Once Upon A Time, In The Magical Land of Equestria...
“And then, the young princess hung her head; for though she had been humiliated by her flaws having been brought to light by the dark magic spell, she smiled, knowing her friends would never truly leave her side-”
“...sister?”
Princess Celestia, regent of Equestria, jolted into awareness. In the mirror, she spied her sister, Luna, staring at her with a cross expression. Quickly, Celestia rolled up the scroll she was working on and slid it under a pillow, giving her sister her warmest smile and only a soft blush. “I'm sorry if I missed our dinner - but I had a wonderful idea come to mind, and you know how plot ferrets can be,” Celestia giggled at her old joke, “you must pin them down while young, or you can never catch them again...”
“Right,” Luna said, nowhere near as impressed with Celestia's old humor. “Still, sister, you gave me cause to worry.” (Well, in truth, cause to seethe, for Luna knew full well what Celestia got up to with a quill and scroll.) “The hour has grown late, and-”
“Oh, the hour?” Celestia started to rise from her bed, her writing implements having been snuck into what she thought was a clever hiding spot. “Pray tell, what time is it?”
“Three hours past sunset," Luna deadpanned.
Princess Celestia squeaked in surprise, and jumped up. “Oh, the sun! Oh, I haven't been this late in years-”
“Relax, dear sister,” Luna said, rolling her eyes as she circled Celestia. “I took care of it for our subjects.” She put a mild stress to the last three words.
“Oh? Well... good, good,” Princess Celestia said, smiling softly. She did her best to keep her eyes from straying back to her scrollcase, before she forced herself to meet Luna's eyes. “So, shall we still break bread together, or-”
“Celestia- stop,” Luna said, stomping her hoof; when Celestia's surprised eyes stayed on Luna for a full five seconds, Luna sighed, and continued. “Yes, perhaps we shall. But before we do that, I have to talk with you, dear sister. I have seen you growing worse and worse these past few weeks and - frankly, Tia, I'm starting to get scared.” Luna looked her sister in the eyes, stepping closer - the invisible border between regents and sisters crossed. “What has happened to you?”
Celestia’s blush returned to her cheeks, and she couldn’t quite meet her sister’s gaze. “I… I have just been inspired lately, is all.” Her head rose – not quite enough – and a wistful, faraway smile filled her face. “It has me in its grasp, you see. All I want to do is put pen to parchment and let the words flow. There are characters – stories – entire world on the other side of my quill, and I just set them free…”
Luna, for a moment, sat in stunned silence; then, once she had composed herself, shook her head. “But this has been going on for the better part of three months, Tia. I have known you to get caught up in flights of fancy, yes; remember when you fell in love with neipponese animation?”
“The world’s first, and to date longest, marathon of marathons,” Celestia chuckled in agreement. Luna almost hated to continue, to see her sister’s laugh, but she had to press on-
“These stories have taken you completely. Even during your marathon, you still took care of your royal duties.” In a much smaller voice, Luna sighed, “You still made time for me.”
“Lulu…” Celestia shook her head, and sighed – but more at herself, than at her sister. “I… I’m sorry I’ve neglected us, in all this.” She smiled. “Let me make it up to you, sister. We can be at – say, Silver Springs – in minutes; it’s about as far away from our duties - and my writing desk – as you can get in our nation. Remember their little honey rolls?”
“Oooh, yes! Those tiny ones sprinkled in thyme!” Luna clapped eagerly. “It has been ages, hasn’t it? Oh, I would so love that!”
“Excellent,” Celestia grinned, as she made the way to the balcony, opening the door for her sister. “Then let’s be off at once. And when we get there, I have such fantastic ideas to share with you!”
“Oh?” Luna grinned, as she cantered behind her sisters. “It has been some time since we last talked.”
“Yes. And such wonderful ideas they are,” Celestia cooed, stretching her out-of-use wings and giving them an experimental flap. “For example: Let’s say that the Elements of Harmony had a natural antipode – something singular, and something chaotic, a force of change and disharmony and malevolence. An… agent of discord, shall we say… oh! That would be the perfect name!”
“Discord?” Luna deadpanned.
“No! The Agent!” Celestia grinned, prancing in place. “He doesn’t need to be explained, but he doesn’t have to be explained. Just ‘the Agent’. Implies a great big conspiracy with his suave words and his fine suit and his chaotic appearance. He appears and suddenly, bam, everything we know about the world has to be re-examined-”
Luna did her best to hold back a snarl, although she wasn’t sure how well she did. “Celestia, stop.”
Celestia whirled in surprise. “What-what is wrong, Lulu?”
“Don’t ‘Lulu’ me, sister,” Luna growled, stepping past the invisible border between sisters and someone who’s about to poke you in the chest. “First off – we are not going to use this dinner just to talk about your stories!” Celestia almost had time to respond before Luna brought herself to her full height. “And about these stories of yours? I’m going to tell you a secret, Celestia-” Luna took a breath, and closed her eyes, before shouting out the only way to say it she could think of: “They aren’t any good! You have created-created a Mary Sue!”
“What do you mean,” Celestia said nervously, her wings aflutter for reasons unrelated to flight. “I-I haven’t printed my stories.”
Luna smirked. “Is that so, Mary Prancett?”
Celestia squeaked, then looked about herself quickly – then drew her sister in, hissing conspiratorially, “How did you learn that name?”
“Please, sister,” Luna said, rolling her eyes. “I read ‘Mary Prancett’s’ novels and I can only hear your voice, your use of verbs, your pauses and inflections of speech.” Luna sighed bitterly. “Some days, it’s the only way I can hear you…”
Celestia, however, was an expert at using guilt, and was immune to Luna’s wounded words. “Well, then, Luna – name one thing bad about my stories.”
“Well, first things first,” Luna said, her eyes cross. “There’s the fact that you’re basically ripping off of five living ponies.”
“I am not,” Celestia said indignantly. “I am just drawing my inspiration from life!”
“The town of Equinia. In that town, there are five certain ponies. One, a daredevil pegasus in pink and blue style. Swap the hair and coat color, replace the ‘feminine’ pink hair with equally stereotypical rainbow hair, and you get Rainbow Dash, adventurer and the heroine’s primary love interest.”
“She’s not a love interest,” Celestia blurted, before covering her mouth.
“No more than all of them are,” Luna teased. “Next: A little yellow earth mare, with pink mane. Gentle and kind. Give her a love of animals, make her a pegasus, and you have Fluttershy-“
“It’s not true!” Celestia shouted. “Ponies in current events were only inspirations, nothing more, I promise you!”
“Now, you do the reverse – start with a pegasus and make an earth mare out of her. You don’t have a description, so you make her two-tone pink; and so, a filly named Surprise becomes Pinkie Pie-”
“Luna, you have made your point,” Celestia said dangerously.
“Then, there’s a little orange earth mare. You didn’t even bother to change her name at all-”
“Enough!”
Celestia looked Luna in the eye, dangerously close. “I admit. I have researched very close to life. But that only adds an element of verisimilitude to the production.”
Luna rolled her eyes. “And there you bring up your second flaw. Verisimilitude.”
“Verisimilitude?” Princess Celestia asked, the unwieldy term already approaching semantic sanitation. “I have no idea how seeming familiar can be a flaw in writing.”
“No, sister,” Luna said with the patience of a teacher who is realizing none of her present peers have the faintest clue what the teacher is talking about. “That word itself. Verisimilitude. Yes, if you’re familiar with old Equestrian, it makes perfect sense. Yes, if you’re quite well read, it makes perfect sense. But seriously, sister – who speaks like that in this day and age?”
“It’s a perfectly valid word,” Celestia pouted. “And I just like the sound of it! Ve-ri-si-mi-”
“It, and other words like it, play a big part in why your works are so inapproachable,” Luna sighed. “I admit, even I have to stop and pause when I see a word like ‘obligiornal’ or ‘advocarium,’ much less our subjects who don’t have the advantages of our long educations.”
“Well, if they’re not using these words,” the elder princess huffed, “why are we bothering to fund the dictionary, then?”
Luna raised her hoof to her forehead and groaned. “Look, sis. This goes far beyond your outright plagiarism of the lives of actual ponies, or the sesquipedalian verbosity of your works-”
“If ‘verisimilitude’ is invalid then what gives sesquipedalian a pass?” Celestia purred smugly.
Luna stomped, finally losing her temper. “Look! It’s not just those two things. There is a gaping flaw in your stories. One that has weighed your stories down from the very beginning. One that takes every good idea, every witty quip, every interesting character, and – and-” Luna tossed her head, reaching for a metaphor that wasn’t coming, until she blurted out the first turn of phrase that approached her intended meaning: “just positively slathers your story in the gravy of tedium!”
Celestia blinked, quite unsure how to handle a metaphor of that size, and nodded. “I see…”
“It’s your protagonist,” Luna continued, advancing on Celestia. “The Young Princess. And – oh, I think I shall begin my rebuttal by telling you there are adjectives and adjectival phrases besides ‘young’ you could use. ‘Purple.’ ‘Smart.’ ‘New.’ ‘Recently crowned.’ You use the phrase ‘young princess’ so often that it might as well be the title of your series. Or – and perhaps this is too wild an idea, but hear me out – you could use her name, dear sister!”
“Well – it is a bit of a mouthful,” Celestia stammered. “I mean, four syllables, and it can’t be abbreviated down to two without seeming-“ Celestia grinned sheepishly. “Without seeing very pretentious.”
“Then why choose a name that long?”
“Because it’s beautiful,” Celestia smiled, and sighed wistfully. “There’s a story I’ve told in my forewords, but it’s utterly true – one day, after the sun had set, I was watching the skies – and there, on the horizon, a faint glimmer. The first star! A beacon of hope against oncoming darkness – that even in the bleakest hour, there is always hope – there will always always light.” Celestia turned her most winning smile on her sister. “You know, I originally based her character on you, sister dear…”
Luna blushed, her wings aflutter in surprise. “On me?”
“Oh, yes. In many ways, I consider her the spitting image of you,” Celestia cooed. “Dark in tone when most ponies are light; an adorable level of – awkwardness,” Celestia smiled. “And passions – oh, yes, passion in everything she does. I fleshed her out as the story needed, of course, so she is no carbon copy, but…”
“I… well…” Luna stammered. “I… I thank you for the hidden praise, Tia,” Luna said. “But I still think there is more of you in her, than there is me. To start – her, well, her cutie mark.”
“What of it?”
“Well… a stylized starburst? Quite similar to your own stylized sunburst?” Luna shook her head. “It is good that your publicity photos are from the head up…”
Celestia frowned, but stayed quiet.
“Then, there is the matter of her special talent: Magic. Honestly, Celestia,” Luna deadpanned. “Her special talent, quite literally, is being more special than everyone around her.”
“But that’s a valid talent,” Celestia objected. “I mean, Star Swirl the Bearded-“
“-was one of the ten most important ponies in Equestrian history. And you claim that your protagonist came from common birth and lived a life in quiet study.”
“Star Swirl went to public school,” Celestia muttered bitterly.
“But beyond this. Her strength is – well, being good at everything. What is her flaw? What motivates her?”
“Why? Well, her friends, of course,” Celestia tittered, as if explaining the simplest thing in the world. “All her friends are very dear to her, and she can’t stand to let them down. And she views every failure as letting someone down – her friends, her teachers, her self…”
“So, she is trying too hard to be right.” Luna shook her head. “I’m sorry, Tia, but that is not a flaw. That is an author rocking back and forth in her seat telling herself that a single negative trait a fully-fledged character makes.”
“But she learns!” Celestia shouted, on the edge of screaming. “As she goes through the series, she changes and adapts!”
“Immediately, when the plot calls for it. Normal ponies start ignorant of their fault, then move on to suffering for their fault, denying their fault, justifying their fault, exploring their fault, attempting to override their fault, and – after a long, road of trials – learning to live with their fault. Each step along this path is a story arc in and of itself. With your stories – well, it’s far simpler. Rainbow Dash thinks books are nerdy. Rainbow Dash has an epiphany in a Very Special Episode – caused by an injury, no less. Rainbow Dash is now seen reading constantly. Unfortunately, Tia, character flaws do not stop on a dime when the plot demands,” Luna laughed bitterly. “I know this all too well.”
“I think you have stepped too far, Lulu,” Celestia said venomously. “We have a dinner to attend, so shall we be off?”
Luna watched as her sister beat her wings, carefully alighting in the air – and pointedly not turning around to face her sister and accuser. Luna let the moment hang in the air, hoping a moment’s breath would defuse her sister’s tension, then spoke up- “Twilight Sparkle?”
“Yes?” Celestia answered, turning around in midair.
“AHA!” Luna crowed. “Finally the truth comes out! You responded to her name! At long last,” she giggled victoriously. “Twilight Sparkle. The ordinary girl who is magically destined. The girl who makes friends wherever she goes. The girl who saved the world time and again and still gets to live a quiet life reading in her personal tree library.” Luna grinned. “And now you can see the truth, plain as day. The lonely filly who just needed friendship – the girl who could do anything, if people just believed in her – that’s you, Tia! Twilight Sparkle is you!”
Celestia, for a moment, was stunned, tears in her eyes. But she managed to fight the rising soreness in her throat, and growled, “How dare you, sister.” Raising herself up to her full height in midair, Celestia spread her wings and hooves wide in accusation.
“Yes, sister – I have put things of myself in my stories. So what if I am-” Celestia choked for a moment, then cleared her throat and continued- “-a little lonely? These are my stories – for my own joy – and if anyone else finds worth in them, well, I am only glad. I create adventures. I describe joy. I put hope and joy and happiness on the page for their own sake – and use the values of my Elements to protect them from the darkness of the world, even if the world is in truth rarely so kind. Even to its princesses.” Celestia rolled her eyes, and threw her hooves down in exasperation. “What more would you have me do, sister?”
For a moment, there was a dangerous silence between the two – and Luna backed down first, hanging her head in shame. “I… I’m sorry,” Luna stammered. “I-I suppose these traits should not have been seen as faults. And for that, I apologize.”
“Apology accepted,” Celestia said begrudgingly. “Now, let us be off.”
“Before we go!” Luna raised her head, her own eyes filled with tears she rapidly blinked away- “At least let me get you an editor.” Luna gave her sister her most winning smile. “I know full well that Raven fancies you-” Luna stammered, her true intentions laid bare for a moment; then, she played it off as a stutter and continued- “-your writing, and I know she is both a witty critic and a sharp-eyed proofreader. If you would but share them with her, first, the two of you could-”
“An editor? Really, sister?” Celestia rose another two feet, her face twisted in rage. “You think me some kind of-foal, some kind of child who is incapable of reading her own work? Someone who is so blind as to be ignorant to the very story they are writing – and you would chain me to an editor’s desk like some kind of- of- common, wage-labor sports writer?” Celestia closed her eyes, brought her breath in deep, and bellowed for all the world to hear:
“I-I hate you, Luna!”
With that, Celestia spread her wings, and in a single powerful beat, was off – her hooves over her head as the author sped away, powering as hard as her wings would allow and gaining speed and altitude with each beat. Luna strained to watch Celestia, as she flew off towards the horizon, to the clouds, above them, and out of sight.
“Huh. I guess that means I can’t tell her about my idea for a storyline about the redemption of a dark princess, then.”
