Princesses Don't Potty

by CDRW

Chapter 10 (She Has to Pee)

The hour was five o’clock, and all was unwell.

Princess Celestia, immortal alicorn, former wielder of the Elements of Harmony, Diarch of Equestria, and all-around very smart pony, was sitting on her bathroom floor, staring at the toilet while she tried to talk her bladder into submission.

It was not going well.

The darn thing just wouldn’t listen to anything she said! Not only that, it was firing back with some surprisingly salient points of its own. She didn’t know that Luna had done anything to the toilet, and Twilight probably hadn’t had the chance to sneak in either.

Try as she might, Celestia couldn’t come up with an adequate response to that argument. All she had was a gut feeling, experience which said that Luna was evil that way, and the firm conviction that it was never wise to underestimate Twilight on a research bender.

She cast a sidelong glance at her shower. I guess I could always go in there. I already used it so I know Luna didn’t do anything to it.

Of course, that still left Twilight. Celestia knew her student, and she knew that she was thorough. Twilight Sparkle was the sort of pony who would cast a spell to log anything that fell into the toilet bowl, determine its precise composition, track exactly when the toilet was flushed, and throw in a backup copy of each enchantment on the pipes that the toilet fed into. Then she would layer so many anti-detection spells on top that nobody would notice the auras even if the spells were being powered by the freaking Elements of Harmony. The shower was so ludicrously obvious that it would be both insulting and asinine to assume Twilight was going to overlook it.

Besides, she was a princess and peeing in the shower was gross.

Celestia eyed the gleaming porcelain bowl and shifted uncomfortably. She had lived a long and full life, and over time she had learned that the saying “you learn something new everyday” was still as true for her as it was for any newborn foal. For example, she’d learned that even her kitchen staff didn’t know where Luna was (or else they were taking bribes), she’d learned that the griffon ambassador had a thing for zebra mares in leather, and most importantly of all, she’d learned that marble tiles were cold enough to numb your backside if you sat on them for too long.

It was in the middle of such philosophical ponderings that a burst of green flame flew into the room and deposited a scroll right in front of her.

Celestia knew what it was. She didn’t have to read it. After countless centuries on the throne she’d developed a sixth sense for these things. Nevertheless, she unfurled the scroll and read it anyway.

Dear Princess Celestia,

Today I learned that trials and tribulations can bring out the most unexpected qualities in your friends. When needed, the random and silly can sometimes offer up words of wisdom, and the brash and bold can bring much needed self-control and responsibility to the table. I also learned once again that true friends stand by each other no matter what.

Sincerely,

Twilight Sparkle

PS: I’m going to be coming to Canterlot soon for a research project. I was hoping that I could stop by for tea while I’m there, if you have the time of course.

Celestia bit her lip. This was it. Twilight may or may not have performed covert operations in the bathroom yet, but as of this moment, it had begun. The instant the princess left this room, it was officially… Officially… Locus non grata? Cubiculum non grata?

Heavens, am I really that out of practice?

Language aside, this was her last chance. No matter how she answered Twilight’s letter—and she truly had no idea how she would—there was no stopping or turning back. The battle had begun. Celestia cast a forlorn look at the toilet and then the shower while her bladder made one last plea for mercy.

Discretion was the better part of valor though, and thus it was with a deep sigh of regret that she stood up and left. She needed to set the sun soon anyway, and since Luna was playing hooky she’d probably have to raise the moon as well.

For all her discomfort there was still at least one consolation, a silver lining of sorts, if a very small one. She could lower the sun from her bedroom balcony.

Princess Celestia really didn’t want to have to deal with her guards studiously averting their eyes from the checkerboard pattern that the floor tiles had left on her butt.

For some reason, Fluttershy hadn’t been able to shake Luna’s comments out of her head all day. They’d stuck with her while she gave Harry the bear a bath, practiced with the bird choir, went grocery shopping, and while she helped the veterinarian perform an emergency craniotomy on a rattlesnake suffering from an intracranial hematoma.

She’d held the surgical tools. And the towel.

Specialization is for insects!

On the one hoof, it was a bit racist to say things like that. Changelings probably had to learn all sorts of stuff in order to replace someone and drain their lover of emotion until they were an empty shell of a pony without getting caught. It wasn’t like they could just not show up to work after taking over somepony’s life.

A pony is more than just her cutie mark though, more than a specialist who only has one thing to offer to the world. If your special talent doesn't lend itself easily to one job then that is all the better, for it motivates you to do more with yourself than you would have otherwise.

On the other hoof, she’d never thought anypony, let alone princess Luna, would look at her career and praise it. Why on earth would anypony think the mare who did the occasional odd job around town was worthwhile? Well, aside from her friends, but that wasn’t really because of work anyway.

The idea alone left Fluttershy feeling a bit overwhelmed, but it also felt… nice. She really had done quite a lot of different jobs over the years. Most of them were animal related, but there was still the stuff she helped Rarity with. Maybe she could learn something else too.

She should probably start small though, learn something that she was already a little bit familiar with. That was why she found herself on Rarity’s doorstep just as the sun was touching the horizon, ready to ask if she could maybe learn how to work with some gems if it wasn't too much trouble.

Fluttershy raised her hoof and knocked one tiny little knock, and then the door was flung open and she found herself face-to-face with a rabid Rarity.

“Where is she!”

Fluttershy probably would have said “I don’t know,” or asked “Who is ‘she’?”, but she was too busy having a heart-attack.

“When I get my hooves on her I’m going to wring her… Oh, hello Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy would have said “Hello,” but she was still too busy having a heart-attack.

“Oh dear, I scared you didn’t I? I’m terribly sorry about that, I haven’t been in the, erm… most coherent of moods today, and when I heard a knock on the door… I’m so sorry. Come in, I’ll make you some tea. Celestia knows I could use it myself.”

With an apologetic look, Rarity ushered a flustered Fluttershy into the boutique and closed the door with a tense sort of cautiousness, almost as if she thought she was going to break it if she weren’t careful.

The interior of the boutique was an absolute mess. Fluttershy knew that Rarity sometimes let her fastidious cleanliness slip when inspiration or a deadline struck—one was often as good as the other as far as the fashionista went—but this was something altogether new. The floor was strewn with bolts of fabric, the ponnequinns layered with half-finished outfits, and every available nook, cranny, and trashbin piled high with scraps, rags, and shredded dresses.

The thing that struck Fluttershy most was how the scraps in the trashbins were every color under the sun, but nearly every other piece of fabric in the room was pink. There was hot pink, lavender pink, magenta, rose pink, ultra pink, fuschia, and several other shades that she didn’t recognize. It was all a bit overwhelming, to be honest.

“I am so sorry about the mess.” Rarity said absently as the two of them picked their way through the boutique. “I’m in the middle of re-doing my fall line, and my winter line, and my spring line, and every line, and I just haven’t had the time to tidy up. Fashion is fickle, and it seems that the fates have decided everything I make from now on must be pink.”

“Oh,” Fluttershy said, not sure what else she could do. “Um. I’m sorry.”

Rarity’s response was worryingly upbeat.

“Oh, not to worry dear. It’s not your fault.” She levitated a newspaper that had been lying on an endtable to hover in front of Fluttershy’s face. “See?”

The front page headline read “Eternal Pink: It’s All Luna’s Fault!”

“That’s, um…” Fluttershy searched for a word, any word. “...nice?”

It was a bad word.

Rarity halted in the kitchen doorway. She didn’t move, didn’t turn to look back at Fluttershy. The only indication that she hadn’t suddenly turned into a statue was a little flick of her ear; one, two, three times.

Ten excruciating seconds later, Rarity continued on, speaking with that same strangely upbeat tone. “Yes, it is nice to keep up with the news. It is nice to know that princess Celestia, the immortal, unchanging ruler of Equestria suddenly decided to re-do her mane and coat into a style and color that only fits with two seasons. It is nice to know that princess Luna is the one who did the deed. It would be even nicer if I knew why either princess decided that it was… nice to make the change, and it would certainly be nice to know where princess Luna had run off to so that I could let her know how exceedingly nice I’m feeling.”

“Oh,” Fluttershy said while privately wondering if she should ask Luna to hide somewhere else. Celestia was scary enough, Rarity was… yeah. “You sound upset.”

Rarity looked over her shoulder and gave Fluttershy a pleasant, if somewhat too wide smile. “I am cheerfully contemplating regicide. Which regent, I’m not even sure. Celestia, Luna, it’s all the same, really. Maybe even Cadance! I always thought she was just a tad too pink anyway. So garish, and it’s difficult to find anything that matches.”

Fluttershy frowned at that. “I know you’re upset, but you still shouldn't say those kinds of things.”

And just like that, Rarity’s expression crumpled. The smile slipped away, leaving her looking like she was on the verge of breaking down into tears. She let her head droop low and said “Yeah,” then continued into the kitchen.

That, more than anything else that had happened tonight left Fluttershy scared. Rarity wasn’t a subdued pony. When she was upset, she ranted, she raved, she sobbed inconsolably.

Now that she was looking, Fluttershy could see all the little signs she’d missed before, how Rarity’s ears never stood straight up, her posture wasn’t as courtly as usual, and her mane and tail weren’t quite perfect. Rarity was exhausted.

She didn’t look it, didn’t even really act it as she busied herself pulling out the teapot, boiling the water, and preparing the cups, but it was still there.

At Rarity’s bidding, Fluttershy took a seat. She felt bad about leaving her friend to make the tea without even protesting, but it was probably for the best this way. Rarity could be every bit as stubborn and prideful as Applejack or Rainbow Dash, and sensitive as herself and Twilight. When Rarity was stressed, she made it a point to be extra generous, and Fluttershy had a hunch that refusing would just make things worse. If anything, the simple act of catering to a guest would probably help her more than anything else.

“Would you like any sugar in your tea, dear?” Rarity asked as she placed saucers, tea, and some little cookies to go with on the table.

“Oh, yes please. Thank you.” There was a moment’s silence as they both sipped the hot drinks, and then Fluttershy asked the question she'd been wondering about since she came inside. “How long have you been working?”

Rarity tapped her chin as she stared off into space. “Since I saw the paper this morning. That must have been around seven or eight. It’s what, quarter to six? So… nearly eleven hours now? Goodness, has it been that long? I don’t even have a single outfit done yet… I suppose I won’t be getting much sleep tonight.”

“That’s… not very healthy,” Fluttershy ventured.

Rarity shook her head wearily, not even bothering to try and hide it anymore.

“Perhaps not, but I must persevere anyhow. The life of a fashionista is a difficult one, and I woke up this morning to find out that everything I have in stock had been rendered obsolete overnight. Quite literally. I have to redesign everything, and fast, or else I stand to lose a lot in terms of customers and opportunity.”

She frowned into her teacup. “That is not going as well as I would like.”

Fluttershy glanced back at the doorway to Rarity’s messy design area.

“But," Rarity slumped down in her chair. "That shouldn’t matter. I’m better than this. I know it is a little pathetic to get upset about something as small as the princess changing her style, but this is my job. It is my special talent and my passion.”

The next words were so small that Fluttershy could almost believe they came from herself.

“And now I have nothing to work with.”

“I don’t think that at all,” Fluttershy said as emphatically as she knew how. “You want to follow your special talent and that’s wonderful.”

Rarity gave her a small, wavery, but real smile. “Thank you dear.”

Fluttershy ducked her head and blushed. “You’re welcome… but, um…”

There was a tiny clink of ceramic as Rarity set her teacup down on her saucer and looked at her quizzically. “But what?”

“Well, what about Princess Luna?”

“I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at, Fluttershy.”

“Does everything you make have to be… inspired by princess Celestia? I guess Luna isn’t as popular as her because it’s always night time when she comes out, and because she was really scary when she came back to Equestria, but she’s doing a lot better since Nightmare Night. Does everything you make have to be pink just because Celestia is?”

Rarity sighed. “I wish it were as simple as a popularity contest. Normally I would be thrilled to base an outfit or three off of Luna, being different will get you a long way in fashion. But… How do I say this? Right now, as far as everyone is concerned, pink has been endorsed by both princesses. Celestia is pink, and Luna chose pink. Unless something drastic happens, the entire fashion industry is going to lock onto that color and only that color for a long, long time. The only ponies who choose anything else will be the far end of the counterculture crowd, and perhaps it's rude to say, but that sort of thing has never been my style.

“So yes, everything I make has to be pink, and therein lies my problem. It turns out that pink, pink, and only pink is a rather limiting palette, and I am finding myself quite uninspired. I can’t even incorporate other colors, because very little beyond white and black actually works as a suitable accent for pink."

Rarity pursed her lips as a thoughtful expression stole over her face. “Although, now that I think about it, yellow could work. Celestia’s cutie-mark is yellow  and… Perhaps blue as well if I’m careful, for Luna. I already know it can work. That crystal heart does wonders for Cadance’s rump. I think I could do a pink princess line with this. Hmm... It's not the best idea I’ve ever had, but I think I have a place to start now.”

There was a sudden flurry of movement as Rarity cleared off the table and began ushering Fluttershy towards the door.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I’ll have to cut our little chat short. Inspiration is a limited resource these days, and I must strike while the iron is hot, so to speak. Thank you though, you have no idea how much you have helped me tonight.”

“But—” Fluttershy’s weak protest was cut off when a bolt of fabric nearly clobbered her upside the head as it whizzed towards one of the ponnequins. An instant later, the whole boutique was a whirlwind of cloth, tape measures, scissors, and needles. Then, before she knew it, she was outside, reeling as the door shut behind her.

Fluttershy stood there on the doorstep for a long time, trying to figure out what had just happened. Then she stood there for another long time as she tried to figure out what to do about it. After a little while, she finally came to a conclusion. She still didn’t know exactly what she should do, but one thing was clear. She and Luna needed to have a talk.

Celestia couldn’t sleep. The night was young and she had only just climbed into bed, but she already knew beyond a doubt that sleep was not for her.

She had to pee.

She wouldn’t sleep. If she slept, her body would take over.

And if she wet the bed… Bad things would happen, and then she would feel bad.

It was all such a simple problem too. Knowingly or not, Twilight had challenged Celestia to a battle of wits. She wanted to know if Celestia had to pee—feathery flying horseapples she had to pee so bad—and Celestia wanted to make sure Twilight never ever, ever got her answer. Two mares, one crazy and curious, the other neither.

All Celestia had to do was convince Twilight that she didn’t pee, and then she could pee. As simple as that. Prove, beyond any doubt, to the most intelligently obsessive mare in Equestria no less, that she had never and would never perform the single most essential biological function there was.

By Tirek’s horseshoes, she'd give up breathing it meant she could safely empty her bladder.

My kingdom for a throne.

Celestia cast her blanket aside and rose from her bed. If she wasn’t going to sleep, she could at least still make herself useful. With a few quick steps, she crossed the room and seated herself at a heavy desk set against the wall.

It was a fine desk, plain, technically an antique, and hoofcrafted by none other than herself during her hobbyist carpenter days. Wasting no time, Celestia opened the top drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper, a quill, a bottle of ink, and some blotting paper.

There was one option available to her. In truth, it had struck her as soon as she’d read Twilight’s letter, but she cast it aside because she preferred not being reckless and stupid. That was more Luna’s thing. It was a horrible option anyway, a risk that she couldn’t afford to take, but—in the absence of anything better coming to light—one that she was beginning to think she needed to take anyway.

All this maneuvering and plotting and spying, it was really just like politics in the end anyway. Celestia knew politics. It was a game she was intimately familiar with. Above all else, she needed to be bold, decisive, and unexpected. She needed to throw Twilight off her plan…

No, she needed to beat Twilight’s plan, and that was what had her scared. This wasn’t going to be as easy as dealing with the griffon ambassador. Twilight was really good at planning.

If she was going to win this, she needed to make Twilight think that the plan had gone off without a hitch. And try as she might to think of something else, the only way that sprung to mind was to walk right into the trap.

She needed to invite Twilight over for tea.

After a moment’s thought, she put pen to paper and began to write.

Dear Twilight,

It makes me more than glad to hear from you, and to know that your friendships are still growing. I am also heartened to know that you have avoided the trap that so many other ponies fall into, the belief that once you have learned a lesson about friendship, there is no point in learning it again somewhere down the road.

Tea sounds lovely as well. I had not heard that you were starting on a new research project, and I’d very much like to know more about it. It has been far too long since we have been able to have a casual chat anyway, and I confess I’ve missed your company. Can you come by tomorrow afternoon? I have an hour free starting at two o’clock…

A few minutes later, Celestia signed her letter with a flourish, blotted away the excess ink, read it once over, rolled it up, stamped it with her seal, and then sent it to Spike via magical flame. When that was done, she pulled out another sheet of paper and began drafting up a checklist.

Celestia allowed herself a thin smile as the skritch skritch of her pen and the quiet rustle of paper sang out into the silent bedroom. Twilight wasn’t the only mare in the world who was good at planning, and while she might have set the rules for the game and made the first move, Celestia owned the arena.

I accept your challenge, my faithful student.

Pinkie Pie stopped what she was doing, which caused some consternation because what she was doing was helping Mr. Cake carry a new oven into the bakery.

“What is it, Pinkie?” he asked.

“The doozy just happened.”

The stallion turned pale and nearly dropped his end of the appliance as began to hyperventilate. “A doozy? What doozy? What is it? What happened?”

Pinkie Pie frowned.

“I don’t know.”