Princess Cadance double-checked that no one was watching her as she slipped through the inconspicuous door in the hallway. No one could know about the room behind it, and the terrible secret it held. She took a deep breath as her eyes adjusted to the dark. She stepped forward slowly and cautiously, not daring to make a sound. She didn't illuminate her horn as she walked, only allowing instinct to guide her; any chance someone would hear her was a chance too many.
Her body tensed as she got to the small counter, dimly lit by a single magic candle. She nestled her face in the arcane flame, taking in its warmth; the magical fire wasn't hot, of course, kept alight only by a small trickle of magic from a piece of crystal next to it. It felt good; it was a warmth Cadance had cherished for a long time. A faint, warm light in darkness.
Cadance carefully turned on a gas burner, closing her eyes as she guided herself via sound. The gentle huff of the burner catching light, the soft thunk of metal being loosened from metal, the gentle sound of pouring water, then the soft thunk of metal being set down.
Then, waiting. Silence.
Cadance carefully cut a small piece of fat from a stick on the counter, and set the piece into the now-warming pot of water. Her breaths were slow and even, but her heart raced.
She closed her eyes again. The tiny whistle of the gas burner filled her ears. She shivered… It was close. Almost time. Once again, sound was her guide. The gentle sound of burlap being pushed aside, then the soft sound of scooping grains. Cadance took a moment to relish the smooth feeling of a grainy texture brushing past her hoof, before she returned from the sack with a full scoop.
She halted her motions and waited… She had been a bit too quick, and now she had to briefly halt her ritual.
That was until she heard gentle bubbling. The pot was now boiling. Her eyes shot open, pupils contracting to pinpricks despite the darkness of the room.
She emptied the scoop into the pot and tightly clamped the lid down.
She took a deep breath out; the first exhale she had loosed since she had first filled the scoop. "Now you must wait, Cadance… It will beckon to you soon enough," She murmured as she turned the heat of the burner down as low as it would go.
She began counting the seconds down in her head, keeping a clockwork rhythm in her mind. "1200… 1199… 1198… 1197…" She murmured softly, eyes closing again.
Twenty minutes. Twenty long, arduous minutes, of sitting in the dark, with only the soft sound and smells to appease her mind's inherent need for stimulation. Cadance counted down softly to pass the time.
Only one of her most trusted handmaidens knew of this room, and thus, the Princess' secret. It would be passed on to only one servant per generation; a solitary soul, being in charge of keeping this room in suitable condition. They had to be a unicorn, and were sworn to a vow of nondisclosure. She had never told the sworn maiden what punishment awaited them should they speak it to the outside… The conviction in Cadance's normally soft and kind tone ensured their imagination did the work.
Only ten minutes remained. Ten minutes of the soft whistle, the gentle bubbling, the heat radiating from the stove.
Cadance's mouth began to water. She felt the creeping cold of the crystal floor sinking into her haunches as she sat. She didn't dare move. This was too important. This ritual she participated in once a month was too critical to the health of her rule.
Her breaths became shaky. Temptation called her. The temptation to end the ritual early. The temptation to break tradition.
She bit her tongue hard, disciplining herself. This was too critical.
"...489… 488… 487…" She counted in her dull murmur of a tone.
Her ear twitched at the soft noise of the lid briefly being pushed aside by a whiff of gas. She pressed her hoof on the handle. It was hot, and hurt her hoof to the touch. Cadance bit her lip and kept counting. Once again, the importance of this ritual was far too great to ignore. If she had to suffer to ensure it was successful, then so be it.
The heat of the pot's lid radiated through her leg. It was comforting, in an odd way, despite how it seared at the site of the contact.
Just three more minutes. Three more minutes until Cadance could finally indulge in her body's need to move. Three more minutes until Cadance could open her eyes and succumb to her needs to move and experience.
Cadance felt a chilly draft blow across her spine. "No, not yet," She thought to herself as she continued to count, "I must be strong… It must be perfect."
Cadance's eyes slowly opened as she got to single digits.
"...10… 9… 8… 7… 6…" She began to grin, reaching for the large piece of cutlery on the counter, "...5… 4… 3… 2… 1," She finished.
She ripped the lid from the pot and slammed it hard on the counter. With her other hoof, she plunged the utensil into the pot, stirring viciously, as if attempting to give a labotomy to whatever lied inside. Her pupils dilated. Finally, it was done.
…
Shining Armor looked around perplexedly. It was almost dinner time, and yet his wife was nowhere to be found. He looked around for any sign of his beloved, asking around. None of the servants knew where she was. None of them even had a clue.
So he did what he always did when he needed to think: He began prowling a quiet corridor of the castle. The silence allowed him to hear every thought that raced through his mind.
He looked down one of the corridors; not a single guard was posted. This was unusual; all the hallways had at least a pair of guards on each end, but this one lacked any such surveillance.
He walked down the hall and closed his eyes. "Why is there no one over here…?" He murmured, looking around. Come to think of it, the hallway was particularly empty, as if it had gone unnoticed by everything else.
Then, he saw it. A single, small door.
Shining felt a foreboding aura grip his hoof as he reached for the handle. He shuddered. Surely, his wife hadn't run off somewhere as imposing as this?
He shook his head. He had to check.
He opened the door, staring down the pitch black hallway.
He carefully illuminated his horn, allowing the door to softly close behind him as he stepped forward. Thoughts raced through his mind. The hallway went surprisingly long.
Then he heard sounds. The scraping of metal. Contented giggling. Then… Chewing. Loud chewing; the chewing of a predator, relishing the hunt.
"H-Hello…?" He called softly, "Is everything alright?"
The sounds stopped at once, replaced by a harsh gasp, and the sound of metal being dropped on the floor.
Shining, with great trepidation, pressed onward, horn glowing brighter.
He caught the end of a small room; a counter, with a burlap sack slumped next to it, and a single small gas burner on the side.
"What in the…?" He murmured.
He yelped as he was suddenly tackled to the floor.
His horn illuminated brightly to stun his attacker.
Cadance shielded her eyes. "Sh-Shining!?" She exclaimed in a sharp whisper.
Shining Armor's horn returned to its normal brightness. He stared up at Cadance. Her face was smeared with some stick, starchy-looking fluid.
Shining shivered at the fierce, predatory gaze his wife gave him. "H-Honey… What is all this?" Shining stammered.
Cadance's gaze softened, and she sighed a bit, "You're not supposed to be here," She hissed softly.
Shining carefully stood up. "Why, what is this place?" He asked.
He noticed a pot behind his wife, settled on the floor. The lid was haphazardly placed over it, with handle of a piece of silverware sticking out. "...What is that?" He asked, pushing past her.
Cadance shivered, "N-nothing," She stammered, "You should leave."
Shining shook his head, "It's obviously important if you're hiding it…" He murmured.
Cadance tried to stop him, but Shining's horn illuminated as he ripped the pot's lid off. He sat in shock.
The pot contained a half-eaten portion of plain, white rice.
Cadance clapped her hooves over his eyes, "Don't lay your eyes upon it!" She pleaded.
Shining pulled his wife's hooves away from his face.
"What is this?" Shining asked.
He magicked the spoon to his mouth and took a nibble of the buttery grain. It didn't taste like anything, really; just a neutral, somewhat starchy taste, with the lightest bit of butter and salt. It wasn't displeasant, and it hardly seemed worthy of secrecy.
Cadance shivered. "Rice," She admitted in a sharp huff of a tone, "Plain, white rice: Commoner food," She snorted.
Shining blinked, "...Why do you need to hide plain, white rice?" He asked.
"Because we are royalty; Shining!" Cadance huffed, nearly screaming at him, "It always has to be something fancy; dressed up in garlic, or done as part of a special porridge… I just wanted plain, white rice."
Shining's ears flattened. "...And you thought I wouldn't accept your love of plain, white rice?" He asked.
Cadance's lip quivered as she nodded.
Shining gently pulled his wife into a hug, "Honey… I love you. I don't care how you like your rice," He expressed, nuzzling her gently.
Cadance sighed a little. "You… You don't?" She asked softly.
Shining nodded, "Of course I don't. It's not like you're eating from the trash or something," He said gently.
He blinked as he felt his wife tense up.
"...Honey?" He questioned.
