So this all starts off round about last Friday night. I was out havin' a couple of drinks with an old friend of mine. I ain’t gonna name names. We were down at Southern Comfort's place, just sittin' at a table and swapping stories about ponies we used to know, when these two stallions walk in. Couple of earth ponies, not quite my size but solid looking, laughing at some joke. They bellied up to the bar and hollered at old Comfort for a couple 'brewskies'. The mare sitting with me just grinned and muttered something 'bout frat colts, and we went back to chattin'.

Few minutes later, my friend's up at the bar grabbing us a fresh round, since magic's handier for carrying a couple glasses than hooves, and things start to go downhill. As she's on her way back, I catch the closer of the two frat colts leering at her flanks, and give him a good glare to warn him off. I may be a pegasus, but I ain't no pushover, so he settles down and gets his eyes back to himself.

Apparently he couldn't hold his beer any better than he could mind his manners, though. As we were gettin' back to talking, the two started goin' back and forth, drunkenly loud, discussing somepony they saw earlier. Now I'm a simple pony, and content ta mind my own business, but where I was raised a stallion don't go talkin' bout how much he'd like ta be havin' relations with some mare at the top of his voice, in a crowded bar. T’ain't civil nor decent.

Ol' Comfort threatened to cut 'em off, and they quieted down, but my friend was starting to look a mite irritated herself. She's not one to stand for listening to another mare put down, and a few minutes later the two idiots were back at volume. I couldn't help but overhear 'em, and what I was hearin' set my blood to boilin'. I'll spare ya the details, but they were discussin' a certain rainbow-haired weather pony, and how somepony that lazy had to have slept her way into a cushy assignment like Ponyville.

Now I could see my friend's temper gettin' the best of her, and to be fair the wiskey in my belly was agreein' with her pretty strongly, but I wasn't gonna start something in a bar. But when I heard one of 'em say 'I bet she had her own stall back at Weather Service Headquarters. Working for that promotion, head down and plot high!', it was the last straw.

The little lady beat me to it, though. By the time I tossed back the last of my whiskey an got up, she was already in that blonde-maned little foal's face, tellin him off. I didn't hear everything she said, but what I did hear woulda' made a sailor blush and ask for pointers, ending with 'And if that's how you talk about mares, no wonder you're cuddlin' with your colt friend here on a Friday night!'

This is where things got a little hairy, because that dumbflank hauled off and slapped her right across the muzzle with a hoof. Now, where I'm from, there's two rules ya need to remember. First, you don't ever hit a mare. Period. And second, if your friend's in a fight, -you- darn well got a fight on yer hooves too.

Needless to say, he only had a second or so to stand there feelin' like a big ol' stallion 'fore I took my hooves to him, and we ended up rollin' around on the floor, kickin' and wrestling. Now my daddy taught me to fight, and he told me ‘Son, if you're in a fight, fair ain't even something to think about. Fight ta win’. That advice ain't failed me so far, so first chance I got, I took a chunk out o' his ear with m' teeth, then bucked him in the fracas so hard I heard the crowd wince.

Just as soon as he stopped thrashin' round on the floor, I scrambled to my hooves, expecting his buddy to light into me any minute now... just in time to see him go down after a mighty thwack from an empty whiskey bottle my little mare friend had wrapped in her magic. He went out like somepony just put out his candle.

I'd hoped we'd get out of there before we got into any more trouble than payin' Southern Comfort for the table and the bottles, but luck ain't never been my friend. The City Watch showed up a couple minutes later, and I spent the night in their nice, clean drunk tank, waitin' to see a judge.

Throat’s gettin’ a little dry, lemme grab a bit of a drink an we’ll finish up.

First thing in the mornin', the Guard came in an rousted me out, and let me tell you I was feelin' my age something fierce. I aint as tough as I once was, and the black eye and mess of bruises had started to stiffen up overnight. So I was limpin' a bit and not payin' too close of attention when they escorted me into the courtroom, 'til I heard the Judge's voice and looked up to see the flowing pastel locks of our beloved Princess behind the bench.

Now I ain't afraid to say the bottom dropped out of my stomach at that point. Simple bar fights aren't somethin that needs to go in front of the Princess by a country mile, so her bein' here could only mean my mornin was about to go from bad to worse.

So I stump my way up to the front, givin' the two frat colts sittin' in the front row a dirty look in the process, and listen to the clerk read out the charge. Turns out, just my luck, those two idiots were the newest members of the Royal Guard. Explains why Princess Celestia was in the court, at any rate. He went on for a while, quoting 'assault on an officer' this, and 'high treason' that, and just generally outlined a desire to see me put someplace they'd have to ship in sunlight. Celestia listenened through the charges, then turned to look down at me and asked a simple question.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself, -Lietenant-?”

I winced at that. Knowin’ my rank meant she’d read my records too, and to be fully honest with everypony, this wasn’t exactly my first time in front of the bench for fightin’. I ain’t never suffered fools gladly, and too many young gaurd-types were too quick to look down on the Weather Service and start mockin’ us for sport. But it’s not like I’d lie to her. She’s the Princess, for hay’s sake! So I told her the truth, what I remembered of it. She looked a little irritated when we got to the words that set off the fight, and called my friend out of the audience to confirm what had been said, before turning back to us.

“Gentleponies,” She said, “Here is my decision. Lieutenant Whiteout, you are hereby docked two weeks’ pay to compensate for the damage caused by the fight. I trust there will be no repetition of this incident.”

Headache or no, I nodded firmly. When your ruler says knock it off, you do it.

To my surprise, she then turned to the two colts who’d been fighting with me. “As for you two... clearly you do not have the tact and restraint I require of My guards, if you feel the need to insult one of my Elements so crudely in public. I suspect your training was lacking. Report to the Seargeant of the Guard, he will teach you -proper- discipline.”

It did my heart good to see them go from self-righteous to apprehensive, let me tell you. The Princess dismissed us a few minutes later, and my friend got me back to my place where I collapsed on the couch and slept off the hurt.

Other than the docked pay, I didn’t get any -offical- sanctions, so I think I came out with the best deal I could’ve had. But I’m sure I ain’t heard the last of those two.

Author's Notes:

Yes, yes. This is pure OC fic. I wrote this quite a while back when I was considering doing a tumblr ask-blog for an OC. I ended up deciding to turn him into my author avatar instead, but I still have a lot of ideas for his particular take on Equestria, so I'll post a few of them now and then.

This story also exists in radio drama form :

https://soundcloud.com/mlp-whiteout/whiteout-meets-a-princess-1

https://soundcloud.com/mlp-whiteout/whiteout-meets-a-princess-2