The Ship of State

by marciko322

3. Sprouting Roots I – A Slow Morning

Despite having woken up on my living room couch this morning, my spirits were strangely high. The couch was nowhere near as comfortable as my bed, and waking up on it in the morning was generally a sign that I had gone too far the previous night, or at least that I had stayed up reading too long. Neither a book nor a splitting headache accompanied me, however. The only thing that made itself known was last evening’s events, sorting themselves out in my mind.

I hadn’t left the house since Lyra broke down in my hallway. She had really tuckered herself out, the poor girl; I insisted she take my bed, which she eventually and reluctantly agreed to. That explained the couch. And my mood, too – doing good felt good, after all. I also offered her the use of my bathroom, which she snapped up right quick - I didn't think she was that desperate for a wash, but in hindsight it really was tragically obvious she'd have taken it.

Blueblood was officially here to stay as my Equestrian connection. Fuck only knows what he expected to do, though. I had bugger-all intentions to do anything in terms of diplomatic activity, personally. Probably Blueblood was here just to act as a magical mailbox for Celestia and I. I wasn’t sure what to make of him, as Ambassador – our first meeting was crap, yes, and most of our second too, but towards the end of our talk he had seemingly mellowed out, dispensing with all his talk of peasants and yokels and pigsties. Maybe there was a scrap of a decent, intelligent person in there, buried under all the muck of ego and titles. All I had to do was figure out how I could draw it out of him.

Construct was still here somewhere, too, I thought. I didn’t pay much mind to her; she was here to do a job, and by what little I’d made of her she’d damn well do it, if perhaps while keeping a wary eye on me.

Oh, right. I saw a few more lads outside my house last night, too; the ones with all the tents and wagons. Probably Construct’s crew, here to develop some prime real estate. At the very least I’d have a few more summer homes than I did now. Their setting up tents didn’t speak for an extended stay, or for very comfortable off-work conditions. I could only hope their paycheck made up for it – and that I wasn’t going to have to be the one to pay it.

Recount complete, I got off my couch, got dressed quickly, and moseyed over to my bedroom, quietly opening the door and throwing a look inside. Lyra was still in bed, but a quick glance showed she was already awake – as her wide-open eyes swivelling my way gave away immediately. I gave her a quick wave and backpedalled out of there, closing the door behind me. Looked like she was doing fine, at least.

I meandered my way over to my kitchen, getting ready to make some coffee to start the day. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, in all honesty; nothing was on the agenda just yet. The crops didn’t need watering, the still was empty, and I wasn’t running low on any essentials. I reckoned I could take the day easily, dealing with things as they came. Business as usual, really.

First, though, coffee.

Time passed by quickly as I absorbed myself in the mundanity of life, sipping at my drink robotically, leaning on the windowsill in my kitchen, staring out at the view of a whole bunch of trees, again glowing with the dawn’s sun. I hadn’t noticed the glow having risen above the treetops until a touch on my leg made me jolt, and turn my head around.

It was just Lyra. Of course. What else would it have been?

“Good morning, Lyra,” I greeted. “Sleep well?”

“Yes, I did,” she returned quietly, with a gentle smile. I turned back to the window.

“Good, that’s good.” I finished the last of my coffee, and reached over to put the cup in the sink, which had become quite backed up with dirty dishes. Welp, looks like I found my first task for the day.

The sound of a throat clearing brought my attention behind me, to Lyra, looking quite guilty. I raised my brow. “Yes, Lyra? You needed something?”

“Well, ah...” She was trying hard to not make eye contact. I gave her all the time she needed. “I… was wondering about… breakfast-”

“Oh, right!” I barely avoided facepalming. Christ, I’d almost forgotten about that. I tended to take my breakfast late in the morning, at least a few hours after I’d woken up, but of course most ponies didn’t work the same way. “Sorry about that. I can whip something up for you right quick.” Besides, Lyra was technically a guest in my house, for the foreseeable future – it’d be poor form to deny her any food, after all. I moved over to my icebox, in the corner of the room. “Have any preferences? I’ve got bread, potatoes, carrots, lettuce, berries… hope you’re not a fan of eggs, though, ‘cause they’re tough to get here without any chickens of my own.”

“You’d… do that?” And in just three simple words, she made me stop in my tracks. Halfway to grabbing a pair of carrots, I turned back to look her in the eyes.

“Of course I would. It’s the least I can do.” I closed the icebox, prize in hand.

“Why?” Lyra all but whispered, though still loudly enough for me to catch. It was all I could do to shake my head at her in disbelief, instead of rushing over to cuddle the sad out of her. I put the carrots down on the counter and walked over to her, still by the sink, and knelt down to her eye level.

“Because you need it, and you want it. And I can give it.” Lyra finally dared to meet my eyes with her own, shining brightly. I gave her a gentle pat on the back. “I’m not gonna pry if you don’t want me to, but I can tell you’ve gone through some nasty business in your life, for you to be so afraid of asking these things.” I inhaled, and held it for a beat. “Well, ya don’t need to be. That part of your life is over, now. On my honour as Supreme Overlord,” I winked, before standing up and gesturing back to the carrots. “You can have ‘em, if you like. Not a fan, myself. Hell, have anything you like for breakfast, I won’t stop ya. Mi casa es tu casa, as they say.” I winked once more, before spinning on my heel and making for my front door.

Fuck me, I thought, fumbling at my door locks. It’s too damn early for heart-to-hearts. I’m already feeling drained. Or maybe the coffee's not kicked in yet.

Defeating the door locks, I stepped outside, savouring the sight of- oh right, none of that any more, there were tents in the way now. I looked around, hoping to spot Blueblood or Construct among the small amount already milling about aimlessly, but without any luck. I didn’t feel like chasing either of them down yet; they could always come find me if they needed to. Neither did I feel like making conversation with any of these ponies outside. And finally, nothing came to mind as to any work I needed doing outside; crops were watered by the rain, and they still weren't ready for harvest yet. Concluding my inspection, I stepped back indoors.

Back in the kitchen, I found Lyra at the table happily floating a few slices of bread into her mouth... just straight bread. The sight made me wince. The carrots on the counter had disappeared, at least.

“You sure you don’t want anything on that?” I asked, walking over to the sink to get started on the washing up.

A pause came before she answered. “No thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” I busied myself with the dishes for a while, pouring water from a jar on them and scrubbing them clean. Running water was a luxury I couldn’t feasibly install here, not without any water mains or even a well nearby, but I had long since grown used to it. Come to think of it, I had gotten used to an awful lot of luxuries not being present here. Two years seemed like such a long time ago now, back when everything was still fresh and terrifying. Now, it was just… life.

Well. Not everything was 'just life' any more, I mused. Not with a roommate living with me and a bunch of twats camping on my front lawn waiting to build wooden commie-blocks for the glory of Overlord Inns. I chuckled at the image, putting the last plate down to dry.

Lyra had finished her ‘breakfast,’ I saw, and was now looking up at me with an inscrutable expression. “Pardon me, sire,” she began. “But, um…” She swallowed, gently biting the inside of her cheek. “May I ask you a question?”

Fucking hell, I just couldn’t help myself. “Didn’t you just?”

Fortunately, her expression morphed into one I could understand much more easily – one of decided unimpressed-ness. “Sire, I am serious.”

“Ah, see?” I was greatly amused by her utterly flat look – my other thought about it didn’t make itself known until… “There is a way to draw you out of your shell!”

Predictably enough, Lyra then withdrew back into her usual persona. “I am sorry, sire,” she grovelled. “Please forgive my impudence.”

“Hey, no worries.” Great, now I was feeling down again. Christ, but was this mare good at pushing my emotional buttons. “I’m just messing with ya. What d’ya wanna ask?”

She looked back up at me then, and I saw in her eyes genuine curiosity, her reticence melting into nothing. The sight was almost overpowering. “What kind of creature are you? I’ve never seen one of you before.”

“I’m a human,” I said, vaguely bemused. I would have thought most everyone in Equestria knew who I was by now, going by what the papers had to say about Celestia’s announcement when I got here. Even the tiny settlements up the river knew who I was by the time I visited them for the first time. “And no, you wouldn't have. To make a long story short, I showed up in Canterlot two years ago, and after a few weeks Celestia let me stay and live here. It was all over the papers for months, as I understand.”

“Oh.” Her face fell, for whatever reason. “I thought...” I inhaled to speak, but Lyra cut me off before I could open my mouth. “You seem too nice to have been in Canterlot.”

Her words gave me pause. What was that supposed to mean? “What do you mean by that?”

Her mouth clacked shut audibly. After a few seconds of silence, Lyra finally summed up the courage to simply shake her head. Bad juju, right. I waved my hand as if to air away what I just said.

“Well anyway, I’m not from Canterlot, really. I’m actually not from Equus at all.” That seemed to do the trick: Lyra’s head snapped up to mine like a hungry shark, eyes wide in disbelief.

“You… I...” she sputtered. I patiently waited for her mouth to start working properly again. “Th… You’re an alien?”

“Sure am,” I said. It was close enough, at any rate; only the pedantic would take issue. Lyra just stared at me, eyes still wide. I shot her a grin. “Yeah. Didn’t think you’d ever be roomies with an alien, did ya? Come on, let me tell you about myself, hmm?”

I waved for her to follow me into the living room, where I took the couch. Lyra sat down in an armchair, facing perpendicular to it, a coffee table filling the gap between us. She was still staring at me in awe as I began to tell her about my arrival here. She laughed when I told her I inadvertently hit Celestia in the face with a door, and smirked when I spoke about Blueblood. When I told her about some of the less funny, and pleasant, times I had, she merely nodded along, a sour look on her face. If I didn’t already have my suspicions, I’d have found that a little off, but now I just added it to the pile.

I had less to say about my time actually living here. Lyra didn’t seem very interested in my agrarian lifestyle, though I was heartened to at least see her peering at my book collection. I also didn’t bother to explain my life before, on Earth, not only because I didn’t want to chance Celestia getting wind of me telling random people about dimensional flappery – apparently it was a sore topic for her, as well as a matter of national security – but also because I didn’t think she’d believe me if I went for broke. Not to mention that was mostly irrelevant to me by now anyway. She never asked, at any rate.

A few moments of silence passed when I finished my tales. Lyra was nodding at something or another I said earlier, to herself, though I couldn’t really tell what for. I leaned back in my couch to ease the growing pain in my lower back, and turned the proverbial tables back on her. “So, Lyra. I’ve spilled all my beans to ya. Tell me about yourself.”

She didn’t expect that one. “Me?” she asked, pointing a hoof to herself to confirm. When I nodded, she dropped it with a look of alarm. “Er, okay… what would you like to know?”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Canterlot,” she immediately returned, to my surprise.

“Really? I’d have thought… well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem… not a lot like the usual Canterlot crowd.”

Lyra iced over. “That was why I left.” The way she said that made it very clear to me that pursuing this topic was a poor choice. I wisely decided to leave it alone.

“Right… wait, hang on. How come you didn’t know what I was? Like I said, Canterlot was crazy about me while I was there. Didn’t you read the Canterer’s expose on me?”

“No,” she said. “I had already long since moved on by that point. I believe… two years ago. I believe I was in San Palomino then.”

“San Palomino…?” That was a massive desert far past Los Pegasus, down south. For all intents and purposes, it was considered a dead zone, not officially regarded as part of Equestria except for some beyond-hardy ponies eking out a life in tiny oases, many of them still within sight of Los Pegasus. No pony had ever dared to find out what was on the other side of it, to my knowledge. “Wait, when exactly did you leave Canterlot?”

She hesitated, then, shooting me a nervous look before finally, almost grudgingly, giving her answer. “Nine years ago.”

“Ni-!” Another piece of this mare’s puzzle had found its way to me. “Nine years! You… don’t tell me you were…” I shook my head in disbelief, helping to clear my mind. “Were you… homeless, for that entire time?”

Lyra hung her head in defeat. “...Yes,” she exhaled.

I could only stare. That certainly explained a few things, yes indeed. This pony didn’t act much like she grew up in Canterlot, the notoriously stuck-up and pretentious capital of the pony world, a ten minute walk away from a literal physical goddess. Lyra seemed to me to be more… well, more like a human, really. An awful lot like me, when I was younger, as a matter of fact. Small wonder, then, why my heart bled for her so easily.

“...Right,” was the only thing that could come out of me, several seconds later. I had to pause and collect myself before I could try again. “I… I’m sorry.” Yet another pause came over us, letting me know a change in topic was called for. “Well, uh… what about before you left? You grew up there, right? How was that?”

That seemed to do the trick, at least a little; though Lyra still didn’t look too great, she at least started talking again. “That was better, at least. I was born into… a wealthy family, which was nice. I managed to get a scholarship into Celestia’s school – not for magic,” she clarified, seeing my uncomprehension on full display. “I… I had a private tutor, there, but I also got a place in their music program, for about a year. Then...” she trailed off, seemingly clamming up. I wasn’t going to pry; something else caught my attention.

“You were a musician?”

“I am one,” she corrected, rather sharply. I raised my hands in mock-surrender. “My apologies, I did not mean to snap, but it is something I feel strongly about.” She raised herself in her seat and thrust her flank in my direction – which made me quickly avert my eyes. “...What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” I retorted, my voice high and sharp.

“I’m… showing you my cutie mark?” Lyra sounded genuinely confused.

Oh. That’d explain it.

Sure enough, there was a tattoo stencilled on her rear, depicting what looked like a harp-type instrument – oh, right, a lyre. Of course that’s what it would be. Fuckin’ ponies, man.

“Oh, I see!” The realisation dawned on me far too late to save me the embarrassment. “...So music is your special talent, right?”

“That’s right,” she said, mercifully ignoring my apparent faux-pas. “That music program is where I got it from, actually. About… about nine months in...”

“Hmm,” I hummed, forcing her attention back on me just in time to stop her from spiralling down into herself, on whatever emotional roller-coaster she was on. “So that’s how you got by for nine years on your own? As a sort of travelling busker, or bard?”

“...Eight years, actually,” she said, disturbed. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” I smirked. “No, but really, it’s a bit of a stereotype back where I’m from, getting money practically thrown at street performers. At least as far as I remember things...” My mind caught a snag on what Lyra had said. “You said eight years? Why not nine?”

“Did you see my lyre when I knocked on your door?”

“...No?”

“Precisely.”

It took me a minute to get, but… “Oh. I see.” I swallowed heavily. “That must have been tough. Huh, no wonder you tried your luck with me.” Lyra nodded in agreement. “What happened to it?”

“I went to sleep with it one night, and I woke up the next morning without it,” she said, matter-of-factly but still tinged with sorrow.

I rubbed at my eyes, at a sudden loss for what to say. The action jostled my glasses, so I had to push them back up my nose. Lyra caught wind, and tilted her head. “Why do you wear those?”

“Because I need them to see better?” I was at a loss. Even in Canterlot, no-one had asked anything like that. “Don’t… ponies wear glasses, too?”

Lyra flushed, her cheeks turning red through the minty-green of her fur… somehow. “Well, yeah, but… you’re an alien. Why would aliens need to wear glasses?”

I snorted, but a thought hit me that stopped it short of a full laugh. “Hmh. I guess we aren’t as alien as we might first look to each other.”

“I suppose not.” Yet another silence developed. This stop-and-start conversation was quite typical of my usual kind of small talk, so I didn’t pay it any mind. I was perfectly content to sit and ponder, until another question hit up my brain. Or my partner’s, as the case may be – and as it was now. “I have a second question,” she said. “How did you manage to convince Blueblood to join you? I was under the impression that he was infamous for his, ah… sophistication.” Her tone made clear her true meaning of the word.

“It’s his job now,” I said. “Celestia appointed him as the Equestrian ambassador, so he’s here to stay.”

“Ambassador?” she parroted. “For what?”

“For the Free State.”

“Free State?”

I pinched my nose, irritated. “Yes. Celestia gave me some land as a joke and decreed me a sovereign ruler, in a letter. She even sent me all the legalese to prove it for real, not to mention Blueballs’ job here. In theory, what I say in the White Tail Woods, goes. Though, of course, right now it’s a legal fiction at best.”

“Wait!” Apparently, something I had said proved to be objectionable to her, judging by the way she sprung up in her seat in alarm. “You mean you actually meant it when you gave me citizenship? And called yourself Overlord?”

“Well...” My hesitation, coupled by my indecisive swaying of the head, took the wind out of her sails. “I mean, in theory, yes. In practice, though, I suspect if I piss off the Princess badly enough, I’ll be off to the dungeons, same as any other Equestrian. Still, though, I don’t see what she’d find so offensive about giving a pony a place to live, after everything you’ve gone through.”

And then, I was taken by surprise, as Lyra leapt off her chair to land in front of my feet, prostrating herself before me in much the same manner as a condemned man might to a king. “Overlord, I do severely apologise for my misconduct in your presence. Please-”

I had to cut her off, before she got too far. “Er, whoa, Lyra, calm yourself! Easy!” Mercifully, the cowering stopped. “Erm, rise? Please?” She obeyed. “Really, just calm down. I’m not gonna take offense.” I had to restrain myself from trying to pet her, I really did. Those eyes, man, there was something about them that I just couldn’t put my finger on. “Really, why are you ponies so quick to bow before me, anyway? Just because I was given a fancy title for no good reason?”

“I was raised to show deference to my social superiors,” she answered, almost inaudible with her head turned downwards, almost pointing at me with her horn. “I renounced my station when I left.”

“Hey.” I pushed her chin up with a hand, forcing her to look at me. I stared into her eyes, hand still on her chin, until she returned my gaze. “I don’t accept your deference to me. I’m no more or less special, or unique, or… or important, than you are. We’re both the same, deep down, anyway; we’re both just people. People who want to be happy and live good lives. I’m no superior to you.”

“How can you say that, Overlord?” Her tone was quite accusatory. I don’t think she believes me, my mind helpfully supplied to me. “You were given a sovereignty by Princess Celestia herself! How can you possibly claim to be exactly equivalent to vagrant scum?”

I gave her a pitying stare. “Three things, Lyra. One, is that you’re not ‘vagrant scum’ any longer, and God willing you never will be again. Understand?” An impromptu staring contest developed, which I quickly won when Lyra eventually acknowledged my words. "Second, is that Overlord, right now, is an empty title. I'm Supreme Overlord of a forest and a shack, at this moment.

“The third… Lyra,” I said, almost crooning her name, as if I was praying under my breath, invoking the name of some ancient deity. “You have value. More than you might know, even. You’re a musician, for one thing – hell, it’s your mark, for crying out loud! That’s one thing you’ve got over me; I was never for it, myself. And hey,” I dropped my voice to a low whisper, forcing her to lean closer to hear me. “This might not make sense, and it might not sound kind, but what you’ve gone through has made you strong. It’s made you stronger than me, in fact. I know, factually, I could not have gone through what you have, and come out sane on the other side. I’d have shattered inside a year. But you didn’t, and you’re here now, nine years later, and I promise you, that takes no small amount of strength. Of will, of mind, of body, you name it.

“So yes. That’s why I don’t see myself as superior to you, and that’s why I don’t want you to see me as superior to you.”

Lyra was stunned into silence – eyes wide, mouth vaguely open, the classic sight of incredulous disbelief. Even her ears were twitching. This time, I couldn’t resist reaching over to scratch behind them – which brought her out of her spell, shutting her eyes and leaning her head into my palm, just like she had done the first time, last night. Ponies loved scritches, apparently.

Lyra gave a hum of contentment. “...I cannot accept that answer, sire.” And just as last time, words now began to pour from her like water from a broken tap. "You are my superior. You gave a stranger a place to live, at your own expense, without knowing even the first thing about me. I-"

"Any person with even half an ounce of empathy would have done the same. I don't for a second believe that you wouldn't have done so for me, if our roles were reversed."

Lyra sagged against me. "I'm... I'm glad you think so, sire."

I exhaled, and smiled down at her. “Lyra?”

“Yes?”

“My friends call me Adam.”

Her eyes snapped open again, but shortly settled back down, instead letting a soft smile grace her features. “Okay... I think... I think I'll work on that." Her eyes fluttered open briefly, as if trying to blink sleep out of her eyes. Her smile, impossibly, became even warmer. "Adam.”

There we go, was all I could think, as Lyra clambered onto the couch at my behest, lying down next to me and settling her head down on her forelegs, me still petting her all the while. Dear Princess Celestia, today I made a new friend…

Comments

[FillCoulson]

You made me smile.

[Popamile]

I pinched my nose, irritated. “Yes. Celestia gave me some land as a joke and decreed me a sovereign ruler, in a letter. She even sent me all the legalese to prove it for real, not to mention Blueballs’ job here. In theory, what I say in the White Tail Woods, goes. Though, of course, right now it’s a legal fiction at best.”

Don't know if this was intentional or not but looking at the Equestria Map the White Tail Woods is perfectly placed for someone to search/discover the undiscovered west.

[Avercast]

This is pure and warm

[SolitariLupus]

Realistically, he shoulda burned those documents, told Celestia she's taking this shit too far and to lay the fuck off. And if she doesn't, well, she's losing a friend, if she really considered him one to throw that shit on him in the first place even as a joke, and that he's moving somewhere else.

I know, but then we wouldn't have this story, or at least in the form it is now, but this whole stories premise is a joke blown way the fuck out of proportion anyway.

[Biglulu]

I love the nation building genre. Glad to have found another fic in it. Lyra is cute.

Also, pro tip: people are statistically more likely to click on a story with a cover image. Any image at all.