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// Where Stallions Win Glory (Soarin') 
// Story: Where Mad Gods Dance 
// by Cynewulf 
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Where Stallions Win Glory



Dear Spitfire,



I guess I thought I was cool, you know? When we came to the Zebrahara to help out these poor earthbound fools, I thought I was the hottest thing on the planet. I guess it comes with being a Wonderbolt. It’s just part of the territory, being arrogant. All the glory and the fame goes to your head. You say a lot of stuff, and you claim a lot of things.


Because you can back it up, you know? You’re the fastest, the bravest. When you show up on the scene, the bad ponies run and the good ponies cheer. You sign autographs and strut for admiring mares. Foals want to be you. There’s some foal out there right now who wants to be Soarin’. And that’s weird, but it is awesome. It makes your feel invincible.


So of course, when we started flying over that terrible place, I wasn’t afraid. I was eager for some action. Life was good and simple: fly, fight, sneak some pie, pose for some pictures. When you’re part of the elite fighting force of the Equestrian guard, you get to live that kind of high life.


I wasn’t always that way. Did I ever tell you about how I was growing up? I don’t think I ever did. 


I was never the brightest, back in Neighvarro. I worked hard, but the only thing I did well in school was fly. Confidence and cool were the least words I would have used to describe myself. I grew fast, and was awkward, but when I started flying I was a fish in water. It was all I knew how to do. I have no idea how I stayed fit enough to fly competitively in school, with how much I ate and how lazy I was besides that. Slacked off as I got older, stopped working so hard at things.


I was really excited about going in. Were you? I guess I kind of assume you were, but we didn’t get much chance to talk before we arrived in Antitrot Station and then it was all briefings until they shipped us to the forward base.


I miss flying together, Spitfire. I’m sure you’re glad to not have me bumbling around beside you, huh? 


I remember you were radiant in the light of those flares. It was like... do you remember history class, back in school? How they taught us the old legends, about Celestia and Luna? Do you remember the old picture where Celestia is burning like the sun, and Changelings and manticores and all sorts of monsters are just scattering?


I remember too, how we swooped in on that camp. It was still a day to go, of course, before our mission began, but plans are made to be broken. Everybody’s got a plan, ‘till they get punched in the mouth. That’s what you told me once.


I remember being shocked how badly the Guardsponies were losing. The walls of the town were in ruins, and the tents our ponies had set up in the square were mostly ruined or on fire. I remember ponies running everywhere. I’m pretty sure I saw General Armor, but you never know.


But Damasca was burning. And they were shooting flares, those guardsponies. Don’t you remember?


Spitfire, what happened?


I still don’t understand. I don’t understand why they were losing. The good ponies win, Spitfire. They beat the darkness back, every time. That’s how life works. We’re the Wonderbolts, and we’re supposed to make sure that happens. 


I keep seeing it over and over again, how they were on us as soon as we landed. How we started strafing the streets, but they brought us down again. I remember tripping and screaming. I was always doing that, wasn’t I? Falling. I was always the slow one on the ground.


And then you were there. You were so angry... and you looked beautiful. I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s true. You were. I almost cried, just looking at you, how you seemed like you were on fire in the glow of the burning desert town.


You told me to run. Why did you do that? It still puzzles me, Spits. Why did you come back for me?


We were friends. We are friends. I mean, heck, we’ll always be friends. But why did you come back for me of all the ponies you could’ve saved that night? I mean, yeah, the General got out alright and so did the rest of the Bolts, but you couldn’t have known that. I mean, for all you knew, you had only one shot at saving somepony as we pulled out, and you saved me.


I miss you, Spits. You were a beautiful, brave, great... I don’t even know what to say. I miss you a lot.


I don’t want my second chance to be wasted, Spits. I don’t want those spears in your chest to be in vain. I don’t want the fires to end up being not worth it. I can’t die with my life still unfulfilled.


I’m sorry. I really am, but I’m resigning my commission. As soon as it’s day, I’m giving it up. They’ll have me shipped back with an honorable discharge and a case full of medals after all I’ve done, but that’ll be it for me.


I know you would’ve wanted me to do my duty... but I also know that you wanted me to live. I don’t know why you picked me. Maybe it was just a split second decision. Maybe... maybe you thought I was worth it.


I’m going back to Equestria, where there’s no sand, and it’s green and beautiful. I’m going to Ponyville. There’s a mare there I’ve always thought would make wonderful pies. You’d think she was cute, but a little flighty... and I’d laugh. But I think you’d like her. You’d approve of her sense of humor, at least. Because, let me tell you, she's got one. She's a fun filly, and she never made fun of me. Not in a real way. She's not tough in the way that you are, but she's got that sense of the ridiculous. Remember how you used to taunt the rooks? 


I’m done with glory. I have plenty. I’ve got medals and honor and I’m proud of all I’ve done. It was all worth it. But I haven’t lived, Spits. And when you died... it’s just not something I can bear, flying with the Bolts without you. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better wingpony.


Your death won’t be in vain. I’ll use what time I have. Have a whole cartload of foals and name one after you, do weather work or something. Live a quiet life away from the fires and desert. That gods-cursed desert.


Be at peace, in the song.



I leave this on your grave.