The Princess of Pasta and All Dishes Containing Pasta
Friday was always a strange day to Princess Celestia. As the ruler of an entire, massive, vaguely-defined kingdom, the notion of weekends off was a mere joke (in fact, tomorrow, Celestia had a meeting with some delegates from a neighboring nation who claimed that she was chaotically and aggressively moving the boundaries of Equestria to randomly encompass and exclude The Crystal Empire, Griffonstone, and other nearby countries). Where most other ponies felt a sense of relief at the weekend, Celestia simply looked at it as another day at the office.
There was an upside, of course. Friday night was the only night of the week that Celestia’s schedule aligned with Luna’s, and that the eldest sister could pry the younger from her chambers for dinner together. Luna insisted that she was always busy with some very important task or the other, most often involving something called a Moba (Celestia still had no clue what that was. The one time she asked, Luna had replied with utter gibberish).
But, for every upside, there is an equal and opposite downside. On paper, spending a Friday night enjoying a meal with her sister was among Celestia’s top five things to do with her spare time. After the thousand years of separation, Celestia cherished every single second she had with her beloved sister. Yes, on paper, it was a perfect way to reforge their relationship, which had been… fractured, to say the least. On paper, it was perfect. In practice, there were several large flaws.
It was, of course, Friday and Celestia, of course, hadn’t properly spoken to her sister since the previous Friday. The day was winding to an end, and Celestia really should have began lowering the sun. The rumbling in her stomach prevented her from doing so and, after a serious pro/con self-debate, she decided that Equestria could handle two more hours of sunlight while she tried to enjoy a meal with her sister. Sure, it would probably have a ripple effect and offset this year’s Winter Wrap-up by several days, but who could blame her? Even gods had to eat (gods like Celestia, who simply adored mortal food, that is).
She was sitting in her throne room, alone, save for her secretary, who sat in a little wooden chair to Celestia’s left. While the secretary hovered around scrolls and schedules to read, Celestia just stared at her. What was that mare’s name? It was just then that Celestia realized that she had employed that secretary twenty-three years ago, and had never bothered to ask her name once. Celestia stared at the mare’s moving lips, as if that would somehow give her the secret of her name.
“So, Princess, does that schedule work for you?” asked the secretary.
“Gods be damned,” Celestia whispered to herself, for she was most certainly not listening. Out loud, she said “Oh, but of course. I… I look forward to it.” The secretary looked a bit confused, but jotted down the schedule onto a final piece of parchment nonetheless.
“With all due respect, your highness, I can’t see why you’d be looking forward to such an awful event,” noted the secretary. “Thirty ponies died from that collapsed hay-pile, so I’d imagine you’d be a bit more somber than enthusiastic to be giving the eulogy.” The secretary peered at the schedule, then scribbled a few notes. “Honestly, I can’t believe you agreed to spend your remaining thirteen hours reorganizing Princess Sparkle’s flashcards. Isn’t that something that her servants can do? I mean, what’s the point in having five ponies and a dragon at her beck and call if she’s just going to ask you to do it anyway?”
“Please tell the chefs to serve plenty of wine with tomorrow’s dinner,” requested Celestia. Thirteen hours with her extremely enthusiastic co-ruler would certainly drive her to drink.
“Speaking of dinner, the dining hall is ready for you, your highness,” said the secretary, finally happy with her work. “Princess Luna will be there shortly.”
Celestia nodded her thanks, uneasily rose from her throne, and slowly trotted out of the room. Look to the positives, she reminded herself. Spending time with Luna was a good thing. Maybe she wouldn’t do it this time. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to. Maybe she’s learned.
Celestia kept convincing herself that things would be different all the way from her throne room, down the tall, wide halls, and into the special dining hall where the two princess’ occasionally ate their meals. The room was mostly empty, save for the massive table draped in a luxurious silk table cloth and several dozen chairs, most of which entirely unused since the Regal Sisters were the only ones to use this dining hall. To brighten the room (and to give Twilight something to do a few years ago), there were about a dozen floating, perpetually-burning candles suspended around the table. To Celestia’s surprise, her sister was already waiting for her.
The Princess of the Moon looked bored, more than anything else. She sat in her chair at the far end of the table, just barely keeping her face from the tablecloth. Even her mane seemed to be slower than usual, barely waving and shimmering at all. Celestia smiled nervously and lowered herself into the seat opposite of Luna, putting several feet of wooden table between her and her sister.
“Hello, Luna. How are you?” asked Celestia with a smile.
“We are doing well enough, dear sister,” said Luna. “The League has been more strenuous on Our hooves than usual, and We are grateful to enjoy a meal with Our beloved sister.” Celestia smiled brightly at her sister, who, for as long as she could remember, was apparently allergic. As soon as Celestia showed off those pearly whites of her’s, Luna grimaced in slight discomfort.
“Do you have a schedule planned for tomorrow?” asked Celestia.
“Aye. We have the early hours of the day to Ourselves, and We shall play more League,” said Luna. “Then, We will honour Our inadvertent agreement and join you in aiding Princess Sparkle organize her flashcards.” Celestia couldn’t help but snicker.
“She needs two gods to help her organize flashcards?” asked Celestia. “Even though she’s a half-god herself?”
“It would appear that Princess Sparkle has a large quantity of cards,” said Luna matter-of-factly. “Ms. Pinkamena Pie described it as a ‘metric butt-ton’, though We are skeptical of how accurate of a measurement that is.”
“You are aware that you just said the word ‘butt’, aren’t you?”
“Ms. Pinkamena was very insistent that We use that exact phrase, should it ever come up,” said Luna. “But, enough of Us. What of your schedule, sister?”
“Before we visit Twilight, I am meant to give a eulogy,” lamented Celestia. “Did you know that falling hay can kill a mare? Because I didn’t. I had absolutely no idea until fifteen mares, nine stallions, and six foals were crushed under the weight of hay!”
“Yes, our people are quite fragile,” agreed Luna. “And relatively stupid. Have you considered foal-proofing the land, so to speak? Perhaps regulate hay storage more effectively?”
“Alright, Luna, then I challenge you to draft a Hay Legislation that wholly protects all of Equestria,” said Celestia with a teasing smile.
“We retract Our previous suggestion,” said Luna, after considering it for a moment. “That sounds dreadfully boring. Indeed, We can hardly say ‘Hay Legislation’ without desire to slumber.”
Celestia chuckled, and her sister, who was always learning about the nuances of social interaction and humor, soon joined in. Celestia loved that about her sister; Put her in a life or death situation, and Luna remains perfectly calm. Relaxed, even. But, were you to invite her to brunch, it was very possible that she’d vomit on you and leave with no attempt at apology or explanation. Celestia found Luna’s attempts at a joke to be as awkward as she found them adorable.
Before Celestia could could commend her sister for her efforts, two stallions entered the dining hall, dressed in chef’s aprons and wielding covered silver platters that Celestia may or may not have nicked from the Grand Mosque when she visited Saddle Arabia. The two chefs placed the warm platters before either princess, pausing with their hooves against the lids.
“We had an extravagant meal planned for you, your highness,” said the one in front of Celestia. “However, Princess Luna made a request, and the meal had to be changed accordingly. We hope you do not mind, Princess.”
“Of course not. Please, show me what you’ve prepared,” said Celestia. She truly did not care what would be plated before her, so long as it was delicious and filled her empty belly.
“Of course, your grace,” said the server. “On the request of Princess Luna, we have prepared for you…” He removed the lid. “Spaghetti.”
Oh, horse apples.
“Uh… Sp-spaghetti?” said Celestia, as if the big plate of noodles, bathing in red sauce, wasn’t clear enough indication. “I… Yes, of course. You may go now. Thank you very much.”
“It was our pleasure, your highness,” said the server. He bowed, as did his companion, and the two left the room without another word. Celestia sighed, but still tried to remain positive. Naive optimism worked pretty well for her subjects, so she was willing to give it a try. Maybe this wouldn’t be like all the other times.
SCHLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!
Gods be damned, it was exactly like the other times. And, just like the other times, Luna either didn’t know she was doing it or simply didn’t care. It looked to be the latter, for Luna still had that same bored look on her face, even as she levitated a heaping forkful of pasta over to her mouth.
SCHLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!
By the gods, that was annoying. It was obnoxious, it was rude, and it ruined Celestia’s appetite. She couldn’t even look at her plate anymore. The only things that existed in the Sun Princess’ world were her sister and a big plate of pasta.
SCHLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!
She should say something, but how? Luna wouldn’t understand, of that, Celestia was certain. She didn’t want to bother Luna, or scare her back to her chambers to play League, whatever in the seven layers of Tartarus that was! No, Celestia would remain silent. Maybe Luna would pick up on proper manners by seeing Celestia eat. Luna always did learn better by example. Celestia grabbed a fork with her yellow glow and twirled it around her plate a bit, returning with a small, polite bite of pasta. Making sure to not break eye contact with her sister, she slowly levitated her fork to her mouth and-
SCHLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!
Promptly dropped the fork back onto the plate.
“You scheem trouble,” said Luna through a solid mouthful of food. She swallowed it as loudly and obnoxiously as equinely possible. “Is there something wrong, dear sister?”
Could Celestia do it? Tell her sister that eating meals together drove the elder sister mad? What would it do to Luna’s self-esteem to know that she makes her sister contemplate self-imposed banishment every time the two shared a meal?
“No,” said Celestia, after deciding that, no, she most certainly could not tell Luna. “Apologies. I’m just a-”
SCHLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!
“A bit-”
SCHLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!
“Distra-”
SCHLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!
“Luna! For the love of all things holy, stop!” burst Celestia, unable to contain it any longer. She was glaring at Luna by this point, unable to keep a calm facade any longer. Celestia was more than annoyed, she was downright angry. She kept a tense, burning silence, just dying to hear Luna defend herself.
SCHLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!
“What would you have Us cease doing?” asked Luna. “Are We disturbing you in some way?”
“Yes! You, and that damned pasta!” exclaimed Celestia. “Will you stop slurping your spaghetti?! Please, it’s driving me insane!”
Luna gazed at Celestia, very much so taken aback by the sudden outburst. She looked down at her plate, then to Celestia, then back to her plate.
SCHLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!
“No, We will not stop slurping Our pasta,” said Luna.
“If you slurp another noodle, I’m banishing you back to the moon.”
SCHLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!
“Do not play games with me, Luna!” shouted Celestia, banging her hoof on the table. “That is so unbearably annoying! Stop at once!”
“No. We are not only within Our rights, but We are doing our duty as Princess,” said Luna, turning up her nose in indignation. “And We are, among other things, offended that you would try and interfere with Our good work.”
“It’s your duty as Princess of the Night to slurp pasta loudly and obnoxiously?” asked Celestia.
“Do not be ridiculous,” scoffed Luna. “It’s Our duty as the Princess of Pasta.” Celestia went from angry to confused to back to angry in a new record time for her. Not even Discord had befuddled/pissed her off as quickly and intensely as Luna did.
“Princess of Pasta?! There is no such thing as a Princess of Pasta!” said Celestia angrily.
“Ah, but there is,” insisted Luna. “Long ago, Mother anointed Us the Princess of the Night, the Princess of Dreams, the Princess of Small Children’s Problems, and the Princess of Pasta. It is Our job to slurp any and all pasta We encounter, lest We project a bad example for the citizens of Equestria.”
“That is not true, Luna, and you know it.”
Luna lit up her horn, creating a small orb of navy blue light. After a moment, the orb burst, and an old sealed scroll of parchment took its place. She hovered the scroll to Celestia, who accepted it in her own levitation and quickly opened it.
“The coronation certificate,” said Celestia. She summoned her reading glasses via magic and lowered them onto her face. “Sirs and Madams, Lords and Ladies, I present unto you… your undoubted Princess Luna, Princess of the Night and all things Dark, Princess of the Dreams of our Slumber, Princess of Foals and Their Internal Discrepancies… And Princess of Pasta and All Dishes containing Pasta?!” Celestia whipped off her glasses in disbelief. “How is that possible? This was a thousand years ago, maybe longer, we didn’t even have pasta back then!”
SCHLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!
“Mother and those priests, they were all ahead of their time,” said Luna. “It is written into law by Mother herself, so you are obligated to honour my title.”
“Stop spelling honor with a ‘u’! That’s not how we spell it here!” shouted Celestia nonsensically. “We live in Equestria. If you want to use extra ‘u’s, then go to Trottingham!”
“How do you know how We are spelling it if We are speaking aloud?” asked Luna.
“I can hear the extra letter, Luna. It has a very distinct accent.”
“In any case, We are entitled to use the proper spelling of any word We so choose,” said Luna, rolling her eyes. “Equestria has butchered the language. And do not even get Us started on Our Imperial system. We really need to convert to Metric.”
“And another thing! Enough with the Royal We!” said Celestia. “That was never a real thing! Nopony ever spoke like that except for you! Why must you be so imaginary?”
“This is coming from the mare who swears by a system that measures things in the length of a dead mare’s horseshoe, correct?”
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“Luna, I swear to the Gods,” warned Celestia. “If you slurp another noodle for as long as I live, I will turn you into batter and bake you into a cake.”
SCHLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!
In one quick move, Celestia scooped up her plate, still mostly full of spaghetti, and threw it as hard as she could at Luna. The platter smashed against her face, squishing slimy, saucy noodles against her muzzle and mane. Luna wiped the mess from her face, piling it into one hoof, then chucked it right back at Celestia. The Sun Princess managed to avoid most of it, though a fair bit of sauce did get into her mane (which, having a mind of its own, floated wherever it pleased). The two glared at each other with such an intensity, it is rumored that sparks were visible to those with keen enough eyes.
“Chefs! MORE SPAGHETTI, IMMEDIATELY!” demanded Luna. Within a second, four unicorn chefs entered, each carrying three platters using their horn glow. By the time that they realized what was going on, it was already too late.
The war was on.
Twilight Sparkle trotted through the halls of Canterlot Castle nervously. It wasn’t like the princesses to cancel, especially without giving her a reason. What scared her most was that none of the staff seemed to know where they were or what they were doing. Twilight had checked every room on the East Wing of the castle, and was now working her way through the West. As she turned onto the second row of doors in a new hall, she encountered four chefs. perhaps they knew were the princesses were.
“Excuse me?” said Twilight, talking to the chef that looked most leaderly. “Have you seen Celestia or Luna? She had an appointment in Ponyville, and she never showed up.”
“Oh, they’re in the private dining hall,” said the leader chef. “Good luck getting any conversation out of them. Last time we checked on them, they were still passed out. Maybe you’ll have more luck.”
Apparently, that’s all the information Twilight was allowed to have at this time, for the four chefs sprinted away without another word. Twilight knew were the private dining hall was, of course, so she made it her business to hurry there. It only took her a minute or so with the aid of her wings, and she was soon twisting the door handles and pushing open into the dining hall.
The princesses were an absolute mess, covered in some red something that Twilight momentarily thought was blood. After she came down from her heart attack, she realized that it was actually just tomato sauce, which gave a little bit of context to the spaghetti noodles scattered across the room, stuck to the walls, and covering the princesses themselves. Twilight carefully stepped forward and gingerly nudged Celestia.
“Princess?” asked Twilight. “Are you okay?”
“Has she stopped?” asked Celestia weakly, trying to force herself to her hooves. She failed, and collapsed back onto her belly. “Is she still slurping?”
“Sister…” groaned Luna. She rolled over to her back and peeled off the spaghetti that was stuck to her tummy. “Sister…”
“Yes, Luna?” said Celestia, her voice full of hope.
SCHLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!
“I am the Princess of Pasta,” said Luna, who then promptly fell unconscious. Celestia raised her hoof in anger, then followed her sister’s example. Twilight nodded, slowly piecing together the situation.
“You know, you could’ve just said ‘no’ when I asked for your help,” said Twilight to the unconscious princesses. “Is organizing flashcards really so boring that you’d almost kill each other with pasta go get out of it?” Twilight thought about it for a few moments.
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” she said, walking out to leave the princesses to their rest. She’d have Spike organize the cards later in the week.
After he cooked dinner, of course. Twilight was suddenly craving spaghetti.
Author's Note
Well, that happened. Boy, I really want some spaghetti now! Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this weird little one-shot, because it was a bit of fun to make. Me and my brother, we slurp our pasta all the time, but we hate it when the other does it. I had this idea after I made some spaghetti for my family and barely resisted the urge to superplex him.
Remember, comment telling me whether you loved this or hated it and why, so that I may better myself for the future.
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