All of them had gathered, the entire Wonderbolt command, eagerly expecting the news. Spitfire glanced briefly at their faces. Anger was written on each one, anger at the obligatory draft, at the new regulations, at the new ruler himself. Some openly referred to him as the Tyrant-Snob, when they bothered mentioning him at all.
"Well, Captain?" Rainbow Dash asked. "How'd it go?"
How'd it go? The question seemed so irrelevant that Spitfire could laugh.
"We're under direct crown control," she said, making her way to the office. "Nopony flies anywhere without written orders from the Prince. Home leave is suspended until further notice."
"But, Captain!" Rainbow Dash shouted above the roars of her colleagues. "What about—"
"I'll tell you about further changes as I learn them." Spitfire walked on. Shouts erupted around her, only to be ignored. They're better off not knowing, she thought. Right now, this was the best she could do for them.
Closing the door behind her, the captain of the Wonderbolts went to the filing cabinet and opened the drawer. A bottle of hard cider lay inside, along with a bag of rock salt. Spitfire reached for the bottle. Upon touching it she stopped—matters had escalated beyond salt or alcohol at this point. Shutting the drawer, she looked around her office. Certificates, awards, medals, two signed pictures of Princess Celestia herself: her entire life since she had become number taken over as captain. The space between these four walls was her refuge, her castle, yet today it seemed so fragile and insignificant.
"Damn you, Blueblood!" she whispered, kicking the cabinet with her forehoof. "Why did you have to tell me?" When she had gone to see him, she had expected a confrontation. She had been prepared to be relieved of command, stripped of all rank, and possibly even court martialed. Instead, the bastard had told her everything!
One decade to live, a few more if restrictions were imposed—that was the future that awaited Equestria, and there wasn't a damned thing anyone could do about it. Blueblood was deluding himself to believe otherwise. How could he—a mere unicorn—succeed where four alicorns had failed? Even if Princess Twilight was helping with his research, he could never attain the unattainable and no number of restrictions would change that.
"Captain!" The office door swung open. "What happened?"
"Not now, Crash." Spitfire didn't bother to turn around.
"Then when?!" Rainbow Dash shouted, slamming the door behind her. "Ever since the idiot snob took over things have gone to shit! Half Equestria is mobilized! I have friends who aren't allowed to leave their hometowns. Ponies need a permit to use the trains or any sort of air transport. Just yesterday I got mail that Pinkie Pie, the Element of Laughter who's saved Equestria ten times over, has been ‘relocated’ to the rock farm of her parents. Soarin's sister—"
"We live in trying times, Crash." Spitfire went to her desk and sat down. "Blueblood is doing what he can."
"And that involves, I don't know, turning the royal guards into his personal thugs and us into show ponies?" Rainbow Dash stomped on the floor. "It was bad enough we got into arguments with the guard every time we bothered to help somepony, but now you're telling me we're not allowed to do it at all? Ponyfeathers, Captain!"
"We serve the Crown, Crash." If only you knew the truth Dash, you'd lose the will to fly.
Six months ago, Spitfire had made a decision to become a mother. Work wasn't as much fun as it used to be, the world was starting to look a little dimmer... At the time, Spitfire had thought it was because of her age. She wasn't as young as she used to be, so maybe it was time to pass the torch and start a family. How could she have possibly imagined that Equestria’s sun really was getting dimmer?
"We serve goodness and righteousness!" Rainbow Dash shouted. "And Bluesnob isn't either! He might wear the crown, but he's no Celestia!"
"If we don't comply, the royal guards will take our place." Spitfire took a pen and a sheet of paper. "Do you want to start a civil war?" Rainbow Dash froze. Her eyes widened in horror. "At least we have peace now."
"Is that what he threatened you with?! Did he—"
"Crash." Spitfire looked up, the pen in the corner of her mouth, face as pale as a sheet. "Rainbow. Please let this go. I know it's not what anypony wanted, but it's the best we have. Trust me."
Rainbow Dash didn't flinch. She opened her mouth to say something, but didn't go through. With an angry shake of her head she turned around and flew out, leaving the door open behind her.
It's better this way, Dash. No one else must know.
Spitfire finished the letter. It didn't say much—a simple apology and wishes for them to be strong, four words in total. There was so much more she wanted to say, so many she wanted to say it to, but how many words do you need to announce the end of the world?
"Forgive me, Princess," Spitfire said to the photo of Celestia on the wall. "I'm just not that strong. I can't bear this." She turned to the window. The sun was shining bright, but it brought her no joy.
A decade of light, Spitfire thought. More if there are rations. Only a monster would think of sunlight rations, Blueblood, even if a noble monster. The pegasus took one final glance at the life she was leaving behind, then thrust towards the sun.
"One last kiss, Princess," she whispered.
The air cut like ice as she ascended. Spitfire pushed upward for a while longer, then paused to a level flight. This was the first time she had ventured so far above the clouds. As a cadet she would often play chicken with other Wonderbolt candidates, challenging them to see who could move closer to the sky. Now she was closer to the sun than she ever had been.
It had never felt so cold.