“Is that a castle made entirely out of crystals?”

“I know, right? It’s so pretty!”

“It looks more like a poorly designed dollhouse.”

Hauteclaire, Godiva, the Mouse King, their guide, a yellow pegasus with butterflies on her rump that were not taffy stains, and her two friends were standing in front of a castle. Apparently, it was made out of crystals. There was also an entire town of gawking ponies and guards that kept their distance a safe “way the hell over there.”

“Wow. This place makes our new fortress look like just another hole in the wall,” the King said and nudged the pegasus with his elbow. “Eh? Get it? ‘Hole in the wall’? Because we’re mice!” The pony turned her head and smiled . Let’s see her do that when she can actually understand the bastard.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Hauteclaire said with an exasperated sigh.

“Why are you in such a hurry, Haut? Can’t wait to understand all the things they say about you?” the King said.

It wasn’t even lunch and Haut was getting close to his daily limit. “Oh, I’m sure they are going to be singing praises about you, Your Highness.” He didn’t even try to hide his sarcasm. “I’m just tired of talking in crayon.”

After the King’s bombastic and unnecessary display of power, Godiva ‘got’ the pony they came for. And by ‘got,’ she ran up to her, pointed to her own face, and shouted “Remember me? I’m the mouse you talked to, remember? I petted you on the ear, remember?” over and over. The poor thing either remembered Godiva or it was just too terrified to fly away. Probably both.

After fruitlessly yapping away at the pony, Godiva produced some crayons and paper and started to draw. Showing the pony a few pictures seemed to work, as the fear in its face began to morph into a more curious expression. Godiva, with quite a bit of help from Hauteclaire and his dirt-molding ability, was now able to communicate with the pony. Even so, it was very hard to say “We come in peace” with pictures and sculptures after all that had happened. Especially with crayons and dirt.

The pony took up a crayon and drew, too. And wouldn’t you know it, she used her mouth. Godiva was on a roll today. After a bit of drawing, deciphering, more drawing, and more deciphering, an agreement was worked out: she would help them find the nearest library and tell everyone to back off if the mice “unfreeze” the guards and her friends.

It would have been a lot faster had the King used his powers to just make the pony see a dream or an illusion or something, but he insisted that this was good critical- and analytical-thinking practice. Still didn’t stop him from dumping on all of Hauteclaire’s drawings. Thank goodness it was only figuratively.

This time.

Well, as soon as the ponies were free, they all kept their distance but kept following the group. The bouncing ball of cotton candy and the marshmallow were the only ones to stay close to the pegasus (a condition of the agreement) as the group made its way to their destination.

And the pink one yapped the whole way.

And it took Hauteclaire’s crayons.

The mice and the ponies walked through the doors of the new castle and were greeted by the many wide-eyed stares of those inside. They just watched silently as the mice, their guide, and her friends walked up many stairs and through several halls.

When they arrived at a particular set of doors in the middle of a long hallway lined with flower vases, the yellow pony made a gesture with her hoof, signalling that their destination lay behind these doors. She opened the doors up; beyond them were several rows of of book shelves and a few tables covered with what Hauteclaire considered to be an abysmal quantity of books in conditions ranging from poor to ruined. If this was a library, hopefully it was a temporary one.

Wait, they passed what looked like the burned remains of a building on the way here. Perhaps this was a temporary library and the old one had burnt down. Well, hopefully there was enough here for the King to do what he came to do.

Inside the library were more ponies, but the Mouse King would have none of that. What he was going to do required concentration, so with a flick of his wrist, all of the ponies in the room floated inches above the ground and left single file out the door and down the hallway. The guide and her friends didn’t seem too pleased about that.

The Mouse King, Godiva, and the pegasus walked in through the door. As part of the agreement, the yellow pony was to read aloud to the King so he could hear how their spoken language was represented on paper. After he had heard plenty, he would be able to do the rest of the learning on his own.

Hauteclaire followed with the other two ponies behind him, but was stopped with a push to the chest. “What do you think you’re doing?” the Mouse King asked. “I don’t want to be disturbed. You make sure no one comes in, got it?” He slammed the door in Hauteclaire’s face.

Miffed, Hauteclaire turned around and looked at the two ponies behind him. The white one had a face mixed with anger and confusion, while the pink one’s eyes inflated like balloons and were misty. “He has that effect on you,” Hauteclaire said with a scowl as he walked to the side of the door, crossed his arms, and leaned against the wall.

The white one tried to open the door and Hauteclaire would have stopped her, but he wanted to see someone else suffer for once. The white pony opened the door and could only get a word in before she was pushed back by an invisible force and the door was slammed in her face. After regaining her balance and fixing her hair, the white pony turned to the pink one and whined, one of her hooves pointed at the door and then to Hauteclaire, before taking off down the hallway and passing the many foolishly brave ponies that had taken up camp to rubberneck from the end of the hallway.

Bunch of gawkers, huh? Hauteclaire didn’t hesitate to take a step forward and snarl, the ponies at the end of the hallway jumped and screamed. Stupid, jumpy ponies. Does Godiva really think that these ponies would want to be our friends?

He turned his head back the other way and saw the pink pony was now lying on the floor, busy drawing with crayons. At least it wasn’t chattering any more. Hauteclaire took a moment to look at the hallway he was in. There were banners and vases, all of which were adorned with a purple and white insignia of some sort made up of several six-pointed stars. He leaned back again and focused his eyes on a spot beyond the wall in front of him as he just stewed in his own thoughts. The only sounds that could be heard were the muffled voices through the door, whispers down the hallway, and the pink pony’s humming.

After a few good, quiet minutes, the pitter-patter of a plump purple and green lizard passing quickly in front of Hauteclaire had snapped him back to the real world. He turned his head and saw the lizard eyeing him carefully as it reached a claw towards the door.

That one time with the white pony was excusable since the King didn’t have time to start his private lesson yet, but if the door was opened now, Hauteclaire was going to be punished, and he wasn’t about to find out what part of his anatomy the King would cut off and hide this time. With a quick shove, the little scaly beast fell on its tail. “You shall not pass, puny wyrm.”

The lizard picked itself up, pointed a claw at Hauteclaire, and spewed forth what was probably some foul insult. But Hauteclaire didn’t care. “Go slink under a rock.”

The lizard tried to make another charge for the door, but the pink pony stopped it and explained the situation to it. Or that was what Hauteclaire thought the pony was doing. He was so tired of not understanding what was being said around him.

If they had stuck with the game, the King would have “cheated” by plundering the minds of random victims, but he was too busy having fun scaring the pegasi to do that this time around before the game was called off. No one was hurt in the process, and the mice came out with a complete understanding of the language. This was so they’d start on an “even linguistic playing field” like they would when they got back home. Most of the time, however, the natives spoke one of the many languages the mice already knew. Pretty weird, but Hauteclaire never thought much of it after the fortieth or fiftieth time. But since there was no game, the King fell back to his stupid habits of doing things the hard way, because he could. “What reason is there for us to use magic for everything? We should learn to not rely on magic and to rely on ourselves because you never know when magic will be taken away,” he always said before the exile. It still didn’t stop him from using it for over-dramatic displays. Or learn the language of the ponies for that matter. He probably did it just to irritate Hauteclaire.

Well, the little lizard seemed to learn that it was not getting into the library anytime soon and started stomping down the hallway. It stopped and turned to Hauteclaire with a rotten look on its face. It was probably friends with that white unicorn from earlier and came with revenge on the mind or something. Well, whatever the reason, it made a big mistake: it stuck its tongue out at Hauteclaire and blew a puff of fire.

Oh, you’re not getting away with that. Time for you to learn some respect.

Hauteclaire turned to the lizard, took a deep breath, and released a huge burst of pent-up energy with a single puff. “POW!”

The energy rushed forth. Vases toppled and banners ripped from the wall. The lizard was sent tumbling backwards, and the gawkers further back had their manes tussled. When the lizard got up, it had a look of absolute terror on its face and ran off. Probably off to tell its mother. Little whelp.

A poke in his side brought Hauteclaire’s attention to the pink pony that was standing behind him. A very angry look was on its face, and it was yelling at him. Hauteclaire didn’t care. He was still reveling in his joy of wiping the floor with the smug reptile.

Hauteclaire just stood there as the pony continued to poke and yell at him before going down the hallway after the lizard, which was also now void of previous gawkers. If Godiva found out he just scared away and pissed off her new friend’s friends, he was going to get a mace to the face. More than once. He could hear her chattering wildly in the library, most likely trying to calm the pegasus after the commotion he caused. Hopefully, the chaos would have entertained the King more than it had upset him.

Hauteclaire resumed his sulking in the now-empty hallway. The joy of proving himself superior to dragon and pony didn’t stay with him very long as he began to get lost in thought again. He was alone. Just like he had always been before and after the exile. Back at home he was always ostracized for his love of culture and class. Well, he did have Philipides back then, but no one liked him. Not even Hauteclaire. Now he was stuck with the Mouse King, Porthos, Godiva, and Marcus for all eternity, and each one of them lorded over him in one way or another. And none of them had any class. He hated it.

As Hauteclaire’s eyes wandered the hallway, they came upon the drawing left behind by the chatty pink pony. His curiosity was piqued when he saw what was on the paper. He picked it up to get a better look.

The drawing was crude in technique, but still clear enough for Hauteclaire to make out its contents. On it were Hauteclaire and the pink pony. Both of them were smiling or laughing, and they appeared to be jumping for joy. Or in space. There were no shadows, how could he tell? Hearts and rainbows littered the background, and in the top center were several words. This was definitely a language they had forgotten, but none of it came back to him. He folded up the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. Once he deciphered the words’ meaning, he was going to think of how to next deal with the pink pony. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this pony was mocking him, especially since his depiction was so comical.

He leaned back to the wall and just waited as time passed. What little of the pegasus’ and the King’s voices that slipped through the doors started to lull him to sleep. After a while of absolutely nothing else, something occurred that caught his attention.

Down the hall, armored ponies stationed themselves and stood there unmoving. Every once in a while, a new guard would come and switch out with one of them. From the other side of the hall came a growing rumble of voices. Hauteclaire kept his eyes on the guards as he moved towards the other end of the hall and the rumble. Around the corner was an open window he wasn’t aware of. It would have been nice to have had something to stare at other than a blank wall for the past lord knows how long. He had a magnificent view of the town and the castle grounds, which was now covered completely with ponies. Lots and lots of armored ponies. Farther out were many more ponies that didn’t wear armor.

Farther beyond that was some kind of colorful serpent with legs that was sitting in a chair snacking on something. What kind of creature was that?

Accepting what he was seeing as a trick of the eye, he turned his attention to the sea of gold and white that now surrounded the castle. Godiva is not going to be happy if we have to fight our way out.

At that moment, the sea parted and made way for several ponies. Five of them. The five ponies, which included the pink pony and white pony from earlier, made their way into the front doors. It seemed like that ball of cotton candy and the marshmallow were friends with the big cheese around here. If Hauteclaire wasn’t careful, things could get really ugly. He returned back to the door and awaited what was to come.

In about a minute, the guards at the end of the hallway took a few steps back, turned, and saluted. Around the corner came the five ponies Hauteclaire had seen from the window. At the head was a purple pony with both wings and a horn. Flying next to her was a multi-colored pegasus, and on her other side was a regular pony with a cowboy hat. The marshmallow unicorn and cotton candy pony were right behind them. They all bore witness to the state of the hallway. It only made them all looked even more pissed than when they first came into the hall.

Hauteclaire was astounded by the presence of the purple hybrid. Never had he heard of such a creature that was a combination of unicorn and pegasus. It was an all-in-one mythical-horse creature. There had to be a word for it, like all-in-one-icorn. Screw it. He’d call it an alicorn.

The alicorn looked walked up to him and stopped. The ponies behind her were whispering. The rainbow-maned pegasus that kept to the air, however, wasn’t so concerned to hide its voice, which was dripping with hostility. Hauteclaire was ready for a fight. His hand at the ready to draw his dagger. Should any one of them make a sudden move, he had already planned out how he would take each one of them out. Each plan involved him gloating over them at the end. These ponies were about to learn the hard way not to underestimate Hauteclaire.

Hauteclaire was snapped out of his power fantasy by a gesture from the alicorn. It pointed to the door and seemed to be making a request. It seemed to be wanting to gain entry and gain an audience with the Mouse King. Hauteclaire studied her over and came to a not-so-surprising realization.

The mark on the alicorn matched that on the banners and vases that could be found all over the castle. This must be the Lady of the castle. She wanted to speak with the Mouse King? Fine. Let her.

Hauteclaire turned to the door and knocked two times without taking his eyes off the visitors. Instead of having the Mouse King answer in a booming voice like Hauteclaire expected, Godiva poked her head out the door. “Hey! Good timing. The King just finished with his lesson and…”

She cut herself off when she saw the ponies that stood in the hallway. “HEY! I remember you! You were there with Fluttershy at the building I crashed into! How’ya doing?” The ponies’ reaction to Godiva’s appearance wasn’t entirely positive, but it did seem to have a more positive impact than Hauteclaire’s presence. The mention at the name Fluttershy also seemed to throw them off their pissy attitudes.

“That pegasus is named Fluttershy? How did you know that?” Hauteclaire asked, stifling a laugh provoked by the weird name.

Godiva smiled widely and turned to Hauteclaire. “She told me! Well, she told the Mouse King and he told me. He’s just finished listening to her read and has just started his self-study. He is ready to let her go. She is just so cute! Did you know she likes animals? She is just so darling! I could eat her up. I gave her a nickname, would you like to hear it?”

“No, I…”

“It’s Flutterbutter! You know, because she’s yellow like butter. Like a big stick of butter! With wings! Oh! Her friends are cute, too! Did you know she…”

Hauteclaire cut short Godiva’s impassioned yammering and gestured to the ponies waiting. “Ok, Godiva, that’s enough! Fluttershy’s friends are here to see her.”

Godiva looked at the ponies in the hall. “Oh! That must be the princess!” She opened the doors widely and beckoned them in.

The ponies slowly approached the door, their eyes constantly shifting from mouse to mouse. Fluttershy came running out the door to greet them. The ponies nuzzled and hugged each other. Their reunion was so full of emotion that it made Godiva “aaaawww” and Hauteclaire gag. After their heartfelt display, the ponies barraged Fluttershy with questions while constantly giving glances at Hauteclaire and Godiva. The more Fluttershy spoke, the more the other ponies seemed to lower their defenses.

Hauteclaire leaned over to Godiva. “What was that about a princess?”

“Oh yeah! Fluttershy is friends with the princess! She is the pegacorn!”

“Pegacorn? That’s a stupid name.”

*BONK*

Hauteclaire was bopped on the head by Godiva. “It’s not stupid! You’re stupid.”

The bonk on the head only made the ponies in the room put their guards back up. So much for calming them down.

Hauteclaire watched the ponies slowly go back into their Q&A session with Fluttershy as he rubbed his head. So, horns and wings are status symbols? Or are they different races that are ruled by a class determined by birth? Are the ponies without either inferior in some way?

A cough came and interrupted both Hauteclaire’s thinking and the ponies’ conversation. There at the brim of their circle stood the Mouse King. Looking up at all the ponies (since the top of his head only came up to their eye level), he began to speak in their tongue without his usual style of big gestures and fluctuating volume. Instead he spoke like a perfect diplomat: slowly, with a few slight gestures to accentuate the really important parts. Hauteclaire was absolutely amazed at how quickly the King could make a complete 180 from acting like a kid with too much power to being a respectable diplomat. But then of course, Hauteclaire had lived with him for hundreds of years and knew full well that the King was fully capable of being tolerable. He just didn’t do it around Hauteclaire.

The King gestured with an upwards turned palm in the direction of Hauteclaire and Godiva, and the King and all the ponies laughed. Respectable diplomat, my ass.

The King turned back to the ponies, held out a hand, and asked a question. The ponies’ response was one of confusion, but Hauteclaire knew what was coming. He was going to pay Fluttershy for her service in his own special way. “No good deed should go unrewarded,” he would always say.

The white unicorn summoned up a bag with magic and pulled out a single gold coin and placed it into the King’s hand.

So the unicorns are capable of magic by using their horns? They must be the upper class.

The King held the coin up to his face and squinted as he studied every detail about it. He reached behind his back and under his cape and pulled out a sock.

Oh great. He’s going with the sock trick. That one NEVER gets old.

The King held up the sock and showed it to the ponies. He turned it inside out and even beat it against the table next to him. After thoroughly proving the sock had nothing special about it, he dropped the coin into it and handed it to the rainbow-maned pegasus, who was still in flight. Didn’t she ever get tired?

Well, she listened to the King’s instructions with a dumbfounded look on her face. The pegasi probably aren’t the smart ones.After a bit of leading on to follow said instructions, she shook the sock around like crazy. Slowly the sock became bigger in her mouth and a growing jingle came from within it. When the pegasus stopped, she let go of the sock and it fell to the floor, fat with coin and tearing at the seams with a huge thump. The ponies were left flabbergasted. Where did all this money come from? Well, if they really knew, odds were the Princess would be furious. She didn’t seem too happy with the King being able to summon coins out of thin air either way.

With that, the King excused himself and went back to the book pile that was on the table next to them. The ponies went out to the hallway, sock full of coins in tow. Hauteclaire followed them and went to shut the door behind him. It was only for a moment, but it caught his eye. On top of one of the bookshelves was an eye, sitting on a chair and eating popcorn. When it saw him, it vanished. What the hell was that?

Hauteclaire closed the door and turned back to the hallway. The ponies were now huddled together and whispering. Suddenly, the rumble of voices outside exploded into a large clamoring. A guard came running down the hallway and said a few words. The alicorn’s face betrayed some inner feelings of fear for only a brief second, but it was quick enough for Hauteclaire to notice before a flash of purple light made all of the ponies in the hall vanish.

And they are capable of teleportation, too. Did Godiva lie about their magical powers,too?

Left alone in the hallway, again, Hauteclaire leaned against the wall and drifted off into his own mind.

Another couple of minutes had passed and the crowd outside was still loud as ever. Whatever was happening out there must have been some big stuff. Perhaps Porthos, in a drunken rage, had started a rampage through the town. That would have been fun to watch. Hauteclaire had the best seat in the house... castle... dollhouse, whatever just down the hall.

There was the scuffle of hooves down the hallway, and Hauteclaire turned to see what was going on. The guards had dropped to one knee like they did with the Mouse King, but Hauteclaire wasn’t ready for what came next.

It was no Porthos, but it was almost as tall as him. Another alicorn, pure white with a mane and tail that flowed even though there was no wind. Its poise, its stature, its movements, all of them conveyed a message of royalty and respect, something Hauteclaire hadn’t seen in a long time. It slowly made its way down the hallway and was escorted by a few guards, the princess, and Fluttershy from earlier.

Hauteclaire could feel himself start to shake. Not out of fear. Oh no, he wasn’t scared. Not at all. It was the power this being exuded. He wanted it terribly. This is what a person of culture should look like. This is what a person of respect should feel like. Had they played the game, Hauteclaire would have studied her to no end.

This alicorn was much bigger than the ponies he had seen before. The ponies they had met before were mostly the same height as Godiva, a few stallions were as tall as Hauteclaire, and everyone of them was taller than the Mouse King by a good few inches or more, but this alicorn loomed over all three of them in stature and presence.

Ok, so he might have been a little intimidated, but this was still a pony, and he was about to show this pony that he was not to be trifled with or looked down upon.

The stopping of pony hoof clip-clops snapped him out of his thoughts. Only a few yards before him stood the being that caused him so much confusion. It wore a dainty smile on its face that in no way felt fake. Its eyes bore into his soul with warmth. Oh lord, how does she do that? He puffed out his chest and stood directly in front of the doors and crossed his arms. The alicorn didn’t budge or even blink at this display.

Hauteclaire struggled to break free from the hold the alicorn’s eyes had on his, and he sized her up. Tilting to one side, he looked at her flank. What he saw excited and delighted him to the point he almost felt giddy.

There, on this alicorn’s rump, was a sun. Just like his mask. Curvy rays and all. The only difference was that his mask was only a third of a sun with an eye molded in it. Her mark was a complete, unadulterated sun. The alicorn and he had something in common. How? It was wonderful and scary at the same time.

A guard stepped forward and barked an order.

Big mistake.

Hauteclaire quickly turned to the guard, took a big breath and… held it.

He wanted to smack this grunt down so badly, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Letting out his breath slowly, he turned and knocked on the door twice. Godiva poked her head out. “Hey! Perfect timing! The King just finished his studies and is taking his nap. He says you should…” She saw the alicorn in the hallway.

She started squealing uncontrollably and leapt towards the alicorn. The guards quickly crossed their spears and magic-grabbed Godiva by the tail. She fell face first into the ground and looked up. “Ow! That hurt. What’s the big deal? I want to pet the pretty pony.”

“Godiva, settle down. That’s the Queen.” I think.

“The Queen! Oooh!”

Godiva quickly hopped back up on her two feet. The guards readied their spears again. They were taken by surprise when Godiva didn’t attempt a second assault, but instead curtsied. “Your Majesty!”

Godiva turned to Hauteclaire. “Well, what are you waiting for? Open the doors, Hauty! Let her in!”

Bossy Godiva. Hauteclaire opened the doors, and Godiva ran in and beckoned the queen and her entourage to follow. The Mouse King greeted them in all his glory.

He was face down in an open book. His mouth was open and his tongue lolled out. Loud snores roared all over the room. A puddle of drool had ruined the book that he was reading.

Hauteclaire had never been so embarrassed by his King in all his life. This shining beacon of regality presented itself before Hauteclaire, and he had to show her the joke he served. If there was a god out there, it hated Hauteclaire.

The sun queen turned to the princess and started talking. Oh lord, even her voice was regal. Hauteclaire could do nothing but just stare. His mouth was losing its fight with gravity. On the other side of the room was Godiva, dancing in place and saying, “ohmygodohmygodohmygod” over and over again. The guards had their eyes trained on both of them the whole time.

After a couple of minutes of discussion between the queen, the princess, and Fluttershy, the queen left. Hauteclaire hated to see her go, but damn it all she looked good doing it. Even her exits were regal. Left behind was the princess and Fluttershy. They looked at each other and started to talk. Oh, if only the King had already taught Hauteclaire how to speak pony already. Hauteclaire turned to Godiva and asked, “Ok, what were you telling me before you got distracted again?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah! The King says you need to carry him back to the castle.”

Hauteclaire flinched. “What? Why me? You do it. You’re the fast runner.”

Godiva shook her head. “Nuh-uh. He told me I was to guard you as you carried him back.”

“That doesn’t make sense! If you carried him back, there would be no danger. You’d have him there faster than you can say pony three times.”

“PONYPONYPONY! Hmmm… Nope! Don’t think so. I probably could if it was seven times.”

Hauteclaire facepalmed. “Whatever, let’s.. let’s just go.”

The King was so good at humiliating Hauteclaire he could do it in his sleep. And he did. Hauteclaire fumbled with the King as he tried to make his way through the town as the princess, Fluttershy, their friends, their guards, and all of the town watched him.

Hauteclaire got so tired of hoisting the fat king around that he dropped him unceremoniously, formed a wheelbarrow out of dirt, plopped the King face-first into it, and wheeled him to the forest with his big posterior sticking up in the air. The whole town whispered behind his back, and he could hear it. It didn’t matter whether it was about the King or him. Either way, Hauteclaire had turned into a laughingstock.

And laugh many of them did. Whatever had happened, much of the fear had disappeared as the gap between gawker and mouse slowly faded away. If Hauteclaire had to choose between playing the game or be a laughingstock of a town, he’d choose the former. At least then he’d have an excuse to get away from the King, as the King was usually too busy playing to torment Hauteclaire.

Godiva was absolutely oblivious to all of this and was enjoying all of the ponies’ attention. And when they laughed, she laughed. Poor girl was so enveloped in her fantasies that she couldn’t tell the ponies were laughing at her and not with her.

Hauteclaire found some relief when they came to the forest border. Most of the ponies buggered off as they came close, and the rest of the town dared not to follow once Hauteclaire made his way into the trees. The little parade of shame continued through the forest without its audience.

The whole time Godiva tried to speak what little she had picked up from the Mouse King’s lessons. While she wasn’t able to get very far with any of the conversations, she was slowly winning them over. The pink one seemed to be having the most fun with Godiva. Oh lord, they even sounded alike.

When they finally got to the bridge that led to the castle, Godiva picked up the King, ran him across, and started shouting up to the castle for Marcus. Hauteclaire reached the other end of the bridge and was somewhat pleased with what he saw. On the ground was Porthos. The giant brown grey rat was lying face down, the amethysts that dotted his flesh shined in the sun. His indigo gambeson and blood red tabard were covered with hoof prints. Around him were a bunch of craters, bits of apple pie, and a half empty wine bottle. There was an arrow sticking out of the top of his head that pinned his indigo-and-red-striped skullcap to his head; its long, thin, indigo feather blowing in the light breeze like a flimsy grave marker. Hauteclaire laughed so hard that his sides hurt.

To see Porthos in such a state never would never cease to amuse Hauteclaire. The big brute Porthos was practically larger than life in any way possible. His stature, movements, and booming voice all had a largeness to them (well, except for his ears. They were tiny). Porthos towered over the entire court and was more than twice as tall as Hauteclaire; even on his stomach he was almost as tall as Hauteclaire. His arms were bigger around than Hauteclaire’s body; his nose was thicker than Hauteclaire’s neck, and it drooped down under its own enormous weight; his big, black bushy eyebrows expressed Porthos’ inner thoughts without a filter and always did so in a big way. His movements, while big like the King’s, weren’t done in exaggerated grandeur, but in clumsy swings and sways. The way his enormous hands, with their sausage-like fingers, swayed as he walked on his stubby tree trunks he called legs and showed no grace at all. No vase was safe when he walked down hallways, and no drink wouldn’t end up on his tabard. The sight of this mighty beast humbled by little ponies (even with some help from Marcus) was something Hauteclaire would treasure forever.

He turned around and wiped a few tears out of his eyes. The ponies behind him failed to see the humor in this.

“Marc-marc! We’re back! I can smell the apple pies! They smell goooooooood!”

A grey head covered in an oversized hat poked over the edge. “Oh, you’re back, you are? I’ll be down in a tic, I will.” And with that he jumped.

Gasps of shock came from the ponies behind them. They weren’t necessary. Marcus jumped from those heights all the time. When he landed, Marcus corrected his brown vest and adjusted the sleeves to his green shirt.

Unlike Porthos, the King, or Godiva, Marcus hardly moved, and when he did, it was always cool, calm, and calculated. The massive, three-pointed hat that he wore over his head covered up his eyes and rested on the bridge of his long nose and weighed down his large round ears, completely hiding any expression except for his small, permanent smile. He only stood a few inches taller than Hauteclaire, but he always gave off a feeling of being bigger, better, smugger than he really was. Even that quiet, sing-song voice of his had a presence that Hauteclaire couldn’t quite stand.

Marcus turned to see the King lying on the floor and snoring. “So he has learned the language, he has?”

“Yup! When he wakes up, we’ll be able to speak with Fluttershy!”

Fluttershy’s ears perked up at her name.

Marcus tilted his head. “Who?”

“The yellow pegasus behind us,” said Hauteclaire.

Marcus looked back, saw Fluttershy, and waved. “Hello, Fluttershy. It’s very nice to meet you, it is.” The pegasus ducked behind one of her friends and returned the wave very timidly.

Marcus turned to Godiva. She handed him the King. He held the fat imp in his arms, and jumped back up to the castle. “Ooh”s and “aah”s came from behind. Marcus jumped back down again and gave Godiva a piggy back ride up as well. Marcus jumped back down and offered Hauteclaire a lift back to the castle.

“I don’t need your help, brother. I am more than capable of getting up myself.”

Marcus shrugged and prepared to jump back up. Hauteclaire touched Marcus on the shoulder. “But before you go, brother. What happened to our dear Porkos?”

Marcus turned back to Hauteclaire. “He, umm, got a little excited, he did.”

“You mean he got drunk and attacked someone again?” Hauteclaire said with a grin.

“Yeah. He did. He actually attacked some of your new friends there, he did. The purple one, the flying one, and the one in the hat. I had to, uh, calm him down, I had to.”

Hauteclaire turned to look at the ponies behind them. Certain enough, the three that Marcus pointed out kept a more-than-watchful eye on the massive lump before them.

Hauteclaire laughed. And I thought today was going to be just another bad day. I can’t wait to rub this in his face.

Marcus waved to the ponies one last time, turned and jumped back up to the castle. Now it was Hauteclaire’s turn to show off.

Concentrating on the ground before him, he willed it to move. Dirt began to spiral up like a snake. It grew and grew until the head of the snake was even with the edge of the floating castle grounds. The back of the snake became more rigid as steps and an elegant handrail formed. When it was finished, he turned to the ponies, stuck his nose up, and blew out a puff of air, as if to say what he did was nothing. The reaction he got from the ponies wasn’t as great as it was with Marcus, but it still was enough to boost his ego.

Hauteclaire walked up the stairs until an idea hit him. He walked back down the stairs and gave a hard kick to Porthos’ side. Porthos started to move and moan. Hauteclaire ran up the stairs.

*Zap*

“Ow! You made that hurt on purpose!”

“Oh, stop your whining, Haut. Now you speak horsy. Are you never satisfied?”

Hauteclaire pulled the King’s finger out of his ear. “I’d be much happier if you had bothered to wash your hands before sticking your fingers in my ears.”

The Mouse King stared wide-eyed at Hauteclaire; both of his hands were already full again with apple pie. “And stop eating Marcus’ wonderful apple pies? NEVER!” He jammed another piece into his mouth.

No sooner had the King woken up from his “processing nap” than he ran off into the kitchen and started to scarf down pies. It took a lot of pleading from Godiva for him to put down the pies long enough to teach them all horsy. It took him five seconds. No joke.

Godiva was eating pies quickly too, but it wasn’t because of gluttony; it was what she was planning to do afterwards. “I can’t wait to write Flutterbutter and the princess a letter! Oh! What should I say? What should I say?”

Marcus put down his fork. “I believe we should write it together, we should. That way we can all give our best impressions, we can. We’ve already shot ourselves in the foot so many times as it is, we have.”

Godiva swallowed what was in her mouth without chewing. She started to gag, but Porthos, now sans-arrow, gave her a few pats on the back. “Whad’ya mean? The ponies love us!”

Hauteclaire saw it, and he couldn’t hold it anymore. Porthos was already looking at him, sweating. His eyes tried to be threatening, but Hauteclaire could see the fear behind them. Payback’s a bitch, Porthos.

“Porthos attacked the princess.”

Porthos’ hands were already around Hauteclaire’s neck, but it was too late and he knew it.

“HE DID WHAT?!”

What followed was the best dinner show Hauteclaire had ever seen. Although it was lunch. Ah, it didn’t matter. Porthos got the snot beaten out of him by a mouse one-fifth his size. Apple pie could never taste as good as this.

When the show was over, Hauteclaire remembered the drawing he had picked up. He took it out and unfolded it. The words written on it were instantly legible and recognizable.

“Let’s be friends! - Pinkie Pie to Mr. Sun”

Huh. Maybe Godiva wasn’t lying after all.

Author's Note

Next time on the exciting-est, thrilling-est, dramatic-est, heart-stopping-est, coolest-est AGOKAPPP:

The court writes a letter and somebody dies. No biggie.