Thump. Thump.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Smack!
The gym in the east wing of the Canterlot Palace was mostly empty, safe for a single mare with an arctic blue coat and a snow white mane. This certain gym was reserved for the military personnel that served in and around the palace and usually occupied from dawn to dusk. Now, however, hours after the sun had set, these ponies had left one by one. That was good, because the fewer ponies were around, the fewer would see Fleetfoot in the state she was in right now.
Thump. Thump.
Again and again her hooves struck the punching bag in front of her. They let out all the energy—and the anger—she couldn’t vent anywhere else.
Thump. Thump.
Pow!
While her hooves met the old leather in a continuous barrage of jabs, uppercuts, and hooks, her mind began to drift. She couldn’t help but see Dash in front of her, a competitive grin on the slightly younger mare’s face.
What was she thinking when she got herself into all of this?
Smack! Smack! Thump!
She had known Dash for over a decade. They had been team members and friends for so long, Fleetfoot had lost herself in the idea that Dash would be any different once they got together.
More affectionate, for example.
Smack!
More fond of Fleetfoot’s attempts at building up a genuine bond that went deeper than a normal friendship.
Pow! Smack!
And maybe less of a boastful, competitive, loveless airhead!
Smack! Smack! Smack!
POW!
Fleetfoot froze when the bag suddenly yielded. She dazedly stared at her right hoof, which had penetrated fetlock-deep into the old punching bag. She slowly pulled it out, and a runlet of sand poured out of the damaged bag.
Damn you, Dash! she thought. This is all your fault.
“Congratulations. You gave it to him!”
She tensed up when she heard a voice behind her. Snapping around, she found herself facing an unknown pegasus stallion a mere two steps behind her. He had approached her in complete silence - or at least quiet enough that her abuse of the punching bag had drowned out his approach.
She mustered him. For some reason, he seemed vaguely familiar. His mane was two shades of blue, his coat a bright orange. Her eyes fell on his dark red training suit. It had two silvery stripes stitched to the shoulders, and below them, another emblem: a yellow shield with two crossed spears. He was an officer of the princesses’ personal guard unit. This had bad news written all over it.
Well... Crap.
“The kitmare is going to tar you at the first ray of sunlight if she finds out,” he commented with a look at the broken bag.
“I-I’m sorry, Sir. I-”
He smiled. “But from the looks of it, the bag was ready to retire anyway. At least now we’re getting a new one.”
She blinked, slowly processing what he had said. Apparently she’d not get her ass torn open for breaking gym equipment. That was at least some silver lining to this bucker of a day.
“So… what did the poor bag do to deserve its fate?”
“Excuse me, Sir?”
“I mean, you bashed it up like it owed you money. Any reason for that?”
Fleetfoot hesitated. “Stressful day, Sir.” This was definitely not a conversation she wanted to have with a superior officer, no matter whether he was a member of a different branch or not.
“I see…” He paused for a moment. “You still look tense.”
“Possible, Sir.”
“Flash.”
She froze. “... Excuse me?”
“Flash, not Sir. I’m off duty.” He smiled and offered his hoof. “And you’re Fleetfoot, right?”
She hesitantly took the hoof and nodded. “How do you know my name?”
“Well, it’s not hard to know a Wonderbolt by name. I was born in Cloudsdale myself. In college it was hard to walk down a single corridor without running across a poster of you guys. By the way, that was a nice show this afternoon.”
“Yeah, guess so. Thanks.”
Fleetfoot wasn’t really sure where the cap- Flash was taking the conversation, until he unzipped his gym bag and pulled out a mouth piece and a pair of boxing gloves. “You want to spar?”
She frowned. “What? You’re sure about this?”
“It always helps me when I have something on my mind. I can tell that you have, but I won’t keep poking questions since you apparently don’t want to answer them. However, I can at least offer my help in distracting you a bit. So, you want to spar a round or two?”
“I’m… not sure.”
Flash gave her an encouraging smile. “As I said, I’m off duty. Whenever else are you going to get a chance to beat up a superior officer?”
She shrugged. Probably never. She mustered him for a moment. He didn’t look like much, probably cruiserweight just like Soarin. Fleetfoot herself was only middleweight, but she had spared with heavier opponents in the past. “Alright, why not?” She walked over to her bag, put her gloves on and her mouth piece in and positioned herself in front of Flash.
His first feint came without any hesitation. She lightly blocked it, then went for a feint herself, followed by a quick jab. They were testing each other out for some time, both trying to estimate what they were dealing with. His blocks came fast, his defenses fluently turned into feints and jabs whenever Fleetfoot least expected them. He was certainly living up to his name.
Just when she lunged out a bit too slowly, he suddenly moved forward. In addition to being fast, he had far more strength than she had expected. She was barely able to block and dodge the series of jabs and hooks he unleashed on her.
Instead of pushing the advantage though, he retreated after his quick barrage of strikes had forced her to evade several steps backwards. He gave her a moment to recover, then got back into his rhythm of one or two feints followed by a side step in order to circle around her.
If his agility and power were his strengths, then his predictability was his weakness. It didn’t take Fleetfoot long to notice a pattern. The next time Flash pulled a feint, she countered before he could evade, misdirecting him and landing her first strike with a shovel hook to his side.
It felt like striking against concrete, and he didn’t back down a single step.
“I hope you’re not going easy on me because of the stripes on my shoulder,” he muttered through his mouth piece, while Fleetfoot increased the distance between them again.
Instead of responding, she now doubled her efforts, her restraint fading more and more with every hit she landed. Flash barely bothered to bob, mostly relying on his strength to simply block her strikes.
In her eyes it wasn’t the best strategy, but not a bad one, either. This way she was using up just as much energy as he did, only that he probably had the endurance to outlast her if the fight would go on much longer.
After her third hit her assumption was proven right. She had become a bit slower after her initial energy had been used up. It was now that he suddenly dashed forward, landing first one, then another hit against her upper body. The hits weren’t as strong as she had expected, though. Something told her that he was going easy on her despite his own earlier remark.
Seeing his third hit coming early enough, she slipped inside of his right hook. She directed his hoof away from her face and struck against his side with her rear hoof. This time, she put all her force into the shovel hook. Though she struck against significant resistance, he nonetheless staggered a full step back.
She could see it in his face. It. Was. On.
For the next few minutes, they exchanged an equal amount of jabs and hooks, most of which were blocked or struck only air, until Fleetfoot’s forelegs grew heavy. Her strikes were coming slower now, while Flash seemed to be a powerhouse of unlimited stamina.
She barely saw his next hook coming. There was no time to bob. Out of reflex, she raised her forelegs to protect her head. His hook hit her with full force, and she was thrown off her hooves by the impact.
With a loud thud, she landed on the rough workout mats of the gym.
“Shit, you’re alright?” Flash hurried over to her and removed his gloves to help her up.
She stayed on the ground for a moment, waiting for the stars in her vision to disappear before she took his hoof. “Yeah yeah, I’m fine,” she said while being lifted up by him. It wasn’t entirely true. Though she had blocked a significant part of his strike, her head was still ringing like she had flown face-first into a wall. She didn’t want him to worry, though, since she basically had it coming by taking on a far stronger opponent.
“Good.” He gave her a smirk. “Cadance would have my ass if I broke a Wonderbolt.”
“Cadance?” She stared at him in disbelief. “You’re on a first-name basis with the princesses?”
Her shook his head. “Nah, just with her. I served for years under Shining Armor before they got married, so I knew her long before I was assigned as part of her personal guard.”
It took Fleetfoot a moment to digest that. For her, the royals had always seemed far out of reach. It felt almost surreal meeting somepony who was personal friends with one of them. Not even Dash or Spitfire were that close to the Royal Sisters or Princess Cadance, and those two were arguably far higher up the food chain than Fleetfoot.
“You’re sure you’re alright?” he asked after a moment.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” She moved her shoulders in circles, then relieved herself of her boxing gloves and dropped back on all fours. “Though I think I’ve had enough training for today.”
Flash nodded. “That’s fine for me. It was one hell of a fight.”
She rolled her eyes. “C’mon, You basically curb-stomped me there.”
He packed away his equipment and shouldered his training bag. “You’re giving yourself too little credit. I’m a guy, heavier than you and on top of that a trained guard. And it still took me minutes to land the first real hit. You put up a really good fight, and what you lacked in strength you made up for in technique.”
Fleetfoot quietly stared at him. This was the complete opposite of how her flight trainings with Dash went. Dash would usually outrace her and then go on to rub it into her face for the rest of the day - or longer, when Dash felt like it.
This was a surprising change from what she was used to. A very welcome one, in fact.
It dawned on her now that, during the entire session, she hadn’t thought about Dash even once.
“Alright,” Flash interrupted her thoughts. “I’m going to hit the showers, then pay Lance’s Landing a visit.” He paused for a moment. “You know, you’re welcome to join if your duties allow for it. I’d love to get to know you a bit more. Outside of you bruising my ribs, that is,” he added with a chuckle.
Fleetfoot thought about the famous—or infamous, depending on who you’d ask—bar in the basement of the palace. Though civilians were technically allowed there, Lance’s Landing catered specifically to the military personnel that served in and around the palace, and its clientele was made up almost entirely of soldiers.
She had heard a ton of stories about it, but hadn’t been there herself. The Wonderbolts never spent much time in a city after the flight show was over, thus her schedule had never really allowed for such explorations. It wasn’t much different this time, they’d leave Canterlot early in the morning. Fleetfoot had a long and exhausting day behind her, and given she was anything but an early bird, she really should get some rest.
Her curiosity, however—as well as her desire to spent a bit more time with Flash—got the better of her. She found herself answering his question without much thought. “Alright, I’m game. I’ll find myself a shower and meet you there.”
He gave her a cheerful smile that, just maybe, was a bit more delighted than she had expected. “Cool! See you in a bit!”
He headed out, leaving Fleetfoot to quickly pack her gear up. She was still wondering why she had so quickly agreed to his offer while she rushed into the west wing of the palace. As soon as she was in her room she slammed her training bag into a corner and hurried into a shower. Once done she was about to rush out again, but she decided to make a stop in front of the bathroom mirror first.
She wasn’t a mare that usually wore—or even owned—a lot of makeup, but right now she felt surprisingly plain as she mustered her reflection. After nervously pondering over her few options, the solution struck her as rather obvious. Lance’s Landing was a military bar. Wearing a uniform there wouldn’t be uncommon, and besides her flight suit she luckily had brought hers with her.
She took it out of her travelling bag she otherwise hadn’t touched since their arrival yesterday. The Wonderbolt uniforms were kept in a dark blue similar to those of the navy. Instead of an anchor, though, they had their signature lightning insignia on the chest and were completed by light blue kepis instead white ones.
She spent another few minutes smoothing out creases the blouse had gotten while asking herself why she was so damn nervous, before eventually putting it on. A last look in the mirror confirmed that her looks were at least acceptable. She collected her breath and gave her reflection an encouraging nod, before finally heading out.
It didn’t take her long to reach the basement, but that was about as far as she got. Either their little flight show had attracted a lot of ponies to the palace, or this was simply the bar’s normal amount of visitors. Fleetfoot had no way of telling. She certainly couldn’t say how full the bar itself was, since the line for the bar went through the whole corridor all the way to the end of the staircase where she stood.
“Well, ain’t that great…” she grumbled. Flash was probably already inside, wondering what was taking her so long.
She thought about a faster way in. She could try and play her VIP card, but in Canterlot even a Wonderbolt could only get so far. In Cloudsdale her uniform opened her every door, but here in the palace only officers like Spitfire and Soarin could make demands and get through with it. Fleetfoot was a simple noncom, which held little value in a bar that was commonly visited by captains and higher ranks.
“Fleetfoot! Over here!” a voice called out for her. She looked past the line of ponies and found Flash standing next to the bouncer, waving her over. She didn’t need to think twice. Leaving all the other ponies behind, she quickly walked over to him.
He gave her a cheerful grin before turning towards the bouncer. “She’s with me, Sarge.”
The bulky unicorn stallion simply nodded before lifting the velvet ribbon in front of the door. They slipped through and found themselves in a long and dim corridor from which's end Fleetfoot could hear booming music.
“You look great!” Flash remarked while they walked closer to the source of the ground-shaking basses.
She let her look wander over his uniform. The color scheme was similar to his training suit, though it had far more decorations and glamour to it. “Thanks! You t-” Her words died in her mouth when she spotted the medal on his chest.
“Sweet Celestia! Is that a MOH?” she asked.
He looked down at the small attachment. The Equestrian Medal of Honor was a golden five-pointed star, each point tipped with trefoils, below a blue ribbon with small white stars.
He slightly cringed at her observation. “It’s from the changeling invasion eight years ago… Let’s say it was an interesting week for me. I think others deserved it more.” He shrugged. “For all I know, you guys did far more to keep Canterlot safe than I, but here I am.” After a moment, he quietly added: “Shining insisted on it.”
Fleetfoot wasn’t blind to his reaction. He looked almost embarrassed by his own achievement, and for a moment she thought about digging deeper and finding out why. Part of her, however, decided to drop the topic instead. He had respected it during their training that she didn’t want to talk about her issues, it was just fair not to question him about his.
Lucky for her, they just now arrived at the end of the corridor. A heavy door coated with red fleece separated them from the bar. Fleetfoot put her hoof on the doorknob, and the vibration of the bass rattled through her leg.
This was going to be… interesting.
The moment she pulled the door open, the volume of the music doubled and female vocals she hadn’t noticed before joined in. It was a husky voice that was almost drowned out by the chatter of at least a hundred ponies. Fleetfoot made one step forward and was immediately enwrapped by the crowd. She looked around and felt pretty much lost, but Flash simply took her hoof and lead her through the cluster of partying ponies.
He plowed through the crowd with determination and authority in every step, and other ponies hurried to make way for him. Only when they had reached the end of the room did he slow down again. Turning towards her, he offered her a seat at the far end of the bar counter. Back here, the volume was much more bearable, given the small stage with the DJ and the speakers was at the opposite end of the room.
He sat down next to her and waved the bar pony over. She was a yellow coated earth pony mare who had dyed her flattop mane in just about every existing shade of neon. “Hey Flash! What can I bring you guys?”
“Hey Candy! I’ll take a ‘Liquid Lightning’. And for you?”
He looked at her, but Fleetfoot just shrugged. She didn’t know the place, after all, but doubted it would serve anything below thirty proof.
After thinking over it for a moment, Flash turned back to the bartender with a mischievous grin. “One ‘Nightmare Night’ for our Wonderbolt, please.”
Fleetfoot’s only reaction was to raise an eyebrow.
“You’re going to like that one, I promise!” he said, before confidently leaning back in his bar stool.
“So... “ he opened up after a moment, before adjusting his volume. The DJ had changed the song, and Fleetfoot actually had to lean forward to understand Flash through the beats and fast rapping vocals of the new song. “How long do you train for a show like today?”
She shrugged. “Depends. Today we did two new maneuvers. Those we practiced for around two weeks. But usually we just combine old tricks in a new order, which means we only need a day or two until everyone gets the new order right.”
While Candy placed their drinks next to them, Fleetfoot let her look wander over Flash. “Did you ever go to our tryouts? You look like Wonderbolt material to me.”
He smiled at her, before taking a his drink off the counter. “Thanks, but I’m actually happy with my job as it is.” He played with the straw in his drink. “Ten years ago, before I became part of Cadance’s guard, I would probably have said ‘yes’ right away. But now, I’m quite happy with how everything turned out.”
Fleetfoot thought about his answer, while also curiously eying the colorful something Candy had placed in front of her. Flash’s drink was easy to identify: black vodka, lemon juice, and cream. It swirled through his glass like an actual thunderstorm whenever he stirred. Hers, however, was quite different. The bottom half was a medium blue liquid, probably Blue Curaçao or something similar. The top half, meanwhile, was a dark purple liquid that had a strange sparkling effect to it, like it contained actual glitter or something of the sorts.
She stirred, and the two liquids began to mix. The first thing Fleetfoot had to think of were descriptions of Nightmare Moon’s waving dark mane, which probably explained the name. “Right, I guess you have a pretty sweet position there. You’re the captain of her guard, it would be hard for you to rise any higher in rank.”
“Not within the Royal Guard, no,” he confirmed. “The ranks traditionally end at ‘Captain of the Guard’. If I’d want to get up any higher, I’d have to switch to the Equestrian Army.” He chuckled, before turning around. He made sure Candy was at the other end of the counter and thus far out of hearing range, before he continued. “Don’t ever let her know I said this, but… do you know what happens to a private in the Royal Guard when he fails his annual physical fitness test with less than thirty percent?”
Fleetfoot shrugged.
“He’s immediately turned over to the Army and promoted to Major General.”
Fleetfoot almost spit out her drink. She had known there were some rivalries between Army and Royal Guard, but she hadn’t expected such… creativity. “Good one,” she remarked after she had calmed down.
Flash chuckled, before lifting up his drink. “To the Armed Forces… no matter the branch.”
Fleetfoot lifted her drink as well and slightly tipped her glas against his. “To the Armed Forces,” she repeated, before knocking her glass on the counter two times. To her surprise, Flash hadn’t only done the same in perfect sync, he had also been a bit faster. Apparently the Guards knew this drinking game, too.
“Looks like the first round’s on me,” she said, before taking a first small sip.
Her lips basically melted around the straw the moment she tasted the drink. It was sweet, like maracuya juice, but also had a hint of other fruits to it. In addition, it was strong, while still going down without even a hint of a burning sensation. “Daaamn,” was all she managed to say.
He smirked. “I knew you’d like it,” he said between two sips. “Echo drinks it all the time, and if she likes it, it has to be good.”
“Echo?” Fleetfoot wondered, while taking a much larger sip.
“She’s the Captain of Princess Luna’s guard. A batpony. See, they usually don’t drink alcohol, they can’t really digest it. So, any drink that’s worth a three day long hangover has to be one hell of a good one.”
Fleetfoot couldn’t argue with that logic. She took in sip after sip of the exotic drink that caressed every one of her taste buds. She was just thinking about a new topic for their conversation when her straw suddenly delivered nothing but air. She looked down into her glass, where the straw produced a gurgling sound in the tiny puddle that remained of her drink.
“That was… fast,” Flash commented with a stunned look on his face.
“It’s... really good,” Fleetfoot said with an apologetic expression.
As if summoned by the sound of the empty glass, Candy showed up next to them. “Looks like you liked it. Want another one?”
As much as Fleetfoot was tempted to say ‘yes’, she didn’t want to spend the whole night drinking the same drink. “It was really good, but I’d like to try something else, too. Any ideas?”
Candy and Flash exchanged a number of looks. “Horseshoe Bay?” was her first suggestion.
“Black Pearl?” was his counter proposal.
She shook her head. “Moonlight Deluxe?”
“Nah…Dragon’s Breath?”
Suddenly, the expressions of both lit up at the same time. “Planter’s Punch!” they exclaimed in almost perfect unison.
“I think you’re here too often,” Fleetfoot commented on the play that had just happened in front of her.
“He’s not here often enough, honey,” Candy replied with a smile and a wink, before heading over to her storage shelf.
“And make me a Black Pearl, please!” Flash called over to her before she was out of hearing range.
Fleetfoot followed Candy with a raised eyebrow. “Honey?” she wondered in a low voice.
“Don’t take it personally,” Flash said, before emptying the rest of his drink. “Candy would bang everything with a pulse if she had the chance.”
“... oh,” was all Fleetfoot could answer to that. For a minute or two, there was just the music to fill the silence between them.
“Hey, I know that song!” she suddenly exclaimed. She started to wiggle around on her chair, while humming along with the melody. “The witching hour crashes in and all the monsters walk about,” she hummed.
“Aurelleah, right?” he asked, after listening to it for a moment.
Before Fleetfoot could respond, Candy placed their new drinks in front of them. She was definitely fast. “Together with Kadenza, aye. Didn’t think you’d know them - looks like you’re not completely hopeless after all.”
Fleetfoot gave her a curious look.
“He doesn’t know a single modern artist,” Candy explained. “There was a concert in the castle’s courtyard once. We went there, and after reading the poster, he in all honesty asked who Countess Coloratura was.”
Flash blushed. “I took it from her face-hoof that I should have known… but to be fair, that was fifteen years ago, and back then she hadn’t been that popular.”
“It was twelve years ago. We were both 2nd Lieutenants at the time, and you’re still a featherbrain,” Candy argued, while preparing a neat vodka for herself.
“That’s how you two met?” Fleetfoot asked.
“Damn right,” Candy answered. “We were both wet-behind-our-ears good-for-nothing second LTs. Only difference are the branches we chose. I decided to work for my money, while Flash is just being paid for his good looks.”
“That’s not… entirely true,” he commented, while slowly stirring his drink. “I mean, the… presentation value of a royal guard has some importance to it, but ninety percent of the assignment decision is based on the physical results and theory exams.”
“Hold on a minute.” Fleetfoot raised a hoof. “So you’re actually saying ten percent of the decision is based on your looks?”
Candy chuckled. “Did you honestly never wonder why Sunbutt’s detachment is made up entirely of stallions? Tall, good-looking ones, for that matter?”
“I thought it had something to do with the body height being practical to oversee crowds. And guys usually have a greater stamina, so…” Fleetfoot rambled.
Candy shook her head. “For all I know, it wasn’t her idea, and the new royals all have mixed units assigned to them, but the Solar Division stuck to the tradition. But hey, that way we always have the best-looking guys walking around in the palace, ain’t that right?”
Fleetfoot couldn’t help but grin. She’d definitely see the solar guards in a different light the next time she came past the palace.
“On traditions, and the eye-candy they provide!” Candy said, while touching glasses with them.
Flash was visibly embarrassed by her statement. He still touched glasses with them, but was a fair bit slower than before. Candy slammed her glass on the counter so quickly Fleetfoot feared either it or the wood would shatter. She followed shortly after. Flash lost that round.
“Well, thanks for the drink!” Candy remarked after chugging the contents of her glass down. She left them to take care of other guests at the counter, and it was only now Flash woke up from his frozen stare.
“Hey, wait a moment, you’re not even paying here!” he called after her.
Candy spun around on the spot and threw him a kiss. “I know, but you are! I’ll see it as a gracious tip!” She then focused her attention on the other guests.
“Damn that mare,” Flash mumbled.
“Is she... always like that?” Fleetfoot wondered.
Flash shrugged while sipping on his drink. “Pretty much. You’ve gotta love her or you’re gonna hate her, there’s no middle ground with a mare like that.”
Fleetfoot blinked. Though Flash had no idea why Fleetfoot had been so agitated earlier, this statement hit home like an ice arrow to her chest. The words repeated in her head, and she saw Dash’s grinning face in front of her. Love her or hate her, there is no middle ground.
She stared into the bright orange of her drink. So, what will it be? she asked herself, before letting out a long breath.
“You’re alright?” Flash asked.
Fleetfoot shrugged. She sipped on her drink. It wasn’t bad, but not as good as the one before. Orange, maracuya, and a hint of coconut. She slowly stirred the drink and would probably have continued like that for the rest of the night if Flash wouldn't have interrupted her thoughts.
“You know…” he remarked, more talking to his drink than to her, “I said I won’t be poking questions, but if you want to talk about whatever is on your mind… I’m all ears, and I’ll keep it between us.”
That made her look up. A part of her didn’t want to talk about it. As long as she’d keep it silent, it was her problem and only hers.
Another part of her, however, felt very much like it was time to spill the beans. A part that had been swallowing down her frustration, disappointment and anger for weeks now. Maybe it was because of the mixture of tequila, vodka and rum she had enjoyed so far. Or maybe it was just her desire to finally talk about it with someone.
“I… have this friend,” Fleetfoot finally opened up. “She’s a teammate. No names,” she hastily added after a moment. Flash nodded in agreement. “We’ve been friends for... some time now. At first, we got along great. I really felt connected to her. We had the same interests and hobbies… Even our parents are equally crazy, can you imagine? But as of late…”
She paused. “It’s not as it used to be. The more time I spent with her, the more I…” She sighed. “Maybe I’m just being negative here, but that girl has some serious screws loose.”
Fleetfoot took a large sip from a drink. “No, wait, lemme rephrase that,” she threw in before Flash could say anything about it. “She doesn’t have a screw loose, she just loves going from a nice teammate to a complete bitch in a matter of seconds. And I-” She stopped herself.
And I fell for her, she thought. That, however, was a detail she was not going to share with Flash. “We had a nice time as friends, but the more of her I get to see outside of training hours, the more I wonder how anypony could ever put up with her. She’s arrogant, and smug, and cocky about her success…”
“Is she better than you?” Flash asked. “In terms of flying, I mean?”
Following that question, Fleetfoot stared into her drink, before downing the rest of it in one sip. She then waved Candy over. “By a margin,” she admitted.
“Aye, what I can I bring you next?” Candy asked.
Before Flash could open his mouth, Fleetfoot already ordered. She had a pretty clear imagination of what she needed right now. “A Whisky, please. Neat, double, and blended malt, if you have.”
Candy nodded. “Can do!”
While she reached out for the top shelf behind her and brought forth an old, half-empty bottle with a wax sealed cap, Flash leaned himself on the counter. “Sounds stressful, having someone who means something to you acting in such a way.”
“You have no idea,” Fleetfoot huffed. “I don’t have a problem with others being better… If only she could just keep her mouth shut about it. I trained for years for this, I can’t take this constant rivalry.”
Candy came back with a half full nosing glass which she placed in front of Fleetfoot. The liquid inside was light copper colored. While Candy sealed the bottle again with wax from a nearby candle, Fleetfoot lifted the glass up. She swirled the spirit around, then took a first smell. Smoky, with a strong note of malt, but not much more.
“Was she always like that?” Flash asked.
Fleetfoot shook her head. Then shrugged. She continued to swirl the spirit around in the glass. “I’m not sure. I think she was, but I never noticed it much before.” She took another smell. Now more satisfied with the result, she took a first sip. Other flavors joined. Maple wood. Spices. A hint of honey in the finish. This was a far too fine spirit to chug down. She took another slow sip. “I think the closer we got, the more… personal?… she got. Before, she was just boasting herself as the best of the team, but now, I’ve turned into her standard of comparison, and that just sucks.”
Flash hesitated for a moment. “Have you ever… you know, told her that? Just letting her know how she’s hurting you with her competitiveness?”
Fleetfoot was quiet for a moment. “Shouldn’t she notice? If she’s really my friend?” Fleetfoot took the last sip from her glass before turning towards Flash. “Friends shouldn’t be blind to each others feelings, especially if they’re the cause for it.”
Now it was Flash’s turn to stay quiet for a bit. Eventually, he waved Candy over again. “Double rum, will ya? Something fine, if you have.”
Candy raised an eyebrow. “Will a twelve year old Prench Colonial be fine enough for the dear Sir?”
“Aye, Candy, it will. Thanks,” he said with a chuckle, before turning back towards Fleetfoot. He got serious again. “You should tell her and see her reaction. Some ponies… are not good at sensing such things. It’s not a nice trait, I know, but I’m sure she didn’t mean to hurt you. If you two sit down together, you can probably talk things out.
“If she even wants to talk about it. She hasn’t invested much effort into this… friendship.” Fleetfoot had to stop herself there before calling the relationship what it was.
While Candy delivered his new drink, Fleetfoot pointed towards her glass. Candy all too willingly supplied her with a refill. “Cheers,” Fleetfoot said while touching glasses. There was no toast this time, and no drinking game. The alcohol was slowly doing its work. Her nostrils were going a bit numb, as were her wingtips. She had no idea why it happened in this order - she only knew that those were the first signs of her getting drunk.
Flash, meanwhile, just hummed. “That bad? I mean, she surely must appreciate your company, or else she wouldn’t be spending her time with you.”
“Yeah, maybe, but all the effort is coming from my end.” Being oblivious to her earlier assessment of the whisky’s quality, she emptied the entire nosing glass in a single gulp. “You know, I wish that just once the initiative came from her! Just once I want her to show that this means something to her, too.” Fleetfoot lifted the glass up and waved Candy over with it.
“You’re sure you can take another refill?” Candy asked, carefully.
Fleetfoot just stared at her. “We had shows in G-griffonstone and Yakyakistan. Have you ever d-drunken Yak-made moonshine, honey?” Fleetfoot asked with just a hint of hostility in her voice. “I can take another shot.”
Candy raised her eyebrow. She filled Fleetfoot’s glass up again, but then looked over to Flash. “Keep an eye on her, Flash. If she spills her breakfast on the floor, you can stay to clean it up.”
Flash rolled his eyes. “Aye, thanks for the warning.” He then turned back to Fleetfoot. “I’m thinking… Maybe you should just end it.”
This made her look up.
“I hate to give such an advice, but if that teammate doesn't value your friendship as much as you do, then maybe you should reconsider your position.” He took a generous sip from his rum. “I mean, taken from how you feel about this, this shouldn't be going on any longer. You should consider either option, confronting her or letting go, but the current middle ground is grinding at you too much, I can see that.”
“But… but…” Fleetfoot stuttered. “But I don’t wanna lose her.”
Flash made a grimace. “Aye, that’s the painful part about it.” He then surprised her by wrapping his wing around her. “But I’ve had enough cases of recruits who didn’t fit into the unit at first. Some had wrong imaginations of what the guard was. They were great guard material, but lazy. Or some big headed freeloaders who were having a good time at the cost of the unit’s budget. I always sat down with them, having an honest talk with every single one. Some actually changed, and now they’re a close-knit part of the team. Some... didn’t. Those who stuck to their ways had to leave.”
He paused for a moment. “In either case, after the solution was found, everypony was off better. This is the best advice I can give you. That, or you’ll have to carry on as you do now, bottling up that frustration and disappointment until it eats you up… Or until you snap one day and say something you’ll regret.”
Fleetfoot slowly nodded, before sheepishly smiling at him. “Your unit can be lucky to have you. You… you’re a good guy, Flash.”
“I guess so.” After a pause, he added: “I hope so.”
Fleetfoot’s eyes felt shut. “A… r-rreally good guy…” she mumbled.
Flash chuckled. “Aye. And you’re batshit drunk.” There was some shrugging underneath his wing. He sat himself straight up, fought against some stars in his vision, then called Candy over. “The bill please. I’ll cover for her.”
“Nahyoudon’t,” came some more mumbling from underneath his wing.
“ID number?” Candy asked, ignoring Fleetfoot. She by now rested on the counter, with her head buried in her forelegs.
“Four nine six four four three,” Flash recited. Since the bar was officially entertained by the Equestrian Office of Armed Forces—in other words, his boss—they’d subtract the bill right from his next paycheck. It saved him the troubles of carrying cash with him as long as he dined in any government building.
“Alright, have a nice evening,” Candy said, while putting away her notepad.
Flash meanwhile slid closer to Fleetfoot. He carefully lifted her chin up with his wing. Again, she just smiled sheepishly at him with closed eyes. “Are you good to go?” he asked.
When there was no reaction after a moment, he got up from his bar stool, put his wing around her and a leg under her, and helped her up.
“I- I- I can walk…” she assured, before putting one foreleg before the next in an X-formation.
“C’mon, just follow me,” he said, not letting go of his hold around her. He carefully guided her out of the bar and up the staircase until he reached the central corridor in the main floor. This opened up a question he was admittedly not prepared for. “Hey… which one is your room number?”
“Mah whuut?”
“Your. Room. Number. Where are you guys staying during the show? Which wing?”
Silence.
Crap, he thought.
“Alright, I’m taking you to my quarters. Guess I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.”
Flash supported her on the way up the stairs, until they had reached the east wing’s third floor. His room was in the same wing where Cadance and Shining Armor were staying, which meant he was about to face a completely new problem.
So far, almost nopony had seen the two of them since they had left the bar. That, however, was about to change. His unit went wherever the royal couple went, which meant that all their bedrooms were on the same floor. The fact that his had been decided by him—back then, for obvious tactical reasons—was a cruel stab of irony, because he was about to run into the squad of guards that was on patrol duty by his very orders.
At least they were doing their job right. That, however, didn’t help against the judgmental looks they gave him once he exited the staircase. The almost unconscious Fleetfoot was tucked away under his wing and babbled drunken nonsense into his ear, while he was well aware that they both probably smelled like booze from half a mile away.
“N’evening, Captain.”
“Good evening, Sir.”
“As you were, soldiers!” He nodded at them. He did his best to ignore their looks as he walked past them with stiff steps. It was not that he had a problem with carrying a comrade through half the building. However, he knew what those guys were thinking. His jaw clenched. He knew exactly who’d be the talk of the night.
Flash Sentry, Captain of the Crystal Guard and one of Shining Armor’s most entrusted officers, seen by four noncoms as he carried a drunken mare into his room at two o’clock in the night. The implications were obvious, which was the reason his muzzle was burning red under his fur while he reached out for his door knob. He couldn’t wait to get out of their sight.
That was when he heard a whisper behind him. “Geez, have you seen that girl? That’s close to necrophilia.” Some chuckles followed, this time from the entire group.
Flash hoof froze an inch before reaching the door knob. The voice had been low, but not low enough for him to miss. His head slowly spun around like gun turret, fixing the group in his sight. Everypony had his limit, and this was Flash’s.
They continued to walk away from him as if nothing had happened, though one of them did so quite more hurriedly than before. The suspect turned his head around. The moment their eyes locked, his face went pale.
“Corporal Thunder.” Flash’s voice hadn’t been particularly raised or anything, but it nonetheless carried a decade of authority with it. The unit slowly came to a halt.
“A- aye, Sir?” the addressed responded. Even from a distance, Flash could see the Corporal’s ear nervously twitching. The first drops of sweat were forming on his forehead.
Flash thought about the options he had. The Corporal’s statement bordered on insubordination. However, officially reporting him would only make things worse for both of them. Luckily, there was another option. Flash didn’t use non-judicial punishment often, but right now, it felt quite appropriate. “When we’re back in the Empire, you’re going to report to Chief Sergeant Crystal Dawn. You’re going to ask him for a bucket, some soap, and a toothbrush.” He made a break. “The palace’s stairway could have long since used some polishing, don’t you think?” he asked with a dangerously nice voice.
At the mere thought of the spiral stairway that ran all the way through the forty-five floor tall building, the Corporal turned as pale as the marble columns behind him. When he didn’t answer right away, Flash raised an eyebrow. “That, or in the morning we’ll have a talk with the General about your remark…”
“P-polishing. Aye, Sir!” the Corporal eagerly threw in. Flash nodded. As he thought, anything was better than explaining that remark to your General.
“Dismissed!”
The soldier saluted, then turned away, a broken look on his face. Flash was well aware he had just ruined that guy’s entire week, but with a barely responsive Wonderbolt next to him, he had other things to worry about.
It was only after he had reached his room and locked the door behind them that he felt some sort of relief. He slowly escorted Fleetfoot to his bed, where she fell onto the mattress like a dead pony. Only her slow breaths assured him that she was not.
Flash huffed. Fleetfoot was a nice girl and all, and he loved to help, but this wasn’t how he had intended the evening to end. He walked to his desk, emptied the paper bin into a corner and placed it next to the bed. “Hey, Fleets… in case you’ve gotta get rid of some cocktails… there’s a bucket.”
She hummed. Then actually opened an eye and looked at him. “F-Flash? T-thanks for t’evening,” she mumbled. “‘ts been r’lly… r’lly nice n all.”
“It’s okay. Get some rest.”
“Where’ll… you sleep?”
“On the couch.”
Apparently, she was still more awake then he had expected, because with her next mumble she stated the obvious. “Th’rs no couch ‘ere…”
Flash looked around. The palace’s guest rooms were generally divided into three groups: royalty, nobility and, well, foot soldiers. As an officer, he had gotten a middle class room, which was why he had a desk, his own bathroom, and a few more square meters than the noncoms of his unit. A couch, however, was indeed not part of the room’s equipment.
Flash felt himself sinking down, leaning with his back against the side of the bed. “It’s alright, I’ll be fine.” After all, he was used to far worse from his guard training. The room was warm, the carpet soft - it would do for a night.
“‘ts not fine,” Fleetfoot mumbled, while sluggishly lifting herself up. “I can’t let you sleep on the ground,” she pressed forth with surprising persistence. Suddenly, Flash felt an arctic blue wing brush against his side. “C’mon… I’ll move aside.”
Flash took a deep breath in. This was not what he had intended, either. However, he couldn’t deny that a blanket would be nice. When she continued to poke him with her wingtips, he huffed, before eventually giving in and joining her under the blanket.
He lay down as far away from her as the small bed allowed. Out of professionalism. Out of his wish to avoid any further awkwardness. An just in case, should an emergency occur where one of the lower ranks burst into his room, because otherwise Flash would have to hide the body of that poor noncom in the forest to destroy all evidence of this ever happening.
Soon he found Fleetfoot being completely still, safe for a slow rising and sinking of her chest. It didn’t take long until sleep overcame him, too.
Fleetfoot woke up to red rays of the morning sunlight piercing into her eyes and the lapping of a shower somewhere in the distance. She turned away from the window, wondering why she hadn’t closed the curtains.
After an absent-minded look around, she noticed several more differences: her room was significantly larger than she remembered it to be. There was a set of polished golden armor hanging on a ponyquin in the corner. And the lapping of water came from the bathroom next door.
Slowly, fragments of the night before fought their way into her consciousness. Lance’s Landing, the drinks, her conversation about Rainbow Dash, and…
Flash!
She rose up in the bed like bitten by a timberwolf. She was in the bed of Flash-fucking-Sentry!
Royal Guard Captain Flash Sentry. By Celestia, whatever bad decision making had lead her here? Whatever had she thought while getting pass out drunk in front of him?
And why was she in his bed of all places?
“Morning!”
Her head snapped around - something her lingering headache instantly made her regret. “M-morning… Captain.”
Flash laughed. “Back to factory settings, I see? It’s still Flash, at least until I put that armor on and leave this room. Which-” he looked at the wall clock “-still won’t happen in the next few hours.”
He grabbed a bottle of water from his desk and threw it onto the sheets next to her. “There, that’ll help against the headache.”
“Some aspirin would be nice,” she mumbled, before slowly emptying the small bottle anyway.
“Sorry, don’t have any. Did you sleep well?” he asked, while sitting down on his desk chair.
“Can’t remember much from yesterday evening on, but I think so.” She yawned. “How long have you been up already?”
“An hour or so. Did some paperwork, I didn’t want to wake you up with the shower too early.”
She hesitated. “Thanks. That’s… awfully considerate of you, given I’m in your room and all…”
He shrugged. “I brought you here since you weren’t able to tell me your room number, and I wasn’t quite looking forward to asking the castle’s quartermaster first.”
“Yeah… thanks for that. I also prefer the others not seeing me like this. Especially…” Especially Dash.
“That one teammate of yours, huh?”
She blinked. How much had she told him? She certainly didn’t remember, but he had said ‘teammate’, not ‘marefriend’, so at least some secrets had been kept. “Yeah. So… about that…”
“I told you I’ll keep it between us, and I stick to what I say.”
“Yeah, thanks. I guess I was venting a lot there. Sorry for that, and… thanks for listening.”
“Of course. Do you remember the advice I gave you?”
“I… think so. You said something about getting straight with her about how she’s been acting?”
“Aye, pretty much. Most problems are caused by bad communication. I guess I can’t do much more at this point than to wish you good luck.”
“Thanks. I wish…” I wish she was as much of a friend as you.
He sat down next to her and put his foreleg around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. One way or another, you’ll manage. Change can be a frightening thing, but in the end, it will have been worth it.”
Fleetfoot slowly nodded. This was something she’d have to address once they were back in the headquarters. Once she was back in her daily rut and had the mind for such things.
It was now that she slowly realized how much fun she had last night. Whether or not she remembered what they had done and talked about, she remembered the feelings. Flash was kind, gentle, modest, and generally fun to be around. Fleetfoot couldn’t remember when she had last time felt that relaxed. Her head ached, her muscles felt stiff, and from what she could tell her mane and feathers were a total mess. However, if she had the choice, she’d spend the next night just like the last one.
Sans a few shots, maybe.
She thought back to the night before. How Flash had escorted her to his room. How he had suggested to sleep on the floor to leave the bed for her. He had been the perfect gentlestallion. Fleetfoot was wondering if he was single… but then again, why should she mind?
Because, if it wasn’t for RD, I’d ask him out on a date.
Fleetfoot shrunk back from her own thought. Then, like some alien creature under a Petri dish, she started to slowly analyze it. Flash was kind. Flash was dependable. And he was darn cute.
She hadn’t paid much attention to this before, but now, as he sat next to her, she could clearly make out his strong muscles below his fur. His wings looked just as well-trained as hers. His feathers, still damp from the shower, had a well-groomed look and a soft shine to them. Also, there was this adorkable smile on his muzzle...
Damn, she realized, he’s some coltfriend material. Is… is he single?
Before she could think of a way to find it out, out of nowhere a new thought struck her. One so serious it felt like her heart skipped a beat, and it took a moment until the full weight of her thinking dawned on her.
Why care?
She blinked. Easy there, girl. Even if he’s single, you’re not. End of discussion.
But then again… if her relationship with Dash were to fail, what were the chances of her meeting a guy like him again? It felt like a now-or-never decision, and Fleetfoot didn’t like the taste of the alternative.
She cringed. What was she thinking? Had she really just considered replacing her marefriend of almost a year with somepony else? Somepony she had just met yesterday, on top of it?
She looked at him and noticed that he was curiously watching her. He quietly sat besides her, and apparently, he had noticed her change in posture. However, just like the night before, he patiently waited until she was ready to talk.
...Rainbow doesn’t have to know.
That was the moment Fleetfoot became afraid of her own thoughts. Was she really willing to walk down this path?
Then she asked herself: could she afford not considering it? What if she’d let this chance slip?
Either way, she’d have to make her move soon. If they’d part ways now, then this would be it. If she’d actually want to follow these treacherous desires, this was her only chance. Her mind was torn with guilt over the decision.
In her heart, however, she had made the decision minutes ago. “Flash?” she quietly spoke. He looked up. “Would you…” She hesitated. Then, a wave of determination washed it all away. “Would you be interested in meeting again?”
“You mean like-” He stopped.
“-like a date,” she confirmed. “I really like you, and… I don’t want to walk out of that door and never see you again.”
He stayed quiet for a moment. Then raked through his mane. “Well… Fuck.”
That hadn’t been the response she had been looking for. Something ice-cold reached into her chest, found her heart and squeezed. For a moment, Fleetfoot just sat there. “I- I’m sorry,” she eventually whispered. “If you don’t want to, I better…” She moved to get herself out of the bed. However, Flash’s wing moved to intercept.
“Wait. No. That’s… not what I meant.”
The cold grasp disappeared and her heart pounded faster as a new spark of hope came to life. Could it be…
“You see,” Flash began, “I’m surprised, but… not really averse to the idea. I really like you. The problem here is our jobs. This afternoon, Cadance and Shining will return to the Empire, and I’ll accompany them. While I have my free time here and there, that’s not nearly enough to visit another town regularly. For all I know, you’ll return to Cloudsdale, and Celestia knows where your next flight show is. We might not see each other for weeks, and that’s...” He shook his head. “I’ve been through that before. Not seeing the pony you care about for so long… It sucks, and I don’t want to go through that again. I’m sorry. If I was stationed in Cloudsdale or you were stationed in the Empire…”
Fleetfoot shook her head. “I understand.” She had to admit to herself that she hadn’t thought this through entirely. The realization hurt, though. Just when she thought there was light at the end of the tunnel, something to look forward to… Only to find out that it had just been a fantasy, a mindless thought that disappeared in the hard light of reality like fine mist in the morning sun.
“So, this is it, then?” she asked. She felt empty inside, all the joy from yesterday evening washed away by her stupid, naive hope and imagination.
“I guess so. I really enjoyed the time with you, though. It was really nice.” Flash slowly got himself up. He was about to head to his armor, when Fleetfoot grabbed his leg with one of her wings.
“Wait,” she said.
What are you doing?
“I know how this might sound, but…”
Stop! an inner voice cried out. A voice of reason that was soon silenced by other thoughts and deep rooted desires. Being around Flash had been great. She hadn’t felt this alive since the day she had flown for the first time. And just like flying, his presence had something addictive, something that made her wanting more.
“See,” she began, once doubt and restraint had faded into oblivion, “I really enjoyed the time with you, and I think we have an hour or two left until duty calls us.”
“Aye. So…?” Flash hesitantly asked. She could see it in his face. He was sensing what she had in mind, though he wasn’t completely certain.
Fleetfoot slowly sat up on the edge of the bed, before pulling Flash closer. She wrapped her wing around him. He didn’t hesitate. “If we don’t see each other again, I want to make the best of the time we have.”
Without waiting for his reaction, she kissed him. Slowly, gently. She enjoyed every second of it.
When they separated, Flash’s face showed equal amounts of joy and worry. “Don’t get me wrong, that was nice, but… are you sure?”
Fleetfoot nodded. In fact, she hadn’t felt this determined in her entire life since the day she had decided to become a Wonderbolt. She pulled him closer again. This time, while they were kissing, Flash pushed her back onto the mattress. He wrapped one of his forelegs around her while using the other one to catch the two of them.
The kiss lasted far longer this time, and Fleetfoot could tell he was enjoying it, too.
Screw the rules, she thought, while wrapping her hind legs around his waist. As she pulled him closer, she could feel his excitement pressing against her belly.
They didn’t need any more words. His hooves moved over her back and sides, caressing her, while his feathers teased her chest. Then he headed further down. With skillful motions, his limbs and lips explored her body, before he eventually sunk into her. Fleetfoot held him close, enjoying every minute they had, and Flash certainly made it worth it for her.
“This is crap!” Rainbow Dash complained. The oatmeal in her bowl was indeed a sad excuse of a breakfast. Fleetfoot had lost the little bit of appetite she had today the moment she had entered the barrack’s cafeteria.
“Stop complaining. You’re free to fly to Vanhoover and talk to our supplier yourself,” Spitfire called over from the other end of the table.
“But she’s right, these supply shortages suck,” Soarin joined. “We’re pro athletes, and this has the nutrition level of sawdust.”
Their flight show in Canterlot had been weeks ago. For Fleetfoot, this had meant a return to the dreaded old rut. Though she knew what she had to do, she hadn’t gotten herself to actually talk to Dash. However, since Canterlot and her little adultery, she had been far more relaxed. It was as if Flash had charged up some battery she hadn’t known she possessed. Since she had met him, she had been far more able to put up with Dash’s antics, as well as the general stress and flurry of her job.
Trainings, as well as flight shows in Vanhoover and Maretonia, had passed by her like a movie on fast forward. She knew one day she had to talk to Dash, but for now, their time together was actually quite passable.
“Screw the supplier.” Sky Stinger threw his spoon onto the tray. “I’m hitting the track.”
Affirmative mumbling went through the group. Spitfire got up first. “Alright then. Get dressed, get warmed up, I want the whole group at the obstacle course in twenty!”
While the others left the table and headed out, Fleetfoot idly stared at her tray. Something didn’t feel right, though she couldn’t point her hoof at it.
“You alright?” Spitfire asked from behind. She had stopped next to Fleetfoot, apparently noticing her subordinate’s lethargic mood.
“I’m alright… I think. I’ll be there in a bit.”
Spitfire simply nodded, then left. Fleetfoot grabbed her tray, shoved it into the trolley at the end of the cafeteria, then headed towards the locker room. By the time she was there the others were already heading out. She grumbled. If Spitfire caught her being late, she would most certainly do extra laps - something she was not looking forward to on a day like today.
It was when she tried to put her flight suit on that the unpleasant feeling in her guts started to intensify. To the point that her knees suddenly grew weak and she held onto her locker’s door for a moment. The next second, she realized what was about to happen. She dropped her suit and rushed towards the bathrooms as fast as she could.
She hadn’t really touched her breakfast, but the few bites she had taken now violently left her stomach the same way they had entered. She clung to the bowl, while her body relieved itself of oatmeal, apples, and her morning coffee.
What the fuck is wrong with me? she wondered. Her hoof shook when she reached out for some toilet paper to wipe her muzzle. She was about to get up again when a second urge overcame her.
Only after several more minutes, when she was certain there was nothing left in her stomach she dared to leave the bathroom. She sat down on a bench in the locker room, frantically pondering about what could be the cause of her sickness. Her breakfast? Yesterday’s dinner? Some of the snacks she had in between? However, she hadn’t eaten anything unusual or extraordinary in the last few days.
Nothing made sense, until a thought dawned on her. A very, very terrifying thought.
How long has it been since I’ve met Flash? Six weeks? Seven?
Her entire body tensed up. When was the last time I had been in heat? Half a year ago? Eight months? Could it… No! No, please not! No!
She stared into the air in pure horror. She needed certainty. Now!
Slamming her locker closed, she rushed out of the room towards her quarters. She didn’t have what she needed, but noncoms shared two-bed quarters in the academy, and she would bet her ass her roommate Blaze had. That crazy girl didn’t care a damn about prevention, and such mares always had quick tests ready just in case.
Fleetfoot had never before done it while being in heat, at least not with a stallion. She hadn’t felt any of the usual symptoms, but if meeting Flash had happened during the first one or two days of her estrus…
She tossed that thought aside, locked it in a deep hole and threw the key away. She was a professional athlete. She couldn’t allow herself to go through any of that.
Could this explain my attraction to Flash? she wondered. For how much of her infidelity could she blame herself, and what had been part of a hardwired instinct? Some natural, animalic desire to...
No! She didn’t want to follow that line of thought any second longer. She had liked Flash, truly enjoyed the time with him. She wouldn’t allow herself to doubt any of that.
Her thoughts raced while she rummaged through her roommates’ bedstand. A pack of paper tissues. Pills against travel sickness. A hoof full of loose cash. A half-eaten candy bar that almost made Fleetfoot throw up again.
And, eventually, a slim white package with pink and yellow printing on it. Fleetfoot tore it open, then headed to the bathroom with the instructions in one wing and the slender plastic item in the other.
Two minutes later, she sat on the edge of her bed, the quick test in her hooves. One blue stripe had already appeared, the confirmation that the item was working correctly. Now Fleetfoot was waiting, counting down the seconds that would relieve or end her.
Her career hung on this. Even in the best-case scenario it was hard to physically regenerate afterwards, and the Wonderbolts were a high-performance unit. There were members who had to permanently leave after simple things like a broken wing or a heavy case of the feather flu. Only the top half percent of all pegasi could even consider a career as a Wonderbolt, and after this, she’d certainly not qualify as one of them anymore.
It all depended on...
Her face froze. Her hooves began to shake. She felt another rush of nausea. No. No, please, by the stars, no!
Right next to the first stripe, a second one had begun to appear. It grew darker with every second, until there was no doubt left.
The instruction sheet was clear. Two stripes. Fleetfoot was pregnant.
For a moment, her whole world stopped moving. Like the calm before the storm, everything stood still for a moment, before it began to crumble in front of her eyes. Decades of training. Years of climbing through the ranks of the unit. All these efforts, and now-
“Hey Fleets, you’re alright?” a voice called out, while slowly pushing open the door to her room. Fleetfoot recognized the voice right away.
Dash! Dash, no! For the love of-
“Spits said I should go check on you, and you weren’t in the dressing room, so…”
Then it was too late. Rainbow Dash had entered the room. Her eyes fell on her marefriend, then on the little plastic object in her hooves, and on the terrified expression in Fleetfoot’s face. Dash recognized the item right away, as well as the meaning behind it. Her face tensed up. She looked like she wanted to say something, but for a now, they just stared at each other.
“Dash, I’m-”
Rainbow shook her head. Tears rolled down her cheeks, then she ran out of the room. She slammed the door close behind her, and Fleetfoot could hear her taking off right from the doorstep.
Determined to talk to her, she got up from the bed - only to reach out for the trash bin next to her. She coughed, then once again emptied her stomach.
“Dash…” she whispered. Tears began to fall. She had screwed up in every regard. It was only a matter of hours until Dash would have told Spitfire, and Soarin, and soon the whole unit would know.
Her thoughts went to Flash. He had been right, they’d probably never see each other again. Especially now, since her career as a Wonderbolt had practically come to an end.
Should… should I tell him? she wondered. He’d probably want to know. But…
She hesitated. She could only guess the impact this would have on his career. A high-ranked officer with an illegitimate child? How would his unit react to this? And his commanding officer? Would they just accept it and move on? Or go as far as to dishonorably discharge him? Unlike the Army, the Royal Guard was a prestigious and very traditionalistic branch. There was no way for her to predict the consequences of making it public.
She shuddered. Even worse, what if he would willingly end his job to be with her? He must have come a long way to reach such a high position. She had no right to ruin his career.
A million thoughts raced through her head. Even if he’d be with her, could she ever tell if it was because of her, or only be because of their child? She knew once she told him there’d be no way back, she’d practically force the decision on him.
Also, who was to say he’d even react positively to the news? They had gotten along well, but a friendship and a short-lived liaison were something different than raising a child together. She cursed, while her tears slowly dried on her cheeks. It had been her job to keep track of her estrus; she was the one who had screwed up.
I can’t tell him, she eventually decided. This had all been her fault; she couldn’t burden him with the consequences of her actions.
A moment later, the weight of this decision began to pull her down. No matter what would await her next, what would happen now, she was alone.
No, she thought after a second, while wiping her tears away and moving her hoof over her tummy. Not entirely alone.
Author's Note
So, for all of you who are wondering about the innuendos: The song that's being played in the bar is "Firelight", a collab between two of my favorite artists: Aurelleah and John Kenza.
The discussion Fleets, Flash and Candy have about the appearance value of a guard is one of my oldest headcanons about the guard, one I blame AnonAuthor for. Who knows his name and his legendary story knows what I'm referring to 
And Flash's medal?
Well, to find out about that, you'll have to wait for my dark epic "Of a King and a Queen" to be published.
That's it for today folks, I hope you had as much joy reading this story as I had writing it!
Your Midnight Quill
