Yer a Wizzard, Twilight!

by LoyalLiar

Rating: teen
Tags: Other, Princess Celestia, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy
Length: 2084

A young Twilight Sparkle learns she is the Chosen One of prophecy... though there seems to be some conflict about which prophecy.

To ponies who know about such things, it was always obvious Twilight Sparkle was somepony to watch. Somepony who would one day shape the world.

But there's a big difference between knowing that somepony is a 'Chosen One' and knowing what they've been chosen for.

On one fateful and frankly annoying day, a young Twilight faces an unexpected and frustrating conflict on just that subject.

Edited by Pega-ace and SolidFire; cover art by Ruirik.

Published 2017-10-27 21:00:06 UTC
Last updated 2017-10-27 21:00:06 UTC

or 'The Chosen One'

A five-year-old filly sat on the floor, assembling a series of colorful blocks. In this way, she was similar to any other five year old filly you might care to examine. However, unlike those other five year old fillies, Twilight Sparkle’s blocks had been assembled to define the universal law of gravitation.

The block for F-subscript-2 had been particularly difficult to find at the toy store.

The ‘gravitational constant’ block tumbled away from its place and onto the carpet when a veritable earthquake of hammering shook the door of the small Canterlot townhome. A moment later, Twilight’s father stood up from his morning paper and wandered to the door. Unfortunately, he was given no chance to actually open the sturdy wooden door. Wood cracked, hinges surged, and then, with a thud of pronounced finality and… well, heaviness, the door fell inward.

Standing in the now quite open doorway was the silhouette of a behemoth of a unicorn, easily griffon-sized and leaning calmly on a slightly bent umbrella. “Hello,” he said.

Or rather, he moreso said ‘Hullo’, in that most unusual of Canterlot accents reserved for ponies not born into fabulous wealth in the Equestrian capital.

“Um… hello?” Night Light couldn’t help but cock a brow. “Can I ask why you felt the need to buck in my door?”

“Oh, apologies. Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.” The pony in question lumbered into the Sparkle household without so much as a request for permission (proving that he was neither a vampire nor a fairy, but merely very rude). “‘Ere, let me help you with that.” And rather than grabbing the door, the unicorn used his green magic to wield his umbrella, which in turn spat out a burst of yellow magic to restore the door to its place in the wall.

As soon as the unicorn turned his back, the door fell over again. This irritated Twilight Sparkle, whose construction block thesis would once again need to be peer reviewed. The little filly stood up and scampered over to her father, who at this point had reached a finely controlled irritation made manifest in a slight heightening of his posture.

“Who are you?” Night Light demanded. “And why are you in my home?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The unicorn finally stepped away from the heavily thematic backlighting cast by the sunny Canterlot day outside, revealing his non-silhouetted appearance. Which is to say, it made his enormous beard visible. “Name’s Hag Grid, Mr. Sparkle. I work for Pig Pimples.”

“Pig Pimples?” Twilight’s burgeoning curiosity could no longer be contained by her father’s anger at the strange intruder. “Who’s that?”

“Ah, Twilight. You’ve gotten big since you was a baby.”

“Sir,” announced Night Light. “I’m certain you never knew my daughter as a foal, and if you do not leave promptly, I will be calling the Royal Guard.”

“Now, there’s no call for that, Mr. Sparkle. See, like Twilight asked, Pig Pimples isn’t a who. It’s a what. A school, Twilight. For wizards.”

“Like Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns?” Twilight asked, in that insufferable way of using the long-form name for an interesting tidbit that only a young child can wield.

“No, no,” said Hag Grid. “Not a school for unicorns, Twilight. Yer a wizard.”

Twilight cocked her head. “I… know. Well, I mean, I’m not very good yet, but um… I’ve got a horn the same as you.”

Hag Grid slapped his forehead with a shovel-sized hoof. “You’re not listening, Twilight. I’m not talking about just being a unicorn. You can do magic.”

“I know,” said Twilight. “That’s what unicorns do.”

“Gah!” Hag Grid slapped himself on the forehead. “Look, Twilight, yer the chosen one! The filly who lived!”

Night Light, ever the protective father, scowled further at the introduction of yet another name for his daughter. “And just what is that meant to mean?”

“Well, see, a thousand years ago there was this evil pony—”

“A thousand years?!” Night Light protested. “Twilight is five!”

His protests were broken off by the appearance of another pony’s silhouette in the doorway. Unlike Hag Grid, this pony was concealed by a heavy cloak, such that his or her form could only be described as ‘small’. Tiny, even. Diminutive. Miniscule.

In case this is unclear, the silhouette of the pony was shorter than five-year-old Twilight.

“Hmmm…” the pony uttered with a sense of wisdom and finality. “Busy, the household of Sparkle is. Sorry, I am, if inconvenient this time is. But the chosen one I must speak to. Speak to I must? Ah. To the chosen one, I must speak.”

“Who’re you, then?” Hag Grid asked, scowling at the new appearance.

“Yes, quite,” said Night Light, stepping protectively toward his daughter.

“Yodel, you may call me. Master Yodel.” Then, to Twilight’s amazement, this ‘yodel’ raised an oddly claw-like hoof and waved it in Night Light’s direction. “Burning, your pancakes are. Tend to them you should.”

Night Light seized up. “Burning are my… my pancakes are burning! Oh no! I didn’t know I was cooking pancakes!” And, in a visibly nervous wreck, the stallion left his daughter in the care of two complete strangers who were actively in the process of breaking and loitering, and darted into his kitchen.

“Now, privacy we have. Speak to you I must, Twilight Sparkle. Great, the prophecy is concerning you. Balance, to the Force you will bring.”

“Why do you talk funny, Mr. Yodel?” Twilight asked.

Yodel let out a little hum. “When nine hundred years old you reach, about subject-object-verb ordering, give a damn you will not. But important that is not. A Jedi you are, Twilight Sparkle. The chosen one, of prophecy, you are.”

“Woah, hold on,” said Hag Grid. “She’s my chosen one, and I was here first. Twilight’s comin’ to Pig Pimples.”

“Three chosen ones already have I missed this season. Taking the irritating colt with the scar, I will not be,” Yodel retorted forcefully.

“What’s a Jedi?” Twilight asked.

The question put a smile on Yodel’s face, and he ignored Hag Grid’s protests. “Gifted with power, we Jedi are. Guardians we are, of peace and justice.”

“Oh, like guardsponies?”

Yodel shook his head. “Keep the peace, your guards do. But leave this world, they do not. And use the Force, they do not. Also, clones they are. All white. A tool of the dark side.”

“Uh… okay? But my big brother’s a white guardspony, and—”

“Not your brother. A clone, he is.”

Twilight frowned slightly, deciding she didn’t care for the little green stallion. “What’s the force?”

“Capital F,” Yodel corrected, without clarifying how he could hear Twilight’s incorrect pronunciation. “Powerful it is. Between living things, a field of energy —”

“Oh, you mean magic!” Twilight smiled in the joy of comprehension. “So you’re running a unicorn school too?”

“No!”

“I told you, Pig Pimple’s isn’t a unicorn school, it’s a wizard school!” Hag Grid shouted. “Now you, Mister Yodel, and your weird little robes had best just… piss off, and let me get this filly where she ought to be.”

Master Yodel frowned. The tiny earth pony thing’s hood fell off his head, and from his belt, he produced a tiny metal magic wand. “A servant of the dark side, you are, Hag Grid.”

Then, to young Twilight’s amazement, a beam of pure green magic, or something similar, erupted from Yodel’s metal wand. “Leave, you must, or turn to violence, I will be forced to…” Yodel briefly hesitated. “Turn to violence I will be forced? Ah! Be forced, I will, to turn to violence.”

“I assure you, Master Yodel, that will not be necessary.” At the pronouncement of the decidedly regal voice, Twilight, Hag Grid, and Yodel all turned toward the Sparkle’s broken-down doorway. There, floating visibly into the room, was Princess Celestia.

This was not, however, the Princess Celestia that most ponies were used to. Celestia sat upright in what might have been called a wheelchair, save for its lack of proper wheels. Equally noticeable to her apparent handicap, the Princess’ scalp was covered not in a massive mass of pastel drool, but was instead utterly bald—not just of her usual hair, but also of the white fur that most ponies would assume to be located beneath it. Instead, raw pink flesh shone with the light of a thousand suns.

“Princess!” gasped Hag Grid.

“Emperor Celestia,” Yodel frowned. “Forgotten to bring your clone army, have you?

“Princess Celestia!” Twilight Sparkle cried with apparent joy.

Yes, Twilight Sparkle. Though you may prefer to think of me as Professor Celestia. The words were not spoken, but they rang out in Twilight’s mind just as clearly as they might have through her ears. I’ve come to you because you are a filly with very special powers.

“Well, not to break the silence as such,” grumbled Hag Grid. “But is there anything you’re wanting, Princess?”

Celestia ignored him. It has come to my attention, Twilight Sparkle, that you possess something we might call ‘magic’.

Twilight nodded. “Well, of course. I’m a unicorn, right?”

Yodel coughed into his hoof. “Confused, this one is. Being a unicorn, the source of her abilities, she believes.”

“Ah, that’s rubbish,” grumbled Hag Grid. “It’s cause she’s a wizard.”

Celestia frowned. We prefer the term ‘Mutant’, Mr. Hag Grid.

“A Jedi Knight, she is.”

“I don’t know what any of these things are, I swear, but I’m just a normal unicorn. Normal. Unicorn. The only special powers I have are from my horn, the same way pegasi can fly.” Twilight’s petulant (if accurate) insistence served as an excellent reminder of her youth. “Or how earth ponies are better at farming.”

“Oh, blimey. Just a wee filly, and she’s already a unicorn supremacist.” Hag Grid shook his head in dismay.

Celestia replied with a shake of her own head. Youth are impressionable—if racism exists in youth, you need look no further than the guardian. I shall have to have strong words with Mr. Night Light on this subject.

“Her surroundings to blame are not, hrrmm? Flooded with unicorn clones, Canterlot is. Systemic, your racism is, Empress Celestia. Even her brother, a clone, is. A clone even… ah, whatever.”

They are not clones, Master Yodel! Celestia protested. For the last time, they are simply dyed that way because—

“Because you like ‘em that color in bed, right?”

The voice in question directed all eyes toward the doorway, where a zebra in an eyepatch and a long black coat entered the room. “What are y’all lookin’ at? I didn’t come here for the circus.”

“Hrrmm… Master Wind Yew. Expecting you, I was not.”

The zebra glared. “What, we all look the same to you or something? I ain’t no ‘Wind Yew’. Name’s Nick Furry. And I’m here, because I heard there was some little filly I needed to recruit to my ‘Revenger’s Initiative.’”

She’s already spoken for. But perhaps you might have some thoughts for us, Mr. Furry. We were just discussing how to deal with the fact that young Twilight is apparently a unicorn supremacist.

“What, with the white pointy hats?”

“No, a clone guardspony, she is not.”

Nick Furry gave Master Yodel a stare which quite clearly said ‘Dafuq?’.

“In any case,” said Hag Grid, “I figure whichever one of us gets the filly is probably gonna have to be in charge of teaching her that unicorns aren’t better than other races.”

“I never said that!” Twilight protested. “I just said that I’m just a unicorn! I have a horn, and I can use magic.”

“No, Twilight, you’re more than that,” said Nick Furry.

“Yer a wizzard.”

“No, a Jedi Knight you are. The Chosen One.”

She is the chosen one, but not as a so-called ‘Jedi’. Twilight, you are a mutant.

“Why can’t I just be Twilight?!” The filly screamed and ran away as the adults argued amongst themselves. Up the stairs to her room she ran, and with all her filly might, she slammed the door. Only when the lock was latched and Twilight had flopped onto her bed did she finally feel at peace. A heavy sigh escaped her lips.

Suddenly, a burst of lightning filled the center of her room. Twilight screamed, and a moment later, a muscle-bound buck-naked and clean-shaven unicorn stallion rose from the floor. As he lifted his head, the flesh of one side of his face fell away, revealing a wicked sick robot eye.

“Twalaght Spahkle. Come with me if you want to live.”