The removal of the live-reader count has emboldened me to return to somewhat more episodic chapter lengths as opposed to going for gargantuan, daunting sizes. This may spur be to output more with the same or higher quality and at a faster rate. Let's see where it takes us!

Furthermore, Eppie could not look over the chapter this time, so I edited myself. May have been one or two things I missed. Please PM me for any corrections/errors needing fixing, if you find any and feel so inclined; no sense wasting comment space on them

On to part 10!

The relative silence of the west wing of the Sabre house was annihilated by the powerful crack of Stella’s room-door being booted open. The door swung inward and the inside handle slammed against the inner-most wall, likely adding another millimeter to the already-present divot, if not already a hole.

“Well, here we are!” the matriarch of the room proclaimed, and reached into the familiar, welcoming darkness along the aforementioned inner wall.

Fredrick casually noted the subtle indentation by the doorframe exactly where she kicked, as well as the strike plate worn, dented, and morphed from time and abuse.

There, Stella felt around until she found exactly what she was looking for: the dial that controlled the illumination crystals and magical candles. Turning it to the right, her room was now doused in a soothing, artificial lavender light. The crystals themselves could not be seen, and were likely embedded in the walls, just like the rest of the house, as far as Fredrick was concerned.

Stella beckoned everypony inside with a tilt of her head, but Sveta had to make a quick stop, to which her sister had something to say as she strode on by.

“Oi! Where ya goin’, Tits McColt?” she questioned.

Fredrick let out a single, stifled, high-pitched chortle at Sveta’s implicit nickname and its painfully obvious, underlying reasonings.

Thus far from the maybe ten minutes of interaction he had had with Stella’s family, their dynamic was one of the most entertaining he had ever seen… akin to if Braveheart was a sitcom. Also thus far, Stella and Sveta demonstrated a strong, yet very sisterly bond if their unrelenting banter was any indication; two superpowers not attempting to topple the other, but merely prod each other for the ‘lulz.’

Politics.

Knowing what he knew about her sister, Sveta would not take Stella’s words lying down.

“Droppin’ by me room fer two seconds. I’ll be back; shut yer cockholster. A-An’ keep yer knickers on while I’m gone, slag. Think ye can handle it?” she riposted with equal measure as she continued down the hall.

Stella twirled her fingers exaggeratedly around one of her bangs, and in a sing-song tone, replied:

“No guarantees~!”

Stella huffed and yanked Fredrick into her room by his shirt collar, where she then spread her arms wide in grandiose gesticulation.

“Fredrick, welcome to me sex dunge—ahem… me room!” she declaimed, then proceeded to throw herself onto her bed with a nostalgic sigh.

With the initial introduction over, Fredrick allowed his eyes to adjust to the new light and roam over Stella’s room… her domain.

He had been to her barracks before to shoot the shit, as it were, and her room bore perhaps causal similarity to her ‘work room.’ That is, aside from the already differentiable navy-blue wall color. Here, there was still much more… personality present, beyond the still-admittedly plain-looking dresser and desk. Much more than any bunk could demonstrate.

And by ‘personality,’ Fredrick figured that included, but was not limited to a boy-band poster on the right-most wall overlooking the vanity. The hanging wall-scroll displayed five rather… beautiful looking young batpony and unicorn stallions who all looked like Kaiser Edgelord von Edgmeisters to the extreme.

And in harsh lettering, the name ‘No Direction’ stood out to him most prominently. Fredrick would be lying if he did not spare a chuckle.

Letting his vision continue surveying his new surroundings, Fred drifted from the poster to her desk, where right above it was hung Stella’s familial coat of arms. Right above it was a pristinely cleaned, shiny like-new sword.

More specifically, a falchion.

The longest wall was directly parallel to the entrance, which was where her double-bed lay by the right-most corner, with the dresser making up the rest of the space between the bed and the left wall. This quickly became of little concern to him, especially when he spied a modest-sized dildo sitting right on the dresser erect… that had apparently gathered dust from lack of use.

Or at least, he hoped that was the case.

Of course, Fredrick figured this would be the greatest conversation topic at the moment, so he pointed directly to the current object of his affections.

“So… you either had one last wild ride before you left here last time, or you have a really dusty vagina, Stel’… Jesus Christ what the hell is the matter with you?!” he said, drawing Stella’s attention to the sex toy standing rigid and proud on her dresser.

And as Fred had come to expect with numerous things in his life, Stella’s dismissive wave and roll of her eyes meant she could not give a single shit.

“Hey,” she began with a shrug. “You’re in my room, and you knew the fuckin’ risks. You made yer bed, now sleep in it, cunt,” she finished, patting the side of her equally navy-blue comforter.

Fredrick coughed once, masking some laughter, as he moved to join his mare on her bed.

“I assure you, I was not given any disclaimer and I, in fact, opt out of this fuckery,” he declared, plopping down on her thighs.

She did not even flinch, and in fact, sunk more into her bed with a relaxed sigh. She enjoyed the extra weight. Stella also had the perfect fact to point out:

“Our whole relationship is a non-opt-out disclosure agreement. The only terms are: go fuck yerself and deal with it, ya twat. I am Stella.”

Fredrick looked down upon the resting thestral and poked her nose right in the center.

Now she flinched.

“Ow!”

The human giggled, then cupped the sides of her face with both hands, scrunching up her oh-so cutely dimpled cheeks.

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way…” he added with mock condescension.

His expression morphed to one of almost paternal concern as he released Stella’s face from his hands’ soft vice. Her expression bounced back elastically as he vocalized said concerns.

“...but please tell me that the dust collected naturally on the stainless-steel dong and did not in fact stick there… right?”

Stella playfully lunged for his hand and nipped at him, though he pulled away just in time. She then met his concerned expression with her own smug one.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, babe? Maybe I just have a dusty minge? You didn’t seem tae mind all that much a week ago.”

Her eyes lidded further upon Fredrick’s nigh-horrified reaction.

“I can call yer cock ‘Broom an’ Pan’ if that’ll make ye feel better?”

Fredrick only shook his head and turned away, muttering under his breath:

“...fuckin’ hell.”

And despite his readily apparent discomfort, that whittled away under the sheer hilarity of the entire situation, and Fredrick opted to move off of Stella and lay next to her. Parallel to one another, the two stared at the ceiling and emitted a simultaneous, fatigued sigh; today had definitely been a long day of traveling, but so far, it was worth every minute of getting their asses fused to the questionably shitty train seats.

“So,” Stella voiced, turning her gaze to Fredrick and folding her arms behind her head.

“Hmm?” Fredrick responded, mirroring her motions perfectly.

With a genuine inflection lacing her tone, she asked:

“What ye think so far after fifteen minutes? Havin’ fun, love?”

For extra, teasing effect that she knew for a fact never failed to get Fred’s heart in a flutter, she, in kind, fluttered her eyelashes. For somepony who prided herself on being tough and not taking a single shit from anypony but herself—a tomboy, by all accounts—Stella surprisingly held a firm mastery on the art of classical femininity.

And such femininity, while a deadly weapon, always merited a response.

A kiss to the lips and a nibble on her snout was such a riposte, which earned him a cute little wrinkle on her part.

“So far, your family’s nice. Mom and dad seem pretty chill and Sveta’s cool, if a bit on the aggressive side… though I never thought I’d say that when you of all ponies are right next to me. I like her,” he added resolutely, snuggling further into her bed and reveling in his relaxed state.

Stella, however, always had some words to add. Rolling onto her stomach, supporting herself by her forearms, and leering down at her prone coltfriend, she smiled... unimpressed.

“Of course you like ‘er… she’s got big tits and nice fuckin’ legs,” she quipped, but then added with an incredulous, faux-innocent tone:

“Oh please, good sir, what did ye notice first? Her fuckin’ eyes?,” she punctuated with a click of her tongue.

Stella knew exactly what she was doing… and the batpony was one who felt that she would be a shit partner in a relationship if she did not prod her better half’s weaknesses at least the recommended dosage of three times a day.

In this case, she knew Fredrick loved sweater puppies and smooth, lean legs. Sveta had plenty.

As was often the case, Fredrick found himself unable to respond. This time, two firm knuckle taps on the door drew both their collective attention, and they found Sveta peeking with a lone eye inside, cautiously surveying the scene. Fredrick just truly noticed how her front bangs were brushed to either side, split right in the middle with a small widow’s peak fashionably adorning the center of her forehead. Her locks framed her face like a partial veil.

Her higher-toned voice intruded on the couple’s banter further.

“You fucks finish diggin’ the well yet?”

“Nah mate! Just gettin’ started, care tae watch?” Stella so graciously offered.

What could she say? She was a giver, after all. But despite her generous offer, Sveta was less inclined to take her up on it.

The taller mare shook her head as she entered into the room in full, and this time Fredrick’s attention did not settle on any intimate parts... but rather, the acoustic guitar in her left hand’s grasp.

“Nah mate, I’ll pass. He’s tainted with yer bullshit; he wouldn’t know good pussy if it sat on his face at this point,” Sveta shot with as little a thought as Stella had when she spoke… at all, really.

Good lord, this is top quality, Sabre brand-name banter!

Fredrick was taken aback in the best possible ways at the sheer magnitude of their insults to each other; and neither appeared to have any qualms with going for the jugular in a figurative sense… though probably also in the literal sense, if their combined aggression being enough to cave in the remnants of their mountain-metropolis was anything to go by.

And as Sveta took a seat at the foot of Stella’s bed, scooting up, and joining the two of them by leaning against the wall, Fredrick opted to just observe. He likened the experience thus far to watching a show on Animal Planet, and getting a close-up of majestic creatures in their natural habitats.

What a beautiful sight.

So much so, he almost forgot about his marefriend’s impending counterattack.

“Ye may want to sit on some good dick first before ya comment on his taste… ‘cuz I don’t think you ever have, you salty slag,” Stella suggested, returning to her back and facing the ceiling, much like the raptly listening Fredrick next to her.

Sveta did not decide to follow up immediately, so Stella took the opening once more:

“...Because I don’t think ye would know ‘good dick’ if it smacked you across the muzzle.”

Sveta paid her absolutely no mind, sitting lotus position on the bed and pulling her guitar firmly against her chest, further resting it in her lap. Without even sparing a glance toward her older sister, Sveta calmly spoke:

“Ya know, if I wanted me own comeback I’d wipe it off yer mum’s muzzle.”

Fredrick and Stella raised a simultaneous eyebrow at that assertion, though naturally the latter had everything to say.

“We share the same mum, ya scabby bellend,” Stella so obviously pointed out.

“I know what I said!” Sveta reaffirmed her position.

And that last line nearly forced Fredrick to evacuate his damn lungs in guffaw.

But the truth of the matter was, despite the magnitude of the giggling fit tearing at his abs, he had a lot less energy to laugh than he had thought. This was in no small part due to the entire day’s worth of traveling; this would remedy itself upon the consumption of food, but for right now, Fredrick was more than comfortable to lay on Stella’s perfectly-made bed and relax his eyes… all while listening to the sonorous white noise of two batpony sisters sling shit back and forth like trebuchets.

He could probably fall asleep to it, in all honesty; there was no better white noise in his mind.

But, no further banter ever came… just a ‘yeeech,’ out of Stella and she, too, promptly lay her head back in full to rest her eyes. She resumed her previous position, but only for a few short moments before scooting closer to Fredrick.

Talk died at that point, and Sveta took the newfound silence as the ripe opportunity to pluck at a couple random strings of her guitar.

There was no rhythm at first, but she eventually found one in a gentle, harmonic strumming. With her eyes half-lidded in barely-veiled ease, her digits glided over her strings and a soothing, acoustic piece was the product. Placid smirk adorned on her muzzle, she let the meanderings of her mind and the accompanying wandering of her fingers fill the void of the lack of talking.

Especially so when she began softly humming along… and then ‘oooh’ing.

Literally music to Fredrick’s ears.

While Stella never really talked about her family during their time together, it took little mental clarity to confirm that Sveta was the musically gifted one of the family. She did not strum aggressively, nor play Wonderwall thirty times in a goddamn row.

To him, it was the right amount of gentility and care applied to each and every note.

There were undoubtedly many years of practice under her belt, and Fredrick, while barely able to keep his eyes a mite open, felt compelled to say something on the matter after a little while, if a bit groggily.

“That’s some gorgeous playing, Sveta… I could fall asleep to that,” he voiced, placing his right arm behind his head for support so he could at least have the decency to look at their personal guitarist.

“Cheers, Fred,” Sveta replied, beaming him a brief, toothy smile. “It’s meant to relax, so I’m glad you like!”

Stella remained silent, snuggling into Fred’s side and resting her face on his chest. All the while, Fredrick began running his fingers up and down her side. He would walk his fingers up to her shoulder, then drag them tantalizingly slowly down to her waistline, gently prodding the teeny amount of exposed midriff Stella sported from their positioning.

And every once in a while, she would let one pleasureful tingle run through her body… a tingle that always manifested itself when Fredrick would barely graze his fingertips over her skin. A tickle, yet not. A touch, yet so fleeting.

Stella was never the most intimately physical mare, but after her time with Fredrick, she was more than willing to make some exceptions. Her sister’s background music provided ample ability to lose herself in her muddled, tired thoughts and just hang with her colt and her family.

Nothing else mattered.

Well, to her at least.

Fredrick pursed his lips tight when he began hearing what sounded like a faint, low-pitched rumble. Upon further tuning his ears and never ceasing his ministrations, he realized it was a purr—an actual purr—emanating from Stella’s mouth whenever he touched her near her shoulders and traps.

And such a sound was amplified the more he dug his fingers in massage-like purpose.

In the end, as near as he was to giving into the pressure to jokingly lambast Stella for her cute bat noises, he did not want to ruin this moment; he lived for ones like this.

Thusly, he would let her have it… later.

As for Sveta, she only smiled fondly, if nostalgically, at the duo’s semi-public display.

She continued letting her fingers tango with the strings, and seemingly expended no effort in gliding her left hand up and down the fretboard with the precision of a seasoned veteran.

She was no Jimi Hendrix in Fred’s eyes, but based on the soothing yet moderately complex tune to his untrained ears that she was hammering out, she was damn good.

“You play any other instruments?” he ventured to ask.

Sveta kept her eyes dutifully trained on her own motions, and took a few seconds to finish her a few chords before formulating her response.

Fredrick had to have underestimated how tired he actually was, considering he paid nearly no mind to Sveta’s instrument squeezing her bosom tight against her chest—a portion of her tight, natural valley easily visible through the aperture of her v-neck. Her teal coat continued to contrast perfectly with her black t-shirt.

“Just this an’ electric guitar,” came her smooth reply… as if in tandem and synchronous cadence with her own playing. All the while, she went back to her humming and one-vowel singing when her voice was not being used to converse.

That was something else that struck the human. Her voice helped to carry the melody to new heights, and on some of her high notes (though not particularly loud by any means; relaxing, after all), his forearms did not fail to get a mild bit of the chills.

“And you can sing,” he noted with a friendly, amicable inflection. “Musician through and through, huh?”

Sveta ceased her strumming at an instant and focused her sapphire eyes on the opposite wall, considering her next words for a few moments. Without fail, she returned to her playing right where she left off.

“I love it, but it’s not what I want to do with me life. It’s a really addictin’ yet constructive hobby, if ye will,” she answered, then nodded to herself. “Relaxin’, too.”

The music trailed off as the end of her song was upon them, but not all was lost, as another one started up in earnest.

Fred took his previous assertion back; this was the perfect white noise.

“Even so. Could’ve fooled me,” he replied.

And to that, Sveta could do little to sway the tiniest tinge of color to her cheeks. Her fingers were not affected by the compliment-induced stutter, however.

Fredrick had to also concede that, like Stella, Sveta sported a nice smile… she had to; they were identical, after all. But their different facial profiles meant that their features were accented and accentuated differently and accordingly.

That did not equate to an identical personality, though to the untrained eye and ear, it may have seemed that way.

Fred liked to feel that he knew Stella at least modestly well by now. He had never seen her without some measure of a smile kissing her facial features… and even when she was frustrated or chewing out her subordinates, she always found a way to smile about it in the end, usually in the form of sardonic and crude humor. It was one of the things he admired about her most.

Sveta, however, in her calmest state had barely a fraction of that same smile that was so innate to her personality, as well. Even as Fredrick cautiously observed her mannerisms, there was little more than that subtle upturn of the corner of her lips. Those lidded eyes and her narrower face brimmed with one-track concentration.

He was beginning to note the discrete differences between the ‘Sabre Sisters,’ as he already affectionately began referring to them.

And so far, he could live with a little vacation that included Stella being oddly extra affectionate to him, and her attractive sister playing what sounded like (at the moment) Scottish lute tunes on a six-string guitar.

What a magical place.

After what seemed like an hour of the most peace and serenity that could ever be had around the equivalent of a high-explosive mine and an entire navy of sailors, a new, feminine voice ripped through the silence… it built upon its own wake and expanded through the empty corridors of the household in a most sonorous yet simultaneously cacophonous decree:

“FOOD’S FUCKIN’ READY, CUNTS! GET THE FUCK DOWN ‘ERE BEFORE I UNBIRTH THE LOT OF YE!

Sveta let her guitar fall from her lap with a complete about-face in her gracefulness. Her music ceased just as abruptly.

“Later, dickheads!” she declared with a simple wave, bounding to her hooves and strutting out the room back towards the kitchen.

Stella then sat upright and stretched both her arms over her head, groaning as a few wayward pops sounded from her back. Twisting the extra tension out of her lats and her spine, she turned and peered down upon a barely-awake Fredrick.

“Let’s get some food, aye?” she rhetorically suggested.

She yawned cutely and then delivered a single swat to Fredrick’s crotch. Stella did not fuck around when it came to good food.

“GAH!” he groaned, lurching his upper half upward and grasping his nuts by reflex at the sharp pain that ebbed away as quickly as it came.

T’was a love-tap.

“The fuck was that for!?”

Stella stood upright and bounced a few times on her hooves to get more blood flowing through her. She then twirled once and delivered the most random pistol point to Fred that he had ever seen, winking all the while.

“Gotta wake up, ‘cuz no one eats ‘till we’re all at the table! Get yer cunt-ass up!”

Fredrick, however, was more than keen on falling asleep after the unjust treatment of his meat and two veg.

“Meh,” he huffed, rolling over.

Stella only smiled that devious, impish smile of hers; there was an easy remedy for his defiance.

“Sveta’s hungry as shit… ye want me to get Sveta back up in here?”

Fredrick was immediately drawn to the memories of when he first met her, and how he felt like she would bludgeon him for simply not following them to Stella’s room the moment he was called. As one who prided himself as a man of reason, he knew how to pick his battles.

“Please no…”

Stella was not convinced at all, and she rested her chin thoughtfully in the web of her thumb and index finger.

“Oh I think we need this… you and Sveta locked in me room with a sanded-down strapon…”

“Okay! Okay! I’m coming, fuck,” Fredrick acquiesced entirely.

Getting to his feet and stretching any remnant sleepiness from his body, he ran a hand through his hair to make it look modestly presentable after the acute case of bedhead he received. He then trudged out the door after Stella and closed it behind him, though not without incurring another patented ‘love slap’ right on the ass from his beautiful, ponytailed mare…

All with that cocky, fanged smile on her face.

“GAH! Goddamnit!” Fred yelped, grasping his left buttock.

“You loooove it~.”