Blazing Fire

It was dark when Blaze awoke. Her eyes strained to focus as she blinked away the dampness of tears that had soaked into her fur, her muzzle felt crusty with the trails of snot that ran down over her mouth and smeared itself along her cheeks, and her mane itched with knots and neglect. Her wings stung and pricked her in places where feathers jostled loosely, especially with the heavy weight of the thick comforter upon her. But all these details gave her no mind.

What did seep into her mind however, were the knocks on her door, the reason for her sudden rude awakening. The thudding grew in rapidity and intensity by the second, and it took Blaze what little energy she had to eye her clock, ‘10:34 PM’ it read. So it was still Friday…

That made her head droop against her wet and crusty pillow once more, and she wished nothing more than to just be rid of this horrible day. But the knocking on her door seemed to have other ideas. She half wondered if she just laid there long enough if the offender would go away and leave her to sleep away her anguish, but if they were here this late, it might be important.

So, with her matt and crusty fur cricking and cracking in places, and her wings aching in a pale ache, she rolled out of her bed. The sheets and blankets (besides her thick wooly) were thrown about, mangled and damp with sweat and moisture from her lack of sufficient drying earlier, and she trotted to the light blue door, ignoring the cracking sounds upon the floor, “Who is it.” She croaked out.

There was a moment of silence, a long one, it made Blaze almost want to just do a 360 and head right back to bed. Perhaps she had taken the pounding in her head for a dozen knocks on the door. But, she eventually did get an answer, “It’s Spitfire.” The voice said. Blaze’s eyes widened, and she suddenly felt wide awake. A deep frown accompanied her fierce look as she undid the lock on the door and swung it open.

Before her was Spitfire, the mare looked no different than on any other day, though her mane was brushed out and done in a swaybacked style, similar to how Fleetfoot wore her own, and she had a jacket on; it was a light blue, with gold trimmings, and Blaze would have believed it to be one of their service uniforms, but upon closer inspection she could tell it was more akin to a casual outing coat than any formal uniform. There was another thing Blaze noticed clearly about her sister, and that was the gloss over her eyelids. She knew Spitfire often wore it when they were going on a show, mostly to highlight her eyes apart from the spandex flight uniforms when she did photo ops or autographs. But for her to wear it outside of its usual functionality...well, it was the closest thing to make-up the mare would wear.

“Oh, what do you want?” Blaze spat upon finishing her inspection.

Spitfire didn’t say anything right away, but with her typical confidence, she asked, “Can I come in?”

“Why?” Blaze responded without a second thought.

“I just want to talk.” Spitfire was just as quick on the draw.

“What is there to talk about?”

“There is plenty.” Spitfire took a step forward, their muzzles almost touching, “And none of it are things that should be said in the middle of a hallway.” They were in fact in the barracks. Rows and rows of similarly colored doors of a light blue lined the walls down the hall where it eventually made a turn left out of the barrack-hall. It was a wide and tall area, made with flying pegasi in mind. But that didn’t mean the walls were all that thick, or the floors for that matter. They were made of clouds.

Blaze squinted her eyes at the mare, and though she had a point, it took every inch of her willpower to fight the urge to slam the door in Spitfire’s face. But she knew better. Spitfire was a stubborn mare in many cases, especially when it came to Blaze, and she would just be back at it tomorrow. If there was a tomorrow. Blaze quickly shook that thought away for not the first time today, and stepped aside to let her sister in.

Trotting in, Spitfire immediately stopped in her tracks as she gazed around the room, “Mare, oh, mare, what did you do?” She muttered.

The room was trashed. What had originally been a simple quarters with a twin bed, a dresser, mirror, personal wardrobe, and trunk, had been completely dismantled. Splinters of wood and glass littered the thin carpeted floor, clothes and books were tossed about, and the wardrobe had it’s doors ripped from their metal hinges and smashed against the door that led to a small personal washroom. The only pieces of furniture untouched was the bed itself (minus the sheets and blankets) and the thick blue wool curtains that were bundled over the windows, letting barely enough of the moonlight in for the two sisters to see around the room in shadows and silhouettes.

Blaze wasn’t fazed by the carnage, and simple trotted over to her bed and sat upon it, “Why?” Was all she said.

Spitfire looked away from the glimmering glass shards that used to be a mirror at her sister puzzled, “What?”

“Why?” Blaze’s voice almost whined, “Why did you go out with him?”

Spitfire blew some air out of her nose, not in an angry sort of way, but in a way to tell that she had hoped to ease into the conversation, not slam it with a hammer, but she answered truthfully, “Why not? He offered to take me out to dinner—”

Blaze stood up snarling, “That’s not an excuse!”

Spitfire narrowed her eyes, “What was I to do? Say no? It’s fr—”

“YES!” Blaze snapped, cutting her sister off a second time, “What about our deal!? What about protocol!?” She roared, taking a few fiery steps forward, crunching glass and splinters under her hooves, “If I had known, after all these years, that you would just pounce on him the first chance you got! Without giving a rat’s ass about anything we have talked about, I would have done so myself years ago!”

She grit her teeth and looked up at an ancient Wonderbolts poster from their filly-hood days, framed high on the wall. It was thankfully a light plastic frame and not made of glass, if the dent in it where Blaze had thrown something at it was any tell, least it likely would have disintegrated, “I would have given up my career to be with him, before I made it to Fourth, before all these tours! Before all of this! I would have had the one thing that would matter in the end...him.”

At her pause Spitfire cut in, “But don’t you like being a Wonderbolt? Don’t you like flying with the team? Seeing the world? It’s what we’ve both dreamed of since we were foals!”

Blaze looked off somewhere for a long time, her eyes distant, “No.” She muttered under her breath, then glared at Spitfire, “No. Not anymore.” She faced her once more fully, her sister’s face contorted and wide eyed with surprise at Blaze’s words, “Because all it does is remind me of all the things I wished I was.”

She was right in Spitfire’s face now, “All these years I’ve done nothing but live in your shadow. When I’m out on the streets ponies trot up to me with ‘Oh, your Spitfire, right?’ and ‘Hey, Captain Spitfire! Can I have an autograph?” Tartarus, even Rainbow confused me for you a few times during her first few weeks! And she has been a fan since she was a bucking filly!” Blaze’s voice cracked as she looked away from Spitfire, whose face was lowered slightly at her words, “And after it’s all over, it's ‘Oh, sorry, I thought you were somepony else.’ or ‘Do you really know Spitfire? Tell me about her, not you.’ No, nopony cares about Blaze.”

She took a step back, “But how can I blame them.” She sighed, her head drooping and her eyes tracing the glittering shards of glass that littered the floor, “You’re everything anypony would want to be. Quick, loyal, smart, and sure. Captain of the Wonderbolts, you’ve had to have set a couple dozen records, won a hundred derbies, flown faster than few pegasi has flown before, and a voice that doesn’t sound like a ten-year-old. You’re everything ponies wished they could be, everything I wished I could be. You were always the better one of us.”

Spitfire made to argue, but stopped as Blaze moved over to a shelf that she had ripped from the wall and slammed to the ground, “Did I tell you that mom denounced me?” The frazzled mare whimpered.

Spitfire’s ears perked up, as if she didn’t hear her right, “What?”

Blaze nodded, “When she came to visit a few years ago, during the whole debacle with Wind Rider? That was the first time we’d seen her in years...and she said I wasn’t her daughter. That you were her only daughter.” The mare choked back a tear, “I...I kept my cool during that incident, for the team’s sake, and for Rainbow’s sake. But…” She turned to her sister, who had a look of pure, unadulterated rage plastered on her face,“...but you know mom always hated me. She never wanted twins...she never wanted to have to take care of two foals. Especially after dad died, especially when one is just so...so much of a failure...so much of a mistake.”

Blaze heard the approach of her sister, but didn’t dare face her, “Don’t...don’t say that.” Spitfire swallowed, her voice faltering for a moment, “Don’t you bucking say that.”

Through shaky breaths, Blaze quivered, “But it’s true…” She was whipped around, and Spitfire bore her eyes into Blaze’s own.

“NO it’s not!” Spitfire growled, “You’re my sister. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

Her words didn’t seem to phase Blaze, who’s amethyst eyes usually full of confidence and life, were dull and almost grey, “You’d probably be Colonel right now, without this sack weighing you down.” Her eyes drooped behind thick tears, she didn’t dare look at her sister as she spoke, “You’d have been better off without me. Better off right from the beginning. Maybe...m-maybe you’d still b-be better off w-without me.” Her words started faulting, images of her letting go in a dive, freefalling, hitting the earth hard, ridding the world of her stain. It was a scary thought, but one she wished for in this moment, “Y-you can have him, you’know. I...I won’t be a-around much long-ger, I’d think.”

She felt a hard body collide with her own as Blaze was nearly thrown to the floor with the force of the hug. Blaze looked up at Spitfire, who now let the tears flow freely, her eyes red and glistening in the little light that came through from the windows, her teeth set and snarling, “Is that all you think this is about!? Is Soarin all that matters in your mind!? You think I would trade my sister for him!? You’re bucking mistaken!” She roared through shaky breaths as she gripped her sister, who held her back just as tight as she trembled.

“I love you, Blaze.” Spitfire quivered, “More than anything on the whole of Equis. I don’t even want to think what I would do if I lost you…” She looked down at the mare, who’s mind was at the moment darker than the room they stood, “...please, please don’t make me think about that. Please don’t put those images in my head...me standing over your grave. For Celestia’s sake don’t do that.” Spitfire whimpered, the usually stoic and rock hard mare everyone knew her as was gone, and left in her place was a loving sister, who’s emotions flowed just as freely as any other pony.

Blaze looked up from her place on her haunches, too overwhelmed to stand as she broke down fully, bawling into her sister’s chest. “I’m sorry!” She cried through muttered breath, “I’m sorry…”

She felt hooves and wings wrap around her, and a warmth enveloped her as Spitfire hugged her as she too cried into Blaze’s frazzled mane. A chorus of tears and choking emotions filling the ransacked room. They didn’t care if they were loud, they didn’t care who heard, they didn’t even care that the door was still slightly open and ajar, all they cared about was the mare in their embraces, and they cried and wept and whimpered there together for a long time.

--s--

Blaze lifted the unhinged wardrobe door and placed it beside the large wooden thing. Meanwhile, Spitfire swept up the glass around the room and deposited it all into a trash bag she had gotten from down the hall in one of the janitor’s closets. As Blaze finished hauling the rather large wardrobe door, she spotted Spitfire holding up a smashed picture frame, and she looked over to her sister, “Was that all true, what you said about Stormy?” Spitfire asked.

Blaze wiped away some of the dryness from her eyes, she had cried today so much more than she had in years, “Yes.” She answered simply.

Spitfire looked down at the photograph, it was an old photo, from when they were in highschool. A teenage Spitfire and Blaze hugged in excitement as they held their academy acceptance letters, and standing over them, on Spitfire’s side, was Stormy Flare. The mare was not so different in those days, she still wore that deep purple eyeshadow that she always went overboard with, though the bags under her eyes were not so noticeable as they were now.

Slipping the photograph from it’s smashed prison, Spitfire glared at it intensely, “Why did you never tell me?

Blaze paused for a moment, and rubbed her foreleg, “I...didn’t think it was important.”

Spitfire snapped to her, “It’s important to me, Blaze.”

Blaze faltered under her gaze, “But it’s not important to anypony else—”

“I don’t care about anypony else.” Spitfire interjected, “Especially not that bitch we call a mother.”

Blaze’s ears perked and her eyes widened in surprise, “Sis, you can’t say that about her!” She never expected to hear anyone say something so crude about their mother, especially not Spitfire, who looked up to Stormy Flare in almost every way. Yes, Spitfire knew well that their mother didn’t see Blaze in a very good light, but at least she was still there. But now Spitfire had an almost distant look, as if she had just been enlightened with some great morale lesson or had seen the Princesses descend from the heavens themselves. It was a look that burned with the passion of said enlightenment, and the rage that came with it. It was...terrifying.

Spitfire grunted, “If Stormy is going to go so far as to disown you, then she can kiss my bucking flank for all I care. No mother should ever be so dismissive of their own daughter, no matter what...” She placed the photo on the bed and trotted up to her sister, and put a hoof on her shoulder, “Especially not when they’ve done everything to try and make them proud.” She finished with a deep smile.

Blaze returned it, and let out a breath, “You’re right sis, I’m sorry.” She looked up to Spitfire, who looked about ready to interject again, “Buck her to all the nine layers of Tartarus.”

Spitfire’s smile returned, and she gave Blaze’s shoulder a solid pat, “That’s the Blaze I like to see and hear. Now, let’s get this shit cleaned up before janitorial comes through and sends a complaint, hmm?”

So they continued with their cleaning. The floors were swept clear, the clothes were put away (Blaze was surprisingly fond of long, flowing, skirts and other strangely earth-pony-like styles), and the bed was stripped and new sheets and pillows were brought in from the service room down the hall, again, thanks to Spitfire’s key. What was left untouched, however, was the shelf in which the photo frames had once been set upon. Blaze didn’t want to touch those just quite yet.

Now, it came down to cleaning themselves. Despite the fact that the team used the locker room for getting clean most of the time, ever since the renovation in the barracks (which gave each member their own personal quarters rather than everyone sleeping in a big room with some beds and trunks) they had access to personal showers in their quarters. And so the two sisters took their turns cleaning, Blaze going first and wasting no time washing out the snot and grime from her day of wallowing in self-pity, and Spitfire came out silently cursing after her own shower about having to use Blaze’s citrus shampoo. Why Spitfire hadn’t just gone down the hall to her own quarters to shower was unknown to Blaze, but if she were to guess, she just wanted to be there for her every step of the way.

Now, nice and clean (and for Blaze, actually dry this time) they sat on the bed together, Spitfire helping her sister preen, an act she had neglected to do after her breakdown. It felt nice, and between sisters, this act of intimacy was just another Tuesday. “You know, sis. There was a reason I wanted to come see you tonight.” Spitfire said as she pulled a loose feather from her sister’s left wing.

Blaze sighed in relief, that particular one was really starting to become a bother, “It’s about the date, right?” She said, a bit of a wince on her voice, as if she was almost hurt by the words. Which, she was.

Spitfire nodded, “Yes, but, as I tried to explain earlier I...kind of read it the wrong way.” She looked to Blaze with a sly smile, “And it seems you’ve read it wrong as well.”

Blaze cocked a brow, her growing sadness replaced by confusion, “What do you mean?”

Spitfire chuckled as she went back to working on Blaze’s wings, “It wasn’t a date. He just...wanted to get out of the complex. Share a meal that wasn’t grainy goop on a tray with a friend. That sort of thing.”

Blaze settled herself down, trying not to move so her sister would work her magic, “Wait, so you two aren’t a thing now?”

Spitfire pulled another loose feather and spat it out onto the floor, “No, well, not yet.”

Blaze craned her head behind her, “What do you mean not yet?”

Spitfire looked at her with a smirk, “Well, we got to talking about a lot of stuff. Mostly about the Griffonstone tour. You know how he asked about Rainbow?”

Blaze recoiled, “You knew?”

Spitfire rolled her eyes, “Sis, you weren’t exactly quiet when you ran off. I knew you were listening in.” Blaze didn’t say anything in response, and let Spitfire continue, “Well, he was asking me about bumping you up to third and letting her take your place as fourth.”

Blaze craned her head again, “Why?”

Spitfire smiled, “He’s thinking about retiring after this next tour.” She replied simply as if her words were just something she said every day.

But to Blaze, that made her jump up and face her sister fully on the bed, “What?! Soarin’s retiring!?”

Spitfire simply nodded, “Yep, he was hoping that he’d have more time to put in the paperwork, but since we’ve been bumped to next month, he’s got really pushy on the subject, he wanted to know if I could try and rush the paperwork, talk to the Colonel, all that.”

Blaze couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Soarin was retiring. Those were words she didn’t think she would hear for another ten or so years. The stallion was only in his mid-thirties, and Spitfire and herself were only a few months behind him (and Blaze was only a few seconds behind Spitfire). The idea of a stallion still so energetic and young retiring so soon from the Wonderbolts was, while not unheard of, rare. Especially considering he was commander.

“Why?” Blaze asked, settling down and letting Spitfire work on her wings again.

Spitfire was quick to answer, “We talked about alot of stuff over pizza, sis. He talked about how, as much as he liked doing tours and working with the team, he wants to see the world without restriction. Go out and see what there was to see. Wanderlust, I suppose you would call it.” She leaned in, her breath tickling Blaze’s ears, “He was even considering settling down instead, finding a nice mare...starting a family.”

That made Blaze shudder, and Spitfire continued, “And you know what that means, right?”

Blaze breathed, she had a pretty good idea where this was going, “What?”

Spitfire smirked, “That means, we won’t be held back by Protocol 9.” She leaned in again, “And it’s given me a few ideas, a few ideas that are sure to benefit everypony involved.”

Blaze had a feeling this was going to be a hot night, her wings were going to stay erect for awhile, that was for sure.