front hooves. Guards tried to tackle him, but the King didn’t even have to blink to send the guards flying a different direction with an invisible burst of energy. He raised his axe and swiped at Luna’s neck.

Luna looked up just in time to push off the floor away from the King, but not soon enough to dodge the blade as it sliced her neck. It slipped through most of her neck, and Luna fell limp on the floor, her neck only held together by a thin piece of skin.

The King raised his axe again to finish the job, but a purple blast disintegrated it above his head. Twilight was free and coming for him, as were a bunch of guards. Unicorns no longer burdened with inhibitors shot spells at the court, blowing bits and pieces from the court’s bodies.

Furious, the King threw out his hands. Every pony in the room was pulled back and slammed into the walls. The King snatched Celestia’s head off the floor, but a flash of purple appeared before him. Twilight had teleported from the wall and in front of the King. She gripped the King in a magical vice grip.

The King snarled. “You think you’ve got the upper hand now, don’t you? Well, you’re wrong, missy. You’re going to have to try harder.”

“You killed her! I won’t forgive you!”

“Oh, did I?”

“What are you talking about? You--”

He snapped his fingers, and the court disappeared, taking with them Celestia’s head and the CD player.

With the court gone from sight, the pony guards spread out and barked orders at each other as the Bearers gathered around Celestia’s and Luna’s bodies. They all jumped when the King’s voice echoed throughout the throne room.

“Ponies, if you want your princess Celestia back, you’ll have to take her back--by force!”

Hauteclaire couldn’t believe his eyes, and the two guards sitting next to him couldn’t believe what they heard.

“Wow,” said the guard that was Porthos. “Good thing you swapped yourself out with a double as well, eh, lad?”

Marcus sighed. “He really has done it, he has.” He reached up and scratched on his head where he would normally have terrible scars. “He’s changed, he has. The game isn’t supposed to be that violent or malicious, it isn’t.”

Hauteclaire could only gaze around the closet he and the two “guards” were standing in. After Porthos and Marcus disguised as guards escorted Hauteclaire’s double in, they snuck the real one into the castle and into a closet in a wing far from the chaos. As he saw what his doubles saw, he narrated the events to an astonished Porthos and Marcus.

As the events unfolded, Porthos became agitated and kicked cleaning supplies and the wall while cursing the King. Marcus just stared at the floor and didn’t move except for the occasional head scratch.

“Brother,” said Marcus. “What do we do now?”

Hauteclaire scratched his forehead. “I’m thinking.”

Porthos stomped the floor and snorted. “Come on, Haut! You’re the one with the sneaky plans! You gotta think of something.” He stomped the floor some more, crushing a few brooms and mops underneath as the steam escaped, taking the wind out of him in the process. He slumped his shoulders and let out a single sob. “Those poor lads and lasses. Poor ponies. Poor Godiva.” Out of it, Porthos plopped his rump on the ground and sighed.

This stupid game. Purposefully antagonizing countries and seeing how long they would last. Only leaving once they were beat or when the King felt the locals had had enough. Never before had it gotten this intense. Damn it all! This was too far, even for the King. He had changed. The king Hauteclaire respected would have never done such a thing. He would have rather died.

Images raced through his head of the King. Of his past. Of happier times. Of the bad. Of the fellow mice lost to time. Of the ponies in the present. Of Celestia. Of Spike.

Of himself.

He patted Porthos on the shoulder. “We are going to beat the King at his own game.”

Porthos looked up. “How are we going to do that? We don’t have our shards, and--”

Hauteclaire shook his head. “Porthos, I’d already planned ahead once I first suspected this would happen. I’m improvising a bit as I go along, but I’m going to need your trust. Now, listen to me, my brothers--” Porthos flinched in shock at Hauteclaire using the title “brother” for him “--here is what we’re going to do: We are going to tell the ponies about the game: its rules, why we play it, and how to beat the King. Not just in the game, but for real. Then we’ll get back in the castle, swap ourselves out with our doubles, free Godiva, then stop this game once and for all.”

“How are we going to do that?” said Porthos.

“Leave that to me.” Hauteclaire pulled a roll of duct tape off a shelf and stuck it under his herigaut. “Now, if you two will kindly take your ‘prisoner’ to Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

“The Mouse King’s castle is gone, princess!” shouted a pegasus scout. “It’s no longer at the edge of Canterlot!”

With the disappearance of the court, Twilight wasted no time scrambling together a plan to get the Mouse King. She must have been numb from the shock; it would only be a matter of time before the numbness wore off and her mind would turn back to the limp, headless body of her former mentor.

A shout came in from the throne room entrance. Two guards threw Hauteclaire onto the floor. “We’ve captured this one! He says he’ll--”

Before Porthos could even finish, Rainbow Dash and several others were on top of him. Hauteclaire knew they were upset, but he could have done without the kicking. The spitting was uncalled for.

An unseen force grabbed him by his tail, dragged him from under the dogpile, and slammed him against a wall. A purple, crystal-like structure encased him and restricted his movements. In front of him stood Twilight. Her horn glowed, and she glared at him. She bared her teeth.

“Hauteclaire,” she said, “you have some explaining to do. No one threatens my friends or Equestria.”

Author's Note

The adventure continues in the second half of "A Game of Kings." Keep your eyes out for

If you've gotten this far, you have made me the happiest person on this site. This story has been a labor of love that has taken almost a whole year to complete. (105 pages of notes, 327 pages of story, and 124,490 words.) Please leave your thoughts of the story below and have a wonderful holiday!

Stay awesome, everypony!

Fun fact: The "Mice of the Isle" anthem is based off of "Men of Harlech."

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