Pegasi of a Father

Zipp brushed her way passed her sister, tears burning the edge of her eyes. Somewhere, in her heart of hearts, she knew that Pipp was right. Their father wasn’t dead. No conclusive evidence proved that. All they had was a torn up note that could have been written by some pony else entirely. Still, though, Zipp just couldn’t accept something that was so…incredulously suspicious. Her better instincts wouldn’t allow it. An internal war was fast brewing within the young Pegasus princess. Her mind whirled as she rushed into the quarters she shared with three of her best friends in the whole world.

This can’t be happening, she thought as she maneuvered into her desk area. It was populated with mementos from all the cases she’d solved since moving to Maretime Bay. There was the picture from when she’d cracked the case of Posey’s missing artwork. Then, there was an autographed buckball from where her talents had solved the mystery of the Maretime Buckball League cheating scandal. Finally, there was her most prized memento…a song written by her sister that spoke of her detecting skills. Yes, the lyrics were somewhat corny, but it was from her sister’s heart.

You and I might not agree on music, Zipp thought as she looked at the music sheet and smiled, but that one was a certified banger.

Her thoughts of her sibling were suddenly interrupted by her patriarchal problem. Memories of her father shot through her mind. They were so abrupt that they knocked her off her hooves, and she sat down sharply. She saw her father, the king of Zephyr Heights, smiling at her when she was a small filly. Clips played in her head of she and him playing together, of him taking her to see the different sights of Zephyr Heights, and of royal family outings. Her lip quivered as she remembered the song he used to sing to her and Pipp before they went to sleep. In fact, it had evolved into the song that she and her sister sang each other every Portrait Day.

Once more, the tears came as more memories flooded her consciousness. She saw the days when she and her father had visited the races together. While Pipp and Queen Haven had never been much for such affairs, she and her father were inveterate fans. Not only were they bound by their love of Pegasi racing, but they were also bound by their love of all sports. But Zipp was especially interested in the power of flight, since they were ponies with wings, yet without this magic. She thought that the races would be a lot more exciting if her Pegasi brethren could mount up and soar through the skies.

“Daddy, why can’t we fly?” She had asked him one day.

“Well, my love…I don’t really know,” he said. “I know there was a time, back in the ancient past, when the Pegasi flew with the agility of falcons and the strength of eagles. But…I’m afraid…we’ve lost that ability.”

“So…will we ever fly again?”

“I hope so, darling,” her father said. “I certainly hope so…”

…If only you could see us now, she thought as her eyes finally let loose their dams. Words cannot describe how much I miss you, father.

Out of all of the members of the royal family, Zipp had taken her father’s sudden disappearance the hardest. The press corps had been especially invasive in their efforts to get to the heart of the story. Palace security did everything they could, but the reporters were dangerously determined and horribly creative. Soon enough, Zipp and Pipp were ordered into hiding just to protect them from any nagging questions. For two weeks, they remained locked in their quarters, receiving their meals from the outside and garnering daily affirmations from their extremely distressed mother. The pallor that was constantly current in Haven’s face only made itself known during this time, and it had grown worse ever since.

Where are you, Dad? Zipp thought.

“Hey, sis, you okay?” Came the voice of Zipp’s sister as she entered the room. “I mentioned dad’s name, and you kinda…got super angry.”

Zipp didn’t turn around. She didn’t want Pipp to see her tears. “I’m sorry,” she said in a voice thickened by years of pain. “I’m so sorry…”

Pipp trotted up and sat down, hovering one of her pink wings over Zipp’s shoulder and letting it light ever so slightly. “Hey…it’s okay.”

Zipp sniffed. “No, it’s not. I…I’m not supposed to be this. I’m not supposed to be a blubbering mess.”

“Zipp, I’ve got a bit of a news flash for you. You’re a pony. Ponies cry sometimes. I mean, did you really expect to go your entire life without shedding a single tear?”

Zipp shook her head and furrowed her brows. “No…but…I just…hate it. I hate this with a passion, Pipp. I never wanted Dad brought up…I just…I can’t take it. He and I were so close, and to think that he might have taken a knife to his own throat is…I…”

Pipp nuzzled close to her big sister as tears began burning her own eyes. “I know…I don’t want to think of it, either. I have nightmares about it…I see him…and then there’s this glint…and afterwards…I see nothing but blood. Then, I awake and my pillow is drenched. Oh, Zipp, we’ve just got to find him! I can’t believe that he’d do that to himself…and I know you don’t buy that, either.”

“You’re right,” Zipp said, straightening up. “I don’t…I don’t buy that BS explanation one bit! But…where do we start?”

“You’re the detective,” Pipp said. “Surely, you know somewhere to begin.”

Zipp thought for a moment and then trotted to her desk, a determined look on her face. She began rummaging through a drawer, seeking something that she’d kept private for a very long time. Papers flew as she thought of her father, and the mere wisp of a possibility of seeing him again pushed her further and further. Finally, at the bottom of the compartment, she saw it. It was right where she’d left it when she and Pipp moved into the Bright House moons before. She hadn’t removed it, because she didn’t want to experience the sadness and pain she’d been carrying.

“Found it!” She said.

“What?” Pipp asked.

Zipp dug it out and turned it around. “Now, Pipp…I’ve never shown this to you. This is something that I keep very near to my heart.”

“Aw…” Pipp said, “…is it from some special somepony?”

Zipp’s cheeks burned. “Well…it is from someone special…but it’s not the type of relationship you’re thinking of.”

“Darn it,” Pipp said.

“It’s much more important than that,” Zipp said. “This, my dear sister, is the last remaining remnant of King Thunderbolt.”

Pipp gasped. “Wait…you mean…”

“That’s right,” Zipp said, “this is a letter from our father.”