Untitled Journal in Blueblood's Study

by Crowne Prince

I. A Brief History of the Marvelous Prince Blueblood

I was born in Canterlot.

But wait, let me back up a bit. I simply must congratulate you, for you are either incredibly crafty or I have been dead some years now. Oh, I can only imagine what the latter must feel like. Great Prince Blueblood, the pony who cannot be shamed, silent? Why, Canterlot must have breathed a sigh of relief when I passed.

And if I am still alive, then shame on you! Invading another pony’s privacy for the sake of your wretched imagination. What might you be expecting to find, then? A long list of the Prince’s fiery, flippant love conquests? Fodder for your unsightly gossip column? You’ll find neither. What I’ve written ‘twixt these pages is naught but haughty word drivel; an account of all my great accomplishments, none of which feature the passionate love or delectable rumor you seek.

By all means, no harm will come to you if you return this whence it came. Likely I’ll not even notice it went missing these few seconds you’ve been reading. But please do put it back. I’d hate to lose this mirror of words I gaze at when I become bored of my glorious figure looking back at me in the glass.

Speaking of, I shall describe myself with these pithy things you call words. Mere text has no grounding on such an exquisite equine as myself, but it would be cruel to leave no image of my beauty behind for posterity. My coat shines with the divine light of Celestia’s great sun, clean and smooth enough to blind the most pure soul. It is only in my careful attention to grooming that I’ve avoided this particular catastrophe. Any noble will whisper their shock at this Prince’s resplendent, spotless white fur (white was always such a color as to be cursed with, they’d say), and yet I put myself through great efforts to make it presentable without letting it shine. It wouldn’t be proper to outshine the Goddess of the Sun, after all. Right. I think that did it. I imagine the troublemakers will have closed this book and replaced it by now, expecting I continue talking about myself through this entire paragraph and into eternity, until my face is as blue as my name. As for those of you still here, consider the previous a direct look into that notorious noble known as Prince Blueblood, what he must have been like, thought like. Studying from a primary source, as they say. None of that secondary source nonsense.

The truth is I'm sick of talking about myself. I decided I'll do it this one last time.

I was born in Canterlot, but I was not born a Prince. In fact, I’m actually a Duke, but we’ll get to that later. (Should I write I ‘was’ a Duke? This is all a bit strange I’m afraid.)

Perhaps I shouldn’t have revealed that just yet. The specter of my mentor looms over me in my private study, daring me to slip up so she can rap me across the nose like the good old days. ‘Never reveal your cards,’ she’d say. Or, ‘Why expect the reader to keep reading when you’ve given them nothing to read about?’

Very well then. I’ll hold a secret or two back to keep you interested. Because you deserve to know everything.

Equestria is not what you thought it was, and neither am I.

Comments

[Crowne Prince]

I laugh because the first page probably worked.

*cracks knuckles and deletes bot comments* Try me.

[Gypsy]

It was believable you bastard lol