The Night Princess and the Day Job
Snow was in the air in Canterlot, a fact that simultaneously delighted and upset Her Royal Highness, Diarch of the Night, Princess Luna Implaccibilis, the Unrelenting Moon. The novelty was valued, certainly – after a millennium on the lunar surface, devoid as it was of an atmosphere, any weather at all was novel – but traditions had changed over the last thousand years, and to tell the truth of it, Luna was having trouble finding her place in the strange carnival that Canterlot had become shortly after Nightmare Night. Festive decorations that seemed to bear little if any relation to the underlying messages or themes of the holiday had sprung up, seemingly overnight, and while the giving of gifts was at least familiar, the level of commercialism that surrounded the holiday was not.
This wasn't to say that the merchants and vendors that were taking advantage of the traditions of gift-giving were in any way besmirching the meaning behind the holiday. They were trying to provide for their families and loved ones, and making available gift items that other ponies, invested in the notion of coming up with that special gift for loved ones and relations, wished to purchase. Probably, there were some ponies that had missed the message of the holiday... but then, it was ever thus. It wasn't like celebrating was mandatory, and you couldn't please all of the ponies, all of the time.
It was really more a matter of cultural and technological shifts over the intervening thousand years that had thrown Luna for a loop. While her sister and her friends in Ponyville had done their best to update the Princess of the Moon on all of the changes that had transpired, the fact that her sister had live through them and the bearers of the Elements of Harmony had been born into them meant that it was difficult for them to grasp the tremendous scope of the changes that had occurred in the interim.
Air conditioning. Manufactured goods. Modern agriculture. The abolition of serfdom. Toilet paper. Oh, for the love of the Ancestors, toilet paper. It's hard to appreciate the industrialized world without considering the advantages afforded by modern paper-mills.
Luna was rapidly reaching the unpalatable conclusion that she had simply been away too long. Celestia had made the arrangements such that – when she was ready – she could begin holding a nightly Court, to compliment the Day Court and to alleviate some of the bureaucratic strain. She wanted to be useful. But the simple fact of the matter was that she couldn't relate to the modern problems facing the ponies of Equestria, and if she could not relate, how could she be expected to make fair judgements based on contemporary problems?
It didn't help that the position of 'diarch' was a new one. Few ponies that she could expect to interact with on a more or less personal basis knew precisely how to treat her – with respect, certainly, but how much? Celestia had named her an equal, which forestalled hobnobbing with the common pony, but the nobility avoided her as well, fearing either the memory of Nightmare Moon, or the wrath of a Princess whose social mores had only begun to be updated after a thousand year stagnation. The number of ponies that she could have a regular conversation with, without the fear of a bad social misstep poisoning all future interactions were easily countable, without having to worry about such triflings as double digits.
She barely even saw those few servants into whose care she had been placed, with the exception of her personal secretary, Paper Weight. The dark blue unicorn mare attended to Luna through most of her waking hours, as much a social worker as a secretary, happy to quietly update Luna on changing social idiom on the rare occasions that the Princess of the Night could not avoid a public engagement. As a personal secretary, she was also one of the few staff assigned to Luna with whom it was considered anything other than gauche to speak with like a normal pony would, rather than as ruler to subject, and it was for that reason that Luna's moping had led to the Alicorn of the Night unloading her woes to her.
Paper Weight, chosen as much for her graduate degree in social work as the fact that Luna's cursive was execrable, considered the situation carefully. “It's hard to say, really.” Luna afforded her secretary a 'thank you, that's very helpful' look, and Paper Weight held up a hoof, indicating that she was not yet finished her thought. “In the context of special functions, your relationship with other ponies is clear; usually, they're trying to suck up or gain favour. If anything, that's probably going to hurt your attempts to understand modern pony idiom, since they're likely going to try to adopt your mannerisms in an attempt at flattery.”(1)
Luna nodded. “Aye. And worse still, many is the subject that fears to correct me. It took more than four months for my friend, Twilight Sparkle, to inform me that the Royal Canterlot Voice had fallen out of fashion.” Paper Weight winced at that. True, the Princess hadn't been using the Voice within the palace – it was more of a 'be heard by the masses' sort of thing – but it had still been a lapse that she should have caught before Luna had headed off to Ponyville for Nightmare Night.
“Well,” she began, “perhaps what you need is some kind of arranged situation where the social mores are clearer.” Luna perked up at that, her head tilting curiously, and Paper continued. “Like... when you go into a store to purchase something, there's a fairly set social script. The clerk asks if you found what you were looking for, rings up your purchases, maybe makes some pleasantry about the weather or something similar. All fairly low-impact stuff, staid to the point of being formulaic, and the relationship between customer and clerk is well-defined. It might not be the most riveting interaction, and it wouldn't fix your entire problem, but having a normal sort of exchange like that might get you out of your head enough to be able to go out and meet the people, and learn more about them, like you wanted to.” Paper Weight smiled hopefully.
“Yes!” Luna was nodding enthusiastically.
“There's the spiri-” Paper Weight was cut off.
“It's so simple!” Luna cheered. “I shall go out and get a retail job! I am sure there must be plenty of ponies hiring, with Hearth's Warming Eve coming up!” The Princess of the Night was all but bouncing. “Oh, this is wonderful! The social interactions I shall have! I must go and write out an application at once!” With the famed speed bestowed upon the princesses of Equestria by the Ancestors, which apocryphally made them great and terrible in the battles of legend, Luna ran from the room, in search of stationary.
Paper Weight blinked. “What.”
* * *
It was a few days later. The post had come, and Luna was once again distraught.
Paper Weight hadn't had a chance to go through her sovereign's mail – usually one of her duties as secretary, but she'd overslept that morning – and apparently Luna had not been prepared for whatever had come to her within it. Sipping some coffee from a cardboard cup, she took up her usual seat at a desk in Luna's office. “Your highness, whatever is the matter?”
Luna was alternating looking sad and scowling at the page before her. “It is terrible, Paper Weight! I have been rejected from Barns and Nobles!”
Paper Weight blinked. “The bookstore?” Oh Ancestors, it was too early in the evening for this. Had Luna been banned from the store due to a magical mishap? Was the manager yet another in an apparently unending chain of Nightmare Moon cultists, that Luna had to keep telling off? The secretary sat up in her seat a little bit, looking over and up to Luna.
The Princess of the Night scowled at the letter again. “This letter says that my application to work for the store over the holidays has been rejected!” Luna shook her head mystified. “And it makes no sense! 'Dear applicant, we regret to say that we are not accepting group applications for employment at this time, as we have only one position. If we do seek to hire several employees at once, they must still apply through individual applications.'” Luna gave Paper Weight a slightly forlorn look. “I do not understand.”
Paper Weight dug through the 'In' tray on her desk. She seemed to recall seeing a copy of the job-application that Luna had penned, added to the considerable stack that the secretarial pony kept meaning to pare down. Finding the document, her eyes scanned it. “'Dear sir or madame, We wish to apply for the position that We have seen posted in the news-paper. We believe Ourselves to be a diligent worker... Princess Luna, this is written in the royal 'we'.”
Luna nodded. “The book I was reading said that job applications should be in formal language, and upon further inspection, I discovered that the royal We had replaced the Royal Canterlot Voice in the formal language of court.”
Paper Weight tried to take another sip of her coffee, only to discover that some greedy ass had drank it all. She rubbed her brow. “Yes, I think it hit its peak about three centuries ago, during Princess Celestia's notorious 'clown years'. Luna, the manager of the store isn't familiar with the antiquated formal language of court. He thinks that the letter you penned was from a group of ponies.”
Luna blinked a little. “But I...” she paused. “Actually, I suppose that makes a certain amount of sense. Dammit.” The midnight blue alicorn was indefatigable in her cheer however. “Then I shall try again! The applications shall be doubled!”
Paper Weight sighed, and started to look through the mountain of papers in her 'In' tray. It was shaping up to be a long week.
* * *
Two evenings and an unfortunate number of coffee-runs later, Luna was once again distressed by a rejection through the mail.
“Underqualified?” Luna sputtered a little bit, as if not believing the relatively blameless piece of parchment that had the poor luck to present ill-tidings to what amounted to a divine being. “How can I be underqualified to sell quills and sofas?” She glared at the rejection letter. “I am the Princess of the Night, Luna Implaccibilis. The stars move at my will, the tides turn at my pleasure, and even before my incarceration upon the moon I had seen civilizations rise, flourish, and die.”
Well, reflected Paper Weight, it's good to see her confidence up. Out loud however, she simply said, “I believe they mentioned requiring a high school diploma or equivalent. You were, ah... kind of banished to the moon before high school became a thing.”
Luna's eyes narrowed. “Fetch for me a G.E.D. application form.”
* * *
“OVERqualified!?”
Paper Weight groaned, her desk a small fortress of stacks of paper; she had been trying to clear her desk by addressing her 'In' tray while Luna was busying herself with job applications, but like a hydra, each completed piece of paperwork lopped off the head of the stack seemed to have spawned a horde of wrathful progeny. Forming a buttress to her bureaucratic fortifications was an ever-growing pyramid of empty coffee cups.
Luna, failing to acknowledge the fact that her secretary had not replied, continued. “How exactly can I be overqualified for a position? Surely, the more qualifications I possess, the better for the employer to hire me?” She sniffed. “I admit, it stings doubly hard, as not two days ago I was underqualified for a position.”
Paper Weight shrugged. “As you said yourself, the stars move at your will, the tides roll in and out to suit your fancies, and what have you. The manager is worried that if she hires you, you'll surpass her in worthiness and take her job.”
Luna looked incredulous. “I'm a Princess of Equestria! If I wanted to run a print shop, I'd open a bucking print shop, and issue royal decrees that all who wished copies made must use it. I just want a freaking job for the holidays!”
“I really wouldn't lead with that in your next application. It might come off a bit too desperate.”
* * *
“What is this about a mandatory retirement age now?”
Paper Weight was starting to worry that she was being a bad influence on the Night Princess, who had grown curious about the stack of cardboard cups and was swiftly catching up in quantity of coffee consumed over the course of an evening. Slightly neurotic and obsessive as Luna was on a normal day, adding 'wired' to the list did not seem to be helping. “It was instituted to allow a new generation of ponies opportunity for employment, but it's only really applied to government-subsidized businesses.”
“I see. It seems that I cannot be a greeter at StallMart. I exceed their maximum hiring age by... approximately twenty-one hundred years.” A pause. “Give or take a century.”
Paper Weight kneaded her temples. “More applications?”
“More applications!”
* * *
The must-have toy of the year for all of the colts and fillies made no sense to Paper Weight, but then, the secretary had left fillihood behind more years ago than she cared to recall. It was an action figure that seemed to break extremely easily, but unaccountably had no moving joints or pieces. In an effort to keep up with demand (which even in Canterlot was excessive), the manufacturers had thrown up a new factory, and were hiring workers.
She had noted to Luna that working in a factory seemed to be a step away from her original stated goal of increased social interaction, but the princess had simply shrugged. After all, surely there would be other workers with whom to interact. The fun around the break room would be doubled! Paper Weight wasn't quite so sure that this position would be all that Luna might have hoped, but the princess seemed to have moved from the mindset of 'learn about the lives of the ponies she sought to rule' to 'get a job, get ANY job'. To her credit, Luna had finally found a position that would at least grant her an interview.
The snow that had been scheduled for the afternoon was beginning late, and the secretary hustled to keep up with the longer-legged princess that she was accompanying. They had encountered a little bit of difficulty in finding the place, but Luna had insisted upon leaving early, so as to find time to stop for coffee along the way. Finally coming up on the factory amidst the swirling flakes, a pleasant-looking yellow earthpony stallion greeted them at the door.
“Hello there, y-..” He paused. “Ah. Um. Greetings? Your highness?” It occurred to Paper Weight that she might have warned the factory owner about the nature of the applicant.
Luna dismissed the formality with a wave. “Please, I bid thee, stand not upon formality. Consider me as thou wouldst any other applicant. I wish neither special favour nor consideration, merely the opportunity to attempt to acquire the position thou art offering, by dint of skill and merit.” She smiled hopefully.
“Ah... yes!” This was probably the right answer, and the stallion stepped inside to allow the visitors ingress into the heated building. “I'm Vernier Calliper, and I'm the foreman for this shop. Please, come inside.” Luna trotted in merrily, with Paper Weight following at a comfortable pace. “We have a lot of work ahead of us, if we're going to get all of these toys assembled in time for the holidays, and we need every competent pony we can get!”
Luna smiled brightly. “What manner of labour shall this work entail? I am eager to get started!” This by way of understatement – she as so close to actually getting a job that she could taste it.
Calliper, ignorant of the subtext of the statement, gave a faint smile. “Well, we're assembling a complete line of Elements of Harmony Action Figures!” It had been a brilliant idea on behalf of the mayor of Ponyville, and the bearers had signed off on it, if only to help pay for the not-infrequent collateral damage of the various escapades that seemed to plague the settlement. “Our manufacturer shipped them in pieces though, so we need to assemble them carefully, before packaging them. Here, let me show you.”
Crossing to the assembly line, he picked from a sequence of barrels a selection of yellow pieces, with a hint of pink mane here or there. With the care that his name and cutie mark suggested, the pieces were assembled into a miniature figure of Fluttershy, and Luna's face lighted up with delight. “How marvellous! It seems appropriate that these heroes of Equestria should be honoured by such adorable tiny plastic effigies!”
It occurred to Calliper that Princess Luna had in fact met the bearers – but touching upon that subject probably would get into uncomfortable political discussions about who had tried to bring about eternal night upon whom. Avoiding politics in a work environment, he had learned long ago, was key to a happy shop. “Do you think that you could do that, your high-.. Luna?”
The princess smiled. True, it would appear that the assembly of even a single doll required a reasonable amount of care, but the princess was no stranger to detailed work. The stars were not fixed within the firmament, but were all fire, and every one did burn – and was placed, with care, upon the canvas of the night sky every night by Luna, in a display of artistry that so few appreciated. This task, set to her so long ago, had been one that she had never shirked, even during her banishment, and required massive effort and workmanship nightly. Luna was good at multitasking. “I bid thee,” she smiled, “stand back and watch this.”
Most of the factory floor was swathed in the azure hue of Luna's telekinetic aura, as the princess closed her eyes, concentrating. Hundreds – thousands – of toy pieces rose into the air, emptying the barrels from which they were gathered. Swirling in unknowable but hypnotic patterns, the pieces flew through the air, never touching save but when they were meant to, a flurry of motion akin in many ways to the flurry picking up its pace outside of the shop. Ball joints were set into sockets, fixings were fixed, and decals were applied, in one huge and constant motion. Boxes and wrappings were filled, and in under a minute, the shop had gone from 'full of potential toys' to 'full of realized ones'.
Calliper realized his mouth was hanging open. He shut it with a snap. “That was... that was...”
Luna smiled, in anticipation of praise or adulation. “Yes?”
“... The entire month's work.” Calliper blinked – yes, Luna had even packaged the toys, ready to be put onto shelves. “I don't know what to say. I guess I can pay you what I would have for the month, but... I'm afraid I can't give you the job. There.. isn't a job anymore.”
Luna blinked, looking at the emptied bins. “Oh. Ah. Sorry?”
* * *
“I swear, sister, I do not know what it is that I am doing wrong!” Luna and Celestia frequently took tea at dusk on Fridays, a period of relaxation in which the affairs of the ponies in their charge could look after themselves. Sealed away from the prying eyes of the outside world, the two sisters, incomparable in their experiences, could let their manes down and simply be ponies, without fear of setting some form of obnoxious precedent. As such, Celestia was less the reserved, serene pony that her public image would have implied, and had been snickering quite unabashedly throughout the story. Luna had to admit to herself that it was somewhat funny in hindsight, but the frustration was too great for her to wholly ignore.
“Look, Luna...” Celestia smiled, and wiped a tear of laughter from one eye. “Perhaps the whole experience has been a learning one? You sought to learn the tribulations of the ponies in your charge, and I think it is beyond question that you have encountered at least a few.” She paused in consideration. “In the company of a few that most ponies probably never face, I grant you.”
Luna paused in consideration of the potential moral to her story... for about thirty seconds, before shaking her own head. “Nope.”
Celestia raised a sculpted eyebrow. “Nope?”
Luna nodded. “Nope. Still want an us-damned job, still mad as Tartarus that I cannot seem to get one for love nor money.” It had been a fairly stressful week for her, and Luna curled up on one of the cushions. “I can certainly take another look at our employment policies, and in light of what I have encountered, I probably should. But I wanted to get out there and meet the normal ponies of Equestria, and I can hardly say that I have done that much at all.” She plucked a buttery scone from the tray set out, and munched upon it sulkily. “I am a royal princess, a demigoddess, and have thousands of years of life experience. How is it that none of my skills appear to be marketable?”
Celestia sipped her peppermint tea thoughtfully. “Perhaps the problem is simply that you are not pursuing your passions, Luna. By your own account, you've simply fired off job applications to every place that you could find that might be hiring for the winter holidays. If you're trying to wedge yourself in for a bad fit, it could be that you're self-sabotaging.” Another slow sip of the peppermint tea, and Celestia shrugged. “Just a thought, anyway.” A trifling of telekinetic magic raised the teapot. “Are you sure that I can't tempt you?”
Luna smiled, but gently declined. “I fear a new beverage has replaced tea among my affections, my sister. Indeed, my secretary should be along presently with some 'coffee'.” The air quotes, absent fingers to indicate them sufficed to be applied via tone, handling the novel term gently, as one would a prized possession of great fragility.
Celestia chuckled a little bit. “I suppose coffee would be more in-keeping with your preferences from a beverage.” A knock at the sitting room door heralded the arrival of company. “And there, I suspect, is your secretary now.” The teapot was set down, and Celestia's telekinetic glow formed instead around the door, opening it. “Do come in, Miss Weight.”
Paper Weight was afforded a privilege that few ponies enjoyed – the presence of both of the Royal Alicorn Sisters, at leisure rather than business. She trotted in, carrying a cardboard tray. “I brought your usual, Princess Luna. Vente soy half-caf latte, with shaved chocolate on top, and extra whip.”
Luna's eyes lit up. “That's it!”
* * *
There is a place in Canterlot, near the University, where it is said that Princess Luna held down employment for a few months; it still enjoys her royal patronage years later, and the favour of the Night Princess has granted it great success, both locally and as a franchise. Rumours abound that Luna still works there, from time to time, the mercurial sovereign taking the shape of a common pony. What drew her to it so?
Some say that the self-titled 'Princess of Coffee' simply appreciated the fact that the caffeinated beverage made ponies more alert and awake during the night-time hours over which she holds dominance; she revelled in the very existence of coffee, and viewed this shop as a fine provider as same. Others, perhaps wiser, or who consider themselves 'in the know', suggest that during a particularly frustrating time of her life, her secretary, a graduate of the University, made many a coffee-run for herself and the princess to that hallowed hall.
It occurs to only a few that Luna's three-month run of employment, getting to know the common ponies and giving back to a community that grew to embrace her, might have been based almost entirely upon the name, printed on the side of their cups.
Starsbucked.
1: Paper Weight was quite correct, in fact; Luna's somewhat archaic manner of speech had briefly gone into vogue after the first charity function that she had attended. No one did this to Celestia anymore, ostensibly out of respect to the Princess' wishes, but mostly because about three centuries prior, Celestia had begun wearing increasingly silly hats, spraying members of the nobility with seltzer, and making crass jokes in public to break them as the habit. The raw number of 'nobility = clowns' jokes that had arisen from this had kept Equestria's stand-up comics and editorial cartoon artists in easy work for thirty years.
Author's Note
A little bit of fluff in time for the holiday rush. This fic is technically a prequel to Night Watch, but apart from being a lengthier explanation of some running jokes, it is entirely unnecessary to read either to enjoy either. I have received no money for the corporate plug, but the joke wrote itself.
