It was dark in Sweetie Belle's old room. The faint light of a waning crescent moon coursed through the wide windows, providing feeble illumination for the ponies within.
Rarity lay on the bed beside Rainbow Dash. She slowly levitated the broken ocean sapphire over to her dresser and set it beside an old comb. A few drops of the magical liquid that had hidden inside the gem flowed down her forehead, between her eyes, and across her snout. The faint scent of junipers tickled her nose.
She glanced at Dash. Her forehead was still wet with the same fluid, and her nose wrinkled in her sleep.
Perhaps she doesn’t like junipers.
There was nothing left to do but wait and see if Twilight’s spell would work. Rarity’s eyes slowly grew heavier, the mattress beneath her grew softer, and eventually the dark room with musical notes painted on its ceiling went away.
Unseen by either of them, the odd liquid wetting their foreheads began to pulse with a faint silver light.
* * *
Rarity, like most unicorns, preferred to make love in bed.
She wasn’t aware of this fact, per se. That is, she wasn’t aware that the bedroom was the preferred location for sexual activity for the typical unicorn, though if she had ever given it a moment of thought, it would doubtlessly have occurred to her. Unicorns weren’t like pegasi, adventurous and daring and filled with a love for open spaces that led them to the clouds for their bouts of love-making. Yes, she might have occasionally fantasized – with the help of a sordid romance novel or two – about what it was like to kiss and bite and thrust against and be penetrated by a stallion beneath the blue sky, but for her it would always be a fantasy.
And earth ponies! So crude and base and, well, earthy. They might sneak away into the fields or the forests with their beloveds, to tease and caress each other, to lick the salt from their lovers’ skin, not caring for the birds that watched in the branches above. Indeed, she could imagine Applejack slipping away into the barn with her special somepony – but who? A stallion, of course. A rugged earth pony stallion, his hooves dusty with the day’s work, his chest muscled and taut beneath his coat. Her imagination painted the broad strokes of Applejack’s stallion, and it followed them into the barn, up the ladder, into the dark hay loft where they nestled together, tongues gently tasting each other’s mouths and other places.
But unicorns would never do such things. From the earliest days of history, unicorns had built cities and towers and homes. The clouds were beyond their reach and therefore useless. The fields and forests were the province of mud and filth and toil and lesser beings. Unicorns were defined by civilization, and it was there that they sought intimacy. Unicorns were lords and ladies. Lords and ladies had standards.
And Rarity was a lady. She fucked in bed.
The covers twisted beneath Rarity's grinding hooves. They were white, almost as white as her coat, and soft against her cheek. Curious, she nibbled them, the stallion whose weight crushed her momentarily forgotten.
Such a delicate taste. More like water than cotton. She would have given them some more attention, had not a particularly firm thrust from her current lover directed her thoughts back to the pressing matter of his cock. It was larger than she was used to, almost uncomfortably so, and it stretched her to the very edges of her tolerance, to the point where the delicious fullness started to feel maybe a little like pain, complemented by the heavy weight of his balls bouncing against her mound. Just a hint of pain, a premonition, and then he was pulling out and she ached for his return.
It was better to hurt than to be empty. He pushed again, and a quiet groan escaped her throat.
Shameless.
She didn’t care. Her delicate cries, half gasping, half moaning, filled the room with each thrust. The pain was irrelevant. She had her stallion – she wasn’t alone, and that was all that mattered.
But still, these covers were really something else. She couldn’t even guess at their thread count, they were so soft and fine. She rubbed her cheek against them some more, savoring the silky smoothness. They were as delicate as a dream.
Above her, the stallion – at least, she assumed it was a stallion; she couldn’t see him for some reason – thrust harder and harder, his breath ragged in her ear. He wouldn’t last much longer, she knew. Once stallions got to this point they would always lose control and just buck their hips until they came. She didn’t even need a warning anymore, not that she cared whether they spilled their seed inside her or not. The contraceptive spells she’d learned as a young mare were useful things.
Sure enough, he only lasted a few more moments. She bit her lip as he ground his hips into hers, driving his cock a few shades deeper into her marehood.
You mean your cunt. That’s what sluts have. Sluts and whores and—
Her body shook with a weak orgasm, barely worthy of the term. It didn’t matter, of course. That wasn’t the point. Her rear legs folded, and she collapsed onto the inexplicably soft sheets. The beautiful, wonderful sheets. A pang of guilt broke through the blissful post-coital fog as she felt a trickle of semen leaking out of her cunt onto the bed. The covers were soft and beautiful and wonderful and never hurt anypony, and here she was soiling them.
“They’re clouds, you know,” Rainbow Dash said. “That’s why they’re so soft.”
“Oh?” Rarity lifted her head and gave the sheets a closer look. Dash was right – the bed was a soft, cottony cloud spreading out in all directions. The ceiling overhead was the dark vault of the night sky, speckled with stars that shone with just enough light to give shape and form to the world around her.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Dash rolled around, her wings kicking up little bits of fluff. “So much better than those beds you ponies use down on the ground.”
“It is rather nice.” Rarity prodded the cloudstuff with a hoof. The stallion she had just rutted seemed to be gone. She looked around for him for a few seconds before letting her gaze settle back on Dash. “I thought only pegasi could rest on clouds, though?”
Dash shrugged. “Don’t look at me. This is your dream.”
Rarity frowned. She was about to open her mouth to rebut that claim when the cloud vanished, revealing a depthless void that stretched out infinitely beneath her. A hollow, weightless feeling filled her gut, a rush of air tugged at her mane, and instead of speaking, she began to scream.
Before the faintest sound could escape, she woke.
But not really.
* * *
“Remember, it’s just like practice. You’ve done this a hundred times.”
Spitfire didn’t look in her direction as she spoke. Her eyes, hidden beneath the solid blue goggles the Wonder Bolts wore with their flight uniforms, were fixed on the crowd thousands of feet below. It was a small crowd by their standards, only a few thousand ponies crowded onto the rolling green meadows outside the town of New Haven. Their bodies formed a pastel ocean that shifted and rose and fell as they cheered for the pegasi flying above them. The sound of their cheers, like the crash of the surf against the beach, took several seconds to reach the high cloud that was their perch as they prepared to join the show.
“Yeah. I got this,” Rarity said. She spent a moment adjusting the goggles covering her own eyes, to make sure her short mane wasn’t caught in the strap. “No sweat. Just like practice.”
“Twenty seconds,” Soarin said. He stood at the edge of the cloud, his wings already outspread and ready to convert the energy of his fall into velocity. “Fifteen seconds.”
“Just stay on my wing,” Spitfire said. Her voice was a low whisper, meant for Rarity alone. The other Bolts on the cloud didn’t look in their direction. “Ignore the crowd as best you can. Fair winds.”
“And open skies,” Rarity mouthed under her breath, echoing back the second half of the Wonder Bolts informal motto. She stiffened her wings to keep them from shaking and revealing the state of her nerves.
“Ten seconds.” Soarin’s front legs bent, and his upper body tilted over the edge of the cloud, ready to release him into the empty void. “Five.”
Rarity’s wings snapped out, and she stepped to the edge of the cloud with her four teammates. Soarin stood at the center, flanked to his left and right by Spitfire and Starlight. Rarity and Zephyr, the two novices participating in their first show, held the flanking positions. They each had an easy break-away, and no pegasi were trailing them or relying on them for guidance. If anything went wrong, they could simply roll out of formation and regroup at the staging area. Humiliating, to be sure, but safe.
“Dive!” Soarin shouted as he leapt forward. For a moment he hung level with the cloud, the power of his jump defying gravity’s relentless grasp for what seemed like an eternity to Rarity. His forelegs curled under his chest as his body rolled forward, and then he was plummeting like an arrow. Spitfire and Starlight followed a second behind, and before Rarity could consciously process the thought, her legs had tossed her off the cloud as well.
The world spread out before her. A half a mile below, the sprawling meadows began to grow larger.
Great, isn’t it? Rainbow Dash’s voice sounded in her mind. Every time it’s the same. I never get tired of it.
Soarin was a hundred feet below her and still accelerating hard toward the earth. Fifty feet closer, Spitfire was already beginning to maneuver into formation. Rarity fixed her eyes on that bright orange mane. It was like a flame, whipping in the wind. The only thing in the world; all the rest – the empty skies, the ground rushing toward them, the other ponies – none of them mattered. Only that mane mattered. It was her true north, her compass. Her life rested in following that spot of color.
During their training, prospective Wonder Bolts were taught a story about their predecessors. Decades ago, when the team was new and safety standards weren’t as honored, a team captain by the name of Cumulous developed many of the formations and techniques still in use years later. One of them, widely considered the most influential, was known as “follow-the-leader.”
It was simple. Rather than attempting to orient by the horizon or the ground, the normal methods pegasi used during flight, during follow-the-leader only the lead pegasus cared for those visual markers. His wingmates, following a few feet behind him in formation, oriented off of him. If he turned left, they turned left. If he dove, they dove. Their eyes were only on him.
Cumulous’s technique revolutionized aerobatics. Air shows became premier events, attended by thousands of ponies. Formation flights became precise, elite demonstrations of skill and daring, a thousand times more impressive than watching a single pegasus flying the same maneuvers. The awe Cumulous managed to inspire turned the Wonder Bolts into a household name.
And then, one day, Cumulous was a little too slow pulling out of a dive, and he slammed into a riverside bluff at about half the speed of sound. His entire flight followed him into the rocks. They probably never noticed their deaths.
The lesson, Wonder Bolts cadets were told, was to be careful when using follow-the-leader. You could get your entire team killed in the blink of an eye.
The orange mane drifted closer as Rarity moved into position behind Spitfire. The wind ripped at her ears, plastering them against the side of her head. Her tail whipped back and forth so hard it felt like it wanted to tear free and escape from her body.
Ahead, barely visible in the corner of her eye, Soarin’s wings began to extend. He was the only stallion in the formation, and as such tended to fall just a bit faster than the smaller, lighter mares following him. Rarity, like Spitfire, kept her wings plastered to her sides in a bid for extra speed. The ground was barely a thousand feet away.
The orange mane tilted and slid forward. Rarity let her wings relax and catch the air, bending her course to keep the formation perfect. They levelled out and their dive became a fast glide just above the treetops. The tip of Spitfire’s wing nearly brushed Rarity’s outstretched hoof.
Perfect.
Nah, a little sloppy, actually. Rainbow Dash’s voice whispered in her mind again. Was much better in practice. Probably just nerves.
Far ahead of them, the crowd had yet to notice the formation zooming across the ground. Their eyes were fixed on the sixth Wonder Bolt flying a series of easy loops and twists directly above them. Cloud Fire’s role at this point was simple – keep the crowd’s eyes on him. Keep them distracted.
He was good at his job. His large wings curled and caught the air, spinning him in place as his legs seemed to brace against an invisible wall and kick away. An instant later, the empty space he vacated exploded with a brilliant red firework and thunderous clap that hammered the ponies gathered below. Their cheers grew louder.
Soarin’s rear hooves tapped together, activating the spell a team unicorn had placed just before the show. There was a bright flash, followed by a stream of thick grey smoke that formed a dark contrail behind him. The others followed suit, creating five parallel lines that cut across the sky like spears.
Ahead, all eyes were on Cloud Fire as he spun in place. A thousand miniature fireworks exploded around him like stars in the night sky. The roar of the crowd grew.
Just when the sound peaked, Soarin’s formation sped by, no more than thirty feet above their heads. The air tore apart, and a constant rolling thunder washed over the crowd, drowning out even their thoughts. Soarin’s wings tilted, and as one the formation shot toward the heavens like a volley of arrows fired by an angry god.
Not a bad way to start a show.
* * *
Hours later, Rarity finally pulled her Wonder Bolts uniform off. Her coat was matted and dark with sweat, her wings ached, and she felt the start of a headache behind her ears.
And she couldn’t keep the huge grin off her face. Best day ever.
She splashed her face in the sink, letting the cold water wash away the rime of dry sweat that had built up around her eyes. Her goggles had channeled the sweat around her eyes, and the whipping winds dried it almost immediately, leaving a white salty ring on her blue coat. She brushed at the powdery crystals, then dunked her head back in the sink for another soak.
“Looked pretty good up there, hot shot.”
Rarity’s eyes darted up to the mirror above the sink. Behind her reflection, Cloud Fire leaned against the changing room wall. He was already out of his uniform, though his mane was still ruffled and undone.
She stretched before responding. In the mirror, his eyes traced their way along her tight frame, down her flanks, down her rainbow tail and the secret places beneath it. They lingered for a moment, then snapped back up to her face. A faint blush colored his features, just visible beneath his sandy coat.
Heh. Show ain’t quite over yet, huh? Rainbow Dash’s commentary slid through her mind like water, leaving no trace behind.
“Weren’t half bad yourself, Cloudy.” She stepped past him, her shoulders rolling like a cat stalking its prey. “So, what’s next?”
“Well, once everypony gets cleaned up, we usually meet for dinner.”
“Right. So... how long we got?”
“Oh, you could probably take an hour or so without raising any eyebrows.”
Rarity nodded. “An hour, huh? Not like training.”
“Oh, no,” he said. “No need to rush. Plenty of time.”
Her grin was back. “Well, I think I’ll go grab a shower, then.” She turned away and took a few steps before calling over her shoulder. “Coming?”
Silence. She was nearly to the shower stalls when she heard his hoofsteps racing to catch up.
Best day ever, indeed.
* * *
Rarity chewed the inside of her lip, an absent, unconscious habit she had picked up years earlier in Ponyville. It had caused her some trouble in the past – once, she had unknowingly bit her lip so hard it caused a minor infection that left her cheek swollen like a peach for days.
After that, she was more careful with her teeth. But still, on days like this, when months of effort and planning and hope all collided in a single hour, the old habit emerged, and her teeth went to work without her realizing it, until eventually she tasted blood. She frowned at the coppery intrusion, just for a moment, then turned her attention back to the most important day of her life.
For two months she had lived in Fillydelphia, eeking out an existence in her upstairs studio filling commissions for society mares. For two months she had scrimped, borrowed, planned, built and waited, waited for this day, for this very hour, when the doors of Carousel Couture would open, and she would once again be in the business of running a fashion boutique.
But this was not like the Carousel Boutique in Ponyville. That little shop was a one-mare operation, and the business of running it was foal’s play compared to the endeavor upon which she was about to embark. This, this was a true business, opening in a busy city with an established fashion industry. There were competitors here, ponies who would smile to her face and celebrate the arrival of yet another boutique, and at the same moment work to undermine her and put her out of business. It wasn’t enough in Fillydelphia to simply make clothes – here, she had to carve out a niche and somehow prosper in it.
And if that weren’t enough, now she had ponies relying on her. Depending on her. Her eyes, which had been scrutinizing the foyer for the slightest imperfection, darted over to her apprentice, Thimble, who was dressing a set of clothes horses with Rarity’s new fall line-up. Autumn, she had read, was the best time to launch a new fashion enterprise, as the colder weather sent ponies shopping for more clothes out of necessity, rather than mere taste.
Thimble was too busy to notice Rarity’s gaze. Her face was set with a tiny little frown as she stared at a row of buttons running down a mannequin’s breast. Unlike a real pony, the mannequin could not cooperate in the putting-on of its fabulous russet dress, and Thimble had already spent hours physically disassembling and reassembling them with their clothes on. It was frustrating work, but Thimble took to it with the stubborn dedication Rarity had long since associated with earth ponies, and it looked like she would get the job done in plenty of time for the grand opening.
The rest of her new shop was immaculate. Tables draped with bunting and cloth coverings the same color as her mane were filled with the tiny, expensive, and not-all-that-tasty appetizers that high-society ponies seemed to love. Bottles of wine that would have staggered her with their price back in Ponyville were set out by the dozens. Flowers with names she couldn’t even pronounce filled decorative vases in each of the room’s corners, adding bright flashes of red and orange and yellow and all the other colors of autumn to the room.
Her grand opening was already the event of the week. She had caused a bit of a stir simply by relocating to Fillydelphia, setting the local chattering classes afire with rumors that Rarity, one of the Elements of Harmony, was finally reaching the big time and opening a shop in a city that mattered. The who’s-who of the nation’s fashion scene had announced their intent to attend. Outside her shop, in the fading light of the early evening, a small crowd of papparazi were readying their bulbs for the glitterati.
“This was a big night for you, huh?” Rainbow Dash asked.
Rarity frowned again. Rainbow Dash wasn’t supposed to be here. In fact, none of her friends from Ponyville were attending. She didn’t blame them for that, of course – Fillydelphia was a day’s journey from Ponyville, and of the five only Fluttershy had any experience with fashion. Truth be told, most of her friends would be terribly out-of-place here. And it bore considering that her friends tended to destroy high-society events. Memories of the Grand Galloping Gala came back in a rush, and just as quickly were suppressed.
But Rainbow Dash was here, and Rarity was nothing if not a generous hostess.
“The biggest,” she said. “I know that sounds silly, what with all we’ve been through. Saving the world, confronting monsters, rescuing princesses...” She let out a quiet sigh. “But never, during any of those, did I feel as afraid as I do now.”
Rainbow Dash hummed something tuneless as she gazed around the boutique. She wore a thick cast around her left foreleg, Rarity noticed.
That’s not right. The accident was years after I moved to Fillydelphia.
For a moment the boutique seemed to shift, as though the world were a sleeping pony not quite happy with its position. Rarity shook her head to clear it.
“You okay?” Rainbow Dash whispered in her ear. Her legs were undamaged, just as Rarity remembered them.
“Yes, sorry... long day, you know.”
“Heh, yeah. I do.” Rainbow plucked a small cracker from one of the appetizer tables and sniffed at it. She made a face, but popped it in her mouth anyway. After noisily chewing it down, she spoke again. “Sorry about missing this, by the way. If I’d known how important it was to you, I’d have come.”
“It’s quite alright, dear. You were busy with the Wonder Bolts, after all.”
“Yeah, but... I dunno, one of us could’ve come. Fluttershy, maybe. Or Twilight.”
“And do what?” Rarity reached out a hoof to brush away a lock of Rainbow’s mane that had fallen across her eyes. “This is my life, not theirs.”
Dash seemed to consider that. She shook her head, dislodging the lock Rarity had fixed and looking again like a tomcolt who hadn’t seen a brush in weeks. “Yeah, well, I still would’ve. Anyway, what happens next?”
“Oh, it goes fabulously, of course,” Rarity said. “In another hour the sun will set and the doors will open. The weather will be a bit warmer than I expected, and the party will spill out into the streets. We’ll even drag a few of the mannequins with us to see how they look under the streetlights. By the time we close up after midnight I’ll already have enough orders for the rest of the season, and one young mare about Sweetie Belle’s age will offer her services as a clerk. A few years from now she’ll become my second apprentice.”
Rainbow Dash seemed to relax at the recitation of good news. “So, it all works out, I guess?”
Countless nights with faceless stallions. A desperate empty pit in her chest. A cruel voice in her head reminding her what a vile little pony she had become. They all waited on this night’s horizon.
“Perfectly, darling,” she said in a small voice. A foal’s voice. “It all works out perfectly.”
* * *
Rarity reclined on one of the hard, institutional couches in the Wonder Bolt’s ready room. Posters lined the walls around her, one for each of the shows they had participated in during the past season. Eighteen in all, three for each month spent on the road. Eighteen wearying weeks greeting countless ponies, relentlessly practicing formations, quizzing herself and her flightmates on the local terrain and landmarks. A bone-deep tiredness she hadn’t felt since the final weeks of the Wonder Bolts training camp settled onto her body like a thousand-ton blanket.
And yet, she smiled. Across the room, sprawled out on an identical couch, Cloud Fire smiled back.
“Fun times, huh? Don’t worry, the first one’s the hardest.”
She snorted and wished she had something to toss at him. “Says you. This was only your second season.”
“Yeah, well, it was easier.”
They shared a laugh that trailed off into an easy silence. Aside from a few administrative tasks, the season was done, and for six weeks the team would disband for a long-overdue vacation. When they returned, on the first day of winter, the yearly training camp for potential recruits would begin at their facility in Cloudsdale, and the whole cycle would start again. Somewhere out there, Rarity knew, a young mare or stallion had circled the day with a red marker, and was in the final stretch of preparation for their own shot at becoming a Wonder Bolt.
She sighed at the thought. Young ponies already looking to replace her. No wonder the average Bolt only lasted three seasons.
The faint sound of wings stirring through the air broke her reverie, and a moment later she felt a heavy weight settle down atop her. Hooves carefully wrapped around her withers, and his muzzle blew a gust of warm breath through her mane. Cloud Fire’s scent – hot sand under a desert sun – filled her nostrils, and she smiled.
This was a blanket she could live with.
Did you know he was my first lover? Rainbow Dash’s voice asked in her head. Not my first stallion, I mean. I’d had sex before him. Lots of times! But he was the first that... the first that made me feel like this. You know what I mean?
Rarity did. She twisted her head to rub her cheek against his.
On other days, after other shows, when they weren’t so bone-wearily tired, their innocent nuzzling might have evolved into something much friendlier. But today Rarity was content to simply lie upon the couch, and Cloud Fire seemed content to simply lie atop her.
* * *
Rarity stared into the wide three-part vanity mirror that dominated an entire corner of her bedroom above the new boutique. It was large enough that she could see her full image in each of its three frames without having to move a muscle.
The mare staring back at her was flawless. Her mane flowed down the side of her neck like an indigo river, its careful curls twisting just enough to appear deliberate without seeming wild. The conservative black saddle on her back marked her as a mare of sophistication without drawing attention away from her beautiful complexion. If anything, its stark darkness emphasized the nearly pure-white tone of her coat. She spent a full minute searching for any blemish, any imperfection that might distract a potential suitor.
There were none, she decided. The reflection was as perfect as a mortal pony could hope to be.
“Looking good,” Rainbow Dash said, suddenly beside her. “What’s the occasion?”
“A date.” She let out a shaking breath. “My first since coming to Fillydelphia.”
“Ah, nice.” Dash nudged her side with a hoof. The Rarity in the mirror, alone in her reflected mirror world, winced. “So, who’s the lucky stallion?”
“Wicker Spark. His mother owns a textile business. We met while I was fabric shopping one day.” That wasn’t entirely true – the Spark family owned the largest textile business in Equestria, and they controlled most of the import market for exotic fabrics like silk and linen. She had met Wicker while negotiating for a particularly fine shipment of cotton, and they had agreed to talk business over cocktails that evening.
That was three weeks ago. It had gone well, well enough to warrant another meeting, then another, and finally this: her first real, indisputable date in the six months since she’d arrived from Ponyville.
Rainbow Dash waggled her eyebrows. “Sounds like a catch. What’s the plan?”
She turned to give Dash an arch look. “Just dinner, followed perhaps by some coffee at one of the little shops around here. They’re like weeds, actually. Sometimes it feels like every other storefront is a coffee shop.”
“So? Ponies like coffee.”
“Mm, well, hopefully he does, too.” Rarity adjusted her mane one final time, then turned for the stairs. “Coming?”
It was February, and the sun was already below the horizon when they left the boutique for the classy Neighponese restaurant Rarity and Wicker had agreed upon for their date. Despite the early hour, the place was already full of ponies, and a line extended out the front door. Rarity recognized a few of her own designs on the waiting ponies’ bodies.
“Huh, crowded,” Dash said. “We gonna wait?”
“No need.” Rarity stepped up to the concierge. “Spark, party of two?”
The unicorn concierge checked a list on his lectern, then looked up with a smile. “Yes. Right this way, Miss Rarity.” He led them through the crowded foyer, past the main dining room and into the much quieter reserved room, where a few tables sparsely occupied by well-dressed ponies engaged in quiet conversation. At the far side of the room, next to a massive aquarium that dominated an entire wall, a handsome young unicorn stallion stood and smiled at them.
Or, rather, he smiled at Rarity as he pulled out her chair. Rainbow Dash he didn’t even notice. She didn’t seem upset by the slight, and she grabbed a chair from a nearby table to pull up beside them.
“Hello, Wicker,” Rarity said. Her voice was soft and warm. “Thank you for waiting.”
He waved a hoof. “Oh, I just arrived. How was your day?”
“Busy as always. You know how it is.”
Beside her, Rainbow Dash was busy inspecting her date. She apparently liked what she saw, and leaned over to nudge Rarity’s ribs. “You didn’t say he looked this nice, Rares.”
Rarity ignored the comment, but couldn’t help her eyes drifting down Wicker’s frame. He was large for a unicorn, with a coat the color of split wood and a mane a few shades darker. His eyes were a brilliant emerald green, the same color as his magic and the trio of oak leaves on his flank arranged in a pattern similar to Rarity’s own gems. He wore an open expression on his face, and she knew from their few weeks of association that his emotions were like an open book. He was one of the friendliest, likable ponies she had ever met, sharp and witty, with a warm sense of humor that could draw a smile from her after even the longest days.
Quite a catch, as Dash said. A cautious hope began to blossom in her chest.
They made small talk until the waitress came by to take their order. Too late, Rarity realized she'd skipped Rainbow Dash.
“I’m sorry dear, would you like anything? We can call her back.” Rarity’s hoof half-rose, ready to summon the waitress.
“Nah, it’s your dream. Pretend I’m not here.”
“You’re sure?”
Dash nodded. “Just enjoy your date.”
Rarity turned back to Wicker, who was waiting for her with a smile. If he had noticed their conversation, he kept it to himself. “Very well. Tell me, Wicker, have you ever lived outside Fillydelphia?”
* * *
The rest of the evening went as Rarity remembered. Polite, warm and fun. They finished their dinner and then a cup of coffee, followed by a nice glass of wine. Eventually the wine was gone, and they ambled back across the neighborhood to Rarity’s boutique. Rainbow Dash followed them the whole way, occasionally providing snarky commentary or whispering a subtle encouragement in Rarity’s ear.
And then their date was over. They stood outside the boutique, shivering slightly in the February wind. A scarf would have been nice, Rarity decided.
“Thank you for the evening, Rarity,” Wicker said. He leaned forward to place a kiss on her cheek. “The first of many, I hope.”
Time seemed to slow for Rarity. She considered her answer – another evening like this would be something to enjoy. She could finally have that one treasure that had eluded her these years, ever since that horrid night at the gala. She could have a stallion to call her own, a prince, a shoulder to rest her head against when she was weary. A partner. A lover.
She made a decision.
“It has been nice, hasn’t it?” She paused for a moment. “Would you like to come in?”
His eyes widened in surprise. Beside her, Rainbow Dash’s did as well.
“Whoa.” A wide grin spread across her face. “No way. No way! Did you just...”
Wicker recovered quickly and cleared his throat. “Ah, well, I don’t want to be a bother...”
“Nonsense.” Rarity’s horn lit up, and the door to her boutique opened. Darkness waited inside. “Please, be my guest.”
He didn’t wait for her to retract the offer, trotting straight through. Dash followed a few steps behind, a grin still on her face.
The shop lit up as Rarity entered, its spells automatically detecting her presence and welcoming her home. “Oh, just ignore this clutter,” she said. She darted around him to the stairs that led up to her second-floor home. “Up here.”
Rarity’s living areas were still sparsely furnished compared to the shops below. Down there she had to impress customers. Up here was only for herself, and she could afford to be spare. She hoped Wicker wouldn’t mind.
He didn’t seem to. After a moment of indecision, he took a seat on her couch, a cautious smile on his face. His tail flicked back and forth like an excited puppy’s.
She stepped around the coffee table and climbed up on the couch beside him. Her heart hammered in her chest; she hoped he couldn’t see her entire frame shaking with nerves. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and leaned against the back of the couch, still facing him.
“So.” He gulped soundlessly, setting the cords in his neck bobbing beneath the skin and coat. “This is a very nice place you have.”
“Oh, this?” She made a show of looking around the dimly lit room. “It’s fine, I suppose. For a new home. I’m still looking for the perfect accessories for it.”
“Well, I think it’s beautiful.” The shaking was gone from his voice, and his eyes rested firmly on her as he spoke.
Rarity blushed at the compliment. For a moment she couldn’t think of any suitable response, and made do by shifting closer to him on the couch. Their coats brushed every time they breathed.
“Not bad,” Rainbow Dash whispered. She had taken to the air as soon as they reached Rarity’s quarters, and was now perched like a bird atop the back of the couch. She looked down at the pair of them with wide, eager eyes and a grin on her face. “What happens next? Don’t tell me you two...”
Rarity cleared her throat. “Well, you know, it had been a while... and he was a very fine specimen.” She glanced at Wicker before looking back up at Dash. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been, shall we say, quick off the mark?”
“Yeah, that’s kinda my thing.” Dash stretched out atop the couch’s high back. “But I didn’t think you’d... well, you know.”
“And what if I did? What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. It’s just weird.”
“Weird?” Rarity drew herself up and huffed. “It’s weird to engage in a perfectly natural and healthy relationship?”
“Hey, hey.” Dash drew back a few inches. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, you know, not what I expected.”
“Humph.” Rarity turned back to Wicker, who was watching her with the same innocent, hopeful expression as before. How had the next part gone? She remembered they talked for a bit, neither willing to make the next move, until finally...
Aha. She gave Dash a little smirk, then leaned forward and placed a light kiss on Wicker’s lips. He was too stunned to do anything but blink.
“Whoa! Nice, girl.” Dash grinned down at her, their little tiff already forgotten.
Well, of course it was nice. This evening was one of her fonder memories. A lovely evening with a handsome stallion, before the regrets began to pile up in her psyche and that wicked voice came to torment her. She shoved those memories hastily back into the dusty corners of her mind and turned her attention back to Wicker.
He still looked a bit stunned. She gave him a demure smile and leaned back, waiting. Any moment now...
She could practically see him gathering his courage. He licked his lips, his hooves pawed at the cushions, and eventually he leaned forward to press his mouth against hers. She smiled and made a quiet, encouraging sound in the back of her throat.
A hesitant, shaking hoof touched her shoulder. When she didn’t flinch away, it slowly traced its way across her coat, around her neck, until it found the thick coils of her mane. She let him play with her hair for a little while, not caring for the mess it must be making of her style. Manes could be fixed, after all.
She opened her lips gently, letting her tongue out to probe at his. His whole frame jolted at the sudden, wet contact, but then his mouth opened as well, and she felt his tongue, still tasting of the wine from earlier in the evening, carefully touching hers.
Rarity lost track of time as they kissed. Eventually the feel of his hot breath and three sets of rapid heartbeats brought her back to the present. She pulled away from Wicker long enough to glance up at Rainbow Dash, who looked at them with wide eyes and a flushed face. She smiled and was about to remark on Dash’s state when Wicker’s teeth nipped at her neck. The sensation was sharp and painful and absolutely delicious, and she cooed in encouragement as his nibbling teeth worked their way down her chest.
She tried to roll onto her side, but the couch wasn’t quite large enough. She grumbled and tried to twist into a better position before simply giving up and standing.
“Come with me,” she said, and turned toward the bedroom. She didn’t have to look back to know that he followed a step behind.
She paused long enough to shed the saddle. It didn’t cover any essential parts of her body, but she wanted every inch of her coat exposed for what was about to come next. The silken covers on her bed, the only expensive item she’d managed to procure for her new home, felt like water against her skin. She rolled atop them, not caring that he watched, then came to a rest on her side.
His form was a dark shape silhouetted against the candlelight streaming in from her living room. His entire body trembled as he stepped toward her. She waited, but he came to a stop at the foot of her bed, and stared at it like it was a yawning chasm. It occurred to her, now many years later, that this might have been his first time in a lady’s bed.
But at the time that had never occurred to her. She gave her tail an impatient flick. “Wicker, I’d be very happy if you joined me.”
That seemed to do the trick. He lifted a careful hoof and stepped onto her bed. Another step, trembling and shaking. His breath was the loudest sound in the room as he settled down nose-to-nose with her. They were back to parity.
Which was fine, but that wasn’t why she’d invited him to her bedroom. She leaned her weight forward to press her lips against his again.
After an indeterminate time, she heard a sound that didn’t belong – a hoofstep on her hardwood floor. She looked up to see Rainbow Dash in the doorway, staring at them with wide eyes.
Stupid. So caught up in memories you forgot your friend. She met Dash’s eyes, held them, and gave her a tiny nod.
Dash got the message. Her wings fluttered soundlessly in the dark, and she lifted into the air to drift across the room and settle on the bed beside her. Her scent, faintly of sweat and rain and the tang of ozone after a thunderstorm, followed.
Rarity resisted the urge to press her muzzle against Dash’s side. This dream was about Wicker, not Dash. If Dash wanted a dream, well, they could work something out later.
Wait dream what is this what’s going—
A wet tongue found her ear, and she moaned for the first time that night. New sensations began to make their presence known – the frantic beat of her heart, the salty taste of sweat on his coat, and most especially the hot, slippery coal between her thighs. She ground her legs together and twisted on the sheets, presenting the long arch of her neck to his lips for further exploration.
The bed shifted as he rose onto his forelegs and loomed above her. He kissed his way down, from her ear to her jaw to her neck and shoulders, his lips exploring every inch of her skin. She rolled onto her back, exposing her chest and belly to his assault. Her hooves batted at the air, occasionally brushing his firm legs and chest as he kissed his way further down her body. Three sets of breaths, all heavy and shaking, filled her bedroom.
She risked a glance between his legs and was rewarded with a gratifying sight. He apparently found their play as enjoyable as she, and his cock already strained against his belly. It bobbed faintly up and down in time with his pulse, and she saw a slick glimmer at its tip. Curious, she reached out a hoof and brushed it against the length of his shaft. For an instant his entire body stiffened, and she heard the catch of breath in his throat.
On another night, years in the future and with more stallions than she could remember under her belt, Rarity might have done something adventurous with her tongue. She might have licked that precious drop of fluid from his shaft, and coaxed more from him with her mouth. She might have done some of the many things described in that naughty book she stole from her mother’s drawer as a filly.
But she wasn’t that pony yet. Instead she pushed him gently away and rolled onto her belly, her haunches thrust into the air and her tail lifted in a clear invitation. He was quick to accept, and she felt his larger form pressing down against her back, moments before a thick, insistent pressure pushed against her lips, slowly forcing them apart.
She gasped at the sudden sensation, and he stopped. She answered his silent question with a jerky nod, and he pushed again, deeper and deeper, until his hips came to rest against her flanks. Her tail, pinned between their bodies, twitched with each little movement he made inside her.
Her bedroom, her large and open and airy bedroom, now seemed stuffy and thick with the addictive odor of sweat and sex and her own arousal. Rarity drank in the scents and revelled in them, especially the new one intruding from the bed beside them. She turned her head to see Rainbow Dash practically shivering, propped up on one foreleg while the other crept down her belly to her thighs.
She caught Rarity’s eyes, and her blush was as bright as the red locks in her mane. The trembling hoof froze, and she turned to stare at the featureless bedroom wall.
That wouldn’t do. Rarity reached out to touch Dash’s leg. “There’s no shame here, Dash.”
Dash turned back to Rarity, her face still flushed, and she opened her mouth as though to speak. Nothing emerged, though, and Rarity’s attention was drawn elsewhere when Wicker began to move again.
She bit back the moan that threatened to pour from her throat as he began thrusting. He wasn’t a particularly skilled lover, clumsy and overeager, but there was an earnestness about him, a palpable desire she could read in every movement of his body, an urgent wish to please her. It was this feeling, more than the simple pleasure building in her pelvis, that slowly brought her to the edge. She bit her lip and pushed back with her hips with each thrust, silently willing him to push harder, faster and deeper.
Their lovemaking was simple by the standards she would later use. A vanilla position, with no attempts to vary their pace or even pause. He thrust and thrust and that was it, except for the daring moment his teeth fastened in her mane and tugged her head back from the covers. She moaned in response, and that was enough to set him off. A few final, ragged thrusts later, she felt the liquid heat of his climax spilling into her, followed by the heady wave of her own orgasm.
They collapsed onto the bed together, panting. He nuzzled her jaw, just below her ear, and she turned her head to accept a chaste kiss, demure all out of proportion to the act they had just concluded. They kissed again, slow and unhurried and happily.
A quiet groan broke through the fog in Rarity’s mind, and she glanced over to see Rainbow Dash finishing herself off. She lay on her side, her upper body propped up on one elbow, the other leg furiously at work between her splayed legs. The swollen, pouting lips beneath her hoof were slathered with clear fluid that darkened the fur around them. Dash pressed her hoof hard against the top of her slit, and for a long moment her entire body shook before she sank back down to the mattress. Their eyes met, and Rarity could not say how long they stared at each other in the darkness.
And then a strong hoof reached across her chest, pulling her tight against the stallion behind her. The darkness filling the bedroom seemed to multiply, and soon enough the whole world fell into a peaceful oblivion.
* * *
“This is your dream,” Rainbow Dash whispered. “It’s not mine.”
Rarity’s eyes slowly opened. They were on her bed in her boutique in Fillydelphia. Wicker Spark still nestled tight against her back, his breath tickling her mane with each slow rise and fall of his chest. A few feet away, Rainbow Dash lay on her belly, her mane wildly askew.
A faint stir of unease began to build in Rarity’s gut. “What do you mean, dear?”
“I mean, I know I’m dreaming,” Dash said. “This can’t be real. But it’s like... like it’s your dream. Your memories. None of this is mine.”
Rarity bit the inside of her cheek. “Maybe you’re just imaging it. We’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
“Yeah, but...” Dash’s eyebrows drew together, and she squinted hard at the covers, as though they were hiding some message from her. “Before this, with Cloud Fire, that was my memory. But you were there. It was like I was just watching you live out my dream.”
Was that what she was doing? The details dripped through her hooves like water, but she remembered Dash’s first Wonder Bolts show, and the assignations with Cloud Fire afterward. She hadn’t realized Dash had taken him as a lover – it never occurred to her that Soarin might not be Dash’s first conquest on the team.
She shook her head; she was getting sidetracked. This was supposed to be about helping Dash. “Your dreams have been troubling you, haven’t they?”
“No.” She paused. “Fine, maybe. But not like this. This is just weird. Why are you here? Why am I here?”
“Does it matter?” Rarity carefully lifted Wicker’s leg and crawled over to Dash. “We’re friends. We trust each other. Maybe it’s good that we’re together. Here, I mean.” Those last words she added hastily.
Dash rose to her feet and clamored off the bed, kicking at the sheets that clung to her hooves. “No, no. This isn’t supposed to be happening, you’re not supposed to—”
Before she could finish, they woke.
But not really.
* * *
“Hey, uh,” Cloud Fire stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again. “How you doing?”
“Good,” Rarity said. She didn’t look up from the large map spread out on the Bolt’s ready room table. A series of colored markers rested by her hoof with their caps off, and after a few minutes of study she picked one up and drew a careful line between two reference points. “Real good. You?”
“Oh, you know. Good.”
“That’s real good. I’m glad.” Rarity selected another marker and annotated a flight path on the map. The green line wound between the high hills that surrounded the Cloudsdale training facility, across a steep river valley, and came to a stop at the parade field. A decent warm-up for tomorrow morning’s training.
Rarity heard his hooves shuffle on the linoleum tiles. He started to come closer, stopped, then apparently decided to circle around the table opposite her.
Silence. She studied the map, waiting.
“So, mission planning, huh? Looks fun.”
She gave a noncommittal grunt.
More silence.
Celestia, I was a real bitch to him that day, huh? Rainbow Dash’s thoughts filled the emptiness. I guess he deserved it, though. A little.
“You, uh, you heard about Aurora and me, I guess?”
More than that, actually. Rarity had seen them together after their last show in Manehattan, meeting behind the stands where the crowds were thin and the rest of the team wouldn’t bother to look. Meeting with their heads together, whispering. Parting with a long gaze into each others’ eyes and a longer kiss.
Yeah, she’d heard about that.
“I heard you were seeing somepony,” Rarity said. She was proud of how calm she sounded, like she was talking about the weather or something equally unimportant. “She sounds nice.”
“Yeah, she is.” For those few words, Cloudy’s voice lost their nervous edge. She could practically hear the smile on his lips.
Fucking bastard.
“That’s great,” she said instead. “I’m really glad for you. I hope you have fun together.”
Silence again. She wondered if, perhaps, she had put a little too much emphasis on that last word.
Nah.
“So I just wanted to, uh, talk with you about that,” he said. “Make sure we’re still cool.”
“Yeah, we’re cool.”
Definitely a bit of a bitch. Remind me to apologize next time I see him, Rares.
His hooves shuffled on the tile floor again. “Well, uh, just wanted to talk with you about that. I’ll let you get back to work.”
She didn’t answer. Eventually he took the hint and left.
And that was fine.
* * *
Rarity looked up from the worktable. The dress she’d been working on, a sheer little number all done in rubies and lace, sat half-done before her, waiting for the stroke of genius that would find the last piece needed to bring it all together. Across the room Thimble and Weave paused in their chatter for a moment, and when Rarity said nothing, put their heads back together to continue plotting the upcoming spring fashion line.
“What the hell, Rarity!” Rainbow Dash said. She spun in place, staring at the boutique like its blue pastel walls were a prison. “What’s going on?”
“Calm down, Dash. It’s just a dream—”
“No!” Dash stumbled away before Rarity could reach her. “That was me! That was me with Cloudy, my memory, my life! How did you get in it?”
“We’re just sharing, Dash. That’s all. Don’t you trust—”
“Trust?” Dash’s scratchy voice rose another octave. “This isn’t about trust. What the hell did you do to me?”
“You’re seeing my dreams too, you know.” Rarity said. She willed her heart to slow its rapid beating, and kept her tones as soft and even as possible. She could be an adult about this – one of them had to, at least. “Do you think I’d just tell anypony about that night with Wicker? Dash, that was rather personal.”
“Well, maybe I didn’t want to see it,” Dash shot back. “Did you think about that? Maybe I don’t want to share. Make it stop!”
Rarity grimaced. “I don’t... I don’t think I can, dear. It’s not my spell.”
“Well, whose was it, then? Get them to stop it!”
“I can’t,” Rarity said. Her voice grew hot with frustration. “I’m stuck too. But don’t worry, Twilight said dreams can’t hurt anypony.”
“Twilight?!” Dash stared at Rarity, her eyes starting to water even as her body trembled. “What the fuck does Twilight know about dreams?”
That was possibly a question Rarity should have asked earlier, she realized. Come to think of it, there had been a few occasions where their bookish friend had seemed so certain about something, only to realize later...
Oh. Hm.
“Dash, darling, there’s nothing you could dream that would make me feel any less of you. I hope you know that.” Rarity fought to keep the nervous quaver out of her voice. “Just try to relax, please. Please.”
“No. No no NO!” Dash clenched her eyes shut and backed away. “I’ve got to wake up. I’ve got to wake up. I’ve got to wake—”
Before she could finish, they woke.
But not really.
* * *
“Not bad, lieutenant. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually practiced for that last stunt.”
Rarity looked over her shoulder with a smirk. She stood, holding her legs stiff, and angled a wing in mocking salute. “Sir, a Wonder Bolt practices for every maneuver!”
“Now I know you're lying.” Soarin reached out with a wingtip to swat her; she ducked it easily, then danced away before he could try again. “Still, good job out there.”
She shrugged. “It was a good crowd. We should come here more often.” Her eyes followed him as he disappeared behind the partition that separated the mares' changing area from the stallions'. When he emerged a few minutes later, he had ditched his flightsuit and goggles and looked for all the world like any pegasus on the street. Larger, perhaps, with toned muscles that came from hard flying, but nothing that screamed “Wonder Bolt.” She lingered on those muscles for a bit longer, and nearly missed his next question.
You know, for two years on the team, I never looked at Soarin like that? Rainbow Dash’s voice asked in the back of her mind. What I would give to have those years back...
“Have you been to Fillydelphia before?” Soarin asked.
* * *
“No, no...” Rainbow Dash sobbed beside Rarity. Around them, the traffic on the Fillydelphia sidewalk flowed by without pause. The sun was high and bright and warm against their coats. The pile of misery at Rarity’s hooves didn’t seem to notice. “Please stop it, Rarity. You don’t want to see it. I don’t want to see it.”
“Darling, I can’t, I’m sorry.” For the first time since their dreams began, Rarity felt a rush of panic building in her chest. “I can’t. I don’t know how. But Twilight said dreams can’t hurt anypon—”
* * *
A pair of hooves clamped over her eyes. “Guess who?” Soarin's voice said behind her.
Rarity chuckled. He never got tired of this joke. “Spitfire?”
“Hm, nope, more handsome. Try again!”
“Oh, definitely Cloud Fire, then.” She tried to turn around, but he had her in a pretty good grip. She could probably break free, but that would require escalating things to a level of controlled violence that wasn't appropriate just yet. Besides, she was still sleepy, and the bed was very comfortable.
The body wrapped around her scoffed. “What, him? You're kidding.”
“Oh no. He's definitely the most handsome stallion I know.” Rarity grinned. “Such strong muscles, beautiful mane, and that body... oh, that body. Yeah, I'd do that.”
Of course, I really did do that. I never thought I’d be able to joke about it like this, though. Weird how love works. Time does heal all wounds, huh?
“Well, guess again anyway.”
“Aw. Can you pretend to be Cloud Fire, then? I'm stuck with some loser stallion.”
“You know, you're not helping my feelings of inadequacy here.” The hooves vanished, and she rolled over to come face-to-face with her lover. Soarin gave her a mock wounded look.
“Oh, you're saying you feel inadequate? Not quite performing up to standard?” She ran a hoof over his broad chest, enjoying the feel of firm muscle beneath his coat.
“Well, you have such demanding standards.” He gave her snout a lick. “Oh, and happy birthday.”
Celestia, was it my birthday? It didn’t seem that long ago...
* * *
“Stop it! STOP IT PLEASE!” Rainbow Dash’s scream pierced Rarity’s heart like a knife. Around them, the guests at Rarity’s fancy garden party chatted and nibbled on the expensive treats she’d set out for the evening. A dozen gorgeous stallions and mares wearing her latest line of summer wear trotted about the party, making small talk with the guests as they modeled her wares. She was wealthy enough now to afford living mannequins.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Rarity couldn’t stop babbling. The apologies poured out of her mouth. She tried to light her horn, to cast some spell, any spell that might wake her or Dash and end the dreams, but nothing worked. Nothing disturbed the unnatural completeness of the scene around them. She reached out and rested her hoof on Dash’s shoulder, as much to support herself as to comfort her friend.
“Get off me!” Dash slapped her hoof away and stumbled away. “I said make it stop!”
“I can’t!” Rarity was crying too, now. “I’m sorry, Dash, but I can’t! I don’t know how!”
Dash moaned and pressed her hooves against her head, her eyes clenched shut to block out the dream. “Get out get out get out...”
“Dash, please stop—”
“Get out! Get out of my head!” Dash pounded her hoof against the side of her head. Again, and again. A smear of blood marred the blue coat beneath her ear.
“—you’re hurting yourself—”
“Get out of my head get out get out GET OUT!” Dash turned and slammed her head into the doorframe beside them. The entire structure vibrated, and Rarity heard the wood frame crack from the force of the impact. Drops of blood arced through the air as Dash drew her head back, then bashed it into the frame again. Flinders of wood, stained a bright crimson, fell onto the floor beneath her.
And through it all, she never stopped screaming. Until she woke.
But again, alas, not really.
* * *
Rarity tilted the pinions in her left wing a fraction of a degree. The flow of air over her feathers shifted, and her straight course became a slow, easy bank that arced toward the training field on the far side of the huge meadow beneath her.
Up ahead, Soarin and Zephyr waited for her in a casual mid-air hover. Even from a distance, she could see the sheen of sweat on their coats. It was a warm day already, an oddity this early in the spring, but Rarity wasn’t going to complain. Winter had never been her favorite season, and seeing the snows gradually chased away and replaced by the green grass brought back fond memories of her foalhood.
Soarin waved as she drew closer. “About time!” he called.
“What? I was busy.”
“Uh huh. Busy napping?”
She didn’t dignify that with an answer, largely because it was true. Not that it mattered – it wasn’t even a real training day. Their annual training camp had just ended, and by custom the instructors had a week to recover from their own grueling participation. Working 18 hours a day for seven days a week was hard on a pegasus’s body, whether they were a trainer or a trainee.
They could hardly begrudge her a little nap after that.
“Hey Rarity,” Zephyr said. She drifted closer and reached out to bump hooves. “Ready to get back to work?”
“You know it! What’s the plan?”
“Pyro for us. You can do whatever,” Soarin said. He and Zephyr were already fitted with charms around their hooves for fireworks, smoke trails and other pyrotechnic displays, she saw. Below them, a safety team had one of the bunkers open and was overseeing a swap-out of last season’s unused inventory with a fresh shipment from Cloudsdale.
“Huh. Just remember to take a shower this time, okay?” she said. “Last time we did pyro you came home smelling like a forest fire.”
Soarin just rolled his eyes. Zephyr snickered.
Rarity was about to turn and fly back to her own training when a thought occurred to her. “Hey, where’s Cloudy? I thought he was back today.”
“He extended his leave for another day,” Soarin said. “I’m covering for him. We briefed it yesterday at stand-up, remember?”
“Oh, yeah, of course.” Rarity did, in fact, have a vague memory of something like that being discussed at their daily meeting. Not that she ever paid much attention during those. “Slipped my mind, you know?”
“Mhm. Anyway, leave us a few hundred feet of clearance. We’re using the small bangers, but this is all last year’s stock. Might be a bit more volatile than usual.”
“Sure, sure. Anything else?”
“I think that’s it. Zephyr?” He waited for her to shake her head. “Okay. We’ll go ‘til noon, then grab some lunch.
Rarity nodded. Below, one of the unicorns on the safety team looked up at them and waved. She grinned and waved back. Always there for her fans.
They broke apart and took to their respective training tasks. For Rarity, that meant practicing her maneuverability. She still wasn’t quite as agile in the air as Soarin, but she’d come a long way from the clumsy speed freak who muscled her way through training on sheer willpower and the strength of her reputation. Nowadays she could even manage to catch him during their impromptu games of aerial tag.
He was still a better wrestler, though.
She fell into an easy routine high above the meadow, using a series of wild clouds as a makeshift obstacle course. The wispy things drifted unpredictably in the warm thermals rising from the ground, and she spent the first two hours of the morning dodging between them as fast as her wings could carry her.
She was dripping with sweat by the time the sun rolled toward its zenith. Below her, the ground crews were still swapping out the inventory in the bunkers, and started laying out rows of metal tanks and wood crates in lines along the grass. She gave them a curious look and was about to return to her practice when Soarin’s voice caught her ear. She looked up and saw him flying closer with Zephyr in tow. A quick flip of her wings changed her heading, and she fell into formation on his free wing.
“Hey, lunch already?” she asked. They were flying slow and low enough to still talk.
He shook his head. “Ground crews want us gone. They need clear airspace for the swap.”
“What, seriously? Let me guess, they don’t want us dripping on them?”
He tried to swat her with the tip of his wing. She avoided it effortlessly and fell back into position before his wing returned to full extension. Zephry smirked at their little exchange but held her tongue.
Safety. It was a safety issue. Rainbow Dash whispered in her mind. Transfers were the only time the explosives were uncovered and the bunkers were open simultaneously.
“They’re just following rules, LT,” Soarin said. “Remember those? Come in a big book we’re all supposed to read?”
“Uh huh. Hey, isn’t there something in that book about not fucking your teammates?”
He actually blushed, and she mentally added another point to her score. “That one hasn’t been enforced for decades,” he said. “And I don’t think anypony ever cared, if some of the stories are to be believed.”
“So why’s it in the book, then? Somepony doesn’t want us having a little fun?
“It cuts down on the drama. Remember when you wouldn’t talk to Cloudy for a month? That kind of thing.”
“That was his fault, not mine! Maybe they should just add a rule about not being an asshole to your team—”
“Hey, what’s that?” Zephyr interrupted, her voice as calm and level as always. It was so unexpected that Rarity instantly shut up and looked down at where Zephyr was pointing.
There was some commotion on the ground near one of the bunker doors. They were close enough to make out the glow from the team chief’s horn, while all around him other ponies dropped what they were doing and ran at full speed away from the stockpiled of materiel gathered on the ground. Within seconds they were a hoofball field’s length away, and the unicorn turned. This glow around his horn died as he began to run too.
It all happened too fast for anything more than a faint feeling of unease to build in Rarity’s gut. She edged closer to Soarin, until she felt the eddies in the air spilling off his wings with her own feathers.
“What the hell?” She forced a smile on her face to combat the nervous tremble in her voice. “Think we should get out of—”
There was a flash of light beneath them as bright as the sun. Rarity turned just in time to see the earth rise into the air toward her, swiftly followed by darkness.
* * *
Cinders drifted on furnace winds.
Rarity opened her left eye. The right was clotted shut and screamed its pain. Hot dirt ground against her face as she struggled in a futile attempt to rise to her hooves. Her body failed, broken far beyond the weakling punishments it had endured in the foalish crashes of her youth, and she flailed helplessly on the ground.
Stop. Stop. Rainbow Dash’s voice, calm and unhurried, sounded in her mind. You’re panicking.
Rarity gasped for breath and nearly choked on the burning air. Its sere touch added another pain to the mosaic wracking her body. She coughed away the poisonous fumes before they could burn out her lungs.
Remember your training. Observe.
She went limp and craned her head around. Thick clouds of smoke roiled above her and obscured the sun; the nearest of them felt hot enough to curl the hairs of her coat. The loud rampant rush of a blazing fire sounded somewhere close. Faintly, in the distance, a siren began to wail.
Orient. There’s been an accident. You’re hurt. You are in danger.
Wonder Bolt’s safety training, the first thing drilled remorselessly into the heads of all new fliers, instantly leapt to her mind. No pony was allowed to fly with the team until they could recite the safety protocols and procedures backwards and forwards, under the most stressful situations the team could devise. Even now, feeling half dead, they were a clear and solid anchor against the chaos around her.
Decide. You need to get up. You need to try flying. You need to help anypony else who is hurt, and then you need to get out.
The neat order of thoughts, almost like a flight plan, helped calm her racing heart. It was a checklist, and she could do checklists. Twilight loves checklists. The stray thought passed through her conscience without stopping, and she didn’t trouble herself with it.
Anyway, at that moment she could not have said who Twilight Sparkle was.
Act.
She pushed herself onto her belly and struggled to draw in her limbs. One, her left foreleg, didn’t seem to be working the way it should. She ignored it for the moment and focused on the rest, and managed to lever herself into a wobbly stance. The ground around her was torn apart, raw earth exposed and scorched black by some unimaginable heat. A dozen feet away, smoke vomited from a shattered bunker door.
“Soarin?” she shouted. He was supposed to be here. She remembered him at her wingtip, just before... whatever had happened. Now there was nothing around her but smoke and chaos and pain and fear. Only the distant siren, still wailing its panic-song, gave any sign that she was on the training grounds, rather than dead in some hellish Tartarus.
Rarity tried taking a step, and her foreleg collapsed, sending her stumbling back to the dirt. A wave of sickening pain radiated from the limb, and when she stood again, it swung limply from an extra joint just above her knee. She stared at it, numb with incomprehension, then turned her scattered thoughts back to finding Soarin.
A scrap of brown feathers, stained with red, caught her eye. She hobbled over on three legs, ignoring the blistering heat that rose from the embers around her. A few feet away from her goal, she stopped.
Half of Zephry’s wing lay on the bare earth. Only a few tattered feathers remained. Rarity stared at them numbly for a few moments, then turned and resumed her search.
A shadow flicked across the ground, followed by another. She ignored the pain in her neck and twisted her head up to the sky. High above, pegasi were beginning to circle around the tower of smoke rising from all about her. She stared at them for a long moment, then turned back to her search.
“Soarin!” she called. A hot metallic taste tainted the back of her throat. “Soarin!”
A faint sound, something that may have been a cough, managed to break through the siren’s call. Rarity spun toward it and stumbled forward until her legs collapsed again. Sharp, hot rocks cut the skin on her belly as she dragged herself closer to a shallow pit just barely visible through the acrid haze. She crested the little ridge of torn dirt and beheld her lover.
Soarin’s chest rose fitfully with each breath. He’d managed to roll himself onto his back. It was impossible to guess at his wounds beneath all the blood.
His head turned as she drew closer, and – improbably, crazily, unbelievably – he smiled.
According to the accident report, this never happened. Rainbow Dash whispered in her mind. He was killed on impact, just like Zephyr. They say I imagined all this.
His mouth moved, and she could imagine the words. Hey, lady.
“H-hey...” She paused to lick her lips. They were dry and cracked, and she tasted iron. She tried to smile for him, then pushed herself up onto her three working hooves to face the pegasi above them. “Help... hey, help! Help us!”
The circling shadows changed course, drawing closer. The wind picked up, blowing away some of the haze, and for a moment hope began to replace the numbing dread that had filled her since waking in this hell.
The siren suddenly died. The distant hills echoed it back for several seconds, slowly fading, until only the crackle of fire and rush of smoke filled her ears.
That was odd. The siren should have lasted until emergency crews took charge of the scene. She looked around as best she could with one working eye. No, no emergency crews yet.
Perhaps it was just a test, her addled mind suggested. It was just an exercise, and at any moment Soarin and Zephyr would laugh and stand up and they would head back to the canteen for a well-deserved round of drinks, followed by a bit of intimacy in the shower—
That happy line of thinking dissolved. A harsh, cracking buzz, as loud as a falling tree and angry as a nest of hornets, cut easily through the roaring fire. Above her, the vague shapes of the circling pegasi suddenly darted away, leaving only smoke and empty skies. She stared up at them in shock.
They’re following procedure, Dash’s voice answered. That’s the bunker’s integrity alarm. There’s a fire in there somewhere, and eventually the seals on the explosives will fail. When you hear that sound, you drop everything and get away.
“No...” Rarity turned back to Soarin. His eyes had closed, and only the weak rise and fall of his chest suggested he still lived. She moved toward him with unsteady steps. Her broken leg somehow hurt even more, and she noticed a constant trickle of blood pattering onto the ground beneath her.
“Rarity... Rarity!”
Rarity looked up from her leg to see Spitfire, just a few feet away. Her yellow coat was smeared black with soot, but she seemed uninjured. Her eyes were wide and filled with fear.
“What are you doing?!” She reached out to grab a hoofful of Rarity’s mane and started dragging her away from the bunker door. “Come on, move your ass!”
“No.” Rarity shook free and planted her hoves. “He’s hurt. Need to get him out.”
“What?” Spitfire stared at her for a moment, then turned to the pit beside them. Her face twisted, but just as quickly she grabbed Rarity and started dragging her again. “Just... come on.”
“No. No! He’s hurt!”
“He’s dead!” Spitfire yelled and gave her another tug. The sudden jerk sent Rarity stumbling to her knees, and she felt something tear in her left leg. She looked down to see a wide spur of bone slick with blood. Her entire lower leg dangled by a scrap of wet flesh.
“Oh fuck.” Spitfire flinched at the sight. “Fuck. Okay, okay. Just... just climb on my back. Come on.”
“But Soarin—”
“Come on!” Spitfire twisted under Rarity and hoisted her onto her back. It was awkward, and her wings could barely flap hard enough to lift off, but it was enough. Rarity didn’t have the strength to struggle as Spitfire carried her away.
Rarity twisted her head, trying to find Soarin through the swirling smoke behind them. They were just a few hundred yards away when the hill beneath the bunker door rose into the air, as though the very earth had decided to take flight. Two seconds later, the loudest clap of thunder Rarity had ever heard assaulted her ears, and the shockwave rolling out from the explosion swatted them to the ground.
And then she woke.
At last.