In early Equestria, the pegasi cling to their traditions. Seeking a father for her foal for one of those traditions leads Pansy to consider her true feelings for Commander Hurricane, but she finds his emotions protected by armor nopony has pierced.
A decade after uniting with the other tribes under the banner of Equestria, there are some fading traditions that the warrior pegasi cling to. One of those is an honor foal for the most commendable female officers; an opportunity to bear a foal of their line while remaining counted as on duty, with full support of the tribe in its care and upbringing.
When Major Pansy is granted an honor foal, she sees it as a chance to offer the strength of her line to the future of Equestria, despite having let her service to tribe and country prevent her from ever having found a suitable mate. But she knows just the pony she wants for its father: a strong pony, a brave and skilled soldier, a wise commander, and the dearest of friends. Considering it, she may want even more from him than a sire for her foal.
But Commander Hurricane has always protected his emotions with a stony mask and an armor constructed so that nopony can pierce it. Especially not the one pony he holds above all others in his esteem: the hopeless soldier who once stood before him for discharge with the true spirit of a pegasus shining through her.
Commander Hurricane peered over the scroll in front of him at the pale blue mare standing at attention in front of his desk. She was young, three months out of the Academy, but she stood in perfect form and frozen like a statue. This was a pony who’d practiced.
It was a shame.
“Private Pansy. Your commanding officer strongly recommends I discharge you without honor or quarter.” He kept his own face even as he said it, to keep the pity he felt from showing.
“Yes, Sir.” Not a twitch of emotion crossed her face, but her eyes focused in the distance for a moment.
Hurricane had been Commander of the pegasi for a year now, but despite the weathered look that came naturally to his grey face he knew too well he was young and fresh for his position, and there was still nothing he liked less than sentencing ponies to the ground. It was made worse by the look of the mare: lithe and delicate, with large purple eyes and a cropped white mane, but every inch of her full of the pride of a pegasus. If discharge from the troops wasn’t enough to break her, a lifetime on the ground, being called ‘featherbrain’ and taking odd jobs and scraps from a mud pony or stick head ought to do the job.
“Your mother was General Springwind?” He frowned at Pansy, narrowing his eyes. He’d fought the griffons under Springwind years ago, not long before she fell in battle. She was made of the finest feathers.
“Yes, Sir. I’m her honor foal, Sir.” She closed her eyes, then opened them quickly. Too long for a blink from a pony of her precision, but close enough that he wouldn’t blame her.
Hurricane nodded. “That’s the reason you’re in front of me, instead of on the ground already.” He looked her in the eye. “The only reason. The scroll from Captain Lancer says that you disobeyed orders, failed to follow procedure, never completed required training, and demoralized the troop.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, holding eye contact.
He leaned back in his chair, and set the scroll with the captain's account on the table in front of him. “Explain.”
“Yes, Sir.” She began in a clear, even voice, “We were on patrol over Hoof Road, ten miles from Girthshire limits. A caravan of earth ponies was camped below. When we approached they were unfriendly, and exchanged words with Captain Lancer. Captain Lancer ordered us into formation. I obeyed, and then he asked the earth ponies for the standard toll of passage, and they refused. He ordered us to ready spears…” She paused and took a deep breath.
“I didn’t. It was clear to me that they were traders, and no threat to us. I called out to request permission to speak with them and try to negotiate. He declined, so I—” She swallowed, but her voice remained steady as she went on, “I landed. I asked them what they could offer, as they were in Hippocampus and we had a right to demand a toll. I negotiated for half of the standard, so long as they packed their camp and left for Girthshire immediately.”
He raised his eyebrows at her. “You disrespected your commanding officer and dishonored your post for a caravan of rowdy mud ponies?”
Her cheeks colored, the only sign of emotion through her bearing. “Yes, Sir. I didn’t want it to come to bloodshed. They were hostile, but unarmed and no threat to us.”
Hurricane frowned with his most disapproving glare, reserved for troops who felt themselves above the command structure. “That was up to Captain Lancer’s judgement.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t to save yourself from embarrassment?” He tapped the scroll on his desk with the tip of a hoof. “This failure to complete required training says that you can’t hit a target with a spear at twenty feet.”
“Yes, Sir. I can’t hit a target. But my troop knows that well, there would have been no fresh embarrassment from their seeing it.”
Another piece fell into place and he nodded. “I’d imagine the demoralization charge stems from your fellow soldiers displaying just how well they know your incompetence?”
She didn’t hesitate in responding, “I couldn’t make that determination, Sir.”
“Do they taunt you about it?”
“They’re soldiers, Sir.”
“Are you hurt by it?”
“I’m a soldier, Sir.”
Hurricane gave a derisive snort. “A soldier who disobeys orders when she feels like it.”
She made no response, and he sighed. “I could discharge you, but it looks to me like you simply don’t have the stomach for combat. You’re lucky, in a battle you would have gotten ponies killed, but instead you just got to show your worth.” He reached for a fresh scroll and a quill. “I’m going to transfer you to the Weather Corps.”
She spoke up, clear and sure, “Then with all due respect to you and my tribe, Sir, I must resign all rank.”
His eyes narrowed as his head snapped up to look at her, wondering how he’d misjudged her. Resignation of all rank would invoke the same exile as discharge. But she remained at attention, her face impassive and betraying nothing.
“Resign? Why?”
“I’m a soldier, Sir.”
Hurricane relaxed. Not a lack of honor, but an unfortunate misplacement. She needed to be brought back to the clouds. “There’s a troop of ponies out there who tell a different story.”
“Doesn’t matter, Sir.”
Hurricane rolled his eyes, then his eyes landed on her cutie mark; a sun half blocked by a cloud. “What does your cutie mark mean, Private?”
“That I can find the balance between sun and clouds, Sir.”
“It would seem to me a good cutie mark for the Weather Corps,” he pointed out with a frown.
“No, Sir. It’s the cutie mark of a soldier, Sir.”
He tilted his head, his brow furrowed. “How so?”
“Because a soldier has to be able to find balance, Sir. They have to know their weaknesses and their strengths, and those of the ponies around them. They have to be fierce but tactical, strong but flexible, and noble in both victory and defeat. I know I can bring that to my troop, Sir.”
Hurricane stared at her. “You are determined, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said with a firm nod.
“Why?” he asked, looking into her purple eyes for the force that would drive a pony so obviously unsuited to the life of a soldier to choose exile rather than a step down.
She returned his stare without blinking and answered simply, “Because I’m a pegasus, Sir.”
For a moment, Hurricane felt the full weight of the truth in those words beyond wings or magic. He knew he was looking at pony with a soul forged to tame thunder and lightning, to fly straight and true no matter the gale, to offer her life and death to other ponies without a second thought.
He had dedicated his life and all of his energy to his tribe, and he felt like for the first time, before him stood a pegasus.
And somewhere deep inside, he had the very uncomfortable feeling that she outranked him.
“You are,” he said softly. He cleared his throat and unfurled the blank scroll. “Well then, Private, let’s see how you perform in my honor guard.”
She blinked in wonder. “...Sir?”
“You may have heard that my troop is the toughest posting there is. That I drill more often than any other and expect every skill to be mastered. That my soldiers eat, sleep, and breathe when I tell them. That when there’s fighting I assign them to the thick of the fray. And that I don’t tolerate soldiers who can’t keep up.”
Hurricane looked her in the eye. “You have no blasted idea, Private. You are going to work twice as hard for me as you’ve worked in your life, and if you so much as think about disobeying my orders, there won’t be any offer of Weather Corps. You will be discharged without honor or quarter. So if Weather Corps is sounding more reasonable right about now, you had better speak up.”
She didn’t say a word. He didn’t expect her to.
He nodded. “Very well. I’m told you have the cutie mark of a soldier, and so a soldier you shall be. Move your things to the eastern barracks, and meet me at the drill clouds at three o’clock.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Dismissed.”
She flew out of the room quickly. Hurricane just sighed and took up the quill in his mouth, staring at the blank scroll in front of him. In his head, the voices of every commanding officer he’d ever served under—voices of hundreds of years of experience, tradition, and expectation—berated him for this moment of weakness.
The generals of Senior Command would have questions, and he had no answers. Well, except for the easy one that he was the stars-damned Commander and they could kiss his tail.
But he had the vision of the pegasus mare standing at perfect attention burned in his mind, so he quickly wrote and signed the order for her transfer.
The Senior Command building floated over the forest to the North of Everfree, and the other cloud buildings of the pegasi floated around it. The tribe had undergone sky shattering changes since Equestria had been founded a decade ago, but the princesses allowed the pegasi to maintain command of the military, scouting and exploration, and the Weather Corps under their traditional structure and the trusted management of Commander Hurricane.
Hurricane had been in that cave where Equestria was born, he saw the way the winds were blowing, and knew the old order was coming to an end. He listened carefully to Smart Cookie and Clover, and most especially to Pansy. Even as his own urges were for the things he knew and trusted, the things his compatriots in Senior Command tried to demand, Pansy balanced respect for tradition and pride in their tribe with practicality and compassion for all ponies. It was a better way, even if it meant that a spear had to be driven through the heart of some of their more harmful rules and traditions, and it was Hurricane’s job to wield that spear.
At least there was some comfort in the parts of the old ways that remained, however unnecessary and ridiculous they might appear to the other tribes. These were the things that had built the strength of the pegasi, and though he knew they’d be lost someday, it wouldn’t be on his watch.
He stood behind his desk in his office, a small smile on his face at Pansy standing at attention on the other side, her head high and expression even.
“Major Pansy, it’s my honor to inform you that Senior Command would like to formally request that you bear a foal on behalf of the pegasi. This request is made with the deepest respect, and your decision on the matter will never be questioned, and will not affect your career in any way.” He paused the traditional address and added his own promise, as he had to every mare he’d given it to, “You can be damned sure of that.”
“Yes, Commander.” Pansy’s eyes shone with pride, and the hint of a smile played on her lips.
He nodded and went on, “The request has been added to your records, and if you’d like it made public it can be read at the next commendation ceremony. And any foal you bear will be welcome at the Officer’s Nursery, and receive automatic entrance to the Academy.”
She gave a small nod. “Thank you, Sir.”
“At ease,” he said, sitting down behind his desk.
Pansy relaxed, her face brightening with a smile, restrained and calm but genuine.
It made Hurricane smile as well. “I’m glad you’re pleased. I know this commendation won’t last much longer, it’s a bit pointless these days. But I knew you’d take it as intended. You were an honor foal yourself, after all.”
“We both know I never would have gotten into the Academy, otherwise,” she said with a small smirk.
“Well, maybe there’s some merit to the idea.” He chuckled and leaned back against his chair.
Pansy nodded. “There may be. I’m considering it.”
Hurricane raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Are you, now? An unmarried mare looking for a sire isn’t as common as it used to be.”
She shrugged and brushed back a piece of her cropped mane that had fallen against her cheek. “As you said, I was an honor foal. Even if keeping the tribe strong isn’t as important, I’d like to provide a foal of my line for Equestria’s future. I’m never going to marry at this rate, but between maternity duty and the nursery...”
Hurricane studied her. Gentle in her gestures, calm and quiet in her speech, with a slender body that could never build muscle; in some ways, she was the worst soldier he’d ever allowed to remain. But those were the old ways.
Just as familiar was the firm set of her jaw, her proud posture, and her big, purple eyes that seemed to flash like lightning when she entered a battle, whether of words or spears. Those were the things that would make future generations of pegasi strong, and those pegasi would keep Equestria strong.
Deep inside, he knew that he had hoped to see her bear a foal that might equal its mother, but he kept his face even and nodded.
“Congratulations, whatever you decide.”
Pansy smiled. “Thank you.”
Clearing his throat, Hurricane looked down at her record again. “Do you want it announced?”
She shook her head, a blush coloring her cheeks. “No. That won’t be necessary. Though I’ll be telling our friends.”
“Of course.” Hurricane gave a snort and half muttered, “I’m sure Cookie will have a thing or two to say.”
Pansy nodded with a knowing smirk. “He always does, but I don’t mind it. When his complaints have merit, we should hear them. When they don’t… well, he’ll make sure we hear them, but we can dismiss them as we please.”
“You have far more patience with that than I do,” Hurricane said, shaking his head.
“While you have far more patience with Senior Command.” Pansy paused and tilted her head with a fond smile. “I know whose idea my commendation was, you know. And I know that not everypony was happy with it.”
Hurricane rolled his eyes. “I’ve yet to see a pony suggest something that all of Senior Command was happy with, and if they sent it to me I’d toss the scroll out the window for fear of a curse.”
She nodded with the same smile. “So you argued on my behalf.”
“I had help. Ponies can see how well you represent the tribe.” Hurricane offered a grim smile. “Perhaps someday Senior Command will be half as worthy as you make them seem to Princess Celestia.”
Pansy gave a soft laugh. “So long as you see it, and the princess sees your worth as our commander, I’m content. And I know both of those things are certain.”
Hurricane nodded to her. “I hope they are. And I hope you are content. Take pride in your commendation, it’s more than earned.”
“Thank you, Sir. I’m honored.” She paused a moment and looked out the window. “But I’m afraid I really should be getting back to work. I still need to check in with the Weather Corps to see if there’s anything they need us to bring before the princess this week.”
Hurricane glanced at the pile of reports on his desk. “I have plenty to do myself. Dismissed, as you please.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Pansy turned around and walked out, saying over her shoulder, “Have a pleasant day.”
As the door closed behind her, Hurricane sighed and stared at the space she’d left behind.
Pansy had been right, there were a few generals who strongly objected to her being granted an honor foal. Their resistance was easily overcome, as they had been soldiers long enough to know that annoying a commander was a good way to get assigned to clean pigeon droppings off the stonework of the Castle of the Two Sisters. He had to guess it was mostly on principle these days anyway; contrary to popular belief among the troops, none of Senior Command was senile enough to think this was Hippocampus.
But he had been honest as well; there were more voices than his on her behalf. With each passing year more ponies settled down, finding reasons to appreciate Pansy’s tireless efforts at organization and diplomacy both among her own troops and between the tribes and the princesses. As set in their ways as old soldiers could be, they were beginning to see that if the pegasi were to continue to prosper in Equestria, they were going to need more like Pansy.
Hurricane looked down at the scroll on his desk, the traditional commendation meant to keep the pegasus tribe strong. He sighed as he rolled it up and set it aside, knowing he’d done his duty as best he could, and the rest was with the stars.
It was an hour until dawn when Pansy landed on the cloud at the spear range. Commander Hurricane was already there waiting.
She snapped to attention, and Hurricane stared at her and gave a nod.
“Begin when ready, Private.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Pansy knew what was coming as she picked up the first heavy, iron-tipped spear and threw it. It landed harmlessly on the cloud, several feet short of the target. She drew a breath and picked up the second. There was going to be failure and pain, just like every morning. She knew that, but she couldn’t fear it. All she feared was that today the Commander would say no.
After her first month in Hurricane’s troop, he seemed to realize that she would never be able to hit a target, so he’d set her this test: Fifty spears, and she had to hit the target just once, or she would be dishonorably discharged.
That day she had met him before dawn, just like this morning, as the first light made the targets visible, and she threw each of the fifty spears. After ten spears her foreleg started to ache. After twenty five her leg was burning and her face was locked in a grimace of pain. By forty her foreleg trembled, she barely had the strength to lift the spears and when she threw them they landed directly in front of her.
But she threw them all, and not a single one hit.
She couldn’t put weight on her foreleg, and she didn’t care. She would have to leave Hippocampus, dishonored and humiliated. She would have to find a place among the earth ponies or unicorns, enduring their taunts and contempt, knowing that her own tribe felt the same way about her.
Commander Hurricane just stared at her, his face expressionless. There wasn’t a hint of pity or sympathy. But there was no hint of disgust or scorn, either. Whatever was behind that mask was her only hope.
As the sun rose over the horizon, she turned, saluted Commander Hurricane, and asked “Sir, may I try again tomorrow?”
He stared at her for a very long time, then nodded and flew away, leaving her to gather the spears.
That was four months ago. Each day, for four months, she threw fifty spears.
She had been throwing spears since she was in Academy, she was already in peak physical condition, there was no strength left to build. She knew that it was physically impossible for her, that the failure and pain were inevitable. She knew that eventually, sooner rather than later, she was going to permanently injure herself.
She knew that Commander Hurricane knew it too. This was torture; he never would have considered doing this to an enemy prisoner. But each day Pansy woke up and flew to the range. And each day she asked for another.
“Commander, Sir, may I try again tomorrow?” she asked again that day, standing at attention, her foreleg throbbing.
Commander Hurricane looked at her for longer than usual, and she felt tears stinging her eyes, but she’d never show them. Nothing but the same blank face the commander wore.
Finally, he sighed. “Private. I offered you a chance. Fifty spears. You’ve thrown more than fifty spears now.”
She swallowed. “Six thousand, one hundred, Sir.”
“Six thousand spears,” he said slowly.
“Yes, Sir.”
The commander shook his head. “Private, answer me honestly. If I allow you to try again tomorrow, do you think you’re going to hit a target?”
She wasn’t sure she could speak without crying, but she had to. She forced the answer out as quickly as she could. “No, Sir.”
He looked her in the eye. “Then why should I let you try?”
Pansy wished she had something better to offer as a response, but she had only the truth. “Because I’ll do the rest of my duties today, and I’ll be here tomorrow, Sir.”
Commander Hurricane looked at her a moment longer and frowned. “What do you plan to do if we go into battle, Private?”
“Fight, Sir.”
He looked at the spears scattered across the clouds, then back at her. “With what?”
“A sling, Sir,” Pansy offered.
He gave a derisive snort. “You’re just barely competent, and that’s your best weapon.”
“Then I shall fight with whatever’s in my hooves, Sir.” She took a deep breath and added, “With all due respect, Sir, I know how to fight. I just can’t throw a spear.”
“At ease, Private.”
Pansy barely moved. She couldn’t tell if it was because her position seemed to offer some form of protection or because the tension in her body wouldn’t allow it.
“Now, explain to me why you’re wasting our time and your talents here,” the commander said, rubbing a hoof over his face.
Pansy looked him in the eye and spoke from her heart. “Because this is what I care about, Sir. It’s all I care about. This is the heart of our tribe; even when we have no battles to fight, everything we do, everything we are comes from our warriors. Who those warriors are is who the pegasi are, and I know in my heart, and in my destiny, that I’m one of them.”
Commander Hurricane raised an eyebrow. “It might have been kinder for destiny to give you the ability to throw a spear, in that case.”
Pansy swallowed and nodded. “I know that better than anypony, Sir.”
He shook his head and sighed. “Destiny can be a son of a crow sometimes.”
“Yes, Sir.”
They were silent for several minutes that seemed like hours. Pansy’s heart begged the stars and the winds and the spirits of every pegasus in her line that Hurricane would allow her another chance to fight through the pain and humiliation of the morning.
Finally, he spoke. “Tomorrow morning, report for duty with the rest of the troop.”
Pansy snapped a salute on instinct, her heart soaring. “Yes, Sir.”
Commander Hurricane turned to leave without looking at her. “You’re dismissed. Go get breakfast.”
Pansy happily avoided lunch at the officer’s mess, instead sitting in front of a table full of sandwiches made from thick, hearty earth pony bread in a cluttered apartment over a haberdashery. Smart Cookie had invited her and Clover for lunch, and while the pegasi had many fine qualities, Cookie’s apartment was superior in both food and company.
Clover lay with her blue mage’s robes puddled around her green body on a floor pillow, her sandwich on a plate next to her and her tea held in her magic, while Pansy perched on the shabby couch that Cookie always said he would replace but never did.
Cookie occupied another floor pillow, but since Pansy’s news his beige body sat fully upright, his tea and lunch seemingly forgotten as he looked at her in confusion. “So they want you to bear a foal because…?”
“My career has been exemplary, and they want more pegasi like me,” Pansy explained with a small smile she couldn’t contain. She never thought she’d speak those words.
Clover cocked her head to one side. “Your career has been exemplary? Do they think spontaneous magic might run in your family?”
Raising an eyebrow, Pansy took a sip of tea. “I have done a lot for the military since then.”
Cookie wrinkled his muzzle. “So they just… breed the pegasi they want?”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “I’m not being ordered to breed, I’m being offered an opportunity, if I want it.”
“If you wanted to, you could have had a foal before this,” Cookie paused and eyed Pansy. “Right?”
Pansy nodded. “In a way…”
“In what way couldn’t you have?” Cookie’s eyes were fully narrowed now. She knew he cared deeply about the freedom of individual ponies and remained deeply suspicious of the traditional pegasus hierarchy, willing to believe it guilty of the most outlandish controls over her life.
She shook her head at Cookie and explained, “Well, I would have had to take leave. It would certainly have been granted, and I wouldn’t have been penalised, but I might have missed out on assignments and chances to advance. Most ponies who reach my rank are soldiers first and always.”
“And those are the ponies pegasus Senior Command wants more of, so they turn it into a commendation to earn.” Clover smirked at Cookie and took a bite of her sandwich, continuing with her mouth full, “It’s brilliant, in a mad way.”
“It’s our way.” Pansy gave Clover a look of gentle reproach. “If I decided to have an honor foal, while I carry it and recover I would be considered still on active duty, and even eligible for promotion if it came up during that time. And when the foal is born there’s a nursery that will take care of the foal as often as I need, even during deployment if necessary.”
“What about families?” Cookie asked with a frown. “I mean, I hate to be rude, but if you’re too dedicated to take the time to bear a foal without permission, and you have no husband, how in the name of the stars can a mare in your position provide one?”
She shrugged. “We know our lineages, but actually living with a family isn’t always possible, so we don’t think much of it. Soldiers, scouts, and weather ponies are all still deployed frequently, and in the past many ponies didn’t return. The ponies who run the nursery are very caring, it’s their duty. They’re raising the future of the tribe, they give all that they can just like everypony else.”
Cookie snorted and picked up his tea. “I’m sure the hundred and fifteenth griffon war over a particularly advantageous piece of rock was well worth abandoning and orphaning foals.”
Pansy looked at him pointedly and took a sip from her cup. “Had we remained closer to Hippocampus, we would have had 50,000 armed and trained soldiers sitting next to Girthshire.”
Cookie stared at her for a moment, then frowned in thought. “...you would have only needed a quarter of that.”
She gave a nod. “We needed more if we wanted to fight the griffons instead.”
Clover rolled her eyes. “Did you ever consider… not fighting?”
Pansy gestured to the window. “We’re trying it now. It’s hard for some of us. It’s what we were raised to do.”
“And bred for, as it turns out,” Cookie added.
Clover frowned in thought. “Does Princess Celestia know about this, Cookie?”
“She’s going to tonight.” He settled on his cushion took a sip of tea.
Pansy frowned at him. He’d been Princess Celestia’s unofficial consort for years now, and everypony was of the opinion that she had remained even and unbiased in her rule, but Pansy didn’t exactly have faith in Cookie to paint her tribe’s traditions in the best light.
He shook his head and offered Pansy a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure nothing will come of it soon. Each tribe has traditions Celestia isn’t comfortable with, but she prefers to be careful about dismantling them given how young this experiment is. She has a longer view than we do… she’s to select Hurricane's replacement when he retires and all the commanders after that, so it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if they become less traditionalist over the next few centuries, especially in areas she’s not fond of. But for now, I suspect she’ll find this madness harmless enough.”
“We’ve already made tremendous progress, you know.” Pansy frowned in thought, looking at her friends. “I don’t think the other tribes realized what it was like. I know you all thought we were a bit obsessed with our ranks, and following orders from Senior Command, but things like a pegasus living on the ground and working outside command structure used to be considered dishonorable enough that we were hardly allowed to speak with the ponies. Now there’s that whole stretch from Wing Street to General Road full of pegasi, and half my division lives there alongside independent businesses.”
Clover smiled and motioned towards Pansy. “And who was the first officer to give permission for that?”
Pansy returned the smile. “Most of Senior Command hated it, but Commander Hurricane signed my waivers without question. He does deserve credit as well.”
Cookie nodded. “He does, and he seems to be breeding for intelligence and compassion these days, so I shall give you both your due.”
“So are you going to do it?” Clover asked, then took a sip of her tea.
Pansy blushed. “I’d like to. I was an honor foal myself, and it would be a shame for a successful line to end because I’ve never focused on my lovelife.”
“You’d need to find a stallion,” Cookie pointed out. “Unless pegasi grant that as a commendation as well.”
She shot Cookie a look. “We do not. And that’s where the hesitation comes in. I’m not looking for a stallion to court; I’m happy focusing on my career. If I had a foal I’d probably let it stay in the nursery, so I’d just want to find a stallion who might contribute to making a strong, healthy foal.”
Clover grinned. “So you're looking for breeding stock. Is there a market or fair where you can shop for a stud?”
Pansy sighed. “It would be easier if there were. It’s not as common for single mares these days, but most stallions do consider it an honor to be asked, even if they aren’t interested.”
“I suppose I wouldn’t be terribly insulted if a mare suggested I was a fine specimen of stallionhood and wanted to carry my foal,” Cookie said, considering. “I’d think she was utterly mad, but I wouldn’t hold it against her.”
Clover raised an eyebrow at Cookie with a suggestive smirk.
Cookie raised his eyebrows in response. “...in any way, thank you.”
Chuckling, Clover leaned over to pat his hoof. “Trust us Cookie, nopony but Princess Celestia might mistake you for a fine specimen of stallionhood.” She shook her head and turned back to Pansy. “So have you seen any likely specimens?”
Pansy looked down at her tea and took a deep breath. “I intend to ask the commander.”
“Stars above,” Clover muttered, her eyes growing wide.
Cookie cleared his throat and set down his teacup slowly in shock. “Am I missing something, or does this require you to have… relations with Hurricane?”
Pansy gave him a mild look and took a sip of tea. “It is usually how you produce a foal.”
“Relations. With Hurricane.” Cookie frowned.
Clover rolled her eyes. “She’s not suggesting that you have them. If she finds him attractive enough...”
“How can anypony find him attractive?” Cookie gaped. “He has two facial expressions: scowl, and deep scowl.”
“I’m not concerned with whether he’s attractive,” Pansy said with a glare at Cookie. “I work with dozens of stallions, and I know of none that are his equal in strength, talent, honor, compassion--”
“Compassion?” Cookie snorted. “The only reason he hasn’t murdered any of us is that it’s not worth his effort.”
Pansy frowned. “That’s not true.”
Cookie nodded. “You’re right. He’s also a bit scared of Clover.”
“Only had to threaten to turn him into a toad once,” Clover said with a smirk.
Pansy shook her head. “You know he loves us all.”
“He does, without a doubt. He’s just…” Cookie motioned with a hoof. “Stars above, he’s Hurricane! I can’t imagine the pony bedding a mare with anything but emotionless military precision, and believe me I don’t want to be imagining that.”
“Well that’s all I require.” She took a sip of tea, then she went on in a firm voice, “But I do think there’s more to him than you see. Nopony could love his friends or tribe as fiercely as he does and not have some reserve of passion.”
Clover's mouth twisted in consideration. “I could see it, honestly. Remember, Cookie, he’s a soldier like Pansy. We know Pansy feels far more than she shows us because she’s opened up to us before. Stars know what emotions Hurricane’s got under his armor.”
“That’s fair.” Cookie smirked. “Perhaps Hurricane keeps scrolls full of poetry under his pillow. I am content to let the full range of things under Hurricane’s armor remain a mystery, though I wish Pansy luck in discovering them.”
***
It was nearly two o’clock, and Pansy knew she would find the commander in the drill sky. He took exactly one hour each day to maintain his own training in flight form and weapons, despite it becoming increasingly unlikely that he’d ever see battle again.
She landed on a cloud and spotted him easily, practicing flight forms above her. He was a large stallion, and the most powerful charges and dives looked beautiful when he flew them, a perfect marriage of form and function.
But what always made Pansy smile in appreciation was the grace in his precision. The sharp turns, controlled banks, and dive recoveries that seemed to come naturally as he flew, despite logic and experience telling her that he was fighting a battle against the sky with each one. That could only come from a lifetime of work, of dedication to perfecting his skills for no reason but the pride of having done so.
There had been reason early in his career, when Hurricane had seen battle after battle. That precision and control would have allowed him to fly with his troop, each pony sure in the position of everypony else as they enacted evasive maneuvers or drew attention to protect others. By the time he was made commander, Hurricane had spent more time in battle than ponies twice his age, displaying bravery, tactical brilliance, and deadly skill that allowed him to move up the ranks with the same ease and grace he moved through the sky. Few dared to grumble, even when he was appointed commander over older generals who seemed in line; his record had been short, but it had been packed full of honors and what was there was beyond reproach.
Pansy smiled at a memory; if there were a few grumbles, none had been heard at Academy, where she had been a cadet at the time. Hurricane cut a dashing figure that appealed to young soldiers. There wasn’t a cadet who wouldn’t have eagerly followed him to battle, and few mares didn't hope to catch his eye and share his bed, in marriage or otherwise.
For the first time, Pansy seriously considered sharing his bed. It brought a blush to her cheeks, but it was a real possibility that would have to be faced.
She would never have claimed he was handsome. His grey face had a look of rough stone about it, and thinking of his expressions, Cookie’s estimation had been fair—he rarely smiled, and as long as she had known him there had been the look of an old soldier behind it when he did, always in the shadow of memories and experience that weighed on the joy. But she was fond of his smile nonetheless, those shadows lent it wisdom and if it was harder won than most it was all the more dear to her.
As to his form, even well into middle age he was the picture of fitness, but it didn’t speak of a lover. His size and color made him seem solid, and he stood with military stiffness that gave him the look of a statue, hard and unmoving. Once again, though, Pansy didn’t find it at all distasteful; he displayed the strength and discipline of a warrior, and her admiration for that colored her thoughts.
The more she thought about it, the deeper her blush grew. She had known Hurricane for years, as a commanding officer, a fellow member of the council, and a dear friend. She was well aware of his many flaws, but she had developed a respect for him so deep that she didn’t know words to describe it. On consideration, that respect seemed to invade every aspect of him, turning his honor, bravery, and discipline into a physical form that could be touched and smelled and tasted, and that ran through her like a shiver.
“Major.” Commander Hurricane gave a casual nod as he landed next to her.
“Commander. Sir.” Pansy’s eyes grew wide, but she swallowed and steadied herself, her even military expression falling over her face. She reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a scroll. “Cookie gave me the itinerary for the council meeting, I wasn’t sure if there was anything you wanted to discuss with Senior Command.”
“I’ll look it over,” Hurricane said as he took the scroll from her. He walked over a few steps to his own saddlebag and placed it inside, then pulled out a cloth and began wiping the sweat and dew that had collected on his coat.
Pansy looked over his shoulder, avoiding watching him directly. “I’ve already spoken to Captain Compass Rose about surveying the road to the Canterlot mines. She thinks we should collaborate with the earth ponies on it, or there’s going to be another tangle.”
“Let’s see if we can get Princess Celestia to put that under our charge.” He rolled his eyes and tossed the cloth back in his bag. “If we leave them be, the Mason’s Guild might finish the paving before the stars fall, but it’s doubtful.”
Hoping she was safe now, Pansy cast a sideways glance at the commander, even dropping her mask to purse her lips. “Cookie and Puddinghead won’t like it, but let me fight it out with them at the table. The three of you will just end up shouting at each other. The princess will hear me, and I’m sure she’ll see reason.”
He glared briefly, then gave a begrudging nod. “Very well.”
“There’s also an item about engaging the Diamond Dog colonies… I know you’ll be for it, but I should warn you that I’ll have to respectfully disagree.” She gave an apologetic frown. “We’d be at a severe disadvantage fighting in their holes, and while it might be nice to have access to those mines, we’ve got more than enough elsewhere.”
Hurricane crossed his forelegs and raised his eyebrows at her. “Those are Equestria’s mines…”
Pansy raised her eyebrows back. “Only because we drew a map around them. The dogs were there first. And they seem content to allow us to do what we like above ground.”
“‘Content to allow us’?” he said slowly, his expression unchanged.
“I understand, Sir, but it’s my opinion that this is best.” Pansy shrugged with a wan smile. “I’d imagine Platinum will support you.”
He stared at her for a moment, then offered a smile in return. “It’s Princess Celestia’s decision. She’ll hear from all of us.”
Pansy nodded. “She will.”
“Any chance this will be a short one?” He walked over and took up his saddlebag with a glance back at Pansy.
She smirked and shook her head. “Not a chance in Tartarus. I’m going to visit the mess hall first, we won’t be in the kitchens until midnight.”
“I’ll join you, we can fly together.” He walked across the cloud to her and offered a nudge. “At least the company won’t be stale.”
The feeling of his shoulder against hers brought back to mind all that she had been thinking earlier, and a blush rose to her cheeks. She stepped to the side quickly and offered a nervous smile and a curt nod.
“I look forward to it as well. But I’d better get going, I’ve got scrolls to write up.”
“Don't let me keep you,” Hurricane said, turning to take off towards the Senior Command building. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Yes, Sir.” Pansy nodded again and took off towards her office to the east of the Weather Corps.
Along the way she tried to think of anything but the feeling of Commander Hurricane’s shoulder against hers, but she didn’t succeed until she was safely in her office with a stack of reports from her officers that were dull enough to chase off even the most pleasant thoughts.
The world went from icy blackness to warm white in an instant. As the white faded into a view of a cave dimly lit by a purplish glow, the warmth remained in spite of the chunks of ice falling from Commander Hurricane’s body.
He took a deep breath and took in the scene. Private Pansy was staring at him, a look of wonder slowly turning to a smile. The same look was painted on the faces of a beige earth pony stallion and a green unicorn mare, but theirs shifted to a nervous series of looks between them.
“Commander, you’re alive!” Private Pansy took a step forward, then halted and drew herself into an uncertain attention. “I mean, you’re alive, Sir…”
Hurricane looked at the ice dropping from his coat and wings, then back to her shocked face. He tried to put together what had happened but quickly came to the conclusion that it was probably magical in nature and he was missing key intelligence.
He frowned. “Private Pansy… what is the meaning of this?”
The stallion frowned back at him and leaned towards Pansy. “Who do you think he’d rather hear it from, a mud pony, a stick head, or the lowest ranking pegasus in the entire tribe?”
“I should explain it.” Pansy said, taking a step forward and letting an even expression fall over her face. “I am a pegasus, and this part is about my tribe.”
“Explain what? What is going on here?” Hurricane narrowed his eyes.
Pansy met them with the same even expression and spoke in a calm, firm voice:
“Commander, Sir, I must speak to you as a pony. This ice was drawn by the conflict between the tribes. By centuries of each of us feeling superior, treating the others as the enemy to be driven to submission, by… by your negotiations earlier—
“Is that what those were?” The unicorn raised an eyebrow. “I thought they were seeing who could shout the loudest.”
Pansy glanced over her shoulder with a sharp look, then turned back to Hurricane.
“I am a pegasus, and I’m proud of that. And you are my commander, and you deserve my respect and obedience. But we can’t go on like this.”
“Are you resigning?” Hurricane asked cautiously.
Pansy drew herself up and looked him squarely in the eye. “No, Sir. I’m telling you what our tribe must do, if we’re to survive and prosper. We must unite with the earth ponies and unicorns. We must form a new society, a new way of living with each other. It will require sacrifices on our part, we can’t hold to everything that’s made our tribe great in the past if we want our tribe to be great in the future. But we are pegasi, and we are strong, and we can thrive in this new world alongside friends from other tribes if, and only if, we’re willing to change our tactics, recognize our weaknesses, and offer our strength to all ponies.”
“Is that an order, Private?” Hurricane drew himself up, a full head higher than the Private and easily her superior in ability, rank, and years. But as he did, another piece of ice fell from his mane, and he quickly looked to Pansy for the answer.
“No, Sir. It’s just the truth,” she said simply. She nodded over her shoulder. “You can feel it in that fire. We made that, myself and Smart Cookie and Clover the Clever, by setting aside our differences, setting aside our tribes, and becoming friends. We need one of those big enough to thaw this land, and the unity and friendship of our tribes is the only way to build that.”
He looked to the purple fire, radiating warmth in a way that seemed to touch more than his physical form. Close to it, bathed in the shadowy light stood the earth pony and the unicorn, watching him with bated breath.
He turned again to Pansy and saw the same light of the fire shining in her eyes and through her form. “You made that?”
“All of us. You and I both owe our lives to those ponies, and I stand beside them…” She hesitated and looked over her shoulder at them, then back to the commander. “Before even my tribe.”
The two ponies smiled warmly at Pansy and the fire glowed brighter for a moment. Hurricane frowned as he considered the scene.
“Yes, that’s treasonous,” Pansy said quickly, squaring her shoulders and setting her jaw. “You can discharge me, if you’d like. Or you can join the tribe to the three of us, under the banner of a new nation, Equestria. The decision is in your hooves, Commander.”
Hurricane stared at the fire. In his head, the voices of his forebearers and of Senior Command desperately reminded him of the strength of the pegasi, their glory, their place in honor above all other tribes.
But those voices seemed distant. And what was here in this cave, in the ponies before him, was a force greater than ponies or tribes.
He smiled at Pansy. “I was told once that a soldier must balance strength and flexibility. Nopony doubts the strength of the pegasi, but if you three know a way out of this ice, it may be time to demonstrate our flexibility. Equestria has the loyalty of the pegasi under its banner.” He turned his smile to the others. “And your earth pony and unicorn friends can count on that.”
“We’ll never doubt it,” the earth pony said with a grin. “Now come over here and warm yourself.”
The unicorn sat down and motioned next to her for Hurricane to join them. “Yes, help us work out how this might work. So far we’ve got a name, and… well, that’s about it.”
“We’ve got ponies now!” the earth pony pointed out. “A name and ponies, we’re practically a world power already.”
Hurricane chuckled and walked over, Pansy close by his side with a proud smile on her face.
“This won’t be easy. But it will be better.” He took a seat as Pansy rounded the fire to sit between the other ponies. When she was settled, he offered her an approving nod. “Thank you, Lieutenant Pansy. There’ll be a Golden Cloud on your uniform the second we get back.”
Pansy beamed and gave a salute. “Thank you, Sir. I was just doing my duty.”
Hurricane stood like a statue by the large fireplace in the Princesses’ council room, keeping a close eye on the heated discussion at the table.
“Why do you even care about this?” Puddinghead said with a wide gesture at Pansy that set the little red earth pony’s bun wobbling. “You lot just have to map the blasted thing out and hoof it over.”
Pansy just sat with military stiffness and explained gently, “Because four times this year we’ve surveyed for a road, and four times it’s needed to be redone, repeatedly, due to delays or mismanagement. Your craftsponies are to be respected, but our scouts deserve respect as well, and they’ve done their jobs promptly each time, sometimes ten times over.”
Pansy addressed her words to Puddinghead, but Hurricane knew the explanation was even more for the benefit of Princess Celestia, who sat at the head of the table watching attentively.
“I’d simply like to point out for the record that Lord Agate did put in a bid for this job,” Platinum added, hardly looking at the other mares as she buffed some dust off of her white hooves.
Puddinghead snorted. “For six times what the Mason’s Guild wanted. For that much, the blasted road had better include a pub every mile with half-priced cider.”
“If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth being paid exorbitantly for.” Clover smirked and glanced up from her notes. “Or is that just a unicorn saying?”
Cookie was pacing behind the table, but he stopped behind Puddinghead and frowned at Pansy. “The surveyor’s jobs take a half of a day. The pavers are going to be hauling stones for months, I think it’s understandable when things fall behind.”
“And we will account for that,” Pansy said with a nod. “We will account for maps being lost or destroyed, materials being delayed, conflicts with weather scheduling, difficult terrain, and potential for monster attacks.” She added sharply, “We will not account for sudden drops in productivity from workers, and I’m afraid those workers will be unhappy with us.”
Puddinghead frowned and arched an eyebrow, slumping back. “I can understand why, if they’re the ones doing the work and you’re flying in to tell them how.”
Hurricane allowed himself a small smile as he saw Pansy’s eyes flash.
She answered in the same sharp tone, “Puddinghead, we make and deliver hundreds of thousands of clouds over the land each year. We have troops that can travel thousands of miles, set up a base of operations, wage a battle, and tend to wounded in a matter of weeks. And the reason we can do those things is that we have ponies whose job is to keep track of rainfall, crop disbursement, migration patterns of dozens of species from birds to dragons, scouting reports, inventory, communications, and, yes, who is doing the work. The ponies who fly in to tell them how are the very ponies who make things work.”
“Is that why you need Senior Command to fly in and tell you how to have foals?” Puddinghead smirked.
Pansy’s even expression didn’t change, but Hurricane took a step forward, his eyes narrowed. “Puddinghead—”
“Calm down, Hurricane. Puddinghead is simply jealous no one in our tribe has asked her to reproduce.” Cookie offered him a smirk. “It’s our gift to the future ponies of Equestria.”
Hurricane relaxed, stepping back and returning the smirk. “The present stallions as well.”
Puddinghead opened her mouth to retort, but Cookie cut her off before she got a word out.
“Pansy, to the subject at hoof, you act as though our guilds have no organization what-so-ever. We did manage to have roads in Girthshire without the pegasus efficiency brigade flying above.”
“In spite of the pavers best efforts, it seems,” Clover added.
Pansy offered a nod of concession. “Some of the guilds are very efficient. Please don’t take this as a condemnation of your tribe or your systems. Even the Masons Guild seems perfectly adequate when laying stone for buildings.” Her face shifted to a frown. “But I must be clear here, the ponies who are in charge of laying the roads are inefficient, and we don’t want to be bound to their timetables.”
“I find that quite reasonable, Major,” Princess Celestia said clearly, cutting off a rebuttal from Cookie. “I don’t think it would be wise for ponies to put a hoof in where they have no business, but you’re already a part of the planning and oversight...” She smirked. “...as it were. I don’t think it should be a problem to give you more control, in the name of efficiency.”
Cookie frowned and offered her a flat look. “You don’t think it should be a problem—”
The princess’s smile grew sweet as she turned to Cookie. “I’m taking this as you volunteering to make sure it isn’t.”
His face softened to a resigned smile and he raised his eyebrows. “I’m not sure that was going to be my point, but I shall do what I can.”
“Thank you, Cookie.” Princess Celestia nodded, and then turned her attention to Hurricane. “Now, the next order of business. Commander Hurricane, do you have an opinion on the matter of the Diamond Dogs? Several ponies are interested in the mines there, and no treaty on the limits of their domain had held thus far.”
Hurricane drew himself up and stepped forward. “Yes, Your Majesty. As I mentioned several treaties ago, their treatment of Equestria is a disgrace. They have no interest in designating borders, and no intention of honoring the ones we’ve laid out. It’s high time they were taught a lesson.”
“Here, here.” Platinum clapped a hoof lightly on the table. “As little as we want bloodshed, those dogs are a danger to ponies, and negotiation seems out of the question. They’ve been taking hostages to exchange for gems the ponies have mined, you know.”
“Gems the ponies have mined from the area the Diamond Dogs occupy, which they’ve occupied since well before we turned up and started mining gems,” Cookie said with a pointed look at Platinum and Hurricane.
“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Clover spoke up from the foot of the table. “Just what is the area they occupy? We can’t know if they won’t hold to a blasted treaty.” She tilted her head with a frown. “Hurricane, can we just give them... a bit of a taste? Enough that perhaps they’ll pay attention to their borders?”
“If you’d like to revisit this problem in another five years, and then ten, and for as long as ponies remain in Equestria, yes, that’s a perfect strategy.” Hurricane nodded with a flat expression. “If you wish it dealt with for once and for all, those tunnels will need to be cleared and the dogs sent on their way.”
“I’m afraid I must disagree with the commander,” Pansy said directly to Princess Celestia. “With all due respect, I’m afraid we’re in no position to remove the Diamond Dogs at this time. It would be a tactical nightmare, and our troops would suffer for it.”
Hurricane flapped into the air and landed in the seat across from Pansy. “I believe I have an understanding of tactics, Major. I’m not saying it would be easy, but there are methods for dealing with these situations.”
Pansy frowned and nodded to him. “Yes, Sir. There are of course, but we aren’t prepared to initiate them. If we needed to fight it, to defend the lives of ponies, we would do what was necessary: initiate new training regimen beginning at sunrise tomorrow, with our best troops drilling around the clock. Request support from Clover and Star Swirl and the school, and the Metalworker’s Guild engineers. Put together a crew of miners to aid us in the tunnels and show us how to secure them…” She looked him in the eye. “Commander, we could fight the Diamond Dogs and we could win, but to do so would require an enormous cost, whether in time, effort, and tactical organization, or in the blood of our troops. Neither is worth it for gems.”
“This isn’t about gems, Major, this is about our sovereignty,” Hurricane said in a firm, even tone. “The dogs have repeatedly demonstrated that they don’t recognize the laws of Equestria. They must be driven out before they endanger ponies, either themselves or by demonstrating to other beings that outside of pony towns Equestria is lawless and the crown will do nothing. How are ponies to travel or trade if they can’t be guaranteed safety on our roads? What pony would build a farm or venture into a mine, knowing there might be all manner of beings roaming the countryside that mean them harm?”
He leaned back and motioned to the princess. “Clearly, it is the will of Princess Celestia that ponies be safe and free here. Our job, Major Pansy, is to provide the means to make that so. To argue that is not worth doing because our job would be difficult is a stain on our honor and a dereliction of our duty.”
“Then it’s a good thing this council isn’t here to satisfy your blasted honor.” Puddinghead rolled her eyes, then turned and said plainly to Princess Celestia, “Your Majesty, if it’s going to be a giant pain in the rump, we ought to figure out something else.”
Pansy ignored Puddinghead, drawing herself up and addressing Hurricane, “Commander, Sir, I will never accept a stain on my honor by neglecting a duty because it is difficult. But I will never count it as a stain on my honor to weigh the benefits of a battle with the cost and risks, and honestly state what I find. Your aims are noble and just and right, and I would expect no less from you, but each battle is not the war. Even if the war is well worth winning, a specific battle may not be. Are you sure this is the battle we must win?”
“If it’s a battle, Hurricane is sure we must win it,” Clover said to Cookie.
Cookie nodded. “Or if it might be a battle, or could possibly result in a battle, or might be something similar to a battle, or if there’s a—”
“If you say the g-word, I’ll light your tail on fire.” Clover glared at him, and then at Hurricane for good measure. “Either of you.”
Hurricane glared at both of them, then looked to Pansy. She was absolutely right about the tactics; their troops were trained for aerial combat and maneuvering, with spears and slings and swords. He was well aware it would be the toughest undertaking of his career to assure there wasn’t a bloodbath in those tunnels. But he was equally certain of the futility of half-measures; the Diamond Dogs lacked any form of honor he could see, and as long as they remained in the vicinity of ponies it would be a matter of time before they grew bold enough to strike.
In Hippocampus there would have been no question, his best tacticians would have been summoned by now, with orders to have three battle plans on his desk by sun-up. But this was Equestria; there were ponies like Puddinghead and Clover, who wanted easy answers, and a princess who wouldn’t want blood on her hooves. Pansy knew this world better than he did.
He answered Pansy, feeling the weight of years on his shoulders, “I’m sure I know the way, the only way, to keep the Diamond Dogs from bothering ponies. Whether that must be done is a political matter and rests in the hooves of Princess Celestia.”
Princess Celestia gave a solemn nod and addressed the room, “The point of this, as the commander noted, is to protect ponies and keep peace in our land. Suppose we focus on protecting the ponies, rather than stopping the Diamond Dogs?”
Cookie raised an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”
“Commander, might we station troops in the area?” Princess Celestia asked Hurricane with a slight tilt of her head. “That may be a warning to the Diamond Dogs, and if they do bother the ponies your troops could step in to rescue or defend them. After a few such confrontations, it is to be hoped that the dogs will consider it too much trouble to bother our ponies.”
Hurricane sighed and glanced at Pansy, then back to the princess. “Of course, Your Majesty. But my advice stands. This isn’t a solution, it will last only as long as troops are present and the dogs aren’t feeling bold.”
Princess Celestia smiled at him. “Your advice is noted, Commander. If this proves impractical, the council will return to this question, and your voice will receive considerable weight.”
“I do hope it doesn’t come to that.” Hurricane threw a look at Clover and Cookie. “In spite of what some ponies think, I prefer to keep my troops out of harm’s way.”
“You know, that would be remarkably easy if you’d stop suggesting we put them in harm’s way,” Cookie said with a dry look.
Pansy looked at Cookie and raised her eyebrows. “Those are light words from a pony who’s neither wielded a spear nor commanded a troop.”
“They seem like common sense to me,” he said with a shrug.
“Then that is a failure on your part. Commander Hurricane doesn’t simply represent our tribe, he maintains and commands the military of Equestria, which is a tool at our disposal in matters of state. It is his place to let the council know each and every time it may be of use to us, and to decline to mention that out of concern for our troops would be no less than cowardice, deceit, and treason.” Pansy frowned at Cookie. “How dare you suggest that course for a member of council, a friend, and an honorable pony?”
Cookie blinked, then shook his head. “I never would, and I’m sorry to imply such a thing. Might I amend my suggestion? He could, perhaps, be less enthusiastic about it.”
Pansy offered a half-hearted nod. “Perhaps, but he takes pride in our skill.”
“We’re talking about the lives of ponies here, not a fine new hat to show off,” Cookie said, his face flat.
“We’re talking about pegasus soldiers,” Pansy said firmly. “Do remember that I am one of the ponies in question, and I work my tail off so that when he offers our use to the princess he can be completely and utterly confident in our bravery, honor, and capabilities.”
Cookie’s face tinged with sympathy, but he pressed on, “Pansy, we both know you don’t want to fight every battle that Hurricane insists is absolutely necessary to secure Equestria. You said as much tonight.”
Pansy drew herself up and tilted her head. “As a council member I try to consider every option, as should we all. But I have never felt for a moment that Commander Hurricane doesn’t care deeply about me and my fellow soldiers. In military matters I am his to command, and I certainly wouldn’t agree to that if I didn’t trust him to carefully balance my life with the needs of Equestria. Since my fellow soldiers continue to follow him, I assume they’ve made the same judgement, and I salute them for it.”
“Well said, Major Pansy.” Princess Celestia nodded to her. “As our business is done here, I suggest Cookie owes the commander a toast in the kitchens.”
“I suppose I do,” Cookie said with a smile. “And one for Pansy as well. I feel I’ve received a thorough education tonight on the place of military leadership in government.”
Hurricane snorted, but with a small smile of his own. “Right now that place is in front of a hearty snack and a mug of cider.”
“That’s a position I can get behind!” Puddinghead grinned and rose to her hooves. “Come along, ponies.”
As the ponies made their way into the stone hallways of the Castle of the Two Sisters, Hurricane held back to fall in step beside Pansy. Ahead of them the unicorns and earth ponies joked about how many barrels of wine might be required to soothe the pride of the Mason’s Guild, but Hurricane’s focus was on the pony next to him.
Trying not to draw attention to it, he brushed his wing against hers and said in a low voice, “Pansy… thank you. For all that you’ve done tonight.”
Pansy’s cheeks colored slightly, but she glanced at him with a warm smile. “It’s my pleasure, Sir.”
***
The mid-morning sun was shining through the window of Hurricane’s office as he read through the never-ending pile of reports and requests that collected on his desk. He didn’t mind the task; most day-to-day reports were handled by the generals, so by the time something required his personal review it was bound to be interesting at least. He had just signed off on a requisition to acquire fifty sets of fireproof boots from Clover’s school, which turned out to be necessary for patrolling the aptly named Fire Swamp to the north, when there came a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Hurricane called. He already knew it was either a member of Senior Command or one of the princesses’ advisors. Nopony else would dare disturb him without an appointment.
General Highwind walked in and snapped a salute. He was an older brown pony nearing retirement; he and Hurricane had been in Senior Command together before his promotion to commander.
“General.” Hurricane nodded. “How can I help you?”
Highwind walked up to his desk and smacked a scroll down on it. “Hurricane. What in the seven gates of Tartarus is meant by these orders?”
Hurricane glanced down at the scroll, then looked at Highwind with an even expression. “Diplomatic escort.”
“Yes. It seems we’re to defend the foreign envoy against ‘predators including birds, frogs, snakes, cats, and spiders; strong and/or light winds; and being stepped on.’” General Highwind scowled and waved a hoof. “What in the blessed darkness is a breezie, anyway?”
“They’re beings about the size of a mouse, with insect wings. Star Swirl found them when he was mucking about with portals, and they’ve requested to be allowed to gather pollen in Equestria.” Hurricane rolled up the scroll and offered it back to Highwind. “It was also the consensus of Princess Celestia and the council that they’re adorable.”
“Adorable,” Highwind said with a look so dry it should have been reported to the Weather Corps.
Hurricane nodded and looked him in the eye. “Platinum was adamant on that point.”
Highwind sighed. “You want me to send a troop of soldiers to escort these beings around Equestria to gather pollen.”
“No, I ordered you to send a troop of soldiers to escort them.” Hurricane leaned back in his chair.
“This is an insult to my troops.” Highwind narrowed his eyes and ruffling his feathers.
Hurricane raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. “Your troops take an order from Princess Celestia, her advisors, and their commander as an insult?”
Highwind frowned. “No, of course not, but—”
“But they think the protection of beings their princess has personally invited and offered a promise of safe passage is beneath their honor?” he pressed.
“You know perfectly well what I’m saying,” Highwind said, leveling a stare at him.
“I do,” Hurricane admitted with a nod. “Back in Hippocampus, those troops would have been flying into battle against the griffons, offering their lives for the glory of the pegasi, and upholding a tradition of bravery and skill that has been the strength of our tribe for generations. And now they’re being asked to chase birds away from some large-ish insects.”
“Exactly.”
Hurricane pretended to consider that for exactly five seconds, and then he looked Highwind in the eye. “Hippocampus is a barren wasteland. I’ll happily grant a discharge to anypony who wants to go back there. Those who remain serve under the banner of Equestria, by the grace of the princesses and at my command, and when they are ordered to escort breezies, they escort breezies. Am I perfectly clear, General?”
Highwind gave a frustrated snort. “You are. But you must admit this job isn’t what it used to be.”
Hurricane nodded his agreement. “It’s not. But it’s the job that must be done.”
“Then I suppose my troop will give it their all,” Highwind said, rolling his eyes.
“Good. Anything else?”
“No, Sir.” Highwind sighed. “I’d better go muster a troop of scarecrows.”
“You’re dismissed,” Hurricane reached for the next report.
The general stomped out the door, nearly running into Pansy, who stood aside and at attention quickly. Highwind didn’t even pause to nod.
Once he was out of sight, Pansy continued into Hurricane’s office and closed the door behind her. “He didn’t seem pleased.”
Hurricane set aside the fresh report. “The breezie assignment.”
“I see,” Pansy said with a glance at the door. Then she looked at Hurricane and tilted her head. “You didn’t tell him about the official designation, did you?”
Hurricane just looked at her with a blank military expression.
Pansy’s face melted into a smirk. “Commander.”
“He was inquiring about the details,” Hurricane said, smirking back.
Pansy shook her head. “I can’t imagine that specific detail helped.”
Hurricane let out a long breath. “Nopony’s resigned over it yet, I’m taking that as a good sign. Between friends, I can’t say I blame him. Poor fellow’s got six divisions of ponies with spears and fire in their blood, and all he’s got for them is a monster here and there and… guarding breezies.”
“This isn’t the world we were raised for,” Pansy said with a sympathetic nod.
“It’s not, but it’s the one we have, and we are soldiers. We fight the battles we’re ordered into, not the ones that would please us.” Hurricane sighed, then he turned his attention back to Pansy. “Are you here on business?”
Her face fell into an impassive line. “In a way. But not official business. I needed to talk to you about something… practical.”
Hurricane narrowed his eyes in confusion, but he nodded. “Go on…”
“I’d like very much to bear an honor foal. But…” She trailed off, but it was impossible to tell the reason. Her face was unmoving, she didn’t fidget, she simply paused for entirely too long.
Clearing his throat, Hurricane looked her in the eye. “If you have reasons you won’t, there’s no need to excuse yourself to me. The recognition stands, regardless.”
“No. I just…” She took a deep breath and said in an even voice, “I wanted to request that you sire it. Sir.”
Hurricane froze, staring at her. He eventually managed to glance down at the papers on his desk and muttered, “I see.”
“You’re the finest stallion I know. If the pegasi want me to bear a foal of the best quality I can, I need for you to be the father.” She added quickly, “I’m not asking for more than that, of course.”
Still looking down, Hurricane forced himself to give his usual response to this request. “I’m honored, but I have to decline. If you’d like I can make some recommendations for you; some stallions from other divisions you might not be aware of.”
Pansy was quiet, and Hurricane didn’t dare look up until she spoke.
“I’ll consider anypony you recommend, Sir.” Her tone was careful and clear, and he hoped he only imagined the hint of disappointment.
“Pansy…” His face fell into the even expression of a soldier as he looked at her, though he spoke from his heart, “I mean it. I am honored. You’re a strong, beautiful mare, and among my finest officers. I—” He cut himself off before his words became honest and dangerous, and instead finished, “I’m sorry.”
She offered him a sad smile. “Don’t apologize. It would be as wrong of me to pressure you as it would be for command to pressure me. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, and I’ll always respect you as my commander, and love you as my friend.”
“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it from the bottom of his heart, even though he felt as blank as the expression on his face.
“You’re quite welcome.” She glanced out the window, then back to Hurricane. “I ought to get going. I’m meeting with Captain Compass Rose to tell her about the decision regarding the road.”
“Good.” Hurricane nodded. “Dismissed, as you please.”
Pansy smiled again, more warmly this time. “Thank you, Sir. And thank you for hearing me out.”
With that she turned and left Hurricane’s office, closing the door behind her.
Hurricane stared at the door for a long time. Then he closed his eyes. The closed door was no longer there, but instead a young mare standing at attention in a different time and place, the spirit of a pegasus radiating from her soul.
As Pansy made her way through the rough cloud building that was the temporary home of Senior Command, she couldn’t help feeling the stares of the officers. As a fresh Lieutenant everypony there outranked her, but she walked to the door of Commander Hurricane’s office and gave a knock knowing that the commander would make time for her without question. And she knew everypony there knew he would as well, and that many ponies weren’t happy about it.
“Come in,” the commander’s voice called through the door.
Pansy took a breath, opened the door, and saluted. “Commander, Sir.”
Commander Hurricane looked up from the scroll on his desk. “No need for that. What is it, Pansy?”
Pansy stepped in and closed the door behind her. “Sir, I… I heard that General Brightburn and General Hailstone resigned. Along with a number of their ponies.”
He looked at her with an even expression and nodded. “They did.”
“I heard rumors of the cause,” she said with a frown.
Commander Hurricane tilted his head slightly. “What did you hear?”
With a sigh, Pansy dropped her gaze to the cloud she stood on. “That they’re against joining the tribe to Equestria, and my promotion and our work together.”
“Just rumors,” Hurricane said in a simple, professional tone.
Pansy looked up in surprise to find Hurricane shuffling scrolls on his desk. “Are they?”
He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “They disagreed with my command.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Over those things?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m their commander.” He leaned back with a frown. “If I order them to kiss the tail of a griffon, they pucker up or get out of my sight.”
“Yes, Sir.” Pansy frowned and dropped her gaze again.
“That goes for you as well, in all military matters,” he said.
Pansy nodded. “Yes, Sir. I understand completely.”
Hurricane gave a sigh and something in his face relaxed. His tone changed, sounding more like the pony Pansy had sat beside in the cave than the one she’d saluted for years. “That said, I can’t say I’m unhappy to see the tail end of anypony who might object to honoring a hero, stabilizing our relations with the other tribes, and doing our duty to all ponies.”
“They were respected officers and soldiers,” Pansy said in a soft voice.
“Until their honor was tested. Then they revealed themselves as dedicated to their own glory at the expense of all else.” Hurricane snorted and glared out the window. “Sometimes I think it’s far too easy to hide a lack of honor. It lies in motives, not actions, so it’s only in the twists and turns of life that it’s truly revealed.”
She swallowed and looked at Hurricane. She knew she should accept his words and leave, but the memory of his face in the light of the fire made her speak her mind. “I hate to be the source of that test. I can’t help but feel I’m making the tribe weaker… I can’t be strong enough to make up for the loss of ponies like that.”
He studied her for a moment. “I can’t imagine that you hate having saved our tribe from annihilation. Nor do I believe that you feel we’re weaker for our alliance with the earth ponies and unicorns.”
“Of course not.” Pansy shook her head. “But I could refuse my promotion and commendations, and we’d have those things and our forces intact as well.”
“Our forces…” Hurricane gave another snort, then looked at Pansy with a soft expression. “You’ve yet to command a troop in battle.”
“This is true,” Pansy agreed, watching him with curiosity. They both knew that well.
Hurricane smiled at her for a moment. There was always a weight in his smile, as if his years, or even more, cast a shadow over it, but this one seemed heavier than most. “Well, we command the whole tribe in one now. Together, you and I.”
Pansy’s eyes went wide. “Sir! I’m only a lieutenant…”
He nodded and stood, walking over to the window. “You’re also a founder of Equestria, and this is a battle for the future of our tribe and our new nation. Our foes are anything that might stand in the way of that, whether that’s armies or wild creatures that mean us harm, the intrigues of the unicorns, the manipulations of the earth ponies, or our own bloody-minded pride and stubbornness.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Because there are pegasi who mean Equestria harm, and they may not even know it.”
She stared at him and swallowed, taking in every word.
He went on, “The first thing you need to learn is that any pony you can’t depend on is not to be numbered among your forces, and you’re well rid of them. You have to know that your soldiers are loyal, honorable, and prepared to give all. Any battlefield is chaotic, you can look down at Everfree and see it for yourself,” he said, motioning out the window at the bustling new town below. “And any pony who’s prepared to cause trouble is going to eventually, no matter their talent or rank. It’s for the best they do it far from us and our plans, where the damage will be limited and we can meet it with aid from the other tribes.”
“I’m afraid I have much to learn…” Pansy said slowly.
He looked back at her with that same heavy smile. “We both do. To be honest, I haven’t got a star’s damned clue what I’m doing. And I don’t believe for a second the rest of them do, no matter what Smart Cookie wants us to think.” He turned and walked over to her, placing a hoof casually on her shoulder. “But I couldn’t have asked for a more honorable pony to have at my side as we figure this blasted thing out. I count you among the finest the pegasi have to offer Equestria.”
Pansy stood frozen, entirely lost as to how she’d gotten to a place where her tribe and a new country rested upon her shoulders, and Commander Hurricane treated her as an equal and a familiar friend. “Sir… you know I’ll do my best, but you can’t mean that. We both know—”
“That you know how to fight whatever battle destiny throws at you.”
She looked over at him, and his smile grew fonder as he added, “You just can’t throw a spear.”
Pansy smiled and leaned over to offer him a friendly nuzzle. “Commander. Thank you.”
His smile fell and he cleared his throat. “Just doing my duty, Pansy.” He walked back to his desk and unfurled a scroll. “Now, with that bunch of old hawks out there, just hold your head high and don’t mind them. That’s my job. Your job is to keep an eye on whatever Smart Cookie and the rest are on about, and figure out where we fit in. Between us we can get the tribe settled without losing too many feathers along the way.”
“Yes, Sir.” She smiled and saluted.
He raised an eyebrow. “You can call me Hurricane when we’re not in front of the troops, if you like.”
Pansy nodded, “I know, Sir. But I’m proud to have you as my commander.”
Hurricane chuckled. “Just as well. Dismissed, as you please.”
Pansy grinned and walked out of his office. As soon as she left she felt the eyes of the ranking officers on her again, so she let the grin fall to a gentle smile. But she walked with purpose and pride towards the clouds outside, nodding to anypony who caught her eye. A few looked away, but most gave her a considering look and nodded back. Those ponies were her tribe, they were the ponies she led into the new nation, and she knew she had found her place among them.
The sun was setting, and Pansy was off-duty when she landed in front of the massive stone building that served as the school of magic and Clover’s home. She slipped inside quietly and made her way through the narrow stone halls to Clover’s office. Clover wasn’t there, but after checking a few other doorways in the hall Pansy found her knock was answered with an exasperated, “Come in!”
Pansy opened the door and saw Clover standing in a spacious laboratory with counters around the edges, frowning at a large crate in the center of the room. Her horn glowed purple, and the same purple magic swirled around the box. “Almost… just a bit more… ha! Got it.”
The box glowed blue for a moment, then all the magic disappeared and Clover looked over at her.
“Pansy! What brings you by?” she asked, walking over to a counter and picking up a quill in her magic. She started writing something on a scroll as Pansy hesitated.
“I just wanted to talk. Am I interrupting?”
“A bit, but nothing important. Just trying to get rid of this.” She motioned with her head to the crate. “Somepony left an unmovable box in the middle of our lab with twenty eight different spells on it, and I only knew what half of them even were.” She snorted and set down her quill with a bit too much force. “It's a good thing I love the mad old coot. He needs the second best mage in all of Equestria for his blasted housekeeper, and I certainly wouldn't come cheap."
Pansy frowned. “If you’re busy, I can come back later…”
Clover looked up from the scroll, towards Pansy. “Nonsense. This is already disrupting all of my work this afternoon, I’ll be damned if it’s going to disrupt my friend’s lives as well.”
Pansy gave a wan smile and closed the door behind her. “If you’re sure… I needed to speak to somepony.”
“Well, I hope I count.” Clover smiled and motioned her over.
Crossing the room to stand at the counter with Clover, Pansy tilted her head at the array of beakers full of colored liquids, scrolls covered in numbers and symbols, and a stone medallion with an opalescent sheen.
Clover followed her gaze and waved a hoof. “Don’t mind that rubbish. I just need to keep an eye for when it bubbles, glows, or explodes. Now, what’s the problem?”
Pansy swallowed and made her face even. “I asked the commander to sire my foal, and he declined. Very respectfully. I didn’t ask his reason, but I’m sure it’s a wise one.”
Clover studied her for a moment, then frowned. “But you’re unhappy with this?”
Pansy pursed her lips. “As I was considering it, I realized…” she paused, but made sure her voice would be calm as she went on, “why I wanted him to sire my foal. And that I wanted to do more than just breed with him… if you understand?”
“I think I do.” Clover nodded. “Is there a commendation you lot can get that gives you permission to have emotions?”
“A discharge.”
Clover snorted as she eyed a beaker of green liquid and gave it a tap with a hoof. “Well, I doubt anypony’d be happy with that. So, you're in love with Hurricane?”
“I don’t know.” Pansy shook her head, and tried to put into words all the thoughts she’d been having the past few days. “I just… respect everything about him. He’s my highest ideals as a soldier in the form of another pony, and since the cave he’s also one of the ponies I deeply care for. And I know how deeply he cares for me and how hard he works to be a friend to all of us and an advocate for Equestria, against training and the things Senior Command expects, and it warms my respect with affection.”
Pansy swallowed, and added, “And then the other day, I was watching him drill, considering what it might be like to lay with him…”
Clover looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Your respect got a little warmer than you could handle?”
“Among other things,” Pansy said, raising one back.
“He is in fine fitness.” Clover chuckled and leaned against the counter. “Pansy, I’m sorry to tell you that your deep respect combined with affection and wanting to get under a pony’s tail is generally known as ‘love’ among the other tribes.”
Pansy glanced down at her hooves. “He declined to sire my foal.”
Clover’s face fell. “Ah, yes. I see now. Ouch.”
“I’m trying not to dwell on it.” Pansy shook her head. “He must have a good reason for it, and I have no right to ask for an explanation. But it doesn’t give me hope.”
“No.” Clover frowned, but it slowly turned from troubled to thoughtful. “Of course, it may be the opposite of what you’re thinking. He doesn’t have permission to have emotions either. Maybe laying with you would be more than even that stone mask can take, and he fears you don’t feel the same.”
Pansy looked at Clover in mild surprise. “Do you think?”
Clover shrugged. “He has more reason to fear it than you have. He’s well older than you, you’re required to show him respect, and you're far more open with the emotions you’re not allowed to have. If you’ve never indicated otherwise, why would he think that you see an old stallion like him as anything other than a respected commander and dear friend?”
“Perhaps he wouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean his affections equal my own,” Pansy said cautiously.
“It doesn’t, but it means the only way you’re ever going to know for sure is to let him know how your affections weigh on the scale,” Clover said with a pointed look.
Pansy felt her feathers ruffle and mentally ordered them flat. She swallowed and nodded firmly. “Yes.”
Clover watched her for a few moments, but Pansy couldn’t think of what else to say. Or, rather, she couldn’t think of anything she could say. All of the words she could think of, the protests she wanted to make came with fidgeting and averted eyes.
Finally Clover tilted her head and said gently, “Pansy?
“I’m terrified,” Pansy said quickly and calmly, only allowing her heart to beat faster because she hadn’t worked out how to stop that yet.
“You take a pointy stick and face down things that want to kill you. This is just talking,” Clover pointed out with a fond smile.
“Talking to Commander Hurricane, and asking him to judge me worthy.” She frowned. “It feels disrespectful, as if I’m asking for a commendation.”
“Now you stop that thinking this instant,” Clover said, looking Pansy in the eye with a serious expression. “Another pony might not feel the same way you feel for them, but that’s nothing to do with your worth as a pony or a lover.”
Pansy’s mouth quirked in uncertainty, but Clover titled her head and went on, “If you think differently you need to tell me how somepony is unworthy of me, but worthy of a princess.”
Pansy raised her eyebrows. She’d always assumed something of that nature had taken place, but neither Clover nor Cookie had mentioned it, and they’d had their respective arrangements with Star Swirl and Princess Celestia for years.
Shaking her head clear, Pansy frowned. “Fine, you’re right as a general matter, but in this case… I know the things the commander values, and they’re all of the things I want to be. If I’m not judged as displaying enough of them, how can I take that as anything but a sign that I’m not worthy by my own standards?”
“You know the things Hurricane values in a soldier and a friend, and you know he sees them in you,” Clover pointed out, looking over at the green beaker which had suddenly started bubbling. “What have his lovers been like?”
Pansy gave a shrug. “He’s never had any that I know of.”
“Then you can’t know what he values, and if you don’t have it you’ve no reason to think less of yourself.” Clover took the beaker and sniffed it, then offered it to Pansy. “Don't suppose you'd mind tasting this? If it tastes of peppermint, it's probably illusion. If it tastes of the worst thing you can imagine then the old fool discovered how to transfigure a blasted magical aura."
“I’d rather not?” Pansy said with a wary look.
“Fair enough.” Clover looked at the beaker and toasted Pansy. “Here’s hoping for peppermint.” She took a sip and considered, then took a larger sip. “Third layer of magic’s an illusion.”
Pansy shook her head and looked to Clover. “How do I even broach the subject?”
Clover rolled her eyes and trotted to the box, her horn glowing and the purple magic encasing the box. “Blessed darkness, Pansy, you just asked the stallion to sire a foal on you. I’d think mentioning that you’d be open to courtship if he’d like would be easy.”
“That was a practical matter. If he’d agreed, nothing would have changed but that we’d have had a foal of both of our lines. If he were to agree to court me, it might change everything, and if I don’t address it the right way or give him time to consider…” She looked down and brushed back a piece of her mane that fell near her eyes. Drawing a deep breath, she finished, “He may reject me based on that alone.”
Apparently satisfied with what her magic had done, Clover returned to the counter and made some notes as she said, “How would it change everything? You already work side by side, and have the same friends you spend time with, and enjoy one another’s company. You’d just be doing all that and a bit more of those practical matters besides.” Clover looked at Pansy and smirked. “If he likes the idea, I don’t see why he’d need much time or warning to come to a conclusion.”
“What if he doesn’t like the idea?” Pansy asked, biting her lip.
“Then the Windigos will return and destroy us all,” Clover said dryly. She finished her notes with a flourish and looked up again. “Or, somewhat more likely, you’ll remain friends. You enjoy your friendship with him now, right?”
“Of course!” Pansy said quickly. “I treasure it.”
Clover smiled. “Then you’ll go on treasuring it as it is. And we know he respects you above anypony, and I don’t see why finding out you care for him more deeply than he thought might change that.”
Pansy looked down again, imagining a life where the commander rejected her, where she had somehow indisputably failed him. The thought nearly broke her heart sitting there with Clover, the idea of facing Hurricane in that state seemed unbearable.
“But if he does like the idea…” Clover raised an eyebrow. “Then it would certainly be a shame if you never spoke to him about it.”
Pansy looked up and stared at her for a moment, and then nodded firmly. “You’re right. I have to try.”
Clover grinned. “That’s the spirit. Now let’s get this bugger open.”
Pansy watched as Clover picked up the shining pendant in her magic and laid it on top of the wooden crate. The crate glowed bright blue for a moment, then the color faded and left the box looking as it had before. Clover made her way over to it and gave it a kick with her rear hoof, popping the top off.
Pansy walked over next to Clover. “What’s in it?”
“A note.” Clover frowned and picked it up in her magic. She read aloud, “My clever darling, I’m not sure which I find more beautiful: that you managed to solve two interlocking prophetic equations backwards, or the face you make when you’re ready to murder me. Either way, meet me upstairs at eight o'clock this evening. Love, Star Swirl.”
Pansy couldn’t help but smile as Clover’s frown grew deeper.
“That stars-damned bastard! I wasted the whole blasted afternoon on this!” She gave a snort and started walking around the room, gathering jars and tomes in her magic. “I take it all back, Pansy. If you value your sanity, stay as far from stallions as you can.”
Suppressing a laugh, Pansy started for the door. “I’ll leave you be. I’m sure you have a lot of work to make up.”
“I do, but I’ve got two hours to eight o’clock.” She marched over to the counter and threw open a tome. “That ought to be enough for me to enchant my robes with about thirty magical locks and… oh stars, I’ll set a whole chain of illusions on an onyxian sequence! Ha, have fun with that one, you son of a timberwolf!”
Pansy paused at the door. “Isn’t that a bit much?”
Clover waved a hoof. “It’ll take him all of twenty minutes, and he’ll be ready to throw me on the bed when he’s done. I wouldn’t love him so much if he wasn’t such a stars-damned genius.”
“Have fun, I suppose,” Pansy called, shaking her head as she left the laboratory and followed the stone hallways outside. As she took to the sky she gave a light sigh. It was nice to consider that while her own matter of the heart seemed tangled and her chances slim, there were far stranger affairs that found a way.
***
A few days had gone by, and each evening Pansy had flown by the Senior Command building as she went off duty. She found it hard to arrange the proper time for this conversation with the commander; it wasn’t business, or even practical. It wouldn’t have been right to ambush him with it on their way to a meal or a gathering of their friends. Yet she desperately wanted to avoid making a fuss about it by asking him to speak with her, for fear that might give it undue weight.
She had settled for hoping to catch him as he left the command building on his way home. It would give them the chance to speak casually, and if all went well they could have some tea and continue their conversation. If it didn’t go well, they could part ways for the night and Pansy could return home to adjust.
With her plan of battle in place, Pansy slowed her flight as she neared the Senior Command building. As a few agonizing seconds and the building itself passed, it seemed she’d had no luck once again. Then, just before it was out of sight, the light in the commander’s office went out.
Pansy’s heart beat faster. She circled the building then landed on the cloud in front. She waited there, hoping to the stars that Commander Hurricane would be alone when he emerged.
A group of officers stepped out and nodded to Pansy, but Hurricane wasn’t among them. She nodded back as they took off towards the mess hall. Pansy took a deep breath.
Eventually, Commander Hurricane stepped out, shadowy in the dim light of the sun being lowered.
Pansy’s throat felt dry, but she managed to call out, “Commander.”
“Pansy.” He nodded to her. “I was just heading home. Did you need something?”
“No, Sir.” She stepped towards him, glad the dim light might hide the blush warming her cheeks. “I was just leaving as well, and I was wondering if you’d like somepony to fly with?”
“If you’re headed south, I wouldn’t mind,” Hurricane said, flapping into the air on his broad gray wings, but he paused for her answer.
“I am.” Pansy gave a few flaps herself, flying over next to him. Side by side they turned to the south, toward the barracks.
The evening air was cool, with a gentle breeze from the east. Clouds were placed to dot the sky, and they caught the last rays of the sun, glowing orange in the purple dusk.
“It’s a nice evening,” Hurricane noted, looking around. “The Weather Corps did a fine job.”
“Yes, I heard they promoted Lightning Strike, and she’s proving to be a talented manager.” Pansy felt like the normal conversation was coming from a different pony, but she went on, “I like the cloud placement these days.”
“It is well done.” He looked at a cloud as they passed close. “I’ve been considering appointing a Weather Corps manager to Senior Command, to have their say in the business of the tribe. They’re becoming the equal of the troops in size and importance, and they ought to have as much access to both of us for communication with the princesses.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Sir. I can send for a list of candidates tomorrow, if you like.”
“Go ahead and select one. And make sure the generals find out I’ve ordered it, I want to deal with any trouble before an official meeting.”
“Yes, Sir. I’ll deliver the selection through Sergeant Whisper Wisp. The divisions as far as the northern border should know about it before Weather Corps does,” Pansy said with a smile.
Hurricane chuckled, and Pansy smiled more broadly to see him in good spirits.
A silence settled for a moment, and Pansy considered her reason for this flight. She glanced at Hurricane, but her words failed her as she searched for something else to fill the air.
“I spoke with Compass Rose,” Pansy said, with a few sharp thoughts to herself regarding cowardice. But she went on evenly, “She’s assigning three ponies to the road full time, but she’s requested that if it proves time consuming, we might spare a troop. Most of the scouts are assigned to exploration and mapping these days, so they’re stretched a bit thin.”
“Can you spare one from your division?” Hurricane asked, glancing at her with a frown. “The last thing we need is the hotheads under Highwind puffing their feathers and lording over an earth pony guild. No doubt there’d be words exchanged, and Puddinghead would never let us hear the end of it.”
Pansy nodded. “Speak to General Swiftwing, and I’ll have a troop stand by. Captain Mistguard has been on timberwolf detail with the woodcutters, so his ponies should be used to dealings with the earth ponies.”
“I’ll let Swiftwing know.”
“Sir, are you doing anything tonight?” Pansy asked. She immediately felt as if she’d stopped flapping her wings and was about to fall to the ground. It wasn’t even the heart of what she had to say, but as soon as the words left her lips she knew the horns had sounded and she had set her spear, and there was no turning back.
He shook his head. “I don’t have anything planned. Are you visiting somepony?”
“No, I just…” She paused and took a breath. “Commander…” She glanced over and realized that set the wrong tone, so she corrected herself, “Hurricane?”
Hurricane tilted his head with a curious look.
She’d rehearsed her speech in her head every day, so when she began speaking it was in an assured but somewhat official tone. “The other day, when I said that you were the finest stallion I know, and that being sire to my foal was all I asked for—”
“Major, I’ve made my statements on that matter.” His cool authoritative tone startled her, and she glanced over to see a flat expression on his face that was nearly enough to make her abandon her mission.
But Pansy had never abandoned a mission in her life, so she swallowed and drew her courage. “I know. This isn’t about siring a foal, Sir.”
“Then go on…” He looked at her and nodded, but his expression didn’t change.
She looked down at the town below them and continued, “That was all I was asking for. But it wasn’t all I hoped for. My feelings for you have grown deeper than I’ve acknowledged to this point, and I have to admit I hope you might feel the same and consider courtship.”
Hurricane was silent. She didn’t dare look up.
Finally he answered, “Noted.”
Pansy focused for a moment on the flapping of her wings and on the feeling of the wind. Tears stung her eyes, but she wouldn’t allow them to fall. She still didn’t look up, not because she didn’t dare, but because it didn’t matter.
Finally she said quietly, “I’m sorry, Sir.”
“You’re young and proud, you should find a stallion to match your position. Not an old soldier with his glory behind him,” Hurricane said stiffly.
Pansy glanced at him. “Your glory in battle, perhaps. But I see the glory as you lead us into Equestria, facing our fellow officers on one side and the misconceptions of the unicorns and earth ponies on the other.”
Hurricane frowned. “We both know my temperament is unsuited to courtship. I lack the warmth and comfort a mare should expect from a special somepony, and I wouldn’t know poetry from a recipe for tarts.”
“You’re a soldier.” Pansy frowned and shrugged. “So am I. I think by now I’m well used to your bearing, it would be strange if I expected courtship to change that.”
He shook his head. “This is simply infatuation with a commanding officer. It’s common, and not to be taken seriously.”
Pansy felt her cheeks burn. With a swift flap of her wings she was in front of Hurricane, facing him, forcing him to stop short and hover. She held her face hard and even, and said crisply, “No, Hurricane. It’s not. You’ve been my commanding officer for nearly fifteen years, and I can assure you that as a starry-eyed enlisted pony I was terrified of you. Oh, I did respect you then, as one respects lightning or a sharp blade.”
Hurricane just stared at her, blinking in surprise.
With a deep breath to calm herself, Pansy went on, “But after the cave, you became my friend, and… I’ve always thought you came to respect me and my talents. And I came to see you as all that you are, and always have been: a brave and fierce soldier, and a wise and respected commander, but also a trusted and loyal friend, and honorable and intelligent councilor, and a virile and attractive stallion. I—”
“Major Pansy!” Hurricane shouted in a voice that circumvented all of Pansy’s emotion and reason, and nearly made her try to snap to attention in the air. He went on, “I am your commander, and this is inappropriate. I do not give a flying feather how you see me, or how you feel about it. There are only two options here: you keep this to yourself, and we return to our previous relationship, or you find yourself reassigned to Weather Corps tomorrow. Is that clear?”
She was silent, her face the impassive mask she’d constructed specifically for taking orders. She looked Hurricane in the eye, but she found only the same even, emotionless expression she wore reflected back at her.
Finally, she nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good,” Hurricane said, his face relaxing in a frown.
“May I be dismissed, Sir?” she asked, refusing to allow herself to look away.
She hoped she saw his frown waver, and some small shame in his eyes, but if she did it vanished when he nodded. “Dismissed.”
Pansy pivoted and gave a few sharp flaps of her wings, sending her briskly away from the commander. She wasn’t sure where she was going, she wasn’t even sure what direction she was going, but it wouldn’t matter until she was out of his sight. Then, and only then, would she stop to tend her wounds and study her defeat.
Yak fighting forces are gathering 50 miles due north. Estimates put them at 500 strong thus far. Engagement is expected by tomorrow morning. The 108th Troop is prepared to assume the lead, with the 246th and 543rd falling in behind, and the 304th flanking from the west, downwind.
We have all we need. Look for a messenger by tomorrow evening with a report on the engagement.
— Captain Pansy
I can’t help but miss you. I look for you every few minutes, I’m so used to seeing you among the officers or reviewing the troops for the hundredth time. Now I have to do it myself, and I fear I do it even more often and thoroughly than you. They’re beginning to hate me for it, so I know I’m doing things correctly.
My love to you and the others. Remind them I am a soldier and I fight under the banner of Equestria. They may never understand, but you will, so remind them anyway.
— Pansy
The sun came up, and Hurricane sat on the top of his cloudhome looking north. Thousands of miles from Everfree, a battle had begun in icy wastes, against savage beings three times the size of the ponies who fought them.
If they were lucky, the troops would never come close, never land. They’d attack from the safety of the sky until the Yaks returned to their homeland.
But there were many ways they could become unlucky. The northern weather was out of pegasus hooves, though they’d studied it carefully. The Yaks may prove impervious to spears, or have cover or armor, requiring hoof to hoof combat with swords or pikes. The Yaks may have weapons of range themselves, requiring troops to move in and target the beings wielding them.
Any of these things might have happened already. And at that very moment, Pansy may have been dying in the snow.
That moment or any moment. There would be nothing special about it.
Hurricane knew this was one place where he couldn’t turn to his friends for comfort. If anything happened to Pansy, they would turn to him. “Why did you send her?”
He had a lot of answers for that, and not a blasted one would matter. Not to them and not to him.
He could see her there in his mind, fighting fiercely, so small and delicate next to her massive, shaggy opponents, and yet driven to kill by that spirit that lived within her. He’d seen her in battle; their friends would never recognize her, and he was glad of it. In peace she was a force for peace, and in war she was a force for war. Yet she was always a soldier.
Hurricane’s job was to send soldiers into battle and hope they came back. He did all that he could so they would. He was well aware that every pony he sent was Pansy to some other ponies: a friendly face and a comforting wing, a friend, a child, a parent. The pony somepony loved.
But Pansy was Pansy to him, and he sent her into battle. She wouldn’t have had him do otherwise. And if she would have, if she was a pony to shirk her duty or play on his sympathies and let another pony take her place, she wouldn’t have been the pony he loved.
Any other time he might hide it from himself, but now all the reasons she could never know, and all the reasons he could never know didn’t matter. All that mattered right now was that at this moment, he might lose her.
In a different course of the stars, he would have asked her to be his wife. They would have foals of two honored lines. His bed would be hers, and he would hold her close and wrap his wings around her as they slept. They would stand together at formal occasions, proud and united.
And she would still be a soldier, and he would still send her to battle, and in a moment he might lose her.
It made no difference now. There was a comfort in that, however small. The failing that kept him from her would change nothing in his darkest hour. When sorrow removed all practical considerations, when loss removed the terror of her finding him wanting, when the gnawing of guilt and shame were replaced by worse, his love for her could shine, pure and right.
He prayed to the stars that it would never come to that. He prayed he could never love her as she deserved. He simply wanted her to be safe and proud and content, so his love could disappear once more. As long as he saw her again, alive, nothing else would matter in the days until the next battle.
After an hour, the battle ended. It might have ended earlier or later, he wouldn’t know until that afternoon. He would see her neat writing, or that of another officer, and he would know. But he had things to do, and the battle must end sometime, and this was as good a time as any.
So he set his love aside, as he hoped he always would.
Commander Hurricane—
The Yaks have retreated following engagement. 45 ponies are injured and 10 are dead (see attached list.) We’re treating 10 injured Yaks, and 75 lay dead on the battlefield. A full account of the battle will follow later this evening.
I plan to have all troops remain in our current position for one week, at which time the 246th, 543rd, and 108th will return to Everfree, leaving the 304th under the command of Captain Longfeather to secure the border.
— Captain Pansy
Tired and filthy, and have a very long report to write. But safe and proud. Love to you and the others.
— Pansy
Commander Hurricane sat at his desk, reviewing scrolls with a single-minded focus.
It had been three days, and Hurricane hadn’t seen Pansy once. He hadn’t expected to. He knew he would see her eventually at council, or when she had official business, or at gatherings of their friends. But he knew just as well that there would be no more friendly chats or companionable flights for quite some time.
It was for the best, for both of them.
As long as he was reading and considering and signing he could believe that. So when a knock sounded on his door and threatened to interrupt his certainty, he kept his eyes focused on the writing in front of him as he barked, “Come in.”
“Commander.” Her voice was crisp and emotionless, but it was hers.
Hurricane looked up slowly to see Pansy focused on him with an even expression. She stood proud and relaxed, and he knew too well that she had trained most of her life so that he had no way of telling her thoughts or feeling from this. He had as well, so he set his face in a blank expression and did his best to steel his nerves.
She went on in the same tone, “Platinum asked me to let you know we’re invited to dinner Thursday. “
“You can let her know I’ll be there,” he said, unable or unwilling to look away from her eyes.
“Of course.” She nodded.
“Good.” He took a breath. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Hurricane closed his eyes, as if he couldn’t see her just as easily in his mind. He had done what he needed to do. But if Pansy was in pain beneath that mask, if his weakness had caused that, it was his duty to try to bandage the wound.
He sighed and opened his eyes. Pansy was looking at him, concern plain on her face.
“Are you alright, Sir?”
Hurricane nodded. “Pansy… I was too harsh the other evening. I’m sorry.”
Pansy drew her face even again. “You were harsh, but it was fair.” Her voice softened. “I never intended to persuade you of feelings you don’t have, I just wanted to make mine known.”
“Still… you’re my dearest friend, and I can’t help feeling that I should have been more gentle.” He offered a grim, joyless smile. “I told you I lacked the temperament of a suitor.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I’m not to speak of that, Sir.”
Hurricane sighed and shook his head. “I rescind that order. You’re my friend, you can always speak about whatever you like.”
“Thank you, but you were right. You made your feelings on the matter perfectly clear. I let my emotions get the best of me.” Pansy looked down and added softly, “I’m sorry, I assure you it won’t happen again.”
Hurricane swallowed. It wouldn’t. He’d made sure of it, and Pansy’s word was as solid as steel.
It was for the best, for both of them.
After too long, he drew another deep breath and tried to sound casual. “Are you going to Platinum’s?”
“Of course,” she said, tilting her head in confusion.
“Would you like to fly together?” He added quickly, “I understand if you’d prefer not to.”
“I would like to.” Pansy looked at him, a sad hope in her eyes. “I—I do want our friendship, Sir, if you’ll forgive me my foolishness.”
“Pansy—” he started, then he bit his tongue. His honor burned to let her know there was nothing to forgive, that there had never been a foolish thing about her but her belief in him. But he knew it would make no difference, she would have felt a fool either way. “Of course I will. I consider myself lucky to have the chance.”
Her friendly smile stabbed him in the heart. “I’m glad. I truly am. I value our friendship above nearly all else, I was worried I’d been careless with it.”
“No. You did nothing wrong,” he said sincerely, looking out the window at the sky outside. “I know better than anypony that one can’t control what’s in one’s heart.”
“Yes.” There was a pause, and she let out a breath. “Well, I’ll let Platinum know to expect us.”
He turned back to her with a smile he forced on his face. “I’ll look forward to it.”
“I will as well.” She smiled and turned to leave, looking over her shoulder when she got to the door. “If fine company managed to chase off the Windigos and found a nation, I’m sure it can overcome what ails me.”
Hurricane gave an encouraging nod as she closed the door behind her. He looked down at his reports with a lighter heart, hoping that this meeting would set the path forward. Perhaps in a few weeks things would be back to normal, and Pansy would realize they were well rid of this mess.
It was for the best, for both of them.
And it was more luck than he’d dared hope. As he went about his work, he smiled with a tinge of both guilt and pride at the thought that he’d underestimated her resilience.
***
The dining hall at Platinum’s manor was a large room, hung with tapestries and paintings and a massive chandelier. The table sat twelve, but that night half of it went unused as the six friends gathered around where Platinum sat at the head. Hurricane took the seat furthest, with Clover and Cookie between them, while across Pansy sat beside Puddinghead.
Through the tone and glances at dinner he’d gathered that Clover was the only one who knew anything about his conversation with Pansy. He was glad for that, she was a sensible pony and most likely had offered Pansy comfort without making a fuss, and she didn’t seem inclined to lay blame at his hooves. It made the dinner comfortable and familiar, even between him and Pansy, and he found it easy to let what had happened between them remain buried in the back of his mind.
As Platinum’s footponies moved around the table with trays and dishes of dessert, Pansy smiled and allowed them to fill her plate with delicate pastries and rich puddings. “Platinum, you’ve outdone yourself.”
“Thank you.” Platinum grinned and tossed her mane. “I do enjoy outdoing myself, but I find it harder and harder as years go by.”
“Well you’ve managed,” Cookie said, taking a bite of pastry and then motioning to the plate with his hoof. “And my sincere compliments to your kitchen.”
Clover nodded, though she sat in front of an empty plate. “Mine as well, though I’m making a guess regarding dessert. I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“Come now, haven’t you got some sort of interdimensional pocket you can slip it into for later?” Puddinghead asked, taking a drink of wine.
“Those are my other robes,” Clover said with a chuckle. “These only have the regular sort, and the berries would make a blasted mess.”
Platinum smiled at Clover. “I’ll send some over for you tomorrow.”
Puddinghead looked to Platinum and tilted her head. “You know, I don’t have any interdimensional pockets either.”
Clover smirked at her. “I saw how much of the squash you ate, and a half dozen glasses of wine, and dessert on top of it all. Your stomach certainly qualifies.”
“Doesn’t help me tomorrow.” Puddinghead gave a mock frown, then went on to Cookie. “You’ll have to bring muffins by the office.”
Cookie smiled and raised an eyebrow. “You do know I’m not actually a baker, right?”
“I do, in fact. But don’t worry, I won’t let it slip to Princess Celestia,” Puddinghead said, finishing another glass of wine and holding it up for a footpony to refill. One stepped forward, but Platinum waved a hoof, dismissing him and his fellows, and her own magic took up a wine bottle and filled Puddinghead’s glass.
Cookie chuckled. “Appreciated. Imagine how disappointed she’ll be to find I work in government?”
Hurricane gave an amused snort. “You work? Since when?”
Cookie leaned over, looking past Clover to answer him, “I’ll have you know I reviewed three charters for new towns this week. Two of them were for the same town. We rejected their initial request to define their northern boundary as ‘where-so-ever Dither Withers eventually decides to build his barn.’”
“The cartographers would have loved that one,” Hurricane said, rolling his eyes. He took a bite of some kind of buttery chocolate pastry that melted in his mouth, and enjoyed it more than he would admit to another pony.
“We are quite liberal with our requirements, but one I remain firm on is that a town must have an actual, rather than theoretical, location.” Cookie tapped the table for emphasis.
“Don’t tell Star Swirl, he’ll take that as a challenge,” Clover said with a nudge to Cookie.
Platinum was halfway through a drink of her wine, but motioned with the glass and went on once she had swallowed, “That reminds me, Clover. He borrowed a sapphire pendant from me… do I want it back?”
Clover pursed her lips. “How do you feel about holding on to your lifeforce?”
“Sapphires are out of fashion anyway.” Platinum sighed. “But could you ask him to stop doing that with my jewelry?”
“I wish I could. I can’t keep a blasted mirror in the house,” Clover said with a dry, commiserating look to Platinum.
“Well, that does explain your mane,” Puddinghead said with a smirk.
“It does.” Clover nodded, then raised an eyebrow at Puddinghead. “So what’s your excuse?”
Before Puddinghead could respond, Platinum turned to Cookie and asked loudly, “And how is Princess Celestia?”
Cookie swallowed a bite of pastry. “Well, tonight she’s being bored out of her skull by the Duchess of Clairmount.”
Clover frowned. “Oh dear. She does know that Violette cheats at cards, doesn’t she?”
“She does.” Cookie smirked. “Though I’m not sure that Violette knows that when a pony tries to cheat Celestia, she takes that as permission to return the favor.”
“Now Cookie, Violette is a dear friend of mine…” Platinum gave him a reproachful look, then leaned towards him. “I don’t suppose the princess would teach me how?”
Cookie chuckled. “I’m sure she’d love to. She’s been meaning to have you to tea to discuss something about dresses and whatever blasted ball is coming up.”
“The Harvest Ball is next month.” Platinum tilted her head. “I don’t suppose you know what colors she’ll be wearing?”
“Oh come now, Cookie doesn’t spend his evenings at the castle gabbing about dresses.” Puddinghead made a considering face, then added with a smirk, “Though it is Cookie, so one never knows.”
Clover cast a knowing glance at Cookie. “One certainly does. He has time with a beautiful princess, alone in her chambers...” She nodded firmly. “He spends it gabbing about politics, of course.”
“I… have absolutely no defense for that,” Cookie said with an abashed grin.
Hurricane shook his head. “That mare has the patience of the stars.”
“So what’s been on her mind, lately?” Pansy took a sip of her water.
Cookie glanced at her. “Well, we were discussing this honor foal business. We were troubled.”
Hurricane’s ears perked up as his muscles tensed. He glared at Cookie. “Neither of you need to be troubling yourselves about it.”
“That’s true, so long as there’s no pressure on a mare to have one.” Cookie frowned. “Celestia’s not terribly happy with the idea of her military intimidating mares into bearing foals, which I count as a point in her favor.”
Pansy spoke up calmly, “I assure you I don’t feel any pressure, and I certainly would let the commander and Princess Celestia know if I felt intimidated. Commander Hurricane has made it clear at every juncture that it’s entirely my choice.”
“Is that every mare, though, or just you? Hurricane cares for you as much as we all do.” Cookie paused and blinked, then looked at Clover. She responded with some vivid faces that left him shaking his head.
Hurricane took a long drink of his wine before answering, “It’s every mare. I’m aware that it’s a personal consideration, and it’s offered to my most talented officers. Whether they’re serving their tribe in their office or through their progeny, either is to be commended.”
“But only mares are requested?” Cookie pressed.
“Stallions can continue on in their duties while their wives or mates bear a foal. But for the mares who give the most for the tribe, it would require sacrificing time and stepping away from duties, so the benefits offered are important,” Pansy explained, then took a small bite of her pastry.
Cookie pursed his lips. “I would imagine many of them think like you in terms of selecting a sire— Ow!” He shot a look at Clover.
Clover buried her face in a hoof. “Oh blessed darkness, Cookie.”
“Well you could give me some clue what you’re on about rather than assaulting my side with your elbow.”
“Clover, it’s fine.” Pansy nodded to Cookie. “Go on.”
With another glare at Clover, Cookie continued, “So how is it not a kind of a harem for the highest ranking stallion officers?”
Hurricane leaned forward to see past Clover and fix Cookie with a stare. “As the highest ranking officer, I can tell you that neither I nor any of my predecessors would allow that, even if others in Senior Command might be tempted. The mares are high ranking officers themselves and commended for their talent and dedication, with no other considerations. They’re free to select any stallion who’s willing as sire, for whatever reason they like. If we didn’t trust them to do that much, why would we ask them to bring us the next generation?”
Cookie gave Hurricane a flat look. “Well as the highest ranking officer, how many mares have asked you?”
Hurricane looked at him for a moment and then leaned back, shifting his focus to his wine. “I’ve been asked since I was a sergeant.”
“So how many foals are of your line?” Platinum asked, her head tilted in curiosity.
Hurricane drained his wine glass before answering, “I’ve always declined.”
She raised her eyebrows in mild surprise, her magic retrieving a bottle from the sideboard and filling Hurricane’s glass. “None? I’d think your line would be just as honored and valuable to the pegasi as Pansy’s.”
“It is entirely up to the ponies in question,” he said evenly.
Cookie leaned back, apparently satisfied. “Well, I suppose it’s good that it goes unquestioned, at least. Celestia will be glad to hear it.”
“Why don’t you ask Hurricane, Pansy?” Puddinghead said, motioning with another nearly empty glass of wine. “He can’t have reason to not want a foal with you.”
“I asked. He declined,” Pansy said simply.
“He even declined you?” Puddinghead gave Pansy an incredulous look. She turned and eyed Hurricane. “Why?”
Hurricane grit his teeth and glared at Puddinghead, but she just turned her attention to Pansy.
Pansy took a sip of water then drew a deep breath. “I didn’t ask. He doesn’t need to make excuses to me.”
“Well he ought to,” Puddinghead said, draining her glass and setting it firmly on the table. Platinum’s magic lifted the wine bottle, and she hesitated a moment before setting it back down.
Clover frowned at Puddinghead. “No, he shouldn’t. This whole thing is just about tolerable the way Pansy and Hurricane talk, expecting ponies to justify an extremely personal decision is a step in the wrong direction. “
Puddinghead snorted and motioned with a hoof to Hurricane. “He can’t find her unattractive, not when he looks like a pile of rough stones himself. And the tribe basically cares for the foal, so it would take him all of fifteen minutes. Even if he wasn’t attracted to her, you’d think he could grit his teeth and get on with it as a favor to a dear friend, not to mention one of the ponies who saved his blasted life.”
Hurricane shot her a glare that would have stopped the heart of one of his soldiers. “Mind your own business, Puddinghead.”
“Well you’re both my friends, so I guess this is my business,” she said, raising her eyebrows at him. She reached for another drink of wine and frowned as she found her glass still empty, her frown deepening as she went on, “If you pegasi have this honor rutting thing, I don’t see why you wouldn't care to keep it between friends rather than making Pansy do that with some stranger.”
“Leave it be,” Pansy said firmly. “He declined. It’s fine.”
“It would have to be fine, but I do think it’s fair to ask him to tell you why not,” Platinum said, before noticing that Hurricane had turned his glare on her. She quickly nodded and picked up her wine glass. “...or I could mind my own business. Yes, I think that would be wise.”
Puddinghead turned to him. “So, Hurricane, why not? You know perfectly well Pansy is going to kiss your rump no matter what she thinks about it.”
Pansy shot Puddinghead a cold glare that Puddinghead didn’t seem to notice.
It took every ounce of control Hurricane had built over his career to remain seated, but he turned to look Puddinghead in the eye and said slowly, “I have no need to explain myself, especially to you.”
“Oh come now, you don’t think I’m going to shout ‘Yes, Sir’ and leave it be, do you?” She smirked at Hurricane, crossing her forelegs in front of her. “You’ve got thousands of brave soldiers, and all of them are scared to tell you when you’re being a twit.”
“Puddinghead, you’re being a twit,” Clover said, slumping back in her chair. “For the record.”
“If you’re not going to say anything, perhaps I shall guess the reason.” Puddinghead tilted her head in mock consideration. “Do you prefer griffons to ponies?”
Hurricane felt his wings twitch and his eyes narrow in spite of his best efforts.
She kept her smirk fixed on him. “Or are you a stallion’s stallion? You know what they say about pegasus barracks.”
At that, Hurricane rose from his chair, his wings spread behind him. He felt his body preparing to attack on instinct, and he growled through gritted teeth, “Puddinghead, I am warning you.”
“Cookie, perhaps it’s time for Puddinghead to retire,” Platinum said quickly, with a not-so-subtle motion of her head.
Cookie nodded and started to stand. “I’ve been saying that since she was elected.”
Puddinghead ignored them and pressed on, “Maybe you just can’t get it up at all. That’d explain all the pointy metal things, wouldn’t it? Overcompensating. Not stallion enough to please a mare.”
Hurricane channeled all of his anger and hatred into words that he wished with all his heart were a spear.
“No, I’m not stallion enough to please a mare. Laugh all you want, you ill-mannered mud pony nag!”
He turned flew from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Pansy stared at the closed door for a moment, then took a breath and glanced around to see the similarly shocked faces of the others.
She could have murdered Puddinghead. She could have easily echoed Hurricane’s words to her, and more besides. She’d been told to stop, warned several times, but civility never mattered to her and now she’d hurt somepony deeply. Even if it was unintentional, this was her habit and it was bound to happen eventually, so the blame fell on her.
Pansy took another deep breath. The silence was growing oppressive, and things had to be addressed. The look on Puddinghead’s face said that the commander’s words had their intended effect, that there was no use in driving the knife deeper, no matter how much she might deserve it.
“I’m sorry, he shouldn't have—” Pansy started, but Cookie cut in with a cold, clear voice:
“Oh yes, he should have. Puddinghead isn’t hiding behind our tribe here. He reached for the most vile thing he could call her, and I promise it still didn’t hurt either of us half as much as her comments hurt him.”
Puddinghead swallowed and nodded, her eyes downcast. “Cookie’s right. If you’re tossing your chamber pot out the window, you can’t complain when shit splashes you.”
Cookie’s eyes narrowed, and he went on to her, “Not to mention that I distinctly remember you implying similar things about me, in public debate no less. Were you hoping for a reaction like that?”
“Well, of course not.” Puddinghead sighed and shook her head. “Nor did I mean to treat Hurricane like that. In both cases I was just trying to goad you fellows… But I’m not too drunk to see that I went miles too far.”
“That poor pony…” Platinum said softly.
Pansy blinked as her fury at Puddinghead faded and the exact nature of the transgression became clear, along with far too many implications about the recent weeks to consider at once.
Cookie frowned. “And the worst of it is that we’re thinking that, and he knows it. It must drive a pony like Hurricane mad…”
“Well, why are we?” Clover asked with a shrug. “He has a full life, friends, and his health, save that. He has nothing to be ashamed of, and there are ponies in the world far more deserving of pity.”
Platinum pursed her lips and gave Clover a reproachful look. “It’s both expected and obvious that he’s ashamed, whether he has a good reason or not.”
“I’d imagine it’d weigh on him quite a bit.” Puddinghead sighed and looked around the room. “If you ponies think I’m bad, think what it’d be like if his soldiers found out.”
“She makes a fair point.” Platinum nodded. “Hurricane is a bold pony, but I’m not sure even he could command an army that considered him a laughing stock.”
Pansy bit her lip, looking at her water glass. She knew well that might be true, but equally well that those ponies ought to be dismissed as dishonorable sons of crows and run out of her military.
“Why should they find out?” Clover looked around the room with a challenge. “What business is it of theirs, or ours, or any pony he doesn't plan to share a bed with?”
“It’s no business of ours, and certainly not anypony else’s, but it’s in regards to his bed that I feel most sorry for him.” Cookie sighed, his eyes downcast. “It’s no wonder he has no wife or lovers. I know I wouldn’t have dared approach Celestia, knowing that I’d never be able to perform certain tasks expected of a suitor.”
Pansy’s head snapped to look at Cookie. She made her face even to fight all manner of reactions.
Clover gave him a flat look. “Are you suggesting that if you lost your ability to perform those tasks, Princess Celestia might love you less?”
He shook his head. “She wouldn’t, but it would concern me.”
Puddinghead tilted her head at him. “Would Princess Celestia notice?”
“Haven’t we heard enough out of you?” Cookie snapped with a dark glare at Puddinghead.
Puddinghead looked at him with innocent surprise. “It’s no judgement on you! She’s half again your size!”
Clover shook her head and looked at Cookie. “Star Swirl is a good bit older than me. As these things arise, or fail to, it won’t change our situation one bit. It’s a foolishness stallions have, thinking their jewels are some magical component of a relationship.”
Cookie shrugged. “How can you blame us, when careless words like Puddinghead’s tell us we can’t please a mare without it? I’m wise enough to have faith in Celestia to not consider such foolishness, but that’s knowing her love for me. To expect a friend, or worse an attractive acquaintance to be willing to overlook something like that…”
“And there are some who won’t, because mares are ponies and some ponies are fools,” Clover said plainly. “I don’t know why you’d want to lay with one of those fools myself, and I’d expect intelligent ponies like you and Hurricane to get over the absence.”
“Now, that’s not entirely fair,” Platinum said gently. “There are perfectly good reasons for some mares to be concerned, if they need to provide heirs or want a family. If the pegasi consider it important to bear foals of the best bloodlines, mares like Pansy would certainly take it into consideration.”
“No,” Pansy said firmly as her thoughts on the debate fell neatly into place. “Perhaps for other ponies, but no mare of honor should waste a second thought on that in consideration of Commander Hurricane."
She looked around the table to see all eyes focused on her and went on in a clear voice, “The entire reason for bearing an honor foal is that when you’re gone your strengths might live on and help ponies of the future. The commander already has a legacy written in the stars, he’s done more for the strength of our tribe and Equestria than a dozen foals of the finest feathers might accomplish together.
“To be the mare who stands beside him and offers him comfort may mean the end of one’s line, but it would be a worthy sacrifice, and to waste a moment considering it would show a lack of honor that would mark a mare as entirely undeserving of a stallion like Hurricane.”
Clover nodded to her with a smile. “Exactly. If this is the largest failing Hurricane has, in the balance he’s a remarkable pony, and any mare who loves him would see that.”
Pansy caught the quirk in Clover’s eyebrow as she finished. Her heart beat faster and her wings wanted to twitch.
“He doesn’t seem to think so,” Cookie pointed out.
Pansy stared at Cookie. Then she rose swiftly to her hooves and started for the door. “I have to go.”
Her brisk walk turned to a gallop in the hallway, and as soon as she was outside of the building she took off into the night sky.
***
Hurricane couldn’t imagine facing Puddinghead without killing her.
He couldn’t imagine facing his friends without turning away in shame.
He couldn’t imagine facing Pansy…
He flew from Platinum’s manor to his cloud home, but passed it without landing. There would be no rest until his wings refused to carry him. He banked and turned back, flying past the barracks to the drill sky.
In the open air of the drill sky he ran through form after form, feeling only the air rushing by and the force of his wings against it. In his mind, the voices of sergeants from his youth shouted the orders and Hurricane’s body obeyed. He kept it up for hours, until his wings protested, then demanded he stop.
When his wings ached to the point he feared they would give out, he finally conceded the physical demands of his worn body, turning to land on the clouds below.
They were lit by the moon, bright banks and valleys almost glowing. The pony standing there watching him was surrounded by that light, her blue form and white mane clear as day.
It was nearly enough to make him turn and fly home; he would have if his wings would have carried him. But that wasn’t an option, so he touched his hooves down as far from her as he could, at the edge of the clouds. He sat there and stretched his wings, looking over the edge at the lit streetlamps of Everfree.
He didn’t hear her approach, but he didn’t need to. He knew she was there even before she spoke.
After a moment of silence, she said in an even voice, “Commander.”
“Leave me be,” he said, unable to put the force behind it that he felt.
“Hurricane,” she said more firmly. “I should let you know that Puddinghead is sincerely sorry. She had no idea. And none of our friends thinks any less of you.”
Hurricane snorted.
“And I’m sorry I asked in the first place,” she added.
He shook his head. “You did nothing wrong.”
The cloud shifted as she sat down next to him, but he didn’t look over. He focused on the lights below, on the ache of his wings, on the chill of the night air on his sweat-soaked coat.
“Was it a wound?” Pansy asked after a moment. She added quickly, “You don’t have to answer.”
The silence of the night surrounded them. He didn’t have to tell her, it was nopony’s business, and just thinking about it shed far more light on the memories than he prefered. But some part of him hoped that if she knew the truth she might understand and forgive him all he couldn’t be to her.
“An accident at the academy. A bit of coltish foolishness, nothing honorable. It left me…” he swallowed and drew his strength. “It left me entirely useless. I managed to keep it from my records, only the medic who worked there knew, and he’s long gone.”
She was quiet for a time before stating simply, “Destiny can be a son of a crow sometimes.”
He stared at the city below, his head held high. “I redirected my energies. I’ve had an impeccable career.”
“You have.”
He nodded, never glancing at her. “We take what the stars give us and make the most of it. And what’s out of reach...” He paused, then added in a professional tone, “So, you see now how your feelings are misplaced.”
“Have you considered speaking with Clover? Or a unicorn physician? They might have methods…”
He drew his lips in a tight line. “I could never let them know.”
“That you were injured?”
“That I’m…” he closed his eyes and searched for a word. “Broken. That I’m barely a stallion.”
“I told you that you’re the finest stallion I know of.” If there was pity in her heart, it was hidden by her even tone.
Hurricane sighed and opened his eyes, hazarding a glance at her. Pansy studied him, her head tilted, her face flat and relaxed.
“You didn’t know then,” he pointed out. “You thought I was whole.”
“My opinion hasn’t changed.”
“Then you’re a fool.” He shook his head. “I’m not capable of the most basic function of a stallion.”
Pansy shrugged. “What’s that to my judgement of you? I have no idea if General Swiftwing or General Highwind are in working order, and it’s none of my business if they are or not. I still judge you their superior, because you are the greater stallion in every noble way.”
“I’ve made it the aim of my life,” he said softly.
“You’ve been successful.” She looked him in the eye with nothing but calm approval.
“Perhaps.” He nodded. “I think so, sometimes, when I’m not reminded of the ways I’m unfit.”
“You can’t sire foals…” Pansy tilted her head. “And you can’t join with a mare?”
Hearing it stated so plainly in her calm voice nearly made him cringe, but he held his face steady. “No.”
She gave another small shrug, still looking him in the eye. “This seems a minor weakness in the face of your accomplishments.”
Hurricane looked away, this time up at the night sky. It seemed crowded with the stars that guided the fates of ponies, and all of them were mocking him. “To be forced to hold one's heart at a safe distance is no small weakness.”
“What forces you to do that?”
He looked at Pansy next to him, a beautiful mare with unmatched honor and a strength of spirit he thought existed only in legend. He drew himself up in a futile attempt to match her.
“My honor. I could never court a mare under false pretenses, yet I can tell nopony. I can’t court a mare who might someday wish to continue her line, knowing that would end with me. I won’t subject a mare to a life without foals or pleasure because I might trick her into loving me.”
“I can understand that loving you means an end to one’s line, but…” She turned to look out at the town below as she went on, “With all due respect, I do not believe for a moment it would deprive a mare of pleasure. Even at a tactical disadvantage, you would never let that keep you from giving your very best. Short a weapon, you’d fight with your hooves and whatever else might be available, fiercely and to the finish.” She bit her lip. “Of course, if you didn’t want to because you couldn’t take joy in it, I would understand.”
He shook his head with a frown, looking down on the same scene. His words came in a strained, uncertain voice that he hardly recognized. “I couldn’t care less for the joy a stallion takes. At this point I—I just want to feel the body of a mare… and... to know I could please her without thinking she’s lying out of pity or sympathy.”
“Have you tried?”
Still focused on the town, Hurricane thought of the mares through the years who’d made it clear his advances wouldn’t be unwelcome. There had been many when he was an officer or a young commander, but none worth the risk. Even Pansy hadn’t overcome that calculation.
“I thought not,” she answered his silence. “Your cowardice prevents you knowing if you even have reason to fear.”
Hurricane’s head snapped to look at her with a scowl on his face. “You call me a coward, Major?”
Pansy raised her eyebrows. “Is there another word for a pony who never follows their heart because they fear failure?”
His frown deepened and his eyes narrowed. “And I suppose I must prove my bravery in your bed.”
She held the same even expression on her face, but her words were soft and unsure, “Is that where your heart leads you?”
Closing his eyes, Hurricane rubbed a hoof over his face. “My heart leads me to leave you be. To leave you for a stallion who can be everything for you, who can sire your foal, who will never look upon your bed with fear or regret.”
“Begging your pardon, but that’s griffon shit, and we both know it well.” Her voice was firm, with little room for question. “Even if I had a whole division’s worth of potential suitors, would you not trust me to know my own desires?”
“I would be concerned that your care for me as a friend and pity for my state would sway you,” Hurricane said, slowly and forcefully.
“Do you love me?”
He looked at her in surprise at the bluntness of the question. That was his mistake; in his shock he had no mask, and the second he caught sight of her beautiful purple eyes there was no need for an answer.
Pansy’s mouth twitched to a frown and those beautiful eyes narrowed. “If your heart leads you to deny me love so that you can hide from your weakness, you are the lowest kind of coward, who would harm an innocent to protect himself.”
“I would never harm you,” Hurricane said sincerely.
“Yet you did!” she snapped, rising to her hooves to give full force to her words. “When I tried to tell you of my feelings, you insulted my reason and honor to hide this from me. If this cruelty is really your heart, it is not as a stallion you are unfit. It is as a pony.”
Seeing her looking down on him, Hurricane stood himself, a head taller than the slight mare. His eyes narrowed. “I did that only to spare us both worse. You said in your own words that you wanted me to sire a foal on you, that you thought of me as a virile stallion! I can never be the stallion you want. You ask me to subject myself to a life of constant failure in your eyes…” The thought of it stole all power and passion, and he finished in a choked voice, “I can’t do that.”
Pansy’s face didn’t move, the angry mask held firm. She spoke each word as sharp as a knife, looking up into his face, “Six thousand, one hundred spears.”
He hesitated for only a moment, but she went on,
“You stood and watched me throw six thousand, one hundred spears. And we both know I would have thrown a million more. I could never be the soldier you wanted, I faced pain and failure every day, for four months. And I asked you for more of it each time; my only fear was that you’d say no, and I’d lose the chance to make you want me for a soldier.”
Hurricane swallowed. “You should have asked.to be transferred. You could have destroyed your shoulder.”
“I knew what I wanted. Do you know what you want?”
He stared at her, at the lightning flashing in her eyes, at her small body held proud and unyielding, at the moonlight shining on her face and shoulders.
“I do,” he said softly. “I always have.”
“Then fight for it with honor!” Pansy shouted. “And damn the failure and humiliation to Tartarus where it belongs.”
Hurricane didn’t give himself time to consider, he stepped towards her and pressed his lips to hers in a deep kiss. He channeled all of his passion and longing into it. Nothing else mattered at that moment; nothing but Pansy and the years of love he had to make her understand.
When they parted, the fury had melted from her face, replaced by a stunned awe. He stepped closer, feeling her nuzzle his neck as he smelled the fresh scent of soap and clean air in her mane.
Hurricane tried to speak, and his voice came out in a desperate whisper, “Pansy, I— I knew I could never love a pony. I made our tribe, our… spirit my only love.” He swallowed and closed his eyes. “And then you stood before me, and I saw all of the strength and honor I had dedicated my life to, in the form of a beautiful mare. You became my most loyal soldier, my most trusted advisor, and the dearest friend I’ve ever had. I— I would do anything for you, I would give my life for you, but…”
With strength he didn’t know he possessed, he stepped back and steadied himself, looking into her eyes. “You want to continue your line, as a pony of your worth should. I would steal that from you. Even if I can please you when we lay together, there will always be a way I can’t join with you. There’s no dishonor in considering those things, they are fact.” He took a breath and felt tears stinging his eyes as he added, “But whatever you decide, I will always love you.”
Pansy didn’t hesitate. She laid a hoof gently on the side of his face, and with the stars shining in her eyes she answered, “I want you, Hurricane, and only you. I never thought I wanted a courtship, but when I considered asking you to sire my foal and realized how I welcomed the idea of laying with you, I realized I already have the stallion I need in my life. A pony I see daily in nearly every capacity. A pony who has respected me and supported me in my career and cared for me tenderly as a friend. A pony I respect in turn so deeply and passionately that to call it love seems to cheapen it… but I think that is its proper name.”
As she finished, familiar fears began to crowd Hurricane’s mind, but he shoved them aside and forced himself to ask, “Pansy… will you come home with me tonight?”
“It would be an honor.” Pansy smiled up at him. Her hoof ran down his cheek and neck before she pulled it away and cocked her head to the side with a mischievous smirk. “Though, I should warn you to expect no pity from me. I demand your best efforts, nothing less, and I will not accept surrender. You’ll be dismissed when, and only when, I give you leave. Is that clear, Commander Hurricane?”
Against all reason, Hurricane felt a smile spread across his face. He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Good.” She walked over and leaned against him, offering another nuzzle under his chin. “Let’s go home.”
Hurricane arrived at his office precisely on time that morning, though he yawned a good bit more than usual and sent young officers scurrying to bring him coffee several times. But in spite of spending most of his early meetings grunting responses to issues he was barely following, he couldn’t deny he was in good spirits.
By mid-morning he was in his usual form, except for his wings which were determined to remind him of his age and foolishness. He was bent over his desk, reviewing reports when there came a knock on his door.
“Come in,” he called, glancing up to see the door opened by the last pony he expected, or wanted, to see.
“Cushy office you’ve got here,” Puddinghead said, looking around and nodding approvingly.
Hurricane glared at her.
“I got Clover to cast a spell. It wouldn’t ‘ve been right to ask you to come down for an apology. And with how deep I put my hoof in it, I owe you the best I can offer.” She walked over and leaned against his desk, earning another glare. “So, you’ve my deepest apologies. I was an ass, and I don’t deny it.”
“Apology accepted,” he said, in hopes she might get out of his sight.
“Very well.” Puddinghead nodded, but made no move to leave. “Probably doesn’t matter to you anyhow. That sort of thing only counts from ponies of honor, right? We both know I’ve got none.”
Giving a snort, Hurricane shook his head and turned back to his reports.
“You know, I never minded being called a mud pony,” Puddinghead said casually. “It suits me. I fight dirty, I play dirty, I talk dirty. It got me made Chancellor. Cookie’s got more brains in his hoof than I do in my head, but put us on a debate platform in town square and I’ll have him stammering and fuming so he can’t put two words together. That’s how we played politics in Girthshire; he was miserable at it.”
During her rambling Hurricane had glanced up, and he leaned back in his chair studying her with a stony expression.
Puddinghead offered him a shrug and a grim smile. “But… there’s no more Girthshire, and no more mud ponies. I’m an earth pony in Equestria now, but sometimes I can’t get the mud off my hooves.”
A silence fell between them for a few long seconds before Hurricane frowned and spoke, “I earned my position in battle. Promotions for bravery and honor, tactics and skill… every one of them at the cost of blood and corpses of ponies and griffons raining from the sky.” He raised his eyebrows at Puddinghead. “That’s how we played politics in Hippocampus.”
She gave a snort. “A bit rough on the losers, eh?”
Hurricane nodded slowly.
“So does blood wash off easier than mud?” she asked, with a sad smile he had to count as sympathetic.
Hurricane drew a breath and let it out, his face softening to his normal impassive expression. “You’ve heard me in council. Reaching for the spear comes too easily to me. It’s a decisive answer to many problems, and my troops have the bravery and skill to see it through.”
Puddinghead raised her eyebrows at him with that same sad sympathy.
He nodded. “There’s no more Hippocampus, and the princess and you all keep me in check. I can’t say I don’t miss the glory of a successful campaign at times, but… this is a new world.” He gave Puddinghead a pointed look that managed to match her sympathy as he finished, “You and I are old ponies, we’ve got to do our best to keep up.”
“It’s a better world. And you’re quite right.” She grinned. “Especially mucking about with you. It’s all in good fun until somepony gets run through with a spear.”
Hurricane met her eyes. “You came close last night.”
‘I thought—” Puddinghead’s smirk and the twinkle in her eyes suggested she had been about to say something ill-advised, but looking in Hurricane’s eyes she stopped and closed her mouth firmly with a slow nod.
The smirk remained on her face as she drew a breath and started again, “Never been fond of spears, myself. There’re a hoofful of mares down there who can vouch for that.”
Caught off guard, Hurricane raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.
“I suppose I know better than anypony that there are things you’d rather have stay under the covers.” Puddinghead tilted her head. “But those ponies can also tell you there’s more than one way to please a mare. Get a bit of practice and maybe you’ll rest easier.”
Hurricane stared at her for a moment, then he started to chuckle and shook his head. “You’re a rotten old scoundrel. But you’re not a bad pony.”
“No need to sweet talk me now, I wasn’t volunteering,” she said with a grin.
“Get out of my office,” he said with a smile, motioning to the door. “I’ll see you at council.”
“I’ll be there, whether you want me or not,” Puddinghead said cheerfully as she turned and walked out the door.
As she left, Hurricane chuckled again and went back to his reports. With Puddinghead taken care of, he knew the rest of his friends had at least some sense of honor, decency, or self-preservation. Aside from an apology he knew he owed Cookie for the slur against his tribe, and a private conversation he intended to have with Clover, the matter was likely dropped.
He glanced out the window at the clear sky, feeling less burdened than he could remember in his life.
***
Pansy stood outside Clover’s school on the sunny lawn, waiting for Hurricane to finish talking to their friend. She smiled and absentmindedly appreciated a bed of flowers; the night before had proven conclusively that all fears on this matter belonged to Hurricane alone. While she wished him well with all her heart, she had no doubt that even bad news could be soothed over the course of more nights like last night.
In the center of the flower bed stood a statue of Lord Oblige, a unicorn noble who had given what Clover described as a whole rump-load of gems to finance the school and library. She wondered if he had heirs, and if any of them might do more for the future than his donation would. On the one hoof, they may be mages, or heroes, or simply keep his generosity alive through future generations. On the other, his donation was already assisting in magical research that would lead to greater and greater discoveries, and training the students who would become teachers of those things.
She thought of her own mother, whom she’d hardly known. Springwind was famous as a fierce and skilled warrior, she’d organized a campaign against the griffons so bloody that it led to a treaty which lasted three whole months. She fell in battle when Pansy was young, so Pansy was left to wonder if her mother had actually had any traits that might keep Equestria strong, or if it was an accident of the stars that her honor foal had matched her in renown.
As she was thinking, the door to the school opened, and Hurricane stepped out. Pansy smiled at him before he even saw her. He held his head high as always and looked as if he’d been there on important business, but he quickly glanced around and smiled as he caught sight of Pansy.
Pansy flew over to him and offered a nuzzle before falling in step beside him as they crossed the well tended lawn. “How did it go?”
He kept his face even and gave a shrug. “There’s little hope for a permanent solution, but there’s a chance she might be able to assist if we want a foal.”
She considered that. “Do you want a foal?”
“Yes. With you.” He gave a soft chuckle. “I never dared hope for it.”
“Then we’ll try whatever Clover can offer us.” She stepped close to him and brushed against his solid body. “And if we can’t have one, there will be no apologies.”
“If I can’t sire a foal, I’m still the luckiest son of a crow in Equestria. And one pony is responsible for that above all others.” Hurricane glanced over at her with a smile that he seemed to have invented last night, one of such fondness that Pansy felt her cheeks warm each time.
“If that’s true, that pony is you,” she said. He raised a skeptical eyebrow, and she answered it, “You gave me more second chances than there are stars in the sky. You made the decision to join our tribe to Equestria before there was an Equestria, and you dealt with the opposition and malcontents. And last night, it was you who stepped forward to be the stallion I always knew you were.”
He glanced over at her again. “If I stepped forward last night, it was past my own failings and only at your prodding.”
“You don’t want to argue with me about this, Hurricane.” Pansy looked at him with mock severity. “I’m quite proud of my commander.”
Hurricane gave an amused snort, and a knowing smile crossed his weathered face. “Pansy. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve known what must be done, and my job has been to move the stars to make it happen. I’m not sure I’ve ever been your commander.”
Pansy returned the same smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I won’t tell anypony if you won’t, Sir.”
