Their Pledge
“You three understand your orders?” Spitfire asked of the group assembled before her, as her veteran stare scanned over the three newest Wonderbolts. Their flight suits were immaculate, the only variation between them being the little of the pony underneath that the suits allowed to be seen past the blue and gold fabric of the suit itself.
“Yes Ma’am!” Three voices registered in near perfect sync, hooves clacking sharply on the ground as the respective right forelegs of the three bounced from ground to brow height in perfect time, offering a final salute to their outgoing commander.
“Good, you may proceed.”
Spitfire watched as the three about faced in parade step and started off to their assignment.
“Rainbow Dash!” The mare in the middle of the threesome froze at the sharp voice of her CO. “A moment, please.”
The prismatic maned pegasus pony curtly nodded to the other two and turned her path back to the fiery maned mare.
“Spitfire, ma’am?” Dash asked as she approached her idol, friend, and mentor.
“Dash,” the brilliant yellow commander’s tone dropped from official to personal, “there is a tradition among the Wonderbolts, a tradition regarding the last order of an outgoing commanding officer. What you just heard were my final ‘official’ orders. The final order given by an outgoing commander is not of the record, and that order I have chosen you for.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Dash replied as softly as she could and still be heard, “I understand, and that order is?”
“The order is given.” Spitfire replied smiling at what she was about to say. “Warp speed, at your discretion, Lieutenant Commander.”
“Ma’am?” Dash slipped her words out in an uncertain tone, pondering the meaning of the Captain’s order, until with a spark of realization it snapped into focus.
“Ma’am, yes Ma’am!”
“Good,” Spitfire smiled at her finest protégé, a pony she knew may well one day be giving her own final order as an outgoing commanding officer. “Now, you have your orders, and I have a wedding to get ready for.”
The pair exchanged a final salute as Rainbow Dash trotted off to catch up to her teammates and Spitfire headed for her private billet one last time. Her private billet, Spitfire grinned, after today it would be their private billet.
As she opened the door the sun-fire mare’s attention was immediately drawn to the shimmering pink-tinged-white and pastel rainbow form of Her Serene Highness, Princess Celestia of Equestria.
“Hello my little pony.”
Spitfire immediately snapped to attention, her hoof instinctively at brow height. Normally a pony was expected to bow to one of the alicorn princesses, Spitfire had become used to snapping to attention, with a clean salute, such was the status of a Wonderbolt. A status that when pen left parchment in a few minutes, she’d no longer have.
“Your highness.” The smaller mare addressed her sovereign. “To what do I owe your visit?”
“I’m here to wish you well on this special day, my little pony, and to thank you personally for your dedication and service to Equestria, and all its citizens, as a member of our finest aerial ambassadors.” The Sovereign of the Sun’s voice was a gentle as a breeze as she spoke.
“Thank you, your highness, thank you very much. I don’t mean to sound rude, but shouldn’t you be preparing for the ceremony?”
“Actually I’m here only as a guest, my dear Spitfire. My sister will perform the ceremony. A thousand years lost to a spell has granted her a much fresher recollection of the traditional Pegasi rites, than I.”
“I see, so this is just a social call your highness?”
“Not entirely, I am also here to relieve one Captain and anoint another, are you sure you wish to resign, my loyal servant?”
Spitfire brought her right front hoof to her belly, she had cast the die that night, and won or lost depending on how one looked at the result.
“Certain, your highness.” Spitfire smiled. “I’ve made my choice, and I’d make it again, and again.”
Of that Spitfire was entirely certain. When the monthly physicals had revealed her condition, she’d gone to Soarin and didn’t even have to say a word. He knew just by looking at her what the answer was, and what the question would be. He had bowed low in the traditional manner, lifted her left fore hoof in his and kissed it as he told her how he’d fly by her side to eternity’s end, and the answer she gave was ‘Yes’.
A soft pop of golden light cast off Spitfire’s reminiscence, a scroll and ink pen floated in the magical grasp of the Solar Sovereign. Taking the pen in lip, Spitfire signed her name to the parchment. Once at the top as Captain Spitfire, Commanding Officer of the 1st Aerial Display Squadron, and then at the bottom, as herself.
Another flash of gold and the pen and scroll vanished, and the princess leaned down and offered a snowy white wing in a hug. On release, Spitfire bowed to her sovereign as she departed and turned to her bedroom to finish her preparations.
Hanging her uniform in her closet, she looked at the chiton on her bed. The simple garment was white and covered only her barrel, in keeping with Pegasi tradition. The beaded peytral on the other hoof, was not simple. It carried like a charm bracelet a myriad of pendants, ornaments, tassels, and ribbons, each representing an achievement of the wearer’s life, and Spitfire had had no small number of accomplishments. Her full litany of rank pins from Year One Cadet to Captain of the Wonderbolts. There were markers of every season she’d preformed with the team, every major honor she’d ever achieved, from her first flight camp to now, and there were more were yet to come.
Her regalia complete she made her way to the fane at the edge of the mountaintop. It was a small semicircle of traditional fluted columns joined across the top by a curved decorated lintel. Traditionally the wedding was preformed cloud top in the sky, but due to the number of non-pegasi friends the small shrine at the academy had been chosen instead.
At the back of the throng of guests she met her escort of the remaining six senior Wonderbolts, all dressed out in traditional pegasi armor, as would be Soarin’. She was escorted up the center aisle sans fanfare. As she approached the stepped alter of the fane she could see Soarin’ standing proudly in full armored regalia. He was magnificent, the first male to command the Wonderbolts in five generations, the father of her foal, and soon the eternal other half of her soul, as if he already wasn’t.
Before him though loomed the Diarch Nocturnes, Princess Luna, grand in the decoration of a Pegasi High Commander’s armor. She sorely resembled the dread Nightmare Moon this way, but not so vilely. The black cloth armor had its sky-silver trim and panels polished to a blinding mirror finish, chamfrons, peytral, flanchards, crupper, all gleaming.
Though she had initially been disheartened at the revelation that Celestia would not be performing the ceremony Spitfire could see the difference between the two grand alicorns. Where Celestia’s form evoked light, Luna’s did not. Luna’s deep sapphire coat gave contrast to the high crested helm that reflected the clear blue sky above. The princesses ethereal mane and tail glittered with the reflections of the starry sky from which the ancient pegasi believed their ancestors had come from, children of the first pegasus that had been cast into the heavens by long forgotten gods.
It was if her wedding was being presided over by an embodiment of the sky itself. A tear slipped from Spitfire’s eye, and her heart soared.
Her escort stopped short of the front ranks where she continued on alone. At the front of the assembly she turned and bowed formally to her parents, head low, wings wide. Her parents merely nodded ever so slightly and turned their heads away, signaling their acknowledgment of her independence, but also their approval.
A pegasus’s choice of their wedded soul mate was strictly one of personal choice; no consent of parents by either participant was required, but the nod of approval meant a lot all the same. Soarin would have done the same on his arrival to the fane, and received like from his dam and sire.
As she mounted the low platform that the other two ponies stood on, she bowed respectfully to each in turn. Soarin first then Luna, Soarin then did likewise, to her, then Luna. The breach of etiquette was ceremonial and intentional, for in the eyes of each other, none could stand higher in status than the other, not even royalty.
Then Luna began the ceremony, her Royal Canterlot Voice booming out across the crowd and sky. Words shaped from thunder itself; this was what it was meant for.
“My little ponies, we are gathered here to bear witness to the vows of marriage of Spitfire, by Hawker out of Siddeley, and Soarin, by Lief out of Serene Wind, in the traditions of the Pegasi.”
The speech was short, despite living in the air, pegasi were not long winded. Deeds always spoke louder than words.
Luna withdrew to the far side of the ritual table as Spitfire and Soarin approached, a brief nod and smile from the alicorn and the two pegasi ponies faced each other and began the oath.
Two wings, one heart
One life, one soul
With this vow now, an eternal whole
No more are two
We now are one
From this moment onward
Our vow may be never undone
Many pegasi went their whole lives, lived, loved, had foals, maybe even with just one partner, but chose not to wed. To the Pegasi to wed another was to join oneself so inseparably, not even death could sever the bonds so forged of the Pegasus soul. One would wait for the other at the edge of the Elysian skys, so that their joined soul would enter eternity whole.
Vow complete the actions commenced, facing Luna the two offered their outside wing to the other, the male first, it was always the mare’s choice to abandon the act to the last possible moment before the oath. Spitfire knew she’d never back down, she never had her whole life, nor would she after this. She took a grip on Soarin’s longest primary feather with her teeth and pulled it from the wing. She then offered her own wing and Soarin drew the feather of his choice from it.
Together they placed the freshly plucked shafts on the table before the Princess of the Night, and placed their inside front hooves on the edge of the table. The officiating princess cut the tips in preparation for the signing using a knife of near perfectly clear crystal.
Quills ready, Luna then ritually touched the knife blade to the fetlock of each of the couple, then tapped it against the silver inkwell before her. It was symbolic of the blood Spitfire and Soarin had each had given to blend in the ink to be used. Their first act in marriage would be signed in their blood.
They signed the scroll.
“It is Done!” Luna’s Royal Canterlot Voice boomed out once more, before in a more reasonable tone adding, “you may kiss your spouse.”
The two pegasi leaned into kiss, Spitfire’s heart racing, Soarin’s for a different reason.
* * * * *
Rainbow Dash raced towards the fane side of Mt. Richthofen, Midnight Strike and Cloudchaser on left and right wing. Below them the cloud deck unzipped itself as their wake cut through it, the edges curling as they parted.
The fly past was timed to coincide with the end of the ceremony, the three junior Wonderbolts trailing blue and yellow smoke and separating as they passed over in a three way split as they rose up from below the cliff beyond the fane.
With a nod to her two wing ponies the three went vertical, Midnight Strike and Cloudchaser peeling away to their respective sides as Dash kicked the yellow smoke pot free of her hind leg, and set her sights heavenward. She let her self go calm as she laid her wings back flat and let the magic within her well up, carrying her faster, higher, until …
* * * * *
Spitfire felt Soarin flinch at the thunderclap as they kissed before the assembled crowd, a ring of colored thunder blooming overhead.
“I told her not to do that!” Hissed Soarin as the newlyweds parted lips finally.
“I know,” Spitfire smiled at her husband as she gave him a quick peck on the tip of his nose, “Captain’s final prerogative though …”
“Always wanted to go out with a bang.” Soarin smiled back at his wife as they dismounted the platform.
“Detail, atten-shun!” Rapid Fire snapped the command as the newlyweds approached the aisle between the guests, and the six Wonderbolts of the escort detail snapped to rigid form.
“Present, wings!”
Six wings shot straight from their owner’s sides forming a triple arch before their new commander and his wife.
“Leads, to the wind!”
The six wings tilted to place the leading edges towards the couple and form a roof to the recessional archway with the trailing feathers.
As Spitfire and Soarin approached the traditional pegasus wedding arch the first pair of wings lowered to halt their passage.
“Life demands its toll.” Rapid Fire asked with a cocky half-grin.
In response the newlyweds indulged in an affectionate kiss in payment, and were allowed to pass.
“Love demands its toll.” Misty Fly passed the demand, as she and Surprise lowered their wings to bar the path.
Again Spitfire and Soarin indulged in a kiss, this one deep and passionate in payment for their eventual passage.
"Death demands its toll.” High Winds spoke as the final pair of Wonderbolts barred the path.
Spitfire and Soarin looked at each other and grinned. This was the last part of the tradition. The happy couple abruptly spat at the hooves of the last pair, as they spread their wings and bolted skyward to the cheers of the assembled guests.
Death would not get its toll today or any other. They were one soul, which not even death could divide.
They were one.
