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?”