Welcome to the Service

Spit Shine had learned by example. She worked with diligence, and day by day she waited and hoped. The castle maids could be promoted back to the ranks of the Day Guard. It happened. Sometimes. Hopefully. She was bound by her oath and absolutely determined to prove she belonged in armor again. However long it had been wasn’t important—hard work every day kept her demons away.

That was why she was busy in a gallery the size of a bedroom, dusting everything and polishing some of Princess Luna’s less fragile curios. There wasn’t much left to do before she’d have to report to the laundry and spend the rest of the day up to her muzzle in suds and dirtied sheets. She’d procrastinated as long as she could, but word was she’d be working in another part of the castle after the weekend. Even so, the statue in the corner was the last pony she had the courage to speak with, and it was with a sigh that she picked up a fresh polishing rag and set herself to the task of touching it up again.

“H-hey, Gleaming,” Shine said. The statue didn’t respond; the maid wasn’t sure why she had expected anything. It was hard to carry a solo conversation, and she got most of the statue’s mane cleaned and polished by the time she found more words.

“I don't know i-if you can see or hear me. Nopony’s tried turning me into m-marble yet.” Silence fell again as her voice halted. Shine carefully prettied up a delicate, once-animate ear. It was probably sturdier than it looked, but working for Princess Celestia had taught her to never trust probably, no matter the context. The statue’s eyes were closed, and the maid added, “I guess you c-can’t see me either way. What did you do this t-time?”

Shine hesitated, realizing her phrasing suggested an answer to her own question. “It wasn’t your f-fault, was it.”

Spit Shine stepped back, searching her old friend’s white marble face. Gleaming Shield was smiling, or had been smiling. Her ears were upright, searching forwards. She had been calm, relaxed, content. It was a familiar expression. Gleaming had projected contentment, at the very worst, for the weeks and moons since their reunion, since Shine herself had been changed.

“How do you do it?” the maid mumbled as she worked. “I hope you c-can’t feel all this. You’re a good friend, but I’m not the ‘b-benefits’ sort of mare.”

It was another minute of work before Shine realized what she’d said. It wasn’t new anymore, though, and she did little more than sigh. “I’m even calling myself a m-mare now. Stars help me.”

“Hm.”

Spit Shine froze, but couldn’t locate the new voice. She would have mistaken it as coming from the statue, but Gleaming’s speech was high, sweet, and little above a whisper. This was lower, rich, and dark. Few ponies had such a voice, and fewer had always been mares. The maid trembled.

“P-Princess Luna!”

The Mistress of Madness herself dropped from the ceiling, rotating in her controlled fall to land gracefully on her shoes as if she was weightless. Spit Shine faced her and dropped into her deepest curtsy. She didn’t dare look up. Princess Luna bore the celestial opposite of her sister; her temperament too was reversed. Where Princess Celestia had grown ever more capricious in her smiling madness, Luna was reclusive, thoughtful, and absolutely insane. She could not be read or anticipated.

“You may rise, minion.”

It wasn’t optional. Spit Shine managed to obey, shaking, sure she had whimpered. Hopefully not; it was reported that Princess Luna didn’t like whimpers.

There was silence for a stretch of minutes, but now and then, Shine would lift her gaze just enough and see the tips of Luna’s boots still standing before her. Minutes later, she mustered the courage to see that the rest was gone. She let out the portion of breath her tense body had withheld. Hopefully somepony else would be along for the shoes very soon. Spit Shine turned back to her task.

Her muzzle came into contact with another. She froze. Her eyes snapped shut too late not to notice blue hair and tealish-cyan eyes. She couldn’t stop a whimper this time.

“Amusing,” Luna said. Spit Shine felt herself floated a few inches back; in her petrified state, she hadn’t even thought of the indecency of prolonged muzzle contact. With Lady Lunacy herself, even! Her fear overrode all embarrassment; she would, it seemed, freak out about it later.

“But Nightmare Night has passed, minion. You are not required to fear me.” Luna did not ask the maid to sit at ease; instead, Shine felt a jab of magic in her brain that did the job without either party’s request. She shivered.

“Speak,” Luna said.

“Y-yes, Princess.” The maid struggled to put words together over the sudden worsening of her stutter, but found three. “Is—is she okay?”

“You are terrified for your life, and ask for a friend. Your character is acceptable.” Luna received no response. After a pause, she said, “Open your eyes, minion. You shall not experience harm by witnessing my countenance.”

Oh, good, Shine thought. Princess Luna’s verbal traps were even worse than Celestia’s. She wouldn’t be harmed by witnessing, of course—but that was by, and not for. Still, it was an order, so things would get worse if she didn’t obey. Reluctantly, Shine raised her head towards her executioner’s voice, and opened her eyes.

Luna was just looking at her, bearing a strange expression that mixed amusement with sadness.

“Thank you,” the Princess said. “Speak your questions, minion. I have already chosen my course.”

If Princess Luna was trying to be comforting, it was not effective, but she had no reputation for lying or forgetting. The maid was utterly doomed, then, but she could understand before the end. It took the edge off her terror.

“Th-thank you, Princess. W-what about my friend?”

“That which is mine shall not be broken,” Luna said. Her firmness would have been reassuring if she had said nothing more. “Gleaming Shield is at peace beyond your current understanding. She has rarely been more well.”

“D-dead?” It was the only word Spit Shine could push out.

“They say a statue is made of stone. Stone is made of earth. Earth is not alive.”

The world sank in Shine’s belly.

“They say a pony is made of grass, which is earth and water,” Princess Luna said, looking over her shoulder at the petrified Gleaming Shield. “A pony is made also of sky, which is air and water. Mostly, however, she is made of water and magic. Earth, water, and air are not alive. Magic is probably not alive.”

Luna paused for a moment and looked down at Spit Shine, who quickly averted her gaze.

“I am not alive. No pony has ever lived. Your question has no true and rigorous answer, minion.”

That made no sense at all. Was the Princess too smart? Was Shine too stupid? Both? But Luna spoke again, more gently this time.

“Your friend could hear us if she paid attention. She feels and dreams. Her heart overflows with love for those she holds dear. We have a changeling attendant to prevent her turning pink and liquefying.” Luna laid down to relax between the statue and the mare meant to clean it, and the maid felt her body move like a puppet to match. It wasn’t the worst thing that could be happening right then. For once, changelings weren’t the worst possibility, either.

Spit Shine’s puppeteer sighed. “The rumors do not begin to grasp the scale of my madness, minion, but I cared to learn that much. Fear not.”

“So, you d-do plan to let her g-go?” Shine asked. Or had the Princess said it for her?

“It is not a thing I choose to plan, but it will happen. Your friend always returns to the other ponies in her life. Your diligence in looking after her will do you credit, I think.”

“I can’t.” The maid immediately regretted opening her mouth, and held onto the floor as best she could—but nothing happened. She had time to explain, then. “I-I’m being reassigned.”

“By my own order, minion. My sister’s steward understands when I ask a pony be given a task that needs no doing in a place that has no being. It is immaterial that I have chosen to move ahead of schedule.”

That meant only bad things, but Spit Shine’s fear was growing weary. Her hind legs and body couldn’t rise, which implied Princess Luna’s magic was not done. She was able to lift a foreleg, and spoke again with her head bowed and heart crossed. Maybe, just maybe, her recently-intensified senses of duty and diligence would help. If not… the day was already unlikely to end well.

“Private Spit Shine, Day G-Guard, Second Company, r-reporting for duty, Your Highness.”

Luna shook her head. “That is out of date, minion. Properly: Dame Spit Shine, Dust Guard—but yes, Second Company.”

“I’m a d-dame?” Shine sputtered. There was no world in which that made sense.

“Princess Mi Amore Cadenza knights any pony she does not see for a few hours, including most of the Guard, and thinks it posthumous. Her heart is warm and open to all, but knows no sense of object constancy.”

Cadenza? The rumored Princess of Nowhere? No, no. If duty and diligence could save Spit Shine, she had to set her mind back on track.

“You have asked nothing of yourself,” Luna said, gesturing to the smaller mare. “Before I act, I would arm you with knowledge. I have observed in secret. You are not like your friend; you, my sister has left disturbed, anxious, and unhappy.

“I am a Princess of Equestria, and Celestia is my only peer. It is not wise to undo what she has done, but I would not see you broken, minion. You, too, are mine.” Luna’s horn glowed blue. Spit Shine’s body turned numb all at once, and Luna said, "Now return to your task. You will be relieved soon enough.”

Shine tried to answer, but couldn’t feel her tongue. Every word came out wrong. At least she could rise, though, and the Princess stepped out of the way as Shine approached the statue of Gleaming Shield. She lifted a rag to rub at a crevice in the marble mare’s mane, but the instant she made contact, her hoof and the rag became stuck fast. She looked over her shoulder, but Princess Luna shook her head.

“Do your best,” the alicorn said. Shine uttered a garbled sound of acknowledgement and returned to task, using her other forehoof to try to free the rag, but it became stuck as well. The problem became visible a moment later, when the rag and the nails of the maid’s hooves turned to marble.

This was not okay. This was not okay! Spit Shine struggled, trying to pull her hooves away, but her increasingly panicked efforts bore no fruit. A moment later, the aura of Princess Luna’s magic filled her vision, and her body entered and held a calmer, gentler pose on its own. Numbness entered her head, confusing and ending her struggles.

“You shall be compensated for this service, minion.”

Those were the last words the maid noticed. Marble flowed up her legs, and then she saw nothing; more accurately, she no longer possessed sight. No part of her body signalled a presence. She was awareness in isolation.

A profound sense of calm enveloped Shine. It was not her own. The calm noticed her, and a dream sprang up all around.

Spit Shine sat on a grassy hill. It was a moonlit night. The ocean was perhaps thirty meters away, filling the air with salt and the primal music of waves breaking on the beach below. Next to her was Gleaming Shield, whose image was covered in patches of grey stone and projected a serene smile.

Gleaming didn’t open her mouth, but the dreamscape filled with her gentle voice all the same.

“Of course I noticed. Thank you for taking care of me, friend.”

Spit Shine tried opening her mouth, but speech didn’t work. She managed to respond, a few minutes later, by thinking loudly.

“You talk? What’s going on? Aren’t you a statue?”

“I can be quite vocal on the inside,” Gleam responded. “You feel less unsettled than before. I’m glad Princess Luna is letting you visit.”

Spit Shine paused to evaluate. She was confused, but surrounded by Gleaming’s calm and her gentle, pervasive happiness. It was easy to feel comfortable without the knots and tension Shine usually felt within her body. It was even easier to draw little pieces of her friend’s calm into herself, but they popped back out a moment later.

“You shouldn’t break down the borders that separate us,” Gleam warned. “I am happy to be myself regardless of form, but without those barriers, there is only we, and not even the Princesses combined could properly disentangle us.”

Shine shivered. “Noted.” The calm around her still helped, though. She followed her friend’s gaze, and found herself watching the moon for a while. It was Gleaming who eventually broke the silence again.

“You’ve adapted well, at least,” her voice observed. “I’m glad of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t an ordinary dream. It is a sort of telepathic link, I believe, most likely provided by Princess Luna. Within it we are merely selves, insensible to our bodies. You remain a mare, dear friend.”

Spit Shine turned her attention to herself. Her dream shape did resemble her body, though it was smaller, and she could see the grass through her hooves. When had she last thought of herself as he, as a stallion? It must have been at least eight moons.

“Princess Luna told me once, when she thought I wasn’t listening, that the identity of Equestrian ponies is more malleable than it used to be.” Gleaming tilted her head towards one hoof, or more accurately, she tilted everything but her head and hoof—her body, the grass, the ocean, the horizon, the moon, Spit Shine—and giggled. “It’s for the best. The Princesses don’t really need guarding. Or maids, for that matter, but the castle is lazy and enjoys our attention.”

That the castle itself was alive and self-indulgent didn’t even surprise Spit Shine anymore. She looked back up at the moon. “So I was never getting that job back.”

“You’re one of the hardest-working ponies I know.” Gleaming paused, hmmed, and said, “Probably not.”

“All that work just proved I was better as a maid, didn’t it?” Shine projected a groan and rubbed her forehead. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Don’t worry, I've never held it against you.”

“Hey!”

Gleaming’s full and open laughter was something Spit Shine had never witnessed before, but it now rang and rippled throughout the tilted realm, and the mare’s mirth and love filled its wake with warmth. Shine couldn’t stay mad at that, and once the laughter died down, she “spoke” again.

“How many times have the Princesses done this to you, anyway? Is this—” she pointed at her friend “—what I should expect?”

“Not many,” Gleam responded. She looked at herself for a moment. “Only once before you joined up, and this time is the third. Why?”

“Your ‘self’ is partly stone.”

“Oh.” Gleaming Shield looked down at her hooves for a minute. Shine waited, and Gleaming eventually looked up at her again. “I don’t think I told you that story. But it’s not bad, Shiny. Some in the gardens have forgotten how to be anything else.”

“I don’t want to know.” Spit Shine shuddered, and reached for a distraction. “You said there was a story? I have nothing but time right now.”

“You have a friend.” Gleaming’s voice spread that pleasant warmth again. “But it’s not a long story, anyway. I was born in Fillydelphia, and one day the Princess brought the Summer Sun Celebration to town. I was star-struck. A few moons later, my family moved to Ponyville for the lower cost of living and because I struggled to tolerate the city’s noise. Or maybe it was because we would be closer to Canterlot. Believe it or not, I was a loud foal, and I wanted to see the Princess again.

“When I was six, my teacher took the whole class on a field trip into the Everfree Forest. We were meant to be safe in numbers. Maybe so, but I got lost and ran into a cockatrice. Somepony found me eleven years later.”

“I’m sorry—” Shine started, but Gleaming looked at her and held up a hoof.

“It’s alright, friend. It wasn’t timber wolves or stranglethorns or glorp. Once I stopped freaking out, things were okay. It didn’t hurt besides the loneliness.” Gleaming gestured forwards, poofing a rabbit, a matronly pony, and a beetle into view, giant portraits that hovered above the ocean before disappearing again.

“So I imagined a few friends to make myself okay again. But in my most important formative years, I was petrified longer than not,” Gleaming’s voice narrated. Her horn lit up and created the image of a statue that resembled a little colt. She stopped there, letting the image fade.

“I had no idea.” Spit Shine glanced at her friend again. Was it her imagination, or had the patches of stone within Gleaming Shield’s form spread just a little?

“It’s alright,” Gleaming repeated. “There are very talented specialists who helped me learn to be a pony again, but the peace and quiet was a blessing. I think Princess Luna knows that now, and that’s probably why she keeps changing me, but she didn’t make me feel this way.”

Shine looked out over the water so as not to stare. She had wondered why her friend was so soft-spoken, or why she almost never wanted to meet in public. How she’d managed to marry, though, remained without explanation.

“How long am I going to be here, then?”

“Since it was Princess Luna…” Gleaming hmmed again. “As long or short as you need, probably. She enjoys us as statues, and I think her love of petrification is matched only by Princess Celestia’s thing for maids, but she cares for us as ponies too.”

“You’re saying the Princess doesn’t?” Shine answered. It came out sharper than she’d meant, but—she stopped and considered. It suddenly felt strange how loyal she remained to the same pony who had more or less betrayed her.

“Shiny.” Gleaming shifted to a more serious expression. “I never outgrew my foalish adoration of her, so I say this with all possible love. She does care, but when she makes a statue, she plants it in her garden and expects it to grow branches, and forgets it was a pony. Princess Luna keeps us close, and she never forgets.”

Spit Shine looked away again.

“I wouldn’t mind it.” Gleaming’s voice grew softer, and a quiet sadness penetrated the cloud of calm and warmth that was her presence. “But I live as a pony too, now. I love my husband and our son. I love my Princesses. I love my fathers and sister. I love my friends. I love you. And I would like very much, when I am old and ready, for somepony to also remember and care for me.”

“If I’m around,” Shine blurted. The words came of their own accord.

“Thank you. But don’t worry about that just now, Shiny.” Gleaming smiled. “I’m not much older than you, excluding the field trip, and my time is hardly near. For now, let me help you find a moment's peace.”

“How?”

“Close off this inner sight, or stare out between the stars. Think of something comforting and good. I like to shut out everything else and contemplate the ponies I love.”

Gleaming Shield closed her eyes and lapsed into silence. Spit Shine watched her for a minute, then looked upwards. There was no heartbeat, no breath, no real sensation to draw her from this lucid dream. Even the waves spoke less and less. The all-encompassing calm of Gleaming’s mind did not enter Shine’s, but it set her at ease and allowed imitation. Her eyes found a particularly dark patch of sky. Her mind wandered.

The new statue didn’t notice Princess Luna watching. She didn’t notice the dream’s dissipation. She didn’t notice when her friend was released for several moons to work and be with family. Her self-image grew its first grey hair—a single delicate strand of marble.

She had nowhere else to be. There was nothing left to fear. Here, away from everything, was peace and occasional good company.

Spit Shine rested.