The Mayonnaise of Justice
One of the defining traits of a great ruler is quick thinking. Allow me a moment to congratulate myself; thinking quickly while also losing your breakfast is no small feat, I assure you. I couldn't stop my stomach from emptying its contents, but I could choose where my breakfast ended up.
Teleportation is one of the most difficult and dangerous spells a pony can perform. The way Twilight does it makes it look easy, but it isn't, not by a long shot. A great reserve of magic is required, along with a focused mind. The destination is the most important part; picturing it clearly so you don’t end up off-target makes the teleport work. Teleporting a short distance to a place you can actually see is the safest way to work the magic. With a rapid glance around the room, I realized no such safe place existed.
BLURP!
No time left— I need to teleport, and I need to do it now. Applejack’s overwide grin faltered. She gave me a funny look, something between ‘do you like it?’ and ‘what’s wrong?’ This resulted in an odd combination of a wry smile, one ear up, and a tilted head. To his credit, Fancypants seemed to figure it out at the last second. His eyes went wide and he brought a hoof up to cover his mouth. I summoned the magic to teleport, and pictured the first familiar place I could think of. I didn't exactly plan it—my mental picture simply arrived on instinct.
FUMP!
The sound of displaced air blasted into my ears, and the temperature rose a fraction of a degree. I had my eyes closed, screwed tight with concentration, trying to keep myself from teleporting into a wall, or worse. They say one’s home is one’s castle, but what’s your castle when you actually live in a castle? Your room, of course. The rug in my room costs roughly what Applejack earns in a year. The cleaning bill would be astronomical, but what else could I do except—
BLARCH!
Yuck. Well, there goes breakfast. There’s a brief moment of nausea when teleporting; combined with the smell and taste of apples, I had no hope of holding it in, even for a second. I hoped to hit the carpet, but when I opened my eyes, I looked at my bed. Double yuck. My bed moved! “Wh-what? Urk!” My stomach did another backflip when I smelled the results of my breakfast plus one apple.
“Puh,” said my bed. Or rather, the pony-shaped form lying on it. I blinked a watery set of eyes as my legs quivered with sudden weakness. My throat burned with caustic pain. I tried to focus, but throwing up really takes it out of you. “Wh-what? WHAT? DISGUSTING!” Luna’s voice issued from beneath my bed sheets, covered in—well, you know…
She spat out a mouthful of YUCK! I idly noticed her hoof sitting next to an open box of Bon-Bons (the Prench chocolates, not the pony). Those would be my chocolates, given to me by the Prench ambassador last week as a parting gift. The chocolates were half-covered in my breakfast, ruined. Luna spat out a chocolate and… I think a chunk grapefruit. “L-Luna? Ohhh… my stomach,” I groaned. I put a hoof to my belly and sank to my haunches; it just took far too much energy to stand.
“GYAHHH!” Luna hollered, as she leapt out of my bed and galloped for the washroom. I heard the water blast on, and Luna retching several times. I heard the harsh hiss of a toothbrush— probably mine— scraping a royal tongue. “It burns like the sun!” I heard her whine.
I sat, dazed, on the posh rug. I wiped my mouth with a hoof and groaned again. I tried, and failed, to stand. I rose to my hooves on the second attempt, and wobbled to the washroom. Luna hadn't bothered to close the door; it hung ajar, muffling her anguished cries. I opened the door by walking into it with my head, only to find Luna glaring at me in the mirror set above the sink. I didn't even bother with courtesy; I sidled up beside her, put my head under the shiny spigot, and rinsed my entire head with clear water.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Luna cried. It took several moments of rinsing, especially my mouth, before I withdrew my head from the sink. I glanced at her when my legs trembled again. I stuck my mouth under the spigot again and drank greedily. Oh sweet water, nothing tastes so good when one is thirsty, and I had just lost all of my body’s spare water. “Sister? CELESTIA!” Luna switched to the royal Canterlot voice.
I groaned softly and stood upright. Shaking like a dog, I dried my mane into a semblance of its ethereal normalcy. Some ponies look beautiful and sexy with a wet mane. I look like an overgrown, albino, drowning rat with a grungy, grayish mane after the colors have all bled together. I almost forgot… Royal Canterlot voice… right. I sighed, composed myself, and asked, “Yes, sister?” in the most innocent voice I could muster.
Cold fury burned in her eyes as she regarded me. Speaking with a quiet, restrained rage, she asked, “Why did you feel it necessary to vomit INTO MY MOUTH?!” Royal Canterlot voice again. If the guards didn't hear it the first time, they certainly did the second time. That gave me about fifteen seconds, at best, before—
SLAM!
“Princess Celestia? Princess Luna? Where are you?” an overbearing voice barked. While Proper Attire held my favor, this particular guard did not. I don’t want to give the impression that he didn't do his job; no, the problems occurred because he did his job a little too well. Royal Unicorn Guard Vigilance is the type of pony that when given an order to ‘protect the Princess,’ would effectively prevent said protectee from doing anything dangerous. Like flying, or galloping, or trotting, or getting too close to another pony, or eating, or drinking dangerous fluids such as water. I swear, he’d prevent me from breathing if he thought I might inhale too much dust. I believe Luna mistook my angry scowl as being directed at her when Vigilance burst into the royal bedchamber.
“We’re in here, Vigilance,” I croaked. I must have sounded even worse than I felt, because Vigilance bucked the door open (it was unlocked), tumbled into the room in order to dodge any projectiles (in a bathroom?), and stood between Luna and myself, eyes darting every which way, searching (for what?). I honestly don’t know what goes through this pony’s head on the best of days; I wanted this day over with as soon as possible.
“Guardsponies! They’re in here! Clear!” he yelled to the stomps of enough hooves and voices that there must have been a full regiment outside my bedchamber.
Luna stood on the other side of Vigilance, smoldering. With fluids in my system, my mind kicked back into Princess mode. Before any more guards arrived to complicate matters, I commanded, “Leave us be. I shall return to the audience chamber in a moment.” I gave Luna a tight smile; this would be a delicate operation. Vigilance nodded, bowed low, and back-stepped out. I followed behind him and gestured for Luna to follow. Vigilance let out a disgusted snort when he glanced at the bed, but said nothing as he trotted out. The door closed softly, muffling the murmuring voices on the other side. Luna walked into the bedchamber like a thunderhead and opened her mouth to say something, but her last step put her silver shod hoof into a puddle of—
“GROSS!” she shouted, thankfully not amplified by magic. The mess on the bed dripped into a puddle on the floor. The maids would require overtime. I made a mental note to give them tomorrow off. “What is the meaning of this—“
“Celestia?” Applejack bucked the door open and bounded into the room. No mean feat, since the door is solid teak and inlaid with bronze. A dozen royal guards stood on the other side of the threshold, their eyes wide, searching the scene inside for answers. “Everythang okay? Ya up n’ left in a hurry, an’ ya looked a little… SICK!” she exclaimed when her eyes fell on the royal bed. “Uh, yer bed’s a mess,” she said simply. Usually when a pony says ‘your bed is a mess,’ they mean ‘the sheets on your bed are rumpled’ or ‘your bed isn’t made.’ Leave it to the Element of Honesty to say exactly what she means.
With a flash of my horn, the door slammed shut on the wide eyes of the guards. “Thank you for your concern, Applejack.” I tried to sound pleasant, but my throat still felt raw. Luna made a disgusted face with her tongue out, then with a deft flick of her hoof, sent her shoe to clatter against the wall. It left another vile stain on the marble, but I didn't care at the moment. “As you can see, I am not having the best day today. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow and we can discuss business further.”
Applejack looked at the bed with her eyes squinting and her nose crinkled. “Did you jus’ upchuck?” she asked, looking directly at me.
“Well…”
“Yes, she did, the vile creature!” Luna offered. I sighed, while Luna continued, “This is inexcusable, Celestia. You have an iron stomach!” She turned to Applejack and thundered, “She didn't even lose her dinner when the gryphon ambassador had roasted rodents served for supper! She even politely ate a bite, and then forced US to eat a bite as well! Disgusting!” She glared at me again, took two threatening strides so our eyes were inches apart and growled, “You had better have a good excuse, or we’re about to enter the second war of the sun and moon!”
I swallowed, and that tight smile grew into a hideous parody; I prayed that it didn't look like a smirk. “Luna, this is technically your fault.”
“EXCUSE ME?!” the royal Canterlot voice shouted right in my face, blowing my mane and tail back. “WHAT DID YOU DO? EAT AN APPLE?” My heart did a backflip; she had said that loud enough for the entire castle to hear. My… condition’s secrecy protects Luna’s pride, not my own. I drew in a breath to sigh, because the story would have come out.
GLURK!
My nose filled with the scent of apples; and right on cue my stomach filled with squirming worms. Applejack had placed herself between the two of us. Of course she had, it’s a primary function of the Elements to mend relations, this one in particular. I took two swift steps back and clamped both forehooves over my nose. “Now hang on a gosh darn minute. Are ya tellin’ me mah apple made Princess Celestia do THAT?” Applejack asked while pointing at the mess on the bed.
The anger left Luna’s face like a light bulb breaking a filament. “Y-you fed my sister an apple?” she asked. Applejack nodded with question marks written all over her face. “Oh… Oh my… it IS my fault.” Luna’s ears dropped and she sat on her haunches with a dull thud. Luckily, she missed the puddle of… breakfast.
Applejack made that disgusted face again, and then looked at me askance. “Princess? Do… do ya hate my apples?” she asked, on the verge of tears.
What could I say? No, seriously, what could I say without breathing in? The miasma in the room threatened to make me heave again.
“We… We shall admit to our mistake. For the sake of dear Applejack, who is blameless in this,” Luna said quietly. She looked so sad, her eyes downcast. I wanted to comfort her, but that would entail getting closer to Applejack at the moment. Not an option.
“Ah’m sure there’s a story behind this, an’ Ah can’t wait ta hear it, but… kin we git inta a room that don’t smell like Big Mac’s sweaty harness?” Applejack asked.
Luna glanced at me for only a second before her eyes fell again. “Honest Applejack, thou must take a shower in the washroom. Be sure to scrub mightily and use Celestia’s lavender bath soaps. Then, we shall tell thee a story the likes of which thou have never heard before.”
Applejack looked at me, and in that moment my stomach turned into a knot. Her mouth fell into a line and one brow popped up. Anger condensed around the brim of her hat like a cloud. After a long silence, she snorted and said, “Fine, but this better be good!”
Applejack settled into the short bench out on my balcony. The furniture out here rarely received use as usually only Luna or I use it. I stifled a giggle as Applejack settled into the dusty third seat. They were designed for large, royal flanks, making Applejack look comically small in it. Her hat rested on the small crystal table, next to three glasses of orange juice. Orange juice is my favorite; I don’t tell anypony that because I don’t want the nobles to play favorites just because I like or dislike something. They've figured out my preferences anyway, despite my best efforts. Just look at the financial situation of the closely related Apple and Orange families.
Applejack swallowed and asked, “Do you hate me, Princess?”
“Of course not,” I replied.
“Do you hate apples?”
I took a deep breath. I could smell the lavender that permeated the air around her. “Well… I… don’t like to eat apples.”
Applejack snorted again, and an edge came into her voice. “Ah thought by gittin' ya ta endorse Sweet Apple Acres Ah could make some sales. Ah saw how much better Rarity’s business did after Fancypants and that silly critic started likin’ her dresses. Ah thought, ‘Now what could be better than Princess Celestia sayin, “Ah love Sweet Apple Acre’s apples?”’ Them reporter ponies are gonna run with this story, ain't they?” she asked me. “Ah’m never gonna sell another apple,” she said with downcast eyes.
“That’s not true. I can…” What could I do? I couldn't very well eat an apple in public.
Luna stepped onto the balcony a moment later, closing the glass doors behind her with a flick of her magic. I could see the maids stripping the bed, but we couldn’t hear them, which meant they couldn't hear us. Luna sighed, laid down on the final bench, took a sip of orange juice, and began her story.
“This happened before I… became nightmare moon,” Luna started. I smiled at Luna as she spoke plainly about painful memories. This must have been hard for her. “Um, We are not sure if We remember everything correctly; it’s been so long. Will you help Us, sister?
I nodded and replied, “Of course I will.” I turned to Applejack and continued, “You see, long ago, Luna and I often played pranks on each other…”
“Is not!”
“Is too!”
“Is not!”
“Is too!”
“Is not!”
“Is too infinity times!”
Gasp!
Politically, it is unacceptable to resort to one’s most powerful weapons at the beginning of a tense conflict. I learned this early in life from my sister. Ending an argument with the mighty ‘infinity’ should be reserved for only the most grave of circumstances. Like, who gets the last cupcake, or which is better: sunrise or sunset?
It really shouldn't be used to decide which tastes better: mayonnaise or mustard.
“You only like mayonnaise because it’s the same color you are!” Luna whined. We were both equal in height at the time. Our growth and life spans are unusual. While we were in adult bodies, and had spent enough time alive to be adults if we were normal ponies, we were not normal. Our psychology at the time was more akin to a child’s. In case you’re wondering, yes—I did only “like” mayonnaise because it matched my coat. No sane pony would enjoy the taste of greasy goo.
“Do not!”
“Do too!”
“Do not!”
“Do too!”
“Do not infinity times!”
Double gasp!
I should have stopped after winning the first fight. Luna’s eyes misted before she darted out of the great hall, wailing. I blew a raspberry after her retreating form and looked around for something fun to do, instead of comforting my sister.
Did I mention how incredibly immature we were at the time?
The great hall gleamed with the noonday sun overhead. Light spilled through the skylight and danced around the walls like it was a festival. Great banners of every color hung high between the rafters, and thick books on every subject decorated the walls in between the plush tapestries. I felt particularly powerful and content, standing under the sun, winning two arguments in a row with my sibling. I pranced around the hall, acting like a princess. Or rather, how I believed a princess should act at the time. I ordered around imaginary servants, wore imaginary fine silks, and wore a less-than-imaginary tiara.
I’m still Princess Celestia, after all.
It was not long before I grew bored. I pranced to one of the bookcases and pulled a thick volume forward with my nascent magic. A dull click sounded from within the wall, and the bookcase slid outward. Ducking into the narrow, dark passageway, I made my way to the hidden hall where I suspected I would find Luna. Playing with another was always more fun than playing by myself; surely Luna had forgotten about our little tiff over mayonnaise and mustard by now, right?
I found Luna in her favorite place: a dark hallway with multiple stone forehooves extending out of the walls to hold torches, called the Hall of Hooves. She sat with her back to me, sobbing quietly. A light source flickered in front of her, but I couldn't see what little project she worked upon; I would find out soon enough. Knowing how much she loved a good prank, I reached out of the hole in the wall and tapped her on the shoulder, shouting, “BOO!”
She instantly leapt into the air, limbs going every which way. Landing in a heap, she turned to glare at the white foreleg dangling out of the wall. “Meanie!” she whined. “Here We art, trying our hoof at reconciliation, and thou go and frighten Us!”
I gasped when I withdrew my hoof and spied the things on the floor. Luna had three plates, two with sandwiches on them, and one with a small pie. I don’t mean a childish pie, like a mud pie. No, I mean a real pie, with a flaky crust and sliced apples, cinnamon, and sugar for the filling. The pie tin sat on a wide, flat stone, with a few glowing embers under it. The still-intact apple sitting next to it, and the heavenly aroma issuing from the baked good, made me realize exactly what sort of prize Luna had. You see, apples aren’t native to Equestria. They’re originally from a land far away and had to be imported. In those days, apples were a rare treat that we enjoyed infrequently. “The Grand Solar Princess wishes to partake of your humble pie, and would gladly reconcile with thee to do so,” I said, with what I thought to be royal flair.
Immature, yes, and with a pompous vocabulary to boot.
With a flick of the lever, the wall spun around, putting me in the hall with Luna. She flashed a grin for only a second before scowling at me again. Today, suspicion would have caused me to stop, but back then naivete allowed us to fool each other easily. “We contend that mayonnaise tastes worse than mustard, and we shall prove it,” Luna said with a gesture to the three arrayed plates. “Yonder there are two egg salad sandwiches; one with mustard only and one with mayonnaise only. Thou shall have the one with only disgusting mayonnaise, whilst We shall have only tasty mustard. The first princess to finish her sandwich receives the apple and pie as a prize.”
I nodded vigorously. Get pie, get apple, and win an argument? Oh, and reconcile with my sister? Count me in. I’m ashamed to admit that smoothing things over with Luna came in at the bottom of my list of priorities, but in my defense, there was pie! “On the count of three?” I asked. I could smell the pie still baking, the light of the embers washing everything in a dull, reddish glow.
“THREE!” Luna shouted and swiped her sandwich off of the plate. I fumbled with my own sandwich with my hooves, trying to get the first bite. Luna tore a huge chunk out of her egg and mustard sandwich and began to chew, eyeing another bite. Not to be outdone, I wolfed down a big bite as well, leaving a perfect, semicircular hole at the edge of the sandwich.
Mayonnaise glided down my throat. The eggs kept me from gagging, but let me tell you, an egg salad sandwich without mustard is… unpleasant. The freshly baked bread probably kept both of us from losing it right then and there. Luckily for me, Luna didn't seem to enjoy her sandwich either. After only the first bite, she slowed way down. Of course, everything proceeded according to her devious plan.
Tearing off more sandwich, we raced to the finish. Or the crust, as the case may be. I stuffed the last bit in my mouth and began to chew, watching with nervous eyes as Luna did the same. I don’t recall chewing; I think I sort of inhaled it. “I HAVE WON!” I shouted.
Luna’s eyes went wide. She tried to speak, but the sandwich kept her from talking for the few precious seconds. I had put my hoof into her trap, and now she tried to spring it. Chewing, swallowing, then flopping forward in defeat, Luna said, “Very well, thou hast won. At least allow Us the apple; We haven’t eaten one in ages.” She gave the best puppy dog eyes she could, and topped it off with a puppy-like whimper.
You have to understand, young siblings want nothing more than what the other sibling has or wants. It’s custom-designed to create fights, tears, and exasperated parents, but that’s how young children work. Psychologically a child, but intellectually an adult, Luna existed in the perfect position to exploit this phenomenon. Let my sister have the apple while the apple pie finished baking? Not I. “Fie I say to thee, nay! I won it fairly,” I said. I snatched the apple from the plate, still warm. It felt a bit odd in my hooves, a bit too soft, but I chalked it up to the apple being half-baked.
Luna cried, “But I desire it!” She reached for it, too slowly. Again, this should have been a clue. Instead, I smirked in triumph, and took the largest bite of apple I could. I expected to taste sweet, succulent apple flesh. Instead, I tasted what can only rightly be called justice.
The disgusting, greasy, gooey, white mayonnaise of justice.
It was my fault, after all. I teased her, I accepted her challenge with a bitter heart, and I didn't share. She must have spent considerable time and effort to replace the entire apple’s flesh with mayo, and then replace the skin so it looked intact. Sputtering, coughing, I pounded my hooves on the floor. I had swallowed the first and only bite, the rest of the disgusting, greasy apple’s innards leaking out onto the floor. Luna laughed and laughed, mirth making her entire body quake. Her horn lit up and the apple pie lifted off of the rock in her aura. “Wish for succulent apple treat, do thee?” she asked with unrestrained malice. She held it under my muzzle; I could see my salvation through watery eyes.
I would have taken anything: bread, water, mustard, and of course apple pie. Anything to cleanse the taste out of my mouth. Luna didn't give me the chance. I could smell the pie, cinnamon, sugar, and heavenly apples; she ate it in one bite. She didn't get all of it; about half landed on the floor, but she didn't care. Laughing and chewing, she ate the pie with glee.
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Is mayonnaise a tool for justice?
I vote that Celestia goes for revenge, by replacing everything in Luna's room with mustard jars.
Is this gonna be another 'Celestia is forced to say she likes something she actually hates, and then is forced to be given tons and tons of that food that she hates for all eternity afterwards?
So childish.
5234161
Yep. Good fic so far by the way, I look forward to what you put out next chapter.
Edit:Just saw that next chapter is out and didn't show on my notifications. Can't wait to read Chapter 2. *goes to read*
Ya
________
This was an interesting chapter. XD "Mayonnaise of Justice" indeed.
5234234
Celestia threw up in Luna's mouth. I think justice has been served.
and that, is why mayo is but a condiment.
...I like mayo
5234581 Celestia was just feeding her young. Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo do it all the time!
Plus, Luna ate her chocolates. never eat the chocolates.
5234253
Um... no?
Is that actually a genre? How many fics are there about torturing poor Celestia by making her eat stuff she hates?
5238795
Celestia hates tea
5234882 Me, too.
Silly Celestia. Don't you know that if you have an unstoppable superweapon, you use it as early and often as possible, rather than keeping it in reserve?
Oh dear christ.
Cap. [name]
_______________
Cap. [Name of a specific room.]
5283129
I agree. That'd be horrifying to deal with. Much less two of them.