Joffrey Baratheon in Equestria (A Create Your Own Adventure Story)

Chapters

You wake up.
You decide to make nice with the horsies. For now.
"Twilight Sparkle, I choose you!"
You go to the library.
You slap Celestia like a beeeyatch!
Kings have needs, too.
You intervene.

You wake up.

Author's Note

So here's how the game works. The story is told in the second person, yet "you" doesn't necessarily mean you, the reader. Rather, it means the audience as a whole, acting on the world through the character of Joffrey. You can, however, have sway over Joffrey's behavior in the story.

As a Create Your Own Adventure story, you choose what Joffrey does. Just leave a comment telling me what you want Joffrey to do at the end of the chapter. I will look back at the comments section in a few days, and whichever comment gets upvoted the most will be the action Joffrey takes. Then, a new chapter is written, and the comments/voting starts over again on the new chapter. Downvotes are not taken into account, as they over-complicate things, so please don't ask about them.

There's really only one rule: You cannot make Joffrey willingly take any action that would directly result in harm upon his own person. Enforcement of this rule can be relaxed under certain circumstances, e.g. if you're playing a wounded gazelle gambit, or (after considerable character development) you want to sacrifice for somepony you love. This rule is mostly just there so we don't have people telling Joffrey to kill himself because they hate Joffrey. This does not apply to making decisions that are less-than-optimal for roleplaying purposes, as we all know Joffrey isn't the smartest guy around.

Now, please enjoy the story, and have fun playing the game.

You wake up.

A blur enshrouds your vision as you open your eyes and let out a groan. You feel your spine resting on a feather mattress, and a warm woolen blanket draped over you from the neck down. Chattering meets your ears from all sides, muffled by a haze from which you have yet to recover. Your head aches; your muscles are numb. Once you take a deep breath, you slide your hand down your chest and belly, feeling the regal outfit adorning them as you slide your fingers down to your waist, then wrap them around the leather-enameled hilt of Widow’s Wail, your Valyrian steel longsword which was gifted to you on your wedding day by your grandfather, Tywin Lannister, the Hand of the King. The Hand of Joffrey Baratheon, lawful King and rightful ruler of Westeros. Your Hand.

At least, before a goblet of wicked wine took it all away from you in an instant.

You attempt to slide Widow’s Wail out of her scabbard, yet her blade barely touches the air when a torrent of icy water falls on your face. You grunt as the water drenches your clothes and hair. The wet chill clings onto your attire, yet it also banishes the haze from your senses. You take another look around you, to find six equines surrounding you around the bed on which you laid, the purple one at your feet looking down at you with a bucket hovering over you in her magical grip, and a contemptuous scowl stretched across her face. You look left, seeing a white equine with a horn and a purple mane, and an orange equine with a straw hat. You look right, seeing two winged equines, one blue and one yellow. A groan escapes you as you lay a palm across your cheek and rub it.

You look up to the purple equine. “Who are you? Where am I?”

The equine’s scowl grows. “You don’t get to ask questions around here, Joffrey.” A beat. “But if you must know, I am Princess Twilight Sparkle. You are in a guest quarters of the Friendship Castle in Ponyville.”

“Why am I here?”

“Hm. Why do you think, Joffrey? Why do you think you’re over here?”

“Because the Seven wanted to fuck with me, I imagine.”

The Princess spits on you. “Language!”

Your lips contort themselves to an angry grimace as the horse’s spittle insults you with its sticky consistency and garlic-like scent on your face. That bitch spat on me! The Lord of the Seven Kingdoms! I’ll show this stupid fucking horse. I’ll show her her own beating heart! You throw the woolen blanket off your body with a mighty push, then bolt up out of the bed and up on your feet as you pull Widow’s Wail from her scabbard in a single blinding motion. Now standing with the eyes of the impudent so-called Princess just slightly above your waist, you wind your body with tightened muscles, aiming the point of Widow’s Wail down at one of her forelegs to drive it through her joint before you go to cut her open. But the Princess lights her horn. At the appendage’s glow, your movements are no longer your own. Although the rage continues to boil in your gut, you can only watch as your body points Widow’s Wail back down at her scabbard before easing her back in. Once her crossguard meets her scabbard’s outer rim, you attempt to pull the sword back out, but nothing budges. The Princess then releases the hold she had on your body, yet your sword is still stuck. You let out a defeated sigh, then look down to the Princess with furrowed brows.

“What was that for, anyway? That’s no way for a so-called Princess to behave. I demand to see your king.”

Twilight scoffs. “We know what you did back in Westeros, Joffrey. It’s disgusting.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because Princess Cele-“

“I don’t care about some damned court harpy! Your king. I want to see your king!”

Twilight stubs her nose up at you. How dare a petty princess stub her nose at a king. “We don’t have kings, Joffrey. Nor queens, nor emperors. We only have Princesses here, Joffrey.”

You let out some cross between a chortle and a scoff. “That's stupid. What sort of kingdom has no king?”

“A better kingdom than yours.”

You rush the air into your chest through your nostrils, then let out a long breath in an attempt to expel some of your anger. It works. “Why am I here? At least tell me this, ‘Princess’. If you know about me and hate me so goddamned much for it, then why in hell would you bring me here from my rightful kingdom to this shitty horse place?”

The Princess blinks. “Because, Joffrey. Princess Celestia — our ruler — wanted to test the limits of the magic of friendship. You see, Joffrey, we here in Equestria don’t believe in punishment. We find it cruel and vindictive. Therefore, we take it upon ourselves to reform and rehabilitate the criminals of the world. To show them a more righteous path. In her wisdom, Her Royal Highness has decided to bring you over here simply because you are the most vile and despicable being in the multiverse. You are a sadist. A liar. A warmonger. A coward, and an idiot. All at the tender age of thirteen. You, Joffrey, are utterly evil by nature. This, in her mind, makes you an ideal candidate for testing friendship’s limits. Let me put it simply. We want to reform you and make you into a good person. That’s why you’re here. So you can become a good person.”

You roll your eyes, sighing and shaking your head as you do. “That is some of the most ridiculous crap I have ever heard.”

“I figured you’d say that.” A beat. “Which is why you have a second option. The royal dungeon. It’s your choice, Joffrey. You either become my student in the magic of friendship, or you rot in the dungeon until further notice. What’s it gonna be, Joffrey? I’m just dying to hear your answer.”

You decide to make nice with the horsies. For now.

So here, you have a choice between being a squire of sorts to this petulant, rotten excuse for royalty; and spending some indefinite number of days squatting in a dungeon like some common gutter trash. Not much of a choice, but hey. Nobody said that life was fair.

Nobody who wasn’t trying to sell you something, anyway.

You think of your mother. Cersei. Dearest Cersei. Such a wonderful woman, ever loving and supportive. Put her firstborn son above the other two cretins who succeeded him, and rightly so. What would she do?

She was a proud woman. One who would sooner take the dungeon or the stocks than have such a stain on her image as apprenticeship to a vile wretch who would dare spit in the face of the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, she was a cunning woman. Like a snake, she would slide through the cracks and crevices of the royal court, crawling on her belly and biding her time; once her prey was vulnerable and without escape, she would rise up from off the ground, taking pleasure in the despair in her target’s eyes before lunging forth and digging her fangs into its belly, injecting her venom into it before swallowing it whole. In this, there was not only pride. There was also victory.

Yes. Today, you would be neither the stag nor the lion. Today, you would be the snake. You would let the pretentious whore have her way for now, and let her take you under her wing. All the better for you to dig your fangs into the belly beneath it… when the time is right.

You look down at the so-called Princess, wearing a smile most insincere on your face. “Alright. I’ll take you up on your offer. I am curious about this whole ‘magic of friendship’ thing.”

Twilight’s eyebrows shoot up as she takes one step backward. “Really? You will?”

You nod. “Yeah. I will.”

“But I thought that was the most ridiculous stuff you ever heard.”

“It is. Why do you think I’m so curious about it?”

Twilight expels a sigh of relief. “That was a lot easier than I thought it’d be.” You’re saying what I’m thinking, “Princess”. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, please introduce yourself to my friends.”

You nod. “Alright. I’ll introduce myself. But before that, I need to know something.” A pause. “Are any of them married?”

“No.”

You lean slightly towards her with a grin. “Are you?”

Twilight looks down a bit, then lets on a scowl as she pushes you back upright with a hoof. “No.”

You have a hearty chuckle at the Princess’ disgust — an emotion you’d intended to invoke. “The reason I ask, Your Highness, is because it is a rule of courtly etiquette for a ser to kiss a married lady’s hand when introducing himself. You… do know this, right?”

“I… er…” A pause. Then, she hits her own hoof on her face. “Oh, right! I forgot. Sorry, I’m not good at remembering this kind of stuff.” I doubt you’d ever learned it in the first place, peasant. “Please. Introduce yourself.”

You look to your left; you see the Princess’ retinue, five equines. A blue one, a pink one, a white one, an orange one, and a yellow one.

You first walk up to the yellow one, noticing how she demurely slinks down, looking down and to the side. A shy one. Excellent. The shy ones are always the most entertaining whipping posts. Once she finally looks into your eyes, you smile at her and extend an upward-facing palm. “King Joffrey Baratheon.”

“Oh. Um. I’m Fluttershy.”

Your smile drops to a frown as you strike the horse’s face with a backhanded slap. She yelps; the sound of the slap echoes throughout the castle.

The blue one snaps her gaze to you with an angry grimace, and shouts, “Hey! What was that for?”

You look to the blue one with a contemptuous sneer. “A girl should curtsey before a king. Especially a lowly peasant like her.” You look again to the Princess. “Did you not go over this with your…” Motley gang of lowborn trash. “… friends?”

Twilight shoots you a contemptuous sneer of her own. “No. I didn’t think we’d have to. I thought you’d at least have had the decency not to use courtly manners as an excuse to hurt my friends.”

You scoff. “An excuse, is it? I am a king. All I ask is that I’m treated like one.”

“Hmph. I guess humility will have to be one of your first lessons.” A pause. “But I’ll go along with it for now.” She turns to address her friends. “Go ahead and curtsey for King Joffrey. It is good manners, after all.”

You give Twilight a nod of approval, then look back to Fluttershy with the same smile. “Let’s try this again.” A pause. “I am King Joffrey Baratheon.”

Fluttershy takes a shaky breath, then gives a courtesy where her knees bent at weird angles. “I am Fluttershy. It’s nice to meet you, King Joffrey.”

That was the worst curtsey I have ever seen. You walk up to the orange one.

The orange one draws a long sigh, then gives a courtesy even weirder than Fluttershy’s. “I am Applejack. I’m pleased to meet you, King Joffrey.”

You move on to the white one. “King Joffrey.”

The white one gives a curtsey, this one fluid and graceful. “Greetings, King Joffrey. I am Miss Rarity. It is a pleasure meeting you, Your Majesty.”

A smile stretches across your face; satisfaction wells within you as you draw your gaze to the Princess, gesturing towards Rarity. “I like this one.” You look back to Rarity. “The Lord of the Seven Kingdoms is actually called ‘Your Grace’, but other than that, excellent display. Are you of noble upbringing by any chance?”

Rarity bows her head. “No, Your Grace. I am of common upbringing.”

“Ah. A social climber, I see. Interesting.” You approach the pink one. “King Joffrey.”

The pink one gives a curtsey on par with Fluttershy’s. “I’m Pinkie Pie. Nice meeting you, Your Grace.”

Unimpressive. You go to meet the blue one. “King Joffrey.”

After a long pause — one where you can plainly see the tension in her face — she gives a curtsey on par with Applejack’s. “Rainbow Dash. Great meeting you, Your Grace.”

After letting out a sigh, you turn to the Princess. “Alright. I’ve met your friends. What now?”

“Now…” She lets on a devilish smirk. “You get to choose a study partner. Then, you’ll spend an hour together in the castle to get to know each other a bit better. After that, your first lesson.” She gestures to her friends. “So, go ahead. Pick one. Take as much time as you need to think it over.”

"Twilight Sparkle, I choose you!"

You turn to look at those five ponies, considering your choices. First, there is the aptly named Fluttershy, who would be so much fun to abuse behind closed doors. Second is Applejack; there’s nothing interesting about her so far. Rarity is the most regal one here — more regal, in fact, than the so-called Princess. (Really, is it this kingdom’s custom to grab the most uncouth paupers in the land and give them royal titles? Why isn’t she a Princess?) There are also Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash, both of whom look very much chipper and spry — all the better to break them.

Yet, none of them are ideal. You are royalty. Being a peer to some common peasant is utterly beneath you. And besides that, you should at least have a look at this kingdom’s royal court, if not have a place in it. Get some friends in high places to help you get the power you rightly deserve. Then betray them as desired.

And what better to help you get your foot in the door than a Princess?

“I choose… Princess Twilight Sparkle.” You turn to the Princess with a grin on your face.

The Princess’ eyebrows shoot up; her maw goes agape. “What? M-... me? But why?”

“Because I feel like we both got off to a bad start. You spat in my face, after all. Not a good way to treat your royal guests. But then I slapped your friend like a bitch. We’re even enough to start over, don’t you think?”

“Ugh. No! I will not spend an hour alone with you.”

“Come now, Your Highness. If you don’t do it, then…” You chuckle. “... the yellow one will.”

Fluttershy’s breathing goes heavy before she swallows something in her mouth.

Twilight growls at you. “You are a sick person.” She draws a long breath. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

You smile sweetly at the Princess. “Thank you, Your Highness. Is there a chance we can do this over a drink?”

Twilight looks down for a moment, then sighs. “Sure. I’ll get Spike to get us some mint tea.”

You look down at the gray granite table below you as you sit across from the Princess on a cushioned leather chair. A white porcelain cup stands there, filled with a green tea whose steam filled the air with minty aroma. On the other side, the Princess takes a sip out of her own cup before setting it back down, then looks to you to speak.

“Why don’t you start? I’m not good at small talk.”

You let on a smirk. “So, how’s the weather?”

She shrugs. “Alright, I guess.”

She wasn’t kidding, it seems. You try something else: “So, where’d you get this tea? It’s really good.”

“Got it at the store.”

You take a sip of your tea, trying not to wince at its overbearing sweetness. “You go to the markets yourself? Don’t you have someone to do that for you?”

She lets out an exasperated sigh. “No, I don’t.”

“Not even that lizard? Your servant?”

With a scowl on her face, she slams a hoof against the table, spilling a bit of her tea on the table. “He’s not my servant!”

A pause. “Are you alright, Twilight?”

“No, I’m not alright! You know why?” She takes a breath. “Because I saw. I saw what you did in Westeros, I saw what you did to Fluttershy, and I saw what you were about to do to me! And you expect me to just... sit here and have tea with you like there’s nothing wrong? Are you serious?”

You shrug. “What else is there for you to do?”

Twilight lets out a groan. “This was a really, really bad idea.” She looks down at the table, then mutters, “But I don’t want to disappoint her.”

You lean back in your chair. “Disappoint who? Princess Celestia?”

She nods.

“She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”

She nods.

“You’d do anything for her approval, wouldn’t you?”

She sighs, then nods.

“I had someone like that back in Westeros. You know who, don’t you?”

She shakes her head.

“I guess you didn’t see everything, then.” A pause. “My father. Robert.”

Twilight looks back up to you. “Robert? Who was he?”

“The king.”

“But… I thought y-... oh. Oh.”

You nod, looking at her with a somber expression. “Yeah. He died in a hunting accident. I watched him go.” You mimic the Princess’ choking up. “That’s when it all happened, you know. When he died, I was devastated. In fact, I was so devastated that I could hardly even think straight. That’s why I was so cruel, you know. It was my way of lashing out at the world for taking my dad away from me.” You watch as tears well in the Princess’ eyes. “There was always a part of me that said, ‘Stop it, Joffrey. This isn’t what dad would’ve wanted. Be a good king.’ But with my mother there egging me on, and with how Westeros tends to treat good people to begin with…” You sigh.

Twilight looks up to you with her teary eyes. “J-... Joffrey. I… I had no idea. I didn’t see that part. All I saw were the parts where you were mean and cruel.”

“I understand. If I could take it all back, I would.”

“You would?”

“I would.”

Twilight’s lips curl up to the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. “Joffrey! That’s the first step!”

You cock an eyebrow. “The first step to what?”

“To reform! Aww, come here, you…” Twilight nudges herself off her seat, then trots around the table to your side. When she comes close, she stands up on her hind legs and wraps her forelegs around you in a warm, tight embrace. “It’s okay, Joffrey. You’re not in that horrible place anymore. You’re safe here with your good pal, Princess Twily.”

You put your own arms around Twilight, holding her and feeling her rub her cheek against your neck. A devilish smirk stretches across your face. It worked. That sentimental sob story actually worked! These tiny horses are so gullible. I’ll be king of this place before my eighteenth name day.

“You know,” Twilight says, “I was going to have you sleep in the dungeon. But you don’t have to anymore. You can have the guest quarters. And you can go anywhere you want in the castle, too, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Alright. I’m glad you’re here, Joffrey.” She gives your back a hearty pat before breaking the hug, standing on all fours once again. “I think that’s enough for one day. I need a couple hours to plan out your first friendship lesson, alright? I’ll come get you when I’m ready."

"And where should I go?"

"Go wherever you like. Spike tends to stay in the courtyard. I also have another friendship student who tends to stay in the library, so if you go there, you’ll likely run into her.”

You smile and nod. “Alright. Sounds good.”

“See you later, Joffrey.”

You watch as the Princess turns around and leaves the room, then draw your gaze back to the table. She had left her tea behind, her cup half-full. Your own tea has barely been touched. You take one more sip of it; the sweetness is ever so slightly less overbearing. Maybe by your eighteenth name day, you’ll be halfway to stomaching the stuff.

But that’s quite some time into the future. For now, you have the castle to explore.

It might be wise to mingle with the residents of the castle. The castle servant is always good to have in your pocket, as one could easily slip a fatal drop into a drink before serving it — as you learned the hard way. This other student could also be of value, especially since she’s apparently a bookworm. She might know some things you don’t, and even if she’s not there, the books, themselves, could be handy. There’s probably a lot of other useful places in the castle as well.

You go to the library.

You decide to make your way to the castle library. Seems an obvious choice, all things considered. Gathering a working knowledge of this place can only be a good thing, and perhaps showing a bit of bookishness will help win Princess Twilight’s esteem. You waste no time in rising up from your seat and walking over there, all the while admiring the architecture and decoration of the castle.

By the time you arrived at your destination, you had expected to find some other miniature horse over there. Not necessarily Twilight’s other student, but at least a librarian or custodian. Yet, all that greets you now is the vast array of books stocked on a vast array of shelves. Light from a glass-paned window on the upper wall illuminates the room, its rays peering down at a table standing in the middle. This table lacks chairs, yet is not tall enough for you to rest a book on while standing. Looks like you get to sit on the floor. A king. Sitting on the floor. A truly revolting thought.

You walk up to a shelf next to the table and give the books a quick run-down. Three titles catch your attention: A Crystal Empire in Chains; The Second Griffinic-Equestrian War; and The Ice Age: A Time Before Celestia. Apparently, you’d landed on the history section. As good a topic of study as any, you reckon. You grab the second-thinnest book, A Crystal Empire in Chains, and bring it down to the table, descending to a seated position on the floor as you open the book up to some random place in the middle and begin to read:

The invention of the mind-control mask had provided King Sombra with the tool for mass population control that the Empire had so badly needed. As before, he had required a sizable apparatus of enforcement for the labor and janissary forces, now all that was needed was a considerably smaller one for manufacture and maintenance of these masks. This, according to the head of the Imperial treasury, made the skills for the old method of repressing slaves obsolete. [25] Thus, the King had turned on the Ministry for Labor Peacekeeping, disbanding it officially on the seventh of January, 2986 PIA, [26] and enslaving many of those who had once been key to maintaining the practice of slavery. [27]

On the sixteenth of February in the same year, the Ministry for Psychological Security was founded. [28] The burgeoning scientific field of Magi-Technology was, as explained in the previous chapter, barely five decades old. (One may recall that it was, at the time, only outlawed in Equestria.) Nowhere was it more developed than the Crystal Empire; this advanced technological state was, as explained before, borne of necessity.

Commissioned to head the new Ministry was Doctor Mangle, [29] who had previously made a name for himself for his medical experiments with members of the surplus slave population. [30] As holder of a doctorate for both neurochemistry and magi-physics, [31] and with ample experience with serving in the old Ministry for Labor Peacekeeping, [32] he was ideal for heading the new Ministry for Psychological Security. The Doctor, who had ambitions for becoming head of the Ministry of Labor Peacekeeping prior to its disbandment, [33] wholeheartedly accepted his new role. [34]

You are interrupted by a hasty tap on your left shoulder. When you snap your gaze in its direction, your eyes meet those of a pony with a light plum coat.

The horse jolts back; her eyebrows shoot upward. “Oh! Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

A corner of your lip curls downward.

“Let me introduce myself.” She gives you a curtsey; her movements are fluid, if rushed. “Starlight Glimmer. Student of Princess Twilight.”

You smile at the young horse. “Good day, Miss Glimmer. I am King Joffrey Baratheon. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Protector of the Realm.”

Starlight lets out a chuckle; lets on a smirk. “I’ve heard about you, Joffrey. Quite the assortment of titles you have there.” A pause. “So, the Princess says I’m your new study partner.”

“I thought she was my study partner.”

“She is. So am I. You have two study partners. And two friends, if you play your cards right.” She nods. “Yep. Two erudite, popular, well-connected friends. A good deal, isn’t it?”

You tap the tips of your fingers together in front of your chest. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said, Joffrey.”

“I don’t think so.”

Her smirk drops down. “Why not?”

“Because you said ‘popular’ and ‘well-connected’.”

“I did. And you’re a king, aren’t you? Don’t you have kingly ambitions?”

You pause for a second, looking her over. She seemed confident and earnest. “I do.”

Her smirk returns. “Right. So it’s a good deal. A good deal, for the game you’re playing. For the game… we’re playing.” She gives you a knowing wink.

You smile and nod, extending an open upward-facing palm as you do so. Looks like I’m not the only one in this court who plays the game of thrones. Unless… You retract your hand and let down your smile. “Hold on. How do I know if the game you’re playing is the same as the one I’m playing?”

“What’s wrong? Don’t you value our friendship?”

“What I value is Princess Twilight’s good graces. I don’t want to give that up. Especially not on false pretenses.”

She hesitates. "I get it. I am, after all, a complete stranger to you. Hopefully, that’ll change in time, and you’ll know for sure what game I’m playing.” She raises a hoof, then taps the scabbard strapped to your waist. “Widow’s Wail?”

You bring a hand to the hilt of your sword, then clutch it tightly. “Yeah. Widow’s Wail. A Valyrian steel sword. My Valyrian steel sword.”

Her smirk stretches to a full smile. “Can I see it?”

You nod. “Alright.” You rise from your seated position, up on your feet. Then, you unleash Widow’s Wail, flourishing her in a single graceful motion before holding her blade slightly below Starlight’s eye-level. Starlight examines the sword with a mix of curiosity and awe in her eyes, and her smile changing to a grin. The red ripples on the black steel, and the brilliant gem encrusted in the center of the golden crossguard, shimmer with the light peering down from the window above. Your prized possession. As of yet, the sole tangible thing that truly separates you from the peasants and paupers of this realm.

She looks up to you. “That’s not just a sword. That’s a work of art! Where’d you get it?”

“My grandfather gave it to me on my wedding day.”

She lets out an airy chuckle. “Wedding day? A guy as young as you, married?”

“Yep. Margaery Tyrell.” A pause. “Political marriage. Beautiful girl nonetheless.”

“Political marriage? How quaint.”

You point Widow’s Wail upward, the flat of her blade facing you at eye level as you look upon her ripples. “Pretty common in Westeros. My parents married for political reasons. Grandfather Tywin lacked a male heir to House Lannister; Robert’s wife-to-be died before they could wed. So it was really more a marriage between House Lannister and House Baratheon than between Robert and Cersei.” You point Widow’s Wail forward, above Starlight’s head. “After Robert died, I became head of House Baratheon. When Grandfather Tywin kicks the bucket, I’ll be head of House Lannister, too.” Your lips curl up to a malevolent smile. “I’ll be the most powerful man alive. My reign will be legendary. My splendor will be unmatched. My word will be law.”

Starlight giggles. “Sounds ambitious. But you know, before any of that happens, you need to get back to Westeros. Which… doesn’t look like is gonna happen.”

Your smile drops down; you put Widow’s Wail back in her scabbard. “Yeah. You’re right. Might as well stick around and see what this whole ‘friendship’ thing is about.”

“It’s not as bad as you might think.”

“We’ll see.”

“You know; I think we’ll get along just fine.” A pause. “Princess Twilight sent me over here to tell you your first friendship lesson’s ready. In the courtyard. Ready to go?”

“Can you tell me what it is?”

“Humility.”

“Can you tell me what that entails?”

“A visit from Princess Celestia. And her Royal Guard. I suggest you make a good impression on her. She is, after all, your sovereign. For now.”

Sound advice. It may be best to take it. What a strange world, one where princesses apparently outrank kings. But then, you are only king of a faraway place. Essentially, king of nothing. But still a king; a king must maintain his pride and dignity, lest his title become truly meaningless.

A king must also be cunning. And the cunning plan ahead. As the courtyard is a fair distance away, now is your opportunity to do so.

You slap Celestia like a beeeyatch!

The pink light of dawn shines down from above, on the gardens of the castle courtyard; their neatly trimmed bushes glisten with the dew droplets reflecting it as their every leaf and flower dance with the cool breeze. Your feet tread on a lustrous marble pathway towards the center, where two platoons of bronze-clad pony soldiers are assembled in ranks. They stand at each side of a tall, white alicorn, whose flowing mane droops down over half her face and shines as brilliantly as her gem-encrusted shoes, chest piece, and crown, all forged from the finest gold.

You draw an apathetic gaze slightly to the size, unimpressed at the alicorn’s splendor. Donned in his finest attire, the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms makes this one look like a knave. And these guards of hers, as hard as they may try to look imposing with their stern expressions and the upright spears clutched in their forelegs, appear as naught but the toys of a toddler, their neotenous features and diminutive statures sending all fear to the rout in the face of stifled laughter. Despite your best efforts, a smirk draws up from one corner of your lips. They expect me to bend my knee to her? Hah! I’ll show them how it’s done in Westeros.

Once you stand within arm’s length of the alicorn, you stare straight into her purple eyes; she stares back into yours with furrowed brows and a pointed scowl. Your smile grows wide and smug as you point your nose upward, awaiting her pathetic groveling at the might and majesty of the King of the Andals and the First Men.

“Joffrey,” says Twilight as she pokes at your side. You look down to her, forcing your smile down flat. “This is Princess Celestia. Your sovereign. You’re supposed to bow down to her and introduce yourself.”

You roll your eyes.

“Come on,” Starlight says. “You’re being rude. Show some respect.”

You nod, then look back to the Princess. “Alright. I’ll show her all the respect that she rightly deserves.”

Your smile returns as you cock your arm and wrist around your side, then strike the Princess with a swift backhanded slap. A laugh erupts from you as Celestia’s face is flown back, her cheek red with the sting of your attack.

Twilight and Starlight gasp in unison, their brows shooting upward and their heads shifting backward in shock.

“Joffrey!” shouts Twilight.

“He assaulted our liege!” bellows one of the guards. “After him!”

The guards on both sides point their bronze-tipped spears down to your legs in an attempt to subdue you, yet before they touch your trousers’ rich fabric, you take a long stride back, then clutch the hilt of Widow’s Wail and whip her out of her scabbard. Your sword slices the air as you bring her upward in a charcoal blur, then downward in a sweeping cleft at the guards’ paltry armaments. You barely feel it in your hand when her blade effortlessly cleaves through the shafts, sending wooden fragments and shards flying and littering the ground.

Your grin stretches as wide as can be as you point the tip of your sword at the guard who had issued the order, then lunge forward and drive it deep into his forehead, the bronze and bone easily giving way as your most prized possession tastes blood for the first time. The guard unleashes a shrill scream as you extract your blade, glaring blively at him as he buckles down to the floor, then writhes in an ever-growing pool of the blood gushing from his gaping wound. Nothing cuts like Valyrian steel.

“Joffrey!” Twilight shouts again, her voice cracking as tears well in her eyes.

The rest of the guards drop their ruined spears, then flee in terror before your kingly might. You aim the blood-dripping point of Widow’s Wail at the white Princess’ face as sadistic glee wells deep within your being. “Where is your power and splendor now, Your Highness?”

Starlight stamps a hoof on the ground and shoots an angry glare up at you. “That’s enough, Joffrey. Put the sword down.”

Celestia growls at you. “Foolish little boy. I could turn you to dust right now.”

You tighten your grip on your sword’s hilt. “Then, why don’t you?”

“Because I won’t stoop to your level.” She sighs, tremoring in indignation. “You murdered one of my Royal Guards. Yet, in the knowledge that you don’t know any better, I will pardon your crime and save your neck from the gallows, but only if you stop the violence this instant.”

Upon hearing this, your grin shrinks; your lips purse as confusion enshrouds your mind. Your sword arm involuntarily eases down, letting the blade’s bloody tip point to the floor. Forgiveness? What for? … What is she playing at?

“Before I make that promise,” you say, “I have a request.”

“Name it.”

“I will never be asked bow to you, nor to any Princess of your realm. From now on, Joffrey Baratheon and Princess Celestia speak to each other on equal terms.” You flick your sword’s blade in the air; crimson droplets land on the alicorn’s golden chest piece. “Take it or leave it.”

Celestia sneers at you. “Fine. We are equals. Now, if you excuse me, I have a funeral to help plan.” She turns her back to you, then goes on her way. “It was a pleasure meeting you… Your Grace.” She spits out that last word like bad wine as she turns a corner, behind a tall bush and out of your sight.

You let out a relieved sigh, smiling as you look down to Twilight. “That went quite well, didn’t it?”

The Princess of Friendship weeps, tears running down her face and spattering against the floor. “How could you, Joffrey?” She draws in a deep, shaky breath. “How could you!?” Her sobbing continues as she turns away and gallops down the marble pathway, her hoofsteps echoing throughout the courtyard as you watch her with callous indifference, until she opens a large door, then slams it shut behind her.

You feel a tapping on your flank. When you snap your gaze there, you see Starlight looking up at you, her eyelids drooped and her scowl slight. “Your Grace. I need to tell you something.” She waits for a response; you don’t give her one. “You need to make amends with her.”

“When? Now?”

“No. Not now. Later, when she’s cooled off.”

“And how long will that be?”

She lets out a groan. “Who knows? Maybe a couple hours, maybe a couple weeks… but I’d wait at least a day if I were you. And if she’s still upset with you after that, don’t push it. Just wait another couple days. Alright?”

You reach into your shirt pocket, then pull out a violet silk handkerchief. You wipe the blood off the blade of Widow’s Wail before returning her to her scabbard, then the bloodied cloth to your pocket. “Alright. I’ll take your advice.” You pause. “What do we do until then? Is there another friendship lesson planned?”

“Well, there was one planned for tonight, but I don’t think Twilight’ll be in any shape to put you through it by then.” She looks to the limp body beside her. “And she’ll have to get Spike to get this corpse shipped back to Canterlot and clean up the mess you made. Hm.” She pauses, then looks back to you. “Well, what do you wanna do?”

Kings have needs, too.

You put a finger to your chin, searching through your depraved mind for an answer. But before you find one, you are struck with a stirring in your loins. The primal want for a woman’s touch. Undignified, to be sure, but even a king has his needs; he must attend to those before he can do kingly things. The answer’s found you, it seems.

You recall the first of such thoughts towards womankind. Cersei was a beautiful woman – indeed, one of the most beautiful women in Westeros. You had imagined that she was even more beautiful in her youth, when she first married Robert. And she was the one who had nurtured you, comforted you in your times of need, and taught you the ways of the world. Indeed, you owe much of who you are to her. It seems only natural, then, that your first urges to mate would be directed to her. You wonder, for a brief moment, if she would have nurtured you in that way as well if you had expressed those urges to her.

But as Westeros is but a distant memory, Cersei included, it is only brief.

An urge for women, with no women to be found. Not even men who look like women. Just horses. Stallions and… mares. You let out a despondent sigh as you realize: from now on, you’ll have to be content to fuck a mare. Which mare? The one right in front of you would be the most logical choice.

It’s going to be quite the challenge. You have no access to women, but she has access to stallions. Charming a talking horse into letting a man inside her when she could easily have another talking horse instead. Quite the challenge, indeed. But with Robert’s charm, Cersei’s good looks, and a bottle of whiskey, how can you fail?

Starlight, at the very least, reminds you of Cersei.

“You know,” you say, “I don’t think I’ve gotten to know you well enough. How about a night out on the town? Just the two of us.”

Starlight giggles. “A king, asking me out on a date? I am flattered, Your Grace.”

Your mouth stretches to a grin. “As you should be. But you know...” Your grin shrinks away. “I know it isn’t very manly to ask the lady where she’d like to go, but…”

Starlight lets out a playful scoff. “It’s okay. I understand. Alien universe and all that. How about dinner and a movie?”

You cock an eyebrow. “Can you tell me what a movie is?”

“Hmm. Well, basically, you have this machine called a projector, which casts a beam of light onto a blank screen or canvas which puts an image on it. An image slide is put into it, then is projected onto this blank screen or canvas. Now, ‘movie’ is short for ‘motion picture’, which means the projector is flipping through many pictures in rapid succession – we’re talking fifteen, thirty every second – each one just ever so slightly different from the last. This gives it the illusion of motion, thus, motion picture. With me so far?”

You nod. I don’t care. Get to the point.

“Good. Now, alongside the motion picture is an audio track, which accompanies it through speakers placed on all sides of the theater. It has music, voice-acting, sound effects… pretty much every audio component that the filmmakers decide complements the motion picture, recorded and played back on a separate device. Both of those things together make up what we call a movie.”

You nod. “Oh. So, it’s like a stage play with moving pictures on a canvas instead of live actors.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“You could’ve just said that.”

She chuckles. “I know. But I like going on about these things. Anyway, are you interested? There’s one in particular I think you would like.”

“Very well.”

“Alright. Then let’s go. We don’t wanna be late.”

“Joffrey!”

You whip your gaze up to the open sky, in the direction of the shouting. Rocketing down at you from there is a cyan blur, trailing a shock of rainbow hair tossing in the wind. You clutch the handle of Widow’s Wail, ready to defend yourself. Yet, before the blur comes within the sword’s reach, a screen of bluish-green light flashes before your very eyes. The speeding blue slams into the screen with a pained grunt, then plummets down to the dirt road below. A cloud of dust rises on impact. As the dust settles and the screen dissipates, the blue pegasus bolts up from off the ground. You remember this one. Rainbow Dash. Once she’s up on her hooves, she glares at Starlight with a grimace across her face, and hatred searing in her eyes.

“What the hay, Starlight? What is he doing outside the castle?”

Starlight takes a step forward. “I’m taking some time to get to know him better so I can better teach him friendship. Is that so wrong?”

“Uh, yeah! Did you hear what he did?”

“What did he do?”

“He murdered one of Celestia’s guards. Murdered him! And assaulted Celestia, herself!”

“Yeah. He did. So, what?”

“So, he’s dangerous!”

Starlight stubs her nose up. “Well, I’m keeping a close eye on him. Nopony should have to worry about Joffrey doing anything unseemly.”

Rainbow Dash growls. “He should be punished for this.”

“Yeah. Well, he isn’t. Deal with it.”

“Deal with it? Seriously!?”

“Well, you’re not a Princess, are you?”

“So, what if I’m not?”

“So, it’s not your place to make those calls. It’s Twilight’s. Twilight is the Princess here, not you.”

You roll your eyes. All this nattering and bickering is boring you to tears. Looks like magical female horses aren’t that different from women after all. So, what do you do? Let it run its course, or intervene?

You intervene.

Your mouth curls up to a cruel grin as you step forward with your hand clutched around the handle of Widow’s Wail. Rainbow Dash snaps her gaze up to you, the hatred burning hot as ever.

“Remember what Princess Twilight said?” You adjust your grip on your sword. “She said that you don’t believe in punishment. You find it vindictive and cruel. You don’t want to be vindictive and cruel, do you?”

“Do you know what you did, Joffrey?”

“I know exactly what I did.” A chuckle escapes you; your grin grows wider. “I struck your liege in her ugly little face. Then I drove the tip of my sword into some peasant’s skull. Then I watched the peasant bleed and writhe on the ground like a pig. Then…” You chuckle again. “… I got away with it. Because your pathetic principality doesn’t believe in punishment. Funny how these things work, isn’t it?”

Rainbow Dash takes a breath through gritted teeth. “You won’t get away with this. If Twilight won’t punish you for what you did, then somepony will!”

“That ‘somepony’ wouldn’t be you, would it?”

“And what if it is?”

“Hmm.” You look to Starlight. “The yellow one. Fluttershy. She lives in that secluded cottage near the forest, doesn’t she?”

Starlight nods. “She does.”

“Just as I thought.” You look back to Rainbow Dash. “If I find out that you’ve been going behind your local lord’s back and violating her decree – an act of treason, mind you – then…” You walk up to Rainbow Dash. She jolts back, but otherwise stays still as you bend down to whisper into her ear. “… I’ll slip into her cottage in the middle of the night. While she and the rest of the town are sleeping, I’ll suffocate her to death with her own pillow. Then, I’ll take her body to the forest, where she’ll be eaten by the wolves, or whatever this horse world has in place of wolves. And you won’t be able to report me to the local law enforcement without them finding out about your own crime. Now, I don’t know how far your principality goes with this whole ‘not believing in punishment’ thing, but if I were you, I would think twice before outing myself for treason.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rainbow Dash whispers back. “Twilight will understand. She won’t throw us in the dungeon for doing what’s right.”

“And do you really want to risk your friend’s life over it?”

Rainbow Dash growls as she trembles with rage. She takes a breath, then answers, “No. No, I don’t.”

“And do you really think that you’ll be able to indict me? With no blood, no witnesses, and a local lord who’ll definitely give me the benefit of the doubt?”

She lets out a defeated sigh. “I guess not.”

“Good. It’s nice to see you have at least a little bit of intelligence.” You return to an upright posture, then step back and say at a normal volume, “Now, Twilight doesn’t need to hear about what we just discussed?”

“She doesn’t.” A pause. “She has enough to deal with as it is.”

“Good.” You release your hold on Widow’s Wail. “Now, away with you, peasant. Lady Glimmer and I are getting to know each other better. It’s a friendship lesson. We don’t want you interrupting it.”

Rainbow Dash spits on the ground. Then, with a single flap of her wings, she takes flight, flapping her wings towards some bunch of clouds in the sky.

Starlight giggles as you turn back to her. “’Lady’ Glimmer, Your Grace?”

You nod. “Of course. You are a lady, are you not?”

“Well, I just thought you’d assumed I was a peasant just like you’ve been doing with most of the other ponies you’ve met.”

A smirk draws up one side of your mouth as you place a palm on the back of her head. “Nonsense. You lack the boorishness and the simplicity of a peasant. Or else, why would a king feel comfortable to ask you out on a night on the town?”

“So, you don’t just assume everypony’s a peasant.”

“Of course not. Just, most of any kingdom are peasants, and only a peasant can’t tell the difference. You’re an exception.” You give her head a pat before withdrawing your hand back to your side.

“Permission to continue on to the movie theater, Your Grace?”

“Granted, Lady Glimmer.”

“And here it is!”

You draw your eyes along the line of awaiting moviegoers, starting at the ticket booth and ending just short of a dark alley. Just above the patrons’ heads, you see posters, held to the wall with some invisible adhesive you have yet to discover, and colored with vivid hues that grasp at your attention. They seem to be advertising the films being played within the walls of this very theater. There is one called “Daring Do: The Raiders of the Lost Saddle”, one called “Rendrear Mountain”, one called “The Dunwich Horror”, and two called “Warpony 40,000: The Imperium Strikes Back”.

You look to Starlight. “I take it this is it?”

She smiles up at you. “It is, Your Grace.”

You gesture to the posters on the walls. “And I take it those are all the movies that are up for viewing?”

She nods.

You look to the line. The long line that seems to grow longer with each passing second. You sigh, then look back to Starlight. “We don’t actually have to wait in this thing, do we?”

Starlight lets out a hearty laugh. “Of course not! I’m a personal student of Princess Twilight, and you’re a foreign dignitary. Lines are for the birds. We’re above them.”

“Good to know. Now, which one of these movies is the one you said I’d like?”

“The Dunwich Horror, Your Grace. The other three are peasant fare. Plebeian. Unfit for even the lowliest of kings.” She pauses. “Of course, we don’t have to watch that one. We could do any of the other ones if you want. I’m just giving you my suggestion.”