Once upon a time, when midnight was nigh, an airship sailed across the inky sky…
“Captain, the ice is freezing faster than it’s melting!” came a filly’s worried voice. “What are we going to do?”
The mare sporting a tricorne hat opened her eyes. Her name was Fleur de Lis—Captain Fleur de Lis, the Model Sailor, Scourge of the Seven Catwalks. The self-proclaimed fashion wraith haunting those who had no respect for the pirate rules and regulations, and especially for the most sacred of them all: the dress code. Aye, from the Celestial Sea to both Luna Oceans, landlubbers were telling stories of Captain Fleur’s marvelous exploits and how outstanding she looked exploiting them, but also of how her flagship, Réveillon, was the most well-kept—and cleanest—across the known skies.
“Ne t’en fais pas, little one. I promised I would get you home and I intend to keep that promise.” She gave a warm smile. “Come now, why don’t you stay inside? The deck’s all cold.”
The filly shuffled her hooves nervously.
“Oh, uh, you want me, to stay in your cabin? But I’m just a stowaway! I wouldn’t want to mess up your maps and plans and other… captain thingies.”
“You were a stowaway, but you are no longer. You’re part of the crew now,” Fleur replied, eliciting even greater embarrassment from the filly. Crouching by, she held her hoof discreetly, but with great reassurance. “I’m confident that you won’t mess any of my ‘thingies’ up—in fact, once we’re back at Port Canterlot, I want you to look over them and plan where should we head next.”
“But if I’m part of the crew, I should be helping others with the ice!” the filly protested. “I want to help!”
Had this been a year, neigh, a month ago, Fleur would be displeased with her crew talking back to her. But she was a changed mare now. She couldn’t be angry at someone who, despite being so different from the rest of her usual crowd, was at the same time so fitting in the ways Fleur was only beginning to realize. She put her tricorne on the filly’s head.
“You’ll help in the future by learning the trade now. Go now, you can watch the show through the window.”
The filly attempted a hasty salute and scurried away, leaving Fleur leaning over the quarterdeck’s railings. She really intended to fulfill the promise she’d made to the filly and the rest of her crew, and neither snow nor ice nor turbulent skies were going to stay her. On top of it, Canterlotians needed Réveillon’s cargo for the festivities, and they needed it soon.
“Keep working those horns and chisels, you handsome scallywags!” Fleur shouted, grabbing a metal spike and pinning it into a patch of ice. It shattered with a pleasant crack. “There is only one way we can go now, and that way is forward! You don’t want to spend Hearth’s Warming Eve away from your friends and families, do you?”
The question was met with cheer and laughter.
“Indeed!” a mare at the helm shouted. “I’ve got a dress that needs finishing before New Year’s Eve! But I’m not sure our current course is the best we can take, darling. Captain! Darling, captain dear—how am I possibly still mixing those up…”
She had a brilliant white coat, covered with a thin layer of equally white snowflakes like the rest of everything on board, and a lovely mane the shade of deep purple. As the second most good-looking pony aboard she was also the second in command tasked with carrying out the captain’s orders with efficiency and elegance, but not necessarily without question.
“Have no fear, Arrity. There are no stories told after those who shun being bold or beautiful!” She shot her hoof forth. “Take us into that frostbite. De Sass, are the heat coils ready?”
Dalyss, the ship’s boatswain lashed out—not at her captain, but at some poor swab fighting the ice.
“…hornswaggling haulers, what’s that supposed to mean? Just get that project done!” She crowded through the ponies, barking orders left and right under the light of magical torches illuminating the deck. “Captain! Heat coils reporting a pin for the main and secondary rigging. Another pin for the crew deck too, but a pin missing for the lower hold. The coils must be damaged somewhere!”
Fleur was obviously fearless, dauntless and also intrepid as the ship’s captain, but those were dreadful news. With the ice biting through the hull, their mission was in danger. She summoned a rope and wrapped it around her foreleg, then looked back to see the filly beholding her with a mixture of admiration and worry. At least she was safe, and Fleur’s playful wink eased up her frown a bit.
“I’ll go under. Maintain our current course and speed, Miss Arrity, no matter what. Miss De Sass, fire up what we’ve got. Have the unicorns use their magic to give us that extra heat! This ship is our home and we will protect it!”
“Do mind the icing, captain!” Arrity shouted. “I’d hate to be a bearer of bad news to the governor!”
Fleur’s heart jumped. There was a saying about sailors having a lover in every haven, but Fleur only had one, the one. Port Canterlot might have been waiting for the cargo her mighty ship was carrying, but there was also a stallion she’d married in secret who was waiting for her. Some couple they were! He was a government official, a valued diplomat who’d risked his career for her, and she was a common scoundrel, a pirate from a faraway land of Prance.
Marvelous, so now she had another reason to not fail. No pressure.
“Avast! Mare underboard!” she exclaimed and threw herself off the railings, straight through the open hatch.
* * *
Captain Fleur could still hear the shouts overhead, but they were muffled.
Even with everypony running about the upper deck, there was little space in the ship’s underbelly, most of which was taken by barrels of black powder hanging securely overhead, or by no less important wardrobes. There were also spare sets of sails made of the smoothest materials secured behind the wall nets, and in colors—sans beige—for every occasion, be that seeking treasures, chasing the enemies of proper wear or engaging in a bit more questionable pillaging and raiding.
She followed a warm, chain-like coil slithering along the hold, reminiscing about her past adventures.
She couldn’t recall any single one in particular, but she could attest that her crew was a ruthless bunch. They left none standing once they unleashed their charm and beauty on the unsuspecting ponies who, if caught wearing improper, not-fabulous attires, received a strongly worded opinion about their looks, and then a chance for retribution... in the shape and form of some of the Réveillon’s fashion swag.
The more affluent citizens were encouraged to pay a symbolic fee for their new garments, while the less fortunate were simply gifted. That was the part after which there would be no pony standing, be that from a sudden financial crash, or genuine thankfulness.
Yo-ho, a pirate’s life, indeed!
“It’s not like we’re stealing from anyone,” Fleur said aloud to explain herself. “We’re just giving them a chance to do something extraordinary with their lives.”
“You should know, captain,” came a voice from the dark corridor. “It seems that your life has been nothing if not extraordinary lately.”
The voice materialized itself into an elegant mare, not a pirate but rather a scholar, yet Fleur couldn’t divine the reason for needing one during a frostbite. It was almost as if she wasn’t really part of the crew-family. For a moment, some stray thought the size of a candle’s flame crossed her mind, but when the mare rubbed her forelegs and huffed—due to cold, evident by the breaths escaping her lips—the idea dwindled too. Where it was but a moment ago, was now an obscuring mist.
Fleur tried to discern the mysterious guest’s features, but with the lack of light she couldn’t. She lightened up her horn. Strangely, still nothing. The corridor was the width of a pony, and she was positive there’s a pony standing before her, but details eluded her. Fleur didn’t feel endangered—she was still the captain, and she was asking questions there.
“Do I know you?”
“My name is Sunsnap Relic. I am the archeologist you hired for your quest. You remember me.”
A sudden surge of embarrassment made Captain Fleur vulnerable for a moment, leaving Fleur alone to face it. She obviously knew all her crewmates by name, but she never cared much about passengers who, speaking of, were not that uncommon considering her profession. Fashion designers sailing in search of inspiration, ponies looking for a safe passage to places where haute couture was better, even locked-up criminals who had been caught selling second-hoof dresses at regular prices.
So it was not beyond belief that they had also brought a scholar on board. That one had been instrumental in—
“I was instrumental in recovering the cargo from the island.” The mare looked offended, but gave a quirky smile nonetheless. “Or have I really made such a fleeting impression?”
“Non, of course not,” Fleur quickly assured. “My apologies, Sunsnap. I meant no disrespect.”
“Worry not. But what are you doing down here? Shouldn’t a ship’s captain be up there, commanding?”
“C’est vrai, but this is an emergency, so if you’ll please excuse me…” She squeezed herself past the other mare, wondering why did it go so easy. When she looked back, she could think of no way the two ponies could pass by each other, but that was not important right now. Saving Hearth’s Warming certainly was. She nodded at the chain going downstairs to the lower cargo hold. “If I don’t fix the heat coil there, there will be no ship for this captain to command.”
“I am coming with you, then. I want to see those delivered as much as you do,” Sunsnap replied and followed Fleur downstairs. “I heard we’re going into the frostbite. I assume the crew is taking it well?”
“Oui, they are fine mares who trust my leadership. Right now, all hooves are on deck crushing the ice.”
“Even the little ones? No, you had probably sent her to stay indoors. You look after those under your care, after all,” she replied her own question. “How did you two meet, anyway?”
Without a particular reason, Fleur thought of a familiar, but unlit candle. She reached out with her thoughts, searching for a match, but then the ship rocked, and the candle toppled.
“She came in to my life rather fortuitously, you know. For seven days straight, I was sailing lost the waters I didn’t even know existed. The weather wasn’t a dream come true, either, so I was spending most of my time locked in my cabin. Just sitting there, looking through the window, watching those tear-like droplets racing down the glass…”
Immediately, sadness weighted her down like an anchor.
“What happened later?” Sunsnap asked, as if she’d guessed her fears. “Once you found your way?”
“Long story short, I was introduced to her in a place that must have been the strangest port I have ever visited, and I took her in. At first I wasn’t sure if she’s the kind of pony I want in my crew, or if my crew would welcome her,” Fleur replied. “And some didn’t. Some protested against my decision, and if it wasn’t for some backstabbing backstabbers that had backstabbed the rebel, I would be probably dealing with a full-blown mutiny right now.”
“Adopting her was very brave of you, then.”
Fleur snorted at the word. “You scholars and your phrasing.”
They reached the lower hold.
If the spaces and corridors before were filled to the brim with sailing utilities, the hold was packed with cargo of a different nature. Boxes, packages of all shapes and weights, wrapped in colorful paper patterned with Hearth’s Warming themes. White reindeer running across red fields, gold and silver filigrees accentuating the worth of the contents, green mistletoe patterned across the surface, plus a multitude of colorful bows for decoration.
Fleur’s smile ebbed the moment she caught a glimpse of a faintly glowing heat coil.
“There you are.” She moved some boxes away. “One of the links is damaged. The heat comes only as far as here, but the ship’s belly must be freezing right now. If we don’t fix it, Réveillon goes down… assuming of course the lower hull won’t fall off first. I can fix it, but it’ll take a while. You’re here to help? Then get those boxes moving, make sure there aren’t other burnt out links down the line.”
“On it.” Sunsnap proceeded accordingly. “You know, with all those presents around… I can’t help but wonder what would you like to find under your Heath’s Warming tree?”
“A ledger,” Fleur replied.
“A ledger, like a book?”
“Surprised much? You’d probably think I was more of a sword, sails, pile of gold type of a mare, but truth be told I already have all that. And I’ve been through a lot recently,” she admitted as she was tinkering with the coil. “With a book like that, I could keep track of the courses I’ve taken, of how much I gained or lost from my exploits, or what’s been happening overall, for better or worse. It makes you think, really.” She stopped for a moment, pondering. “A ledger. So simple yet I still don’t have one. My standards may be the problem, I think. A captain can’t have a ledger that’s not elegant, wouldn’t you say?”
“Now I feel silly for wanting just something to keep my ears warm. I should have dreamed bigger,” Sunsnap chuckled. “I am sure Santa Hooves will take your dreams into consideration.”
“Non, I don’t think he will,” Fleur said plainly.
“Oh? Have you been a naughty pony?”
“Not what I meant. It’s just that, you know, there’s no such thing as Santa Hooves.”
There was a moment of silence. The crew shouting, their hooves stomping, the heat coil buzzing, it all subsided into eeriness. Fleur wondered—experienced a brief thought, really—if she hadn’t just crossed some sort of a line. In an instant that lasted a single flicker of a candle’s flame, Fleur knew that her companion disagreed, and strongly. She felt Sunsnap’s stare judging her. At the same time, she could also sense a trace of… regret. Or was it disappointment? Sunsnap couldn’t possibly still believe in that old breezie tale, could she?
Fleur threw a surprised glance in the other mare’s general direction, still unable to discern her features or even overall physique. It was as if she was always on the verge of her field of view, suspended between the shadows, no matter how Fleur turned her head. She had a flair for secrecy that one—but it would seem secrets worked both ways.
“You can’t be serious,” Fleur said, raising her eyebrow. “You’re a grown mare, a scholar to boot, and no one has ever told you the truth about who’s buying you presents?”
“Perhaps it is not a matter of what hasn’t been said to me,” a whisper, strangely audible within the silence, resounded. “But of what has been said to you, Fleur de Lis.”
The imaginary candle’s golden flame emerged amidst her thoughts, illuminating her past. Truth. She had been told things she would rather not hear. Too soon, Oriflamme. Too soon! She was not ready for that, she was just a filly. No filly should bear the painful realization she had gone through...
Suddenly, the floor creaked unpleasantly. Fleur snarled a dirty word under her breath and doubled her efforts to repair the heat coil. She was short on time. The frostbite’s claws must have pierced the outer hull, and were already icing and expanding inside every tiny hole they could squeeze through.
She wanted to call Sunsnap for help, but for naught—she was nowhere to be seen even though she had been standing right there a moment ago. Cold air hissed from the creaks in the hull, glazing the now bluish, dormant heat coil with rime. Fleur heard her crew chaotically echoing her own concerns. They were shouting something about the wind... no, not the wind. Something more.
Oh no.
“Load up the cannons!” she yelled before a hole was torn in the ceiling, revealing a terrible sight.
The ship was sailing blind across the vicious frostbite with horse-like creatures swooping all over. Just their luck, and in such a critical moment! Those were windigos, translucent ghosts with an unhealthy appetite for conflict and hatred. They were drawn to it, strengthened by it, and wherever they went, they left frozen ruin behind them. In other words, Réveillon was doomed, and Hearth’s Warming was as good as cancelled.
“Non! Je ne suis pas d’accord!” Fleur cried out. “I made a promise! I was supposed to get my crew to Canterlot!”
Fighting her own misgivings as much as the rising ice around her, she reached for her sword, slicing left and right, but the wall of frost was relentless. She was boxed between the presents when the weight of ice broke the floor, sending her and the cargo to another lower hold. But she wasn’t falling. Those were the levels of the ship rising by her.
Over there! There’s that candle again! Reconciling with its golden flame was the solution she needed. She was climbing the pile of presents desperately, gasping for breath. The combined mass of ice, presents and cannonballs splintered the wood under her hooves, putting her in yet another another hold. And next, and next, ad infinitum—but she could still hear her crew’s desperate cries.
“You made a promise!” Arrity complained. “You were supposed to get us home!”
“You made a promise!” De Sass cried out. “This ship was supposed to be our home!”
“You made a promise!” the filly, suddenly appearing out of nowhere, shouted as well. “I need a home!”
“Chestnut!”
That was the last word that left Captain Fleur’s lips before Réveillon broke in half—and before Fleur woke up.