I was a simple little foal
With more riches than I could hold
I only wanted to break free
and craft the potions that you see
But I paid a terrible price
My mother wasn't so nice
A proper lady does not make
She only looks and only takes
'Twas a life not made for me
And so came the killing spree
I ran off to the plains so deep
And drifted off to a restless sleep
~~~
I woke up, Dawn rising in the sky. I smiled, finding comfort in the quietness of the open plains. I flexed my small hooves, not yet feeling like my own from the sleepiness. Looking up at the colored clouds, I decided on two things:
Breakfast I must now intake
Potions- How would they I make?
The whole reason I left was to create, to build. But these plains seemed devoid of anything...but...grass. What could I make from grass.Commoners ate grass. Then again, what was I, now?
"You did this!" cried the Queen. She held a face of hatred, but I could see the twisted humor behind those eyes. You got what you asked for, they seemed to say.
I shivered at the flashback as I choked down the bland grass. What did I ask for?
" I want only to create,Why is it I you must hate?
I know Father had an untimely d-"
"Shut up with your stupid rhymes!" I felt like crying, but stood up. "Do not taint the memory of King Ferrere with your creative crap!" She snapped at me.
I finished the unsatisfying meal, wondering why Zebra Royalty decided that no one could do anything...remotely...fun. To be level-headed rulers, according to my sister.
"I hate the rule too, Zacarliana. But long ago, the Panel decreed rulers or heirs or anyone influential couldn't have hobbies or quirks, or they are unfit to rule. Father wanted to change the rule...but he's so sick now..."
I frowned. Did other kingdoms keep that rule? I didn't know much about them, except most of them had four legs like us.
Zacarliana. A name tainted by my mother. She made an example of me, saying that the crime was a direct result of my creativity. I will forever speak in rhyme, And I will change my name.
A princess I no longer may be
But a zebra forever, by the stripes you see
Zebarliana is too long
The B does not roll on the tongue
Zecarly sound of cacophony
Zecorla is still to fancy
Drop the L seen second-last
I sound it out and hear a-
A beautiful name, if I say so myself. But that is not important. I hear a blast, as I see the smoke rising up. The smell hits my nostrils. Deciding on whether or not to go to the blast, I decide not to. I'm fine by this tree and pile of rocks. And the smooth grass on top of the rocks would make a nice-
Oh shit.
I heard Father say the word, and it seemed to fit. Pricking my ears, I hear footsteps. Lions. The first one walks up, growling. He speaks with a low growl, stretching his words. "What are you doing," he says, more of a statement then a question.
I back up, feeling small in his mighty presence. "I accidentally..."
"There are no accidents, and I haven't eaten in days-" His threatening voice does a crescendo as he seems to ready himself for pouncing. But the sentence feels unfinished as his pupils shrink to the size of pins. Blood trickles down his neck as a small piece of metal shines through for a second, only to withdraw. The majestic creature sinks to the ground, revealing the figure of a zebra larger than me. He looks at me for a second, widening his eyes in fear as he recognized me. I have to remember everybrae else thinks I set the orphanage and schools on fire using a special potion. "I didn't do it," I tell him. "The queen framed me so everyone else would shun creativity more than they already do."
He thinks about it for a second, then nods his head. "Makes sense, Princess. I have seen lands that burst with creativity, but not this one. Never this one, princess."
I remember to rhyme.
"I have been cast out in shame," I tell him. "Now Zecora is my name"
I will tell of the despair
Faced by my old friend the mare
The fellow master skilled in rhyme
May be reaching her end time
She won't go down without a fight
But someone may turn off the light
~~~
I woke up, realizing Zecora had already left. Smart mare, that one. She knew I would follow her wherever she went. I considered seeing if I could catch up, but decided not to. I don't know how long it had been. She would have left before Dawn, I told myself. I lazily stretched, gently fluttering my wings. My wings, I thought grimly. For it was because of my exile that the Flutter ponies died. Me and Zecora were two of a kind.
And though my heart was filled to the brim with guile
I accepted my princess-hood gone with exile
And on that day I flew away
I heard a kindred spirit bray
~~~
So... yeah. Next chapter will expand on that last rhyme there and more. I thought if I'm better at poetry than prose, then I'll write both!
