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.”