When they had said 'a major event' to be held in my honour, this is not quite what I had expected. I was familiar enough with events like this from my former life to expect perhaps a few dignitaries and possibly a few military units, with the odd musical performance. After all, that's what had been done for the Platinum Jubilee back in 2022.
Instead, as the sky transport docked at what I could only assume was the place where the Royal Family sat, the pathway to the structure was absolutely lined with reporters, whose cameras were positively blazing with flashes, taking pictures constantly.
"Right, you know the drill!" Pipp called to Zipp. "Smile, and look cool!"
Zipp snorted. "Of course Pipp. Cool and collected."
Pipp was doing lots of poses as she walked alongside us. She was really soaking up the attention.
I, on the other hand, realised I still had my sunglasses on. This would make some of the photographs look a bit strange, so I removed them from my face and glanced to the cameras, doing my best to smile pleasantly whilst getting used to the new muscle structure in my face. That was another thing that had surprised me. I had half expected with the different teeth and different face shape, not to mention a larger tongue, that speaking would have been extremely difficult. Instead, communication wasn't actually too different to when I was a human. I guess human and pony biology actually isn't that different.
Naturally, as we proceeded, we were being barraged with questions. Some of them were perfectly reasonable.
"What make of sunglasses do you wear?" asked one reporter.
"Who's your mane stylist?" asked another.
"Who supplies Pipp's streaming equipment?" asked a third.
And them some questions were simply ridiculous.
"Where's the bathroom?" asked one reporter, not realising his microphone was still turned on.
I kept on looking ahead, my focus on my destination. If that individual wanted to know where the WC was, why in the world was he asking us?
Luckily, the figure they'd referred to as the Colonel was on hand to dispel any silliness. "Behind you and to the left!" he called. "Should I dispell the reporters, Your Majesty?"
"There is no need," I replied, before turning to Pipp and Zipp. "Shall we indulge them of a family photo?"
Zipp's facial expression suggested she didn't like the idea, but Pipp's own face lit up at the suggestion. The pair trotted over nontheless and we let them take a group photo. Having looked at it later, the results were less than ideal, but I wasn't aware of that at the time.
At last, we reached the structure at the opposite end of the carpet. The guards had already formed up outside and were scanning for threats. Myself and my daughters then went inside, and stopped. In this small... well, it was a box, were three thrones, which looked familiar in terms of their design. I assumed the biggest and tallest one was for me, and so I took up position. Sitting proved to be an interesting logistical challenge. Trying to prop myself against the back of the throne like a human would quickly proved not to work, as there were weight distribution issues. Trying to use my wings to keep balance simply looked ridiculous, so I slumped, dropping my back legs down and using the front ones to prop myself up.
Pipp looked in confusion. "Everything OK, mom?" she asked. "You're acting a bit strangely, that's all."
"Everything's fine," I replied. "I was... err... checking the back was assembled correctly!"
Naturally, the others inside, including the guards, assumed this was a joke, and laughed. Zipp took up her position and seemingly noted something down in a notebook. I didn't take much note of what was in it. Probably personal observations about proceedings. She would need them, after all, if she's going to succeed me some day.
Just then, the crowd fell silent, clearly excited to see the Royal Family. Moments later, a speaker spoke.
"Ladies and gentlecolts," she said, "I would like to welcome all of you to Trooping the Colour this year. As many of you undoubtedly know, this year marks 25 years since our Beloved Queen took the throne and led us into a new age of prosperity. And so, I'll hand proceedings over to General Clear Skies, who is in command of the military parade."
A figure in a peaked cap and what looked like a pony version of an army dress uniform took the stand. He then addressed the troops assembled on the field. "Company will remove headdress in threes. Headdress... remove!"
In a perfectly synchronised motion, each soldier removed their helmet or whatever headgear they had.
"Company, three cheers for the Queen. Hip hip!"
"Hurrah!"
"Hip hip!"
"Hurrah!"
"Hip hip!"
"Hurrah!"
The precision was at once mesmerising and slightly alarming. Quite how they'd all been trained to say 'hurrah' in perfect sync I have no clue.
"Company will replace headdress in threes. Headdress... replace!"
With another perfectly synchronised movement, the troops replaced their headgear.
"Company will turn to the left in threes. Left... turn!"
At last it seemed the parade was ready to go. But before anything else could happen, yet another fanfare started up.
That's Handel, I thought to myself.
"And now," said the presenter from earlier, "we would like to invite all of you in singing the National Anthem."
And so they did. Much like the music from earlier, the tune was one I knew very well- it was the British one, although with different words. I'd sung the original many times, but now it was a bit strange to be the subject of the words.
They certainly were patriotic, that's for sure.
At last, the parade was ready to begin. A new march was played, and the troops in the square moved off.
And even more entered from the other side, followed by other military things.
In all seriousness, I was caught off guard by the sheer scale of the pageantry. To convey a sense of what it was like, combine the British Trooping the Colour, the typical Independence Day parade, Bastille Day, the May Day Parade held in Moscow, and multiply all of that by about one hundred.
There were thousands of soldiers passing the box, each of them turning their heads to the right and saluting with the relevant wing as they did so. Sometimes vehicles rolled through the scene as well. They were all shapes and sizes. Some of them looked like tanks, and whilst some looked very new, others looked much more vintage.
The Colonel was, at points, explaining to me what some of the things were. "And that is the vintage squadron. Those tanks fought at the Battle of Thunder Bay!"
I didn't really understand what he was talking about, so I simply nodded politely. The parade continued, with more vehicles, which I thought were personnel carriers of some description, rolling past. They were then followed by what looked like missile carriers of some sort.
But most ponies had seemingly turned out to see the Household Guard. Their romanesque armour immediately distinquished them as they passed, and the crowd cheered as they marched past.
I looked on at this with a mixture of emotions as another group of tanks rolled past the box. If nothing else this was quite smelly. Whilst surprising at first, I must admit I was beginning to settle into my newfound position of power. After all, I had hardly been the sort of person anypony would have taken note of back in the life I had once led. And now, here I was, the leader of what seemed like a superpower based on what was on display.
The roar of engines soon attracted my attention. "Your Majesty," the Colonel said. "The air force have prepared something quite special this year. The program calls it the Stack."
I looked up as best I could, and saw five squadrons of jets flying in. As they approached, they formed up in vertical groups, forming layers of five and five.
Clever, I thought to myself. Five and five, of course, makes twenty five, which was how long I'd been on the throne. What would be called a Silver Jubilee back in the UK.
Being Queen was pretty easy if this was all it consisted of. I relaxed a bit, and glanced over to see what Pipp and Zipp were doing. Pipp was busy streaming the event (what else?), but Zipp seemed to be lost in thought.
"Is everything OK, Zephyrina?" I asked.
Zipp seemed shaken out of her thoughts. "Sorry, mom. Just thinking, that's all."
I nodded. "Well, that's always a healthy mindset." I turned my attention back to the parade ground as several cannons had been formed up, each crewed by three pegasi.
It seemed this was the end of the parade, and I counted 25 of them in total. Each cannon was then fired once, symbolically creating 25.
Pipp glanced over. "Why are they aimed so low if they're firing them?" she asked.
The Colonel looked like he was about to answer, but I got there first. "They're firing blank rounds, dear. Nothing actually comes out of the barrel."
I had to watch what I said. After all, things had to be kept running smoothly.