Zecora tells a tale of Betrayal

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"