Blazing Fire

by GeneralChaos345

Rating: mature
Tags: Fetish, Sex, Spitfire, Profanity, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Soarin, Sad, Other, Romance
Length: 16528

Blaze likes Soarin...alot. Problem is, her twin sister, Spitfire, also likes him alot. So, their solution? Share.

Blaze has always been an overlooked member of the Wonderbolts. She doesn't make the front pages of magazines, she doesn't get thousands of fans cheering her name, most ponies don't even know she exists half the time. Mostly because she is more often than not overshadowed by the other Bolts, especially her sister, Spitfire. Most ponies can barely tell them apart.

But, their appearances and choice of occupation aren't the only thing they share, they are also both clearly aware of each other's life-long crush:

Soarin.

For years they have secretly swooned over him, but with the coming of their acceptations into the Wonderbolts, all hopes of either of the sisters courting him have been wiped from the table. But now, Soarin is getting up in the years, and he's thinking about retiring soon. This gives Spitfire an idea, a brilliant idea...

They're going to welcome this stallion to the joys of retirement. Together.

Contains: F/F, M/F/F, Incest, Semi-Public sex, Impregnation, and twin sisters fucking the stallion of their dreams. You've been warned.

Written for Shakespericles Wincest Winter of Worldbuilding Contest In which it placed 4th. Thanks Shakespericles!

Published 2020-12-21 16:30:00 UTC
Last updated 2020-12-21 16:30:00 UTC

Play With Fire

The locker rooms of the Wonderbolt Academy had always been a sacred place. It was more than a room with lockers and benches. More than just a part of the complex to get a nice warm shower after exercises, a place for the laundry staff to get sweat soaked uniforms. It was more than just another room for janitorial to grunt over, more than just a place that you get in and get out. It was so much more than what it seemed on the surface, just tile, metal, and pipes.

This place had a history. In every crack and crevice, in every dent and scratch on a locker, in every smell and sound (especially those few loose tiles in the corner of the room that had been there for who knew how many years). It was the ground that the team stood on, for dozens of generations of Wonderbolts; for hundreds of individuals it was the foundation for their personal comradery, and the birthing place of bitter rivalries. It was a simple place, built purely with functionality in mind, but it was the memories and feelings beyond it’s material that made it so special.

And for Blaze, Fourth-in-Command of the Wonderbolts, holder of a dozen records, home to a mountain of medals and trophies, and recipient of the Celestial Cross of Valor, it was the best place in the entire academy. Closing her locker, the latch needing just an extra little push to lock in place, she turned, towel over her withers, to the main floor as it buzzed with life.

The entire team was in, washing and changing, massaging sore muscles and wings, talking and laughing, all with lively eyes and brimming smiles: the polar opposite of the stoic and rock hard discipline that had become the expected look of a Wonderbolt was. Blaze strode through like she owned the place, head high, and her posture one of pure confidence and pride. There were few things she loved more than being a Wonderbolt, and one of those things was the hot shower that awaited her following a long day of flight practice.

Trotting past the walls of lockers, making note of Rainbow Dash and Fleetfoot arguing over some seemingly random title within the record books in the academy (as they typically did) she entered the wash-hall, rows and rows of showers closed off by thin blue curtains lined the walls. The sounds of flowing water, and a thin veil of steam filled the room. There was a humming, soft and barely audible over the roar of water accompanied by the hounding jolts of laughter and conversation just behind her. But, even through all these distractions, she knew exactly who it was.

Soarin.

He never wanted to admit it, but the stallion had the knack for singing in the showers. Everypony in the team knew it without a second doubt in their mind, but he always played it off, barely acknowledging it. To be fair, it sounded terrible, but Blaze couldn’t help but think it was the most beautiful thing in the world, and she found herself just a few short hoofsteps away from his pod, his voice ever so clearer now.

The stallion's grey shadow moved and twisted beyond the thin piece of plastic separating him from her sight as he sung some seemingly random song, likely from some barely known band from back in their high school days. Her mind was flooded as she watched him move and listened to his voice, the vivid images of his lean body, wet and matte with mineral water, his muscles pulsing and twisting with each step, his wet deep blue mane flowing freely down his withers, a contrast to his usually high and spiked style, and his deep, emerald green eyes, gleaming in the pale light as they passed over to meet her own shining amethyst ones. All she needed to do was push aside the offensive curtain that stood between them.

Blaze shook herself from the thoughts and urges, to find her right hoof had already risen towards the edge of the wall, ready to throw open the shower to expose Soarin to all the world. She recoiled and quickly drew her hoof back, hugging it against her chest, her tuft spilling over it, as if her hoof being exposed was a sin against the Sisters themselves. What in Tartarus was wrong with her? Was she really all that willing to just intrude upon his privacy, something that was a rare commodity in the Bolts? To push herself upon him? She quickly looked to the doorway into the shower room, and thanked Celestia nopony had seen her.

Blaze quickly retreated to the farthest end of the hall, and sealed herself within a shower pod, and let out the breath she had been holding. She couldn’t believe that she had come so close to giving in, after all these years to lose against her battle of urges to make a mistake that would surely end what she had built up already. He would yell at her, all the Bolts would know, word would spread, command would question her and she’d be forced to tell the truth, she’d get discharged for harassment, and she’d be left with nothing. Soarin wouldn’t even bat an eye at her. After all those years of friendship, it would be as if none of it ever happened…

And oh Celestia, what would Spitfire think? What would she do? That was a thought that made Blaze shutter in fear. Despite all their personal ups and downs, the idea of her twin sister, one of the few ponies she cared for more deeply than herself, berating her, screaming up in her face like she was just another one of the reservists or some random pony on the street, that she would just lay it into her...it made her think of mother.

She shook her head. No, none of those thoughts here. Blaze took a moment to breath and clear her mind. She was just having an episode, one of hundreds of thousands she had been made to deal with over these many many years, and the mare knew that if she could get through those without screwing up the things that mattered most, then she could continue on forever if she needed to. Right?

Oh, merciful Sisters she needed that shower.

Reaching out she slung her towel over the little pole outside the pod, and then turned on a heel towards the shower head. Below were a few knobs for hot and cold, as well as a dispenser for soap and shampoo. The others often complained about the smell (or lack thereof) from the goopy clear stuff, and Blaze was inclined to agree. If there was one thing she did not share with her sister, it was Spitfire’s hatred for scented stuff, but Blaze couldn’t help but think that perhaps there was nothing all too wrong with a few floral shampoos or some lavish soap here and there.

Twisting the knobs, she set them just in the right place just how she liked it, the hot (but not scalding) water flowed down the top of her head, pushing down her slightly messy, spiked red-orange mane over her face and down her neck and withers. She didn’t have a lot of hair, no, but much like any pegasus, just because it stood up on its own didn’t mean it was any less thick and heavy; much thanks to be given to pegasi biology.

She took the time to let the water soak her entirely, the warmth easing her stiff muscles and tickling her wings, even just from the trickle of water running along them she could feel a few loose feathers. She would need to preen, but that would have to wait until after her wash. But she didn’t focus on that, no, she didn’t focus on anything. Just the water to give her good feelings, and she sighed audibly and contently, wishing she could stay there forever.

But, Blaze knew she couldn’t. It was another urge she had to fight off, and settling her resolve she poured herself some soap and started lathering up her fur, making sure to scrub out the dried sweat and clear the patches of matted dull golden fur, especially on her tuft. She let the soap do its work and started laboring on her mane and tail, running her hooves through them to clean out the grunk and loosen the strands in places where tangles and knots had formed. She would also need a good brushing later as well as a preen. Maybe she could get Soarin to help?

She sat on her haunches, the cold tiles a contrast to the warmth of the water, and let her mind wander on that thought, just this one time.

--s--

Blaze didn’t know how long she had sat in the shower, but feeling the soggy frogs of her hooves she could tell it was a good long while. She had heard a few of the other Bolts come and go, rinsing and washing, staying only as long as they needed before taking off back to the lockers to change. She hadn’t paid them any mind. What she did focus on, however, was the fact that she could still hear the murmurs of Soarin’s whispered singing a few pods down. It seemed he was taking his sweet time, considering he had been in there long before Blaze had even stepped hoof in the locker rooms (she had asked Misty Fly about his whereabouts earlier.)

Not wanting to sit idly any longer, no matter how good the water felt, she stood up and shut the water off and pushed the curtain aside. Looking down the long hall, she spotted steam still rising from Soarin’s shower. She also heard the spray of another showerhead just a few pods down from her, roaring almost in her ear with how fast the water was flowing. No steam rose above and out of the curtain from this one either. What sort of pony didn’t want a hot shower?

Blaze found her stomach sink slightly at the thought, not that she cared so much about a pony’s taste in water temperature, but that she knew only one pony in the Wonderbolts that was so bold and brash as to take a cold shower after a long and intense day of working out. And with the audible sounds of twisting knobs, and the shaking of mane, she got her answer, and it made her stomach twist all the deeper.

Out stepped Spitfire, Captain of the Wonderbolts, holder of a dozen world records, home of double if not triple the amount of show medals and trophies as Blaze, and personal recipient of nearly a hundred ribbons and service decorations, of which she always made sure to display proudly during drill week with the reservists. She was the mare with the plan, with a resolve as strong as stone, and a will cast in iron.

Behind her two tone brighter orange mane, drooping heavily down her wet head, she didn’t notice Blaze right away, and instead stepped out onto the white tile floor and with towel in hoof, made long efficient strokes along her toned body, the white towel greying out as it soaked up the moisture from her fur. Blaze couldn’t lie, her sister was a good looking mare, her lean body and well groomed mane and tail were all elements one would expect from a mare in the Wonderbolts or the Guard, much less a Captain within.

For any passersby, sparing no more than a second glance, they looked practically identical. Same coats, with manes barely distinguished from each other by colors, even their cutie marks were curiously similar, both flames, though Spitfire’s overlapped in a flowing non-existent rush of air, while Blazer’s own stretched apart like burning wings slowing a rapid descent. Their eyes made it a bit easier to tell who was who, Blaze’s cool amethyst eyes a direct contrast to Spitfire’s fiery orange ones. The two sisters could have been easily mistaken for each other, though it was kind of hard for anyone to misplace Spitfire, considering her entire figure was in the minds of hundreds of thousands of pegasi (and other Wonderbolt fans), at least compared to Blaze.

Blaze hadn’t realized she had been ogling her twin sister, and she made to look away, but Spitfire seemed to have noticed her staring, as well as her frown, just a few close seconds too soon.

“Hey there, Sis.” Spitfire greeted as she ran the towel over her mane, vigorously shaking it to and fro to catch the moisture, “You look like you’re happy to see me.”

Blaze said nothing for a moment, watching her sister’s posture, and trying to spy the look on her face, but it was all in vain. She couldn’t read the mare well at all, but she knew damn well Spitfire could read her back like a librarian to a book. “You could say that.” Blaze half-heartedly replied, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. It wasn’t that she was intimidated by her sister, no, but Blaze was willing to admit that there was an aura she saw about Spitfire, something that made her feel small, and miniscule when even in the same room as her. She hid it well during shows, and so far even to the rest of the team. But, Blaze knew the feeling well, and it ached in her chest.

With the towel hanging around her withers now, Spitfire kept up her stoicism, a neutral frown on her face, she started on her shoulders and forelegs, “I hope the training didn’t hit the team too hard, it's a new routine me and Soarin had been wanting to try out.”

At Spitfire’s mention of Soarin, Blaze was reminded of another thing that the two shared, and that was their since-fillyhood crushes on said stallion. Their mother had known (at-least about Spitfires’) and they sure-as-rain knew about each other sharing their feelings for him. It had always made him a...complicated cog within the machines of their lives. Neither sister had yet to make any real move on the stallion, nor did any of their hints or tells of their hidden love for him seemingly catch his attention. Both sisters had agreed long ago that he likely would not have liked them back anyway, so their games and rivalry of chasing him around through highschool had ended their senior year, and it surely ended when they went through recruitment camp for the Wonderbolts. Especially considering it was against protocol to date within the team.

It was still something that weighed heavily on Blaze’s heart, and if Spitfire still held those feelings she couldn’t tell, but she didn’t doubt it, considering how close she and Soarin were. And even though they had both formally agreed to end their outward rivalry over him, Blaze knew that they still held a form of hidden competition between themselves, and Blaze knew Spitfire was winning across the board by a long shot. It made Blaze’s eyes dip for a moment.

A moment too long it seemed, as Spitfire was on it in an instant, “What’s up?”

Blaze recoiled, and quickly grabbed her towel to start drying herself, “N-nothing. It’s nothing.” She lied.

The sound of hoofsteps against tile faintly touched her ears, and Spitfire spoke again, much clearer, “Sis, don’t try and bullshit me. What’s on your mind.” When Blaze didn’t respond right away, taking a suspiciously long time to dry the fur over her face, she spoke again, though in a much more sympathetic tone, “It’s Soarin, isn’t it.”

Sighing in defeat, Blaze removed the towel from her face, “Yes…” Spitfire made to say something, but Blaze cut her off, “I know we agreed that we wouldn’t try after him anymore, but...It’s…” She sighed, “It’s just hard sometimes, ya’know?”

Spitfire stood there silent for a moment, her thoughts trapped behind her focused eyes, any tells she had to expose their nature were unknown to Blaze, but she eventually nodded softly, “I know. I know more than anypony.” She nearly whispered, barely audible. But she continued, now much louder and with her usual confidence, “But, there is nothing to be done, Blaze. We both know this. It’s been years since we made our little pact. And I’m willing to admit that…”

Before she could finish her thought, the room fell silent as the sounds of rushing water ceased, and a few curtains down from his shower stepped out Soarin, still lightly humming a tune, his wet fur glistening like a thousand stars, his mane shimmering and clamped against his neck, dripping water down his muscular body. He wasn’t a monstrosity of mass like that Hulk Biceps fellow Blaze had met years ago, no, Soarin was lean and proportional, the perfect specimen of a stallion if she had ever known one. His emerald eyes, accompanied by slight bags from his age, darted between Spitfire and herself, and his humming stopped dead.

“Spits, Blaze.” He simply nodded to each of them with a smile oh-so contagious, as he reached for his towel and trotted over towards them.

Blaze looked between him and Spitfire, and her jaw clenched a few times and any words she had thought to say were stopped in her throat. To be fair, she was a bit stuck focusing on trying not to stare at his wet body. Spitfire caught onto the silence rather quickly, and she turned to her second-in-command and greeted him back, “Soarin, fancy meeting you here.”

The stallion chuckled, “I could say the same, Spits. I did hop in a bit later than usual today. You tend to take earlier ones, like me.” He said in reference to Spitfire’s tendency to be first in the showers after exercises. Blaze liked taking later showers, and she was afraid to admit the only real reason being so she could avoid meetings such as this one. Her heart was pounding, and she could feel the tint on her cheeks. Spitfire seemed to notice instantly, she always had an eye for detail, and decided to cover her again while Blaze tried to get herself under control.

“Command wanted to see me as soon as possible, so I went right after practice.” Spitfire answered as she dried her barrel.

Soarin’s smile deepened, “I don’t suppose the boss was too happy with you trotting in like that.”

Spitfire cocked a brow, “What are you implying?”

Blaze knew that if Soarin had been any other stallion, they would likely have instantly backtracked and faltered under her tone, but he had known Spitfire (and herself by extent) for nearly all his life, and he simply responded with an even deeper smile, “All I’m saying is, perhaps changing before meeting up with the Colonel would save a few noses.”

Blaze lightly chuckled from her place as she worked on her tail, and Soarin turned to her, “Blaze, how goes things?” The mare looked up, feeling as if she had made a mistake making herself audibly known, but she was instantly entranced by his eyes, and his friendly, genuine smile told of his curious and simple intentions to ask the simple question. All her stress was suddenly gone, and she felt her wings relax back to her sides.

“Well, they’re always better with you around.” She answered without thinking, and her eyes widened slightly once the words caught up with her.

Soarin took it as a complement, and his smile deepened, “I’d hope so. ‘Hate to be hated.” He nudged her, and Blaze felt like her heart was going to burst with how fast it was pumping, and she was sure she could cook an egg on her cheeks, even her ears felt red hot.

Spitfire coughed, grabbing the stallion’s attention again, “Well, as I was saying. The Colonel wanted me to run by a few things. Asking about the training and all that. He also updated me on the coming tour.”

Soarin nodded, “The Griffonstone tour? It’s only a couple months away, what could he need to update you on so late?” Soarin asked, drying his hinds with the towel, giving Blaze an unintended peek at his dark grey package hidden beneath, just about two feet from her face. She felt a shiver go down her spine, and her rump instinctively rubbed lightly against the cold, wet tiles of the floor.

Spitfire seemed to have gotten an equal glance as she shuddered slightly, but kept it under control, “He got orders to move the tour to next month.”

Soarin recoiled, as did Blaze who was suddenly free from her love-struck stupor, flicking her ears in surprise and she opened her mouth ready to comment, though Soarin was but a second quicker, “Next month?! We’ve only been drilling for a few weeks! Not to mention getting everypony ready for the trip!” His words made Spitfire raise a brow, as with Blaze. These were petty concerns, and no amount of drill was going to make the Bolts any better than they already were, the practice was just more about getting everypony into the mindset more than anything. They both knew this, even if they treated practice like the fate of Equestria depended on their hours of training out in the field. Something else was on the stallion’s mind.

He seemed to pick up on this, the fact that they both knew, and he dropped his head down slightly, “Blaze, could you do me a favor?” He asked what many ponies simply called ‘the twin’, in the room.

Blaze immediately perked up at him addressing her, “Yeah, yeah, whaddya need?” She asked, trying not to let the insecurity nagging at the back of her mind take over and make her words falter.

He turned to her, a stoic look on his face, and her confidence dropped by the second “Think you could give me and your sister a bit of privacy?”

Blaze gulped at his tone, as much as she doubted that he meant it as an order, she couldn’t help but feel that it was an order. Her eyes darted to her sister, who stood there just as confused as she was, and back to Soarin, who still stood there patiently for a response. Blaze shook herself mentally, she was a Wonderbolt damnit! She wasn’t supposed to be getting ‘limp-wing’ under pressure! She was supposed to crave pressure, and eat on-the-ball decisions for breakfast!

After a moment, especially thanks to her personal prep talk, she finally nodded out an answer, “Sure.”

Soarin responded with that smile of his again, losing his stern glare, and that was all Blaze needed before she stood up and trotted out the room to fulfil his request. Even though she was still a bit wet, especially around the rump, she figured a little bit of water outside the shower-hall wouldn’t turn any heads. She turned to the left, and stopped to finish drying herself, and her ears perked up as she heard murmuring from Soarin.

Blaze paused to listen in, and while she doubted Soarin would appreciate her spying on their conversation, Blaze knew that Spitfire would likely tell her about it’s content anyways. She usually did when it came to Soarin, unless it was something really private. But what if this was going to be one of those private conversations? Something shared only between the closest of friends? Oh, how it made Blaze shudder in curiosity and a tiny hint of jealousy. Maybe if she listened in for just a few seconds...

“Was there anything else last minute the Colonel said?” She heard Soarin say.

Spitfire responded not a second later, “No, nothing else besides the usual, ‘You do a great thing for the team’ and ‘I’m proud to have such a sharp, able-bodied captain’, the usual spiel.”

Blaze knew about the Colonel, and how he seemed very...fond of her sister, it was a very strange thought, considering the stallion was nearly old-enough to be their grandfather, and it did not sit very well with Blaze. She often had half a thought to march down to his office and tell him to lay off Spitfire, but she knew that would get her court faster than a pony could drop a pen. Blaze continued listening.

“What about Rainbow?” Soarin asked.

“What about her?” Spitfire replied, a hint of confusion in her voice.

After a short pause, Soarin expanded on his question, “Has he, I don’t know, given her any merits? What about talks of promotion? Anything?”

That made Blaze cock a brow, and she wondered why Soarin would be interested in asking Spitfire about those things rather than just asking the Colonel himself.

“No, not that I know of.” It seemed Spitfire was also going over the question in her own head, as it was a rather long pause for her to respond with such a simple answer.

“I see.” The stallion responded with a hint of disappointment.

“Why?” Spitfire asked in return.

“Well, she’s been with us for a few years now. A few very long years. And she’s done quite a lot for us, even if it’s been more for the sake of Equestria as a whole; I thought that maybe she deserved...something. For it all, ya’know? That maybe she’d be more than just a single bar by now.” Soarin explained.

What he said was true, for the most part. Rainbow Dash was a lovable and recognizable member of the team, and besides being an international hero, she had done many things for the team out of the sheer goodness of her heart, and her undying loyalty to those she considered friends. She really was due a promotion at this point.

Spitfire seemed to agree, “I’ll ask the Colonel about it next time he comes around. But, it’ll have to be after the tour and—”

Soarin interjected before she could continue, “That’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about, Spits.”

Now that had some weight in his voice, like he had just confessed he had broken a law or taken the cookie from the cookie jar…alright Blaze, get your analogies in line, alright. She thought to herself.

Spitfire didn’t respond, rather letting him continue, “Do you...do you think we could go get dinner tonight?” He asked lowly, barely audible to Blaze where she stood beside the open doorway leading into the shower-hall. It was an odd request, Blaze knew Spitfire and Soarin ate supper in the mess hall every day, what did…

The sudden realization hit her, and her eyes widened. No, he couldn’t have meant it in that way. Not after all these years of ignoring their advances. It didn’t make any sense.

“What, you mean like, out on the town?” Spitfire muttered just as low, equally as confused and surprised as Blaze was.

Soarin simply nodded, “Yeah, I know this little place called Quazos. They got all kinds of good stuff. Been going for years.” He gave a soft chuckle, it was a genuine one, a result of a fond memory perhaps, “So, whatcha say?”

No, there was no bucking way. There was no way that we could just come out and ask Spitfire out on the town. On a date. Not after all these years. All these years of anguish, bitterness, and pride. All the days of uncertainty, all the nights filled with tears. All the thoughts and dreams and visions of a future that would sadly never be. They were all things Blaze had known all too well, even to this day. It was the curse that came with loving someone so much, yet being unable to act upon it, like a cake set before a starving foal just upon a table a few inches higher than themselves. Everything, every single moment, every single memory, every laugh, smile, frown, and tear, came crashing into her mind all at once.

But it was Spitfire’s answer that hurt her the most. The mare didn’t inquire on his intentions, or ask for any context, she didn’t even mention protocol! “Sure.” She said, her tone betraying any level of neutrality she may have tried to convey, it was a dream come true for her, Blaze had not a doubt in that.

It all hit her like a bat to the head, and Blaze felt nauseous and her jaw strained itself with how hard it clenched. It was like she had swallowed a tub of rocks and they had settled themselves in her gut. She felt her hind legs quiver, her forelegs shake, and her ears pinned themselves to the side of her head.

She dropped the towel in her hooves that she hadn’t realized she had been holding much too tight, and turned on a heel and galloped for all she was worth. She was not anywhere near dry, no, her mane was still dripping and frazzled, her fur was still dark and damp in places. Her hooves as they slammed against the tiled floor of the locker room came with the wet slaps of water. Blaze didn’t even care if any of the others saw her dash out of the cramped space, she just hoped her wet mane and it’s drippings hid her tears.

Burn Your Fingers

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.

Lose Hold of the Flame

Cloudsdale was, to the average pony, a great conglomerate of clouds and rainbows which flowed together conveniently to form a sporadic and unorganized place. But, the structure of this city was much more than a bundle of clouds jumbled together, and its history was older than the Princesses themselves. Born aloft upon hundreds, if not thousands, of thick white clouds (and only ones deemed suitable for construction) the city was built within it’s very foundations, for where there were often clouds the size of islands and as deep as mountains, one would find that pegasi didn’t just live on their surfaces, but also in great networks of homes and businesses therein.

Buildings themselves were made of clouds, yes, though one could often be fooled by their appearance. Stone, brick, wood, glass, marble: all these seemed often a material in which homes and shops were built; but upon further inspection one would find that they were all clouds as well, though made with dye to add colors, or different waters were used to enhance texture or strengthen their weave. Windows, when there were any that weren’t just holes that were opened and closed up at their owner’s whim, were also made from clouds, consisting of more air than moisture. Though often there were windows made from panes of crystal imported from the Crystal Empire. Light, sturdy, and more often than not enchanted, they settled perfectly into the buildings here, though they were expensive.

It also came as no surprise that most of these places were also, purposefully or not, almost entirely centered around their usage by pegasi. Doors were often only accessible through balconies, and certain buildings floated entirely upon clouds, completely out of the reach of an earth pony, or a unicorn who lacked the required spells to fly or float. Though, with the more recent policies being influenced by Princess Twilight Sparkle, many aspects of expansion within growing cities and towns were required to consider the limitations and powers of other races, especially in a place like Cloudsdale, and modern architecture showed it with their flat cloud foundations and homes that looked to be ripped right out of a Manehatten suburb.

None of this mattered much to Blaze as they passed through the air of the city, however. Atleast, not at this moment. It was everyday that she was able to bask in the glory of this city in the sky, and she was doing her best to pay much more attention to her peers, and their current conversation.

To her right, flying ever so gracefully, was her sister, Spitfire. She had her purple aviators over her eyes, and was wearing a brown flight jacket that rolled down her forelegs and stopped just before her flanks. Her mane and tail were well groomed and brushed heavily, as was her coat, which shone brightly in the warmth of the spring sun.

Blaze herself was similarly dressed, she had her own pair of plain black sunglasses, and she had on a dark blue coat of a more casual style. Her mane was swaybacked just enough to keep her strands from sticking out as much as they naturally did, and she had made sure to wash with a sweet raspberry shampoo and soap, she also had just a tiny, little bit of eyeliner on. She had really wanted to wear a skirt, but considering the talk she had with Spitfire earlier, it would probably not be such a good idea.

All things considered, even without the skirt, she was pretty done up.

Then, beside Spitfire, flying with strong, powerful strokes, was Soarin. The pale blue stallion had his own flight jacket on, also brown and quite similar to Spitfire’s own. Though his was adorned with dozens of different patches and pins, ranging to anything from Wonderbolt tour patches, to sports team pins, to even bands and event themed ones. It was quite the eyecatcher, and Blaze had caught herself eyeing them during their time together so far. Besides that, he didn’t wear anything else, his emerald eyes free from any coverings, and his mane and tail flowed naturally in the wind.

Perfect. She wanted him to be as natural as possible for when their time came. Perhaps that was the reason she hadn’t put on any more make-up than she had, nor done herself up with any perfume. Well, that and Spitfire’s advice that she go a bit more natural this time around.

“I’m telling you, Spits. Fleetfoot would make a fine commander!” Soarin argued.

Spitfire didn’t agree, “She’s very egoistic, Soarin. She does fine being third, but I don’t know if I’d trust her as my second.”

The two had been debating the fact since they had left the ‘Cloudtop’, a bar and grill in downtown Cloudsdale that the Wonderbolts had chosen to have Soarin’s retirement party. It was a rustic place, a favorite among the stallions in the Bolts; the staff were friendly, they all had a private bar and room all to themselves, with good food and drink to boot. It hadn’t been a long party (Soarin didn’t like lingering around for too long) and since there was going to be a formal ceremony in a few days, everyone involved figured that the afterparty would be a better time to get drunk. Not while having lunch at one in the afternoon.

But that was hours ago, and now the sun was just above the skyline, it had to have been close to six now, and twilight would be peaking on the horizon in just an hour or so. It was all as the sisters had planned, and currently, everything was moving along nicely. No one was drunk, and the stuffiness of the bar with so many ponies jam packed against one another had them quite hot and wet in the fur.

The perfect excuse for them to take Soarin to their current destination: a bathhouse.

Looked down upon by most of the other tribes, the practices of building and bathing within large public spaces were an ancient pegasi tradition, dating back to the times even before the legends of Flash Magnus, or so it was believed. Considering the magic that dwelled within pegasi that allowed them to fly, move clouds, and control weather, the idea of flooding clouds with rainwater into large pools rather than trying to run plumbing to homes was not only much more efficient, but helped strengthen the social bonds of clans, of which many would share a single bathhouse despite feuds or even proxy wars.

The practice was still largely relevant to pegasi today, especially in Cloudsdale, though it was known now in these times that taking a dip in a bathhouse was more akin to taking a trip to the park or heading to the spa, it was done out of leisure, rather than need. But, the bathhouses still served their purposes of being centers for socialization as well as saving ponies a few bits on water bills if they decided to take a bath or clean clothes in the public pools.

Soarin, meanwhile, gave a sly nod, “You’re not wrong, but I’m sure you’ll figure something out, Captain.”

Spitfire rolled her eyes, “Just because you’re out of the Bolts doesn’t mean you need to start bringing rank into things.”

Blaze chuckled lightly under her breath, she had been very giddy throughout the day; not that she was a mare lacking humor, but she typically didn’t giggle or chuckle at any little side jab or joke that was made. If she was to be honest with herself, Blaze put that to her sheer nervousness.

And, oh, how nervous she was, especially now that their destination was within view. It had her heart pounding with the implications of the place fast approaching. She felt that she had much longer to get a hold of herself, considering they had been flying through Cloudsdale for nearly thirty minutes, plus the twenty minute flight outside of Cloudsdale to reach the place before them:

Set into a massive cloud that stretched down into the open air like a glacier to the sea, with solid mass as tall and wide as a mountain, was a large, white (cloud) marble temple. It’s face was embedded into the cloud itself, with only thick columns visibly running along it’s walls to support a thick overhang with a set of stairs that rose high from it’s soft foundation. To anyone else, it was another building trying to replicate the style of the ancient pegasi clans, but to Blaze, and especially to Spitfire, this was an ancient place, wrought with history.

The group landed at the top of the marble stairs, and Soarin gazed around with a sharp eye fueled with a mild curiosity, “So, this is the bathhouse you two use?” His ears flicked at the general silence, and the lack of ponies around, “It seems...kind of deserted.”

Spitfire was to remedy his concerns, “It’s an older one, Soarin. It’s out of town, and not too accessible to the general public. But, me and Blaze have been coming here for years.” She gave him a sly smile, “Trust us, you’ll like it.”

After a moment, he seemed content with her explanation and perked up again, “Well, what are we waiting for?”

At that, the group entered through the thick, wood looking doors and were greeted with a plain, undecorated corridor. It was huge, stretching easily 30 or so feet into the air, and was wide enough for two carriages to be pulled alongside one another. Soft, oil braziers burned in bronze tubs along the walls, emitting a soft warm light throughout the place. Such sources were completely obsolete compared to magical lamps, but Blaze knew the keepers of this house wanted to keep the place ‘historically accurate’, something she could respect.

They were also greeted by a pair of pegasi, a stallion and a mare just shy a few inches shorter than him; both dressed in long, thin togas clasped at the back of their withers. They were both light blue in color, with deep blue mane, and with red irises. The pair had seemingly been idly conversing but had snapped to the trio as they approched, large brimming smiles on their muzzles.

“Welcome, Spitfire and Blaze.” The stallion greeted, “It is always good to have you two back here with us.”

Soarin cocked a brow at the two, but didn’t say anything. Spitfire nodded, wearing her own soft smile, “Cloud Cover, Clear Cover. This is Soarin.” She introduced him.

The pair simply bowed to him, another act that confused the stallion, and Blaze returned it to a degree, “I’d assume he is the guest you have informed us of?” Clear Cover, the mare, stated.

Blaze nodded, “He is.”

Cloud Cover nodded back, “We have prepared a port, at your request. You will find your commodities there. Please, if you need any assistance, let us know.”

“Thank you.” Spitfire replied simply, and ushered Soarin forward.

The trio trotted down the hall and were greeted by the entrance of a small room filled with rows of benches and some trunks. Just across from where they had entered was a T corridor where it split off left and right, “We undress in here, and dry off when we’re done.” Spitfire explained.

Soarin gazed around, seemingly surprised by just how open the entire floor plan was so far, but he didn’t waste a moment taking off his jacket, and placing it over a trunk, “Who were those two? Were they twins?” He inquired. Blaze watched him closely, his fur slightly matted and damp where the jacket had been.

“No, they’re siblings, yes, but they paint their fur and manes to respect the tradition of the bathhouse caretakers, something about representing the water and rains or something. The togas are supposed to be clouds.” Spitfire answered as she stripped as well. She was even worse off than Soarin, considering her thick flight jacket was meant to help with high altitude temperatures, she had been sweating heavily during their time at the party, though their flight seemed to have helped in cooling her off.

Blaze worked on herself, taking her coat off and folding it neatly on a marble-cloud bench, it was almost time.

Finishing up in the undressing room, they led Soarin down the other hall.Turning right they were immediately assaulted by a feeling of dwarfism. Where they stood was an astonishing feat of ancient pegasi architecture. The chamber was easily 100 yards in length, and easily half that in width. Carved out of the cloud itself this massive room was unlike the rest of the place that they had seen so far which was largely bare and lacking in decor, the place looked like it was ripped right out of Canterlot palace.

The walls were carved with murals and other intricate artworks, massive columns rose along the chamber’s edges and curved up into the high ceiling, which also featured paintings of various types and forms. Some were stories of pegasi mythos, others were epics of heroes from times long past, and a few were a bit more...intimate. ‘Tales of Fertility’ some would call them. But, the main attraction, and what was undoubtedly the most breathtaking, was the massive pool in the center of the place. Waterfalls flowed from thin rectangular cutouts in the ceiling, running along carved places in the walls and flowing softly into the pool, here and there were small islands within, strangely adorned with soft, red pads of dyed clouds. And the water, oh, the water was as clear as the finest gems, with a hue of light blue due to the colored surface of it’s tub. Here and there were also chambers carved where water flowed under thick white curtains.

Blaze couldn’t help but smile as she basked in the sight, and from her sneak at Soarin, neither could he.

“Woah.” She heard the stallion mutter, “If I had known this place was a bathhouse, I would have been coming here for years!” His emerald eyes glittered as he gazed across the waters of the house.

Blaze shrugged, “Not many ponies know it is a bathhouse. And, if I’m going to be honest, we like it that way. We’ve been coming here for a few years, it's a nice place, roomy, and remote enough for the papers not to think of coming out here.” She looked over to Spitfire who was waiting for her to finish her little tangent, a sly smirk on her face.

“We can give him the history lesson in our reserve, sis.” Spitfire chuckled as she started trotting along to their ‘reserve.’

Blaze felt her cheeks rose over, and she nodded, “Yeah, yeah.” She agreed. The mare took hold of Soarins hoof, his ears peaking in surprise as she did, and Blaze guided him along the soft, real tiled edge of the pool, following after Spitfire. It was a bold move on her part, but he offered no resistance, though he still had a confused look on his face, “I can walk, you know.” He chuckled.

Blaze smiled, “I know.”

They made their way to the first sectioned off area to the left. Spitfire held the curtain aside for the two, and they passed under it’s heavy sheet. On the other side was a small room, almost claustrophobic compared to the huge open space of the main chamber. As with the outside area there was a little walkway that wrapped around where a small stream connected the water from the main reservoir into a little circular pool within this room. The edges around this pool, which looked much like a sauna tub though lacking in steam and the light whirl of mechanical pipes and such, were padded with velvety soft clouds that were dyed a pleasant sky blue.

“Huh, now I can see why you two like this place.” Soarin commented, gazing around the space that had been reserved for the trio. It would be very difficult for paparazzi or journalists to try and sneak around and snap a few pictures without the risk of interrupting a family or couple’s personal time.

Spitfire closed the curtain and trotted past them, “Yeah, it’s very shut in. Nopony should bother us.” She trotted up to a part of the pool that had a few steps to safely get in and out of the water. It was a rather deep tub, the water could easily reach halfway up her barrel, though her hooves would still be able to touch the floor. But always better safe than sorry. She swirled a hoof around in the water, barely wetting it, and nodded, “Come on over here sis, water’s nice.”

Blaze knew that was her queue, and she trotted past Soarin, making sure to playfully swish her tail a few times and she followed after her sister, stepping down into the pool. The water was cold at first, but as they descended it felt warmer and warmer. Not as nice as she liked her showers, but it was a respectable temperature. It felt good against the tips of her wings, which twitched at the contact.

Spitfire dipped her head under the water and rose again, her mane wet and glistening as it ran down along her withers and over her face. Blaze did the same, making sure to dramatize her dive and rise, letting her own mane, which was just barely an inch or so longer than Spitfire’s own, slap against her neck, and she looked back at Soarin, who was watching with that kind, but still neutral gaze of his, and waved her hoof, “Come on!” She ushered him over.

He smiled deeper, and it was a short trot before he was also lowering himself into the water, giving off a soft sigh especially as it touched his wings. He settled himself next to the edge, resting his back on the strange pads, “So, uh, where’s the soaps and stuff?” Soarin asked, looking around at their small space, “Usually the staff give us complementary stuff at the house I go to, but, I’m not seeing anything around here.” It was true, most bathhouses prohibited ponies using their own personals, and instead provided clean towels, brushes, soaps, and shampoos, the soap being specifically made to kill bacteria on contact, with their suds also cleaning the water of the pools. But so far, there hadn’t been any sign of any of these usual givens.

Spitfire smirked, and she reached into some unseen cubby hidden by one of the pads, and pulled out a few bars of soap, one for each of them, as well as some little bottles of shampoos and conditioners, setting them on the edge of the pool.

Soarin shrugged, “Huh, that’s convenient.” As he watched Spitfire hoof one off to Blaze, and then wadded her way over to Soarin. He reached out to take it, but Spitfire kept it just out of reach. The stallion cocked a brow in confusion, and Blaze soon stood on his left, her sister flanking his right.

“No, let us.” The two sisters said simultaneously. Lathering the soap and starting to run it along him, starting with his barrel.

“Hey, hey now mares. I can wash myself, thank you very much.” He sputtered, a slight blush on his blue cheeks, as he snatched one of the soaps from their hooves, “Besides, I was thinking I’ll just...sit and enjoy the water here a bit.”

The two sisters looked to each other, and Blaze bit her lip at the fact that he hadn’t taken the bait fully, besides getting a slight blush out of the stallion. But Spitfire gave her a nod barely visible, they had gone over this a hundred times, they had a plan. Just because he didn’t take to ‘A’ didn’t mean they didn't have a ‘B’.

“Alright, well we’re going to start on ourselves then.” Spitfire said calmly, and she wadded, soap in wing, opposite to Soarin, and Blaze followed. She took a few deep breaths, she just needed to remember what they practiced.

It started off slow, they wet their sponges and lathered themselves up, cleaning out the sweat and grime from the long day of eating and socializing. Blaze watched her sister intently, how she exaggerated her movements, twisting her flank to and fro, and squeezing her chest towards Soarin, her tuft puffing out for all the world to see. But, she never focused on him, rather keeping her eyes to herself, as if all her movements were entirely from her effort to wash herself.

Blaze followed along, pressing her shoulders together as she washed her golden tuft, and ran her hooves along her barrel, her competitive streak showing through a bit as she did her best to match Spitfire’s movements, though adding her own little twists and turns. She couldn’t help but gaze at Soarin, who seemed to be more interested in a bottle of conditioner.

Blowing air through her nose, she looked to Spitfire, who was now running her hooves through her wet tail, “Hey sis, I think I got a few loose feathers. Think you could help me out?” She asked loudly, hoping to catch the stallion’s attention.

Spitfire looked to her, and gave a sly smile, “Sure, sis. Sure.”

Blaze turned her back to her sister as she wadded her way over, and presented her wings out proudly. She felt her sister’s wet muzzle running along the edges of her primaries, and Blaze shuttered as she took one in her teeth. She didn’t really have any loose feathers really, considering she had preened before the party, but it did feel really good, considering the primaries were the most sensitive.

Spitfire then ran her muzzle down the arm of her wing to the joint, “Wow, sis. You really are tense. Is the water too cold for you?” She smirked. Blaze didn’t answer, knowing where her sister was going with this. She soon felt her sisters soaked hooves rest themselves on her back, and she started running them along her length. Blaze shuddered at the contact, and her wings stretched out even more than they had already, granting her sister more access.

She started on her wings slowly, massaging the muscle and aligning a feather here and there. But then she got to her joints, pressing on them hard with the hard tips of her hooves. It was the very embodiment of pain and pleasure, and Blaze moaned outwardly as jolts ran up her spine. “Don’t be too loud sis, somepony might hear us.” She purred.

Blaze grunted as more bolts assaulted her mind, “And when has that stopped us before?”

Spitfire smiled toothly, “You’re right.” Blaze suddenly felt her sister’s hot breath on the back of her damp neck, “How about we...entertain instead.” And then she nipped her neck.

Blaze was red hot, and the assault on her wings had taken a heavy toll on her, but when her sister bit her, that threw her into a whirlwind. She moaned again, and turned to face her twin, who’s eyes were half lidded with a sultry smile, her own wings quite erect. Her fiery eyes gazed into Blaze’s own cool purple ones, and her fur glittered with the drops of a thousand diamonds, her mane dripping stars. Blaze didn’t care who was there, or if Soarin was even watching, she needed this beautiful mare, and she rushed forth and their muzzles collided.

It seemed Spitfire had been ready for it, as she opened her mouth immediately and brought a hoof to the back of her sister’s head as they sucked lip. Blaze invaded her sister’s wet mouth, and their broad tongues collided, a faint taste of rum and soda on Spitfire’s mixed with the small hint of strawberry daiquiri on Blaze’s. They wrestled for dominance, though Spitfire proved to be the most experienced on the matter, and always seemed to manage to get on top despite Blaze’s best efforts.

Their kiss broke for a short moment to suck in much needed air, a thin strand of saliva still connecting them for a moment, before going back in for seconds. Blaze focused on the kiss, and let Spitfire guide her to the edge of the pool, where she laid herself upon one of the padded edges. The sisters broke again, Blaze on her back with Spitfire over her, their back hooves barely dangling into the water now as they soaked the pad and rubbed their wet fur into each other, “You have a strange idea of what entertainment means, sis.” Spitfire breathed, “I like it.”

Blaze simply responded with another deep kiss, their hooves exploring each other's body for not the first time, but despite all their practice sessions, this one felt...different. Not that it was anymore special between the siblings, no, but it was like describing the difference between practicing for a show, and actually performing. In essence it was the same, but the fact that it was show time, made it ever more exhilarating.

Especially when your crowd was the stallion of your dreams.

Speaking of whom, Blaze turned her head to the side, and saw Soarin was still sitting there, though he was now beet red, and his eyes were wide in surprise. He hadn’t gotten up and stormed out, which was a good sign. Perhaps the leaves were starting to take effect? Because Blaze sure felt like there was a fire between her thighs, especially without the water there to cool her.

“Now time for act two.” Spitfire purred. Jumping back off her sister, landing back into the water with a splash, Blaze arched her back as she felt Spitfire’s hot breath tickle her soaked marehood. The fiery mare didn’t waste any time running her broad tongue along her sister’s edge, licking her drenched fur, and Blaze threw a foreleg over her eyes, focusing on the pleasure she was gifted.

Spitfire attacked with efficient ferocity, lapping at Blaze’s inner walls and drinking in her sister’s nectar; the overwhelming scent of cinnamon wafting up and embedding itself into Blaze’s nostrils. But she didn’t really think of anything in this moment, her mind blank as she was overwhelmed by waves of pleasure slamming into her skull like a hammer to a rock. She didn’t care that it was her own sister eating her out, she didn’t care that they were in a public bathhouse with little more than a curtain to hide their lovemaking, and she especially didn’t care that Soarin was watching every second of it, Tartarus, that just turned her on even more. The fire in her crotch burning with increased intensity.

If only Soarin would come over, push Spitfire out of the way, and take her himself. His wide muzzle and broad tongue drinking her up until he’s had his fill. Then he’d slap his hot stallionhood on her belly, rubbing nicely against her clit, before plunging it in without a care in the world. He’d ravage her, using her pussy for all it was worth. Faster and faster and faster.

Blaze bit her forelegs as she came, her walls contracting and clenching around the rod that wasn’t there. Spitfire hummed in satisfaction as she swallowed her sister’s essence as it rushed forth along her tongue and into her mouth. Smacking her lips, she left her sister to recover as she eyed the stallion behind them, “I’m sure she was thinking about you.” She chuckled.

Soarin, meanwhile, was beet red, a rare sight for anypony, even to the two sisters who had known him since their foal days, and Spitfire saw that he was packing quite the hard-on. “Come on Soarin, you can’t tell me you don’t like what you see.” Spitfire asserted.

He was silent for a long moment, and he eventually looked between Spitfire, and a now distant eyed Blaze, “Look Spits...I…” He paused, and his tone had Spitfire faltering a bit, “...I know you two have liked me, for a long time.”

Spitfire’s ears perked, and Blaze blinked away her fireworks at his words, “You knew!?” They both echoed.

The stallion nodded, “I’ve known since high school. It’s not hard to miss. Tartarus, most of the team knows. Especially Fleet.” It was like the two mares had been punched in the gut, but they didn’t say anything, not yet at least, “I didn’t want to jeopardize our dreams of being Wonderbolts, considering Protocol 9 and all that. I also didn’t want to come between you two.” He looked between the mares, “To choose one and leave the other out in the cold. I...just couldn’t do it. Not to those I care so much about.” His eyes looked away, distant.

Spitfire gave Blaze a knowing look, “Well, I wouldn’t worry about that, Soarin.”

The stallion looked back at them, a brow cocked, “But I thought it was against Equestrian law for siblings to marry?”

Spitfire smiled, it was cute that he was already thinking about marriage, and he’d barely confessed his feelings, “We found a loophole in the laws. Back in the day, pegasi clans would often intermarry to keep bloodlines pure. Usually it was just between cousins, or aunts and uncles. But it wasn’t unheard of for brothers and sisters to marry.” She looked back over at Blaze, “And technically, since it was never abolished legally, so long as the siblings are pegasi, it’s legal.”

“So that would explain why you two don’t have any qualms...pleasing each other.” He stood up in his place, his erection slapping his stomach audibly, and wadded his way towards Spitfire, “If that’s the case, it seems you’ve got all grounds covered. And since I’m no longer a Wonderbolt...Protocol 9 no longer applies to me.” He was dangerously close to her now, “So...that means I can do this.”

He lunged forward and his wide muzzle collided with Spitfires. Her wings twitched and her face went bright red as she melted into him like butter on a hot pan. Blaze stood up, Soarin’s words still bouncing in her head, and she bit her lip as she watched the sizable stallion make out with her sister. They grabbed and groped at each other, feeling every inch, nook and cranny of their bodies, their tongues visibly battling within their cheeks, like lovers long denied the others touch, which after all, they were.

Their lips broke contact as Soarin pushed Spitfire up on a pad, similar to how she had done to Blaze, and he dragged his broad tongue along her wet body, nuzzling her tuft, kissing her stomach, and nipping at the flesh just above her own marehood, her golden lips puffy and rosey from her own heat. It was artificial, Blaze knew. They had stuck Fireleaves into their last couple drinks, the plant worked to fire off pheromones that brought a mare into heat. Spitfire had told her about Soarin’s eagerness to settle down and start a family, so they were going to give him one.

Spitfire panted and moaned as Soarin lapped at her, savoring her taste, “Beautiful.” Blaze heard him mutter, and she felt her hoof lower itself down at the sight. Spitfire arched her back, and threw her forearms around the back of his head, her legs crossing to keep him there to attack her entrance. Her jaw slacked, and she let out a quivering moan as she came. Fluid gushing forth and splattering on the stallions face and dripping into the water below.

The light blue stallion retracted his muzzle, and gazed over to Blaze, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.” He left Spitfire to ride out her high, and lowered himself to her lips. She spread her legs for him almost instinctively. Oh dear Celestia this was it.

Blaze froze up as he ran his tongue along her engorged lips, and rolled her nectar along his tongue, “You know, you taste a lot like your sister. Cinnamon.” Blaze knew that was a side effect from the Fireleaves, but she’d let him have his fun guessing, and focus on him eating her out. But he didn’t go down on her with his muzzle, no, he rose away from it, much to Blaze’s dismay, and leaned down where his muzzle was nearly touching hers, “Don’t tell Spitfire this…” He whispered, “But I’ve always liked your eyes more.” He chuckled. Blaze felt her heart soar, and to think she had wished to have her sister’s eyes!

“And another thing.” He ran a hoof along one of her wings, making her shudder, “I know about all the times you’ve masterbated next to my pod.” Blaze felt her face light up like a Hearth’s Warming ornament, “And in the showers back in school, and on the flights, and…”

“Alright! I get it.” Blaze whined, hundreds of memories of her shamefully getting off at his mere presence alone, much less when she heard him sing, or managed to steal glances of his wet form. It was before she decided to start avoiding him, back in the early days of the Bolts.

The stallion chucked contagiously, “I’m honestly flattered. Not even Spits was so bold to do such things.” He leaned down, his breath on her nose, “And I think it should be rewarded.”

Blaze felt his hips buck back, and then she felt it: his member, hot and pulsing as it slapped against her entrance, resting upon her crotch and poking him still. She gulped, it was large, easily above average from what she could feel, but it was his, and she was ready to deal with whatever pain was to come.

He pulled back a bit, a hoof grasping his rod, “You ready?” He breathed. And she couldn’t help but just dumbly nod. Soarin responded with a deep kiss, but pulled away just as soon as it started, and she felt his round head poke at her entrance, and the pressure sucked the air from her lungs.

Feeling the sheer wetness of her marehood, he plunged himself deeper and deeper, sighing at the feeling of her velvety walls. Blaze grasped at the stallion’s neck, a much needed support in this moment of pure ecstasy. Soon his medial ring bumped into her tight lips, he was only half-way in!? She felt so full already, there was no way he was going to fit completely in.

Soarin didn’t seem to accept such a fact, and he bucked his hips a few times until his thick ring pushed itself past her walls, Blaze whining as she was stretched out even wider than before. At least he was taking it slow, unlike many of her other lays and one-night-stands she had in the past, mostly following fits of drunken stupor, and always in her mind was it Soarin who was rutting her.

But now it was the real thing, his head poking against her cervix bringing her out of her depressing memories and back into this wonderful reality. He was breathing deeply, savoring the feeling of her, and Blaze was fine with that. She was filled completely, like a puzzle that's been incomplete for too long, and which now finally had it’s missing piece placed therein. She could lay here all day, just basking in the feeling between them, and she would be content.

Then he started pulling out, dragging his length back, ruining the feeling as he left just his tip in, just to buck himself forward, his member ramming into her hard. Blaze recoiled and tightened her grip on her lover, and quivered under his thrusts. He was going much faster now, pulling out and quickly filling her again and again. She whimpered as her sensitive flesh was assaulted, “O-oh...sweet Celestia don’t stop.”

Soarin grunted, “Wasn’t...wasn’t planning on it.” He groaned as her walls clenched down on him.

Oh merciful Sisters, he was really working it. She could feel the pressure of her climax building, and from his growing intensity and sporadic rhythm and quick breaths she had a feeling he was reaching it as well. Blaze weakly ran her hooves to his face, and guided his glowing emerald eyes to her own amethyst ones, the gems of their irises twinkling in pleasure, “C-cum in me.” Blaze pleaded, “Fill me up. Make me a mother.”

She didn’t know if it was her tone, her words, or it’s implications, but his thrusts increased ten-fold, his heavy balls slapping against her as the sounds of their lovemaking echoed loudly throughout the room. His breath, overwhelming her with the scent of spice and cinnamon filled the air she breathed, and she drew him down to kiss him as stars flashed across her eyes as she came, her pussy milking him for all he was worth. Soarin slammed into her one more time before his hot length pulsed strongly as rope after thick rope of cum shot into her vunerable womb, filling it to the near brim and leaking out into her tunnel.

They stayed there, connected in both body and mind, and they broke the kiss to suck in much needed breath, and Soarin managed out a few words, “You...you were amazing.” He licked his lips, “Beautiful, beautiful I should say.” Blaze didn’t respond, riding out her high, though she twitched as he pulled out his soft length, the audible slaps of his cum hitting the water as it ran from her abused tunnel, “You know...you two never did tell me what this place is.”

“It’s called the Rainwell.” Blaze lazily turned to see her sister there, her face red and her wings stiff as a steel rod, a hoof between her legs, “It’s the oldest bathhouse in Cloudsdale. It’s waters running from the core of the cloud, it’s believed to cleanse evil, grant good luck, whatever.” She panted as she flicked her clit as she pleasured herself, “B-but...it’s mostly believed that...fornicating in it’s waters...ahh...will bless the foals with strong traits and...Oh!...mares with healthy births.”

Soarin looked down to Blaze, “So that’s why the murals...and the curtains...and the padding…” She simply nodded to each of his notes, and he licked his lips, “I see.”

“Well, you did say you wanted to s-start a family.” Spitfire hissed as her back arched.

The stallion cocked a brow, “So this was you two’s plan all along?”

“Yesss.” Blaze half groaned, half moaned as she ran her hooves along her stomach.

After a moment, Soarin shrugged, “Gotta’ admit. It worked out pretty well.”

“I know right?” Spitfire nodded as she removed her slick wet hoof and spread her legs, “Now get over here and rut me, stud.”

Soarin smirked, “Aye, aye, cap’n.”

Blaze felt herself roll over and lower herself into the water. Soarin was atop Spitfire now, similar to how he had rutted Blaze a moment ago, tickling his now hard member against her red lips. “Come on, give it to me!” Spitfire demanded.

He obeyed not a second later as he penetrated her. A shrill scream filled the chamber as he plunged himself halfway into her with one powerful thrust. Wow, Blaze never took her sister for a screamer…

Crawling her way towards them, the splashing of water and the slaps of wet bodies against bodies started up quickly, Blaze lifted herself out and laid beside her sister, who didn’t even acknowledge her sister as she leaned down and filled her screaming mouth with her own, as awkward as the near-upside down kiss was, it just felt right.

--s--

From her place peaking through a thin crack in the curtain, Clear Cover basked in the sight before her, and what quite the sight it was! Soarin was going hard on Spitfire, ravaging her with quite the ferocity for a stallion his age. Meanwhile, the Captain of the Wonderbolts couldn’t do anything but take the dicking and moan as she ate out her sister Blaze. Licking at a sloppy creampie seeping out of her near carbon copied mare’s slit. Blaze, meanwhile, made-out messily with the stallion as he assaulted Spitfire’s entrance. The mating chamber was filled with groans of exertions and moans of ecstasy, and the very air was a thick soup of pheromones and cinnamon spices.

“I’m guessing he took the bait?” Clear turned to see her brother, Cloud Cover, standing there neutrally, his ears swiveling slightly at each moan that was expelled from the trio hidden behind the curtain. And hidden they were, the enchantments on them hiding any silhouettes to give tell of the ponies within, and did well to hide any sounds, voices, and smells that would seep out. But, with her sister holding the curtain open just a few centimeters, it was enough for some faint cries to be heard.

Clear went back to spying, watching as Soarin clenched his flanks and thrust his thick member into her with an animalistic groan, followed by a shrill scream heard from Spitfire even through her sister’s messy pussy. Then there were the soft splashes of excess cum on the water as his baby matter flowed from the mare’s abused tunnel. Even from here Clear could see the sheer amount that he had pumped into her, his seed white as snow and thick as glue, healthy and ready to fertilize anything it touched.

Yep, they were pregnant alright.

Clear closed the curtain and turned to Cloud fully this time, “I’d say so.” She said in response to his earlier question.

He nodded, “So the plan worked?”

She smiled, “Oh, without a doubt. They’ll be pumping out foals faster than a pegasus can say, ‘Angíxte ton Ílio’.” She approached him, their painted muzzles almost touching, “I know something you can pump into me, little bro.” She purred as she turned, running her sticky tail under his muzzle.

Cloud licked his lips and followed his sister. It was going to be a rough night.

It's Over, It's Done

Blaze was freaking out. Shifting her shoulders in her purple gown, an equally purple veil over her face, she was basically trembling in her dark blue sabots. The room rumbled with the murmurs of the seated crowds flanking the aisle. The entirety of the Wonderbolts were here, seated together in suits and dresses, all in a shared style; even Fire Streak had come all the way out from Vanhoover with his family to attend! Then there were the Elements, invited by extension through Rainbow Dash, and all the families and friends that wished to attend. Blaze spotted Soarin’s parents among them: Tipper Tap and Clipper. They were both seated in the front, wearing warm smiles that they seemed to have given their son. The two seats that would have been saved for the parents of the brides were vacant however.

So many faces, so many ponies she knew.

Blaze felt the warm touch of a hoof on her shoulder, and she looked to her right to see her sister, Spitfire, there. She was wearing a suit, dark blue, with gold highlights with a red color, bulging slightly at the stomach. She had on military jacks on her hind legs, and some light blue sabots on her forelegs, one of which was on the ground after she had taken it off to caress her shoulder. Overall, a direct contrast to Blaze’s own long, more traditional mare’s wedding dress. Spitfire wore a deep smile, one that said without words, ‘It’s going to be fine.’

After a moment, Blaze responded with a reassured nod. She was reminded of who she was. She was a Wonderbolt! She wasn’t supposed to get ‘limp wing!’ She was supposed to eat fear for lunch, and crowds for dinner! (She suddenly had a hit of deja vu.) But, most importantly, she was her sister. The love they shared could conquer even the greatest of obstacles. So let them come.

With the sound of an organ playing, and the murmuring stopping under the shrill of the pipes, they knew it was time. The rose red doors of the chapel were swiftly opened by two royal guards in gleaming bronze armor, and stepping forward was Soarin. Dressed in a nice light grey suit, his hair slicked back and shining in the light of the sun that beamed down through the windows of the palace chapel, his emerald eyes caught the two sisters instantly, and his smile beamed as he made his way down the aisle; accompanied by Thunderlane, his best-stallion.

Blaze watched him make his way towards the altar, it was a foreign sight. Typically, the mare walked the aisle, but in cases such as theirs, where the herd was dominated by mares, the stallion walked the aisle. Not that it mattered to her much, it’s just something she never thought would happen to her personally, yet here they were.

Soarin made it up to the altar and stood opposite of the twins, flanked by Thunderlane, who looked happy just to be here. And from behind the white curtain behind them, Princess Twilight Sparkle strode out, a white and gold sash around her withers. She approached the altar and cleared her throat into her foreleg, “Thank you, everypony for attending this gathering to bond these three ponies in marriage. Before we begin, if there is anypony that would wish to speak as to why these ponies may not be bonded in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

Blaze, knowing her luck, figured that would be the moment that their disowned mother would bust down the door and start up a fuss, but it never happened and no one else in the crowd dared mutter a word.

Taking the silence as a no, Twilight continued, “Then we shall continue.” She turned to Spitfire first, “Captain Spitfire, do you pledge to take this mare, Commander Blaze, and this stallion, Soarin, to be your lawfully wedded wife and husband, to be kind, unselfish, loyal, respectful, and trustworthy to them and those that may have yet to come?”

Spitfire nodded deeply, her eye-gloss glittering in the light, “I do.”

The purple princess turned to Blaze, “Commander Blaze, do you pledge to take this mare, Captain Spitfire, and this stallion Soarin, to be your lawfully wedded wife and husband, to be kind, unselfish, loyal, respectful, and trustworthy to them and those that may have yet to come?”

Blaze smiled and sharply nodded, “I do, Princess.”

Then Twilight turned to Soarin, who stood there with that deep contagious smile of his, “Soarin, do you pledge to take these mares, Captain Spitfire and Commander Blaze, to be your lawfully wedded wives, to be kind, unselfish, loyal, respectful, and trustworthy to them and those that may have yet to come?”

Not a second later his eyes darted between the siblings, “I do.”

Twilight stepped back and addressed the trio as one, “To this I then call witness to everypony here, that this trio of lovers be held to these words of bondage in marriage from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, in life and in death.” Her horn glowed and out lifted a small box of dull blue and iron bands, opening it revealed three strings, of white silk joined with a clamp; hung from each was a single primary feather from each pony, Soarin’s pale blue one in the middle, and Spitfire’s and Blaze’s flanking it, “Take these and wear them with love and pride.”

They did so, Blaze taking her’s and unclipping it and hanging it from her wing, with Spitfire’s help of course, such was part of the ceremony. Once the trio had them fastened, Twilight continued, “Now, by the power invested in me as Princess of Equestria, I now pronounce this herd ‘Blazing Fire’ and it’s members husband and wives. You all may now kiss.”

Now this was the moment they hadn’t rehearsed. Blaze lifted her veil, and gave her sister a sly smirk, one Spitfire returned with interest, and they gave Soarin a predatory look.

He gulped.

Author's Note

Hope everyone enjoyed this little number. Took me a bit over a month to complete, and with it being my first ever clopfic, I had to do a lot of revisions. But for a newbie I'd like to think it's pretty good.

Do give me feedback and criticisms, be they good, bad, or ugly! Otherwise, thanks for reading, cheers!