> Haunted Wasteland
>  by forbloodysummer
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> S
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fluttershy is missing! She was last seen at her cottage, being visited by a siren-turned-pony named Sonata Dusk, who showed up in Ponyville a few months ago, and the place hasn’t quite been the same since. Fluttershy isn’t the most confident or independent of ponies, and the Elements of Harmony are useless as a defence without her. More than anything, though, she’s my friend. Can I count on you personally to help with this, Captain Spitfire?

The scroll had appeared in the air in front of her, falling at her hooves on the grass at Wonderbolts HQ. She’d let the squad stand at ease while she read it, taking a few seconds to decipher the hasty scrawls on the page. It was less formal than any other set of orders she’d ever received, even during the Tirek incident, but Princess Twilight’s signature looked genuine, if rushed, and the dragonfire delivery method was authentication in itself.

“Soarin,” she commanded, “I’m urgently needed elsewhere. You have the Academy until I get back. Don’t let Fleet burn the place down.” Right then. Off to Ponyville I go.


*


 

“I’ve never actually been in one of these rooms before,” Spitfire said as way of announcing her presence as she stepped into the dim, cramped observation room. Princess Twilight, standing at the window which dominated the only important wall, looked over and breathed a sigh of partial relief. The room’s other occupant, a unicorn mare who appeared almost the same shade as the princess – though it was hard to tell in the gloom – gave a polite smile, but she also glanced up at the clock beside the door. Noticing the sweat on each of their brows and the nervous tightness around their eyes, Spitfire caught the door with a back hoof before it swung completely closed, turning to duck her muzzle through it and catch sight disappearing back down the corridor of the stallion who’d escorted her to the room upon her arrival. “And could we get a round of tea for everypony, please?” Spitfire called out to him, “I think we might be in here a while.”

She returned her attention to the observation room and the two ponies within, pushing the door closed behind her before the stallion outside could form more of a protest than indignant splutters. As if she didn’t have the rank as captain to demand a tea run from anyone but the princess herself. Not that she was there to pull rank or demand pampering, obviously, but there was a job that needed doing, and caffeine got jobs done.

“Princess,” Spitfire said, deciding to incline her head respectfully, both out of how she knew that particular member of the royalty felt about salutes, and a hunch that what the princess was really looking to her for in that situation was an expert adviser, rather than a subordinate lackey.

“Spitfire,” came the relieved answer, and the choice of address by name rather than rank confirmed she’d read the princess correctly. When Twilight closed the distance between them and threw herself into a hug, though, Spitfire realised she hadn’t gone nearly far enough in her estimation. She quickly covered her surprise and awkwardness being hugged by somepony she’d only met a few times, and tried to balance the tenseness of it between tender, supportive and dependable. It also reminded her of how her body ached from the fast flight there, and she realised as she felt a cold bead of sweat drip down from under her feathers that she couldn’t exactly have smelled good either.

Spitfire dipped her eyes to the floor, not knowing if she should close them or not, and uncomfortably aware that the other purple mare was watching them. What I would give for my trusty sunglasses right now...

Princess Twilight pulled away after a few moments and shook herself, nodding her head briefly as if to pull herself together, and then held out a hoof to indicate her companion.

“This is Starlight Glimmer, she’s my friendship student and she lives with Spike and I.” Starlight gave a wave, her lips pressed together into a perfunctory smile, and trotted over, though the room was so small that doing so only took a couple of hoofsteps. Spitfire gave an acknowledging nod in return, though of course not as deep as the one the princess had received. “Starlight Glimmer, Captain Spitfire,” Twilight completed the introductions with a wave of her hoof between them.

Spitfire returned the tight-lipped expression, less of a smile and more a reassurance that they’d find a way to make things ok again, and each of them looked between the other two.

“So, what do we know?” Spitfire asked, turning towards the large window that was obviously one-way glass. Beyond, a featureless room about twice the size of theirs contained a powder-blue earth pony sat on a simple chair behind a plain desk. She had a mane of darker shades of blue pulled back into a high ponytail and a cutie mark of a musical note over a heart, and she smiled absently while waiting in the interrogation room alone.

“Rainbow Dash flew by Fluttershy’s cottage this morning,” Twilight said while Spitfire continued to observe the suspect, who was humming to herself, “but she was nowhere to be found.” Spitfire glanced over her shoulder at Twilight, who cut her off before she could raise a questioning eyebrow. “No sign of struggle.”

Not that Fluttershy had struck Spitfire as one to put up much of a fight, but nor did the earth pony beyond the glass.

“Rainbow flew back to town, asked around, and found that nopony had seen Fluttershy at all in the last three days.”

“It took three days for anypony to notice?!” Spitfire blurted out, wide-eyed. Only years of honing lightning fast flight reflexes saved her from her outrage carrying into her voice, filtering it at the last instant to mere surprise. If Spitfire were shocked by such a thing, then for the Princess of Friendship it might well have been a personal insult, and she could probably do without the reminder.

“It’s not unlike her,” the princess sighed, looking down and away, and Spitfire realised she’d turned herself away from the window to give Twilight her full attention. “If nopony saw Pinkie Pie for a day, alarm bells would be ringing,” the princess continued, as the other mare – Starlight – reached out and put a hoof on her shoulder. “But Fluttershy’s quite the introvert, and some days other ponies can be a bit much for her, especially in crowds. So it’s not uncommon for her to go a day or two without leaving her cottage.”

The look Twilight gave her was almost pleading. Good going, Spitfire. Ok, time to try to drain some of the emotion back out of it, bring it back to professionalism, let the princess find shelter in her rational side.

Subtly softening her usual demeanour with some soothing tones, Spitfire asked, “And where was she last seen?”

Probably sensing that Twilight still needed a moment, Starlight spoke up, keeping her voice neutral. “Lyra and Bon Bon saw her and Sonata” – Starlight rolled her head on her neck to point to the pony through the window – “leaving the morning market together three days ago, heading in the direction of her cottage.”

So she hadn’t been alarmed by Sonata’s presence, at least, or had left with her under duress but hidden it well. Spitfire couldn’t really picture Fluttershy concealing her fear convincingly enough for others not to notice, and so suspected the amiability of Fluttershy heading off from market with Sonata had been genuine. And just how amiable had the two of them been?

“And when you say leaving together...?” she prompted.

That did the trick with Princess Twilight, who forgot all guilt and anxiety in favour of disbelief. “Oh, goodness, I certainly don’t think so,” she frantically shook her head, mane swaying chaotically as she did so.

There was a small chance, Spitfire supposed, that Fluttershy had been hiding the truth from Twilight and the others, because the princess was very quick to deny it, and regularly needing a day or two alone at home to recover from the stress of dealing with ponies sounded like an ideal cover story for meeting a secret lover.

But again, Spitfire was standing opposite the Princess of Friendship. If anypony knew her friends well enough to be trusted in such matters, it was likely to be her. The suggestion had snapped Twilight straight out of her funk, though, and perhaps pushing it one further was likely to secure the ground gained.

“I dunno,” Spitfire mused, “she could do a lot worse.”

Starlight, still standing behind the princess, gave Sonata a considering look, and then made a ‘you have a point’ face. Her muzzle soon scrunched up into a light frown, though. “Sonata’s not exactly single,” she said, leaning back against the far wall.

“And everypony in Ponyville knows it,” Twilight added before Spitfire’s thoughts got much further than how that didn’t necessarily rule anything out.

“She’d have to be really stupid to meet with Fluttershy so publicly,” Starlight said, pushing herself up and crossing the room to stand beside Spitfire, facing the one-way glass, “if they had that kind of relationship.”

Princess Twilight also moved to stand next to Spitfire, who turned, so the three of them stood in a row watching Sonata, hoping for some clue they could gain from observation while they spoke.

“And is she?” Spitfire asked. “Really stupid, I mean.”

Sonata had taken to leaning back on the rear legs of her chair, balancing there with a particularly vacant expression and humming louder than before as the three ponies behind the glass looked on unseen.

“Fair point,” Starlight conceded.

Could the pony in front of them really be responsible for foalnapping an Element of Harmony? The ultimate defence of Equestria brought down by somepony who looked like she hardly knew what day it was? Not that Fluttershy was known for being tough or anything, from what Dash had said, but the Elements together had taken down far more threatening creatures, whatever a siren-turned-pony might be and wherever she came from.

“And where is Dash, by the way?” Spitfire said, still not taking her eyes off Sonata. “I have some idea how close she and Fluttershy were; I’m surprised she’s not here trying to tear limbs off to get answers.” That’s what Spitfire would be doing if Soarin were missing, her childhood friendship with him sounding a lot like how Rainbow had described her bond with Fluttershy.

Starlight grunted. “She’s in the hospital, under heavy sedation, for exactly that reason.”

Bet she took that well. The way Starlight had twitched when Dash was mentioned suddenly made a lot more sense, as Spitfire imagined the struggle they must have had. It was a small wonder Starlight and the princess weren’t sporting bruises.

“The sirens have a reputation for ruthlessness,” Twilight said, clutching at herself with a forehoof and tugging her mane, “and may have Fluttershy as a hostage. Rainbow losing her temper with one of them would be, uh, risky, however justified.”

Rainbow hardly seemed the sort who might hit a defenceless pony in custody, but she was certainly protective of her friends, especially Fluttershy. And if pushed in the right way, then possibly...? If she did snap, it wasn’t like anypony would be able to stop her before she did anything she might later regret; Spitfire knew firsthoof how fast Dash was.

So they’d put one of their best assets out of action themselves. Whoever the enemy was, and whatever they wanted, it sounded like ponies were doing their work for them.

“Right,” Spitfire said, drawing a line under musings that were getting them nowhere, “shall we go talk to the suspect?” They needed answers, and Sonata was the one pony who might be able to provide them.

As Spitfire turned towards the door, Twilight fidgeted where she stood and asked “Don’t you want to let her s-sweat for a bit longer?”

Spitfire looked back over her shoulder to answer, saying, “I’m sweatier than she is, Princess.” She grimaced at the thought of how long she’d been standing so close to royalty that their shoulders had almost touched, when she still stank from her fast flight there. “I’m not sure she has the presence of mind to be nervous about her situation.” She cast a final glance back at Sonata, who looked to be personifying ignorance as bliss.

“How do you want to play this?” Starlight raised her voice, still standing at the window as Spitfire headed for the door.

Do they think I’ve done this before? She’d mentioned never having been in an observation room before, which she’d have thought carried that implication with it. She didn’t know the first thing about interrogating ponies or interviewing suspects. Hopefully it wasn’t too different to breaking in new recruits. All she really knew was that, for all her time watching Sonata and discussing her with Starlight and the princess, not much progress had been made, and the tea still hadn’t arrived.

“No idea,” Spitfire called without looking back. “But I can’t stand standing here doing nothing, so let’s just start simple and see how it goes.”
> o
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“Ok,” Spitfire pinched the bridge of her nose, “let’s try going through this one more time,” the last three words coming out through clenched teeth. The tea set lay to one side, long emptied, its calming properties long forgotten. Sonata sat opposite her at the table, somehow still aimlessly smiling. Silver Tongue, her unfortunate lawyer who'd been called in only to be totally ignored, sat beside her with his head in his hooves, several hours past making his final attempt to advise Sonata not to answer a question. “Where were you three days ago, around the time of morning market?”

Sonata took a deep breath. Spitfire glanced behind her to see Twilight leaning forwards to listen, while Starlight sat further back with her head propped up on one hoof, not bothering to hide her scowl. By rights, Starlight should have been the one with the most patience, having had a break when she’d left and returned an hour later, her only explanation being the two words ‘background research.’ When Spitfire turned back to Sonata, she was looking up at the ceiling with her head cocked to one side.

“I was at the market talking to that pony with the stall with all the seeds,” she said, looking more directly towards the others as she went on and gaining more confidence in her memory, “asking him about planting a taco tree, as my coltfriend said he’d buy me one if I could find one for sale anywhere.” Spitfire didn’t sigh or close her eyes in exasperation, but only because she was a professional and there was a princess in the room. The coltfriend had been a regular feature of Sonata’s different stories through the afternoon, as had tacos, whatever they were.

“Anyway,” Sonata continued, triggering Spitfire’s now-automatic counting of the number of times that word appeared per story, “I was there when this row of geese paraded past. Five of them I think, or maybe six.”

Sonata stopped to think for a moment. Starlight groaned.

“No, wait, there were seven!” Sonata confirmed. “Yes, definitely seven, I’m sure of it.”

Did she think Spitfire would be checking witness statements on the number of geese present? Should Spitfire be checking the number of geese on the witness statements? Was that something police forces would actually do?

“Anyway,” Sonata returned to topic, and Spitfire’s mental tally increased to two, “I thought, that’s quite strange seeing geese here at the market when ponies don’t eat meat, that’s like them farming pigs or something, but maybe they sell geese for feathers for making quills, since you don’t seem to have pens here?” Sonata looked to the others for answers, but only impatient stares replied. Spitfire wasn’t sure what a pen was, even if responding wouldn’t have distracted even further from the story. “And for eggs and stuff?”

Eggs... How long had it been since Spitfire last ate? It felt like they’d been in the interview room forever. Spitfire dared not look at the clock, but she knew they all must have missed at least one meal. Somehow Sonata still had the energy to keep talking and talking, each tale more ridiculous than the last, with no method Spitfire had tried proving effective for producing anything but more of the same.

“Anyway,” – three – “I thought they must have escaped from one of the farm stalls or something, so I went after them, but they started honking at me. I tried honking back” – because of course she did – “but  it didn’t work so well, and when I got close they were all hissy and tried to bite me.” Taking her eyes from Sonata for a second, Spitfire checked the princess and Starlight were doing ok. A quick look showed them in further-progressed forms of their previous stances, with Starlight looking like she’d fall asleep from boredom if she wasn’t so irritated, and Twilight hunched in rapt attention.

“So I tried grabbing one to cuddle it to show everything was ok, but they all ducked back out of reach.” Sonata’s brows drew down, and her eyes flicked down to one side. “I mean ducked like they went under my arms,” she clarified, as if it was needed, “not like they all became ducks or something; they were definitely geese, ducks smell completely different. Anyway, I kept trying, but they just waddled away faster.”

The witnesses hadn’t mentioned any geese, but then they’d hardly been asked about them, either. Spitfire wasn’t exactly the sort of pony who visited markets often, so she couldn’t really say how likely it was that geese would be there. It sounded plausible, though. Slightly too plausible to ignore. Just like the previous stories had.

“Then a really helpful yellow pony came up beside me and offered to help,” Sonata ploughed on, and Spitfire’s ears pricked up for details on Fluttershy, anything that might catch Sonata out by her letting on more than she ought to know, “saying she was good with animals. She tried talking to the geese, but they weren’t listening, and kept heading further and further away from the market.”

Spitfire shifted in her seat, unable to remember the last time she’d remained sitting down for so long.

Sonata continued, “We went after them, trying to get closer without scaring them off, but they were always slightly too quick for us. And when Fluttershy flew ahead so that we could trap them between us, they just went off to one side towards the town hall.” Was it believable that an expert in animal care would have trouble herding seven geese? She really didn’t know enough to judge. When she’d woken up that morning, that wasn’t a question Spitfire had expected to be asking herself before the day was out.

“I’m not sure what was going on outside,” Sonata said, with Spitfire remembering a moment later that ‘outside’ referred to being outside the town hall, “the banners said something about a ming vase festival, but the geese ran straight through the middle of it.” That would be checkable, at least, once Sonata was done with her story. “They honked but nopony got out of the way, and we were trying to catch them before anything could go wrong but they got all flappy and knocked lots of the white pottery things on the tables onto the floor.”

That sounded like something that Spitfire might have heard reports of if true, having been in the police station all day. Again she looked briefly around the room behind her, to see if the others could confirm or deny it. Princess Twilight looked to be in mild shock, probably over the destruction of pottery, and Starlight appeared so humourless that Spitfire wouldn’t have been surprised if Ponyville’s legendary party pony kicked down the door to bring Starlight emergency balloons and cake. Neither showed any recognition of hearing about it before now, though.

Sonata carried on regardless, “I’d thought the ponies around the tables would be angry and shout at me and Fluttershy, but they said that stuff wasn’t important and all they really wanted to do was make sure all the geese were ok.” Spitfire knew nothing of ming vase collectors, but her suspicions were definitely raised. She tried not to let it spread to her eyebrows.

“By that time, though, the geese had snuck into the town hall, and we got there to see them disappearing through to the back room. Luckily the mayor was already in there” – aha, somepony we could actually verify the story with – “and she quickly stopped stuffing all those bits into that black suitcase and helped us drive the geese back outside.” ...Or not. Spitfire bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to maintain the will not to sink her face into her hooves. Twilight, a glance revealed, was frozen in place, staring at Sonata with bulging eyes. Quite an accomplishment, given how many hours they’d been listening to Sonata for already, but then she hadn’t implicated elected officials before. Starlight’s mouth was hanging a little way open, and from the raised eyebrow it looked like she might even be impressed.

Sonata didn’t even slow down. “Once they were through the main door they headed straight for the river, and we both tried to cut them off but they went around us again.” Just how fast could geese waddle, exactly?! “They got to the water and swam away downstream, and we were about to jump in after them when we saw them going to the far bank, where we spotted their nests.” Again, that was verifiable, at least; somepony could check if there were any geese nesting on the river through Ponyville downstream from the town hall.

“And that was when we realised... we’d been chasing wild geese all along.”

...

Hoof covered face.

Spitfire didn’t see how anypony else reacted, being too busy shaking her head while burying it in both hooves. Behind her, she heard Twilight sounding confused and concerned, speaking softly to Starlight.

“Wild geese? Why is that so bad? I didn’t even know we had them nesting in Ponyville.”

Lowering her forelegs just enough to see out over her hooves, Spitfire took in the scene. Sonata at least wasn’t openly giggling, just sitting there with her too-innocent smile. Silver Tongue had his eyes screwed so tightly closed that muscles in his cheeks were twitching, a picture of a pony wishing he could be anywhere else in Equestria at that moment. Spitfire turned to look back at the other two just as Starlight started speaking, in a voice like granite.

“It was a wild goose chase, Twilight, that whole story.”

Relieved she wasn’t the one to have to explain that to a princess, Spitfire gave Starlight a look of silent gratitude. Twilight then looked to Spitfire for confirmation of the story assessment, to which she could only nod. Somewhere between grimly and helplessly.
> n
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“Look,” Spitfire said, fixing her eyes on Sonata with a no-nonsense glare and gripping the edge of the table, “we know you were at the market.”

“No you don’t,” she replied simply, far too confidently denying something they’d firmly established.

Spitfire wound the argument back to things they could incontrovertibly prove. “There’s a written statement from Lyra and Bon Bon here –”

“No there isn’t,” Sonata shook her head. She closed her eyes and lifted her chin haughtily. “I’ve never been to that market before in my life.”

Pinching her lips together, Spitfire paused for a moment to consider how to respond. If Sonata was now telling obvious, provable lies, perhaps that changed the situation legally, and how they ought to approach it.

Princess Twilight stepped in to fill the gap, though, before Spitfire could decide on a new approach.

“I spoke to you at the market two weeks ago!”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did! I was there, you know!”

“No you weren’t. You’ve never been there before either.”

The princess made a strangled noise, looking unable to process the statements which couldn’t possibly be true. Too many years associating with the Element of Honesty, Spitfire guessed, leaving her baffled when somepony so gleefully lied.

“Sonata...” Starlight began, making her own attempt at salvaging something while Twilight recovered.

“Who? I don’t know anypony called Sonata.”

Then Spitfire pounced. Verbally, of course. Physically she remained in her chair, and leaned forwards with her forehooves on the table top, staring at Sonata intensely.

“Your lawyer’s looking very uncomfortable, Sonata,” she said, sparing a glance for Silver Tongue, who cringed further. Spitfire wasn’t certain of the legal technicalities, but his reaction was encouragement enough that she was onto something. “He realises we could charge you for wasting our time.”

“Go on then,” Sonata answered, just as eagerly as before. Her voice held no concern, just a note of certainty as she added, “But you’ll never find your friend. Now you need us, come and heed us –”

“ ‘Nothing can stop us now,’ you sang last time,” Twilight interrupted, planting her hooves in front of her and half rising out of her chair, “and then I stopped you.” Starlight caught Spitfire’s eye, and they shared a worried look.

Twilight held her pose for a moment, staring Sonata down, before letting out a breath and sitting back down. Her resolve appeared to remain, though, as she finished, “Don’t make me bring out the magic rainbow beams again.”

Sonata didn’t even hesitate. She just giggled, “Good luck doing that without Fluttershy,” as if she hadn’t just escaped being flattened by an alicorn. Spitfire couldn’t attribute it solely to stupidity, though; Sonata must have had some idea of the risk. In which case she had nerve like nopony Spitfire had ever seen, and she worked with Wonderbolts every day.

Twilight seethed. Her nostrils were flaring in her reddened face. She said nothing, although Spitfire could hear teeth grinding from where she sat, even over the noise of Twilight’s heavy breathing.

“I remember how it felt, though,” Sonata said after a pause, sounding a lot more introspective. “Like something that had been part of you forever suddenly wasn’t there anymore.”

Spitfire flicked her eyes to Twilight after her teeth fell silent, and noted how the princess’s demeanour had mellowed a little with Sonata’s recollection. Even Starlight’s glower, having been present for several hours, now had a faintly sympathetic cast.

Tapping her chin, Sonata said, “I guess that’s what it would be like if you cut off a unicorn’s horn?” Twilight and Starlight both flinched, then shared a look of dread. Spitfire watched on, unable to really imagine it. She’d never once wanted a horn, always more than happy with her wings. And if I lost those... Her own shudder followed. She was her wings.

“Do you do that here, by the way?” Sonata asked, turning to Silver Tongue with apparent genuine interest for the first time. He seemed taken aback, both by the question itself and by his client actually paying attention to him.

“C-corporal punishment was outlawed in Equestria a long time ago,” he said, spluttering at first but managing to catch up with his presentation mid-sentence, and finishing as smoothly as might be expected of a lawyer with such a high price tag.

As he finished, Sonata gave a polite, enlightened nod, before she nudged him in the side with a knowing raise of her eyebrows. “But when you’re on holiday in another world, then who cares, right?”

Spitfire jumped in her seat as Twilight slammed her front hooves down on the floor, again half rising and leaning forwards. Rage still dominated her face, but there was a touch of guilt there, too. She didn’t quite shout, but it wasn’t far off.

“You were hurti –”

“Princess, this isn’t the time,” Spitfire cut in, rising and facing Twilight, and laying a stalling hoof on her chest. That was probably crossing lines of protocol, and she might pay for it later. Or now, even, if the princess was affronted and wanted to put Spitfire in her place. But it was the right decision, and in the best interest of their investigation, Spitfire was fairly sure, and if that meant she had to face consequences for it, then she would at least do so with her integrity intact. She fought down the urge to swallow.

“Don’t get angry with her,” she counselled, looking into Twilight’s eyes and trying to impress upon her the importance of Spitfire’s words, “it won’t help things right now.” Thankfully, Starlight was on her hooves by that point, laying a comforting hoof on Twilight’s shoulder and rubbing gently to calm her down.

With that established and Twilight restraining herself for the time being, Spitfire quickly moved to take control of the situation so Sonata wouldn’t feel let off the hook.

“ ‘Now you need us,’ you said,” Spitfire said as she turned back towards Sonata. Spitfire remained standing, placing just one forehoof on the tabletop and leaning forwards over it to look closely at Sonata from a similar height to her. “Maybe there are things you need from us, too.”

Before Sonata had a chance to respond, Starlight spoke up.

“Your coltfriend does a lot of business in Ponyville,” she said, and Spitfire took the opportunity to sit back down, “think how badly that would suffer if a princess boycotted his store.” To Spitfire, at least, it sounded persuasive rather than threatening, despite the implied ultimatum.

“Oh please,” Sonata snorted, “he’ll forgive anything if I smile at him the right way.” Silver Tongue somehow managed to look even more uncomfortable at that than he had before. Sonata added, “That’s how I bagged him in the first place.”

“You sure about that?” Spitfire asked, thinking of how she’d do that for precisely nopony.

“Oh yeah,” Sonata said, grinning and crossing her forehooves. “He lurrrrrves me!”

Well, so much for that line of persuasion. Sonata didn’t seem to care enough about anything to put pressure on her, or about anyone enough to apply pressure on her through them either. That said, the last two questions, about her coltfriend, might have been the first two she’d answered honestly all day. Maybe that line of questioning would be worth pursuing, in the hope something else honest would slip out amidst the innocuous answers?

“And... do you love him?” Spitfire asked, thinking on her hooves, trying to sound conversationally interested. It wasn’t unusual for police interviews to include background questions, right? She made circling motions with a hoof hanging below the angle of the table from Sonata’s view, a gesture she hoped Twilight and Starlight would pick up on as an encouragement to stay on the subject.

“Of course I do,” Sonata shrugged and smiled, “he makes me happy.” For a moment, Spitfire was impressed. Rapidly less so, as Sonata continued. “He’s always getting me wonderful little presents, and he buys me anything I want.”

And continuing the conversation along the same lines to keep Sonata talking put quite a limit on the sort of things Spitfire could say in response.

“That sounds... expensive,” she said.

Sonata beamed, “I’m his mid-life crisis.”
> a
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“I’m his mid-life crisis.”

These things happened, Spitfire supposed; there was no point being coy about it. Some ponies tried to find their youth again through trendy clothes or dangerous lifestyles, and others went for younger partners. She had never seen it so openly celebrated before, though, like Sonata was actually proud of it. Not many would take pleasure in being someone’s crisis. And yet she did, like a badge of honour. Never had something so cynical sounded so sweet.

Brows drawing down whilst trying to puzzle it out, Spitfire admitted, “I’m genuinely not sure if that’s romantic or not.”

If anything, Sonata looked even happier at that. Although it was anypony’s guess whether that was because a pony interviewing her had said something nice about her, or because Sonata had succeeded in confusing that pony.

Where did Spitfire go from there? Asking how long they’d been together? Potential foal names? She only narrowly managed to avoid a shiver at that thought.

She was spared from deciding by Starlight scoffing at the back of the room. “Romance is debatable,” she said, prompting Sonata to sneer at her. Clearly for Spitfire’s benefit, Starlight explained, “He was married, until she came along.”

“He’s still married!” Princess Twilight said from beside Spitfire, drawing all eyes with her first contribution since conquering her anger with silence.

“He can’t divorce her,” Sonata shrugged, totally unperturbed by the princess’ strength of feeling on the matter, “it’s some legal thing.”

Poor Silver Tongue – and what a strange feeling that was, sympathy for a high-price lawyer – suddenly found three ponies looking to him for an explanation, while Sonata yawned daintily with a hoof over her mouth.

He cleared his throat. “There are some confidentiality privileges involved, so let’s just leave it as ‘some legal thing.’ ” He looked at each of the interviewers in turn, giving each a firm smile. Spitfire took it to mean that he hoped they would be satisfied with his answer, because he wasn’t going to elaborate. Surprisingly, that suggested he still thought he had some control over the situation. Spitfire almost chuckled at the idea.

And as Silver Tongue really should have already learned that afternoon, Sonata would do whatever she wanted, whether he liked it or not, and had no such restraint when it came to sharing personal details.

“He stopped loving Spoiled Bitch a long time ago; she’s a trophy wife turned sour, and she needed replacing.” Was that the cutthroat social circle Sonata was used to inhabiting? It might explain a lot. But even the Canterlot elite, to Spitfire’s knowledge, were never so blunt about such matters. “But she gets to keep living in the house, and he lives with me in the penthouse he bought me.” That wasn’t so bad then, possibly?

“I see,” Spitfire said, acknowledging what Sonata had said without any implication of commenting on it. Oh, if Soarin could see her now, using actual tact and diplomacy! Shifting to the next harmless question, she said, “How did you two meet?”

Sonata did the usual thing happy couples do when you ask them that question, smiling as she looked up and to one side casting her mind back. “Aria laughed when I said I wanted to make my own money instead of just taking Adagio’s, like her, but I showed her!” Spitfire had been listening to and taking in every word, but the mentioning of the other two sirens’ names made her sharpen her focus to remember every detail of what Sonata said about them. “I found the richest stallion in Ponyville and seduced him,” Sonata continued, “so now I’m independent.”

I'm just going to leave that without comment.

“So he brings the money,” Spitfire said, “and you bring...?”

“He has a great wallet, I have a great flank; I don’t really see the difference.”

It wasn’t like one was head-over-hooves in love and the other was just in it for less noble reasons, so nopony was likely to be hurt over it. Perhaps love might even grow with time? Even without, Spitfire could see the advantages to such an understanding, and what went on between two ponies was none of her business anyway.

Twilight clearly did not feel the same way.

“My sister-in-law needs to pay you two a visit,” she growled.

“I don’t think so,” Sonata snapped, changing mood in a heartbeat, as if Spitfire hadn’t been reaching out to her by asking about her relationship. Had all that work just been undone? Thanks, Princess.

Of course Spitfire showed no outward sign of her frustration, contenting herself with shifting in her seat so she reclined a little more, and waiting to see where the conversation would go and when the next opportunity to get useful information from Sonata might come up.

“Maybe my sister-in-law needs to pay you two a visit,” Sonata said, looking between the princess and Starlight. Was that just a childish response from her, turning the statement around? Or was there more to it?

Maybe Starlight shared Spitfire’s frustration with resetting Sonata’s mood when they might have been heading towards progress, because she took up questioning Sonata in the same fashion where Spitfire had left off.

“They are your sisters, then, the other two sirens?” Impressively, she’d cut to useful information far more directly than Spitfire had managed. Not bad at all.

“Uh,” Sonata blushed, and for the first time she might actually have been on the back hoof in their exchanges, “no.” A second later, she added, “And technically neither of them are married, either.”

From Starlight’s question, Spitfire was beginning to appreciate how little ponies appeared to know about any of the sirens. She needed to get a full briefing soon on everything they did know, having jumped into the assignment blind. But she had to admire how firmly Twilight believed in friendship and forgiveness to let one of the sirens live in Ponyville, despite knowing barely anything about them.

Sonata continued, “Though I sometimes think of them as my sisters, even if they’re not.” The tiny shrug she gave said she knew it was silly, but also harmless.

Fleetfoot and Soarin’s faces came to Spitfire’s mind. She could relate. Not all families were bound by blood. She crossed her rear hooves in front of her, relaxing, but not too much so with the princess next to her.

“I spoke to Miss Cheerilee,” Starlight said, “at the school, about you today.” So that was where Starlight had disappeared to for an hour. Spitfire had hoped that at least one of their number had managed to escape going without lunch, but unless Starlight had grabbed something on the way, they must all have been in the same boat.

Starlight said, “She said Diamond Tiara talks about you like you’re her big sister.”

Who? Spitfire kept quiet and hoped that context would make the answer clear soon enough, folding her forehooves in her lap while waiting for the response.

Sonata rolled her eyes. “At first she was all like,” – Sonata put on a deliberately-stupid sneering foal’s voice – “ ‘Daddy, if you wanted someone evil, how could you choose a henchpony and not an overlord?’ ” That answered the question of who Diamond Tiara was, then. Sonata looked both indignant and despairing, shaking of her head and quietly huffing to herself. “But then she kinda realised how much nicer an evil siren is than her own mom.”

The trophy wife gone sour? Spitfire could believe that. Though of course they’d only heard Sonata’s side of it, which was as unreliable as sides came.

“Now I can’t get rid of her,” Sonata said, throwing her hooves up. “She’s just this annoying, half-good underling who follows me around and –” Sonata gasped, her conversation stopping in its tracks. “OMG, this is how Adagio must have felt!” Her wide-eyed gaze quickly swept across all the ponies in the room, even Silver Tongue, who’d otherwise been mostly forgotten. Her head quivered from side to side, and with her mouth hanging open her cheeks shook with each movement. “Look, I’m epiphanising!”

It was hard to be sure, with how the meaning of the last couple of sentences could only really be guessed at by somepony unfamiliar with the history Sonata referred to, but Spitfire thought she picked up on an admission in there. She shifted forwards in her chair so fast she almost dove off it, leaning low over the table on both her forehooves as she brought her muzzle to within a few hoofwidths of Sonata’s.

“So you’re saying you’re half-good?” she confirmed, her muscles tightening in the way they usually did on a derby starting line. She stared keenly into Sonata’s eyes, trying to find the truth there, and also challenge her into responding and perhaps revealing something.

“No!” Sonata said, but it was much more the denial of a foal caught in the act than the smug, smooth one she’d offered previously.

“Well it sounded a lot like that,” Spitfire pushed.

“No it didn’t,” Sonata’s petulant side came out further. “You must have heard it wrong.”

Starlight answered first, a voice from over Spitfire’s shoulder. “Why not repeat what you said then?”

Sitting back down, Spitfire raised her eyebrows at Sonata, waiting for her answer.

“No.” Sonata folded her forelegs across her chest, going back to her I’m-better-than-you pose of looking up to one side with her eyes closed.

Spitfire sighed. “We’ve already done the bit where you deny everything.” If the cycle started again, how long should they give it before giving up? Sonata was their only lead, but past a certain point they’d have to accept that she just wouldn’t be giving up anything she knew. Was that the time to get Princess Celestia involved, with her centuries of experience with tricky situations?

“No we...” Sonata trailed off.

Maybe it was that Spitfire’s boredom with going through that bit again showed on her face, when the thing Sonata wanted to see frustration, as she had done so far.

“Yeah, we have,” she picked up again. “Bored now.”
> t
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Yeah, we have. Bored now.”

In a way, it took enormous effort for Spitfire not to let the first sign of progress in many hours bring a smile with it. In another way, though, she’d been there for many hours, and the boredom was quite sincere. She watched Sonata half-heartedly with a hoof propping her head up on the arm of her chair.

Sonata reached a hoof up to the top of her head and appeared to push it into the crown of her mane. Before Spitfire had much chance to react, Sonata withdrew her hoof again, now holding a folded piece of paper. It was like that time Spitfire had seen a travelling magic show as a filly, only Sonata wasn’t wearing long sleeves to hide anything in.

“This was fun,” Sonata said as she held her hoof outstretched, offering the paper to Twilight, “we should do it again sometime.”

Dumbstruck but nevertheless desperate for any clue that might help, the princess reached for the paper with her magic as if in a trance, unfolding it in the air in front of her. Spitfire meanwhile fretted about what else Sonata might possibly be concealing in her magical mane, but happily couldn’t think of any weapons that small which would prove a serious threat to an alicorn. Unless rumours about certain amulets were to be believed, but even then, weren’t they for unicorns only?

“It’s a letter from Fluttershy,” Twilight said after scanning the first line. Spitfire felt her eyebrow wander upwards of its own accord, and saw the same expression mirrored on Starlight. The princess, now the sole focus of their attention, moved the letter much closer to her eye to peer at it for a few seconds, then added, “It’s definitely her hoofwriting, too.”

Finally, a solid clue! After hours of speculation and fruitless questioning, just the certainty of a letter existing was a huge leap forwards, whatever it said. It might not be reliable, of course, since a pony could be forced to write anything they were told to, but it was definitely something. Nopony in the room made a sound whilst Twilight read through the letter as quickly as she could.

“It says she’s agreed to be teleported across the desert by Adagio Dazzle,” Twilight reported. Adagio was the lead siren, from what Spitfire had gathered from Sonata over the course of the day. Perhaps hoofwriting experts would be able to offer some guidance on how willingly Fluttershy wrote the letter, based on how relaxed her writing looked?

And if it was genuine, then how far could they narrow it down? ‘Desert’ covered most of Equestria south of the Everfree Forest, from San Palomino to Dodge Junction.

“Does it say where?” she asked, not daring to get her hopes up.

“All it says is ‘her castle in the wasteland,’ ” Twilight replied with a frown. Not the most useful of specifics, but it did at least rule some places out. There were no castles in Appleloosa, for example.

“ ‘Wasteland’ could be anywhere,” Starlight said. Spitfire lowered her chin to her chest, regretfully agreeing. Still, a castle wouldn’t be hard to spot from the air, so perhaps pegasus search teams might be able to find something, if enough were sent out.

Starlight finished, “Even my old village could have been described as being in the wasteland.” That was somewhere east of the Neighagra Falls, from what Rainbow had said. So much for just the South. Spitfire felt a tightness in her chest. They would end up having to search half of Equestria! She held herself back from cradling her head in her hooves.

Twilight said, “I guess if you’re being teleported by somepony else, you don’t really need to know the exact address.” Teleporting somepony else was only possible with a buddy system, as far as Spitfire knew, but then, not being a unicorn, she was hardly an expert. So Adagio would have had to teleport into Fluttershy’s cottage, and then holding onto each other Adagio would have teleported them away again. Did it make any practical difference that Adagio had been there? Would that lead to any more clues?

Not to mention that that was a lot of effort to go to, and if Fluttershy had had time to write a letter then it couldn’t have been too pressing, so there’d probably been other, easier methods available, like hiring a balloon.

“And... why?” Spitfire asked.

The princess read on a bit further, then stopped and chuckled. “Adagio’s pet needs her help, apparently.” Twilight smiled, perhaps at her friend’s dedication to her favourite cause, perhaps at how far-fetched that explanation would have been for anypony else.

“He doesn’t, he’s fine,” Sonata scoffed, “she’s worrying about nothing.” She held a pose much like Spitfire’s had been shortly before, head leaning on one hoof on the table, and she rolled her eyes as she spoke. “I told her, but no, she was all ‘find me Equestria’s most calming vet.’ ”

“Sound ominous,” Spitfire said, biting her lip. “What kind of pet are we talking about here?”

Sonata’s eyes lit up, and a big grin quickly covered her face. “Not telling!” she said. Spitfire tried to spot malice in the expression, but saw mostly childish excitement. That was a minor reassurance, maybe?

Princess Twilight, who had been ignoring the last few bits of conversation to get the rest of the letter read as quickly as possible, then spoke up from where she had her muzzle buried in the paper.

“Fluttershy’s said she’s not sure she’ll be able to help, but she wants to try.” Twilight’s voice had a gleam to it, pride in her friend shining through. “She says please not to worry about her, as she’s sure anypony who cares that much about animals can’t be evil.”

Everypony’s smiles slipped a bit at that – perhaps except Sonata, who was barely listening anyway, but then Spitfire wasn’t sure if Sonata would have picked up on naivety to begin with.

“I hope she’s right,” Spitfire muttered, not making too big a point of it so as not to further worry the princess.

Before responding, Twilight’s eyes flicked through the letter a final time, and her eyebrows drew down. “No clue about what the pet is, though,” she then said.

Starlight’s lips flattened into a thin line, and her eyes were hard as she glared at Sonata. “She could be helping out a hungry shark by being fed to it, for all we know.”

A peal of laughter broke the atmosphere, and heads turned to Sonata. Silver Tongue – still there, as it turned out – looked openly worried. Sonata seemed genuinely mirthful, though, not mocking their frustration. “Wrong Bond villain,” she said.

Huh?

Still rosy-faced, but calmer, Sonata continued a few moments later. “No siren would ever keep a pet shark, I promise you that.” She sounded reassuring, a definite first for her that day, and Spitfire almost gasped aloud at how much more mature Sonata immediately seemed. It was like somepony had flipped a switch from child to adult in her brain.

“Fluttershy will be quite safe with Hades,” Sonata soothed, “and will come back as soon as she’s done.”

And Sonata sounded honest, and believable. Spitfire scarcely would have thought it possible, just a few seconds earlier. A whole day as an impetuous child, and then... But which side of Sonata was the act, and which the real thing? Hardly anything she’d said through the day could be trusted; was her new angle any more reliable?

Beside Spitfire, Twilight breathed a sigh of relief, several hours of tension visibly leaking away from her frame. While she hopefully hadn’t dropped her guard entirely, the further she was from anger or panic, the better.

“How did you do that with your mane?!” Twilight asked. Had she been itching to ask that ever since the letter made its appearance, but put it off until she had some confidence Fluttershy was safe? Or had that preoccupation meant the question only occurred to her now? “I’ve only ever seen Pinkie Pie do that, and just assumed she could do it as her mane was so big.”

Sonata blinked. “It’s a funny dimension thing,” she said. “I am the only one here to have lived in a different dimension, you know.”

And to think, I was worried about concealed weapons. Spitfire might have sat down hard, if she’d been standing, already feeling her skin tingling. Twilight didn’t look to be doing much better, trying to deal with shock, concern and excitement all at the same time.

“How does...?” Twilight began, petering out as she stared open-mouthed into the distance, as if they weren’t all sitting in a small room. “I mean, if your mane can...?”

Unnoticed by the princess, Sonata looked unamused. Her brows were drawn sharply down, underneath which her eyes were fixed on Twilight. “I’m being sarcastic,” she slowly explained. “I have a friend with big hair, and she taught me.”

That was one occasion on which Spitfire could definitely put up with embarrassment of not realising somepony was joking. As long as she didn’t have to think about inter-dimensional manes again, and in Sonata’s hooves, it was fine. Twilight looked less enthusiastic, but a lot of confusion still remained on her face. She raised a hoof to tug on her ear, and Sonata’s annoyed look became more bemused.

“It’s easy once you know how,” she said unhelpfully.

The sound of rustling papers came from behind Spitfire, and she glanced back to see Starlight leafing through a few pages in her hooves, frowning down at them. “Her file said she didn’t get sarcasm,” Starlight muttered, but the whole room heard.

“After somepony smashed our gems,” Sonata said, eyes boring into the princess, “Aria only talked in different levels of sarcasm. I had to learn quickly.”

Spitfire clamped her mouth shut to avoid laughing. Only talking in different levels of sarcasm wasn’t far off normal for Fleetfoot, and it sometimes spread to Misty Fly too when the two of them were working together. Sonata made it sound more abusive, though, and a glance sideways showed Twilight again shifting about in her chair.

“And why did you withhold this letter from us until now?” the princess asked, more steely than before, but also soon averting her gaze.

Smiling simply, Sonata still shot suspicious glances at Twilight, like she couldn’t quite believe she honestly had to explain it. “It’s the next letter in the comedy alphabet I learned: S for sarcasm, T for trolling.”

“You learned a comedy alphabet?” Spitfire asked, rubbing her eyelid. If somepony were truly that clueless about social interaction, then it made sense – vaguely – but still, that was quite the length to go to.

Then Spitfire noticed Twilight blushing, and her eyes widened. Oh, she didn’t...

...That did fit with some of the behaviour Dash had mentioned of their newest princess. Only a lifetime of public parades kept Spitfire from closing her eyes in despair. Sweet Celestia, Wonderbolts were normal and well-adjusted in comparison...!

“S and T are easy, though,” Starlight’s voice cut through Spitfire’s despair. “What’s X for?”

“X-Ray humour,” Sonata answered without hesitation. “It’s where you’re laughing on the inside, but nopony on the outside can tell.” Starlight pursed her lips but said nothing. Sonata continued, “That’s what Adagio usually does, when she’s not angry.”

Ok, Starlight was evidently a master of goading Sonata into revealing more details about her sisters, even if Spitfire was pretty sure that time it had been accidental.

“...Z?” Spitfire asked, partly in the hope of getting any further information with Starlight’s method, and also out of perverse curiosity towards a pony who had been giving them strange, confusing but sometimes compelling answers the whole day.

“Meh,” Sonata said, “there were two for S, and zlapstick sounded better than zarcasm, so...”

Before Spitfire had much chance to lament her question not leading to anything useful, Sonata reached up to her mane again and pulled out a handle. Followed by something round and metal attached to it, and only when she was holding it in front of her face did Spitfire realise it was a frying pan. Not a full-size one, maybe only a couple of hoofwidths across, but still. A frying pan. From her mane.

And then, without further ado, Sonata held the frying pan in front of her face and headbutted it for them all to see.

“Zlapstick!” she announced, lowering the pan in her hoof as it still rang with its impact on her skull, and rubbing her forehead with the other.

Nopony watching moved, said anything, or reacted in any way. They just stared. She’d somehow had a frying pan in her mane the entire time. Spitfire remembered considering concealed weapons there, but not frying pans. Or the thought that Sonata would use them on herself.

Spitfire’s head sunk into her hooves, and she groaned aloud. They had been too long stuck in a small room with a crazypony. More than anything, a frying pan reminded her she’d missed lunch.
> a
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back in the observation room. Still hungry. Spitfire leaned against the window, idly watching Sonata sitting alone in the interview room again. Princess Twilight paced up and down in the middle of the limited space, and Starlight had resumed her previous position slumped against the opposite wall.

“We need to know more,” Twilight said to the room as she reached one end of it, turned on her hoof and paced back the way she came. “The only other siren we know of is on the island of Marewo, in the New Hebridles.”

Spitfire winced. She had a fairly clear idea of where the princess would order her to go next, and that was a long flight. At least it was good weather season. Actually, those islands were one of those smug places with great weather all year round.

“The New Hebridles?” Starlight asked, scratching the top of her head with a hoof. “They’re in the South West, aren’t they? Off the coast from Las Pegasus?”

“Yeah, that’s them,” Spitfire confirmed. She’d only been there a couple of times, unwinding on mini-breaks after Wonderbolt tours had ended in Las Pegasus. The South Luna Ocean really was a serene part of the world, ideal for kicking back and forgetting everything for a while. Ten times too far to commute to Wonderbolts HQ from, though. She’d checked.

But she’d never been to that particular island, and there was a reason for that. “I do have a contact on Marewo,” she said, trying to hide her grimace and knowing she should just be thankful to have a lead. Finding Fluttershy was more important than personal discomfort.

“I wouldn’t bother...!” came a sing-song voice from the next room. What the– Spitfire felt like the floor had fallen out from under her as she realised what she was seeing: in the interview room beyond the glass, Sonata was leaning her chair back just as she had hours before, only now she was looking directly at Spitfire, mouth hanging open as she sang out her warning.

Rooted wide-eyed to the spot, Spitfire tried to focus on how it wasn’t nearly as bad as the magic mane thing, but she’d gone through one-too-many Sonata-related shocks that day. That pony was terrifying, plain and simple. As in, she was terrifying, and that was plain and simple. Though the other way worked too.

“...She can hear us?!” Twilight said as she pulled up beside Spitfire, looking at Sonata aghast.

“I’m a siren,” Sonata cackled, “my whole gig revolves around music and pitching. My eyesight is average, but my ears are top notch, thanks.”

She dropped the chair back to all four legs, then stood and pulled herself up onto the table. She lay on her side there with her rear legs stretched out, supporting her head on one forehoof and posing for all she was worth. Spitfire wasn’t quite sure why.

“That does make sense, your highness,” Spitfire grudgingly admitted, putting it together that Sonata couldn’t actually see them, but could pinpoint their position with her ears and look in that direction, the result of which was uncanny.

All three mares in the observation room made a concerted effort to ignore Sonata’s gleeful look at that.

“Anyway,” Sonata said, “I wouldn’t bother asking Lightning; she’s a bitch.”

How did Sonata know Lightning Dust?! It could be a different pony named Lightning, Spitfire supposed, but on the same, barely inhabited island, that seemed the longest of long shots. Also, from Sonata’s description, it certainly sounded like the Lightning Dust that Spitfire remembered.

Sonata finished, “That’s why she and Aria are so good together.”

Oh right. It was going to be one of those days. Where fate would be merciless to her just for its own amusement. The siren anypony had yet to say a kind word about was coupled up with the reckless Wonderbolt Academy expellee who probably bore a grudge against Spitfire. Wasn’t that going to be a fun visit? She found she was clenching her jaw tightly, and made herself stop.

Twilight and Starlight didn’t seem to appreciate the predicament, but then the princess had probably forgotten Lightning, and Starlight never met her. Or maybe they said nothing out of knowing Sonata would overhear. Either way, the silence wasn’t broken until Sonata spoke up again herself.

“So, Fluttershy could do worse, huh?” Sonata waggled her eyebrows at Spitfire suggestively.

A moment’s puzzlement gave way to a blush and a sharp intake of breath. She did say that, didn’t she, before going into the room with Sonata? It felt like weeks ago.

Way ahead of Spitfire in responding, though, Twilight snorted, “Really? This is Fluttershy, she has the nicest mane and tail in Ponyville, or so I’m reliably informed.”

Sonata’s gaze appeared to flick between Spitfire and the princess, but she gave no outward sign that she’d heard what had been said.

“Better not let Rarity hear you say that,” Starlight commented from behind them.

Twilight turned away from the window, saying ruefully, “It was Rarity who brought it to my attention.” Much befitting her title, a smile could be heard in the princess’s voice as she spoke of her friend. “She said it took her half an hour in front of a mirror to look as good as Fluttershy did after rolling straight out of bed.”

As Starlight made no audible response, Spitfire shifted so she faced into the room with her back to the glass, and from there saw Starlight’s raised eyebrows and the disbelieving quirk of her lips.

“It was before your time here,” Twilight said, “but it wasn’t Rarity who had the modelling career out of those two.”

Despite having heard the story a couple of times before, Spitfire had never managed to picture Fluttershy as a model. There was no denying she had the features for it, naturally; but Spitfire had met models, and, as a general rule, detested them. They went to such effort to appear as something, rather than to be something. Especially those who would go through physical training, like weightlifting, to look a certain way, instead of for the increased physical performance. It went against everything she stood for; a pale mockery of athleticism she knew could never compete – aesthetically or literally – with a Wonderbolt.

And thankfully, Fluttershy had none of that pretentiousness about her, or at least hadn’t the few times Spitfire had met her, and had never come across that way in things Dash had said.

“Wow,” Starlight said, nodding in that way that said she still only half believed the princess, before her features shifted into a smirk. “Bet she took that well.”

“She was very happy for her friend, and supportive of her success,” Twilight assured in a strained voice, the tips of her ears becoming red. She cleared her throat before adding, “In her own way.”

The look Starlight sent Spitfire asked if she believed the story for a second, and suggested that if so, she’d be the only one.

“She got very, very jealous,” Spitfire said.

Starlight gasped, both forehooves flying to her mouth, in the most over-the-top display of fake scandal Spitfire had seen since her team reacted the last time Fleetfoot did something nice. Twilight’s surprise was a lot more genuine, if way more understated.

“Sorry,” Spitfire explained, “one of your closest friends is on my squad, and likes the sound of her own voice.” The silent nods of sudden understanding spoke of how Rainbow’s friends knew her character flaws all too well. It seemed strange to smile at that, but there was something touching about their firm commitment to her, however loud she got. “And she’s not nearly as tactful as you, Princess.”

Grudgingly, Twilight nodded. Then, after a moment’s pause and a steadying breath, she was all business again. “I’d like you to fly to Marewo and check out Aria.”

Yep, there it is. Spitfire would need a holiday by the time Fluttershy got back, she was sure of it. As sure as that she wouldn’t be taking it in the New Hebridles.

If they could spare the ponypower, it’d be safer as a tandem flight, since flying over open water had a habit of making pegasi nod off. She needed a fast flier, stationed nearby, and anything that could help her handle Lightning without the excursion descending into hooficuffs. Only one pony fit the bill, though she might later regret not choosing Soarin and his calming influence.

“Rainbow might be the ideal pony to take with me, if Lightning’s there,” she said. Protocol said investigations required a partner, anyway – something about bias and backup, though she’d never really looked into that side of it.

And with luck, as Rainbow and the princess were such good friends, there was even a chance that the departure could be delayed until after food. It would be a crazy trip to make on an empty stomach, and hopefully Rainbow would impress the importance of that on Twilight.

“I really wouldn’t do that...!” Sonata sang out from behind Spitfire, who was not alone in jumping at the input from somepony she’d almost forgotten was still listening. She and Twilight span to face the window again, seeing Sonata on the table as before, but now lying on her front with her chin resting seductively on her forelegs, her back legs and tail stretched out behind her showing off how pleasantly toned they were. She’d even mussed up her mane, and she batted her eyelashes in Spitfire’s direction as she spoke.

“They don’t like blue ponies.” Sonata gave an empty-headed and far-too-innocent shrug, then looked up to one side fondly reminiscing, and smiled, “Can’t think why.” Sonata’s eyes widened as she gave the tiniest shake of her head, looking straight at them with ‘I know, right?’ written plainly across her face. “Like I said, she’s a bitch.”

Silently, the princess turned her head to Spitfire, holding her eyes for a long moment. Their gaze spoke of Twilight weighing the risks of the decision, after which she nodded grimly. Spitfire took it as both a confirmation and a dismissal, and she wordlessly snapped a salute before smartly turning to leave. Whatever Twilight’s usual feelings on salutes, the scenario was too formal to avoid them, and Spitfire noted that the princess didn’t look displeased with the gesture.

“I thought Aria was your friend?” she heard Twilight say, noting the change of tone indicating she was addressing Sonata through the glass.

“She is, she’s my best friend,” came Sonata’s reply, as Spitfire walked towards the interview room door.

Rainbow was in the hospital, they had said. That would be Spitfire’s first destination, then, and as soon as the sedatives had worn off enough for Rainbow to fly, they’d be on their way.

“You just called your best friend a bitch?” she overheard Starlight say.

Spitfire’s stomach rumbled, but thankfully she was too far away from the others by that point for them to hear. She couldn’t waste any time in getting to Rainbow, but maybe the window of her recovering from the tranquilisers would be long enough for Spitfire to eat something. A meal small enough to fly on, but large enough to make up for those she’d missed that day.

“She is,” Sonata stated. “I mean, I know that more than anyone, I’m her friend!”

In fairness to Sonata, Spitfire might have said just the same about Fleetfoot, and loved her for it. Fleet probably would’ve taken it as a compliment, too.

Hoof on the door handle, Spitfire cast a glance over her shoulder, taking in the room for a final time, where Twilight and Starlight were sharing a look but saying nothing.

“...What?” Sonata asked as Spitfire turned away again. Hoping the noise wasn’t loud enough to distract Sonata, Spitfire pushed down the handle and pulled the door towards her. She squinted at the brightness as her eyes adjusted to everything that wasn’t the darkened sweatbox where she’d spent far too long that day.

“Nothing,” the princess said behind her, “I’m just coming to appreciate that if you’re that callous towards your closest friends, it’s no wonder you didn’t help us at all.”

Fresh, pleasantly fragrant air welcomed Spitfire as she trotted through the doorway, and a ruffle travelled through her feathers unprompted. Right then, time to find somepony to ask for directions to Ponyville General. She pulled the door shut behind her, with the last thing she heard being, “Ooh, looks like you’ve learned something today. ‘Dear Princess Celestia...’ ”
> -
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This is a strange situation we find ourselves in, Rainbow Dash.”

Taking a calming breath – filling her lungs even more than the standard cruise flight breathing pattern she was already running on – Spitfire tried to laugh at herself and her situation. Five hours over open waters, three since the sun came up and infused the ocean and the distant islands of the archipelago with azure radiance, and she’d only just worked up the nerve to broach the topic she’d been dwelling on in her head. She could tell herself she’d just been taking her time working out how to phrase it, but that wasn’t the full extent of her hesitation. Or the reason her pulse seemed even more prominent at that moment than usual during endurance flying.

“Ma’am?” Rainbow asked from beside her, and it was a testament to how still the weather was that neither of them needed to raise their voices to be heard, despite being over a full wingspan apart.

“Exactly my point.” The warmth coming off the water permeated through her wings, going a little way towards easing the tension of using them for so long. In that climate, she was glad they’d chosen to leave their flight suits behind, so she stayed cool as the air rushed over her fur. “Ordinarily you’re ‘Dash’ or ‘Crash’ and I’m ‘ma’am.’ ” And that did it; it was too late to turn back the conversation, with no choice but to air aloud that which they’d never discussed before. “That’s who we are in the Wonderbolts, and we turn a blind eye to how you’re one of six ponies who’ve saved Equestria repeatedly, including myself on a few occasions.” She made a firm point to keep her voice just as loud for that last admission; credit to Rainbow where due shouldn’t be lessened just because of Spitfire’s pride.

Surprise had shifted to fear on Rainbow’s face, which in turn mellowed to uncertainty. “I thought that was how you wanted it;” Rainbow’s eyes kept flicking over to Spitfire, probably trying to judge her reaction, “there’s never been a doubt you’re in charge.”

“Hey, in the ‘Bolts, you’d better believe it,” Spitfire said, trying to give what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and that it showed through despite her own discomfort with the subject. “But, while I’m here because of written orders from a princess, and a rescue mission is definitely a military thing and therefore my area, there’s no denying that this is Element business.” And then she was falling, metaphorically. The hard part was done, she couldn’t go back, and all that remained to be seen was how far she’d fall. Clarifying it wasn’t nearly as difficult, “Where you’re the expert, and I certainly don’t outrank you.”

Rainbow’s brow furrowed, and her gaze wandered over the waters below, doubtless while she got her head around the idea. “I see what you mean, ma’a... Spitfire,” she corrected herself.

“Right,” Spitfire agreed, letting a fraction of a grimace show for a second. The sting of being addressed by name by somepony who’d always ranked beneath her was only a tiny thing, but the worry of the trend it might set loomed far larger. It was done, though, so with it out of the way, she could throw herself into business. “So tell me: In your non-Wonderbolt capacity, what do you know about these sirens? Because the princess’ letter was the first I’d heard of them, and I didn’t get much chance for background reading.”

She could have read up the night before while waiting for Rainbow to be flight-ready, but food and sleep before the long trip had been more important, and thankfully she’d at least had enough time for those. And, even if she’d decided otherwise, the only pony to know where such background reading material might be found had been busy dealing with the tail end of the Sonata interview.

So there she was, flying blind towards a confrontation with a sort-of enemy who she hadn’t previously even known existed, for the second day in a row. Relying on one of her squad to brief her was embarrassing, but probably better than no briefing at all.

“Ok,” Rainbow said, scratching her head as she flew, “from what I remember, they were a big deal sometime not long before Nightmare Moon, when they tried to take over Equestria. They were banished to a world without magic, where they’d be powerless.” Just as when Sonata had discussed it, Spitfire couldn’t help flinching at the comparison to being stuck in a world where she couldn’t fly.

Rainbow continued, “A few years ago, Twilight visited that world and made some friends there, not knowing about the sirens, who I guess must be immortal.”

“And the world went from having no magic to containing the Element herself,” Spitfire said. She knew about the mirror, of course, as a high-value asset somepony of her rank might be in charge of safeguarding in a crisis, but she hadn’t quite realised travel between worlds had become such a casual thing.

“Yeah. There was a big battle, and in the end the sirens fled. But they knew that if Twilight had gone there from Equestria–”

“–Then there must have been a way for them to get back.”

“Right.” Displeasure crept into Rainbow’s tone as the tale shifted further from myth to personal experience. “So a few months ago, Twilight got some messages from her friends in the other world. The sirens wanted to come back.” Rainbow simply shook her head. “And Twilight let them.”

Spitfire frowned. “Why would– ah, they’d done their time? The maximum banishment sentence is a thousand years, if I remember rightly.” Silly the things a young cadet looks up when she learns she’ll be interacting with Princess Celestia for the first time.

“Exactly. ‘After a thousand years, anypony banished has to be given another chance,’ ” Rainbow recited.“I told her it was a stupid idea at the time–” Rainbow turned her hooves up helplessly, which must have taken quite a bit of effort with muscles aching from the overnight flight “–but Twilight said it’s tied up with the Elements and stuff.”

So power of the Elements of Harmony came with a built-in requirement to forgive? Or at least reassess that those punished with it were still a threat? Complete with a fixed time limit, even. How very Equestrian!

Once she’d considered the idea, she found it hard to believe that magic based on friendship wouldn’t have something like that. Meaning it couldn’t be used as a permanent solution, just a tool for part of a larger process. Reformation rather than retribution.

“Worked for Princess Luna,” she pointed out.

In fact, that would neatly explain how somepony had been able to make that prophecy that Nightmare Moon would return a thousand years after being banished.

“Not without a tail kicking first,” Rainbow shot back.

And that prophecy hadn’t exactly helped, since nopony had remembered it at the time, and only knew it now from how word of Twilight Sparkle saving their hides had spread.

Rainbow added, “And not at all for Tirek. I’m thinking the sirens aren’t exactly redeemed, either.”

Suddenly, focusing on Sonata and the miserable day Spitfire had had to spend with her didn’t seem so bad, not when compared to memories of Tirek and the one time she really hadn’t been able to fly.

“I was in the room with one, though,” Spitfire said, “and there was no sign of dark magic.”

“Nah, they can’t do that anymore. The battle with Twilight in the other world wrecked their magic gems, and Twilight sorted them out with a shape-changing spell, so they’re earth ponies now.”

Earth ponies, all three of them? So how did Adagio manage a teleport...? Fluttershy could have been misled, or even lying, but nopony saw her leave. Adagio could have found some magical artefact, or a way to access powers she once had as a siren, possibly. The most likely solution, though, was that she had an accomplice. But what magic user that powerful would willingly carry out an abduction for an earth pony? What kind of hold could Adagio have over them?

Sonata had been intolerable to spend a day with, but as far as individuals who tried to take over Equestria went, she hadn’t been that bad. Could the other two be so much worse?

“But they’ve behaved themselves until now?”

Rainbow nodded but also turned her lower lip out, the two contradicting each other into something of an unimpressed partial agreement.

“Sort of. Two of them disappeared the night they arrived. Twilight was able to trace one – who we’re going to see now – but lost track of the other.”

No lead on the desert castle, then. Tracking things under cover of darkness was tricky, but not impossible. Had Rainbow been the pony doing the tracking, for at least one siren? Probably not; she was Wonderbolt trained, but she was hardly the best-suited for covert surveillance. If the ‘Bolts had been brought in from the beginning, perhaps this whole mess could have been avoided.

“So that just left Sonata,” Rainbow carried on, “and she was, meh, no worse than Discord really. She caused some controversy around Ponyville, but nothing illegal until this stuff with Fluttershy.”

Spitfire could well imagine Sonata’s antics with a married stallion raising a few eyebrows in the sleepy town. But she also had a feeling that the inhabitants of Ponyville, of all places, would be most likely to recognise happiness where they saw it, and the casual answers she’d received from staff in the hospital while getting food had seemed to confirm that. Sonata was something of a pariah, but the ponies Spitfire asked had admitted through their frowns that the couple did appear very happy together, in an unconventional way.

“Speaking of Discord, where is he?” Spitfire said. “You mentioned a while ago that he and Fluttershy are friends, of sorts.”

And if the sirens weren’t put off kidnapping somepony who had Discord for a friend, they might be very dangerous indeed.

Or all as dim as Sonata. That was an option too.

Rainbow said, “He and Trixie are off doing some wandering roadshow at the moment, half the time performing magic in different cities, and the rest shaking gourds around a campfire or something.”

No way to get a message to him, then, if nopony knew for sure where he was. Mixed feelings there. Discord would be a powerful ally of course, but Spitfire’s overwhelming memory of him, however many galas she’d seen him at since, was of him dressed as a waiter, feeding her flight magic to Tirek. A powerful ally, but never one she’d trust.

“I wonder if the sirens’ stunt with Fluttershy was timed with that in mind,” she frowned, considering the planning and inside knowledge it would have taken to coordinate with when Discord would be out of the way.

‘Could be,’ said Rainbow’s raised eyebrows and pursed lips. But then she looked ahead of her, craning her neck towards something in the distance and narrowing her eyes.

Directing her own gaze the same way, Spitfire saw a light smudge on the horizon straight ahead of them. Absently identifying and keeping track of the small but lush islands they’d passed over on their flight had left little doubt they’d been heading in exactly the right direction, and recognising the final island they’d overflown twenty minutes before had confirmed it, but all the same, it was reassuring to see their destination in sight at last.

“Ok, listen up,” Spitfire said, unthinkingly slipping back into squad leader mentality, but deciding to stick with it after realising. “Hopefully this is completely unnecessary, and everything’s fine with Fluttershy, and she’ll be home of her own accord soon enough.”

Glancing across, she saw Rainbow’s muscles tightening, in spite of the Wonderbolt training to keep them relaxed when cruising. Rainbow turned her head and locked eyes with Spitfire, offering a curt nod.

“But,” Spitfire held Rainbow’s gaze, “in case she isn’t, then this may be our only chance.” Tension appeared around Rainbow’s eyes, but otherwise she kept up her determined front. Which is the best to be hoped for, really. Treating it seriously but not letting it get to her. “So if you see an opportunity, take it. And more than anything, hold on to your temper, ok?”

There weren’t many phrases more aggravating than that, Spitfire knew, but if she didn’t say anything and Rainbow then lost it, there’d be no way back.

“Yes, Spitfire,” came the reply through a jaw more set than before, said in a way that very slightly accented her own name. Nothing belligerent, just enough to point out that Rainbow wasn’t the only one known to snap when provoked. And if Rainbow kept up that level of careful control – and I can too – they ought to be ok.

“Touché,” she muttered. The island of Marewo grew rapidly nearer.
> A
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sand enveloped Spitfire’s hooves as she touched down, pleasantly warm in the morning sun. Waves softly lapped the shore behind her, the beach curving away on either side so she and Rainbow stood surrounded by pristine waters on three sides. Iconic palm trees dotted the beach here and there, which stretched back to lush green tropical forest inland, gently stirring in the breeze. Ahead of the treeline stood a house: a large, low building with a sloping roof of logs halved lengthways. More logs made up the steps from the sand to its porch, and despite the wide panes of glass set in the walls, the house was one with its surroundings.

Even having just experienced first-hoof the toil of the long flight to get there, Spitfire did fleetingly reconsider just how impossible it might not be to commute to the Academy from such a place. A pony could dream, right? She stared ahead of her at nothing while taking in one last breath of salty air – and even that tasted exotic rather than cloying – before exhaling it all away. Yet another fantasy lost to the miserable laws of physics.

“Girls,” called one of the two mares sunbathing up the beach ahead of them, accompanying it with an unconcerned momentary raising of her chin in an inverse nod. That could only be Aria, as Lightning Dust lounged beside her saying nothing and looking unimpressed. “Official business, I assume? Pour yourselves a drink and sit down.”

And sure enough, each mare had a cocktail glass or two beneath a sunshade on a low table beside her, filled with clear or vibrant liquids and in some cases piled high with ice. Aria rolled her head to point off to one side, almost identically to how Starlight had in the observation room the day before, and Spitfire was struck by the visual similarity between the two. Starlight had a horn, and her mane was wavy where Aria’s hung in delicate braids, but the resemblance was uncanny, and the mirrored head movement made it spookily so.

“Thank you,” Spitfire replied, starting to trudge up the beach towards them. A glance suggested the offer looked genuine, too: two sun loungers lay beside the two already occupied, the sand showing the tracks of their recent relocation. So they knew we were coming. And in the direction Aria had indicated there was a bigger version of the shaded tables, this one sporting several dozen glass bottles arranged in rows, a cluster of limes and other fruit, and buckets and buckets of ice beneath it. “That’s a lot more cordial than I was expecting.”

All those limes, after the exhausting flight and exasperating time with Sonata the day before – a mojito had never been more tempting.

“You’re here because of my sister, I’m guessing,” Aria said, “and we don’t do those discussions sober.”

Spitfire made sure not to let her shadow fall across either pony as she and Rainbow drew up in front of them; no sense in blocking their sun and getting off on any more of a wrong hoof than necessary.

Up close, Aria looked rougher around the edges than Starlight. Her body was mottled in a few places with bruises in various states of healing, including swelling around her neck and a particularly large purple blotch on her stomach. She acted as if they weren’t there, lying on her back with her ankles crossed and her forehooves behind her head.

“Of course,” Lightning added, breaking her silence, “how not-sober you need to be depends on which sister it was.” Spitfire had forgotten how feminine Lightning’s voice was, the mental association with Rainbow making it more coltish in her memories.

“Uh, kind of both?” Rainbow offered. Lightning’s eyebrow rose, reminding Spitfire in that moment of Fleetfoot.

“Wow,” Aria said, “we’d better get you plastered then.”

Several overtones came through in that reply, each bringing a different facet to first impressions of Aria. There was a disparaging lack of regard for those she called her sisters, of course, but given that one of them had told vacuous stories for hours on end purely in a bid to be irritating, Spitfire could completely relate.

But there was also a rebellious desire to challenge and subvert authority, and a similar disdain for it. It wasn’t just a question from Aria, it was a test as well.

“Let’s start with just the one, we need to fly home again,” Spitfire said. One was ok. To refuse entirely would have been rude. They were on somepony else’s cloud, and if that was how business was done on said cloud, then she’d at least make accomodations in that direction.

Lightning sneered. “The legendary rock and roll attitude of the Wonderbolts, right there…”

Oh, like you’d know, you little– No, Spitfire wouldn’t let it show. No indicator would appear on her face to even acknowledge Lightning’s comment. The stakes were too high, and even if they weren’t, she was better than that.

“Oh, you guys are Wonderbolts?” Aria asked, probably not with the intention to spare Spitfire having to make a response, though she was grateful for it all the same. “That explains the delicious tension in the air.”

Lightning, meanwhile reached for her drink and took a sizeable gulp. Well, a big sip, but given that the clear liquid in the Y-shaped glass with a twist of lemon on the side was very likely a dry martini, it was a sizeable gulp.

“This is Rainbow Dash,” Lightning said, turning to Aria and waving her drink in Rainbow’s direction, and then, with a shudder Spitfire hoped was from too much vermouth, added, “and that’s Spitfire.”

Captain Spitfire, to you, but never mind. If Aria’s eyes narrowed with intrigue at the mention of Rainbow’s name, they positively lit up at Spitfire’s. While she could hardly remember a time when she hadn’t been talked about – and Lightning saying whatever she liked about anypony was certainly her right when in her own home – it wasn’t exactly a good sign that she still appeared to hold such a grudge.

Huh. I honestly figured she’d hate Dash more. Betrayal of a friend, and all.

Aria’s eyes flicked between the three of them, visibly calculating the feelings on display, most likely weighing up who was likely to dive at who first. “It’s strange,” she mused happily, “being the only one not involved in your awkward family reunion.”

Spitfire let her eyebrow arch of its own accord. “How does it look from the outside?” If her bridges were burned with Lightning, she had to try all the harder to build them with Aria.

“Delightfully uncomfortable,” Aria said. Spitfire didn’t know if the sirens in their native forms had been carnivores – although it was likely, given the general predatory vibe they gave off – but if they were, then Aria’s teeth would have been on full display at that moment.“You’re definitely going to need that drink.”

One pony there hated her, the other was amused by the prospect of her failing. Spitfire nodded grimly. “Good call. Rainbow?”

Before Spitfire had even finished speaking, Rainbow was moving towards the bar. “Alright, it’s margarita time!” So much for her unswerving concern for Fluttershy.

But it quickly proved to be simply Dash getting excited – though she was first to arrive face to face with the miniature forest of bottles, her enthusiasm had turned to sheepishness by the time she actually stood there.

Rainbow scratched the back of her head with a wing in response to Spitfire’s questioning look. “It kinda feels like you’re still my boss here, Captain, so I’m not sure I should be doing this in front of you while sort of on-duty.”

I’m not sure either. About any of this. All they really had was trial and error, and their current approach showed no signs of success.

“Do they seem at all ruffled to you?” Spitfire asked. She kept her voice low enough that Aria and Lightning wouldn’t hear, but not so low that was obvious as her intention. “We’re in their territory here, Rainbow. They’re in control, and they’re not just going to give up their secrets because we asked nicely.” She picked up a clean highball glass from the bartop and set it in front of her, casting an eye over the table to make sure mint leaves and sugar were present. “Not sober, anyway.” She gave Dash a meaningful look.

“Yes ma’am,” Rainbow said after half a second of uneasily glancing around with her eyebrows pressed together, in a tone usually reserved for the phrase ‘it’s your funeral.’ The talk on the flight over about them being equals for the mission had been sincere, but life was definitely easier when ponies just did as Spitfire said. Especially when she’d likely be the one Princess Twilight held accountable either way.

“Who’d have thought that all those aftershow parties were actually training sessions?” Spitfire chuckled as she sliced a lime in two and squeezed each half above her glass. She was all for professionalism, and obviously never would have dreamed of it had they not been invited to – indeed, expected to – but there was only so long she could stand on a desert island within sight of a cocktail bar and remain empty-hoofed. As an odd but lovely mare on a train had once said, she was just a pony. The sugar and mint leaves followed the lime juice into the glass, after which she found the muddler and ground them all up.

Reaching for the lime vodka, she continued, “And now comes the big match: holding it better than they do, and getting what we need to know out of them.” In went the vodka, and the club soda on top of it, complete with a mint leaf as garnish – because it felt rude not to in such a picturesque setting. She picked up her glass, though reception of the finished product was marred with a grimace as she added, “And possibly not mentioning how stuck we are without it.”

Rainbow shared the uncomfortable expression, setting a wedge of lime on the rim of her ice-heaped margarita glass but frowning down at it as she did so.

Glasses in hoof, the two of them made their way back to the seats, hardly eager about the prospect but not moving slowly enough for their reluctance to be obvious.

Like the others didn’t know anyway, with how Aria was practically hanging on her seat watching with glee! The kind of seat edge hanging that involved lying languidly just as she started out, true; but the excitement was still easy to pick up in her expression, and how her eyes tracked Spitfire and Rainbow as they sat down on the adjacent pair of sun loungers.

It was just the right spot, though: the perfect distance from the sea for the cool breeze rolling off the waves to not quite balance the sun, leaving the difference to be covered by the iced drinks kept fresh on the low shaded side tables each lounger stood next to.

Nopony had said anything yet, and Aria was still watching them like a foal waiting for fireworks to start, while Lightning stared out to sea and seemed to be pretending they weren’t there.

Partly to buy herself time to think of some way to start the conversation that wouldn’t give Aria exactly what she was looking for, and partly to savour it for a moment before the atmosphere turned it sour, Spitfire reached for her drink and took a sip. She closed her eyes without even meaning to, and for a moment she was only sun, sea, sand and the taste of being allowed to unwind.

“Small talk’s not going to work, is it?” she asked, loud enough to be heard by everypony without opening her eyes or looking around. Sometimes the best answer to a problem was that there was no answer; if conversation couldn’t come naturally or comfortably, she might get further by not even trying that route.

Then she did look over at the others, gauging the reception. Aria wore a pout so deliberate it looked like she’d copied it from Sonata. And while disappointing her was perhaps unwise when their success essentially hinged on her goodwill, it might be worth it to show that Spitfire wouldn’t play Aria’s games. Not unless there was something to be gained.

“Ok,” she said, as plainly as she could. Aria had called the other sirens her sisters, hadn’t she? Good, that would do then. “Your sister, Adagio, is allegedly responsible for the disappearance of a pony named Fluttershy, under circumstances best called ‘mysterious.’ ”

To which Aria unhelpfully said nothing, but she did at least appear thoughtful.

Much to Spitfire’s surprise, it was Lightning who broke the stalemate, though only to ask Rainbow, “How does the other sister fit in?”

Badly. But at least Rainbow hadn’t been there for the endless hours of storytime with Sonata, so she might be able to answer in a slightly more positive way.

“Uh, she’s the one who made the allegation, after she was seen nearby,” Rainbow said.

“Of course she did…” Lightning shook her head to herself, eyes closed, before reaching for her drink again.

Had she had the forethought to have Rainbow lead the way back from the bar, Spitfire could have taken the far seat so Rainbow could push conversation with Lightning. Instead, with Spitfire and Aria sitting between them, that wasn’t really happening.

“And, naturally,” Aria said, so companionably Spitfire could smell the trap coming, “the famed Equestrian legal principle of familial guilt brought you here.”

“I really hope that’s not a real thing,” Rainbow said. Her shell-shocked tone was no quieter than normal, though it sounded like she were talking to herself, and a glance in her direction showed her looking straight ahead out to sea with wide eyes. “Especially if it still counts for sort-of families, or I am in so much trouble thanks to Scoot.”

“Absolutely,” Aria assured Rainbow, “that’s why Celestia famously had to banish herself to the moon, too.”

Lightning snickered to herself, but a small sign of progress was that she did so behind a hoof. Rainbow gave a flat look, but the one she got back from Aria carried more weight.

“So why are you here?” Aria asked, all traces of levity gone.

“Preliminary investigations involve checking known associates,” Spitfire answered, sticking to the facts and trying to present them as reasonable. Hopefully it was the sunshine, rather than the situation, which was making her sweat, and she reached for her drink as she finished. “That means you.”

“Uh huh.” Aria didn’t miss a beat. “D’you drag Filthy Rich in for questioning too?”

Mid-sip of her mojito, Spitfire froze, and only realised too late how she’d given herself away. Before she could wreck things even further, she stopped herself from glancing at Dash.

But she had absolutely no idea what to say!

Pushing on, Aria said, “Because that might’ve caused a bit of a stir…”

Spitfire countered, fixing Aria with a glare.

“But we,” Lightning took up, “alone out here, with no prying eyes on you…?”

The insinuation of unfair persecution was groundless – for all Spitfire wanted to believe Fluttershy’s note, many others would have pointed out how easily it could be forged, which would justify interrogating Aria with a lot more hostility. Spitfire widened her glare to include Lightning, dialing up how piercing it was to a level that would hold a newbie to the spot.

Finishing the thought, Aria said, “...They might never find your bodies.”

The set of Spitfire’s jaw only hardened, but it was clearly Aria trying to get under their skin rather than a sincere threat, and even if it had been; she figured they were in with a fighting chance. Especially if the bruises she could see through Aria’s coat were anything to go by.

“That wasn’t what I…” Lightning began, brows drawn down, before closing her eyes and shaking her head to herself. “Never mind.”

If Aria noticed Lightning’s response, she gave no sign. And if their joint goading had run its course, it was time for Spitfire to jump in again.

“Rich may be an associate of Sonata,” she stated, letting some of the firmness from her gaze carry into her voice, “but he isn’t of Adagio, as far as I know. You are. You’re relevant where he isn’t.”

“Ooh,” Aria turned coy, eyes lighting up, craning her head towards Lightning but frequently looking back over her shoulder at Spitfire as she spoke, “she called me relevant.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think she’s flirting with me.” Then she rolled onto her side facing Spitfire, relaxing into a pose best described as ‘come to bed.’

Behind Aria’s back, Lightning muttered something Spitfire couldn’t quite catch, but from what she could piece together it sounded like ‘that’s better than she ever called me.’

Quite a few complimentary things Spitfire knew she’d said to Lightning came to mind, but she was hardly surprised they’d been forgotten if Lightning still held so much anger about it, even four years on.

And she looked murderous; eyes fixed somewhere straight ahead of her, perhaps not even seeing the sea despite it stretching as far as the eye could see. It was anypony’s guess as to whether the answer they were after would come from Lightning or from Aria, and letting the latter drive a wedge further between them and the former really wasn’t going to help their position.

“Keep dreaming,” she told Aria, who she figured would have been unlikely to reveal anything she didn’t want to in such a staged fashion anyway.

“I will,” she murmured contentedly, her eyes half-lidded and not leaving Spitfire’s. “And what is it you look for in someone relevant?” She brought a hoof to her chest, as if her heart were on offer.

Was it Spitfire’s imagination, or could she hear Lightning’s teeth grinding from two chairs away, over the sound of the lapping waves?

“Information.”

“Well then,” Aria spread her front hooves invitingly, then trailed the foreleg not trapped beneath her down her side, so casually it was almost believable as a gesture not deliberately designed to draw the eye. She rolled even further onto her left side towards Spitfire, bringing her right knee up a way to reach over the left and touch the fabric of the chair, her rump on full display, and the trailing foreleg stopping when resting on her waist with the hoof dangling carelessly in front of her. “What would you like to know about me?” Her eyes and teeth flashed in her most wicked smile yet.

Before Spitfire could answer, a thump came from behind Aria, where Lightning slammed her now-empty martini glass down onto her side table and practically launched herself to her feet.

“Would you like to go for a fly, Rainbow?” Her face was a flat mask over fury. “Via the kitchen, perhaps. I could use something stronger.” She glanced at Rainbow briefly, but mostly kept her eyes on Spitfire, including a few glowers in Aria’s direction too.

“Uh, s-sure,” Rainbow answered, quickly setting down her own drink and getting to her hooves. “Thanks.” Rainbow trotted over to Lightning, sharing a concerned look with Spitfire as their eyes met on the way.

In theory, Lightning led Rainbow off towards the house, but in practice it was more like the other way around, with Rainbow waiting ahead of Lightning expectantly, and Lightning shooting more dark looks at Spitfire while stalking off.

Flying again after the long trek to get there wouldn’t be fun for Rainbow, even compared to the time she’d made it from Canterlot to the Crystal Mountains and back and then flown in the show, but the bigger concern was her sharing whatever Lightning raided the kitchen for and it kicking in mid-flight. Lightning Dust was not worth ploughing into the ocean and drowning for. But maybe Fluttershy was, in Rainbow’s eyes?

Don’t be an idiot, Crash. Come back in one piece.
> r
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So,” Lightning announced, breaking the calm silence they’d been cruising in heading away from the island, “having had several years to think about it, to grow, to appreciate other perspectives and so on, and see more of how the Wonderbolts work from the inside…”

Internally, Rainbow rolled her eyes. She could tell where this was going. But, since she needed Lightning’s help, on the outside she didn’t make a sign. At least she’d managed to get Lightning flying before she’d had a chance to drink much in the kitchen.

Lightning finished, just as expected, “D’you still think I shouldn’t have been made lead pony?”

And, just like before, you’re making my job more difficult. Thanks, Lightning.

“You went right to it, huh?” She tried not to sound annoyed, but it probably came through that she wasn’t too happy about it.

“It was just gonna be subtext the whole time,” Lightning shrugged and made a face, “might as well get it out of the way.”

The water sparkled as it rushed underneath them, and Rainbow’s wings ached after the overnight flight she’d landed from less than an hour before. But at least the weather was good, and the sea so calm that she and Lightning soared less than a wingspan above it, so she could cruise using ground effect with minimal effort.

“I dunno,” she grumbled, “it might have been nice to have a few minutes of pleasant catching up before we got into a fight.”

“So that’s a yes, then?”

And Lightning kept pushing. And would continue to do so until answered, Rainbow knew, so there was no way around it. Perhaps she could refuse to answer, but that would annoy Lightning, as well as making her answer kind of obvious. Or she could give the answer, and that might be even worse.

She could lie, too – that was an option. But could she actually do that well enough to be believable? Lightning might want to hear it, but surely she’d also question whether it was likely to be true?

She hadn’t saved Equestria a bunch of times by tricking ponies, though, lying to get what she wanted. She’d done it with friendship, and that meant doing it honestly. And if she could reconnect with Lightning through an honest heart-to-heart talk, she might be able to get the information she needed by encouraging Lightning to do the right thing.

A long pause stretched while she ran through everything again to be doubly sure before answering.

“Yeah.” Her heart was pounding away in her chest as she said the first, most important word, and she tried not to let that get to her as she carried on, explaining as much as she could before Lightning could get angry about it. “I get why Spitfire did it, I really do.” Oops, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned her, looking at how Lightning behaved towards her earlier.

But it was probably ok when doing so supported Lightning’s side, maybe? “And she was right,” Rainbow kept going; “Wonderbolts are meant to push themselves.” We might’ve disagreed about the direction, but yeah. There was never a ‘fast enough,’ it had to be ‘as fast as you possibly can, and then faster.’ “And you can’t really teach that to anypony, so you can’t take someone who’s more responsible and then train them into that, you have to start with somepony who pushes and hope that you can teach them to do it safely.”

She made sure she looked Lightning right in the eye for the next sentence, because if she was going to win her over with honesty, then the compliments had to be seen to be just as true as the criticisms. “You were the kind of pony the Academy are right to look for.” And even with everything she knew, admitting that still gave her a tiny sting.

“But?” Lightning wasn’t showing much reaction, probably not until Rainbow had finished her point.

Muscles tightened in her legs for a moment as she pressed her lips together before speaking, getting herself ready. No good way to say it, just get it over with. “But I think the rest of us would have been safer if you hadn’t been flying lead.”

“The rest of you?” Lightning snorted, turning away and covering her mouth with a hoof. When she looked ahead again, she was sneering. “The Wonderbolts are only after the best. You can’t slow down the fastest so the rest can keep up. A Wonderbolt is meant to be the best.”

“Actually they aren’t.” It felt kind of like talking to herself from a few years before, how she’d been back when she first met Lightning. She hadn’t realised how much she’d changed since then. And it really made it obvious how much Lightning hadn’t. “Wonderbolts, the whole lot of them, are the best. Anypony can fly fast, or slalom through an obstacle course; the thing that sets the Wonderbolts apart is how well they fly together as a unit.”

“But you only make the team if you’re the best to begin with.” Lightning was frowning and looking at her like she was stupid, which wasn’t helping.

Rainbow ran a hoof through her mane a few times as she flew, trying to ignore the hair starting to rise on the back of her neck. Lightning didn’t get it, but that wasn’t her fault, she just hadn’t seen the same things Rainbow had.

“Yeah, but… I’m the fastest Wonderbolt.” That had been kind of a shock at first, but it was true. “I literally am: I’m the fastest Wonderbolt the team’s had in years.” ‘You’re the most talented flier we’ve ever had,’ Soarin said, with his big green eyes. Maybe ‘most talented ever’ was going a bit far, but from him she wasn’t going to argue. “And that, uh, doesn’t actually bring as much pride as you might expect. I don’t really think about it much.”

Lightning’s eyebrows went up so high it was like they were trying to take flight all on their own. Did I really used to boast so much that it’s that much of a surprise?!

The whole reason she thought the honest talk might work with Lightning was that the two of them were quite similar, so she might be able to get through to Lightning where somepony like Twilight might not. That meant she had to get Lightning to believe her, so she kept explaining. “Spitfire’s the most manoeuvrable, Soarin has the longest endurance, Misty Fly remembers the moves better than anyone and Fleetfoot’s just a terrible pony.” The chilli in the massage oil had been the worst. “I’m the fastest there, and also one of the lowest on the pecking order. It doesn’t count for as much as you might expect.”

She lowered her head, but made sure she didn’t shake it, as that would look like she was accusing Lightning. And she was, but she didn’t really want to make a big deal of it. Lightning already knew what she’d done; this was more about the reasons behind it. “You put everypony in danger for something not that important.”

“But Wonderbolts are meant to push themselves, you said,” Lightning said hurriedly, jerkily pointing at Rainbow with a hoof which wasn’t yet shaking with anger, but was well on its way to being, “and that’s what the Academy is there to encourage.”

Yeah, but there was a ‘but’ after that when I said it, wasn’t there?

But then Lightning took a moment to cool off, and Rainbow found herself holding her breath at the hope of a more mature answer.

“Look,” Lightning said, “anytime you push the limits, there are going to be casualties.” She ran a hoof over her face, but she had a kind of strength in her voice like she wasn’t just arguing. “Being a daredevil isn’t safe, and can’t be made safe, so somepony is going to get hurt sooner or later. That’s inevitable.”

It sounded horrible, like something ponies should be throwing their hooves up about, but Rainbow had a feeling Spitfire would agree with Lightning on that one. There was probably a drawer of logbooks somewhere in the Academy of records going back the whole time it had been open, and looking through them would show that Lightning was right, and serious accidents did happen from time to time. How often did pegasi die during training? Suddenly Spitfire’s line about an Academy tryout once flying so hard their wings fell off didn’t seem as funny.

Although Lightning was flying with her forelegs stretched out it front of her, Rainbow thought she spotted her shoulders slump as she carried on, “Somepony was always going to get hurt at the Academy, but they keep it open anyway, so I figured everypony had accepted the risks.” She gave a sad smile. Rainbow had no doubts left about her taking it seriously. “I’m just sorry it had to be your friends who were hit. And maybe if it hadn’t been, you’d have been on my side.”

It would always have been somepony’s friends; would it really have been that different if Rainbow hadn’t known them? Maybe she wouldn’t have been as upset, or angry. Worried, sure, but worked up enough to march straight to Spitfire’s office? And then resign?!

“In a way,” she said, “I wish I could have been.” She felt a tightness at the back of her throat, but she tried to chuckle at herself through it. “I fly round Equestria solving friendship problems, but we were only friends for about a week, and look how that ended.”

“It must be said, it’s hardly Element of Loyalty stuff,” Lightning playfully criticised, “going behind the back of your lead pony and friend to complain about her to the pony in charge.”

“It’s not, is it?” Rainbow scratched the back of her neck, wincing as she grinned at Lightning. “But then it was loyal to the rest of the ponies there, and to my friends who came to visit. Although –” she laughed awkwardly and felt blood rushing to her cheeks “– after stepping onto the runway without looking on my first day on the squad, I did start to realise how dangerous it was for my friends to be flying where we were on training exercises.” She shook her head, eyes widening as she really thought about it. “I have no idea why the Academy isn’t in restricted airspace.” Yet another thing she’d have to ask Spitfire.

Lightning looked just as confused, rubbing her chin. “...I guess they never thought anypony would be stupid enough to try flying there?”

This is probably the closest we’re ever gonna come to laughing about this together, isn’t it? “Could be,” she shrugged. And if they were seeing it from the same side like that, then there was another bit to mention, too. “And that also kind of hammered home that Wonderbolts have to be tough, because it’s a dangerous job, and it’s very demanding on your body. So I once thought” – in the months following the all the trouble with Lightning – “that if the Academy is for encouraging pushing yourself then cadets need to be monitored more closely.”

But then she’d actually joined the squad, and begun to understand the proper reasons for the Academy rookie programme, and her plans of how she might change it if she someday became captain pretty much fell apart. “But they also need to toughen up, which means not holding their hooves.”

“Maybe there’s a middle ground,” Lightning said after thinking for a second. Then her nostrils flared. “Maybe if Spitfire had supervised us personally, instead of hiding in her office reading letters from her adoring fans.”

Yeah, that wasn’t fair, or true. Rainbow had seen the stupid amount of paperwork Spitfire sometimes had to deal with, and the way it would mount up on top of all the other stuff she had to do every day until something like trials week came along and gave her a chance to catch up. It wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t going anywhere either.

Figuring it was best to just ignore the insults at the best captain the ‘Bolts had had in a century, she kept talking as if she hadn’t heard Lightning. “And, also…” She made a face. It was difficult for her to say, and she felt a lump in her throat. “...They need to mess up. They need to learn what happens when they push themselves too far, so they don’t do anything stupid when they’re on the squad and put the rest of the team at risk.”

“I don’t recall that doing me any favours.”

I knew you were going to say that! And when I was trying to be serious and admit something embarrassing, as well.

“You didn’t see it as doing anything wrong,” she said, trying not to snap, “so you were hardly gonna learn from it. Hopefully most others would.”

Lightning looked at her for a moment, eyes going from side to side like she was trying to wriggle her way out of it. “I might’ve learned to get better at controlling tornadoes?”

Snorting, Rainbow caught herself before she lost altitude, as close to the water as they were. “You might,” she agreed. If Lightning was pulling that sheepish face, then Rainbow could push through her own awkwardness and talk about the things she’d prefer not to, but knew she needed to. “Look, my first show with the ‘Bolts, I nearly got a lot of ponies hurt. Myself, my teammates, even the crowd.” She could feel the blush on her cheeks like it was burning, but Lightning had to hear it, and had to hear it from her. “My whole first week there, the main thing I did was try to show off.”

She hung her head, losing herself in the clear waters stretching out beneath her. “That’s why I walked blindly across the runway: I was showing off. I messed up, and everyone teased me for it.” She looked up at Lightning again. “And they were right to, because I should have grown out of that behaviour by then.”

The look she got from Lightning said ‘I think you’ve missed the point,’ which probably meant Lightning herself was the one who’d actually missed it. “Are Wonderbolts meant to grow up?” Lightning asked.

“I didn’t mess up at the Academy,” Rainbow said as plainly as she could, “and that only gave me a bigger ego for when I made the team.” The shame didn’t feel so bad when she was using it to help somepony else, but she still spoke quieter than normal. “If I’d failed at something back then, I might’ve been more level-headed by the time I was on the squad. A team player from the start, and much safer to be around.”

Maybe Lightning understood? She looked like she was thinking about it pretty hard, screwing her eyebrows up as she looked one way and then another.

After half a minute of that, she spoke up again, sounding curious. “Why did you abandon me in favour of the others? Why take their side and have me publicly stripped of rank?”

Nope, Lightning hadn’t listened to a word Rainbow had said, had she? I might have known. “Because you were acting like an ass.”

But perhaps Rainbow had misjudged it, because Lightning stayed a lot more calm than expected and held up her hooves between the two of them instead of getting more angry. “No, no, I get why you think that,” she said, “and why that would lead anypony else to do what you did. But I don’t get how it fits with the loyalty thing. Loyalty is…” she paused to think, eyebrows pressing together and one hoof on the base of her neck, “something that happens almost in spite of the evidence, not because of it.”

Her eyes flicked across to Rainbow, like she was checking she was thinking along the right lines and Rainbow was following, “It’s trusting those you know even when others doubt you should. So why did your old friends and the other tryouts get your loyalty, and not me?”

Like many things, loyalty wasn’t something Rainbow thought about, just something she did. How could she give an answer when she’d never had one before? It had obviously felt like the right thing to do, both at the time and looking back now.

“I guess I thought they needed it more.”

“They were both groups,” Lightning said. “Your friends, and the other recruits; they all had someone they could turn to except me.” The curiosity in her voice was overtaken by accusation. “I only had you. I needed you.”

“And they needed protecting,” Rainbow said straight back. “It didn’t matter how many others they each had on their side when it was me who had to bring it up with Spitfire. I was the one who had to decide.”

“You could have decided to save me.” As well as the anger when Lightning stared at her, Rainbow could see the pain in her eyes. “You could’ve said I was worth another chance, that I could have learned to put more focus on safety if I’d known that was what Spitfire wanted, instead of her encouraging and rewarding me for doing it my way right up until she threw me out.” Lightning was panting, now, and her flight pattern peaked and dipped as each wing beat became more powerful but further apart. “A warning first would have been nice.”

It felt like hitting a turbulent patch of air, but on the inside, as Rainbow’s confidence wobbled. Spitfire had gone from saying Lightning made the better lead pony because she pushed herself more to kicking her out all in one move. How much of that had been because Rainbow had resigned? Before that, Spitfire had said the tornado was excessive; would she then have mentioned that to Lightning and suggested pulling things back in a more gentle way? So how much of it was her own fault, putting pressure on Spitfire like that to have only one of them or the other.

But then, Rainbow had done things on the other side, too; her own attempts to bring Lightning around. “I gave you plenty of warnings,” she said, the words coming out as more of a growl than she meant them to.

“She didn’t.”

From that angle, Rainbow began to understand why Lightning had such a problem with Spitfire. Lightning was wrong, of course – that was just how it had worked out, and Rainbow was at least partly to blame. But she could see how Lightning would think that.

I need to set things straight here.

But Lightning kept going, “Even if not keeping me as lead pony, you could have argued I should be made wingpony rather than expelled.”

And if Lightning blamed her for that already, then taking some of the extra blame she’d dumped on Spitfire was only going to make her want to help with Fluttershy even less.

“You would have hated being a wingpony, even mine. You wouldn’t have stuck it out, and might have disobeyed my lead and done your own thing anyway.”

Had that been too blunt? It felt true, though. And maybe that was part of why Spitfire didn’t offer Lightning a second chance; knowing she wouldn’t accept less than leader?

“Does telling yourself that make you feel better about it?” Lightning was breathing hard through her nose, hard enough to hear a wingspan away. She didn’t take her eyes off Rainbow, daring her to look away and check what was heading towards them. Luckily, Rainbow’s last glance had revealed nothing but smooth waters for miles around.

“Does telling yourself the opposite do the same for you?” Not exactly Rainbow’s most original response, but she gave it a different tone. Even if Lightning was right, and she would have made a great wingpony, that kind of made it worse, as she’d still been kicked out. “I’m not sure it should.” At least if Lightning realised that she was a lead pony or nothing at all, she could get used to just not being a good fit with the ‘Bolts. But if she kept kidding herself…?

“Maybe you’d have done more to defend me if you hadn’t had your sights fixed so firmly on that lead pony badge yourself.”

Silence – the really tense kind of silence, like when waiting for thunder to follow lightning – took over the conversation as Rainbow thought about how to answer. It was only years of flying that kept her wings going completely by themselves.

She had been crushed when she’d been made a wingpony. And even after she’d spoken with Spitfire about it, and understood the reasons behind the decision, she’d still thought it was the wrong one. Even if she and Lightning had made the best team, there was always something second-best about being a wingpony that just didn’t feel like her.

Not only could they have swapped roles on their team, but, if the team itself wasn’t working out, then they could have been split up, and each been a lead pony with a wingpony of their own. Somepony else would have been upset at being demoted, but Lightning was right that even when they’d stuck to the rules, they’d been better than the others.

And Rainbow hadn’t thought of any of that. She’d never exactly said to Spitfire ‘it’s her or me,’ but she had said that Lightning was reckless, and that if recklessness was what the Wonderbolts rewarded, then she was out. And that was kind of the same thing.

Which had left Spitfire having to choose between two ponies, both of whom had recently broken Academy records. But only one of them had ever pulled off a sonic rainboom. Only one of them had ever saved the three top ‘Bolts from an unconscious fall while a full stadium crowd watched. She tried to keep her ego under control instead of letting it control her, but even Fleetfoot – Fleetfoot, of all ponies – had mentioned that Rainbow had saved Equestria more than once. How much choice had Spitfire really had? How much choice had Rainbow given her?

She looked away from Lightning, and her voice cracked when she spoke. “That might be true.” She made herself look back again, with a tight feeling in her chest as she did. “I stand by everything I’ve said today, but if anything I did back then was unfair, and influenced by that, then I’m sorry.”

Lightning said nothing. Not with words, anyway. But the smile she gave Rainbow, that said something. For years, Lightning must have waited for some sign from anypony involved that it hadn’t been entirely her fault, and maybe somepony else shared the blame even a tiny bit, and that smile had been waiting all that time. It said, ‘we could have been such friends.’
> i
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m sorry, I think I upset your marefriend.”

I definitely did, but I don’t think I could have done anything differently. Spitfire tried to look contrite all the same, dragging her eyes away from where Rainbow and Lightning were disappearing towards the house over her shoulder, and dropping them to her lap.

“Don’t sweat it, she’ll live,” Aria said, waving her drink around in a carefree gesture before sipping it through the straw. “She’s normally upset about one thing or another.”

Apart from the short lip of sand before her, the clearest ocean Spitfire had ever seen stretched from one edge of her peripheral vision to the other, and above the unbroken horizon fluffy, happy cumulus clouds dotted the sky in the distance. “Even here, in this wonderful place?” She couldn’t imagine being unhappy here. It even looked like Aria had chosen that exact spot because the palm tree overhanging them would provide shade once the sun reached its zenith at noon and became too intense to bear, but remain out of their way the rest of the time.

Aria’s lips pressed into a thin line curving up, a rueful impression of a smile. “Her demons are all internal. Nowhere to run – or fly – not even here.” She pinched the bridge of her nose with a hoof, closing her eyes and shaking her head, but only for a moment. “Leads to her getting cross about the silliest of things. I told her to get that transplant.”

“Transplant?” Spitfire didn’t remember anything out of place from Lightning’s Academy checkup, but that had been several years before.

“To replace the heart with a second liver. So she could drink more and care less.”

To punctuate the remark, Aria took a deep draught of her cocktail. Spitfire chuckled, but she vaguely remembered hearing the same joke from Fleet a few years before. Once Aria’s straw started making the slurping noise of only finding air between the ice cubes, she set down the functionally-empty glass.

“Is that your strategy then?” Spitfire asked, sucking up another strawful of her mojito and feeling everything be fine just for a second. There were definitely worse vices to have.

Looking down at her barrel and smoothing some stray patches of fur with one front hoof, Aria’s face was blank. “I never cared all that much to begin with.” She made a small gesture of turning her hooves up, a shrug that never reached her shoulders.

“Yes you did,” Spitfire said, more softly than she’d spoken until that point. Aria arched an eyebrow, so Spitfire clarified, “Maybe not about most things, but… Since your sister mentioned what happened to your gems, I’ve been mentally comparing it to losing my wings.” Not voluntarily. Even with the warmth of the sun on her feathers, she felt a shiver run through them, travelling into her spine and up her neck however hard she fought it off. Some subjects pegasi did not discuss. Wing loss was top of the list. “I know how much I’d care. So I don’t believe you.”

“Oh, we lost our wings too,” Aria said immediately. Conversationally, like it was no big deal.

…

Spitfire had no words.

Mentally flailing from the shock revelation, she knew her eyes had shot wide open and she’d otherwise frozen, which Aria must have seen but didn’t react to.

“Or flight fins, you might call them,” Aria continued, “which you can see earth ponies clearly don’t have.” She held up her forelegs, glancing at each just below the knee, and then raised one hoof over her shoulder and tapped the top of her back.

A dorsal fin and shin stabilisers, rather than wings? Obviously that would never stay airborne without magic, but even then, while the streamlined profile would be great for speed in a straight line, she couldn’t imagine a siren like that having much agility.

And then Spitfire realised what she was doing, and shook her head to try to think clearly again. Ok, not clearly, but with perspective. Siren flight mechanics weren’t nearly as important as how Aria could never fly again.

“Grounded and magicless,” Aria said, tipping her head back on her neck to gaze at the sky, “cut off from the wind and the waves by our own bodies.”

Why had Princess Twilight made them earth ponies? Spitfire wondered. Would they have been too hard to keep track of as pegasi? Surely the Princess of Friendship was better than just doing it to punish them. However bad they’d been, nopony deserved that.

“And home at last,” Aria added more wistfully, then gave a quiet snort and continued, “but it’s a home we barely recognise.” She brought her head all the way forwards to rest her forehead on one hoof, in turn resting on the other at the elbow on her stomach. She looked across at Spitfire, one eye peeking out from behind the hoof. “It’s all rather morbid when you add it up, isn’t it?”

All Spitfire could offer was a commiserating smile. Everything she’d seen of Aria, with all her barriers, gave the impression she’d treat a hug as a patronising invasion of her personal space. But Spitfire might have hugged her anyway, if not for being there to track down Fluttershy – when the risk of alienating Aria was just too great – because anypony in her situation deserved it. Perhaps needed it.

Aria reached down to her roofed side table and lifted up a fresh cocktail. A Long Island iced tea, from the looks of it, much like the last. She took a long sip through the straw, closing her eyes and leaning back to rest her head on the back of the chair. Some of the tension slumped out of her muscles and the corners of her mouth crept upwards in a relaxed smile, which didn’t diminish when she opened her eyes again and took in the view out to sea.

“But it’s not so bad really,” she said, taking another sip, her eyes half-lidded but more likely from contentment than desire. “Flying, for example, is so long-gone now that I hardly remember it, let alone miss it.”

A dazed Spitfire accepted there was no way she’d ever be able to relate to that. All those times she’d interacted with Princess Celestia, yet the perspective of an immortal had never seemed further away. To not remember flying, the freedom of hanging in the air, instinctively balancing lift and weight, thrust and drag…

Continuing, Aria said, “Same with swimming, in any meaningful sense.” She gestured open-hooved to the panorama they sat in front of. “Open sky and sea for as far as I can see; that’s immersion enough to make do.”

And the sun loungers being situated on the sandy salient, giving water on three sides, made more sense in that context. Not that it would otherwise be a bad spot, with the waves almost hypnotic in their tranquility, but the vibrant green of the forest was picturesque too, and mostly unseen from their spot.

“And the magic…” Aria struggled with that one. Her easygoing expression faltered, but, after turning her attention to her cocktail for a couple of seconds, she shrugged again and picked up the same lazy almost-smile as before. “That doesn’t matter to me nearly as much as my voice itself, so as long as I have that…”

...Wait, what?!

Pony ears were often the hardest thing to control when it came to not visibly reacting, and it took Spitfire a lot of effort to keep hers from pricking up at that. She then made doubly sure her voice would obey in sounding like she was just casually contributing to the conversation before speaking. “I thought you three lost them along with your magic?”

Aria grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Ever seen a town burst into song for a spontaneous musical number, all singing in harmony despite never having heard it before? And none of them singing off-key either, but all having the resonant voices of professional singers?”

Of course; it was the reason she went through every training session quietly hoping that nopony on the squad was going through a personal crisis that week, so they might actually get things done instead of singing about their lives. If she had to hear Soarin go through one more rendition of Equestrian Pie…

Was that not normal, then? Did that not happen in the world Aria had spent a thousand years in? Everypony could sing, as long as they felt confident; that was just how singing worked.

“Equestria has magic in the air, quite literally,” Aria finished, “and it means my voice is just as good as always.”

“Congratulations on getting that back,” Spitfire said, and she meant it. Since she was holding her glass anyway, she raised it in a toast in Aria’s direction. Aria returned the gesture, and if there’d been a moment on the visit when Spitfire felt they sincerely connected, that was it. Even if there was some lingering dread that ‘just as good as always’ might be implying that Aria was potentially armed at that very second?

The happy response from Aria didn’t last long, with her staring out to sea looking pensive. “It’s safe now, though. Without magic, my singing can’t bewitch anyone.”

The mild clenching in Spitfire’s stomach eased up after that confirmation, but she also couldn’t help having some sympathy for Aria. Would a manticore with its claws removed be a fair comparison?

Aria dropped her eyes down to the cocktail glass in her lap, studying it while her thoughts were most likely elsewhere. “No more conquering Equestria for me.” Then she set her drink down on the side table and paused for a few seconds to yawn, with Spitfire noticing that the rebellious siren far from society still covered her mouth as she did so. “But I can live without the crowds of others adoring my voice, because, having gone without it for two years, I love it myself more deeply than anypony else could understand.” Where arrogance might have been expected, Aria spoke only with satisfaction.

Any Wonderbolt could relate. Not understand, no – just as Aria said. But perhaps those who finally flew again after being injured and grounded for long periods could start to appreciate it. Maybe it was a self-image thing, with the discomfort caused by who you were and what you could do in your head not matching up with reality in the flesh? And in Aria’s head, she had a voice to fill stadiums, Spitfire guessed.

“I like the independence that comes with that,” Aria looked up and to one side thoughtfully. “I’m not at the mercy of others’ approval anymore.”

That does sound ever so freeing. Know your own strengths, and perform for yourself. If anypony else likes it too, that’s just a bonus. If you needed the roar of the audience to fuel your self-worth, you’d never be happy off stage.

Aria had her drink in her hoof again, like it naturally belonged there. “The world can do its own thing, for all I care,” she said, waving her glass in the general direction of the mainland, her offhoof gesture declaring ‘the world’ to be something far away. “It’s no concern of mine.”

She raised her drink to her lips, gazing out towards the horizon, and they sat in silence for a while as Spitfire did the same. Tempting though it was to glance sideways at Aria from time to time to gauge her mood, Spitfire knew she couldn’t do so without it being noticed, which would interrupt whatever calm Aria had found there.

“But it feels smaller,” Aria said after a time, as if she were talking to herself, “living without that ambition.” Her focus appeared to be on the sunlight sparkling on the crests of the tiny waves, and the hoof not holding her drink rubbed her chest over her heart as she spoke. “You just enjoy things as they are, rather than looking forward to where they’re going, or driving to get there.”

That sounded a lot like retirement to Spitfire, something a lot of ponies apparently looked forward to. Not her, though: the day she stepped down as captain would be the saddest of her life. To wake up in the morning with nothing to strive for made her wonder why to bother waking up at all.

One of the techniques she’d considered for getting Fluttershy’s location was to bring Aria around to Spitfire’s way of thinking. If Aria could be encouraged to empathise, she might tell them what they needed to know. ‘Not much chance of that’ had been her conclusion, but instead the reverse had happened, and she found herself understanding Aria’s perspective more and more.

But the quiet exchange wasn’t to last. After another thoughtful pause, Aria’s voice turned waspish. “Is that enough to rule me out as a suspect?”

From the way the tips of Aria’s ears had turned red, Spitfire guessed she’d realised how she’d been self-analysing, and perhaps that the last bit didn’t make her sound too happy about her situation.

While some ponies might cooperate more if they thought they were in more trouble than they were, others might push back harder. Aria didn’t come across as the first of those sorts. And the softer approach had been working, so backing down the threat level was probably the best bet.

“You never were.” ‘Person of interest,’ she thought would be the correct term. And she had to maintain some pressure, remembering how Aria had toyed with them earlier. That might be why she was being more talkative now, although that could also have been thanks to the extra cocktail she’d been through in the meantime. Or even how she didn’t have Lightning and Rainbow as an audience anymore. “We’re here because a princess is interested in finding your sister regarding the suspected abduction of one of her friends.”

‘Good luck with that’ politely smiled the message from Aria’s raised eyebrows. “Do you have enough evidence to make the charges stick?”

What charges? There was probably something, like refusing to help an investigation, perhaps even tied in with national security, what with Fluttershy’s necessity as an Element of Harmony. But nothing that would be taken seriously unless Spitfire absolutely knew what she was talking about, which she didn’t. Next best thing, then. “No, but you’d probably be on the royal watchlist for life.”

There was bound to be one of those, right? Even if it was just Princess Celestia’s list of promising up-and-coming cake bakers.

“We’re sirens,” Aria scoffed. “Our magic is fuelled by your misery. We tried to take over two different worlds and we’ve never once said we’re sorry, because we aren’t.” From the way she held eye contact with Spitfire, there was no doubt she meant every word. She smirked. “We’re already on every watchlist Equestria has.”

Funny to think how Spitfire had been empathising with her just two minutes before, when she now seemed so alien. “Fair point,” she conceded, frowning.

Aria’s lips shifted into a grin as she spoke, one that looked like she couldn’t help it spreading. “That’s one of the many reasons I live on a deserted island: it’s quite a challenge for ponies to blend in while trying to spy on you surreptitiously when it’s known that nopony else lives here.”

At the thought of highly-trained spy ponies not quite knowing what to do in response, the grin slowly appeared on Spitfire’s face as well.

“After a few days,” Aria continued, plainly trying to hold back her snickering, “once it became obvious I was building a house and intended to remain here, they chose to leave me to it rather than stay and build their own.” She turned her lower lip up in a cartoon pout, then covered her mouth with a hoof as she descended into tittering.

So Aria had arrived in Equestria, and, having served her time in the other world, been greeted with a new body, not far off a new life, and had the chance to be a part of society again, and responded by fleeing to the far edge of Equestria to live apart from everypony? “Kind of a self-imposed exile,” Spitfire observed.

Shaking her head, Aria held off actually speaking in response until she’d had another strawful of her drink. “Nah, I’m not Adagio.”

Just as with Sonata the day before, Spitfire’s attention became even more focused at the voluntary mention of Adagio’s name. Again, she had to bite down on any external reaction, managing to control her ears that time around.

“I’d have come here anyway,” Aria said, “for the textbook description of paradise. And I’m not keen on any ponies or people; the ones watching me just have better taste than most.”

Spitfire snorted despite her frustration over no further Adagio details being revealed, and shared a companionable grin with Aria as they each savoured their drinks. She could have gladly emptied her glass in one go, but between remaining sober enough to get what she needed and the trip to the makeshift bar interrupting a conversation which might be getting somewhere, she thought best to stick to one. However perfect several more might have been on that beach.

“But why come back to Equestria?” she asked. “This doesn’t seem much better than your previous banishment, from where I’m sitting.” Obviously, physically it was; physically it was better than just about anywhere. Did that really change it from being just as cut off as before, though? “And nopony was watching you there.”

“We all wanted to sing again,” Aria shrugged. “And Adagio had an old friend she wanted to look up.” She crossed her forehooves behind her head where she reclined, looking up and tilting her head to one side in thought. “It makes a difference that I chose it, too. I could get up and leave anytime I like, so I hardly feel trapped here. The observation ponies would probably reappear” – Aria rolled her eyes – “but that’s still a lot more choice than I had before.”

If singing voices and wings were equivalent, then yes, Spitfire would have moved worlds to fly again. Without hesitation. And accepted constant surveillance, too; although she might have just put up with it instead of galloping off to live away from other ponies. And even with that, nopony enjoyed being powerless, so she could understand the difference in attitude towards a voluntary withdrawal.

The hint about Adagio looking up an old friend could mean many things. A fourth siren, one who remained in Equestria for whatever reason when the others were banished? A mortal she’d once known, whose descendants were still around today? For that to have been a significant factor in why they chose to return to Equestria, it had to be important.

Asking about it – or showing any kind of curiosity there at all – would be far too obvious, and no doubt refused. Spitfire spent a few seconds mulling over everything Aria had said.

Where did she go next? She tried to remember which of the many angles tried with Sonata had worked best. The key there had been talking about Sonata’s relationship, a subject she’d been happier to open up about.

“So how’d you meet Lightning then,” she asked, “if you’re way out here by yourself?” Aria had left Ponyville the night she arrived, Rainbow had said, and done so alone.

“It takes a while to get anywhere when you’re an earth pony,” Aria grimaced, “particularly when you can’t afford the train.”

Spitfire’s eyes widened, contemplating how long it would have taken her and Rainbow to make the journey on foot.

As Aria continued, she put on a noble expression, her words gaining stature as they went on. “So the journey south west was a long, winding trek, sleeping under the stars, hitching cart rides towards the coast, and playing the flute in inn common rooms to pay for my meals.” She was in full-on courtroom bard mode by that point, gesturing with her hooves, her voice rising and falling to make the delivery more dramatic. “And though my saddle bags were my only constant companion, many colourful characters were met along the way.”

As Aria spoke, Spitfire’s eyebrow drifted steadily upwards, and her lips curved into a smile. “And Lightning was, what,” she played along, “working behind the bar in some pirate-frequented tavern at the port?”

“Probably,” Aria returned to her usual dry manner of speaking. “It would explain her proficiency at whipping up a daiquiri or a Long Island iced tea at a moment’s notice, which is one of the major things I look for in a mare.” She shrugged, waited a beat, and then nonchalantly added, “I met her after placing an advert in the paper on my second day here.”

Spitfire snorted with laughter, grateful not to have been trying to enjoy her drink at the time. Dramatic storytelling and perfect comic timing – the sirens might have given the Wonderbolts a run for their money as a headline act, even without their singing voices.

...Maybe that was going slightly too far, but still.

Her raised eyebrows – both of them, now – disbelievingly encouraged Aria to go on.

Mixing another smirk with an air of it not being a big deal, Aria said, “If the authorities are watching you anyway, why be discreet about it?” She finished her cocktail, bypassing the straw and drinking whatever was left directly from the glass, then set it down and rested her head back against the top of the sun lounger, eyes closed. A happy sigh followed.

“You know I’ll look that up in the archive when I get back,” Spitfire teased, “so you might as well just tell me now what it said.”

Reciting without opening her eyes or moving from her relaxed pose, Aria said, “Wanted: Gorgeous young mare to share a lifetime of sunbathing and cocktails on desert island paradise. Hatred of normal, nice ponies preferable, especially those to do with the Magic of Friendship.”

Oh, the alarm bells that must have set off with Princess Twilight…! And Aria said she placed it on only her second day back; talk about a pony starting as she meant to go on. “And that brought you Lightning Dust. I can see how it fits.”

Half-rising from her lounger to support herself on her elbows, Aria made a put-upon face with puppy-dog eyes. “We share a trauma of not being appreciated by the world.” The suffering in her voice would have put a starving filly to shame.

Rolling her eyes, Spitfire shook her head and finished her mojito. She really could have gone for several more. “Some might say you’re both just asses.”

“They might,” Aria chuckled, lying back and closing her eyes again. “And the world doesn’t appreciate how good we are at that.”
> a
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How did Aria know we were here about her sisters?”

Rainbow flew all day, every day. It was just what she did. Even when everypony else was walking, she’d be in the air, almost hovering just to stay as slow as them. She could handle staying out longer with Lightning. Of course she could.

But her wing joints were really starting to get sore. It wouldn’t have been so bad if they could land for a few minutes and then get going again after a stopover, but their first heading had been away from the other islands, so there was only deep water underneath them, and nothing else until they got back to Marewo.

The flight back to Ponyville was going to hurt.

“I’d guess one of them told her,” Lightning shrugged.

Her wings were probably fine, since she hadn’t crossed half of Equestria already that day.

After a second, Lightning added, “Or she figured out that since we don’t really interact with the outside world, they were the most likely link to whatever trouble you arrived because of.”

But how would the message have got there in time? Spitfire had been talking to Sonata only the day before, and, although she’d needed to wait around for a while for Rainbow to be ready to fly, there was nopony in Equestria who could catch the two of them once they were in the sky. And hadn’t Spitfire said that Sonata had still been in with Twilight and Starlight for a while longer? So how had she been able to get a message out?

They just didn’t know enough about the sirens.

“Ever met either of them?” She tried to make it sound like a casual question, just something somepony would naturally ask in her situation. But ‘undercover’ wasn’t really her style – she was more about punching and kicking in all directions as the changelings tried to close in on her – so she felt a bit sick with the pressure of having to act like that.

Maybe Rainbow was better at it than she thought, though, because Lightning didn’t act like there was anything suspicious about it when she answered.

“We met up with Sonata in Las Pegasus for a couple of days. She brought Filthy Rich along, too; I’m not sure why, she doesn’t so much need a coltfriend as she does a foalsitter, or at least a care worker.” Lightning wiped one hoof over her eyes and down her face as they flew. It was probably too much to hope for that she was getting tired from the flight and wanting to head home, rather than just thinking about Sonata. “I only lasted an hour before I left the rest of them to it and went off to find the bar. Half an hour after that, Aria joined me.”

Just as Spitfire hadn’t known about the sirens’ history until being told on the flight over, Rainbow wished she’d asked more about what Sonata had said in her interview. “They don’t get on, then?”

Lightning snorted. “There’s a reason we use the term ‘sisters’ here for the other two sirens – it’s because Aria can’t stand the thought of calling them friends.”

So it was kind of the opposite of Rainbow’s own bond with Scootaloo, who liked to see Rainbow as like a big sister because friendship hadn’t been close enough for her? But, thinking of Fluttershy and Zephyr Breeze, Rainbow had to admit that brothers and sisters could be close without actually liking each other.

“So she doesn’t even like Sonata, but you still went to Las Pegasus to see her?” It came out sounding a bit more accusing than Rainbow had meant it to, probably because she’d remembered Zephyr existed. She tried to laugh it off, scratching the back of her neck, and then explained, “I wouldn’t have thought either of you would feel like you had to do something like that if you didn’t want to.”

From the looks of it, Lightning took that as a compliment. She blushed, which Rainbow guessed was less to do with the compliment itself and more about how she hadn’t lived up to it that time.

“It’s a weird bond those two have,” Lightning said. “They can’t stand each other, but can’t stay apart for too long. Like they’re joined by need, not want.”

That was… kind of sweet? Maybe? It had kept them together for a thousand years or something. And also explained why they lived so far apart.

The blue waters rushed underneath her, somewhere between the colour of Lightning’s coat and her own. Something about the way the ocean extended out in all directions made her feel small in a way that open sky didn’t. The sky felt like something she was in charge of, but the ocean didn’t care if she was there or not.

“What about Adagio?”

Lightning’s expression changed immediately, the half-friendliness she’d been showing since their conversation about the Academy disappearing. Her voice was just as flat as her mouth and eyes.

“I’ve met her once.”

Ouch, Rainbow winced, that was even worse than how she might once have answered about Gilda or Lightning herself. She felt her ears turning red and her back knees pressing together, which only reminded her how much they ached. “That bad, huh? When?”

Before answering, Lightning gave her a long look with serious eyebrows. Normally Rainbow would have taken the hint and moved onto a different subject, but with Fluttershy missing it was too important to let go, so she didn’t look away from Lightning’s stare.

“She came to visit a couple of months ago.” Lightning looked straight ahead of her as she talked and flew, even though there was nothing to look at besides empty sea and sky, and she clenched her jaw after finishing.

“Wow,” Rainbow raised her eyebrows, reacting more than she normally would to try to get Lightning to say more. “Nopony else has seen her at all since she arrived.”

Muttering under her breath almost too quiet to hear, Lightning said, “Maybe they should count themselves lucky.”

Having only picked out most of the words, Rainbow had to put the sentence together in her head and go through it once or twice before it made sense to her. But how did you then answer in a conversation if you weren’t sure whether you were meant to hear what the other pony said or not?

“So how did she get to yours without being seen?” She figured it was best to just ignore it and carry on from the previous thing she’d said, especially when that bit mattered more anyway.

“Teleport,” was all Lightning said. She bit her lip, too, and her voice was a little quieter than when she’d said Adagio came to visit.

“But she’s an earth pony…?” ...But only because Twilight made her one. If Adagio had found a way to adjust the pony body spell Twilight had set her up with, could she become a unicorn if she wanted to? Or a pegasus? Or…

“She wasn’t alone.”

Even with Lightning’s dark tone, Rainbow breathed a sigh of relief. Just the thought of Adagio being able to do magic again was a scary one, and it had been galloping away from her. Maybe if she responded in a joking way, she could put Lightning in a better mood to answer more?

“She travels with an entourage, huh? I might’ve known.”

That didn’t really help, going on the look Lightning gave her.

But looks weren’t going to find Fluttershy. She had to get something more solid from Lightning, so she had to keep going with it however hard Lightning made that.

“And what was she like?” Rainbow pressed. “Just how unpleasant can she have got in one visit?” Again she remembered Zephyr. Some ponies really only did need one visit for you to wish they never made another.

“Unpleasant?” Lightning raised an eyebrow at Rainbow, sounding a lot more interested in talking than she had been. “Far from it. I’ve never seen such good manners.” She still wasn’t quite relaxed, as far as Rainbow could tell, but definitely better than before. “Even Aria described her as being on her best behaviour. Though not within her earshot.”

Running a hoof through her mane, Rainbow frowned. “So what’s the problem?”

Several times, Lightning opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it again. She looked this way and that as she did so, until finally she said, “...She’s not like Aria, Rainbow.”

Well yeah, I wasn’t exactly expecting another round of margaritas when we got to her place…

But Lightning carried on, like she was still trying to figure out what to say as she went along, “Aria… You can kind of tell Aria is a villain. She’s all coolness, snark, and deliberately pressing ponies’ buttons, when she isn’t just rage.” Lightning smiled as she said it but also rolled her eyes, so it sounded like those were things she liked about Aria, but maybe they got old after a while.

Kind of like how they all loved how Rarity put so much effort into how she looked, but it got annoying when they were in a hurry, or needing to go someplace muddy?

“Adagio, though…” Lightning said, swallowing. “You wouldn’t know it.” She stared straight ahead again, but this time it seemed more dazed than moody. “You can be having the most normal conversation with her for a long time, and then out of nowhere one of her offhand responses will hit you, and it’s like your wings stop working and you’re plummeting towards the ground.”

You wouldn’t know?! With the lead siren, who tried to take over Equestria and make life as bad for ponies as she could? Even with Discord, you could tell. And that was after three or four years of him hanging out with Fluttershy!

“How do you mean?”

Blowing air out between her flat lips, Lightning made a face that said she didn’t know herself. “There’s no self-loathing there. But no towering ego either. She’s not ashamed or proud of what she is. But she doesn’t have the icy detachment that comes with being indifferent to it, either.”

So what did that leave? Starlight and Princess Luna had hated themselves for things they’d done in the past. Tirek, Chrysalis and Discord had boasted about how bad they were, or at least acted like it was something worth celebrating. And the third kind Lightning mentioned? Luckily, Rainbow didn’t think she’d met any ponies like that. Maybe that Canterlot food reviewer Rarity had mentioned would fit, but that was about it. And if Adagio was nothing like any of those…?

Lightning looked across at Rainbow, shrugged, and shook her head. “She’s just a nice, normal pony who is utterly at peace with being evil.” Then she went back to looking where she was going, like there was nothing else to say about it.

And maybe she was right, since Rainbow couldn’t think of much either. It was like somepony saying that Wonderbolts might be more awesome if they flew slower – so different to everything she had thought ever that she didn’t really know what to do with it. So she let the silence go on for a bit, because she wasn’t quite sure what else to do.

The ocean rushed by underneath them, but when looking back up to the horizon it was like they weren’t moving at all. Even with them flying only a wingspan above the surface, the water was so calm that they hadn’t seen any waves worth worrying about.

After a while, she started to see that if that was just how Adagio was, then, even if nopony else understood it, they still had to deal with it if they saw her. It almost didn’t matter why she might be that way, they just had to decide how to react to it.

“So why didn’t you just throw her out?” she asked. “I mean, it’s your place, so…?”

Coughing, Lightning looked away before answering. “It is, but only thanks to her.” She gave a sheepish grin. “Adagio bankrolls the whole thing.”

“Right. Yeah, I can see why kicking her out would be tricky.” Rainbow rubbed the back of her neck. “Why her?”

Lightning turned her bottom lip out and spread her front hooves. “She’s the one with the money. Loads of it.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know, really,” Lightning frowned, looking up to one side. “It suits her, so I never thought to ask.”

I guess when you’re friends with immortal singing fish-horses you just get used to stuff like that?

“Huh. Well, it’s very nice of her to set you two up like that.” And it didn’t sound like the sort of thing done by somepony who was completely evil. So that was a good sign, and maybe Lightning was wrong?

“It is, yeah,” Lightning nodded, breathing out deeply enough for Rainbow to hear. “I think it’s mostly just to keep Aria out of her hair. But it would probably stop if we told secrets to ponies like you that she’d rather we didn’t.” Her eyebrows squashed together. “And then we’d be stuck on an island with no food, no drink, nothing.” She pinched the skin on her throat, rubbing it as they flew. “We’re too far away to get ashore and back each day for work, and there’s no infrastructure closer. A mailpony comes by three days a week, but that’s it.”

If anypony that day knew first-hoof just how far it was to the mainland, it was Rainbow, and she had the tiredness in her wing muscles to prove it. No, that wouldn’t be a good trip to work and back each day, if that was the only option. “Then why live all the way out here, if it leaves you so needing Adagio to be nice?”

“Aria’s idea,” Lightning grunted. After a look from Rainbow pushed her to say more, she gave a sigh. “It’s what you do, isn’t it? Get rich, retire to a desert island.”

That was definitely Rainbow’s plan, someday. And she’d miss her friends unless they all did it too, so they’d all have to buy a desert island together. But hadn’t the sirens come from the ocean to begin with? So if a desert island was what they each wanted, why had they attacked Equestria at all? And since that had led to them getting exiled...

“So she’s living everypony else’s dream after the death of her own?”

Woah, that was deep. I should write that down or something. Maybe she could send it to A.K.Yearling as a suggestion for a line in her next book?

“Just as I thought the thing to do was to get away from it all,” Lightning admitted with a smile and a roll of her eyes, “and that that was done by disappearing to the other side of the land and working in a bar. It’s what you do.”

It wasn’t working, trying to guide Lightning in the direction Rainbow wanted. She might never get the answer that way. Lightning was too busy feeling sorry for herself over having the easiest life in Equestria, or acting dark and moody because that was what her villain marefriend liked or something. And none of that would help Fluttershy.

“I need to know where Adagio is.”

“I can’t tell you that,” Lightning answered, only just managing to make eye contact before quickly looking away again. She sounded quieter than Rainbow expected, too. Looking over Lightning a bit more closely, Rainbow narrowed her eyes, noticing more clues.

“...Your hooves are shaking. And that’s not just concern in your voice.” She pushed out one cheek with her tongue as she thought, but she was fairly sure she was onto something. “If somepony gave you a life like yours for free, you’d be nicer about them, whether you liked them or not. Even if they were as bad as you say; because they’d been that generous.” Even Rarity had never paid for somepony else just to live and do the things they wanted before – Sweetie Belle didn’t count. Although perhaps that was just because Rarity couldn’t afford to.

“She really does give us that; you can ask Aria when we get back if you like.” Lightning still didn’t really look in her direction, and didn’t deny the other bits, which only made Rainbow more sure.

“I believe you about that bit. But not just that you’re worried she might cut you off.” She looked carefully at Lightning again, so she could watch exactly what her reaction was. “It’s more than that. You sound scared.”

It was very quiet, but Rainbow still just managed to hear the sharp breath Lightning took, and wouldn’t have seen the tiny widening of her eyes if not already looking out for it.

“And I don’t know what could scare you,” Rainbow said, “because I’ve seen you come out of a tornado talking about how awesome it was.” So the idea of something scaring Lightning was kind of scary itself. “What could Adagio be planning?” She shook her head to herself. “Boatloads of money and a secret castle. What’s she got hidden away out there?”

The tendons in Lightning’s neck were standing out as she answered. “Not what.” She closed her eyes for a moment and tilted her head, like she was trying to fight off a shudder. “Who.”

“How do you mean?” Rainbow wondered if she should put a hoof on Lightning’s shoulder, but couldn’t take the risk she’d react angrily, not when she was that close to giving answers.

Licking her lips, Lightning said, “Adagio’s values are reflected in the company she keeps.”

After a second had passed, Lightning clearly wasn’t going to say any more about it, so Rainbow jumped in with questions that might get her to add more detail. “Is that ‘Hades?’ Fluttershy mentioned the name in her letter.”

“Hades?” Lightning asked, raising both eyebrows. She snorted. “Hades is the least of your worries.” She smiled at that, but her eyes widened too.

“Then who is it we should be worried about?”

Straight away Lightning’s smile vanished. “Can’t tell you that.”

“She has my friend!” Rainbow knew saying something like that and expecting Lightning to care – at least more than her own fear – wasn’t going to help much, but she could hardly stop herself.

But it did seem to soften Lightning a little bit. “Aria might tell you; she knows Adagio a lot better than I do, so she can take more risks in that respect.” Lightning shook her head, and kept shaking it as she carried on speaking, like she couldn’t stop. “But I’m saying nothing. There are some who you do not cross or sell out.”

Rainbow locked her jaws together, keeping her mouth shut and grinding her teeth, because she knew if she didn’t she’d say something that would make things worse. She tried to concentrate on taking slower, more even breaths, only flaring her nostrils a few times when she lost control. She couldn’t look at Lightning.

But she became aware after a while that Lightning was looking at her.

A hoof poked her shoulder. “You might be able to figure it out for yourself, though,” Lightning said, and turning to her at last showed a supporting expression on her face, like Soarin sometimes gave Rainbow after a hard practice session.

“How?” She grabbed at the top of her head with each front hoof, pulling on her mane. “She could be anywhere. All we know is that there’s a castle in a desert.” Releasing her mane, she shook her forelegs, still bent at the knee, hooves to the sky above her. “Somewhere!”

It was over so quickly she might have imagined it, but she was fairly sure Lightning rubbed her shoulder before letting go and returning to the normal forelegs-straight flight position. “If you wanted to withdraw from the world and live where nopony would ever find you, where would you go?” She sounded like Twilight did when trying to explain something, trying her best to go through it in steps small enough for Rainbow to follow, even if that was really annoying.

“Here, I guess,” she scratched her head.

“Right. And if you were vain enough to want a whole land to rule over, how could you do that without riling up the princesses?”

The princesses ruled the whole of Equestria, and the only places they didn’t came with bigger problems, like dragons, yaks and griffons. No way around that that she could see. “...I’m not sure you can,” she frowned.

Lightning gave a sad smile, the kind which said it was a lesson she’d learned the hard way. “You pick a land so unappealing nopony else would kick up a fuss, so empty they might not even notice.” She looked away, her eyes appearing to drift over the view in front of her. “That’s the secret to keeping hold of your successes: build something nopony else wants.” She turned back to Rainbow, adding, “No one ever felt cheated out of being wingpony.”

That is… really depressing? Especially when Lightning’s life was one that a lot of ponies would be jealous of; did that mean she didn’t believe it herself, or that she didn’t realise how lucky she was? In the middle of that thoughtful moment, Rainbow also remembered that Lightning never had met Vapor Trail, which might have changed her view.

But anyway, where did Lightning’s answer actually leave her? “Ok, so, a big empty desert.” She tried not to sound too frustrated – because Lightning was trying to help, even if not in a very helpful way – but some might have still come through. “That’s kind of where I started anyway.”

“So you need a way to narrow it down,” Lightning said like it was all that easy. “Somepony in one of those areas who might have seen a stray castle.”

That was a point, though. Castles weren’t hard to spot, and were the sort of thing ponies might mention. If it was an old castle, somepony might know about it, and if Adagio had had it built since she arrived in Equestria, then there had to be records of construction teams and stuff doing the job.

“Yeah, there’s got to be somepony I could ask. I could put the word out to the mayors of all the desert towns and cities, getting them to check building records and that kind of thing.”

That would take time, but Twilight could probably get it done quicker. Maybe Spike could send the instructions out to everywhere with his magic dragon breath?

Lightning narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together. “I think you might be missing something there.”

Then tell me! If anyone had seen anything, the town mayors would have access to the records, or could maybe suggest which ponies might be worth speaking to about it. If there was an easier way, great, but it was like being made to guess a secret while the other pony just sat there grinning. Lightning at least wasn’t doing that, or looked like she was trying not to.

Shaking her head to herself with a hoof over one eye, Rainbow admitted, “...Probably, but, since I don’t know what, I’m kinda stuck.”

“Come on,” Lightning groaned, “it shouldn’t be this way around. I was the one looking up at those above” – She pointed to herself with both hooves, then to Rainbow instead – “you were the one preoccupied with those below we were treading on to get there.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning here you are, your first port of call to talk to those living a life of luxury, unaffected by and unconcerned for the world. And your first suggestion is the mayors of all those towns?” She scratched her jaw. “Maybe you should be asking the little ponies.”

Maybe Rainbow had just got used to having a princess as a friend, but finding Fluttershy definitely sounded like a problem in that kind of league. She could ask everypony in Equestria if they’d seen anything, but it would take forever, and she needed answers straight away.

All she could answer Lightning with was a confused look.

Lightning covered her face with a hoof, then waved them both in the air each side of her head, shaking them with each word. “She and Aria swap letters three times a week! Clearly the postal service know where to find her!”
> -
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The steady lapping of the waves on the sand guided Spitfire back to the waking world. It soothed her as her eyes flickered open, hypnotic in its constant movement. She was lying on a beach, cool sand beneath her back. A thin sliver of a moon trailed glistening highlights on the low backs of waves in the dark waters, rushing in to wet the sand a couple of wingspans in front of her each time. And the stars, they watched down on her as a million pinpricks of light in a canvas that seemed so immeasurably vast and distant, and yet at the same time only a hoofwidth away. The details of Princess Luna’s night sky were the only sources of light as far as she could see, right out to the horizon.

And there was a voice.

There was a voice like nothing she’d ever heard before.

Her dreams had been all over the place. Sometimes hazy, like her eyes or her memory had pins and needles, sometimes vivid but bizarre, sometimes erotic, as sirens did more than just flirt with her. And that voice had haunted them, running through like a common thread as far back as she could remember. A soft, ongoing melody of wordless oohs, or lyrics that hovered just beyond the edge her ability to make them out.

She pushed herself up to a reclining position, supported on her elbows behind her, and waited for her head to stop spinning. Looking to either side made it worse, but there on the left she could see Rainbow sound asleep in her sun lounger, whickering on each outbreath almost too quietly to hear over the waves. How many cocktails had they stayed for, in the end? A whole day of research, if it could be called that, and not much more learned than Rainbow’s clue from her flight with Lightning. All while running on no sleep.

Spitfire’s head throbbed, but all in all it wasn’t too bad. She pulled herself further forward with her core muscles until she was sitting on her rump, then held her head in her hooves for a moment as she again waited for it to settle down. The ethereal singing carried on the whole time, coming from somewhere behind her.

With great effort, she made it to her feet. Steadying herself, she turned away from the water to look further down the beach. Letting her ears guide her, she crept along the coast, taking care not to disturb Rainbow behind her or the singer ahead – as if her identity were in doubt!

And there she was: a pony silhouetted against a backdrop of the moonlit ocean, framed by two palm trees. The outline of the braids falling about her face made her look all the more exotic as she faced out to sea, with Spitfire approaching her from the side. She could hear the words more clearly now, as Aria emptied everything inside of her into the music, and put every singer in pony history to shame.

“And I descend from grace, in arms of undertow…”

Even up close, it was delicate enough to avoid rattling her brain inside her skull, as most other sounds might have in her state. She wasn’t sure how Aria would take being interrupted, but thought that staying back to listen unannounced would probably go down worse.

She wove her way slowly along the dark beach until she stood beside Aria, matching her pose gazing out to sea.

Aria stopped singing. There was nothing around for the sound to have bounced off, so it must just have been in Spitfire’s mind that it echoed on and on.

They stood there in silence, only a wing apart, for what must have been at least a minute. The cool breeze coming off the ocean was refreshing, but not so chilling as to raise goosebumps. The slight difficulty balancing was less noticeable now she was standing still, but the aftermath of the afternoon and evening of cocktails also left her mouth dry and tasting unpleasant. And her breath stank of booze; there was no avoiding that.

Without warning, Aria started speaking, more monologuing to the waves than addressing Spitfire in conversation.

“Serenity, tranquility, peacefulness – another might just as easily call that stillness loneliness.” Aria’s voice had a whispery kind of resonance, a gracefulness it hadn’t by daylight, as if it had picked up some depth and mystery from her singing. “But I think it’s beautiful.”

She paused, her chest expanding and contracting as she silently took in huge lungfuls of the sea air. It smelled different by night, perking Spitfire up instead of lulling her to sleep.

Aria’s voice took on a more wry tone, but even that was muted in the nighttime stillness. “So here am I, living on a desert island, the place you’d move to above all else for its glorious sunshine, and yet I’m more nocturnal than not.” She snorted. “The sunshine at night is about the same here as in Canterlot.”

The stars are better here, though. The lights of Canterlot smothered the night sky, whereas Marewo showed it the clearest Spitfire had ever seen from below the cloudtops. Even in the dark, the island was picturesque.

“I always did like the night,” Aria finished with a sigh. “I’d switch off the sun if I could.”

They both continued to stare into middle distance, eyes held in place by the motion of the waves despite not really focusing on them.

After a few moments, Spitfire responded, “I can put in a word with Princess Celestia, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” Her first attempt at using her voice since waking up came out scratchier than expected, so she swallowed, trying to rectify it without having to shatter the still by clearing her throat.

For a while, Aria said nothing, not shifting where she stood.

Then, unprompted, she turned her head to look directly at Spitfire for the first time. “I didn’t mean to wake you”–

Spitfire preemptively waved a forehoof in the air in dismissal of the apology she imagined would follow.

–“but I don’t really care.”

Huh. Well, that’s a possible response too. But all that vanished into insignificance when she in turn swivelled her own head to face Aria, and caught sight of the other side of her face.

“Whoa, what happened to your eye?!” She blurted out, much louder than anything either of them had said until that point, surprise and concern overriding everything else.

The skin around Aria’s far eye was a hideous sight: massively swollen, and dark enough to look black in the moonlight. The eye itself was almost lost in shadow beneath the inflammation, but it looked like it might have been bloodshot solid red.

“Don’t worry about it,” Aria said, “it’s fine.” There was even a quiet chuckle in her voice, a more casual and lighthearted dismissal than even Spitfire’s own had been towards the apology for being awoken. What would lead a pony to amusement at that kind of injury?

And then images appeared in Spitfire’s memory, connections being made to things she’d thought she’d dreamt. But, now she focused on them…

Noises woke her. Maybe. Were they noises? She was lying on a sun chair thing, the world was reeling side to side like she was tumbling in freefall, and the sunset over the sea in front of her fizzed and blurred, like she’d been pressing her hooves against her eyelids for too long.

She went to stand up, nearly falling on her face as she did, but getting all four hooves under herself in time. Then she took a step forwards, and ended up going forwards and sideways. But that was ok, she adjusted, lurching to the other side with the next step, pointing herself at the hazy shape of the house and stumbling in that general direction.

She heard more noises as she got closer. Yes, they were definitely noises. Bedroom kinds of noises? If Rainbow and Lightning were… “Shh!” she said to her hooves, putting them down softly on the sand with each step, and making extra special sure when she got to the house to slow down and steady herself before leaning against the wall beside the window.

The lights were on inside, so it was easy to see in when she snuck forwards, just hoping that the ponies inside were enjoying themselves too much to notice her face at the window. It was… It was Lightning and Aria! Spitfire let out a huge breath and collapsed back against the wall.

No, that hadn’t been a dream, had it? She really had woken up from her drunken snooze and caught their hosts in the throes of passion. She rubbed the back of her neck, looking down at the sand and crossing one foreleg over the other. ‘Caught’ might be stretching it, having blundered right the way up the beach to the house to do so, but it certainly sounded better than ‘perved on.’

“I might’ve, uh, overheard you, earlier,” she blushed. She forced herself to look up at Aria, wincing. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Even with only one eye to go on, Spitfire could see the twinkle of mischief appear. “Sure,” Aria said, “why not?” She started to waggle her eyebrows, but immediately broke off with a sharp intake of breath.

But if that wasn’t the reason, then…?

After catching her breath, Spitfire blearily peered through the window again. Aria was wearing something over her front half, something familiar from somewhere. Spitfire squinted, as maybe that would make her eyes work better, and then couldn’t quite believe what they came back with. Was that a Wonderbolts drill sergeant’s uniform, just like her own back home? It even had the right pins and everything!

“Gonna break some records for me, hot stuff?” Aria cooed. “Think you’ve got what it takes to be the best? I’d hate to disabuse you of that notion.”

That was the point when Spitfire fled.

So she was an object of somepony’s bedroom fantasies now? She’d always assumed, she supposed, but never actually seen it before in reality. And it wasn’t what she expected.

But how would that fantasy have ended?

It was not lust that Lightning had been looking at her with during the day.

“Merciful Celestia,” Spitfire breathed, “did she do that to you…?” She brought a hoof to her mouth, feeling it starting to tremble. “I-I knew she had attitude problems, but I had no idea she–”

“It’s ok,” Aria said, much too calmly, “don’t blame her.” She even smiled. “I made her do it.”

Every instinct Spitfire had said to put a hoof on Aria’s shoulder, if not pull her into a hug. But she slammed into that urge – given what Aria had been through the last time a mare touched her, that was the worst thing she could possibly do. She felt like a monster for it, though, her face twisted in anguish at having to hold back when Aria needed it so desperately.

“You can’t blame yourself for that,” she said, instead trying to put as much comfort into her voice as she could, “it’s never your fault.”

Is it mine? Would Lightning have snapped like that if she hadn’t had to spend the day in the presence of somepony she’d flown to the far side of Equestria to get away from?

No. Whatever factors had influenced Lightning, she’d reacted like that because she was unstable and violent, and that was the end of it.

Aria took on that look Spitfire had seen on numerous Wonderbolts trying to be polite but firm in turning down eager fanmares. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but.”

And then Spitfire’s eyes widened even further as she remembered Aria’s other injuries she’d noticed when they’d arrived, now barely visible in the dark. The bruises, the marks around her neck. The signs that had been there all along. Who else could have inflicted them, when there was nopony else who lived on the island but Lightning?

“But nothing. She can’t treat you like this.” Wanting to hold Aria close and keep her safe became twice as tough to resist. Spitfire bit her lip. Her eyes felt watery, too.

Though she also had to recognise that Aria didn’t appear all that affected by it. Sonata had been very convincing for all her stories, so maybe sirens were better at hiding their true emotions than ponies, but Aria’s apparent indifference to it really didn’t seem like she was covering denial, or fear or anything else.

Covering her good eye with a hoof, Aria could be seen to take a measured breath, and then spoke animatedly. “If your blue friend” – Aria pointed towards the beach where Rainbow still slept in her chair – “or someone else you know turns up someday sporting an obvious injury, and she tells you it was her fault somepony did that to her, or that she provoked it or whatever, then you’re absolutely right to intervene. And you shouldn’t let any of her attempts to excuse whoever did it stand.”

There was a firmness in her voice that would tolerate no arguments. She really did believe it, then, when it applied to anypony else. Before Spitfire could ask the obvious, crucial question, Aria gave an answer. Her voice dropped back to that of her night time musings, but holding no less certainty.

“But I’m not like them,” she looked straight into Spitfire’s eyes and shook her head. “I’m a siren. And I do deserve it.”

The delusion ran deep, it seemed, and in spite of her own ego. Perhaps ego was the wrong word – Aria hadn’t at any point come across as especially proud or full of herself, but she had acted like she owned the place. And in fairness to her, she did. But that confidence definitely seemed at odds with someone who believed they deserved to be hurt.

“I hadn’t realised you were the self-loathing kind,” Spitfire said, aiming to get Aria’s back up just enough for her to see the truth, but not so much as to make things any worse for her than Spitfire could avoid.

And the opposite happened.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Aria chuckled. “My whole life I’ve fed on hatred and strife–”

“That doesn’t mean you deserve her punishing you!” It came out more forcefully than Spitfire intended, but maybe that was no bad thing.

“–And just because I’m a pony now and don’t need it,” Aria continued unphased after Spitfire’s interruption, then slowed to deliberately pronounce each word, “doesn’t mean I don’t want it, or don’t like it.” Her voice seemed to caress each syllable with malice. “Bringing out negative emotions in others is what I do.” And Spitfire had thought some of Aria’s smiles during the day had been wicked, but they had had nothing on the one she wore when she whispered, “It’s what I love.”

I can’t… I don’t… I don’t even know where to start with that.

Perhaps oblivious to how Spitfire had forgotten how to brain and was looking blankly ahead of her, Aria chuckled again. “It’s one of the reasons my sisters and I are better off not living together.”

So she’s kind of like Fleet, but, times a hundred? Because Fleetfoot did love to wind ponies up. Like when she sometimes appeared to find it hard to be in the same room as Soarin without throwing bits of cloud at him. Something about frustrating others like that just really amused her. So if you ramped that way, way up…

And if they responded as Lightning had, well, there were some ponies who were into that, Spitfire supposed. She didn’t know how far the level of masochism usually went in those things, though she guessed hooves to the face was towards the extreme end. Or you’d see more ponies walking around with black eyes, right?

“You’re saying you enjoy it, then?” Hesitatingly, she leaned forwards and peered around Aria to get a closer look at her injured eye. She hissed at the sight: puffy and blown up to twice its normal size. And what was the risk of permanent damage from doing that sort of thing regularly?

“The actual pain?” Aria spoke conversationally again, “No, not really. That hurts.” She rolled her eyes – at least, she rolled the one Spitfire could see clearly. “But knowing that I provoked that kind of reaction?” Her voice became low and throaty. “That that need to hurt someone came from me? That’s the most satisfying feeling I know.”

You, who earlier today were saying the best thing was something as wholesome as having your singing voice back? Spitfire felt her eyebrow wander upwards pretty much of its own accord.

Aria pursed her lips, looking up to one side for a moment before answering thoughtfully. “It’s like a feedback loop. Every instance of pain brings with it an ecstasy inside that I brought that out of someone. That I drove them to that.” She smiled, flashing her teeth. “And that’s so worth the pain.”

Squinting at Aria, trying to work out how sensible a mindset she was in to be saying such things, Spitfire sucked in her breath. “That sounds pretty messed up, but also like you’re trying to justify it to yourself.” Finally she let herself reach out to put a hoof on Aria’s shoulder, figuring it probably wouldn’t distress her if she was that deep in… whatever it was she was that deep in. “I’m sorry, but, if that’s what you’re telling yourself to feel like you’re in control, then you need to stop. This isn’t healthy!”

Just stick to being drunk all day sunbathing? Even that would be better than this, health-wise.

For the first time Spitfire had seen since her arrival, Aria really, properly let her guard down. Or, again, seemed to. But if the sincerity in Aria’s gaze were faked, Princess Celestia ought to hire her as a spy or something.

“You are sweet, little pony, and you are naive.” She shifted, not quite deliberately shrugging off Spitfire’s hoof, but moving so it appeared to naturally fall. “But worse than that, you assume I am.”

And the image of Aria as a youthful, relatable pony dropped away. She still had the smooth voice and skin, without a wrinkle in sight, but her single visible eye deepened with a wisdom Spitfire hadn’t ever seen outside of the royal sisters.

“I’m over a thousand years old,” Aria said. “I do this because I want to, and if I didn’t, I’d leave, or I’d kick Lightning out. There’ve been a hundred lovers before her, and there’ll be a hundred after. Unlike my sister, I’m not the happily ever after type.”

She turned back to the waves. Only, now, to Spitfire’s eye, Aria wasn’t just a blip in the ocean’s history, a tiny transient in the life cycle of the never-ending swirl of the currents which swept the world. Aria was, by the standard of pony lifespans, just as permanent as the sea itself, and could have been singing to it almost since Equestria was founded.

Though looking at the water, she spoke in a way that still clearly addressed Spitfire. “I’m afraid the cliff notes you were given on domestic violence don’t quite stretch to cover me. This is what I look for in a relationship.”

How could Spitfire ever get the answers she needed out of Aria, when the life of a siren was so far beyond her understanding? They might as well have sent me to learn the secrets of the ocean itself.





A few restless hours of attempted sleep and a slow, sore, seemingly-endless flight later, Spitfire and Rainbow were in front of a mail clerk in Las Pegasus, ushered to the front of the queue and given the celebrity Wonderbolts treatment despite looking a complete state.

“We’re looking for an address,” Rainbow said without preamble. If the green stallion behind the desk found it blunt, the way Rainbow leaned both elbows on his desk – head held up on one while she scowled – probably put him off pointing it out. “All we know is that it’s a castle in a wasteland, and you have to fly over a desert to get there.”

“...Right,” the mail clerk replied, wide-eyed, before his professionalism reasserted itself. “Do you have a name?”

“Adagio Dazzle,” Spitfire supplied, her voice sounding even coarser than usual. On any other day, self-restraint would have kept her from rubbing sleep from her eyes in front of everypony, but after the two days she’d had that was the last thing she cared about.

“Hmmm, let’s see,” the clerk flipped through a big, heavy book of what looked like records, each page sorted into the same columns. “Oh, Dazzle, yes, I know the one,” he said as his hoof came to one particular entry. “Long route, treacherous too.”

Spitfire screwed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together. She could practically feel the pain in her wings flare at the thought. But she opened her eyes again a moment later and put on a polite smile for the clerk; one last burst of manners and she’d have the answer she’d been driving towards all along. “And the address please?”

“Nocturne Castle, The Badlands.”

Letting go of her head, Rainbow dropped both forehooves flat onto the countertop and immediately sunk her forehead on top of them. “She’s in the Badlands,” she groaned.

There was no ‘of course!’ moment for Spitfire. She just sighed. “We might’ve known.”

“We’ve got a delivery going out that way tomorrow morning, actually,” the mail clerk said, looking down at his records log again and following the columns along Adagio’s row with his hoof. “Big supply run.”

Tomorrow morning? It was about noon, so if they rested the rest of the day and spent the night in the softest cloudbeds, then that ought to be ok. Mostly.

“How big?” she asked.

After a quick glance down again to confirm, the mail clerk said, “It’s a two-pony job. Regional sorting office in Dodge City; that’s their spur.”

Dodge City. Spitfire’s lips blew outwards as the air left her lungs. Right, that changed things a bit. They’d need to get half way across Equestria by tomorrow morning. Better to leave straight after lunch and rest on arrival, or sleep first and travel by night? Either way, she was going to need so much caffeine.

And then on to the Badlands the next morning.

Still trying to weigh up plans, Spitfire heard Rainbow speak up in the meantime. “We’re two ponies. Can we borrow a couple of uniforms?”

The pony behind the counter gave her a bemused look. “I thought the whole problem was that you didn’t know where it was?”

Even for well-rested flyers, the Badlands was notoriously tricky to navigate. Even the mail clerk had called it treacherous! So no, going without a guide was not an option.

“Good point,” Spitfire grunted. But a worse thought came to her. A much worse one. “Give us just a minute, please, we’ll be right back.” She headbutted Rainbow into moving off to one side of the queue. She would normally have used her wings to push instead, but no, they were staying firmly shut for as long as they could.

The mail clerk glanced around at the other ponies waiting in line, and looked for a moment like he might protest. But it probably wasn’t every day he faced Wonderbolts who looked like they’d been fighting griffons for fun, and so he quickly nodded and looked away.

“What?” Rainbow growled, which was probably fair, given the public headbutt.

Spitfire turned around to face her, leaning in close so she could whisper in Rainbow’s ear without being overheard. “She’s in the Badlands. She can teleport. Her ‘values are reflected in the company she keeps,’ you said.”

Looking intrigued, Rainbow nonetheless held a hoof over her mouth and yawned.

Fragments they’d learned about Adagio so far played over in Spitfire’s head, and any doubt she had in her theory drained away, replaced by a sinking in her stomach.

“Unlike my sister, I’m not the happily ever after type.”

“Adagio wanted to look up old friend.”

“Maybe my sister-in-law needs to pay you two a visit,” said to Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer. the ponies responsible on two occasions for saving Equestria from…

One thing Spitfire had taken away from her conversation with Aria on the beach the night before was that immortals, whether sirens or otherwise, were profoundly different to mortals, and only so much understanding could pass between the two groups. One immortal could only truly connect with another.

“Yeah, I think Adagio and Chrysalis might be a couple.”

Rainbow’s pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks.