A collection of 500-1500 word short TwiFire fics, prompted by readers and written by yours truly.
A collection of 500-1500 word short stories centered around the TwiFire ship. Each chapter is titled after the prompt used. The next prompt will be decided by the readers of each chapter.
Most, if not all fics will be self-edited. I apologize for any distress this causes you.
“Company! Attention!” The cadets on the tarmac quickly fell into formation, some still shivering from the cold mountain air but for the most part ignoring it on behalf of their commander’s order. “Present arms!” Instantly, the group threw their right forehooves into a salute, a tribute to the mare walking in front of them.
Twilight Sparkle paid them no mind as she continued her march into the Wonderbolts Academy proper. The heat and power of her own rage served as more than enough insulation, and the nip in the air hardly seemed to bother her. From behind, she could hear the company shuffle about, wondering amongst themselves how long they should hold a salute to a princess who didn't seem to have any intention of returning them to rest.
When the princess burst through the doors, she was met with all the opulence the Air Force could afford. It wasn't much, just a lot of banners from graduating classes of the academy, a display showcasing various medals and military commendations won by several of the Wonderbolts, and an entire wall covered with photographs of the showteam meeting with celebrities, but the sheer quantity was enough to blow a new recruit’s mind away.
In fact, if she had been in a better mood, Twilight would have taken the time to admire the decor, as she always did when visiting the academy, but then was not the time. Ahead of her was a T-intersection, with a single guard standing post in the center of the two hallways. Good, the alicorn thought to herself. He would serve her purposes just fine.
Upon noticing her, the guard quickly snapped to attention. “Afternoon, ma'am.” The generic greeting would have to be forgiven, as it was the only thing he was technically allowed to say to her without being spoken to.
“Captain Spitfire, where is she?” Twilight’s words were quick and decisive. The tone was concise enough to get the point of urgency across, but not so desperate that the airpony would start asking questions—a skill she had mastered since embracing her new role as a military commander. One more thing, she reminded herself, that she would have to thank Spitfire for when this was all over.
“The captain has asked to not be disturbed, ma'am.” Twilight shot him a look—that “do what I say or I'll bash your skull in with my mind” look— and the stallion quickly caught on. “She's in her office, ma'am, down by the ASF bay. Would you like an escort?”
While the guard was quaking in his boots, Twilight couldn't help but feel sorry for him. It was difficult to limit one’s rage to the pony they're angry with. In an effort to somehow make up for the lack of compassion, she quickly looked at his rank patch and responded. “No, thank you, Staff Sergeant. I'll be fine.” She turned down the right passage, leaving the poor thing cowering behind her.
Navigating the Academy was a difficult matter at first, before she started spending at least a day out of every week there. These days, however, finding the good captain’s office was simple, dreadfully boring affair. Thankfully, time flew by easily as she wandered the halls, eventually coming up on the door she was looking for.
Equestrian Air Force Spitfire, Captain Academy instructor/HAWC liaison
Twilight brought a hoof to the door, ready to knock, but decided against it. Best to not let her quarry know she was coming. Instead, she lowered a hoof to the doorknob and steeled herself. Turning it quickly and barging into the room, the princess almost screamed to the captain seated at her desk inside. “YOU'RE GOING WHERE?”
Spitfire quickly brought herself to her hooves, as did the stallion sitting across from her. “Princess Twilight, ma'am,” the pegasus began, stuttering slightly as she tripped over the words. “I wasn't told to expect you. We would have prepared a formal greeting.”
Twilight caught herself from melting at the voice just in time. “Don't play dumb with me, ‘Captain’!”
The captain let out a long sigh. “Sergeant Major, you're dismissed. Report back to the ASF at oh-eight hundred hours tomorrow.”
“Acknowledged, ma'am.” The stallion left the room, softly closing the door behind him. Alas, the two were alone.
“I missed you, too, Twi.”
“Why didn't you tell me you were going to war?” Twilight’s resolve was faltering, tears building in her eyes. “Why wouldn't you tell me something like that?”
Spitfire chuckled a little. “Probably because I'm not going to war.” She saw her marefriend's confused expression and continued on. “It's a three month command assignment organizing patrol missions over the Badlands border. I'll hardly even be in the air.”
“Oh…” Twilight began. “I got the letter saying that you were going to be on duty, and I know you're technically with the Air Force, so I just assumed that…”
She was silenced by the golden hoof on her lips. “No war, Twi. Not on my watch.” She lifted her hoof and gave the royal a small kiss. “It'll just be three months. And I know that our anniversary is in there, you know. So I promise I'll make it up to you when I get back.”
In that short little speech, Twilight had heard Spitfire address every last concern that she had, but something still didn't feel right about three entire months of separation. “What if I went with you?” she proposed, prompting a questioning look from the airpony. “I could go out to the border and be a base commander, or something, and then we'd still be together for our anniversary. Win-win, right?”
“Two things wrong with that, the first being fraternization. You're worth my job, but not if it can be avoided. Second, you know as well as I do that this isn't your duty—it's mine. So when I leave in two weeks, you need to do me a favor and hold down the fort while I'm gone. And do try to be waiting for me when I come back.”
Twilight let out a tear as she jumped on her marefriend, pulling the pegasus into an almost bone-crushing hug. “I'll be counting down the seconds.”
Twilight weakly turned her head to face the other pony in the slowly sinking lifeboat. It had been a terrible day. The cold ocean water lapped at her hooves, the numbing sensation it caused threatening to take them off at any moment. The sun, though at it's highest, did not warm her fur, rather only continued to add to the chilling effect. If she didn't die from hypothermia soon, there was still a griffon destroyer swiftly moving towards their position. It would only be a few minutes before she became the most valuable prisoner of war in Equestrian history.
"Worth it," she whispered hoarsely, an ever-present shiver in her voice, causing the yellow pegasus pony to chuckle a little.
"You would be the one to say something like that," Spitfire replied, her energy draining a little. "See your marefriend one last time before she's executed in some backwater Ataska POW camp?"
Eight hundred meters.
"Something like that." A short silence followed. "Would you come lay down with me?"
Six hundred meters.
Spitfire didn't say anything, just whipped her mane around in the most suggestive way she could manage with all the water in it, and settled in next to her company.
Twilight pressed her chest into the airmare's back, spreading what little warmth was left between them.
Four hundred meters.
"Thank you." The royal took a wing and wrapped it around her company's body.
"It's the least I could do."
Two hundred meters.
"There's something I need to tell you." Spitfire turned her head over her shoulder to look directly at her marefriend and gave her a questioning look.
The destroyer was right on top of them, the bow lining up perfectly with the hull of the inflatable boat. Her forward deck towered some distance over them, the mast blocking out the sun, making sure all hope really was lost.
"I... I lo--"
"Do I need to give you two some privacy?" a familiar voice called out from somewhere above. Both of the suffering mares recognized the cheerfulness of it, and the happiness they heard didn't feel out of place. There was only one pony with a voice like that.
Spitfire just stared into the sky as Twilight shot up to a standing position, searching for that voice. "Cadence?" she called out, completely forgetting the cold, the pain, the everything except hope. "Cadence, is that you?"
"Somepony get down there!" a new pony called, likely a crew member.
"Hang on, Twilight! Help is coming!"
"I wouldn't mind some privacy," the pegasus whispered, only barely being able to be heard by Twilight.
"But they have warm beds on board."
Two new pegasi jumped from the guardrail of the ship, Navy fliers from the uniforms. In a single swift motion, they picked up both of the castaways and brought them up, soaking wet, to the deck, where both Cadence and a Navy commander were waiting.
"Twilight, there you are!" Cadence ran up and gripped the smaller alicorn in a bone-crushing hug, uncaring of the water now trapped on her own fur. "After those griffons left, we'd thought they would have already searched for survivors!"
Suddenly, the state of near-hypothermia Twilight was in caught up with her. "We're alive, but I should probably see a doctor..."
Cadence finally pulled away. "Right, of course. Doctor, shower, warm bed, I'm guessing. Commander?" The officer stepped up to the group, awaiting his orders. "Take these two down to the medbay. See to it they get whatever they need. Privacy included."
"Aye aye, ma'am!" The officer threw his forehoof in salute, then turned and faced the newcomers. "Welcome aboard the ENS Crystali, ladies. If you'll come with me, I'll take you down to the corpsmare." Both of them nodded and followed as he opened a hatch to a staircase leading below deck.
As they walked, Spitfire found herself smiling. "Hey, Twi?" Her marefriend looked at her questioningly.
Twilight picked up her checklist one more time. Medical and fire services on standby? Check. Supplies? Check. Shielding spell matrices at the ready? Check. Spike no longer on the premises? Check. Everything was ready.
"Of course I'm sure this is a good idea. Everything's perfect."
"That's what you said the last time, and..."
"I remember what happened last time," Twilight half-jokingly yelled. "And I've been practicing a lot. Have a little faith."
Spitfire sighed as some rather unpleasant memories came to surface. A very large fire, a territorial emergency, twenty straight hours of weather work, and one hell of a party of memories, to be precise. Anniversary dinner wasn't worth the trouble.
"We could go out. I could cook. We could not die."
"I'm not going to kill us! I never even came close!" Now Twilight was starting to become visibly frustrated. It would all be so much simpler if Spitfire would just let her finish.
"I know, but the kitchen is brand new. If you'd let me give you some pointers, I'm sure we could..."
"Absolutely not!" The alicorn swiftly picked Spitfire up in her magic and stuck her outside the door to the kitchens. "I told you I was going to cook you a nice meal, and by Celestia, I'm going to do it!" she screamed before promptly slamming the door in her marefriend's face. Now that there were no distractions, she could finally get to work.
Several minutes passed, leaving Spitfire to her thoughts. It had been a whole year to the day since Twilight had offered to cook for her. That in and of itself worried her greatly. Between herself and Spike cooking for her and restaurant food, the Wonderbolt couldn't help but speculate on how much time of "practice" Twilight actually got in. Then there was the fact that she was sitting on the cold crystal floor on her second anniversary: that upset her greatly, and Twilight was going to have to cook a pretty amazing meal to make up for the lack of time they'd spent together so far.
It's way too quiet in there, she thought to herself after a whole five minutes had passed. Even if nothing had exploded, she should have still been able to hear something. A knife hitting a cutting board, an oven sounding off after its preheating was done. Something. One little peek couldn't hurt, could it? So, she silently pushed open the door and stepped inside.
There, she found a profusely sweating princess focusing a good deal of magical energy into a frying pan. "Hey, Twi," the pegasus began nervously, not wanting to interrupt anything truly important. "What'cha doing?"
Without releasing her magic, the royal turned her head to look at the kitchen's newcomer. "Oh, hey," she started to nervously reply before turning her full attention back to the task at hoof. "Right now? I'm trying to contain this explosion long enough for it to burn itself out."
Spitfire swiftly walked over to the alicorn. "How long should that take?" she questioned, now by Twilight's side.
"Based solely on the sheer amount of energy contained and the finite amount of magic I can put into the shield? Somewhere between ten and twelve minutes."
"You know I love you, right?" Receiving no answer, the pegasus pony sighed again. More drastic measures would need to be taken. She brought a hoof to her mouth and gave it a small lick. "I'm real sorry, Twi, but some of us learn by example." She reached up and touched Twilight's horn, causing a small magical surge and releasing the shield.
The world around both of them went black. Or, rather, the kitchen they happened to be standing in went black. Almost no surface was left untouched, only the faintest blues visible against the char and ash. Both ponies looked ridiculous standing there, their manes blown back, their fur flash-dyed, their eyes open in shock. The force of the explosion took them both by surprise, but did little lasting damage. At least, to them.
"So..." Spitfire finally broke the silence. "Take-out?"
Spitfire shifted uncomfortably on the ground as the burlap sack was removed from her head, the darkness giving way to a dimly lit room. Though the single light hanging from the ceiling was by no means particularly powerful, she'd spent the last several hours under that cover, and while she was glad to see light again, it was quite painful. Almost immediately, her military reflexes kicked in, forcing her into an anti-interrogation mindset. After all, the tell-tale signs were all there: wings tied down, hoofs restrained behind her back, in a small room containing nothing but herself, a lightbulb, two griffons, a table, and a combat knife sitting on top of it. It was definitely an interrogation. "Spitfire. Eques..."
"Equestrian Air Force," one of the other beings interrupted, stopping the pegasus dead in her tracks. "First Platoon, Alpha Company, Thirty-eighth Fighter Wing. Captain, identification number four-nine-two-one-three-three-seven-two-four." He paused for a moment to take a seat across the table and look Spitfire directly in the eyes. "We know who you are."
That was... intimidating. If they'd simply done their research as they came here, she would be a simple prisoner of war. But if they took her because of who she was, that would be a problem. If they broke her, they could gain access to any amount of classified military intelligence, troop reports, locations of several undercover agents... they could ransom her back off to Twilight, who would undoubtedly pay thousands, if not millions of bits for the hope of keeping her safe. "What do you want?"
"I only want to ask you a simple question. Answer it for me, and I promise you'll be treated with the respect you deserve by my employer." My employer... The words confirmed what Spitfire had feared: she'd already judged by the accent that the two in the room with her were not homeland griffons, but his promise of respect had confirmed their status as mercenaries. She also took note of the silent one moving around near the wall until he'd maneuvered into a position behind her. "If you do not, I cannot speak for what will happen here."
He took a deep breath, giving a frightening smile at his last assertion. "What was your mission in Nevskaya, Captain?"
Nevskaya. Capitol city of the Griffon Kingdom. Glass skyscrapers and tiny cafes sitting right next to each other. Spitfire had been there, once. She and Twilight had gone on a world tour together. It was a nice enough place, but there hadn't been a mission. It was a vacation. "I never went to Nevskaya for a mission."
With that, her fiery orange mane found itself home to another griffon's claws, and her edge of the table found itself home to her forehead. The one that had pushed her walked away slowly, and the talkative one just smiled. "It isn't polite to lie to lie to someone, Captain. I'll ask you again: What was your mission in Nevskaya?"
Lifting her head slowly, feeling a throbbing pain even as she did so, she replied, "I never went to Nevskaya for a mission, I told you!" Her head slammed into the table again.
"It isn't polite to lie to..."
Without even looking up this time, the pony interrupted him. "Spitfire. Equestrian Air Force. Captain. Identification number four-nine-two-one-three-three-seven-two-four."
"What was your mission..."
"Spitfire. Equestrian Air Force. Captain. Identification number four-nine-two-one-three-three-seven-two-four."
Suddenly, the ground shook lightly, only just enough for both beings to notice it. Now, Spitfire lifted her head up to see the silent on leaving walking towards the door, her interrogator mouthing something along the lines of "Go see what that was." She smiled to herself at their ignorance. Once it was just the two of them, she let that grin grow. "I know exactly what that was."
"Shut up." The words seemed nervous, as if he did, too. The griffon was losing his cool, and if she could get him to step out, too...
"Sounded to me like a twenty-five pound anti-medium structure and emplacement bomb. Probably freefall, instead of guided. We felt it in here, so I'm assuming we're in a cave."
"Shut up."
"I hope you don't have the entrance blocked off. Then, somepony might have to drop a fifty to get in here, and that doesn't end well for anyone. Except maybe me."
"Shut up!"
The ground shook again, harder this time. Once it had stopped, she could hear the echoes of voices in the caves. Specifically, echoes of voices speaking Equestrian. "They dropped a fifty to get in here." This time, the other one didn't reply. Instead, he simply began rubbing his temples with his claws, like one does when they have a headache.
The voices were getting closer. It only took thirty seconds for her to hear the hope she'd been waiting for. "Stack up!" somepony called from behind the door. It was time to go.
"You forgot one thing, by the way." Her captor looked at her with more anger than question in his eyes, but politely waited for her to finish. "Spitfire. Equestrian Air Force. Captain. Identification number four-nine-two-one-three-three-seven-two-four. Fiancée to Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Equestria and one of the most powerful confirmed beings in the known universe."
"Shut up!"
Everything after that point started happening in slow motion. At the same time the griffon reached for the knife on the table, the door was enveloped in a pale green light and started pushing inward. As the griffon jumped onto the table, knife at the ready, the breacher on point filed into the room. As the blade came within centimeters of her face, both it and the one holding it flew to side as a violet bolt of magic threw him out of the way. He landed in a pile on the floor, unconscious and beaten up, but alive.
The same magic that had saved her grasped the now-ownerless knife and cut off the restraints on her wings and hooves. It picked her up and placed her onto its owner's back, purple fur giving way to meet her. Her head rested in a midnight blue mane as the two of them were escorted out of the room, through a series of dugout tunnels, and into the open air. Spitfire winced as the harsh sunlight greeted her, momentarily blinding her before she had a chance to adapt. They walked through fiery ruins of what looked like a former checkpoint into the caves as a large, dual rotor helicopter landed a short ways away. She was put on top of a stretcher in the middle of the bay as several soldiers climbed in either side.
Twilight Sparkle took a seat right next to her, holding her hoof and weeping silently. Spitfire was in bad shape, with several bruises blemishing her fur. As the helicopter dusted off, the alicorn finally spoke to her. It was remarkably quiet in the bay, and they both could hear every word. "Spitfire, I need to know what happened in Nevskaya."
The words never really processed in the pegasus's mind. Instead, she only giggled a little, smiled, and said, "I love you so much," as she pulled her beloved into a deep, passionate kiss. It wouldn't be long before the painkillers the medic gave her kicked in, and she needed to get that out of the way.
When they did break apart, Spitfire was already asleep. It was all Twilight could do to simply say, "I love you, too," as they flew back to the carrier. Debriefing could wait. Right now, she was just happy to have her fiancée back.
02070012-0040H: Nightfall Lead (Ground Asset) relay Citadel (command asset)/// ::Citadel, this is Nightfall Lead! We've been pushed back to the city's power relay station and are about to be overrun! Operation: Dead Winds has failed to meet mission objectives and is moving to contingency six-zero: hostile forces must not be allowed possession of the Manaveil drive. We need to detonate, over!///
02070012-0042H: Citadel Direct (command asset) relay Nightfall Team (ground Asset)/// ::Damnit, Spitfire! You can't do that!
02070012-0043H: Nightfall Lead (Ground Asset) relay Citadel (command asset)/// ::My team knows what they signed up for, ma'am. There's no other way.
02070012-0044H: Citadel Direct (command asset) relay Nightfall Team (ground Asset)/// ::Don't you pull the ma'am card on me now, "Captain"! You promised me one thing! Do you remember what that was?
02070012-0046H: Nightfall Lead (Ground Asset) relay Citadel (command asset)/// ::I'm sorry, I can't ///break///
02070012-0046H: Citadel Direct (command asset) relay Nightfall Team (ground Asset)/// ::What was it?
02070012-0050H: Nightfall Lead (Ground Asset) relay Citadel (command asset)/// ::I'd come home.
02070012-0053H: Citadel Direct (command asset) relay Nightfall Team (ground Asset)/// ::Don't be sorry! Just hold out a little while longer! Reinforcements are coming!
02070012-0055H: Citadel Direct (command asset) relay Nightfall Team (ground Asset)/// ::Don't you dare detonate that ///break///
02070012-0056H: Nightfall Lead (Ground Asset) relay Citadel (command asset)/// ::I love you.
02070012-0058H: Citadel Direct (command asset) relay Nightfall Team (ground Asset)/// ::I love you too.
System error report: all communication status [blackout] in the vicinity of Canterlot City. Teams in the area run risk of high-level mana-radiation exposure. No further deployment recommended (overruled by authority Alpha, keystroke follows: [Princess Twilight Sparkle] That's my wife down there, you son of a bitch! I don't care what the "military recommendation" is, go find her!")
System error report: Communications in the vicinity of Canterlot reestablished after two-three mikes. Legion Flight Niner-Zero-Seven, callsign Gatekeeper, deployed with magical scanning equipment to look for any survivors from Operation: Dead Wind. Communications transcript excerpt follows:
02070012-0144H: Gatekeeper Lead (Flight Asset) relay Citadel (command asset)/// ::Citadel, this is Gatekeeper. We've finished our sweep over Impact Zero. MRI equipment was useless--the area's coated in some pretty dense radiation. No survivors located on visual scans. Mission parameters met. Advice course of action, over.
02070012-0145H: Citadel Direct (command asset) relay Nightfall Team (ground Asset)/// ::Gatekeeper, this is Citadel. There has to be someone down there. Keep looking, over.
02070012-0158H: Gatekeeper Lead (Flight Asset) relay Citadel (command asset)/// ::Citadel, this is Gatekeeper. We just finished our third pass over the city. No survivors.
02070012-0204H: Gatekeeper Lead (Flight Asset) relay Citadel (command asset)/// ::Citadel, this is Gatekeeper. Repeat: We just finished our third pass over the city. No survivors.
02070012-0204H: Citadel Direct (command asset) relay Nightfall Team (ground Asset)/// ::I know. Return to base at this time.
02070012-0205H: Gatekeeper Lead (Flight Asset) relay Citadel (command asset)/// ::Copy that. We are RTB at this time, out.
File notes: transcript files contain additional surveillance transcripts from ENS Solaris (PCV-1). As follows: Log (transcript): mission key NONE/Surveillance subjects: [Commandant] Celestia [Commandant] Luna/Date logged: 08230021-1624H/Location: ENS Solaris/Begin transcript follow/// 08230021-1624H: [commandant] Luna to [Commandant] Celestia/// ::I had no idea she lost so much.
08230021-1626H: [commandant] Luna to [Commandant] Celestia/// ::Is this why she refuses to talk about the war?
08230021-1627H: [commandant] Celestia to [camera]/// ::Kill the feeds.
///No non-classified information follows. File sealed by order of [redacted]. Clearance level: [redacted]. No access follows.///
Admittedly, it was neither the most comfortable position nor time to be doing any sort of physical training. Her mind broken down again and again by what seemed to be countless interrogations and debriefs, and Spitfire still found herself knocking out chin-up after chin-up using the iron bars serving as a makeshift window to her cramped cell. Her head repeatedly smacked the ceiling as a result, given that it could go through walls, but it was a work-out enough. All she'd be getting for a while, anyways.
The last few days had been repetitive, to say the least. Breakfast, interrogation, lunch, interrogation, dinner, training, rack, repeat. The majority of the time was spent in the five-by-five meter cell, where she would eat her meals (if they could be called that). It contained nothing of note, with only a single barred window in the ceiling, a lone bed with a paper thin mattress, and a small hole in the floor for... bodily functions. She would only leave under heavily armored escort, a bag over her head and Focal restraint on her wings for both sessions with her captors.
Everyone had questions for her that past week. Legion and Air Force investigators, Intelligence Service officials, some griffon diplomats. They all had some version of the same questions, and as such, some version of the same answer. Did you drop the bomb? Yes. Why? Orders. Do you know how many? Two thousand, five hundred six on last count before my detention. Probably more due to radiation exposure.
There was no hope at this point. She was the only one in the air, Soarin had vanished from the face of Equus, the mission recorder had been stolen, and no one had records of a callsign "Valkyrie", EIS Command. All evidence had been erased, and while they couldn't dismiss her guilt, the griffons were crying for blood. Much easier to lock her up and be done with it.
She only got halfway through her next rep before a voice interrupted her thoughts. "You have a visitor." She knew the voice well. Even if she hadn't known the unicorn, it would be impossible to forget the utter contempt he failed (or didn't try) to hide in his voice.
She stopped in that position for a second before lowering herself gently to the ground with her wings. It wasn't to often she got to stretch them these days, and it always felt pretty good. "I thought I didn't get visitors, Sergeant."
"You don't. This one outranks facility leadership."
It was always really funny to hear the lengths ponies here would go to to avoid using words like "prison" or "inmate". Spitfire was a "detainee" at "The Facility". Not funny enough to make it enjoyable, but humorous nevertheless. "A lot of ponies outrank facility leadership. You'll have to be more specific."
"Forward to the gate!" No such luck there. She guessed she'd just have to wait. Slowly, rebelliously, the pegasus turned and stepped towards her cell door. The Sergeant, always wearing his full ceramic riot gear, lit his horn and firmly secured the Focal around her right wing. "No bag this time. No sudden moves. No snide comments, or I take you back to your cell. This is a two-way trip: you are not to be released from custody today. Any attempts to breach your Focal restraint will be considered an act of aggression. If you run, I will taze you. If you try to fight, I will taze you. If you look too long in any direction except the one I tell you to, I will taze you. Do you understand?" The only surprise there was that they weren't going to blind her. Everything else was pretty standard procedure. Spitfire nodded slowly, and watched as her escort unlocked the door. "Follow my directions carefully. Forward."
"Enter." The final command was spoken as the Sergeant opened a stark white door with his magic, a blatant contrast to the concrete gray all around them. The trip had taken only a minute, and they'd only turned twice, but it felt like a lifetime since she'd seen anyone but guards, so the detainee she'd caught a glimpse of was a refreshing sight. Plus, a color that wasn't grey or sun! Happy day, indeed!
An even happier day when the door opened all the way, and on the other side stood a single table, two cushions, a one-way mirror, and a tall, beautiful, very pregnant alicorn. Nothing else was in the room, as her only guard was behind her, but nothing else mattered.
A much sadder day when Twilight's expression did not match her own. Her fiancée wore no glee, no pleasure on her muzzle, even while looking at Spitfire. Instead, she seemed locked in a perpetual state of indifference, as Spitfire had become accustomed to, living with a head of Equestria's civil courts. On a judge's throne, no bias could be spared. It spoke nothing but dread for the situation at had.
"Hello, Spitfire." Though the tone was cold, Twilight did let a small, barely noticeable smile onto her face. It had been far too long. "Take a seat, please?"
Spitfire obeyed, her smile never faltering as she did so. "I can't tell how happy I am to see..."
The royal raised a hoof. "I'm only here as your princess, here to gather facts as you present them. I can't come as your fiancée, not yet." The two took their seats, and Spitfire knew what this was. Those that would see her locked away for the rest of her life thought to use Twilight to draw out a more complete story from her. It wasn't going to work. On the other hoof, what if Twilight really did come here of her own volition? To hear her story? There was no way she was going to keep that from her. She couldn't.
"Let's start from the beginning," the princess said. This is it, Spitfire thought. The whole story. "What were you doing in Griffon Territory?"
The pegasus sighed, took a deep breath, and settled in. "Village Thirty-seven, as it was identified on field issue maps, was under EIS surveillance for quite some time. It was believed that a group of Griffon separatists had managed to illegally obtain a Harmony Drive, which they planned to detonate in a major city, killing thousands of innocent griffons. Soarin and I were called in as HAWCs to eliminate the threat: myself in the air and Soarin coordinating with a Legion Operations team on the ground to confirm destruction of the drive. It was being rigged with a detonator underground, so a stander anti-emplacement bomb wouldn't do. I would have to carry a fifty-pound warhead to the site to destroy it. The target flare came in on my HUD, and I lined up the bomb right at it. Ground assets confirmed that an EIS lead, callsign Valkyrie, marked the target, so we knew it was legit. One moment, I felt the bomb fall off my chestplate..." She paused for a few seconds, trying to make the words come out. "The next, it was all white. I was high enough up that I couldn't feel it, but I watched as the pressure wave forced its way through the village, burning and destroying anything in it's path. When it was done, all those houses, those griffons, were gone, replaced by a three-kilometer wide hole in the ground. Valkyrie came on my radio, told me 'Job well done, Hunter. Return to base.' I turned in my mission recorder on the carrier, where it later went missing. The team was gone, so no one could find any evidence of the operation--it was EIS's, so no Navy records. No witnesses. Just me and a lot of dead civilians."
Throughout it all, Twilight remained silent. They sat in silence for a minute or so before she spoke. "Does this conclude your story?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Noted. I believe you. So too, I think, does the majority of the Equestrian public. Diplomatic relations with the Griffons being what they are, I think we're all just looking for a scapegoat. I'm sorry it was you," she finished, reaching across the table to take Spitfire's hooves in her own. "I'll get you out of this."
The sentiment was short lived though, as the Sergeant took the pegasus's hooves in his magic (taking care to avoid touching Twilight's, of course) and putting them back on the ground. "Detainees are prohibited from engaging in physical contact with their visitors."
The royal gave an annoyed sigh before facing the intruding stallion. "Then leave us be. That's an order."
"I am an officer of martial law. I do not answer to your authority, Your Highness."
This didn't faze Twilight as much as Spitfire wouldn't thought. The alicorn had some pretty bad mood swings with a foal on the way, but it was lucky the Sergeant caught her on the high point. "Then I suggest you leave us be, without authority. Because I am going to kiss my fiancée, and you do not want to be caught in the middle of stopping me." The stallion made an audible swallowing noise, then took the hint, walking out of the room. "Finally, that's over with."
"I knew there was a reason I fell for you," Spitfire said in the most seductive tone she could manage, drawing out a fierce blush in her lover. "Before we get to that, though..."
"What is it?"
"Do you really still love me? After what I did, I mean. I don't know of many ponies who could still love a pony after she was responsible for the death of two thousand, five hundred six griffons."
Twilight was taken aback by this. "I can't say you're blameless here. But it's certainly not your fault. You were fed faulty intelligence by a corrupt source you had every reason to believe was legitimate. I don't blame you for what happened. I can't, knowing the facts. So of course I still love you. You're my fairy tale come true, remember?"
"Hell of a fairy tale, then. The Princess and the war criminal. You think it'd sell?"
"You plan on writing it?"
"Not much else to do here," Spitfire remarked, ending that thought. There was still another issue, but it could wait. In the midst of their talks, they had found themselves subconsciously standing up, walking to the side of the small table, and talking each other into a tight embrace, their voices reduced to a whisper. It was only after pulling away that the pegasus voiced her final concern. "I can't go back to the Air Force after this, you know. I can't go anywhere. And even if you can get me out, I'll never have anything left to give you. I don't want that life for you, or for..."
The pessimistic issue was interrupted by the long awaited kiss, with all the passion either pony could muster. It wasn't overly aggressive, nor was it just the two pressing lips together. It was the perfect feeling one that the lovers had always given each other in the darkest of times. It was their special kiss. Their "I'm always here" kiss. Their fairy tale ending.
As they pulled back, Twilight made it a point to whisper lovingly into Spitfire's ear one last motivation to put her fears to rest. "Starstreak will have two loving mothers, and I get the love of my life back. I couldn't ask for any more from you."
Of all the spells that Twilight knew, Magefire was not the most impressive. It was neither particularly difficult nor time consuming. It took little to no effort with only an hour of study and practice. When she got around to learning it, she filed it away in the back of her mind as knowledge that would likely never be used; to Twilight, however, useless knowledge was still knowledge, and therefore valuable. In almost seven years, she never gave the spell a second thought.
It wasn't until Rainbow Dash had inquired about a spectacle that she was planning for a Wonderbolts tour in Canterlot that she dusted off her memories of it and gave it a shot again. It was the ideal choice for what it needed to accomplish; it was simple to cast, it wouldn't go out until she put it out, and it could be altered into any color the choreographer so desired. The perfect trick. Plus, Pinkie had told her it would "further the plot".
Everypony in the stadium that day seemed to be rather taken by it, so Twilight was willing to admit that Pinkie was, as usual, probably right about that. One pony in particular was the most impressed. Or distracted, depending on who you asked.
Captain Spitfire of the Royal Equestrian Air Force, Thirty-Eighth Fighter Wing, HAWC Division, at the time assigned to a public show team, callsign "Wonderbolts", would be the first to tell anypony who so dared accuse her that she was not the type of pony who would, or even could, get distracted. Especially not during a show that she had personally scheduled to provide the greatest possible spectacle in the most wonderful of fashions for the birthday celebration of Princess Luna herself. Such an important occasion needed to be free of all flaws. In the air, there would be no compromises made to perfection. No distractions would be allowed.
Not even Princess Twilight Sparkle, turning the sky into impossible shades of every color of the rainbow. The air around her burned with colors she didn't have names for. Spitfire caught herself without breath, unable to begin to comprehend the sheer beauty of the way Twilight bent nature to her will. It was utterly magnificent, to the point that it achieved what many creatures around the world would have thought to be impossible.
The spectacle that night left Spitfire completely speechless.
In almost one-hundred combat missions, nopony saw the captain flinch. Over her career as the commanding officer assigned to the Wonderbolts show team, she'd always exemplified the unwavering spirit of the Air Force. She'd been attacked and harassed by fans, met with nobles and princesses, and personally saw to the training of hundreds of recruits who thought they had what it took to be Wonderbolts. Through countless trials and tribulations, Spitfire stood tall. She never stuttered or mumbled, never slouched, never compromised. Spitfire never broke.
Not until she met Princess Twilight Sparkle that fateful night. She'd met the princess a few times before, and seldom at her best. She was disrespectful to her station at Rainbow Falls, she was cold and distant at the Wonderbolts Academy. If she was one for poetry, she'd tell her children one day that it all made her see her princess in a new light, acknowledging the irony for herself. She was not, however, prone to poetry, so she'd end up calling the whole ordeal hot.
She stuttered when she approached the royal. She mumbled for a while about how beautiful the light show was. She stumbled through her greetings and partings, then tripped over a few drinks. It was probably the single most embarrassing conversation she'd ever had in her life. After all these years, she finally broke.
Imagine her surprise when Twilight wanted to talk to her again that night. She came to the bar, sat down, said hello, using her hoof to gently brush a few strands of hair away from her eyes. They talked, and with a few drinks in her, she finally opened up. The night went on, ponies went home, the castle staff cleaned up, but Twilight and Spitfire talked. Eventually, a guard came to kick Spitfire out of the ballroom. Twilight followed. They wound up in Twilight's quarters, unwilling for the night to come to an end.
They met later, again. They flirted and teased, then dated and courted. They fell in love, over years, and were to be wed, thanks to that fateful night.
Twilight forged their rings herself. Spitfire was a military pony, and thus couldn't wear the traditional hoof ring, so she made them as horn rings, tied around the chain on Spitfire's dogtags. She even went so far as to enchant each of them, something to show her wife how much she meant in her life. There was only one she had in mind.
Magefire would burn until she put it out. Magefire could burn in any and all colors, even autonomously. Possible most importantly, Magefire didn't give off heat; it pulsed, similar to a heartbeat. Long months, years apart, Twilight on diplomatic missions, Spitfire attending to her military duties. All they needed to do was hold their rings against their skin, and they wouldn't feel alone again.
And when Twilight held a ten-thousand year old ring in her hoof, it burned in the most glorious gold. It still pulsed, strong as any heartbeat. Above all, Spitfire's ring still burned, as it would, for eternity.
Twilight wanted to put it back in the jewelry box. She could put it back, go outside, and find her special somepony again. She kept saying she was going to propose that day. She just needed a reminder. Something to help her remember what true love felt like.
She didn't really need it. Alicorns don't really forget. But it was nice to feel it again. That sensation of her first love.
She smiled, and cried. With the soft push of her magic, she placed it back in the jewelry box, and let a single tear trail after it. Afterwards, she wiped her eyes with a hoof, and used her magic to reach into her beside table, withdrawing a small black velvet box.
He wasn't Spitfire, and that was okay. Twilight wouldn't forget, after all. But there were new memories to be had. Smiling broadly, she placed the box in her saddlebags and stepped out the door.
She owed Spitfire a lot. Thanks to her, Twilight Sparkle knew what love felt like. And thanks to Spitfire, she knew today was going to be a good day.
Admiral Full Steam said he could get this letter to you. I figured you deserved to know the whole story, not just what the higher-ups put into a mission report for you. It’s the least I could do.
If you’re wondering, we’ve never met. I’ve never even seen you in the flesh; just pictures. My name is Ensign Crystal Forceps. I’m a Navy Corpspony assigned to the 434th Marine Special Forces Reconnaissance brigade currently serving my first combat tour out in disputed Griffon territory.
On the evening of the twentieth of March, in an area we only ever called Forest 47, my platoon and I came under heavy attack by a group of local rebels we’d been trying to track back to their base of operations. They saw us coming, and before I knew it we had two dead and three injured; that was my fault. Being on point, I should have been more aware. More lives on my hand.
Several battlemages managed to clear the trees away from the ambush point as two Corpsponies dragged our casualties to a safe place. The rest of us took whatever cover we could behind the new clearing. These rebels were smart, though; they had several unicorns with them, as well. Using their own magic, they took the fallen trees and made themselves cover. Our pegasi couldn’t take off without exposing themselves to crossbow fire. Our unicorns couldn’t poke their horns up without taking countermagics. Our earth ponies couldn’t move without being torn to shreds. Lacking any other options, we radioed for air support.
The Thirty-Second High Altitude Warfare Wing, ponies most would know as Wonderbolts, was flying combat air patrol in our sector when the call came in. Thirty combat fliers, four Hummingbird tiltrotors, and two Forest Razer helicopters were standing by to bring the full might of the Equestrian Air Force upon our attackers. The Marine to my right was able to use his magic to throw a beacon on the enemy position. All things considered, it’s a miracle that it wasn’t shot out.
I heard the helicopters first. As I looked up, I was greeted by an amazing sight: a streak of orange fire blazing across the sky above our position. The first of the bombers had arrived. I don’t remember much after the first bomb fell. I remember screaming, blood, the smell of burning flesh. It was... not pleasant. Our Commanding officer told us that we had to push up; our clearing was the only place the Hummingbirds could land and get us all out of there. I offered to lead the charge, in an effort to avenge my fallen comrades. It was a foolish move. I’m not a leader. I know that. But I wasn’t thinking properly.
We took the clearing with minimal resistance. Most of the rebels had fallen back to the treeline after the first bomb. Under shieldspell cover, we began marking our position with flares for the choppers. By no fault of their own, somepony didn’t get the memo. I felt a light bomb strike, and thought that was it for me.
When I managed to open my eyes, I was being dragged along the ground, one missing hoof but otherwise intact. My rescuers were not to happy to see me awake, however. I saw a brief glimpse of steel, which I later learned was a combat knife. They were going to kill me right there before she showed up. Underneath all the armor, the wingsuit, the breathing mask and goggles, there was an airpony coming to save me. Your wife, I’m told. Major Spitfire. She killed one immediately with the impact, dragging the second straight into a large tree about three meters from our position. She checked neither body. Her immediate reaction was to turn to me and shout a single world.
“Run!”
I hesitated. I know I shouldn’t have left. As soon as she said that to me, the griffon came back with a right hooking, knocking her mask off her face. I didn’t think after that. I just ran. I was lucky enough to pick the right direction; I made it into a Hummingbird with seconds to spare. But I left her there. I left your wife to die in Forest 47.
Nopony can confirm her death yet. Just missing in action. I hope she’s alive, Princess. If you find her, and you can stand to look at me, I owe her my life, and I always pay my debts. No second thoughts, no hesitation. I’ll be a real sailor this time.
If you see it fit to lock me up for the rest of my days, then that is the price I pay for what I’ve done. I just thought you should learn it from somepony who was there.
Ensign Crystal Forceps
434th Marine Special Forces Reconnaissance Brigade,
Third Equestrian Fleet,
Equestrian Marine Corps, Equestrian Naval Service
Know that I will never forgive myself.
As much as she tried to distance herself from the horrors of her wife’s chosen profession, Twilight Sparkle wasn’t stupid. Her personal guard had once stood in front of her and pledged before the Songs themselves that they would each lay down their lives before any harm would come to Princess Twilight Sparkle. This was their duty. This was expected of them.
Spitfire once swore an oath to lay down her life for the Crown, as well. That was her duty, she said. It was expected of her, she said.
"You don't have to leave. You can retire, and stay here in Ponyville with me. Starstreak misses you."
Her last words to her wife were begging Spitfire to come home safe. Now she wasn't coming home at all. She gave her life to her duty. As was expected. This was the last of Twilight's letters from war.
It would be almost sixty years before she ever met Ensign Crystal Forceps, living out his days in a retirement home in Baltimare. She signed her name on his prosthetic. He barely spoke to her, only mumbling his requests forgiveness. He never got it.
Instead, he received the princess's thanks. Somepony made it out. Somepony made Spitfire's sacrifice worth it. She couldn't ask for a better lesson for her daughter. She couldn't ask for a better reason to dedicate the rest of her immortal lifetime to making sure nopony ever needed to give their lives again.
Often times, after all that happened, it would seem like I wasn't quite right for anypony. I fought, struggled against it. I wanted to get better, I really did. Not just for me; Twilight needed me to get better. They gave me a therapist; he seemed pretty nice. Like it wasn't just a paycheck to him. He really enjoyed his job. We talked about everything except that day; about Twilight, life in the castle, dating a princess. He'd tell some jokes, make me smile again. The one session Twilight came to, she couldn't stop telling him how much she'd missed my smile.
We talked for a time about reputation. Everypony has one, no matter how well-known. I had several. As the Captain of the Wonderbolts, I had a reputation for being strict, but fair. My ponies knew they could count on me for anything they needed that I could provide, so long as I knew I could count on them for the same. As a citizen of Cloudsdale, I had a reputation for making a habit of attending any and all charity events I could, schedule permitting. I'd frequently volunteer at homeless shelters, hospitals, blood drives, anywhere they could use an extra set of hooves; some ponies thought it was a publicity stunt, but I enjoyed helping, no matter how small my help was. As a citizen of Ponyville, it was much the same, though I'd gained a reputation for always doing these things with my tail wrapped around Equestria's cutest princess, too.
As a captain of the Royal Equestrian Air Force, I garnered my reputation for being calculating, cold, distant. I took little sympathy in the personal problems of my airponies until their concerns became the concerns of the company. In the Air Force, there isn't a "my problem", there's an "our problem". Beyond all else, however, I had a single reputation that I'd only recently grown to despise: I'd never lost a pony in the air. Every single member of my company came home. For seven years, I fought side-by-side with each and every one of them, and I made sure that everypony came home.
Everypony, save one.
I think that's what hit me hardest. Everything went wrong that day, I should have seen it coming. I woke up, I'd lost my wedding ring. I'd gone for chow, the coffee was cold. I went to retrieve my gear, my rank patches had been stolen. But, ever the loyal soldier, I marched on. It wasn't until we were already in the air that I had second thoughts about my mission that day.
I hear a firework go off in the distance, and instinctively shut my eyes even tighter. I feel a presence on my backside, drawing me closer. It's a tight embrace. I feel myself shaking in place, trying to block out the noise. Mortar-fired, I think. Eighty-four millimeter projectile, standard powder load. Probably rocket propelled. Anti-air weapon, need to bank! I open my eyes, staring back at the cold stone and grass below me. Another firework. Summer Sun Celebration. I'm still here, right?
"You should leave," I whisper. "You can still go." There isn't a response. I'm already struggling to get the word out. She's too stubborn for her own good. Stubbornness is why we're even here today. I told Soarin that those winds would put anti-air right in his path, but he either wouldn't listen or didn't care. Had to get the bomb on target, he said. Couldn't drop lower, would've gotten torn apart; couldn't go higher, wouldn't be able to see the target. So he flew on. The bomb released, he started banking up and to the left when the shell came up. Detonated maybe three or four meters away. Shrapnel tore through his wings. In shock, he fell unconscious.
"I won't be good to you like this. You should find somepony who can take care of you." I'm not even sure she heard me. She still doesn't say anything, never loosening her grip on my barrel. I want everything to be okay, I do. I want to move on. I want to be better. Not everypony has to stay broken.
I went into a nosedive almost immediately, trying to catch up. Dodging anti-air fire, I knew I wouldn't catch him. He hit the ground a full ten seconds before I landed next to him. The shell sent him into shock, tore at his wings. Even if he was awake, he couldn't fly. I couldn't catch him. I think I cried. I'm sure I screamed, I pleaded with Celestia herself to start the day over. I didn't hear any of it, though. I don't remember being there. I saw Soarin go down, then I woke up in the transport bay of a military airship over the Western Sea.
"You won't be happy with me. You deserve better than this."
I feel a pair of soft lips brush over my muzzle. Comforting. I fall into my wife's embrace, though I can't bring myself to return it. It all feels like if I take my hooves from the stone, it'll be forgotten. Worn down, broken with time. Like me. I know the tears stick to her coat, the salt matting the hair down at unnatural angles.
"I couldn't save him. I won't be able to save you. You deserve better."
We sit there, listening to the fireworks and my tears. I recoil at each blast, unwilling to open my eyes to confirm that I am indeed back on Equestrian soil. I simply replay that day in my head, over and over again, each time I hear the explosions. It must have been a half an hour before she finally spoke to me.
"I don't deserve anything, Spitfire." Why did she have to say that? After all she'd done, for Equestria, for me? If there was one thing Twilight Sparke deserved, it was somepony who could sit there with her and watch her fireworks. She deserved a special somepony who sit at a table that didn't have any chairs with their backs to hard surfaces. She deserved somepony who could cuddle in bed without being drenched in a cold sweat, plagued by nightmares that weren't going away. Twilight deserved somepony who wasn't this broken. "But I know what I want.
"Come home. Your daughter misses you. I miss you. I'm not going anywhere without you." I fell her lean over, an manage to open my eyes enough to see her laying a flower onto the stone. A dahlia, one I'd grown while trying my hoof at retirement. I didn't think any had survived. "I don't know what you want me to say. I know he was a friend. But I still need you."
I want to smile, to tell her I love her. I want to get up and go home. I want to take my daughter to school, and listen to the foals in the yard play to their hearts' content. I want a lot out of life.
I don't know if I'll ever have that again. I know I'll never be the same. Right now, I need time.
Twilight's patient. She seems willing to let me have it. I'll stop crying one day, maybe.
But I can't help but wonder how I deserved her at all.