Twilight Sparkle Doesn't Want To Be a Main Character · 6:25am Jul 4th, 2014

This introduction has been sitting in Google Drive for months now, long enough for me to realize that I'm not going to do anything with the subject in the foreseeable future, I figured that I might as well put it up here so that others could see it.

There are two truths in the land of Equestria. The first, and certainly the most widely accepted, is that friendship is magic. The second is that anything, including but not limited to the number of truths in Equestria, can change on a whim. The third is that everypony, somewhere within their hearts of hearts, wants to be a Princess.

The third truth is, of course, the most complicated truth. Not everypony could be a princess. If everypony were a Princess, then there would be nopony to rule, which leads to a very dull life for royalty, which leads to a craving for excitement, which leads to an expansionist campaign, world dominations, and far too much paper work for anypony or, rather, anyprincess, to handle. Of course, given the immense power that Equestria would have if every pony were born a princess, world domination would take a week at the most, and would leave three hundred and forty nine days of the year to fill with something more amusing than megalomania.

And there are very few things more amusing than megalomania.

However, facing a lifetime of boredom and paperwork did not deter all ponies from wanting to be crowned Princess of all Creation. Indeed, those ponies who craved the strange sparkly flowy mane began seeking signs, ways of telling whether one within their ranks could possibly grow into a proper pony princess.

The most obvious sign, and therefore the most useless, was having a pony born with both wings and horns. This simply didn’t happen and, after multiple fiascos involving cardboard, paint, and super glue, they decided that they needed a new sign.

Years past. Many scholars came and went. Hundreds of philosophers argued about the merits of personality and pureness of heart. Mathematicians spent lifetimes measuring horn length and wingspan and number of feathers and the amount of times that the swirly line that had no apparent purpose wound up a horn, in search of some clue about the nature of Princesshood.

Then, a smartass assistant in a well-known accounting firm commented on the number of colors in the Princess’ manes and all of that effort went right out the window. The smartass, whose name was, incidentally, Smart Ass, was commended, lauded, fired, threatened by multiple leading mathematicians (which is about as terrifying as it sounds), and was forced to move to Stalliongrad.

But not in that particular order.

As Smart Ass noted before his inevitable relocation, the most tell-tale sign of future Princessification was the number of colors within a pony’s mane. One color was too few, too commonplace in a land full of single-colored manes. The only Princesses with one color in their manes were those already born with both wings and horns. Or, rather, wings and horns that weren’t made of cardboard, paint, and superglue.

Two colors and you had a chance. Princess Luna had two colors in her mane, which certainly gave a degree of hope to many ponies, but Luna was a largely special case as she was already a Princess and could very well do whatever she wanted.

The magic number was three. Princess Celestia had three. Princess Cadance also had three, but nopony outside of the Crystal Empire pays attention to her. Nor was it common for a pony to be born with three colors in their mane, disregarding the family in Cloudsdale that boasted (and boasted rather loudly at that) seven colors.

Needless to say, Twilight Sparkle’s birth and, more importantly, her tri-colored mane, was quite the cause for celebration. A Princess in the family was a very joyous occasion. She would be royalty, nigh-immortal, beautiful, rich, and powerful. She would be everything befitting a Princess and everything that a common pony could never hope to be. Twilight would be a heroine, the main character of her own, personal, fairy tale.

And who wouldn’t want that?

Cue shenanigans as Twilight was forced to deal with anime openings and general main character cliches. The opening scene, if I recall correctly, was Twilight running to school with a piece of toast in her mouth, having spent the previous night reading. She comes to a three-way intersection and forces herself to crash into a wall, narrowly avoiding Flash Sentry, who was also running late for class.

I love the idea, but I don't think that I'd be able to execute it properly. If I could, then this would be a story rather than a blog post.

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