Britanon in Equestria - Chapter 5

>The day started out so well. It seemed so safe, and tranquil.
>Now you were bruised, battered, and had been thoroughly sick. And while the chariot is supernaturally steady in its flight, you’re absolutely terrified.
>No doubt the rails would have finger marks in them by the end of the trip.
>Mercifully, it seems the ride is coming to a close. Ahead of you is a city of marble and gold, perched on the side of a cliff. You wonder how safe that is for a moment, before mentally filing it away under ‘magic horses’ and deciding to ignore it.
>Regardless of its integrity, the whole thing is quite beautiful. Especially the castle at the very edge. You’d probably appreciate it more if it didn’t feel like a hammer was banging on your eyelids.
>The chariots swoop in to land, in a long, walled courtyard. There are more guards here, posted along the walls at regular intervals. Most of them seemed to be unicorns, for some reason.
>They move to surround your chariot as soon as its wheels touch the ground. The purple unicorn says a few hurried words to them, and they return to their positions, not taking their eyes off you.
>You’re gently led off the chariot and inside. Your legs are so shaky that you can barely stay upright, and if you had anything left in your stomach you’d definitely throw it up.
>The doors and corridors here are much taller than back at the yellow pegasus’s house. You don’t have to stoop down at all! And they’re so clean and shiny, too!
>A very important horse must live here. Maybe you’ll find one that can speak your language?
>Or maybe you’ll be executed, or thrown in a zoo.
>Wow, you really didn’t need that thought. What the hell, brain.

>After what feels like an eternity of walking, you’re ushered through a pair of golden, ornately-patterned doors. The six horses that came with you walk in behind you.
>You were expecting maybe an office of some kind. Or perhaps a throne room? Do these horses have a monarchy?
>Instead, it seems to just be a waiting room of some kind. A few bookshelves here and there, some tastefully tasteless artwork on the walls.
>There’s a table in the centre of the room, with a chair at one end, and a large cushion on the floor at the other.
>Strange how this chair has a back to it. Maybe it’s not built with horses in mi-IS THAT A BLOODY TEAPOT?!
>It is! Sitting on the table is a large porcelain teapot. Surrounded by plates, tea cups, jugs, all of the necessary equipment.
>There’s even a little silver cake-stand, practically straining under the weight of all the little cupcakes. Just looking at it makes you feel sick, you definitely couldn’t stomach any of that right now.
>But, still! Tea! You wonder if it tastes better here than it does at home. Considering what the water tastes like here, it probably tastes heavenly.

>A door at the other end of the room opens, and in walks what you assume to be some kind of leader horse.
>It’s much taller than all the others, and its proportions are more like the horses you have back home. It’s also unique in that it has both wings and a horn.
>It’s coat is a radiant white, and it has a drawing of the sun emblazoned on its flanks.
>Actually, now that you think about it, all the other horses have marks on their flanks as well. What’s up with that?
>Never mind. Magic horses. Ask about it later.
>It’s hair is absolutely beautiful. It shimmers and sparkles in all the colours of the northern lights, and it constantly flutters as if caught in an intangible breeze.
>As you stare at it in awe, your eyes slowly drift upward to the crown on its head.
>Ohhhh shit. Royalty.

>Okay, stay calm Anon.
>You’re British. If anyone can handle meeting a monarch, it’s you.
>Feet together, back straight, eyes forward.
>Ma’am as in harm, not m’am as in ham.
>At your sudden posturing, your bandaged ankle and your bruised everywhere else hurt in protest. You try not to let it show.
>It walks over to the pillow and sits down, practically oozing regality. It then looks at you, and points its horn towards the empty seat, a small smile on its lips.
>”Sit”
>You begin to move towards the table, but hesitate. Something about her smile scares you. “You speak my language, ma’am?” you ask it.
>”I speak many languages” the queen horse replies, still smiling. “Please, sit”
>You do so, slowly lowering yourself into the chair. You put your hands on the knees and keep your eyes fixed on the table.
>A few, agonising seconds of silence pass, the ticking of a clock on the wall being the only sound. The queen horse clears her throat.
>”Look at me, please”
>Your eyes flick up to meet hers. You intended for it to last just a moment, but once they met you found yourself unable to look away. Her eyes seemed to fill your world.
>That, and her ever-present smile. And her softly glowing horn.
>Suddenly, memories of all kinds explode within your mind. They don’t seem to appear in any particular order.
>Memories of you as a child. Of you from only a few days ago.
>Your first words, your first day of school. Your first kiss.
>Your first fight. Your first insult. Your first abuse of power over another.
>The best moments of you and your life flash before your eyes.
>And the worst.
>As quickly as it began, it ends. The experience leaves you feeling cold, and nauseous. You’re sick of feeling nauseous, quite frankly.
>Another few seconds of silence pass as the queen horse stares at you, her face scrutinising yours. Then she smiles again, and this time it seems genuine.
>”Hello, Anonymous. I am Princess Celestia. Welcome to Equestria.”