A Princess and Her Tater Tots (Luna) by MoonRoundRobin

>As you attempt to sneak into the royal kitchen, you heard a guard trotting forwards on nightly patrol.
>Judging by the sounds of his footsteps and his occasional yawning as he slowly makes his way throughout the castle; you deduce that he must either be a day guard assigned nightly duty as punishment, or about to turn in for the night after performing a late sweep.
>As a princess of this castle, you realize there is no need to hide from a tired guard who’s not likely to put any thought as to why you are in this region of the castle.
>With a commanding trot, you walk past him as he offers a quick salute, clearly too tired to do anything else as he passes by.

>A few moments later, you arrive at the kitchen without any further delays or incidents.
>Around you are all manners of cooking devices and other equipment, most of which you have no knowledge how they could possibly be used in cooking, let along how to operate.
>With some searching, you manage to find the location of a bag full of potatoes for your unnatural Plebeian craving.
>Plucking it up with magic, the bag is silently lifted out of storage and onto a nearby counter ready what you assume to be the next step, cutting.
>You search for a knife before quickly giving up. Instead deciding on using your magic to tear the potatoes apart.
>With your skill in magic, it should be much more precise than using a knife and eliminate any noise you might make searching for one.
>Peasant food can’t possibly be difficult to make.

>And so with little ado you set upon your task of creating commoner’s cuisine.
>Lifting a potato part way out of the sack, you take pause to gaze upon it.
>It’s an unshapely and odd thing; neither glossy nor smooth as a lemon or lime might be.
>Indeed produce such as this has been relegated to the kitchen, and rightfully so; its coarse skin is most displeasing to the eye.
>It is no surprise that a peasant’s meal is created from such an unsightly thing; they have not made practice of displaying their meals to guest as a noble might.
>You snort, before fully removing the vegetable from the bag.
>Holding the potato before your eyes, you…
>…
>You realize you have no idea how to prepare a “Tatter Tot.”
>A blush fill your cheeks.
>To wander to the Royal Kitchens without having first considered this fact…
>It is embarrassing.
>You look around the room.
>Certainly there is some tomb of cookery to be found here; tis a kitchen after all…
>Yet after a few moments, you begin to realize that may not be the case.
>The Palace recruits from only the finest restaurants in Canterlot; chefs who have committed their recipes to memory.
>It is rare for you or your sister to order such foods anyways; the residence of this castle have no taste for such… slop.
>…
>You take a deep breath, and close your eyes.
>Thou did /not/ make this voyage for naught!
>You are Luna - Diarch of Equestria - Princess of the Night!
>You will not be bested by a common potato!
>If peasants can cook these tots, then certainly such talent should be well within reach!
>You look around the kitchen with renewed purpose.
>Focusing once more upon the potato, you channel your magic- your arcane will, upon it. >With a flash of light you slice the lump into the smallest of morsels.
>No doubt such a fine grating will make these /Royal/ Tots melt in thy mouth!
>…
>As if to mock your efforts the potato unceremoniously falls onto the table, appearing closer to sand than tots.

>Alas, the potato did not come out how you hoped.
>No matter
>Another attempt is all that is needed.
>After all, it's not like you do this very often.
>Lofting another potato out of the bag, you hold it still above the table below, and once more channel your magic.
>The potato falls once again, this time diced more conservatively.
>The cuboids land on the table, the sliced pieces toppling over themselves before spreading out and slowing their topple.
>This time, they are of a more suitable size.
>Approximately 2 inches in length, height and width, you deem the pieces of the once potato suitable and contemplate your next course of action
>You recall, at one point, the Tater Tots that the common pony ate as being fried a golden brown colour.
>It seems here that your ingredients, once fried, may yet produce the delicious, starchy, plebian, confection that lay vivid in your mental imagery.
>Glancing around the kitchen, on a wall in the distance, you spot a rack adorned with various cooking utensils.
>Among them is a frying pan.
>You grab two more potatoes, quickly magic them into equivalently small morsels, and trot over to the rack with all three piles of potato in tow.
>You magically dismount one of the Pans from its hook and place it on the stove element below.
>Now.
>Two things.
>One,
>where are the various oils that you must choose from,
>and two,
>how do you turn the stove on?
>Instead of fiddling with the stove, you decide to find the oils first.
>You toss the piles of potato into the pan absentmindedly and wander off.
>The Royal Kitchen is a LARGE place
>So, one might hope that one does not take forever to find the oil section.
>And hope you do.
>You open a few table cupboards and find all sorts of ingredients
>Flours, Sugars, Yeast.
>But you don't find oil.
>Maybe they don't keep the oils in the Kitchen.
>They must have a storage room somewhere
>Or maybe they simply forgot to restock the kitchen.

>The first room was a broom closet.
>No help there.
>The second was filled with plates, bowls, and more teacups then there are stars in your sky.
>You’re very confused why the staff couldn’t be bothered to leave even a rudimentary label on the outside of these doors.
>Especially if they’re going to leave you to fend for yourself!
>It matters not.
>With all the cooking implements stored safely in the kitchen, all the eating utensils in here, your prize must be the only door remaining.
>You throw open the door to reveal…a refrigerator.
>Do they refrigerate oil?
>You stand there with the door open, tapping a hoof against your snout, the cool air washes over you as you think.
>There’s no reason to…but you already spy several things that you would never have bothered to chill, before your…time away.
>Like fish.
>A quick survey reveals a disturbing lack of cooking oil.
>Could your kitchens truly be out of such a basic necessity?
>Your eyes fall upon a box labeled “butter.”
>From what you recall of your sister’s culinary skills, butter can always be used as an acceptable substitute for oil.
>You snatch the butter up in your magic.
>With a satisfied smile, you trot back over the the stove, resolving to discipline your staff in the morning.
>It may have taken you a few tries to have appropriately prepared the potatoes, but now there are no more obstacles in your path!
>You deposit several sticks in the pan with satisfying plops.
>No the time has come!
>Now you must only…you…
>You have no idea how to operate this device.
>Taking a moment, you look over the shining, metal front.
>It can’t be that difficult to operate it, mortals do it on a thrice daily basis.
>Turning the various knobs on the front only result in a ghastly hissing.
>Your stomach growls impatiently.
>…As an immortal alicorn, you have no need to rely on the crutch of modern machinery.
>You shall cook the old fashion way!
>Ignoring the continued hissing, you light your horn.

> You immediately remember a time when you were young, and you looked into the sun.
> Except this time the sun was all around you.
> And in your ears.
> Who knew that the sun sounded like a high pitched whine.

> It isn't until you are picking yourself from the palace garden that you realize a giant gout of flame pouring out from the side of the castle.
> Your quest for for tots has suffered a horrible, horrible set back.
> Also sirens, your quest has suffered from sirens.
> The klaxon of guard ponies is sure to wake everyone in the palace.
> You can't get caught, not only would would it mean your sister would have even more to make fun of you about...
> Your mundane cravings might end up public knowledge as well.

> Without another thought, you spread your wings and launch from the garden into the nightsky, blending with the umbra of clouds.
> With the royal kitchens in ruins —and insurance agents no doubt on the way— you circle down into the quiet streets of Canterlot.
> Where fresh potatos might have failed in providing you with the delicious puffy goodness you craved, perhaps a mass market freezer could succeed.
> To find one you merely trot the streets until you find a young stallion enjoying a late night stroll.

Luna: "GREETINGS, YOUNG CITIZEN. YOUR PRINCESS WISHES TO INQUIRE: WHERE MIGHT ONE FIND THE NEAREST PURVAYOR OF CONSUMER SUNDRIES AND EDIBLES!"

> Your voice booms loudly, causing the stallion to unceremoniously freeze and fall to his side.
> Quickly you approach him, lifting him up with your magic and dusting him off.
> He stares at you with awe and terror.

Luna: "DO NOT..."

> You realize perhaps using your royal voice isn't the best idea.
> Sure it was a bit ignoble to not use it when addressing your lessers, but you needed answers, not paralyzed peasants.
> You clear your throat.

Luna: "My apologizes sir, my intent was not to frighten. I merely wish to know: Where might I find a merchant of frozen prepared food stuffs?"

>He whimpers a bit before stuttering out directions to what he dubbed a “Mom and Pop” shop. According to him it should have some basic and pre-cooked frozen food.
>You tell him to never spoke a word of this to anyone, and that no one will ever believe him in the first place
>He nods and canters off rather quickly.
>Perhaps you were a tad bit too rough on him, but no matter.
>You make your way into the streets of Canterlot, careful to use the alleyways and backroads as to avoid any attention
>At the very least, the burning castle does provide a decent diversion for your expedition.
>In short order, you arrive at this “Mom and Pop” shop, luckily it looks as if they are still open.
>You remain in cover, checking to see if anyone is watching with both your eyes and magic before trotting into the shop.
>Nobody else is in the shop, and the Stallion at the checkout counter is currently sleeping.
>After a quick hunt, you find the location of pre-cooked potato puffs.
>Taking them out of the freezer with your magic, you approach the Stallion at the Counter before prodding him awake with your magic, after all it would be most ignoble for a Princess to steal from her peasantry.
”HELLO!”
>He awakens to the tsunami that is the Royal Voice, his eyes wide as he falls to the floor from both shock and its magnificence.
>You should really stop using the Royal Voice on this stealth mission.
”WE WOULD MOST ENJOY OBTAINING THE PRE-COOKED SHREDDED POTATO PUFFS!”
>He gets up with a spring, faster than even your guards.
>“That’ll be eight bits!” he almost proudly proclaims.
>With an ease only an Alicorn can manage, you teleport eight bits from your personal vault.
>You lay them onto the counter and he deposits them into his cashier and with a big of magic, records the transaction.
>He stuffs the marked bag of the shredded potato puffs into a plastic bag, concealing it for you.
>He hands it over and bids you a good day.

>With a grin you tuck the box beneath your wing, and turn toward the door.
>You sense the path is clear, and step once more into the nighttime streets of Canterlot.
>Turning toward the Palace, you're met with smoke rising from the eastern wing.
>Further down the empty road you see a few lights flicker on, and a mare lean out of her window to gaze at the unusual spectacle.
>Looking skyward you see the silhouettes of not two dozen pegasus patrolling over the stricken building.
>You curse your earlier exploits.
>Thou should have known news would spread rapidly.
>There is little doubt the guard believe this to be an attack — an attempt upon your life, and the life of your sister.
>…
>Your sister!
>You swiftly about-face, and rush into the store of Mom and Pop.
>The guard would have alerted Celestia of the assault, and ensured both Royals were safe!
>If she is told you are missing…
“WE REQUIRE PARCHMENT AND INK SUBJECT! WITH HASTE!”
>Your voice startles the already alert stallion; a feat you believed impossible.
>”Y-Yes Princess! Of course!”
>He fumbles, desperately searching for the items you require.
>Your heart begins to race, and your wings twitch.
>If Celestia discovers this most embarrassing saga, thou will be mocked for a decade!
>Setting the castle ablaze in search of simple potatoes...
>”Here you go Princess!”
>He tosses paper, quill, and jar of ink upon the countertop.
>You quickly uncork the ink, and dip the quill into the black liquid.
>Your mind races, searching a story befitting of such a blunder…
>…

Dearest Sister,
Care not for our safety! We have given pursuit to an assassin! We journeyed to thou kitchen to receive a most fine and fitting treat, only to discover a pony plotting to poison our most prized vegetables! We hath found a moment of respite to pen thou brief message, but know thou is safe dearest sister, and fret not!
-Luna.

>With a burst of magic the paper disappears, and you breathe a heavy sigh of relief.

>Now, you have successfully obtained the pre-cooked, shredded potato puffs, or, "Tater Tots."
>The next step is thawing, and consuming them.
>After all, you have gone through enough trouble, you are not about to give in so easily.
>Contemplating your next move, you leave the startled cashier and exit the shop.
>The streets of Canterlot are now filling up with ponies staring at the castle and no doubt worrying themselves by conjuring up all sorts of horrific explanations.
>Luckily, you have not been spotted yet, and use this chance to escape down an alleyway.
>As you walk down its path, you readjust the bag of potatoes and begin to think.
>The contents of the bag you acquired are pre-cooked, and so, you only require a means of thawing them.
>No need for any fiddling with potentially explosive stoves
>That is easy enough, you know many spells involving fire, but the tricky part is figuring out how to avoid burning your hard-earned snack
>You could suspend them on a magical platter, but the fire would not heat the platter up, or, in the case of a non-fire resistant platter, the fire would disrupt the platter
>You could merely hold them above the fire, but in that case, you would have to keep a keen eye on each of the many morsels to ensure adequate thawing
>This situation might be easier remedied via a more traditional utensil
>A Pan
>You reflect on the idea of looking for a kitchen utensil shop, but that would risk exposing you to the public, and with the backdrop of the eastern-wing fire, that could cause even more panic
>No, instead, you decide the best course of action would be to simply teleport the pan from the Royal Kitchen, and move on from there
>You stop walking and conjure a Blind Hoof spell, and begin prodding around the stove you possibly blew up
>Ok, the stove has not blown up, but the pan is nowhere to be found
>The explosion has also most likely scattered everything in the Kitchen, and so you have no choice
>You must manually retrieve the pan

~
>A loud thud jerks you awake.
>Groaning, you roll over and crack open an eye.
>...Nope, it's not time to raise the sun yet.
>Great.
>Luna forgot that everypony else is TRYING to sleep.
>You grab a pillow and smoosh it over your ears,trying to get comfortable.
>The door to your room slams open.
>”Princess!” A distinctly not-Luna’s voice calls out, “There's been an attack, we need to get you out of here!”
>Their words have barely reached your ears before your blankets and pillows are levitated away and a protective bubble surrounds you.
>You blink twice before you scramble to get up, hastily grabbing your crown.
>You're the ruler of the country, you need to look the part, even in emergencies.
“An attack?! What happened? Where's Luna, is she ok?!”
>The moment your hooves touch the marble floor, a trio of guards surround your bubble before a fourth starts galloping to open a secret passage.
>A stallion by your side avoids your gaze as he answers,
>”We don't know any details yet, Ma’am. The kitchens just exploded in a ball of fire, and Luna was last seen heading towards them.”
>Your stomach drops.
>Why would she be heading to the kitchens this late?!
>Your baby sister could have been caught in the explosion!
>She could be hurt!
>Or…
>Images of the many, foes you've faced over the years, each a serious threat to her well-being starts flashing through your mind.
>Any number of them could-
>”Your Highness? We need to go, now!”
>...They need you as a leader more than you can be a scared sister.
“Call a weather team to put the fire out. I want a list of everypony missing or injured.”
>”Of course, your Highness.”
>Just as you step into the tunnel, there's a flare-up of teleportation magic, baring the arcane signature of your sister, before a scroll appears on your desk.
>She's ok!
>Snatching it in your magic, you read it as your guards escort you to safety.
“An assassin?! Get everypony and out on the streets, now!”