'Success'.
How do you define such a subjective concept? A victory that leads to fifteen minutes of fame? Or perhaps it's something more permanent.
What can you do to achieve it? Be incredibly talented, or ridiculously lucky? Maybe it's a matter of destiny.
How far are you willing to go to uphold it? Well it depends on your values....unless those are a whole different set of questions entirely.
And most importantly, what are you without it?
For anyone who's been fortunate enough to climb to the top of the pyramid, there's always going to be a time when he or she questions just how much their identity has come to depend on that glory. It's a time to reflect on the journey, and reassess what's important to them. Ponies in this stage might look back on their life when they were at the bottom-- for everypony inevitably starts there--and realize they might have left a very important part of them behind...or try to avoid thinking about it all together. This stage is called The Wake-Up.
Everyone's Wake-Up will be different of course, because when it begins and what the outcome is depends solely on the individual. Sometimes you won't start having doubts until you've made a huge mistake, and sometimes they trickle slowly into your mind over the course of months. There are those who will valiantly jump of their thrones of stardom upon discovering that what they value most has been the bottom, and those who will stab their loved ones in the back once their throne is at risk. The only thing that each Wake-Up has in common is that nopony comes out of it unchanged, wether it be for better or for worse.
And It just happened to be that a certain Captain of the Wonderbolts might have not been enjoying going through hers.
It was six in the morning when Spitfire was frantically stamping, signing, and reading over her usual paperwork with intense concentration, flipping from one paper to the next as quickly as possible. Something was strangely hypnotic (and maybe even theraputic) about the repetitive task, and she had even dismissed her bodyguards to get this done.
Read the mail, stamp the mail, onto the next one. Repeat.
Her pupils were retracted, and her thickset eyebrows furrowed against her eyes. The Equestria Games would be coming soon, and then the real mail would start coming in.
Read the mail, stamp the mail, onto the next one. Repeat.
All sorts of things from contracts, to reminders, to letters from angry fans demanding that the Wonderbolts take first place in the aerial relay.
Of course they would take first place. The Wonderbolts were only the best, most inspirational flight team in Equestria, and she was their determined captain. Part of that job meant making sure the team lived up to their title.
However, some recent events were starting to take their toll on her ability to have that inspirational spark...
It was only three weeks ago that she and her teammates headed over to the town of Rainbow Falls for the Equestria games tryouts, and at first things seemed to be going without a hitch. She and her friend Fleetfoot had been exerting themselves to their physical limits, training nonstop to ensure that the Wonderbolts were going to end up in the Games. It was only their other teammate, Soarin, who was....well, let's just say that Spitfire and Fleetfoot thought there could've been a little more effort on his part. It was no surprise to anypony, since Soarin had always been the most laid back member of the group, but something as big as the Equestria Games tryouts was neither the time nor place for such a mentality. In fact, the whole damn team was no place for even stepping one hoof out of line.
Long story short, there were some questionable decisions made during the course of those days involving secrets, lies, and damage to more than just Soarin's broken wing. It was a callous move on her part...
But there had been more to the betrayal than anypony would ever know.
Read the mail, stamp the mail, onto the next one. Repeat.
"Damn!" Spitfire exclaimed when she realized she had just stamped a horseshoe-shaped print in the middle of a fan letter, "How the hell did this get in here?"
Angrily, she stuffed the hoofwritten sentiment into her uniform pocket (for lack of a better place to keep it), and shoved the remaining papers to the side. Maybe she would take a break for a while, just to clear her mind.
Then again, if she didn't have a distraction, Soarin would surely start bothering her again.
They hadn't really spoken beyond polite small talk since the incident, but that didn't mean he wasn't bothering her inside her head all day---Particularly about a certain heated exchange that took place only a the night before the tryouts.
Spitfire chose the paperwork.
Read the mail, stamp the mail, onto the next one. Repeat.
Still, the words continued to echo in the back of her mind, hammering at her head with their jarring truth and angry inflection. Soarin was right about everything he said that night, and she hated him for bringing the truth into the light.
Stupid colt. She hated him for forgiving her after everything, too. Not just for her behavior at the tryouts, but the words she said straight to his face the night before.
She could really such a bitch sometimes. But he had no right to say those things just because he was being a lazy, stupid, jealous idiot who would never understand--
...No. How could she be thinking thoughts like that about her friend? And a friend that she had recently wronged, at that! A friend who forgave her after she lied and tried to replace him, a friend who looked beyond her flaws when they were painfully obvious, and a friend who saw her back when the rest of the world didn't.
But the words still stung.
It was always a stressful time for Spitfire before a show or competition, and the tryouts were certainly no exception. Thousands of ponies watching them, looking up to them, cheering them on to go faster. She would never think about any of those things--
Only the disappointed faces of the crowd when they didn't come through, for in every face she relived some of her darkest times. She would see the thousands of disappointed faces, and the unbearable bitterness of inadequacy surged through her veins.
She was not the best.
And when she wasn't the best, she wasn't even good enough.
Then you had the rest of the team, who had been laughing, drinking, and wishing the three of them going into the aerial relay good luck while Spitfire paced about the room, not even changed out of her uniform (as the Captain, it was her duty to uphold a level of professionalism in the Wonderbolts' base). The conversation was nothing but a loud, indistinct miasma of noise to her, but it reminded her a lot more of a sketchy college dormitory than an elite base where the world's most skilled pegasi trained to win flying competitions across Equestria.
Had they forgotten who they were? had they forgotten that one of the most important things in their life would be happening the following day? How the hell could they have possibly been goofing around at a time like this?!
She took a deep breath, trying to let them have their fun. After all, they had plenty of practice and everything would go back to normal once they got qualified. One night of casual messing around could not undo all that practice. Inhale, exhale...
"Hey Spitfire, come on and quit your pacing!" High Winds insisted, "It's a party! Just chillax."
Spitfire raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because last time I checked it was a major collaboration in slacking off."
All this got was an "Ooooooooh..." from some of the drunker members, and an eye roll from High Winds.
"Spitfire. I don't even think it's legal to to make us practice into the late hours of the night." she laughed, "I should report you to the cops."
Before Spitfire could retort, a blue pegasus with a shock of snowy white hair came into the room, her jaw dropping when she saw the cluttered rec room.
Fleetfoot froze in her tracks. "What...what in Equestria?!"
"Don't ask." Spitfire deadpanned.
High Winds grinned when she saw that Fleetfoot had joined them. "Yo, Fleet! Spitfire's actually letting us free from her crazy training obsession! Wanna drink?" she asked, gesturing to the ice cooler that was by the sofa.
"uh...no thanks," Fleetfoot said, then she turned to Spitfire, "You authorized this?"
"Hardly."
"Why don't you put a stop to it, then?"
"Because they honestly don't give a flying feather whether or not we make into the Equestria Games, that's what!" Spitfire said, glaring at HIgh Winds (who proceeded to ignore her).
"Maybe I should, though," Spitfire thought, "I'm the Captain. I'm in charge around here! They need to be reminded that we are the freaking WONDERBOLTS, not a group of highschool foals out for a good time!"
It was then that Spitfire had noticed Soarin was looking at her in an odd way, his green eyes communicating some slight concern as he sat quietly in the middle of the merrymaking. Huh. What was he getting all worked up about? "If I was him, I'd be putting all my nervous energy into getting ready for the tryouts tommorow." Spitfire thought. Though looking back, Soarin hadn't been too considerate or grateful about the role he would be playing once they qualified. If they qualified (after all, a lack of effort could lead to even The Wonderbolts failing a simple qualification test. How humiliating that would be).
As for why Soarin was one of the candidates for something so important, she didn't know. It's wasn't like he took his work seriously. In fact, there were times when Spitfire thought he was really only in it for kicks and giggles. When there was an opportunity to veer off course, he'd take it. When an Academy Cadette was being horribly impertinent, he'd let them off the hook. Soarin just wasn't exactly up to the standards she liked to hold for the team.
But as much as she and Fleetfoot hated to admit it, he was a mostly a nice guy, and neither of them really had the heart to tell him they'd rather have somepony else fill in for him.
"If you've got something to say, spit it out!" Spitfire exclaimed, causing Soarin to startle. She didn't like being stared at.
"No, it's nothing! I was just lost in thought," Soarin said, blushing. Then High Winds butted in.
"Damn girl, kinda quick to jump down his throat there, huh?"
"Mind your own business, Wind Bag." Spitfire shot back.
Soarin could already sense a fight brewing up between to the two mares, so he decided to try and defuse it before heads started rolling.
"I actually don't mind, I mean I was starting to stare, and it was making her uncomfortable, so.."
"Tsh. You don't need to justify her curmudgeonness, Soarin. Spitty here just always has a stick up up her ass," High Winds snorted, patting Spitfire on the back. Spitfire pushed her away.
"Look, I'm sorry that I'm the only one here who actually cares about qualifying! You wanna horse around all the time? Fine! That's why you're not doing the relay. But don't get on my case for doing my job right."
A few of the other partiers stopped to eavesdrop, since they could hear the conversation starting to get a little heated.
"If you veiw 'doing your job right' as putting us all through excessive busy work and treating the Equestria Games as your religion, then yeah! Good job, Captain." High Winds gave her a mock salute.
That was it. She wasn't going to take any more lip from this little bitch. She wan't going to take any more slacking off from any of these careless meat sacks! Spitfire grabbed the whistle that hung around her neck and blew into it as hard as she could, causing everypony in the room to cringe and cover their ears. There was silence.
"Listen up, all of you so-called Wonderbolts!" Spitfire shouted, her very eyes on fire, "I don't know how any of you wake up in the morning and live yourselves with the way you've been acting all through the Equestria Games prep! I work my flank off trying to get you pussies to do something--anything-- right, and this is the results I get? Look at yourselves! Do you even comprehend how inconsequential you all are to this team?! Fleetfoot and I could run this whole damn show ourselves, leave the rest of you unemployed, and still be goddamn famous! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"
Evidently they did.
The room was in silent shock as they just stared at her, their mouths slightly agape as she panted heavily from the exertion.
Some were surprised.
Some were confused.
And Spitfire just glared back at the faces, hoping she was concealing the fact that part of her wanted to run from the scene.
Soarin cleared his throat. "Well...ahaha...that escalated quickly," he said to the other Wonderbolts, trying to fabricate a fake laugh, "I think she just needs some fresh air..."
High Winds and the others began to murmur amongst themselves, probably starting to second guess their captain's sanity.
"I don't need fresh air, Soarin." Spitfire hissed, "I need you morons to step up your act!"
Soarin nervously laughed again.
"We'll be a moment.." He said, pushing Spitfire away from the crowd, and gesturing for her to follow him outside. Reluctantly, she obeyed.
"Spitfire..I...what the heck was that about?" Soarin stuttered, closing the door behind them and giving her a look that was one of both hurt and complete disbelief.
Spitfire responded by pulling her dark sunglasses over her eyes, and averting her gaze to the other direction.
Soarin sighed. "Come on, I know what's bothering you, Spitty. You get like this every Equestria Games."
Every single one? Really? What was he trying to accuse her of?
"If you're trying to get me to feel guilty for what I just said back there, then you're being stupid," Spitfire told him, "And frankly, I don't understand how you can witness them get all up in my face, and think I'm in the wrong for getting rightfully pissed."
"It was only High Winds who was getting all up in your face,and you said some really hurtful things to everypony."
"I said some really true things."
"Is that really what you think? Are the rest of us really that worthless to you?"
Spitfire could see in his eyes that this was not a rhetorical question, even though he was clearly trying to make it sound like one. He had been too concerned about securing her admiration since they were foals for him to be confident in the answer, and the firmness in his tone faltered a bit.
"They needed a push, Soarin. They're not trying hard enough."
"You didn't answer my question." The white pegasus said.
Spitfire growled. Why was he being so damn nosy and persistent? "I don't say something unless I mean it." she said.
Well, that was a blatant lie. But Soarin was being cocky, and that wouldn't be tolerated from anypony.
Soarin opened his mouth to reply, but found himself lost for words for a brief moment. Then his expression became one of anger.
"Well, if we're all so...so worthless to you, then you why do you keep on living through us, huh? Why does our performance matter so much to you if we have absolutely no impact on your life? Why do you get yourself and the team mixed up with each other to the point of where our failure is your own, spitfire?! 'Cause I'd love to know!"
Fury welled up within her solar plexus as she took the blow. Lies. He was a delusional, dirty little liar. If that was how he viewed her, then he was obviously making a half-assed attempt at covering up his own lack of motivation for the team.
"I don't have to take that from you!" was all she was able to defend herself with.
They glared straight into each other's soul before Soarin's expression softened a bit, and he spoke again.
"You're right Spitfire..." he admitted, "You don't have to take that from me. You can see your own flaws as clearly as anyone else can, but you just try and hide them from yourself. If you could bear to look at them, then you'd be one step closer to being free of them."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Spitfire hissed, "If you see hard work, determination, and discipline as a flaw, then that says a lot more about you than it does about me!"
"Obsession is a flaw. Backwards priorities are a flaw. Driving others to their limits to tame your own insecurities is a flaw, Spitfire!"
It was almost not right to be hearing such condemning words in Soarin's voice, or to be seeing such seriousness in his eyes. She had known him as friendly, easy-going, and even a bit of a pushover, but she had never considered he was looking straight into her anatomy and judging her behind his friendly mask. He didn't deserve her time and energy, but somehow the thought of his ill opinion of her made her feel like something was tearing apart her guts.
"You have no idea..." she began, her voice shaking with emotion.
"What? What do I have no idea about?"
Spitfire couldn't have been more grateful to have her sunglasses on at that moment.
"...You have no idea what it's like to not be good enough for anyone...to have your career be the only way they'll acknowledge your existence...you're too brain-dead to ever wrap your head around anything...!"
She was being weak, letting him and his sick emotional manipulation get the better of her.
Soarin paused before he answered, but when he did, he knew immediately he had made a huge mistake.
"The world isn't your dad, Spitfire. That's over now."
He did it. He crossed the untouchable line. There was overstepping boundaries, and there was treading on thin ice, and then there was shaking salt into a gaping wound.
"SHUT UP!" Spitfire shrieked, "That has nothing to do with this! Don't you ever bring that up again!"
She flung the sunglasses off her eyes, revealing that they had filled up with tears, and Soarin lowered his ears in guilt.
"I'm sorry, I-I was just trying to say that..."
"I don't want to hear it! Whatever you have to say, just please don't say it!"
Soarin flinched. "I was trying to say that I think you're worthwhile, Spitfire!" he blurted out, "It doesn't matter to me whether you win a stupid little game or not, I liked you before you became a Wonderbolt!"
'A stupid little game'. That was how he saw all this? The very thing she strived to win, the very thing she put her blood, sweat, and tears into was being insulted by being called a 'stupid little game' Unbelievable.
Spitfire flew above his head, trying to illustrate her sheer rage. "What are you trying to say? Are you implying that I shouldn't be a Wonderbolt just because you liked me better when I was just another paper bag in the wind?! Is that what you're trying to say, Sergeant Soarin?"
"No, I--"
Slap!
In cold blood, she delivered a hard swat across his left cheek, and it left a visible mark. Soarin took it like a stallion.
"Anything else you want to say to me, or can I go back inside?" Spitfire asked coldly. There was a moment of silence.
Slowly, Soarin nodded. "I'm sorry...I-I just want the best for you because...because I.." he was having trouble finishing the sentence.
Spitfire braced herself. He was going to say it. He was going to say it at the worst time possible, too.
"I..love..you.." he whispered.
He said it.
Spitfire shook her head and flew away without looking back.
That was what had happened the fateful night before the tryouts, though both of them had pretended like it never happened the following day. At least Soarin didn't. Spitfire had displayed various forms of passive aggression, from telling him to get his form right when it was already flawless, to...well, you know...lying and trying to replace him. She was deluded by the anger and confusion it brought her that Soarin (for Celestia knew how long) wanted to be more than friends. She couldn't feel relaxed and comfortable around him anymore with that fact inside her head.
Everypony had thought that it was a happy ending once Soarin was back on the team and Cloudsdale qualified. But they were wrong.
Spitfire had made it clear the night before and during the tryouts that she didn't want Soarin near her, and she got her foolish wish granted.
For the past three weeks there had been no more long, personal talks or flights around Cloudsdale just for the fun of it. No more banter. No more casual hanging out like they did at the Grand Galloping Gala four years ago. Just plastic smiles and perfect professionalism.
And he was doing it all because he thought she wanted him to.
Spitfire slammed her hoof-stamp down onto a document so hard that black ink splattered everywhere.
She never even got to apologize to him, goddammit!
She missed Soarin! She missed having him try to understand her and vice versa! She missed being confident that there was somepony out there who knew her so well he could dive into her darkest fears and do his best to expel them.
And what did she do with all that?
She tossed it all aside like it was some kind of nuisance.
She left him alone on a cold night after he admitted to loving her.
She acted like she was out of league when he was really out of hers.
"I'm sorry, okay?!" Spitfire shouted, though there was nopony in the room. It felt good to be saying it out loud, like she was relieving some kind of repressed tension.
She had been wrong. It was just a stupid little game like Soarin said, and he was right all along. About everything.
'What are you gonna do about it, huh? Sit here and cry like you always criticize others for doing?' her conscience asked her harshly.
Spitfire let her head droop onto her desk with a thud. "He probably doesn't want to see me. I'm an asshole."
She wouldn't have bee surprised if one day he stopped speaking to her altogether, and she had to admit it wasn't an unjust retribution.
"So you're totally fine with being just that? Not gonna do jack shit to change anything, wuss?!"
"I can't, it's too late." Spitfire groaned.
"Get off your flank and apologize already! You have nothing to loose!"
"No!"
"I won't shut up until you do! How's that, cookie?"
Spitfire grit her teeth together in frustration, wanting to crush the little voice like a cricket.
"Why you little...you're never going to leave me alone, are you?!"
"What do you think?"
Spitfire stood up off her chair abruptly. She had enough of this nonsense, and there was no way she could put up with it for much longer, especially after enduring it for three weeks.
"Fine! I'm going to give him a proper apology. Are you satisfied?"
"You know I'm never satisfied," her conscience said, "But you're starting to push yourself in the right direction. It's a start."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
(SOARIN'S PLACE OF RESIDENCE. 6:35 AM)
Soarin's house was pretty much like every other house in Cloudsdale-- a decent-sized cumulus structure with modern architecture and few non-cloud touches here and there for practicality. It was nice, Spitfire thought, that his home was so inviting and personal. Definitely a change in tone from the rigid symmetry of the Wonderbolts Base where she often spent the night.
As she walked up to the door and prepared to knock on it, Spitfire couldn't help but hesitate. It was still early...maybe he was sleeping (after all, any of the other 'bolts could attest to the fact that Soarin was lazy). Maybe she should've stayed in her office and spoke with him at more convenient time, like next Tuesday...or Friday....or some point in the future.
"Get yourself together!" She reprimanded, forcing herself to knock her hoof on the door three times. It wasn't going to be that awkward.
Soon after, the sound of hooves against a tile floor and furniture being knocked over could be heard, and the clumsy young stallion's repeated shouting of "I'm coming! I'm coming!"
Spitfire smirked at his adorable shenanigans.
A wet-maned Soarin with a towel messily thown over his head swung the door open, continuing his prattling.
"I'm sorry, did I keep you waiting? I was just in the shower when I--"
It was that awkward.
"Oh, uh, ...Spitfire! ..Hi." he stuttered when he saw who was at his doorstep.
"Hey.." she said, trying to keep her tone casual, "Is it a bad time?"
"Er..no, not at all! Don't sweat it."
Soarin did feel increasingly aware of his messy state with Spitfire in her crisp uniform and well-groomed fur, but that wasn't important, so he opened the door for her. "Come on in."
"Thank you."
The first thing Spitfire noticed about the interior of Soarin's home was that it was an absolute wreck, even making High Wind's party back at the Base seem like an improvement. Empty pie tins, un-ironed uniforms, and various pieces of junk scattered the living room, and it didn't take a detective to tell that he had spent the night on the couch.
"Sorry about the mess, I didn't have time to clean up," Soarin said nervously while tossing some blankets off the sofa, "You don't mind, do you?"
"Soarin, you know I've seen worse."
"Heh...right."
Spitfire took a seat on the sofa next to him, and both ponies looked at the ground rather than at each other.
She could do this.
"So...what's going on?" Soarin asked her, swinging his hind legs back and forth over the edge of the couch like a foal.
Where was she going to begin? She had to at least say something, because there would be an awkward silence soon if she didn't, and that was something better left avoided.
"uhh..I just wanted to drop in and say a few things..."
"Take your time, I'm in no rush to get anywhere."
"Alright." Spitfire sighed, also starting to kick her legs back and forth, "I'll start with this...did you really forgive me after you were let back onto the Cloudsdale team during the Tryouts? Because...if you're still upset, I want you to tell me,"
She had no idea what he was going to say, but her stomach was in knot anticipating his response.
Soarin looked at her, surprised by the question and sensitive tone in her voice. "Spitfire...of course I really forgave you. You seemed to have learned your lesson, so why hold a grudge, am I right?"
He nudged her, trying to get his fellow teammate to crack a smile with no avail.
"You can be honest, Soarin."
"I am being honest. While I was hurt when I found out from Rainbow Dash, I also had to remember that you weren't thinking straight...it was that time of the month." Soarin said.
"Excuse me?"
He flushed bright red."No, I meant the time of month when we get ready for the Equestria games!"
"Oh..duh."
"What I meant to say was that I knew you were going through some things, and I knew you were still upset with me from..uh..the night before. I had to keep in mind your emotions don't define who you are, and that you--the real you-- would never do something like that."
Spitfire suddenly felt a good degree more comfortable sitting next to him, but also more guilty. Soarin was so boundlessly empathetic, so amazing forgiving...she didn't deserve for somepony like that to be in love with her, regardless of whether she reciprocated the feelings or not. She turned to her friend.
"You're right that our emotions don't define us, Soarin. But how we treat our fellow ponies when we're experiencing them do, and...I never got to apologize to you. I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry," Soarin said, gently placing his hoof on top of hers, "I was wrong to bring up such a sensitive subject that night, and I...yeah...I hope you can just forget everything I said out there."
"Hey. It's all in the past now."
The two pegasi genuinely smiled at each other for the first time in three weeks, and Spitfire silently thanked the stars that she had finally listened to the voice inside her head. Now if only she had known it would be be this easy twenty days ago, or she would've came sooner. Though perhaps she needed the time to cool off and really see the big picture
This was definitely a friendship worth striving for.
Nonetheless, one question still hung in the air.
"Soarin," Spitfire said with a touch of uncertainty, "Can I ask you a question?"
"Ask away!" he chimed.
Spitfire shifted her weight and readjusted her tie. "After everything I did to you...after I've been so awful....do you still..uh..feel the same way you said you did before I left you that night?"
Of course she immediately regretted asking that, but Spitfire had been legitimately curious.
Soarin's face visibly turned a pink tinge at the unexpected question, and the unexpected timidness in the fearless leader (actually, she was kind of pretty when she wasn't screaming at everypony, but that was irrelevant). He tried to laugh again, managing to pull off a nervous giggle that was about as convincing as any of his other attempts.
"Oh, ah, no-- I mean yes-- I mean, you don't have to worry about that anymore, I wasn't being rational at the time--"
Spitfire cleared her throat to cut his potential rambling short. He obviously still had feelings for her (she wasn't clueless), but it was a bit of a sudden assault to ask him like that, and could've been interpreted as coming onto him.
"Okay, okay. Sorry. Do you mind if I ask you a separate but similar question?"
Soarin sighed, embarassed. "Yeah...go ahead."
Now it was Spitfire's turn to blush. "Um...even if you don't feel the same now, why did you love me?"
The stallion considered this, the pink tinge in his face fading as he stopped to think. He could give a million reasons, but he wasn't sure how to word them..or if he really had the nerve to say them in front of the mare herself. But if she really wanted to know....
"Well, you're...you're a inspiration to me.." he began, having to use the utmost willpower not to avoid eye contact, "I always thought that you were a stunning example of how dedication could lead you to achieving your dreams, seeing you never gave up even while thinking nobody cared...you can pick yourself up after you fall. You're strong, independent, and you leave an overwhelming desire to follow in your footsteps when you walk into someone's life..especially someone weak like me! That's why I joined the Wonderbolts. I thought I could learn to lead and motivate other ponies like you could. I thought I could be just like you! And I still feel the same way!"
It all seemed to come out at once.
Spitfire felt a rush of blood and adrenaline surge through her body, and cause her face to heat up from the sudden ignition of a spark inside her. There was no way, no how that there really could've been a pony in Equestria so incredibly...so incredibly good that he could possibly be giving her praise after she had proven time and time again that she was ireedeemably flawed. Was she going crazy?
She had been showered with blind adoration from thousands of ponies, made many young foals' say by simply giving them her autograph, and was practically worshipped by several stallions before-- but for some reason, hearing this from Soarin finally tamed a ravenous beast inside her head. The same beast, that like her dad, had told her she would never be good enough, that she would never be worth anything.
She was worth something Soarin, and he said it plain and clear.
That was all she needed.
She wasn't afraid of losing anymore.
"Soarin....thank you..." Spitfire said, wrapping him in a tight embrace and nestling her head under his chin.
She was being a total milksop right now, but it didn't matter since nopony else would find out.
Soarin raised his eyebrows, initially stunned at the sudden display of affection, and returned the embrace with a smile.
"Uh...you're welcome! Heheheh..."
It was the start of a new beginning.
