Fork in the Road

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5

Chapter 1

Lemon Hearts had only been working at Canterlot Castle for six months and it was with calm, creeping, dreadful acceptance that she realized she was about to get bucking fired.

“It all seemed simple enough,” she muttered idly, watching as Princess Luna stamped her way around the table. “Just… serve the Princess her meals.” With a gust of mana, the Princess swept up each and every fork into her magic to join the rapidly growing fork ball hovering shakily above her head.

“Where… where did I go wrong?” The Princess didn’t answer, unless the sound of squealing metal-on-metal counted. But really, why should she? She’d been back from the moon for even less time than Lemon Hearts’ contract.

“Retrieve the Princess,” she heard one nameless guard mutter quietly to another, and by the seriousness of his tone, Lemon knew it wasn’t Princess Luna they were talking about.

“And what am I going to do for my retirement plans? Sweet Celestia, what am I going to do about my rent,” and now she could hear it and feel it, now Lemon's anxiety was finally rising to match Luna’s upset.

“Ha!”

Lemon Hearts flinched at the sudden sound. She swung her head around and yes, it was Princess Luna alright, glaring with a strange mixture of amusement and resentment shining in her teal eyes.

“Our sister’s own name is a curse now, is it?” Luna snorted, stamped her hoof; the fork ball condensed in her magic, crunching into itself. “How exceedingly fitting.”

“Wh–”

WHAM!

The doors slammed open, and this time, the suddenness of the sound sent Lemon Hearts to the floor.

“What is going on in here?” Princess Celestia thundered. Lemon clumsily shifted her cower into something approximating a bow. The Princess paid it no heed regardless, striding up to stand toe-to-toe with Princess Luna. Luna met Celestia’s imperious glower with her own seething glare. Several beats of silence passed, teal eyes glaring into baleful purple ones.

“We are redecorating,” Luna finally snipped. The door guard snorted, immediately sticking his hoof into his mouth to stifle it.

“I can see that.” Princess Celestia’s gaze narrowed, and she glanced at the ball of forks, each one twisted and mashed beyond recognition, her gaze unfathomable. “And you are in no way, I am sure, choosing an unhealthy outlet for your frustration again,” she continued dryly.

“It is quite within Our rights to–”

“Act out like a small child instead of trying to address your emotions constructively?” Celestia finished, cutting Luna off. Luna sputtered, and then she lost control.

The fork ball, already hovering so precariously, shook, shuddered, and finally shattered, bits of metal going flying. The shrapnel shot out like bullets in every direction, shattering the glass tableware, pinging mostly harmlessly off the decorative armor suits lining the dining hall, and otherwise embedding themselves in the walls. Lemon Hearts’ bow was back to being a cower as she threw herself flat to the ground, covering her eyes—she wouldn’t be able to afford an eye doctor once she’d been well and truly sacked, she thought wildly.

The quiet that followed was broken only by Princess Luna’s ragged breaths and, somehow, Princess Celestia’s silent disappointment.

“My study. Now.”

In a flash of golden light, both princesses were gone.

The door guards rushed over to heave Lemon Hearts off the ground, the pegasus patting her down for any injuries. “No, no, I-I’m alright,” she insisted.

And then she promptly burst into tears.

____________________________

An entire box of chamomile tea and two weeks later, and still no pink slip was forthcoming. Surely angering a royal was… well, not treason probably (she hoped), but at least punishable with dismissal (she was sure)?

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Minuette said, chomping on her apple. “It’s not like you gave the princess something she was allergic to or something! Besides, I hear she’s still adjusting to being back from the moon.” She shrugged, and took another bite.

“I’d like to believe that, but you didn’t see her, Minuette,” Lemon Hearts insisted. She grabbed the next damp linen tablecloth in her magic, shook it out with a single sharp snap! and settled it carefully on the clothes line. “All I did was serve her her meal—the chef said braised carrots with glazed pears is her favorite!” she cried.

“Hmm, then maybe she just didn’t like it?” Minuette took another bite. “Her tastes could have changed over a thousand years. We definitely don’t like the same foods we did as fillies, right?”

“You would eat donuts for every meal if you could get away with it,” Lemon said, rolling her eyes even as she finished pinning the cloth in place and moved onto the next one.

“Yeah,” Minuette sighed glumly. “We can’t all have Pinkie Pie’s constitution, I guess.”

“Mere mortals shouldn’t wish for godly powers,” Lemon Hearts chided with half a smile. And then she remembered the precarious nature of her position at Canterlot Castle and the roiling anxiety guts were right back where they started.

“I can’t lose this job,” she muttered, snapping out a second and third linen and tossing them over the line to join the rest.

“You’re not gonna lose it,” Minuette insisted again. She leaned back against and tossed her apple core into the nearby bush. “And if you do, you’ll find another. Easy come, easy go, there’s always jobs that need doing.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you inherited your dad’s—wait.” Lemon Hearts blinked owlishly at her friend, lounging so carelessly under the tree in the dappled morning light. “Minuette, what are you doing here? And did you just litter on castle grounds?”

“Delivery.” She shrugged and leaned back against the trunk, utterly carefree. “New hourglasses for the Lunar Wing’s library.”

“And now you’re just here to, to hang out?” Lemon Hearts sputtered. “Wait, and throw your trash away!”

“It’s just an apple core, Lemmy, it’ll decompose.” Minuette stretched her hooves over her head. “Or maybe a bird will find it first. Who knows?”

“Minuette—”

“I think this nocturnal schedule might be bad for you,” Minuette said. Lemon blinked at the sudden shift in topic. “You were never this anxious before you got assigned to serve the Princess.”

“I was unemployed before I got assigned to serve the princess, what’s there to be anxious about when you have no job prospects and no future,” Lemon answered despite herself.

“You have to know that’s not true, Lemmy,” Minuette insisted, and for once her happy-go-lucky tone was edging towards sadness. “You’re super smart and capable, I’m sure anypony would hire you in a heartbeat after a single interview.”

“Not if my mother had anything to say about it,” she muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Lemon Hearts answered quickly, cutting off her friend and her own train of thought. “But don’t you think you should be heading back to work?” she asked pointedly.

“Probably.” Minuette bounced up back to standing, hoovering her saddlebags back into place. “Oh, right! I brought you more tea.” She floated out a box of chamomile and passed it to Lemon Hearts.

“You don’t have to do that,” Lemon Hearts stammered, and Celestia be damned, she was turned red, she could feel it.

“It’s no trouble,” Minuette answered easily with another shrug and smile. “I know your mom is the only one who sells this brand in Canterlot, and that it’s your favorite.”

And that you don’t want to see her, was left unspoken between them.

“... Thanks, Minnie,” Lemon Hearts finally said. And she was grateful, really.

She just wished she could enjoy a cup of tea without it feeling like a battle each time.

“Anytime, Lemmy!” Minuette beamed.

“Speaking of time… I guess I should wrap up and head to dinner and bed soon.” Though ‘dinner’ was a late breakfast for everypony else. Lemon Hearts grabbed the empty laundry hamper in her magic, stifling a yawn. “See you later, Minuette.” She paused, turned, jabbed a hoof in her friend’s direction. “And throw away your trash next time!”

“But I did, silly,” Minuette chuckled.

“In a trash can.”

But Minuette was already giggling her goodbyes and trotting off. Lemon Hearts sighed, turning back to the castle.

Dinner, and then a nice cup of tea, and then bed, she decided firmly. Disappointed mothers and princesses be damned.

Chapter 2

“Make sure to roll the dough out flat, dear. A quarter inch thick.”

“Yes, mother!” There was flour all down my front and ground into my hooves and coat, but I’d never been happier. I pressed down on the rolling pin, again and again, until the dough that I had so painstakingly kneaded was flat and floured and ready, just the way mother liked it.

“Acceptable,” mother said from behind me, and my stomach warmed with the praise. “Though you should really be using your horn for such things, not your hooves, darling,” she chastised, and the warmth was gone as quickly as it had come.

“Y-yes, mother,” I answered dutifully, hopping off my step stool so that mother could do the fun, I mean the important part! Of cutting out the cookies.

“Once your magic is refined enough, you’ll be able to cut out cookies yourself,” mother continued, perhaps sensing my disappointment, or perhaps just filling the silence. She stamped out shortbread hearts one after the other, a practiced symphony of flashing cookie cutters, pans, and dough. Within minutes, the dough I had worked so hard on was gone, whisked away into the oven to bake.

“Now, why don’t you show me how your brewing is coming along?” mother asked as she slid the oven door shut. She grabbed one of the many kettles from the rack over the kitchen island, filled it with water, and then encased it in her graceful magic.

“Chamomile tea takes three to five minutes to brew,” I said, making sure to enunciate my t’s the way mother liked. She didn’t like it when they were all slurred together, rounded out into d’s instead of being pointy like a proper t. “It does not turn bitter when over-steeped, and it has anti-inflammatory and antiphli–antiphy–anti-fever properties,” I stammered.

“Of course, we would never over-steep or over-step, isn’t that right, Lemon Hearts?” mother asked. I gulped and nodded. Flour snowed down from my mane to the floor, and mother tutted, grabbing the broom in her magic.

“A lady should never make a mess of herself,” mother chided, and I nodded again, this time leaving my head low. Maybe then she wouldn’t see me cry, either.

But mother always knew.

“Chin up, darling.” And with a single tap of her hoof, I was looking into mother’s green eyes that looked so different from mine. “Crying is another type of mess,” she chided. The broom went to work cleaning up the fine dusting layered over the floor, mostly around myself.

“I-I’m sorry, mother,” I sniffled.

“And you haven’t been capitalizing my name, either,” she tutted. Behind her, the kettle started to whistle shrilly.

“W-what?” I sniffled again, swiping at my eyes with the foolish hope that removing the evidence would remove the sin.

“I am Mother, dear, not just your mother.” The kettle whistle pitched higher, louder, shaking and rattling in Mother’s green magic like a demon.

“Of course you are, Mother, I would never—”

“But you did,” she said, smiling sadly, and now the whistle was turning to a scream. “I’m disappointed, Lemon Hearts, but you’re still growing up. I suppose mistakes are expected.”

“Mother, I didn’t—”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” mother cooed, and she pulled me close to her chest, her warmth so confining and cloying and sweet. “I’m sure some time in your room to think about your mistakes will sort things out in no time.”

“N-no, mother, I mean Mother, I want to have tea and cookies with you—”

The oven timer chimed, its measured beeping joining in with the screaming kettle as the scent of lavender permeated the kitchen.

“Oh, that’s the cookies done already. Go on and head to your room, Lemon Hearts. We’ll try again together tomorrow, hm?”

“Mother please—”

“I’ll get the door for you, dear.”

And then she opened the oven door and shoved me inside

____________________________

Lemon Hearts came to with a gasp, and then another, a third and fourth and fifth, until she was sitting up in bed hyperventilating, sweat matting her coat and the sheets twisted around her legs like a vice.

Her little room was empty, of course, the way it always was. The last golden rays of the early evening light filtered through a gap in her blackout curtains, the sun not quite set. Lemon Hearts pressed her hooves to her eyes, hoping the pressure would help calm her racing breaths and pounding heart.

It didn’t.

Half an hour passed in still anxiety, the muffled sounds of evening birdsong slowly calming her body down in a way that she could never quite manage on her own.

“No more sleep for me,” she muttered, finally freeing her head from the cradle of her hooves.

The room was blurry, and bluer, now. The sunset was a small stamp of warmth on the bit of cool blue sky visible through the curtain gap. Lemon stared at it for a long time, long enough for the birdsong to fade and the stars to start winking themselves to life once again.

She shivered, finally feeling the effects of her cold sweat. Kicking the sheets off her legs warmed her up a bit, though, and she flopped back on the bed, finally free.

Just in time for her alarm clock to sound.

Lemon Hearts sighed.

“Shouldn’t have damned mothers and princesses,” she muttered, prying herself out of bed. Now she’d have to wash these sheets, too. As if the work laundry wasn’t enough.

She staggered to her hooves and stretched. A nightmare wasn’t the most auspicious start to a day. Night? Lemon Hearts stretched, cracking her neck one way and then the other. As she did, her eyes came to rest on the mug beside her bed, the dregs of her long since cooled chamomile tea gelling at the bottom. Between that and the wadded up bedsheets, her room was looking like quite the unladylike mess.

Lemon Hearts couldn’t help but smile. It was small, and she still felt exhausted, but it was better than nothing, she decided.

And definitely better than where she’d been.

She carted the mug out to the dim kitchen and practically tossed it in the sink as she shoved the tap up to maximum pressure. The calming scent of chamomile suffused the room, so much smaller than the grand kitchen in her dream. Lemon closed her eyes, her body at war between peace and anxiety as the water rushed down, overfilling the mug.

Wait.

Her nose scrunched up.

Mother had asked about, and been making chamomile tea… directly in the kettle? Lemon Hearts frowned. Mother would never do something so uncouth, that had been the first sign that it wasn’t real. But even so…

Why had it smelled so strongly of lavender at the end?

Chapter 3

“They’re not going to fire you,” Housekeeper Solaria insisted, rubbing her temple with one wizened hoof.

“Hm,” Lemon Hearts hummed dubiously. Several beats of silence passed.

“But how can you be so sure?” she burst out, all of her anxiety right back to the surface.

“I know a thing or two about this castle after forty years of running it,” Solaria answered sagely. “They don’t waste talent or bits here.” She eyed Lemon Hearts carefully. “And hiring ponies is expensive.”

Lemon Hearts’ flicked an ear. She leaned closer to the table, really putting her horn into her spoon polishing.

“I mean it,” the housekeeper insisted, throwing down her polishing cloth. “Especially since you can polish the forks again on your own without panicking.” She sighed. “And thank Celestia for that. Anyway, I need to go see about this week’s grocery delivery.” The housekeeper stood, her knees cracking audibly. “Getting too old for this…” she muttered.

She trotted briskly out of the room, bobbing her head curtly to the guards as she passed.

An hour of restful silence ticked by, Lemon Hearts moving from spoon to fork to knife and back again, polishing each piece of silverware with care. It was mind numbing work, but it paid well enough to afford rent and a decent living, and the benefits were stellar.

And, perhaps most importantly, it was the kind of job that didn’t require a college degree to get.

A mare has two paths in life, her brain offered ever so helpfully.

“Buck off,” she muttered, putting the knife down with more force than was perhaps necessary.

College had never been for her, no matter how much her mother wanted it to be. Lemon Hearts… unicorn horn be damned, she liked to work with her hooves. Things like baking and laundry and silver polishing and meal serving might not be the most glamorous or sought after tasks, but they were tasks that would always need doing.

Dishes and laundry and taxes, the trifecta of never ending obligations.

Besides, working in the castle set ponies for life, you just had to work your way up the ladder… and wait for the older staff to retire.

“Hello, my little pony.”

“Hell–oh sweet Celestia, I-I mean, Princess Celestia!” Lemon Hearts’ dreamy daze rocketed right past reasonable and straight into full blown panic. She threw her spoon, and herself, to the ground for the second time in as many weeks, prostrating herself into a deep bow. “How may I be of service?” she asked Princess Celestia’s hoofguards.

“Please rise,” the Princess said, her tone warm. “Your name is Lemon Hearts, correct?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Lemon Hearts answered, heart hammering in her chest. “And, u-um, yes, Your Highness.” She risked a glance upward, but the Princess’ face projected nothing but calm amusement, and the only pink Lemon Hearts saw was in the Princess’ ethereal mane, not a pink slip in sight.

“Lemon Hearts, I know that the incident the other day was a bit…”

The unicorn swallowed.

“Well.” Princess Celestia smiled, a small, bland thing. “Regardless of the description, I wanted to have a chat with you.”

Lemon Hearts pursed her lips together, nodded.

“Let us go for a stroll in the garden, shall we? I get to see it so rarely, in the evening.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

She trailed behind the Princess, past the guards (the pegasus gave her a wink, which only made her more nervous), down the main corridor and out into the sprawling garden. The crickets had already emerged from their slumber, and their sleepy chirps were a balm on Lemon Hearts’ frazzled heart.

They walked in silence for a time, into the garden proper, until they came to a large marble fountain.

Celestia turned, and gave Lemon Hearts the same gentle smile she wore every day. It was no less terrifying up close.

“I wanted to discuss your future at Canterlot castle with you, Lemon Hearts.”

Lemon’s stomach dropped.

She opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

Nothing was coming out.

A crow cawed nearby, spurring Lemon Hearts into action.

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness, please don’t fire me!”

“Fire you?” Celestia frowned delicately. “Whatever for?”

“For, for upsetting the Princess, Princess Luna, I mean, the other day, I didn’t mean to—”

Celestia held up a hoof, and Lemon Hearts stopped her word vomit so suddenly she thought she’d choke on it.

“You did nothing to upset my sister. She was merely upset, and you were merely caught in the crossfire.” Celestia shook her head once. “You have been nothing but an exemplary employee, my little pony. Housekeeper Solaria has told me as much.”

Lemon Hearts’ mouth was open again, but shutting a gobsmacked mouth was not a task for the shocked.

“You’re not going to fire me?”

“Not unless you would like to be.” The Princess’ smile quirked up into, dare Lemon say it, a smirk. “I hear employment is at a record high in Equestria, so I imagine the unemployment office would welcome the business if you so desire.”

“N-n-no, no, I am quite happy where I am, Your Highness!” Lemon Hearts yelped.

“Excellent. Then sit, and let us discuss your future here, as I mentioned.” She gestured to the bench beside the fountain, and Lemon Hearts rushed to take the proffered seat.

“You seem quite anxious, and the hour grows late, so I will not avail you of too much of your time,” Celestia began. “Solaria has been itching to retire for the last decade, but has so far been unsuccessful in finding a suitable replacement to train for her position.” Her smile gentled again. “Until now. She has put forth your name.”

The evening breeze picked up, but Princess Celestia’s ethereal mane remained unaffected.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I am offering you a promotion,” the Princess prompted.

“No… no?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Indeed.” She leveled her considering stare on Lemon Hearts, her gaze unfathomable. “Solaria has been quite impressed with your table settings in particular, and your overall attention to detail.” She paused, as if waiting for a response, but Lemon Hearts offered none. “That is a trait that would serve you quite well as housekeeper.”

“O-oh. I see. Yes, that makes sense, Your Highness.” Lemon blinked. “I’m sorry, this is a lot to process.”

“Then I hope my second request does not add to your burden further,” Celestia chuckled. “I will speak plainly: my sister requires an etiquette teacher. Much has changed in the years since her banishment.” Lemon Hearts could almost sense the pain in her words—almost, but not quite. “I would like to additionally hire you for that purpose, while you complete your housekeeper training.”

“But… me, Your Highness?” Sure, Mother had drilled formal etiquette into Lemon’s head for her entire life since foalhood, but she’s never thought of it as a useful skill, really. “Surely there are more experienced teachers than me?”

“Such as your mother?”

Lemon Hearts gulped.

“Y-yes, Your Highness.”

“I’m afraid that you have many things that your mother lacks, even with her years of experience as a renowned debutante instructor.” Her smile faded. “Youth, for starters. A thousand years is a long time, but in many ways, my sister is still very young. I think that a younger teacher would aid in her… absorption, of the information,” Celestia explained. “And you are one of Twilight’s friends.”

“I… don’t know, Your Highness.” And she could feel it. The well of fear and failure and disappointment swelled within her, the pressure building until her chest was tight, almost too tight to breath.

“Nonsense. You have a gift for formal dining tableware set up. Would it be fair to say that you are likewise familiar with formal dining etiquette?”

“Uh.” Lemon Hearts blinked. Well, she was indeed familiar with it.. “Yes, Your Highness,” she repeated once more.

“Excellent. We shall draw up your new contract tomorrow evening upon your arrival.” Celestia critically eyed Lemon Hearts’ maid uniform. “And get you fitted for your new wardrobe.” And then she grinned.
“And do take care not to keep me waiting too long. I’m staying up quite past my bedtime these days.”

The Princess sashayed away, a spring in her step. Lemon Hearts watched her sightlessly, still in shock.

“Oh. And do take the time to enjoy the garden before you head back, Lemon Hearts. The jasmine and lavender are lovely this time of night.”

____________________________

“Etiquette teacher for Princess Luna?!” Minuette cried. “That’s amazing news, Lemmy! How’d you manage to swing that?”

“I’m… honestly not sure,” Lemon Hearts admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “One thing just sort of led to another, and then suddenly they were taking my measurements for a new uniform and having me sign a new training contract. I guess the housekeeper has been wanting to retire, but hasn’t had the time to vet a replacement.”

“So you’ll be the new housekeeper, too, then?” Minuette took a massive bite of her donut. “That’s so awesome, Lemon Hearts!”

“It is? I mean, yeah, it is.” Lemon Hearts floated her own donut up to hover in front of her mouth, but didn’t take a bite. “I was just so convinced they were going to fire me for upsetting Princess Luna,” she said, mystified. “And instead they promoted me.”

“Well, did you?” Minuette asked.

“Did I what?”

“Upset the Princess.”

“Yes.” She… had not actually really thought about it, just assumed it to be true. “I must have, right?”

“Didn’t you just give her her breakfast?” Minuette paused, tilted her head. “Or does breakfast equal dinner, when you’re nocturnal?”

“I guess… yes, I did just give her her meal,” Lemon Hearts answered, carefully skirting the second question.

“Sounds like she upset herself, then.” Minuette finished her donut with a second massive bite. “Could you pass the napkins?”

“Maybe you’re right,” Lemon muttered, pushing the napkin holder closer to her friend’s growing pile of crumbs.

“‘Course I am! You’re great, Lemmy.” Minuette smiled warmly across the table, her blue eyes so clear and bright and sure in a way that Lemon Hearts had never been. “I’m just glad others are seeing it, too. Took ‘em long enough, eh?”

“Yeah,” Lemon agreed. A small sprig of confidence bloomed in her chest.

Maybe things really were taking a turn for the better.

Maybe she really could be successful after all.

Maybe… Lemon Hearts wasn’t such a fuck up after all.

Chapter 4

Lemon Hearts pressed her hoof down the pleated front of her new dress shirt and glanced up at the clock. She’d almost been late, after sleeping through her alarm. But the anxiety had been… shallower, this time. Still there, but less deep and gripping than usual.

Getting to tell off her mother in a way she had always wished she could had been truly empowering, she guessed.

But it was already nearing eight o’clock, the last rays of sunset long since faded, and the mullioned windows already blackened by nightfall. The food would be getting cold if it took much longer.

“Princess Luna has arrived!” the guard cried, but the door was already swinging open.

And so she had—either fashionably late or right on time, depending on the court member you asked. Princess Luna stepped into the dining hall, fluid and rolling and regal. Her coat had darkened a few shades since their last encounter, but her light blue mane remained the same in color, bound up as it was into an elegant, almost classical updo. Lemon Hearts bowed carefully, her heart in her throat as she straightened.

“H-hello, Your Highness,” she said, mentally running through the script she’d written out last night. “My name is Lemon Hearts, and I will be your etiquette teacher.”

“Indeed,” Princess Luna answered imperiously, coming to a stop beside one of two table settings. She quirked a brow upward, waiting. Lemon Hearts lit her horn, carefully pulling the chair out.

The Princess dropped into her seat with graceful aplomb. “Our sister has informed Us that We require a ‘brush up’ to Our dining skills.” She eyed Lemon Hearts. “Apparently much has changed in a thousand years, not that We think that that should be any concern of Ours,” she continued sourly. “It is the duty of denizens to oblige and imitate their rulers, not the duty of rulers to ingratiate themselves to the masses.” Luna sniffed, opting to stare balefully at the rice pilaf draped elegantly across her plate.

“Cuisine and dining has gradually morphed into its own art form over time,” Lemon offered helpfully. “Various foreign political factions have come to expect certain customs and procedures. I am certain that Your Highness will pick it up quite rapidly, given your solid foundations.”

“Hm.” The Princess nudged her knife delicately. “All the better to ‘get to know’ Us for thy transition into thy new role,” she noted dryly. Lemon Hearts flushed.

“Your Highness, it is a joy to serve you and impart my knowledge, little though it is—”

“Do not faff about with false flattery, We neither desire nor need it as such,” Luna snapped. Lemon tensed, half expecting the Princess to start throwing a fit again as her anger spiked. But instead, it cooled almost as soon as it had come. Luna leaned back into her seat, her posture more upright and controlled than anything Lemon Hearts could ever hope to approximate.

“Our sister has instructed Us to apologize to thee.” A pause. “We shall do no such thing. To prostrate oneself before a servant is an image best left to one’s flights of fancy.” She cut a glance at Lemon Hearts. “However, We shall… humor thy attempts at succor,” Luna said imperiously.

“Oh.” Lemon Hearts didn’t really know what to say to that, but ‘you sound like Princess Celestia’ was clearly out. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“See to it that thou does not disappoint Us.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Lemon Hearts smiled. “Shall we begin with the layout and order of utensil usage?”

“Very well,” Luna sighed.

____________________________

“That is the wrong fork, dear,” Mother chided.

I frowned, but smoothed it before Mother could notice the wrinkles forming. She would chastise her for ‘damaging her beautiful face’, but I knew by now that what she really cared about was my perceived value.

“Mother,” I said, setting down my salad fork.

“Yes, dear,” Mother asked, gracefully sipping her tea.

“I don’t want to go to college.”

And there it was. The Sigh.

“We’ve talked about this, Lemon Hearts…”

“No, Mother,” I said, and the uncharacteristic boldness suffused my body with warmth. “You have talked. You’ve never listened to me, or what I have to say. What I want.”

“What do you want?” Mother tittered. “There is nothing more important in life than station. Station is the obligation that allows you to have what you want.” Her gaze, so demurely focused on her plate, rose to meet mine, and her blue eyes were glacial. “Again, we have discussed this.”

“That I must either become a forerunner in a magical field or marry one to rise up above my ‘station’, yes, you’ve said that many times,” I answered scornfully. “And I’m telling you now, Mother.” I swallowed. The nerves were back, as squirming and restless as always.

“I’m telling you, that I won’t do it.”

Silence reigned. The mantle clock ticked on by, heedless of the growing tension as each tock filled the space between us, that ineffable sea that I had never been able to see, let alone swim, across.

“Your little friend, Twilight Sprinkle—”

“Sparkle,” I corrected, and it felt like a victory. Mother’s expression soured.

“Yes, her. Her parents are common ilk. And yet she became the personal student of the Princess, and her brother the paramour of Princess Cadance, and head of the Royal Guard besides.”

“So what, mother?”

“You come from nobility, Lemon Hearts, so why should you be any lesser than them?”

“I’m not lesser than them, and father was the third son of an unlanded Earl, that’s hardly the upper ranks.”

“You dare insult your family history!” Mother’s hooves slammed into the table, and I froze. In the kitchen, I heard the kettle whistle, the pitch slowly building.

“But the tea was already made,” I muttered.

“You dare insult me!” Mother continued, stomping around the table to get up in my face.

“This is a dream,” I realized, and it was true. I could see the fuzzy edges, the inconsistencies—the clock running backwards, the faceless portraits on the walls, the strange double timbre of Mother’s voice.

“A proper unicorn lady has only two paths in life—thaumaturgic success or marrying into it!” Mother’s magic snatched onto my mane and tugged, pulling me down to her level. Had she always been this small, this delicate, I wondered, staring into her livid eyes. “You will go to university, and you will become a proper unicorn once and for all, instead of mucking about like some earth pony filth with your hooves and your dough and your silly ideas about what you want!”

“No.”

“What?” Mother reeled back, utterly incensed.

“No.”

“You dare—!”

“I do,” I answered simply. “You’re just… a bad pony,” I realized, taking a step back. The dream was fading, dissolving like paper in a puddle. A rush of lavender filled my nostrils again, and I breathed in.

“You’re petty and racist, and you don’t love me, not in the way that counts.” I smiled sadly, but my eyes were dry this time. “I never really realized it before.”

Realized what? A quiet voice murmured, the lavender scent growing stronger still.

“That I’m not the one who has messed up.” I gazed levelly at my mother, so small and terrible and lovely. “You are.”

The dream popped like a soap bubble.

Chapter 5

Princess Luna grimaced at her fork, hovering carefully in her magic, and took a bite of her peas, an almost perfect mirror of Lemon Hearts’ own motion. A few weeks of learning the purpose of each utensil had brought them up to refining the use and motion for each. In truth, a thousand years on the moon had done little to dull Luna’s original training, and most of the refinement was necessitated by learning new utensils, courses, and foods that had not existed a millennium ago.

Truthfully, it was nice. Housekeeper training was exhausting, and etiquette training, despite being at the start of Luna’s day, was at the end of Lemon’s’. She pressed her napkin to her mouth, stifling a yawn. The sleepy silence wasn’t helping.

“How goes thy training?” Luna finally asked, breaking the quiet. It was unusual for her to do so, and Lemon Hearts welcomed having something to focus on other than rote motions.

“Well enough, Your Highness,” Lemon answered with a wan smile. “It is… more work that I was expecting, and I was already expecting being a housekeeper to be a lot of work.”

“Chatelaine.”

“What—that is, pardon, Your Highness?”

“Thou art a chatelaine, the Chatelaine of Canterlot Castle,” Princess Luna intoned, lightly tapping her hoof on the edge of her plate. “Or thou will be, upon commencement of thy training.”

“I…” Lemon Hearts blinked owlishly at her plate. “It said ‘housekeeper’ on the job description.” A beat. “Your Highness.”

“As if a palace so grand could be referred to, and kept, as simply as a house.” Luna snorted. “The term is familiar enough to Our ears, though the position’s name has likely diminished to this moniker in some… effort to suit modern pony parlance.” She didn’t say ‘foolish’, but Lemon still heard it. “A chatelaine thou shall be.”

“Really?”

“Wilt thou be the keeper of all manner of keys and doors?”

Lemon Hearts nodded.

“And wilt thou be in charge of budgetary tasks and event planning as it pertains to the ‘household’?”

She nodded again.

“Then a chatelaine thou shall be,” Luna repeated, utterly bored. She rested her fork onto her plate, nudging it carefully into the correct position to indicate ‘done’.

“That is… quite a title.”

“I see.” And Luna did, cutting a glance at Lemon’s bewildered frown. “It is more title than thou were expecting.”

Lemon Hearts wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. “Yes, Your Highness. I suppose it is.”

“It is more title than thou thinks thou deserves,” Luna realized, surprised. She leaned back in her chair. “To where has thy measured confidence fled?”

“Confidence?” Lemon asked. “I’ve never been the most confident mare, Your Highness.” Or the most competent, she thought disappointedly.

“Thou art plenty competent,” Luna said, waving her hoof as if to brush the thought away. Lemon startled.

“Can… Your Highness read thoughts?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

“Of a kind,” Luna answered mysteriously. The seconds stretched. “The truth of thy thoughts are written in thine eyes, and across thy face.”

“Oh.” Lemon leaned back in her chair, her turn to mirror Luna’s motions. “I guess I’ve never considered myself to be… worthy of responsibility, I guess?” She frowned. “That was always more a Twilight thing, anyway. I guess I never really thought of it as being a ‘me’ thing, or even something… I could want.”

A myriad of emotions played across Luna’s face for an instant, each one poignant and personal, enough to take Lemon Hearts’ breath away—regret, anger, loneliness, longing—before her cool mask settled back into place.

Silence fell once more, thick and soupy.

“We do not like forks,” Luna said abruptly.

“Wh—?”

“Why can ponies not simply use knife and spoon to consume their meals?” she continued agitatedly, her eyes alight with frustration. “Forks are strange and fickle and serve only to remind Us of what We have missed.” Her gaze softened to something quieter, sadder. “Of all that We have missed,” she admitted softly.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Lemon Hearts said, and she meant it. Raw pain like that… and the Princess had so much of it, if the slip in her mask was anything to go by.

“A gift of candor for thine own, nothing more,” Luna said, waving her hoof again, this time to brush away the thanks. “‘Tis shameful enough for thy better to display such emotion to thee. Think not upon it, and thank Us not at all.”

Princess Luna stood, her chair scraping the flagstone. “We shall take Our leave now. An evening fair as this deserves not to be squandered.”

“Of course, Your Highness. Good night.” She stood, bowed, and straightened to watch Luna leave, the Princess’s head held high and haughty once more.

____________________________

I opened my eyes to a dark sky speckled with stars, impossibly close and bright and numerous—too numerous to ever be visible in Canterlot.

“Princess Luna,” I said.

The dream was quiet, but pregnant with pause. Waiting, I realized. Like a cat waiting to pounce, or a rabbit itching to run.

“I know it was you,” I said to the sky. “I know you’ve been looking in on my dreams.”

The silence shifted, not quite nervous. Ready to leave, I decided. Waiting to be rejected.

“Thank you,” I said instead.

The stars smiled down on me and I breathed in deep, the scents of jasmine and lilies and lavender overrunning my senses.

____________________________

“Congratulations,” Princess Celestia said, stepping back and offering Lemon Hearts a genuine smile, so radiant in the early morning light. “I look forward to our many years to come, Lemon Hearts.”

Lemon Hearts held a careful hoof to the badge pinned to her chest. Celestia chuckled.

“How does it feel?” she asked.

“Not quite real yet,” Lemon Hearts admitted. She didn’t say that she was disappointed to not have Luna present for the official title hand-off—they hadn’t spoken or seen one another since the end of Luna’s etiquette lessons a few weeks ago, and they were both busy mares, after all.

“It is unfortunate that Luna could not attend,” Celestia consoled, her smile gentling, and Lemon Hearts knew something must have shown on her face again. “Eleven in the morning is quite late for her, I fear. Still, I know that she is likewise looking forward to our many years of working together.” Her eyes crinkled. “And I am sure she is as proud of you as I am.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

“Take the day to rest,” she said, already sitting back down at her desk. “You have more than earned a break. Your housekeeping duties can wait a day to start in earnest.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

The walk back to her room was the same length as always, but seemed different, somehow. The same old, historied walls, made anew, cast in a new light.

She would be the one to care for those walls from now on.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost tripped on the small box outside her room. Lemon Hearts stumbled to a stop, grabbing it in her magic. It was a little plain thing, a simple string for a bow with no other fanfare. She tugged it open and floated out the small object inside.

It was… a keychain? The same color as her badge, and filigreed to match, with several chains trailing from the ornate centerpiece, an elegant ring at the end of each one. A note fluttered out, and she caught it with her hoof.

For the keeper of keys—

A chatelaine for the Chatelaine.

-L

Author's Note

Thanks for reading.

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