She was seated upon a cloud in civil twilight, staring into the brighter dark with her forehooves dangling from the edge and swaying to the whims of a wintry breeze. Her wings were tightly wrapped around her shivering form, her breaths scurrying out from between her chattering teeth in cold, white scarves that quickly left her with only a tickle of her cheek to remember them by.
Spitfire cursed, more so at herself than the winds nipping at her skin. Underestimating the weather was a mistake that no Captain of the Wonderbolts should’ve made. Nevertheless, too many minutes had passed since she had stepped out of the Academy doors. Besides, with how eventful this day was about to be, she would need quite the exercise. Something that would stay with her and keep her hooves up throughout the entirety of a busy afternoon.
Twenty seconds.
Spitfire stood to attention.
Fifteen seconds.
Small puffs spilled from her lips as she rolled her shoulders, plucking out every pop and crack hiding in the pockets between her clavicles.
Ten seconds.
She closed her eyes and stepped towards the edge. Her wings burst out soon after, frost and dewdrops scattering in all directions to shower the sky in a bountiful glitter as she fanned her feathers and ruffled her pinions. A huff shot forth from her nostrils, the cold from deep within her lungs rushing out, a cloud in the open.
Five.
One more huff, trembling with adrenaline.
Four.
Last one, for good measure.
Three.
She opened her eyes and stared fiercely into the distant sky.
Two.
Her left hoof stretched out past the cloud's edge.
One.
Her right hoof followed suit.
Zero.
Freefall.
The air rushed. It billowed between her ears, tossing her mane about as she dived towards the distant earth. Every cloud in the sky; every star in between them; every tree and mountain below—everything in her field of vision curved and converged towards a single point hovering in the open air. Slicing deftly through the chill, a trailblazer in more ways than one, Spitfire stretched out a hoof towards it, desperately reaching for it even as it tumbled within the upward draft into her grasp.
Closer.
It touched the tip of her hoof.
Closer.
It fell towards her grip.
Closer.
She seized it.
And when she realised she had done so, she curved upwards.
A flaming comet erupted across the sky, just as the first light of Hearth's Warming Eve tore through the clouds.
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He was sitting at his study table at the break of dawn, soaking himself in the fraying light as his forehooves dangled from the edges of his chair and swayed to the whims of a gentle draught. His breaths were a flurry of little Windigos that would've otherwise sent him shuddering from head to toe, swirling along his form with every tremulous exhalation.
Fortunately for him, however, Sunburst had his signature cape wrapped around himself which, though convenient, wasn't exactly as effective of a backup plan as he had led himself to believe. He would much rather have his blanket around him instead of this star-spangled cocoon, though that won't do for now. Perhaps in the next several minutes or so, Sunburst thought to himself, peeking over his shoulder at the bundle squirming in his bed. Or in the final couple of minutes that would be waiting for him at the very end of the coming hour. Hard to tell sometimes, really.
His horn lit up, his shimmering cloud of gold pulling the coffee mug from the table towards him. Closing his eyes, Sunburst smiled as he took in the warm scent wafting from within. He took the first measly sip, the unflinching bitterness and impeccably-measured heat a rush of much-needed comfort in this cold weather. Savouring his homebrewed beverage with the exhaustive concentration of a connoisseur, the unicorn rolled it around his tongue and smeared it across the walls of his mouth, before swallowing it all, only to find himself aching for another round.
A sigh burst forth from his lips in the aftermath, one that came from a place of soothing.
Another sigh burst forth soon after, this one from a place of fatigue.
His heavy eyes had heaved themselves towards the piles of papers currently occupying his desk—papers from last semester's exams, neatly stacked and ready to be scrutinised. Sunburst only went as far as to sift through a couple of them over the holidays. Not once had he sat down properly and started grading them before now. Alas, the wraiths of his students' expectations hung heavy over his shoulders, so much so that by the time he woke up, all he could think about was to get to work on this task long-overdue.
Without further ado, Sunburst leaned back in his chair, closing his heavy eyes and stretching his back to prepare for the breadth of work that had been laid before him.
Only for a pair of orange hooves to embrace him from over his shoulders.
"Sleep well?"
"Mmmm," was Sunburst's gravelly response, head leaning into the other's touch. "I was thinking I should get some of these out of the way before breakfast. Wasn't sure whether or not you'd be sleeping in today."
A yawn broke out from the other stallion, as if on cue.
Sunburst chuckled. "Maybe breakfast should come first."
"Maybe. I could make do with your coffee though."
"It's black. Also a little on the hot side." Sunburst glanced over his shoulder to watch his coltfriend lift the mug out of his hooves and took a cautionary sip. The large gulp the other stallion followed up with had him smiling from ear to ear. "So, I take it you're leaving in the afternoon?"
"Ngghmmyep. Oh. Ooh, oh wow, this is a strong one." The stallion paused to smack his lips as he handed the mug back to Sunburst. "And you?"
"A little earlier," Sunburst surmised, stewing on his thoughts as he took a sip. "Not sure when I'll be coming back yet."
"That makes two of us."
"Glad we have that much in common." Sunburst rose from his chair. He then leaned in and gave the other pony a peck on the cheek, one that was well rewarded with a hearty chuckle and a deep blush. "Why don't you have the rest of the coffee? I'll go make another cup. Maybe an omelette or two while I'm at it."
"You sure? I don't wanna take you away from your work here."
"Well, it's not like my coltfriend has any complaints about me setting aside work to make him a warm breakfast this winter’s day."
A smile “No. No, I don't think he has."
With a slight nod and a knowing grin, Sunburst set aside the mug on the table and took his leave, humming as he made his way to the kitchen.
Just as the first light of Hearth's Warming Eve shone through the windows.
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"Dismissed!"
Morning had come and went all too easily. The past several hours had been lost in a tsunami of shrieks and yells she had thrown at the new batch of recruits that the academy had received. Three hundred laps around the course may have been a bit too much. Spitfire would've thought the same, had it not been for that one pair of newbies whose smarts seem to be coming more from their lips than it does their heads, much to the misfortune of their fellow rookies.
Spitfire wrinkled her snout, carefully poring over the exhausted but chattering bunch from beneath her trademark sunglasses as they dragged themselves to the communal showers. Frankly, as far as recruits go, she could certainly fly out there right now and find some better candidates out there that didn't make the pick this time around. One doesn't need to be the captain of the Wonderbolts in order to see that.
"Oh sherbets and black liquorice, I know that look."
Spitfire chortled at that voice, glancing over her shoulder to see Fleetfoot trotting up from behind her. "Is how it is," she replied with a shrug, giving her clipboard a smack of the hoof. "Average times overall are lacklustre. Even the ones pulling the weight aren't doing any much better. I'm not asking them to smash our personal records or anything but we're looking at a lot of them being stuck on the lower end of the totem pole here. And there’s a lot more of them than I’m liking."
"Yep, whole team was watching. None of them really stood out to us. Crash was even yawning out loud at one point, hoping they'd listen." Fleetfoot giggled rambunctiously. "Rainbow spoiled us real good, let's just admit it."
"Sky ain't blue if that ain't true." Shaking her head, Spitfire turned back to the direction of the showers. "Let's go back to the others. We gotta talk about me being away longer than expected."
"Ooh, change of plans!"
"Yep. Turns out Mom went ahead without consulting me first."
"Captains gotta captain, amirite? Like mother, so on."
"Low blow, Flatfoot."
Fleetfoot snickered. "When will we be seeing you back here?"
"Whenever Mom wants me to," Spitfire answered, stopping only to give it a little bit more thought. "Which is probably in two days. Maybe three. Or a week, depending on how good the eggnog is. Which it usually never is."
"Oof. Speaking of low blows."
"Like mother, so on," she retorted. "I know I'm talking a lot of smack now but honestly? Kinda looking forward to it this time 'round. Lots of catching up to do with ponies I haven't met in years."
"Oh right, that cousin of yours!" Fleetfoot recalled the time Spitfire had been shocked to see his face smack-dab on the front page of the Cloudsdale Tribune. "Never would've guessed you two were related."
"Yeah, that's what they all say," Spitfire chuckled wistfully, looking back on memories tinged in microfiche. "Actually, I don't even know if he's coming. I'm sure he's gonna be busy with work and everything. Or if he’ll be making himself busy, you know, since making time for these kinds of things wasn’t exactly his shtick. Then again, there's a good chance my aunt just said enough and dragged him along. She's stubborn like that."
"I hope he’s there," Fleetfoot said. "Seems to me you two have a bit of catching up to do."
"Right you are." Spitfire couldn't help the smile growing past her cheeks. "Right you are."
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"You sure you don't want me to come along?"
"No! No, just no!" Sunburst's words came out in an exasperated gasp that rang across the railway platform. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Oooohhh no. Next time though! Promise."
"Sunburst, everyone knows about us. Hate to be the one to spoil you, but it's kinda an open secret."
"Yeah, that I'm not really worried about." Sunburst leaned forward from within his citadel of suitcases into the other. "See, one of my aunts has a tendency to ask questions. And you could say that if she knows about me and you, which we should firmly establish from here on out that she does, it means that a lot of those questions involve situations that can be called... well, inappropriate."
"Uh... huh."
"And if I brought you along, half of the conversation's gonna be how you and I are doing. Intimately and otherwise. But mostly intimately."
"So it's either you want to spare me the embarrassment of explaining the deets to her with you in front of your whole family, or you have some things you want to say about us that you don't want me to hear."
The awkward silence that resulted was spectacular. "Flash Sentry," he began, his voice on the verge of collapsing. "You know I would never, ever—"
"I know, I know! I was just joshing!" Flash Sentry couldn't help but guffaw at his reaction. "Dude, what is with you today? Was it something I said?"
It took a moment for Sunburst to get his laugh out. It must’ve sounded sickly to Flash, breathy as it was. Encumbered. Hefty with apprehension. "Sorry, I..." he paused, lips thin. "I’m sorry. It's not you, it's me.”
Flash stopped smiling. “Nothing’s ever you, Sunburst.”
“I just… I really don't know if I should be doing this, honestly."
The pegasus proceeded to wrap him in the privacy of a hug. "You're going to be just fine."
"It's just… it’s been years."
"So was our whole long distance phase. And you were shaking like a leaf too when you were waiting for me here. But it all worked out, didn’t it?"
Sunburst pursed his lips. "Point made."
“Also, I'm sure there's gonna be a couple of ponies excited to see you again, especially after everything you've done." Flash suddenly laughed as they broke their hug. "Who would've thought you'll be the centre of attention at the family gathering, huh?"
“If you tell me this a year ago, I’d say you’ve lost your marbles,” Sunburst chuckled. “But yes, next time. I'll make sure you can come along next time.”
Flash playfully pouted. "Promise?"
To which Sunburst raised one of the pegasus’ hooves up and knelt down to plant a kiss on its tip, all while staring straight into the loving gaze of his dearest coltfriend.
"Promise."
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Stormy Flare was not the kind of mare to pace around the pavement in front of her house.
Her scowl had been stuck to the sky, as if she was heralding some ill omen no one else was privy to. It was something that she had been doing for the past twenty-seven minutes, which was twenty-eight more minutes than she would’ve personally liked, and if she was ever approached about it by a curious bystander, she would happily wave off their concerns with a little laugh and state that everything was fine, just fine, perfectly fine. After all, she was never a pony who desired any kind of attention, good or bad. It was kind of a personal belief of hers, one that had made her an exception among the general Canterlotian crowd, which ironically might've made her stand out among the gossipmongers in these parts of town.
Well, it was really either that, or the fact that her daughter was the captain of the Wonderbolts.
"You're late, Spitfire."
Spitfire sighed to herself, making her descent from the heavens with duffle bags in tow and giving her hooves a well-deserved stretch after such a long and leisurely flight from the academy. Taking off her trademark aviator shades and fastening it to the collar of her uniform, she trotted up to greet her mother with a hug, though the warm distraction was not enough to wipe away the look of disapproval off the older mare’s face.
"Mom, we talked about this."
"You said in your letter that there's a chance you'll be late."
"Right, exactly—"
"A chance. Not a certainty, mind you. Those are two very different words." Her mother waved her towards their home—a two-storey brick bungalow with a curve of stone steps leading up to a fenced terrace jutting out from the top floor. “All that time being in the Wonderbolts must've opened your eyes to the concept of punctuality in some way, shape or form, I'm sure.”
“To the point that it’s keeping me up at night.”
Stormy Flare briefly stopped in her tracks to shoot her daughter a glare from over her shoulder. “Don’t you try and talk smart to me now, young lady. Unless you need me to remind you who exactly you learned it from.”
“Sorry Mom,” Spitfire muttered, following her mother into the house. “Just had a long morning, dealing with our new batch of rookies, yelling like I’m getting paid more the louder I am. You should’ve seen what I’ve seen, Mom. It’s like they think we’re a circus or something.”
“They can’t all be Rainbow Dash, hun.”
“That’s what Fleetfoot said.”
“Well, how ingenious of her to paraphrase yours truly then.”
Spitfire couldn’t help but snort. “Way to do Fleet like that, Mom.”
“Just pointing out that you’re not the only one who picked up my snark, dear,” her mother replied wryly, so much so that Spitfire could hear how large her smile was without needing to see it. “Now then.”
With a flick of the switch, the living room lit up, bringing into view the glittering bouquet of a home in full Hearth's Warming bloom. From the fuzzy stockings hanging on the brick fireplace, to the verdant wreaths adorning the window frames; from the scarlet pillows and the moss-green blankets bundled together on the couches, to the gleaming ornaments hanging from the decorative tree in the corner of the room—everything in sight had already been livened up for the season, courtesy of this year’s hostess.
“You know,” Spitfire began, looking over the myriad of decorations once more as she caught her breath. “You and Auntie Stellar should really stop trying to outdo each other.”
Stormy Flare huffed. “She started it. I’m just following her lead.”
“Yeah, that excuse would’ve worked on me if all of this wasn’t happening for seven years running already.”
“Honey, you know your aunt will never let me hear the end of it if I concede now,” her mother insisted with a pat on the shoulder, as she had done so in the family celebrations of Hearth’s Warming past. “She’s as sore a winner as she is a loser. First chance she gets, she will gloat about her presumed victory over dinner.”
“Like you wouldn’t do the same.”
“Now now, there you go with your outrageous assumptions again, dear. I’ve always intended to be graceful with my coming victory, thank you very much.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it happen. If it ever happens.” Spitfire sauntered towards the dining area and reached for the jug of water on the quartz countertop, pouring for herself a warm and toasty cup. “Any news on when everypony else is arriving?”
“Well,” Stormy Flare paused to think, “Your aunt Sunny wrote to me earlier this week. Said she’s very likely going to be held up at the post office trying to get everypony’s gifts delivered. She’ll be here though. Just that she might be the latest out of everypony here today.”
Spitfire chortled. “Aunt Deedee can never catch a break, can she?”
“Sassaflash and her coltfriend,” her mother continued, “I’m assuming they would make it just before dinner. Or I could be wrong and he had forgotten where he left their train tickets again.”
“For Celestia’s sake, Mom.”
“What?”
“Seriously?" Spitfire exclaimed, her brows furrowing as she gestured a hoof out towards her mother. “We’ve talked about this.”
“What?” Stormy Flare laughed as though the response was unwarranted, just as the ding of the oven called her to the kitchen. “I am just considering every possible logistical outcome for our dinner, hun. Celestia forbid a mare isn’t allowed to speculate in the comfort of her own home.”
A rumbling sigh. “Caramel’s a good stallion, okay? He can be a bit forgetful at times, I guess, but he’s a good fit for her. I’m happy for Sass.”
“Then that makes two of us, okay? Honestly, honey, it’s not as though I disapprove of their relationship in any way. I too agree that they make quite a delightful, if not lively couple.”
“It’s the hyperfixation on his forgetfulness, Mom. That’s what bothers me.” Spitfire paused to take a sip from her cup. “Okay, never mind that, who else do we have?”
“Your Aunt Stellar, obviously. Dragging along none other than our esteemed guest of honour, your poor cousin.” Stormy Flare returned with a tray of freshly-baked Hearth’s Warming cookies and an annoyed frown for the ages. “I swear to you now, honey, if she brought Sunburst just to brag about his achievements and how much she contributed to them—”
“You’re gonna feed her to the Windigos?”
“I’ll bring them back from extinction, and then I’ll feed her to the Windigos.” Stellar Flare popped a cookie into her mouth. “One step at a time, dear.”
Spitfire snickered. “I don’t think cousin Sunburst would let that happen anyway,” she said. “He’s far too, uh… sensitive, I guess is the word I’m thinking.”
“Oh, but you know your Aunt Stellar. All she needs to do is pull him aside like last time, make up something nasty about me, then bemoan about, oh, how her dear son is not helping him, how he doesn’t stand up for her as she gets berated by his oh so very cruel aunt—”
“Mom!”
“—and just like that, Sunburst will be strung along! That’s what’s gonna happen at the dinner table, Spitfire. Mark my words.”
“Nothing’s gonna happen, Mom,” Spitfire reassured her mother, who could only scoff at the idea. “Look, I’m sure Sunburst will figure out a way to make sure that doesn’t happen again. I mean, you’ve read the papers, you’ve seen him. Maybe he’s different now! Sure looks to me like he’s changed a lot since last time.”
“Well, let’s hope you’re right then. Now then, get out of your uniform, go put your bags in your room and come back. I need help with some of the tapestries and these old wings of mine aren’t cut out for it.”
Spitfire stopped herself short of a cackling fit, though judging from the frigid stare Stormy Flare shot at her, the attempt unfortunately did not go past her mother’s keen ear.
“Hey, you said it, not me.”
“You can laugh all you want about it when you’re done helping me with the decorations, now uniform and bags, missy, double-time.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Marching up the stairs, Spitfire turned right from the landing and sauntered down to the end of a small corridor, a small smile creeping on her lips when she was met with the sticker-plastered facade of her bedroom door. She turned the knob and stepped inside, only to start giggling in an euphoric rush as she soaked in the sight before her.
The bright colours of the posters were the first to catch her eyes, sprawled as they were across the walls, with some of them even spread over the louvred doors of her closet. From the fabled snapshots of her favourite Wonderbolts in action, to the blistering logos of Equestria’s gnarliest rock bands, all of them were an illustrated archive of the rollercoaster that was Spitfire’s teenage life.
By the side, her desk remained as she left it: cluttered with books about aerobatic manoeuvres, guides on cloud formation and the biographies of more than a few famous pegasi she had looked up to in all her life. One of the table's corners was occupied by a collapsed row of action figures. Another held up a framed certificate congratulating her entry into the Wonderbolts Academy, along with the golden lead pony badge she used to wear as a cadet resting against it, glinting at her beneath the glow of the sun streaming in from the skylight overhead.
The pièce de résistance, of course, was her bed. Two fluffy white pillows, a bolster matching the pair, and a large bedspread richly hued in the blissful blue of the cloudless sky, just as Spitfire remembered it. Finally setting her bags down, she sat down onto it smiling to herself as she surveyed the site of her biennial Hearth’s Warming pilgrimage, her former kingdom. She felt tempted to take a rest. To lie back and sink into the sheets, to close her eyes and once again dream in colour her many childhood dreams.
However, duty calls. Even on holiday, the Captain of the Wonderbolts shall have no luck finding time for rest. With a sigh, Spitfire reluctantly stood up from the bed and made her way back down, giving both wings and hooves one last stretch to prepare herself for the work cut out for her.
“All in good time, Spits,” she reminded herself. “All in good time.”
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To Sunburst, there was no larger realm of reciprocity in all of Equestria than the railway station of the majestic city of Canterlot.
It was in the coming and the going, in the patience of waiting. The roaring of coal fires and the hissing of steam. The words of greeting, the words of farewell, the hugs and the hoofshakes in between. The tinkling of bits for a ticket, a newspaper, a coffee with bread and margarine. And Sunburst saw them all amid the crowd, the ebbing and flowing therein.
Night was arriving, so he noticed, gazing up to the sky beyond the glass dome. The first of its many stars were already peeking through the evening clouds, bringing with them the first few linns of snow that will surely coat the entirety of Equestria in a gentle cold over the next several days. With a wrinkle of his brow, Sunburst dug his muzzle deeper into the blue scarf wrapped around his neck, smiling inwardly as he cherished the warmth his coltfriend had thought to impress upon him, mere seconds before they went their separate ways. The memory of Flash Sentry frantically chasing after the departing train with the scarf in his hooves shall become a story for the ages. Perhaps it would be a tale worth telling to everypony else in the dinner to come, should he get the chance.
That would be nice, Sunburst thought to himself, chuckling. It would serve as a good introduction of his coltfriend to the family too! Win-win.
“Sunburst! Sunburst, over here!”
Ears perking up at the voice calling his name, Sunburst turned around and grinned when he spotted his mother waving at him in the distance, the mare shimmying her way towards him with a small pyramid of briefcases strapped onto her back. The two of them shared a hug when they met in the middle, though Stellar Flare wasn’t content until she planted one long and loving smooch on his cheek, much to Sunburst’s dismay and embarrassment.
“Sorry I was late, dear! The Hearth’s Warming Tree for Sire’s Hollow got sent to the wrong town. Again.” Stellar Flare whickered gruffly. “I swear, they somehow always mess it up. Every. Single. Year. And every time I brought up that we should change where we get them from, every time? In comes Starlight’s dad, marching up to tell the whole room that we have to keep doing business with them! All because some old geezer from howsoever long ago had been doing so since the dawn of ponykind!”
“Mom?”
“That Firelight. Seriously! I cannot, for the life of me, believe such a nice mare like Starlight came from him! If you ask me what I think, plain as day, I’d say he’s definitely had a mule somewhere in his family tree that he doesn’t want the rest of us to know. And still he speaks so grandiosely about the importance of historical preservation, all high and mighty-like! Pah! The irony.”
“Mom.”
“I mean, I’m just relieved that him becoming your father-in-law is now off the table! No offence to Starlight or your dear Flash, of course, but… ooohh, if there’s only a surefire way to wipe that uppity, arrogant, sanctimonious face off his face, I would—”
“Mom!”
“Oh, what is it, what?” Stellar Flare snapped, catching a few passing stares in the process.
“N-Nothing’s the matter, it’s just…” Sunburst placed a hoof on his mother’s shoulder. “Okay, look, I get that you’re worried about Sire’s Hollow but we’ll be, uh… leaving all of that behind for now,” he proposed. “Let’s focus on why we’re here, alright? Hearth’s Warming Eve. Family dinner.”
“Yes.” A steady nod, one that became more brisk as the circumstances settled in. “Yes, of course, Sunburst, of course. I-I apologise for acting out.”
“It’s okay, I understand. We should probably go though,” he said, quietly sighing in relief as he carved a path through the crowd for himself and his mother following closely behind. “We don’t want to keep them waiting.”
“Yes... ohh yes, we shan’t! Knowing my sister, she’ll probably get on my flank for being, in her words, habitually unpunctual. I swear, that mare loves to find a way to get back at me every chance she gets…”
All Sunburst had left in him was a long exhalation to his mother’s rambles, this time about his dear aunt. Her voice soon faded into the background, just beneath the vivid clamour of the station, as he began contemplating the shape of things to come. There will certainly be a lot to talk about to make up for his streak of absences, that much was clear. Sunburst could only hope with the highest of hopes that he can deliver on their expectations.
“All in good time,” he told himself, digging another layer out of his scarf. “All in good time.”
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The faint sounds of cheer and laughter were a staple of a Hearth’s Warming night all over Canterlot, though few households could match the jubilance and raucousness of the ponies residing in the Flare family home.
A groan left her lips when Spitfire returned to the waking world, stirred by the muffled cacophony of voices coming from downstairs. She rubbed her eyes, breaking out into a yawn as she rose from beneath her bedspread and headed for the door. Her brief nap did little to ease the dull ringing in her head; perhaps a drink or two could calm it down, seeing as the rest of the family seemed to have started without her already.
“Why, there you are,” Stormy Flare tutted at her as she was ambling down the stairs. Her mother had emerged from the kitchen and was heading towards the source of all the chattering, carrying a freshly-baked blackberry pie in between her mittened hooves. “I was just about to send somepony to wake you up. Now come. Some of us are having seconds already.”
Spitfire followed after her mother, stopping herself short at the turn of the corner to quickly brush her mane in an effort to make herself somewhat presentable. Her eyes lit up immediately when she was met with a dining hall in disarray—ponies of all shapes and sizes in their own little spheres taking up every part of the room, tearing away at times only to scrabble for the various plates of food her mother had prepared for the occasion as if it was an all-you-can-eat buffet. Some of them perked up in twinkling curiosity when they noticed her, and with a few low mumbles, Spitfire soon became the focus of everypony’s attention in the room in a matter of seconds.
“Hey, everypony,” she said with a sheepish wave, getting a cavalcade of excited ‘hi’s and muted ‘hello’s in response. “Sorry for the sleep-in. Had a long morning at the Academy today.”
“Spritzer!” came the bodacious holler of one Sunny Delivery, her late father’s younger sister. The mailmare was still in uniform, sashaying from her chair and scuttling across the room with a half-empty wine glass in a hoof to seize Spitfire in a tight bear-hug. “How’ve you been, my little honeysuckle? I was just telling your mother about letting you rest a little longer, you know, since you’re tired and all. But, oh, you know her.”
“I’m all good now, Aunt Deedee. Thanks for your concern though,” Spitfire glanced around the room as she pulled away from the hug, giving a small wave of her hoof to several of her other relatives who were smiling at them from the side. “Where’s your little daisy?”
“Oh, Sunny Daze? My daughter’s with her marefriend. Probably want some time alone for themselves, I’m sure.” Her aunt briefly glanced around the room with a gleeful chortle, only to snap her attention back to Spitfire. “But, oh, look at you! Seems to me like you’re growing prettier every single time I see you!”
“That’s what you said last year, Aunt Deedee.”
“But it’s true though! You’ve become such a beautiful mare! If your father were here, he’d… he’d…” Sunny Delivery sniffled. “He would’ve been overjoyed to see you like this and… and…”
Spitfire’s smile waned, just barely. “You’ve said that last year too, Aunt Deedee.”
“Sunny Delivery, for the love of all things fair and just, stop hogging my daughter all for yourself!”
The sudden interjection from Stormy Flare sent a few laughs along their way. “Oh, I’m so, so sorry for trying to catch up with my favourite niece,” the mailmare snarked over her shoulder, taking another gratuitous sip from her wine glass. “I never get her to see her these days anymore and when I finally do, here you are, striving to keep aunt and niece apart.”
“Because you’re drunk, Deedee.”
“I’m not!”
“I would be less insistent if that was the case.”
“You’re just upset because it’s your wine I’m drinking.”
“And I happen to think that’s also a valid reason to be upset, thank you very much.”
Spitfire giggled. “Why don’t you sit down for a bit, Aunt Deedee?” she suggested. “I think there’s a bunch of other ponies here who want to have a chat with me as well.”
Sunny Delivery rolled her eyes. “If only because you insisted.”
“You’ve heard the captain, Deedee,” another voice chirped in from behind, this one sounding more gruff and forthright. Spitfire recognised it immediately, turning around just in time to come face to face with none other than her other aunt Stellar Flare. The unicorn gracefully pulled her into an affectionate embrace, giving her a few gentle pats on the back when they parted. “Now then, how’s my favourite Wonderbolt doing?”
“You never had a favourite Wonderbolt.”
“Oh, what is with—I most certainly did, Stormy,” was Stellar’s curt response, shooting a glare across the room at her frowning sister. “But enough about your mother. Really! Can you imagine her? First thing she does when I come to the house, she immediately starts scolding me for being late.”
“Because you were late.”
“Ugh, for like seven minutes, Stormy! We’ve been through this whole spiel earlier, now can I please have a moment with your dearest daughter, please?” she heaved, prompting Stormy to roll her eyes with a brusque nicker. “I swear, it’s like she’s doing this on purpose sometimes.”
“Mom’s a worrywart, Aunt Stell,” Spitfire said. “You know that.”
“Well, you tell her then that her worries are horrendously misplaced. A few minutes of absence does not hurt anypony.”
“I guess it’s just hard for her to get out of that Wonderbolts mindset,” Spitfire chuckled, watching as her mother began giving out pieces of chocolate to the younger colts and fillies giddily crowding around her. “I’d probably do the same too if I had a little sister of my own.”
“You may as well be doing it already,” Stellar huffed. “All that yelling at the academy isn’t doing your voice any good, dear. Have you tried the syrup I sent you? You know, I once had a doctor prescribe that exact bottle to me and it worked wonders! I drank it before bed, went to sleep, woke up, poof! Totally gone.”
“Yeah, I remembered giving it a shot.” How much of it was placebo though, Spitfire wondered to herself, though that was certainly the least of her concerns at the moment. “Wait, didn’t Sunburst come with you?”
“Why, yes actually! He’s just—”
Stellar Flare turned to the table, her gaze breezing past all the seated faces. She looked again, in case she had missed him the first time. When that didn’t pan out, the older mare proceeded to squint, as though she had thought to will her son to appear before her out of thin air with her eyes alone, obviously to no avail.
“Well, he’s definitely around somewhere,” she said, harrumphing at his absence. “I’d happily look for you but I’m sure your mother needs some help with serving the food. I mean, look at her! The poor mare looks as if she's about to collapse any minute!”
Spitfire couldn’t bring herself to laugh the troubled look off her face, watching as her mother once again dragged herself from the kitchen with yet another freshly-baked blackberry pie for the family. “You know she’s gonna insist on doing everything herself, right? Only time she wants help is when she's openly asking for it.”
“Then I’ll insist on helping,” Stellar replied, leaving Spitfire’s side with a smirk. “I'm her sister, after all. We make a good pair of stubborn mares, your mother and I. Runs in the family, I’m sure you’d understand.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“And besides, your mother wouldn’t find it in her to complain if I need her help when next year’s party comes around. Or maybe she would, now that I think about it. I wouldn’t put it past Stormy to find something to whinge about,” her aunt grumbled with an overly forlorn sigh. “But what’s important is that come next Hearth's Warming, she will find it in herself to help me out like the good, reliable big sister she is. Tit for tat, after all.”
Spitfire rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Whatever tickles your fancy, Auntie,” she spoke after the unicorn, chuckling just as the both of them began what was most likely their twelfth squabble of the night.
And for the better part of the hour, that was how most of her interactions with her relatives went. Every manner of hug or every pattern of hoofshake, followed by every topic of plentiful, heartwarming conversation, passing her by in the blink of an eye. But as the night carried on and the ponies coming up to her started dwindling in number, Spitfire began to wonder if she would ever get the chance to meet her long-lost cousin. If he would ever grace her with his elusive and likely neurotic presence.
It was only when Spitfire decided to step out from the dining room and into the backyard for some fresh air that she finally, finally, came upon the missing stallion of the hour.
Sunburst looked lost in a world of his own when she found him. Seated on the garden bench and staring up into the cloudy darkness looming over him, the stallion watched intently, with eyes twinkling a mellow aquamarine, the ebullient descent of straggling snowflakes in a pallid breeze. Some of them disembarked from the wind to join the stars scattered across his signature cape, finding their resting place instead among the warm tapestry of familiar company.
And it was the sight of that cape, the one Sunburst had been known to wear for as long as anypony remembered, that prompted Spitfire to gasp out loud for the world to hear.
“Luna almighty, you actually kept it.”
Her remark elicited a yelp from the unicorn, who immediately jolted up in surprise, almost diving into the bushes. Gathering himself, Sunburst slowly spun around to meet her gaze, a smoky and spluttering chuckle leaving his lips when he realised who exactly he was looking at.
“A-Ah-ha. Yeah, the cape. I kept it,” he stammered, one hoof pushing his spectacles back onto his snout while the other clutched firmly onto the edge of his cape. “Hi there, Spits.”
To which Spitfire giggled blithely into the cold, just as the first rays of Hearth’s Warming moonlight pierced through the clouds.
“Hey there, Cuz.”