Blaze

by canonkiller

First published

Spitfire was not always the leader of the Wonderbolts. In fact, she was never really a leader of anything at all.

Abut thirty years before Twilight Sparkle was crowned the third Princess of Equestria, a small band of travelling performers entertained the thin boundaries between Equestria and the neigh-boring lands. With fire-dancers, magicians, trapeze artists and the best darn circus the border towns had ever seen, it was a well-off little business.

But a young Pegasus filly, adopted from the roadside, still dreams of something more.


---

Art by me, so permission is automatically given.

--------------------------------
** This story was written when I was 15, and the quality and content reflect that. Please be aware that my position on topics contained within may have changed in the time between publishing and now, and I apologize for any offensive material that I may have condoned in my younger years. **

Crystal Feather's Travelling Circus

View Online

A gust of wind, filled with the sights and sounds of a carnival below, lifted a filly's wings higher, her golden coat a sunny smear against the pure blue sky. She dipped a wingtip, rolling slowly, and banked out over the big top, catching snippets of words and a loud cheer as she passed.

With a couple of flaps to pick up speed, she folded her wings shut, plummeting down towards the sandy ground, the faces of startled fair-goers below snapping into focus.

She opened one wing, spinning past the crowds below. She ducked through the extended legs of one of the stilt-ponies, banked around the edge of Rambo the dragon's lifted muzzle, and touched the beams of the Ferris wheel with a wingtip as she darted past.

Loud, repetitive music started up as she lazily drifted over the games, a young colt with a muzzle-full of cotton candy staring up at her in wonder. She grinned, looping down to ruffle his mane before floating back up again.

"Blaze Spitfire!"

The filly cringed, risking a glance over one wing. A tan-colored mare flew up from the crowds after her, auburn mane flowing and magenta eyes ablaze.

"You're grounded this week, remember?"

"I forgot?" The filly whimpered, hovering as her mother caught up.

The fury in the mare's eyes dimmed, but only slightly. "Ground. Now."

With a heavy, forlorn sigh, the filly slowly spiraled to the ground, landing solidly on all four hooves. Her mother landed nearby, turning her momentum into a short trot until she faced down her rambunctious offspring.

"Blaze, why did you disobey me?"

The filly cringed, shuffling her hooves. "I didn't mean to disobey, I just didn't wanna stay on the ground."

"Which is disobeying."

Blaze sighed. "Yeah, I guess."

"I'm making you stay with Rambo for the rest of the afternoon." The mare declared. "Come along. I can't leave the show for too long."

"You're not in costume," Blaze pointed out, trotting after her.

"I would be, if I wasn't distracted," she replied.

-----

Rambo was an old blue dragon with a large paunch and a small cage. Straw littered the metal floor, thrown in as an afterthought, and the old predatory turned a melancholy, whitewashed eye towards the two Pegasi as they approached.

"Another batch of wanderers, come to poke my back? I'll give you no show of flame tonight."

"It's me, Rambo. And Blaze, as well."

He smiled, showing rows of broken teeth. "My favorite miscreants."

"Blaze here has disobeyed her grounding orders and I have to go up to my act soon. Will you keep an eye on her?"

"An eye, no, but an ear and a claw, yes." He blinked, irises clear of pupils. "Tell the stagemaster to stop off at a hot spring before our next show. A great behemoth with rotting scales is not a formidable beast."

"I'll tell him." She promised, ushering Blaze between the bars. The filly frowned as her mother trotted away, snorting angrily.

"And was has you so riled, little one?"

Blaze turned her back on the tent's door, climbing up onto Rambo's back. "She's keeping me grounded because some stiff old horseapple complained that I nearly took his head off."

"Did you?"

Blaze kneaded her hooves into the dragon's tight shoulders, eliciting a quiet purr in response. "I wasn't that far away. He's just mad because my wake took his toupee off."

"I'm sure you'll be airborne at our next stop." The dragon rumbled. "Would you mind checking for any rotted scales? I wasn't kidding when I said I needed a bath."

"No worries." Blaze replied, skidding down his tail and retrieving the short, blunt pick. As she scanned his pale hide for marred patches, she tried to remember how she's gotten 'animal care' as her job.

As she found a damaged scale and began to pry at it, she recited her mother's law. "Any pony old enough to feed themselves has to have a job in order to keep us running. Just because your Cutie Mark is for flying doesn't mean you can perform."

Rambo chimed in for the last sentence of her grumbling. "Only the best of the best under the big top."

The scale came loose, revealing a the shimmering skin underneath. Resisting the urge to touch the sensitive spot - no matter how soft or squishy it looked - she moved further up his back. "She's so mean sometimes."

"Your mother?" Rambo questioned.

"She's not my real mom." Blaze frowned, scraping a hoof over another dented scale. "She's just some gypsy who saw me in a basket."

"Hey now, don't be fretting at the gypsies." The dragon lifted a hind claw, helping Blaze dislodge the scale with a quick scrape. "And don't be fretting at your guardian either. Most ponies would have left you."

"I wish she did." Blaze frowned, stomping a hoof. "All she does is yell at me!"

The dragon sighed. "She has the same wanderlust in her hooves that you have in your wings. She knows what she's given up to live this travelling life of hers, and she wants you to be as safe as you could be until you know the decision you're making."

"I'm not going to change my mind." Blaze warned, lying down on Rambo's wide back. "I'm going to keep flying until the day I die."

The dragon smiled, stretching a thin wing over her back. "I wouldn't expect anything less of you, Blaze Spitfire."