• Published 19th Apr 2012
  • 36,195 Views, 9,289 Comments

Know your Mare - overlord-flinx



It's silly, it's pointless, and it makes little to no sense... I've heard of worse story ideas.

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Extra Special: Britannia.

Know your mare, know your mare, know your mare...

Grace, poise, elegance that takes years -perhaps centuries- to master. That is what the pony on center stage expelled from every stretch of her body.

Britannia...

...is holier than thou art...

"Hmmm, possibly. But then that would depend entirely upon who thou art, wouldst it not?"

Britannia...

...uses magic to fix her gross teeth...

"Only if I've been careless in combat... Zebra rejuvenation droughts are a most useful addition to any well-stocked first-aid kit, I find... Gross, though?... Have a care, sir... I like to think I maintain very good dental hygiene."

Britannia...

...speaks in a fake accent...

"Hmmm?" she laughed a small airy chuckle, "Seulement si c'est avantageux pour moi de le faire, monsieur."

Wooo...

...She's picking a fight with you...

Britannia...

...stay strong my sister, fight the British fight...

"Oh. Most encouraging of you. Thank you, I believe I shall."

Why'd you say that...?

Brits stand up for Brits...

...It's the code...

It IS the code...

Britannia...

...is a knight of the round table...

"No, a Night Commander of Princess Luna's Most Ancient Order of..."

...she'll dance whenever able...

"Well I can cut a decent jig if the occasion..."

...she does routines,...

"...er...routine inspect..."

...chorus scenes...

"...I'd rather not, I have a simply awful singing..."

...with hoof-work impeccable...

"Well my hooves have never let me down so far..."

Now you know...

Britannia the Dancing-Fake-Accent-Snaggletooth-Haberdasher...

"Actually it's Lady Britannia Whinneyvere Buckingham-McScone, Captain of the Royal Equestrian Expeditionary Force, Lt. Warder of the Royal Treasure Vaults, Night Commander of the Royal Guardians of the Nocturnal Realm... But I can see how all that might be confusing for an....individual of your ilk

"....Do you mind if I request something of you, sir?... Could you count to three....yes, three. You see it has to be three because four is too much and two too little, you see. Five is right out. so, if you'd be so kind, three is the number thou shalt count and the number of the counting shall be three..."

Hold...!

I call the order of the code section seven sub-section five...

Wordlessly, Britannia nodded and sauntered off the stage, her head held high and any plans of attack cancelled.

...What did you do...?

British honor...

...Everyone gets one...

Author's Note:

Read her stories at Hazel Hooves

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