Airmail, uncharacteristically for the azure blue mare, slept in late the next morning and didn’t wake up until six a.m., at least if she assumed the clock on the wall of Emerald’s first guest bedroom was accurate – which it was. Blinking away the sleep from her brown eyes she sat up from the feathery multi coloured cuddle pile, being careful not to wake Tempest and Emerald who were snoring away beside her. As she moved however, Wildfire turned her head in the semi-dark room. Celestia’s sun had been in the sky for an hour already, but the thick red drapes kept the worst of the light at bay. “Pretty, is that you up?”

Smiling at her little lover, Airmail answered quietly. “Yeah, I'm going to make us some breakfast, you want to help?”

“Alrighty…” Whispering in turn, the blind pegasus carefully extricated herself not only from the bed, but rather skilfully from between the hind legs of Emerald and the forelegs of Tempest like some game of Twister. Even more impressive was the way she did this without waking her step-mother or her herd-mate. “I've been up a while,” Wildfire admitted when her hooves touched the new quilted carpet, “But I realised I didn't know where anything is now, so I stayed in bed.”

“I slept in late.” It felt like such a guilty pleasure kind of thing to admit, and it made the lead editor feel like a naughty filly scrumping apples. While she wasn’t quite sure where the kitchen was herself, she was sure it wouldn’t be that hard to locate. Flicking her summer green tail under Wildfire’s nose, the much older mare led her quietly down the stairs.

“I don't know how long I've been up,” Wildfire commented as she descended the stairs. All the while she was feeling with her wings and hooves, as well as sniffing the frankly unusually clean smelling house. She couldn’t remember it smelling this clean since her birth mother had died. “I just thought it best to stay where I was. Did you sleep well, Pretty?”

“I did.” Airmail replied as she looked about the living room trying to guess which side door was the kitchen. The first one she chose was the downstairs bathroom. “It was nice to sleep in a snuggle pile compared to the train.”

“Yuppers, it was.” Wildfire readily agreed to that. “My mum was right, her hugs are excellent. Oh, and when you’re done with the toilet, the kitchen is this way.”

Airmail giggled as she closed the bathroom door and she trotted along in the direction that Wildfire was pointing with her wingtip. It made sense, it was after all her house. The layout was the same, just the contents were different. “You're not bad yourself.”

Using her wingtip she felt her way along Airmail’s flank until she was able to kiss her cheek. “I’ve had good teachers.”

At last, at the second door along and through a short connecting hallway, Airmail finally found the kitchen. Pleased with herself, the azure blue mare quickly scoured the cupboards in search of flour, eggs and milk for pancakes. She did find a tub of chocolate chips, so she decided to make chocolate chip pancakes for them all. Standing still while she heard her lover move about and get busy, Wildfire felt a bit like a spare wheel. “Let me know what I can help with, Pretty. Um…did you dream at all?”

“I'm sure I did,” Airmail replied over her shoulder as she combined all the ingredients into a measuring jug and whisked them up into a batter, “but I don't remember them. Check the fridge for juice and syrup. I'm making chocolate chip pancakes.”

“Alrighty, I'll have a look…” Wildfire felt around the kitchen until, after a couple of false alarms, she found the fridge. It didn’t help her concentration that she could smell pancakes cooking on the gas oven behind her. Using a wing she opened up the fridge and she started sniffing and investigating around at the contents inside. Smiling at her, Airmail let the little yellow mare do her thing while she continued to produce a lot of pancakes.

After a momentary search in which Wildfire tasted something utterly revolting that was worse than celery – she didn’t ask what it was, she didn’t want something that evil to have a name – she stood up from the fridge in success. “Aha! I have what I think is juice and syrup!”

Hearing that, Airmail turned from the stove to inspect the fruits of her lover’s mighty hunt of the fridge. She smiled warmly when she saw that she did in fact have orange juice and syrup. “Thank you Wily, can you put those on the table and then get the dishes please?”

“Alrighty Airy!” Using her free wing that wasn’t clutching the juice and syrup, she felt around the kitchen until she found the breakfast bar and she set her load down on the bar top. Once that was done she went in search of plates. Thankfully Emerald had left the clean plates on the worktop by the sink from the night before and after a few minutes searching she got them. “I have plates!”

“Chocolate chip pancakes are done too.” Airmail smiled as she carried the huge stack of steaming hot pancakes on the bar next to the plates that Wildfire had laid out ready. “Now for the coffee. I'll even make it anti-Luna for you too,” she said with a giggle.

Upstairs in Room one, after Airmail and Wildfire crept out to make breakfast, Tempest moved over to snuggle herself into Emerald’s orange coat. The sleeping weather pony didn't wake with the smells of the chocolate pancakes, but the tantalising scent of coffee that was wafting its way up the stairs had her waking in short order. As she stirred, Emerald pulled her into a tight snuggle and yawned herself awake. “Do you think they will serve breakfast in bed, or are we expected to go downstairs?” Tempest asked, not wanting to move just yet.

Giving her limbs a tentative stretch, Emerald giggled. “If w-we w-wait a m-mo-moment they m-might br-bring it up.”

Tempest nodded. She liked that plan as it involved staying in the warm bed and in the younger pegasus’s warm embrace. “I'm all for waiting.”

Airmail however was to scupper that plan when she yelled up from the kitchen, “The food is on the table and it’s growing cold!”

“Aaand…maybe not.” Tempest sighed when she realised she’d have to get out of bed before noon.

“C'mon mum!” Wildfire called up next from the kitchen, “Airy made chocolate chip pancakes!”

“Oh w-well, I suppose it w-was w-worth a tr-try,” Emerald sighed and yawned as Tempest nuzzled her cheek before with remarkable grace she hopped out of the still warm bed with a flap of her powerful violet wings. At the door she waited for Emerald, who clambered messily out of the bed and, shaking her green mane into something that resembled ‘presentable’, she followed after Tempest with another loud yawn.

“Coffee please.” Tempest requested shortly, entering the kitchen and following the scent of coffee like one of those characters on a Saturday morning cartoon.

Silently, and with a knowing smirk, Airmail pointed to a seating pad stool next to the breakfast bar that had a mug of hot coffee waiting for her. “There, and it’s how you like it.”

“Thank you.” Tempest sat on the stool, sipping her drink with a welcome happy smile. “Good morning to you both, and it is before seven when I just said that!”

“G-Good morning.” Emerald smiled as she checked the kitchen clock and saw that it was indeed just six fifty a.m. “As my f-first g-guests how w-wa-was the r-room?”

“Snuggly.” Was Tempest’s one word comment.

“I agree with Stormy.” Airmail commented as she too took a sip of her coffee.

“I third 'snuggly'.” Wildfire grinned and began to demolish her mini stack of chocolate chip pancakes. “I'd be well happy to stay here again!” she slurred with a mouthful of food.

Quietly taking an empty spot at the breakfast bar next to Wildfire, Emerald blushed intensely. “T-Thank you, I d-do my b-best.”

Airmail took a far more delicate, but no less messy bite out of her pancakes. “You do well Emerald and that is what matters.”

“T-Thanks…” Emerald took a bite of her own pancakes. “Whose idea w-was br-breakfast?”

“Wily's stomach woke me up so I thought it would be a good idea as I didn't want her to gnaw off a leg.” Airmail giggled around her mouthful of pancakes.

“You're welcome,” Wildfire smirked as she took a drink of her sugary black coffee, “Mum your leg was safe, Airy's tastes much better.”

“That is true,” Tempest thought aloud, working on her own coffee, “it’s no wonder she got up to make breakfast.”

“Y-You've t-tasted her le-leg?” Emerald paused in the eating of her breakfast to let out a bright little giggle, one she hadn’t let out for a good long time. “I'm g-glad y-you fell in wi-with a g-good crowd.”

Tempest considered that for a brief moment. “We're glad she did too.”

“Y-You'll have t-to tell m-me all about it w-when you have m-more time.”

Airmail drained her mug of coffee and got up from the breakfast bar to get herself a refill and one for everypony else there too. “Take some time for yourself and come and visit once we move into the new place. You can join us for the house warming party!”

“I w-will d-definitely…” she started, then paused, offering a nod of thanks to Airmail when she placed the fresh coffee in front of her on the bar.

“Mum,” Wildfire asked as she finished off her chocolate chip pancakes with a smack of her lips, “can I ask, have you always stuttered?”

“W-What?” Emerald was so surprised by her step-daughter’s question that she almost dropped her mug of coffee. “N-No, it wa-was after I m-met your da-da-dad that it st-started.” The orange mare hoped somepony would change the subject. She really didn’t want to talk about her ex-husband right then, not when she was so happy with her new family.

“Oh...” Wildfire pushed away her coffee. “Mum…I’m sorry.”

Airmail caught the reticent look on Emerald’s face and glanced at Tempest just as the violet pony looked at her. They shared a very brief exchange of ear flicks before the lead editor nodded quietly and she put her hoof up in the air like she was getting a teacher’s attention. “I cooked!”

Tempest flicked her ears one last time. “I got the dishes.”

Wildfire, distracted by her two herd-mates at the breakfast bar, asked; “D’you want any help?”

Tempest smiled, happy that their distraction had worked. “Sure Wily, you can dry.”

When Tempest and Wildfire got up from the breakfast bar and carried the dirty dishes to the sink to clean and dry them, Airmail quietly ushered the shaken Emerald out of the kitchen and steered her towards the new cream coloured couch in the living room. “Emerald,” she asked as they sat down, “are you up for a flight to visit Silverbolt?”

“Ce-Certainly Airm-m-ail…” In a fit of frustration, Emerald thumped her left forehoof into her cream couch. “I’m so-sorry for m-my stutter,” she then fluttered her clipped wings, the damaged feathers being a stark reminder of her ex-husband’s regular abuse and just one of the steps he had taken to ensure that she wouldn’t get away. “I um…I mi-might n-need help, t-to fly.”

“I'm not worried about your stutter, so why should you?” Airmail gave the fretting mare a very kind nuzzle. “Be yourself, it is what we taught Wildfire….and, I’m sure your daughter will be more than happy to help you.”

“You have taken to Emerald quite well,” Tempest commented quietly to Wildfire in the kitchen as she got on with washing the breakfast dishes.

“Yuppers,” Wildfire smiled with the tea towel in her hoof, “I know she's my step-mum just because she married dad, but it's more than that y'know?” She hadn’t put this into words yet, but she’d been thinking it. “It’s like a bond, because he messed us both about, and I figure she doesn't need a hard time from me over it.”

Tempest nodded her head thoughtfully. They really did have a smart little mare here, no matter what her math result was. “That lesson took Airy almost a year to learn. Now Bluesky and Rye are her mom and dad.”

“You worried I'm calling Emerald ‘mum’ too quick?”

“No!” Tempest exclaimed as she washed the plates, “I'm glad you aren’t putting her through what Airy did to Sky.”

As she was reared up to her hind legs, Wildfire was almost up to Tempest’s shoulder height-wise, so she gave her a nuzzle. “She sounds like a nice mare is all, and she must be as nervous about inheriting a daughter as I am about having another mum. So…I thought I'd make it easy.” She paused and giggled, “Was Airy stubborn then, at first?”

“Resentful, I'd say.” Tempest replied after she gave the matter a little thought. “She was seven and her parents did the murder suicide thing. Also Rye is an earth pony. The, "I'm so bad my parents would rather die than love me" thing. Rye and Sky had a lot of patience with her, then Sky got pregnant and Airy turned around.”

“Yuppers, I guess it’s easier me being older, I think I'd be more resentful if I were seven. My biggest thing to get my head 'round is my dad, the awful things he did, the ponies he did them to…” Wildfire hung her head in shame, humiliation and distress. “Stormy...don't let me turn into him.”

“You don't have to be him,” Tempest said lovingly, wrapping Wildfire in the feathery embrace of her left wing as they washed up, “you can always be Silverbolt instead.”

Wildfire nestled into Tempest’s warm hug. “It's dumb I know,” she said hesitantly, “I kinda feel 'dirty' having his blood in me, knowing what he did to me and to my friends.”

“He gave you a chance at life. Sure, he tried to take it away, but he failed. You're here, and he isn't.” Tempest smiled and gave her diminutive lover a kiss to her cheek. “I'll give you a nice bath when we get home.”

Wildfire, having dried the last of the dishes, wrapped Tempest’s barrel in a tight hug and she asked with a smile, “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Awesomes!”

“Okay,” reluctantly Tempest pulled herself away from the hug and she began to wipe down the breakfast bar with a wet cloth. “Let's get our saddlebags and go visit Silverbolt, then we'll take a short flight up to Cloudsdale.”

Wildfire took a moment or two to process that statement. “You wanna meet Cy?”

“Of course,” Tempest grinned as she moved onto wiping down the black marble worktops, “and I think Cy would like to meet you.”

“That would be cool,” Wildfire thought aloud, “and it'd be sweet to visit Cloudsdale for once.”

“It will be my first trip too.” Tempest commented before finally cleaning the sink, “Airy has been there before.”

“It’s a good thing we have a guide then.” Wildfire smiled then a thought struck her as Tempest ushered the blind mare out of the kitchen and through the small hallway to the living room. A rather obvious thought, but she didn’t realise that. “Ooh! I bet Cy has a cloud house!”

Airmail couldn’t resist. “All of Cloudsdale is cloud houses!” She giggled behind her azure blue hoof, as did Emerald and Tempest.

“Oooh...” Wildfire coloured up in a blush. She knew they weren’t being mean. “I um, I knew that…”

“See Emerald,” Tempest giggled and nuzzled the yellow pegasus’s cheek, “Wily is one of the smart ones!”

Still giggling on her couch, Emerald forgot for the moment about her clipped wings. “So I s-see. So W-Wily, your m-mum, should I br-bring anything?”

Wildfire thought for just a moment. She knew what her birth mother would love, what she always loved. Daffodils, though Wildfire had never asked her why. It was always daffodils with her mother. She assumed it was because of the yellow colour matched her mother’s coat. Silverbolt never told her the truth. “Daffodils, if you have them mum, that'd be great!”

“There's a bu-bunch in t-the even nu-numbered rooms,” Emerald replied quickly as she got up from the couch, “I'll g-go get them.”

“Here's the plan Wily,” Airmail said just as she watched Emerald trot on up the stairs. “Easy flight to see your mom. Quick flight to Cloudsdale. Easy flight to Ponyville for Dusky and Oils, then we go to Trottingham. You will let us know when to take a break, right?”

Wildfire nodded with a very serious look on her scarred face. She knew this wasn’t a topic to joke about. “Sure I will, Pretty. I promise, the moment I start feeling iffy, I'll let you know.”

“Good, the most important thing is not when we get there,” Tempest rested her violet forehoof on Wildfire’s little shoulder, “It is getting there together.”

“I won't show off, don't worry.” Wildfire smiled a reassuring smile, “I promise the minute I start struggling I'll say.”

Just then, Emerald came bustling back into the living room from the stairs with the flowers held under her right wing. She caught the last part of what her step-daughter had said. This concerned her, a lot. “St-Struggling W-Wi-Wily? W-What's wrong?”

“We have Wildfire on a flight training program to get her up to speed for firefighting duty,” Airmail answered the orange mare’s question.

Tempest grinned as she hefted up her saddlebags onto her back. “She can be stubborn though, so we need to be sure she lets us know if we hit her limit.”

Walking straight over to the little blind mare, Emerald gathered Wildfire up in a tight hug. “Y-You let them kn-know if y-you need help.” She said in a firm tone that said she was having no arguments. “I've only ju-just got y-you, I don't w-want to s-see you hurt!”

“Only time will tell.” Airmail gave her little lover a nuzzle before placing her own bags on her back and prodding Emerald to get up on Wildfire’s back. She knew she’d be able to bear the mare’s weight, it was only a short flight. “Let’s fly.”

“Yuppers,” Wildfire smiled as she heard her step-mother lock her front door. “C'mon mum, it’s this way.” From her flight suit, the little blind mare got her directions to the Residential District cemetery and with a flap of her yellow wings she took off with a broad smile.

On Wildfire’s back, Emerald held on tight while Airmail flew alongside her left side and Tempest took her right flank. “I have my transponder on, Wily.”

“I've got you, Pretty, point two.” Wildfire got the position of point one and point two either side of her as she flew with her mother on her back. Flying straight and level, it was only a twenty minute flight until she noticed Airmail start to descend. Wildfire followed the azure blue mare’s descent to the graveside.

When the four mare’s landed at Silverbolt’s very well-kept grave, Airmail and Tempest stepped back and waited silently, both older pegasi giving Wildfire the chance to talk to Emerald as to why they were here. Stepping up, Wildfire felt the edge of the grave with her toes of her hooves. “Mum?”

Stood next to her daughter in the early mid-morning mist, the sunlight struggling to break through the clouds, Emerald draped her mutilated right wing over the little mare’s back. “Y-Yes W-Wi-Wily?”

Wildfire, very grateful of her step-mother’s wing over her back giving her strength, pointed her left forehoof to the grave and its headstone. “I'd like you to meet my mum, Silverbolt.”

Removing her wing from Wildfire’s back, Emerald trotted around the grave to stand by the headstone and reverentially she laid the daffodils in place before backing off. “He-Hello Silverbolt, I'm Emerald. It's very ni-nice t-to meet yo-you at l-last.” When she was back by Wildfire’s side, she put her wing back in place. “T-Tell me about her, pl-please?”

Wildfire took a long pause and a deep breath before she answered. “Mum died when I was twelve. She was a weather pony here in Canterlot. She was helping to make a class ten thunderstorm when an errant cloud caught her with a lightning bolt.”

Along with her wing, Emerald now place her right foreleg around Wildfire's shoulder. “N-No...tell m-me about ‘her’, W-Wily.”

“Oooh...” Wildfire smiled, feeling a little silly as she got the wrong end of the stick. “Well, she was a weather pony for twelve years. She started out in Ponyville with the weather team there where she was born and she had me at thirty five when she moved here to work.”

Emerald listened and nodded, then she asked something that had been running around her head for the past few days. “And, y-you we-weren't always bl-blind, were y-you?”

“Nopes,” Wildfire shook her head. “It happened when I was eighteen, it was an accident in science class at university. A long time bully went for my friend Dusk, he got me instead, with two beakers of acid.”

“D-Did it hu-hurt?” Emerald blushed. She hadn’t meant to ask the foalish question quite so bluntly as she did.

Wildfire nodded. “So much. It was pain like you can't believe, mum. I don’t have the words for how much it hurt.”

Emerald’s blush was still in force and she looked around the otherwise empty cemetery, she noticed the mist was clearing up, she fished for a change of subject. “W-When you s-say Du-Dusk…”

“Prince Dusk,” Wildfire supplied with a smile. She recognised a subject switch when she heard one, but she couldn’t fault her mum for that. “Yuppers, my bestest friend.”

“And yo-your d-dad, he...he p-put you in the c-care home th-then, d-didn't he?”

Again, Wildfire nodded her head. Not sadly, but determinedly. “Right around the time he got together with you? That's how we figure it, right guys?”

At last, Tempest stepped up to stand beside Emerald. “That is what the bank records show.”

Emerald looked like she was going to cry, especially with her step-daughter and her herd-mates around her offering her strength and courage after everything that had happened, and the part she had played in it. “H-He ma-married me w-w-with your m-money.”

“Yuppers,” Wildfire agreed, “but mum you've got it now and you’re going to put it to good use helping other ponies, right?”

“It was more than that.” Airmail put her azure blue wing over Wildfire’s back and over Emerald’s wing. She rather liked this picturesque cemetery this early in the morning. It was quiet and serene. “He did a lot of things for money. Including putting Wily away in the home, stealing her money and getting a monthly payoff to leave her there.”

“It seems he used the money to entice you,” Tempest said, not unkindly, “but I don't think he married you out of love.”

Emerald rubbed her forehoof across her eyes. They were getting awfully wet and she couldn’t have that, not here. Not now. “I th-thought he l-loved me at first, he was n-nice, sweet even.” And he had been. Cold Front had been the perfect gentlecolt when he had swept her off her hooves but then… “Then h-he ch-changed, after w-we w-we-ere married.”

“I'm sure our friend Requiem could give us a lot of reasons for that, but in the end it was choices he made.” Tempest asserted definitely. Cold Front might indeed have been the best pony in the land once, but that wasn’t how he ended his days, and that was all that mattered to her.

Wildfire wasn’t having any self-deprecating pity fest. She agreed with Tempest wholeheartedly. “In the end mum, it don't matter why.” She punctuated her statement with an affectionate nuzzle to her step-mother’s cheek. “The fact is nopony made him make the choices he made, and more important, it’s not our fault, right?”

Airmail looked at Tempest over both Wildfire and Emerald’s backs and the violet weather pony nodded back with a wry smile. “Right!” They both declared together.

“Ri-Right.” Emerald stammered with a thankful smile on her face.

“And,” Wildfire continued, “you got awesome family and friends out of it, and I got a mum that I can cuddle if I need to!”

Now Emerald’s smile was wider and more assured. “R-Right, W-Wily!”

“Is this one of those D’AWWWWW moments you read about in mushy books?” Airmail asked Tempest, earning herself a giggle and a roll of the eyes from her herd-mate.

“Wh-What's wr-wrong wi-with those m-moments?” Emerald asked innocently. She rather liked those ‘mushy’ books. Probably why she had been so easy to snare back in Las Pegasus all those years ago.

“Family group hug?”

Tempest leant over and kissed Wildfire’s cheek. “Group hug!”

Emerald let out a bright happy giggle. “Gr-group hug!” For the next five minutes nopony said anything at all, they were too busy and occupied with the five way hug fest – they had seen fit to include Silverbolt’s headstone in the hug – to speak anything at all.

Reluctantly, it was Airmail that broke the cuddle pile at the grave site. She didn’t want to, but they had places to be and a rough schedule to adhere to. “Thank you for your hospitality, Emerald. I look forward to your text with your email. We will let you know our physical address once we've moved into the new place.”

Emerald nodded and again wiped her eyes. She wanted the hug to last forever. “It w-was my pl-pleasure Airmail, and I me-meant w-what I said, y-you're always w-welcome in m-my house.”

Wildfire was the last to pull away from the hug. “Um…can you do me a favour, mum?”

Emerald nuzzled her step-daughter’s cheek, “anything W-Wily, anything at all.”

“Would um, would you mind, coming to keep mum company sometime?”

Now Emerald did weep, but it was a good weep, with tears for the right reasons. “I wi-will, as often as I c-can.”

“Okay Wily,” Airmail checked her watch. They really had to get a shift on if they hoped to get everywhere and get to Trottingham by nightfall. “I'm the slowest flyer in the herd, so you just need to keep up with me. Cloudsdale is at twenty thousand feet and about ten miles away.”

Emerald stole one last hug with each of them in turn. “Y-You all take c-care now.”

“We will mum!” Wildfire gave her step-mother a hug before turning to the sound of Airmail’s voice. “I'm ready, Pretty.”

Ever the practical, sensible mare of their little group, as well as remembering that the orange pegasus was currently incapable of flight, Tempest asked; “Are you good getting back home, Emerald?”

“Oh y-yes,” she answered quickly, “I'll g-go and d-do some shop-p-ping first though, since I'm out here.”

Airmail and Tempest each spared a few seconds to give Emerald a last hug and then all three pegasi spread their wings and launched straight up into the morning sky. “See ya mum!” Wildfire called out over her shoulder and Emerald stood by the grave and waved until she couldn’t see them anymore.

~ ~ ~

“On Time to Mother Hen,” Airmail called out when the trio of pegasi had passed over the Canterlot city wall boundary, leaving the mountainside city behind them. “On Time to Mother Hen, do you copy?”

Tempest snickered over her shoulder at her ‘call sign’, the morning sun shining brightly in the deep blue sky. “Mother Hen, I hear you loud and clear On Time.”

“Roger that.” Airmail smiled as they broke through a layer of clouds, “Please keep an eye on...we need a call sign for Wily.”

Tempest once more glanced over her shoulder, this time looking thoughtfully at her young herd-mate. “With that suit, hmm, how about Stealth Pony? What do you think, Wily?”

Wildfire giggled, flying along at a gentle climb rate from five thousand to twenty thousand feet, she found the pace easy and very manageable indeed. She thought about it for a moment and smiled, “Stealth Pony sounds good to me, Honey.”

“My real call sign is Storm Eye,” Tempest replied as she barrel rolled over a cloudlet for fun, “but I'll let Mother Hen go for now.”

Flying alongside Wildfire’s left flank, Airmail giggled at the violet weather pony’s antics. “Let’s stretch those wings of yours, Stealth Pony.” With that she silently accelerated from fifty up to her top speed of eighty miles per hour.

“Mother Hen suits you, Honey.” Wildfire giggled, then she concentrated when she heard the headset in her ear report to her that Point Two’s speed had increased and was now ahead of her. Smiling, she flapped harder to match Airmail's new speed.

Noticing Wildfire speeding up, Airmail began to randomly alter her course, not flying in a straight line for very long to see if the blind mare was using her navigator correctly. On Wildfire’s right, Tempest took off at well over a hundred miles per hour to allow her to fly 'cover' if needed.

At her new top speed of eighty, Wildfire noticed the two transponder signal reports moving in different directions and speeds. “Point Two, location, distance.” Immediately the headset responded with Airmail’s changing location and the blind mare set it to track her. As Airmail saw her change course to follow her, she performed some more – basic - manoeuvres as she climbed before slowing to a manageable seventy as she was getting tired. “I still got it, Pretty!”

The rest of the twenty minute flight to Cloudsdale was relatively uneventful. Airmail and Tempest both enjoyed the view, of the countryside and Ponyville below and of Wildfire’s tight little ass ahead. When they reached the huge floating expanse that was the cloud city, Airmail – being the one that had been here before – directed the trio to land near one of the main boulevards through the city. Ever so slightly out of breath, Wildfire landed, flexing her wings a little as she took her first steps on Cloudsdale. It felt just like any other cloud. “So...this is Cloudsdale, huh?”

“Could be,” Tempest snickered as she too landed on Wildfire’s right side. “It is on a cloud, after all.”

Airmail gave Wildfire’s left cheek a loving nuzzle. “The large sign over there with the word ‘Cloudsdale’ on it sort of gives it away too.”

Wildfire giggled. “You sarky mares.” Although of course she wouldn’t have either of them any other way. “If you'd point me to the sign I'll have a look.”

“Above your head,” Airmail smiled, “But you'll need cloud touch to read it as it is all in clouds.”

“Pretty much everything here is cloud.” Tempest supplied, somewhat unnecessarily.

“Hence the term, 'Cloudsdale', huh?” Wildfire smiled as she listened and sniffed. The cloud city sounded and smelled as full and busy as Canterlot and Manehatten, although it did smell a great deal cleaner than Canterlot.

“Sounds better than Cloudsfluffy.” Tempest snickered while Airmail laughed, steering the three of them over to a nearby public information board.

“Oh I don't know,” Wildfire laughed as she crossed the empty cloud street. It was odd to her how there were sidewalks and roads and other stuff here, but everything was essentially made from cloudstuff. “Cloudsfluffy rings a bell…”

“Sure,” Airmail giggled with a wing over Wildfire’s back, “you can start a name change campaign after you become the mayor.” She studied the information board carefully. “Hmmm…the information office here doesn't open till nine a.m. Lazy pegasi.”

Wildfire pretended to think with her hoof tapping her chin. “Hmm, no that's fine, I'm too busy being a firefighter to be mayor as well.”

Still shaking her head at what she perceived to be laziness of the highest order, Airmail pointed a wing down the street. “I know where City Hall is, so we may as well head there.”

“If it is like Manehatten,” Tempest thought out loud, “that should have the weather offices.”

“Maybe Cy's there already?” Wildfire suggested.

“Maybe, but if she is anything like the weather pony next to you, she is still drooling on her pillow.” Airmail snickered as she flicked her summer green tail under the blind mare’s nose and began to lead the way down the cloud city’s central thoroughfare.

Tempest sniffed indifferently, walking on Wildfire’s right side along the street. “I don't drool on my pillow! I drool on you Airy.”

Wildfire giggled at Tempest’s comment while they passed shops along the way to City Hall including a flower shop, a MiAC store and even a branch of Rarity’s Recreations. “Hey, I thought you drooled on me?”

“That is your fault for being Airy's replacement pillow.” Tempest said with a giggle, looking into the MiAC store with great interest as they walked past.

“That's fine,” Wildfire shrugged, “my flanks can handle being a pillow.”

“An absorbent pillow.”

“Yes, that is important.” Airmail snickered when they rounded a corner and saw their destination just across the way. “At least City Hall is open at this hour. That is a good sign.”

Wildfire giggled behind her hoof, “I dunno though, Momma Hen pillow was pretty good to lay on too.”

They walked over the street and open central plaza to the City Hall entrance. “I think you were pretty good for Momma pillow too.” Tempest laid her violet wing over Wildfire’s back as they entered the building and Airmail, at the head of the group, looked at the directory.

“Weather Offices are on this floor, Room One Zero through Two Seven.” The azure mare stated, she saw on the large map where the rooms were and she led them to the reception.

“See, I can be a good filly when I want to be.” Wildfire giggled as they trotted along the dense cloud-formed corridor.

“Yes you can be, my little egg.” Tempest squeezed the blind mare with her wing and added a lick up her right ear for good measure. “Lead on, Airy, let’s see when Cy comes into work.”

Wildfire leant up and nuzzled the older pegasus’s cheek, “Aww I love being your little anything, Honey.”

At the reception to the Weather Offices, Airmail hoofed open what looked like a frosted glass door but was in fact a super fine layer of cloud locked in a door frame and led them up to the receptionist’s desk. “Good morning, Miss. Is Cyclone in yet?”

The receptionist looked up from her early morning paperwork with a practised pleasant smile. “She usually arrives about a quarter to eight, so should be here in about ten minutes.”

“Thank you.” Airmail gave the mare a polite nod and turned to her diminutive lover. “Wily, could you see if you can hurry her along with a phone call, please?”

“Yuppers, will do, Pretty.” With a smile, Wildfire dug in her saddlebag with her wing and, setting to speaker dialled Cyclone’s number.

“Y'ello?” Cyclone, flying low and slow along Fairfeather Street, landed to take the call. She did wonder who was calling her this early in the day. It was way too early for Air Raid.

Wildfire smiled at the sound of her old friend’s familiar voice. “Hey Cy, guess who?”

“Oh hey Sweet Flanks,” Cyclone smiled and smoothed out her favourite summer yellow dress with the little green flowers around the hem over her padded rump as she started to walk along towards City Hall. “What’s up? I'm kinda on my way to work.”

“I know,” Wildfire giggled, “We're waiting for you.”

“Sweet Flanks?” Airmail asked, her eyebrow raised which made Tempest giggle like a filly.

“That sounds like Airy, good morning!” Cyclone smiled broadly down her phone, happy with herself that she had remembered the mare’s name. “Have you seen Wily's flanks?”

“From several different perspectives.” Airmail answered quickly, making Wildfire stick out her tongue and Tempest giggle louder.

“Then I rest my case, they're sweet.” Cyclone stated as she trotted past the MiAC store – her favourite – and approached the open plaza. “I don't wanna be rude chaps, but I'll be there in a few minutes.” With that she hung up her phone, and once it was back in her bag she smoothed her hoof over her dress once more and trotted on.

“That worked well.” Tempest snickered as she gave Wildfire’s ear a lick in just ‘that’ way she knew she liked it. “Thank you, Sweet Flanks.”

Airmail looked at Tempest and grinned, “New call sign?”

Tempest nodded solemnly. “New call sign.”

“What,” Wildfire giggled, “not Stealth Pony?”

Airmail and Tempest both laughed out loud at that. “I think Sweet Flanks is a bedroom call sign.” Airmail giggled, adding a lick of her own to Wildfire’s left ear for good measure. “You can keep Stealth Pony while we are flying.”

“GAaaaaAAH!” Wildfire moaned, her legs going weak when her ears were licked and nibbled. She hated and loved that her marefriends both knew what made her do that. “Mmmm th-that'll do me, Pretty!”

A few moments later Cyclone appeared, trotting along the corridor of City Hall to the Weather Offices reception area. Yellow dress impeccable over her clean fresh nappy, she had her turquoise mane tied back in a ponytail. “Morning chaps!” She greeted them with a cheery wave of her hoof.

“We are on our way back east,” Tempest greeted her as cheerily as she could manage this early in the morning. “But we thought a stop off here for Wily would be a great way to start this trip.”

Cyclone gave each mare a hug and a nuzzle of greeting, spending a little longer on Wildfire than the others. Though this was the first time she’d seen Wildfire’s scars, she didn’t care in the least. “Well, this is a nice surprise of a morning, I'm not supposed to be in 'till nine.”

“Then you have time for a visit before you start work.” Airmail said as Cyclone led the way through the reception area to her office.

“Oh of course I do,” Cyclone replied, hoofing open her office door and allowing them to enter first. “I'd make the time for you lot. Do you want a drink?”

“Yes.” Airmail and Tempest both answered at the exact same time as they guided Wildfire over to a seating pad and took one for themselves.

“Yuppers, please, Cy!”

Cyclone smiled an affectionate smile at the friend she hadn’t set eyes on for five years. She literally drank in the sight. “Will vending machine coffee do you?”

Airmail smiled, “It's not bourbon, but it will do.”

Tempest, who hadn’t yet sat down, asked, “You need a helping hoof with that?”

“Yes please, um...” Cyclone struggled to put a name to the violet mare. “Ah…Tempest, right?”

“Major Tempest, Commander, First Manehatten Weather Battalion,” Tempest announced like she was on parade, earning a giggle from Airmail and Wildfire respectively. “And, fetcher of the coffee.”

Cyclone saluted the older pegasus with a giggle. “Sir! Vending machine this way, Sir!” The jet black mare turned and, still giggling, led the way to the coffee vending machine out in the empty hallway a couple of doors down from her office. “Here we are!” She put the necessary bits in to buy four coffees. “How'd you like it?”

“One black with two sugars, one with cream and no sugars and finally one with a sugar and cream for me.”

“Gotcha.” Cyclone tapped the keypad and pressed in the order. “So, Tempest, I had Raid on the phone last night. I take it I have you guys to thank for bringing our Darkie back?”

“You can thank Princess Luna for that,” Tempest replied modestly, downplaying her part in the whole thing. “Our herd holds a special place in her heart, so she does go the extra mile for us.”

“Hey, don't knock a Princess in your pocket hun.” A few minutes later and the order of four coffees came out on the vending machine’s revolving serving plate. “You take two, I take two?” She asked, and when Tempest nodded, the jet black mare reached to the left of the machine and passed Tempest one of the trays, taking two cups on the tray she held on her back. “It’s nice to see Wily hasn't changed much after all this time.”

Tempest took the tray and loaded it up with the two cups of hot coffee. “I'm glad to hear she is what you remember five years ago.”

“She still sounds fun.” Cyclone commented as she walked carefully so as not to spill the coffee on her yellow dress. “I mean, yeah, shits happened and stuff but despite that she still sounds and looks like our Wily.”

“Then…I'm glad you didn't meet her two weeks ago when Airy and I first met her.”

Curious at that, Cyclone stopped and looked at the violet weather pony. “Hmm, why? What happened?”

Likewise, Tempest paused and looked at the young pegasus for a good few moments, considering her reply. Eventually she made her mind up. “I think…we need to arrange a class reunion of the study buddies.” She said carefully. “I really think that is a story to be told once.”

“Alright,” Cyclone nodded her agreement. Whatever it was that had happened couldn’t be that bad, surely? “That should be easy to sort out.”

“Maybe.” Tempest sighed and gave a little yawn. It was still early for her. “Raid and Darkie are moving to Manehatten. Brightstar lives in Fillydelphia. Is Slingshot still local?”

“I don't know.” Cyclone admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. “Slingshot and Raid had a big fall out a few years back. We haven't seen or heard from him since.”

Tempest shook her head. “You young ponies and your drama.”

Cyclone struggled to hold in her giggles, and failed, utterly. “After Darkie was attacked, Raid missed a lot of races and tournaments to care for her privately. As a result, their team slipped in the rankings. Understandably, perhaps, Slingshot got pissy about it and accused Raid of trying to get Darkie in bed.”

“Subject to explore later,” Tempest stated definitely. “For now we need to complete this coffee delivery and engage in some light hearted conversation 'till you go to work and we leave.”

The jet black mare grinned. “I couldn't agree more.”

Tempest led the way back to Cyclone’s office and delivered Airmail her coffee, setting the tray down on the table in front of her. “So,” Airmail started as she sniffed the wonder that was her coffee, “based on some stories I've heard, how do you find life in Cloudsdale, Cyclone?”

“Sweet Flanks,” the black mare smiled as she laid her own tray in front of Wildfire, “your coffee is served, my lady.”

“Oh, shut up…” Wildfire giggled and took up her vending machine coffee. “Thanks, Cy.”

“Oh, you mean my fear of heights, Airy?” Cyclone asked, turning to the azure blue mare as she took her own seating pad behind her desk. “I took therapy and got over it, mostly, and besides flying a few feet over firm clouds is like flying over the ground.”

Airmail accepted that and she took a welcome sip of her frankly awful coffee. “I'm not one to talk though. I've spent more time on the dirt than in the air.”

“We all live in a ground based house too.” Tempest put in as she too took a draught of the foul life giving liquid.

“Now,” Cyclone smiled a broad smile. This was just like old times. Good times. “What else has this bundle of fun been telling you about me?”

Airmail placed her half empty cup on Cyclone’s desk. “That you look pretty in red ribbon.” She said with a sly smile. Looking around her office she was struck as to how Spartan it was. Besides some awards for employee of the month, there was precious little in the way of personal effects.

Wildfire and Cyclone both snorted with laughter, both were thankful that they weren’t drinking anything at that moment. “Yeah,” she laughed, “yeah Raid wasn't too pleased you got called in that evening, kiddo.”

Wildfire shrugged innocently. “It’s not my fault a fire broke out!”

Tempest nudged her in the ribs. “I'm sure it was totally her fault.”

“What about you Cy,” Airmail asked quickly before Wildfire could come back with a retort to that. “Do you have a significant other?”

Cyclone sipped her coffee slowly. “I'm afraid not. I’m single, sexy and all alone.”

At that, Airmail carefully examined Cyclone's flank. Even under the summer yellow dress, she could tell the young black pegasus was very toned, very fit. There was a slight bulge to the back of her dress at the rump which she couldn’t quite put her hoof on, but that didn’t detract from her cuteness in the slightest. “Why do the young ones always look so cute Stormy? Like you,” she added quickly.

Tempest rolled her blue eyes but she still gave her herd-mate an affectionate nuzzle. “Good save, Airy.”

“Alas! For 'tis both a blessing and a curse.” Cyclone giggled as she drained the rest of her coffee. “And, that was an excellent save, Tempest. Still, I thank Celestia daily for the vibrating teddy bear and the 'grizzly' setting…” she blushed then, so intensely that it showed even on her black cheeks. She’d worn out two of those during her last heat cycle.

“When you do come to visit I'll have to introduce you to the stallionator,” Tempest offered with a wry grin.

“Ooh you got one of those?” Cyclone asked. As it happened she too had two of them, a unicorn one and an earth pony one. Sadly it was no fun when they weren’t strapped onto a mare and that mare was bottoming out against her cervix. “Hmm, I do recall you saying on the phone that Thursdays were your fun nights.”

“Every fourth Thursday,” Airmail corrected her kindly. “This Thursday is gaming night. Second Thursday is intimate play night.”

“Sweet.” Cyclone started before a though occurred to her. “Are there any fetishes you don't allow? I've got a thing for foal play…”

“That is one fetish that will not have you welcomed.” Airmail interrupted very coldly indeed as she set her empty cup on the desk between her and the young black mare. “On that note, time to move along so Cyclone here can get to work.” With that, Airmail and Tempest both stood up.

“Thank you for the coffee,” Tempest said in a tone that said she had scraped something off of her hooves.

Cyclone blinked once then twice. Everything had been going so very well, and all of a sudden the nasty looks being shot her way from the older mares were palpable. Then, it hit her what she had said. Internally she facehooved. “Wait! Guys wait! I meant I like to wear nappies, not doing ‘that’ with actual foals!”

Sharing a loud vocal ‘look’, and many complicated ear flicks besides, Airmail and Tempest sat back down, relieved smiles back in place. “Apologies, Cyclone. You just struck a chord with Airy there.”

“Yes, I’m sorry for that.” Airmail offered the young mare an apologetic smile. “I thought killing you in front of Wily would be bad form. Mapper would love to do some adult foal play stuff and that would be most welcome in the herd.”

“Eew! Ew no! I wouldn't touch a foal, that’s sick!” Very, very unpleasant memories of the incident with Cinabelle in the park back in Canterlot when she had been under the influence of the age regression potions came back to her then. All the scandal. The deal she had made to leave her home, the long fight she’d had to clear her name. “It’s just…after running around after my boss all day it’s kinda nice to slip a nappy on, get a foal bottle and chill in my crib, y'know?”

“Willing to wear it in public,” Tempest asked, a little light going off then in her head as she connected the dots together, “Say with a cute yellow dress to cover the nappy?”

“Sure thing,” Cyclone stood up and reached for the hem of her dress and pulled it up, revealing the padded pink garment covering her rump. “There aren't many things I'm not up for.”

Wildfire giggled at that. “Yuppers, I remember!”

“A zebra, Caffienated, is our host, but a unicorn, Mapper is the Master of Ceremonies.” Airmail explained, now far more at ease with the young black pegasus now she had seen the nappy under the dress. “It can be fun, embarrassing, and very often silly.”

“This Mapper sounds as much fun as the rest of you.” Cyclone grinned as she relaxed back on to her seating pad. “Please message me nearer the time and I'll come with my foal supplies, if that's okay?”

“My Mistress is a lot of fun Cy,” Wildfire spoke up, “you'll like her.”

Cyclone raised an eyebrow at that. That certainly caught her attention. “Mistress, huh?” She smiled as Airmail and Tempest both nodded. Giving them a delighted little snigger, she said; “You always were a kinky little mare. Well done you, kiddo.”

“Yuppers,” Wildfire giggled, “thanks…”

One thing however struck a note with Cyclone now that they were all at ease once more. “Um…now Airy, when you say you'd kill me, do you actually mean ‘kill’ as in kill?”

“Aaaand on a better note,” Airmail said as she stood up for a second time, though this time there was a much more pleasant look on her face than before. “We really do need to be going. Thank you very much, for the visit.”

“And the coffee.” Tempest smiled good-naturedly as she too stood up, this time nudging Wildfire so that the little blind mare also stood up ready to go.

“Oh, you're all very welcome, anytime.” Cyclone got up and walked around her desk to give Wildfire a huge hug and a bigger kiss straight to her lips. “You’re still cute, Sweet Flanks.”

As they were stood, Airmail and Tempest made sure to get their hugs too, and when it was her turn, Tempest kissed the black mare’s cheek and she whispered, “till next time, sexy.”

Cyclone made sure to hug Tempest as she had been hugged in turn, “Message me nearer the Thursday…” she added with a whisper, “sexy.”

Tempest kissed her nose. “Sure thing.”

“Awesome.” Cyclone opened her office door and she saw them out into the hall to the reception area. “I'll be there. Clear skies to you all.”

~ ~ ~

Outside of Cyclone’s office, as the trio of pegasi made their way through the Weather Offices reception area, Airmail gave voice to a thought in her head. “Wily, please give Dusky a call and let him know we’re on our way. We’re about thirty minutes out.”

“Alrighty Pretty!” Wildfire, following Airmail’s summer green tail through the corridors of City Hall to the plaza outside, reached into her bag and retrieved her cell phone. As ever it was on speaker when she dialled the Prince’s number. Four rings later and she heard her best friend answer. “hey D…”

“Wrong stallion, Wildfire,” Brush Stroke interrupted her quietly with a smile on his mid blue face.

“Oh…oh, hey Oils,” Wildfire’s cheeks flushed at her slight error, “I’m just letting you know we'll be at yours in about half an hour.”

“For the flight to Manehatten?” The earth pony artist couldn’t have sounded less enthusiastic had he tried. “Oh, joy. Well, here’s our new address, look for the three storey house by the lake with a pink heart weather vane.”

“Wily,” Airmail asked as Wildfire cancelled the call, “did Dusky or Oils tell you the new address?”

“Yuppers,” Wildfire replied, storing her cell phone back in her saddlebag before they took off for Ponyville, “Oils did before we hung up, it’s the only three story house on the street.”

The short thirty minute flight from Cloudsdale down to Ponyville was more of a glide than a flight, and it was an uneventful glide at that. Soon enough though, the three pegasi approached the outskirts of the suburban town. Once a small backwater, since the Princess of Librarians lived there now, with a castle and all, Ponyville was more like ten thousand plus inhabitants by now. With Ponyville proper in view, Airmail scanned the buildings for a place that matched Wildfire's description. “The glide down's been quite nice,” Wildfire commented as they levelled off, “My wings are holding up alright so far.”

At Wildfire’s right side, Tempest smiled. “Your controlled falling is quite excellent.”

Wildfire giggled as they flew slowly up above the streets and houses through the clear blue sky. “It’s better than uncontrolled.”

Tempest couldn’t argue with that, not at all. “To be sure, Stealth Pony.”

Flying along, Airmail scanned the houses by the few lakes in Ponyville. After several minutes, her sniper’s keen eye at last spotted one that was the most likely candidate for their destination. A few hundred yards away from them was a very nice white and black timber framed three storey building with a thatched roof. “That must be that place there,” the azure blue mare said as she pointed with her forehoof, “That one with the cute heart weather vane.”

“A cute weather vane?” Wildfire asked as they changed their course, “that's so Dusky!” When Airmail landed in front of the building in question moments later, she added the house number to her phone’s contacts memory. With her hooves on the crazy paving path, Wildfire felt her way up to the front door. “Hmm, I should maybe add this address to my headset while we're here.”

“A good plan,” Airmail agreed.

Wildfire giggled, “I do have them y’know, now and again.”

Tempest nudged Wildfire’s shoulder with a grin that reached her voice. “Would you like the honours of knocking, Wildfire?”

“I would, Stormy!” At the painted white wooden door, the diminutive blind mare gave her customary two knocks and waited patiently for them to be let inside the new house.

Seconds later, Brush Stroke opened the door with a pleasant smile on his face. “Oh hello!” he greeted them and brushed his red and yellow mane from his eyes, “do come inside, ladies.”

“Thank you good sir.” Airmail gave him a polite nod as they walked inside the house. She looked all around and she liked what she saw. Unpainted, the hardwood panels had been varnished with a lacquer that brought out the natural grain of the wood. To say a Prince lived here it was understated, nicely decorated with bookcases and seating pads. “I must say your wife has excellent taste in decorations.”

“Thank you Airmail,” Brush Stroke returned Airmail’s nod, “you could compliment her yourself if she was awake.” He sniggered playfully, “would somepony like to go and jump on our bed?”

In a very dramatic voice, Airmail reared up and declared, “That is a job for Stealth Pony!”

“Ooh yuppers!” Wildfire giggled, “I'll do that. Gimme the directions Oils, I'll take care of it…” she trailed off to a giggle. A somewhat sinister giggle as she planned just how she was going to wake up her best friend. The way she knew he hated. This was going to be perfect! And so much fun!

Brush Stroke had to admire the young mare’s enthusiasm. Scary thought it was. “The stairs are directly in front of you, about ten feet, then it’s the second door on your left, Wildfire.”

“Alrighty,” Wildfire snickered and crept off up the stairs imagining she was a ninja assassin. “I'm on it!”

Tempest couldn’t help but giggle as she watched the little blind mare playfully sneak away up the stairs. She was instantly reminded of the night that Airmail and a very drunken Wildfire had tied a ribbon on her tail. Turning to their very gracious host, she asked, “What do you think of the small city so far?”

“It’s quite lovely,” Brush Stroke replied as he showed them around his new living room. “It’s about as different from Manehatten as it’s possible to get. I absolutely love the scenery around here…” he paused at the bar that stretched across half the length of the far wall. “Can I get you drinks while the wife is being woken up?”

“Not to be ungrateful for your hospitality,” Airmail answered quickly as she took a seating pad at the bar, “but do you have something other than tea?”

Stepping behind his bar, the earth pony stallion grinned and threw open the doors of a large double cupboard to show off a vast array of drinks. “Name your poison, we probably have it here.” He said with a deserved degree of pride at his alcoholic collection.

“Coffee with cream,” Airmail ordered with a smile.

Tempest knew exactly what she needed, seeing as it was still before noon and she was awake. “Coffee with Red Bull.”

“Easy.” With that, the artist bustled off to the kitchen to fix the drinks for his guests, as well as one for his partner and Wildfire too. “I do apologise for Dusky, we were having a lovely evening last night when Luna called about eight-ish. Something about an urgent royal job she had for Dusky to do, she left straight away and didn't get back till four a.m. this morning.”

“A royal job?” Airmail asked with a giggle, “Maybe her sister needed a...”

“Airy...” Tempest interrupted her herd-mate with a very deep frown on her face.

“What?” Airmail asked, feigning all ignorance and innocence. “Flight lesson. I was going to say flight lesson…” Tempest merely rolled her blue eyes and said nothing to that, though she doubted that was what the older pegasus was going to say.

“Well,” Brush Stroke called from the kitchen, “whatever the job was, it took her long enough. She was straight in the bath for almost an hour before crawling into bed earlier.”

Tempest decided to change the subject. Looking around the living room she saw a large three by two foot painting of two earth pony stallions – one with a wheelchair strapped to his hindquarters – and while she didn’t recognise them, she knew the background instantly. She’d been to Trottingham Castle many times as a filly. It put her in mind of her parents. “My parents and brother live in Trottingham.” She waved her violet hoof at the painting. “Who do you know there?”

Brush Stroke saw her looking at the painting of his fathers and smiled. “My parents live there, a lovely pair of stallions they are too.”

“It is a lovely city,” Tempest commented as she thought back to the royal theatres and the castle tours.

Airmail too admired the large painting. “At the risk of being rude, do you stay in touch with your surrogate mother?”

“Oh it’s not like that,” Brush Stroke explained as he carried the drinks into the living room from the kitchen on a tray balanced perfectly on his back. “I was adopted from the orphanage in Trottingham when I was three years old. I don't recall my actual parents.” He said as he hoofed out the drinks to Airmail and Tempest.

“Oh…” Airmail said quietly, a faraway look on her face.

Tempest stepped in, forcing the coffee into her marefriend’s hooves. “Airy has less than good memories of orphanages.”

“I'm sorry to hear that, Airy.” Setting his own and Dusk’s drinks down on the bar, the mid blue earth pony stallion went around the bar and gave the troubled pegasus a very big hug. “To be honest, I don't really remember the orphanage at all. I would've been none the wiser if Starbright and Dandelion hadn't sat me down one day and told me.”

“I'm glad you also found loving parents,” Airmail muttered morosely, determined to not be comforted by the hugs she was getting. “I'm sure you took to them quicker than I did.”

“I probably did, I certainly hope so anyway.” He shrugged and tightened the hug to earth pony standards. “I'm sure Dandelion would tell you different.”

“Thank you for the drinks.” Tempest smiled as she took a welcome sip of the caffeine cocktail. “I'm not a morning pony either.”

Airmail finally smiled, her good mood returning quickly to banish her maudlin thoughts away to the recesses of her mind where they belonged. “You think Wily got lost?” She asked with a sly grin.

Right at that moment, as if on cue, Dusk’s voice – not at all mare-like – came shouting from the upstairs. “WILDFIRE! What in Celestia's name are you doing!? N-No…not tha…AAAAAAAH!”

“Ah…” Brush Stroke smiled, not missing a beat or flinching in the slightest at the scream from upstairs. “My little sweetie is awake, it seems.”

“Airy,” Tempest snickered as she took a sip of her drink, “please remind me to not ask Wily what she did to wake her. I'm most likely not old enough to know.”

Looking like a pegasus that had just been exhumed from the depths of the Everfree forest after three months of exile, Dusk Melody came staggering down the stairs, muttering darkly as he ran a hoof through his bedraggled charcoal grey mane in a futile attempt to work out some off the knots. “Stupid…mare…of all the...damn pegasus!”

In a stark contrast to the very tired looking effeminate stallion, Wildfire bounced along next to her best friend, ignorant to his dark mutterings. “Aww cheer up, it’s too lovely a morning to be in bed!”

Brush Stroke saw the disgruntled look on his coltfriend’s face and decided against pushing his Sub too much too soon. “Tea, sweetheart?” he asked pleasantly.

“Earl grey, hot...” Dusk mooched over to the bar and slumped onto a seating pad, resting his head on the bar top. When his messy mane fell over his pink eyes he realised his sour mood. “Sorry love, um, thank you.”

“Well, I hear you mom is keeping you busy with duties!” Airmail said brightly as she sipped her coffee. “Will you still be coming over on Thursday?”

“Good morning Airy, Stormy…” Dusk nodded, his mane still draped over his face, not bothering to swipe it out of the way. If it was dark he could pretend to be asleep. “If by 'busy' you mean flying to Las Pegasus and then to Baltimare to take out some trash, yes I've been busy.”

Wildfire giggled behind her hoof, “Dusky you're so cranky in the mornings!”

“You think so, Wily?” Airmail giggled, “I’m sure Dusky could take cranky lessons from Stormy.”

“I'm sure I could,” Dusk muttered in reply from under the messy cover of his tangled mane, though his midnight blue fur looked no better, “and I'm sure you could've found a better way of waking me up!”

Airmail shot Tempest a sly look and decided some teasing was in order. “Tongue to the…” she had to fight a giggle when the violet weather pony clapped her hooves to her ears and sung ‘La la la la la’ in order to drown her out. “To the ear?” she asked, sticking her tongue out at her herd-mate.

A breath of air that blew his mane from covering his face was the only outward sign that Dusk was alive. “To the ear would've been better than where she ended up putting it…”

While Wildfire busied herself with an evil snigger, Brush Stroke placed the cup of earl grey tea on the bar inches in front of Dusk’s twitching muzzle. “Here's your tea, my love.”

For the next ten minutes nopony said anything while the five ponies drank their coffees and their tea. Dusk Melody licked his lips with relish as he swallowed the last of his earl grey. The transformation between semi-dead stallion to slightly aware pony was remarkable indeed. “Right…” he yawned once then twice, “I just need to get dressed, I shouldn't need more than half an hour.”

The smile that Brush Stroke wore on his face was tangible. “Why don’t you wear the red dress, love?”

Dusk smiled and the effeminate stallion pulled himself to his hooves, walking over and kissing his dominant coltfriend full on his lips. “Just for you, sweetie.” He kissed him again before hurrying off back up the stairs to the bedroom to get changed. He loved it so very much when he took control of him like that.

“Would you all like some more coffee?” Brush Stroke asked after he watched his submissive lover scurry away. He loved that aspect of his Dusk so very much but, good host as he was, he’d noticed that his guests had emptied their respective cups.

“Please,” Airmail said, nudging her cup over to the mid blue earth pony stallion. “But, with Dusky rushing like that, we may need to hurry to finish it,” she finished with a barely contained giggle.

“Cream and sugar this time, please.” Tempest requested, also offering the stallion her empty up. “I think I'm properly awake now.”

“Coffee, black with two sugars please, Oils.” Wildfire gave him her order with a smile, still proud of her little self for the way she had woken up her best friend.

Brush Stroke nodded politely to each mare as he took the cups on the tray and put it on his back. “Certainly ladies.” In the kitchen he started fixing the drinks for them all, as well as another earl grey for his sweetheart. “And you're right Airy, thirty minutes is a rush. By the way, is it normal to take two hours to get dressed?”

Tempest shrugged her shoulders. “Depends on the mare and what she is wearing.”

“Yes,” Airmail thought with a grin, “many of the theatre mares in our herd can take some time.” Now she thought about it, she could easily see the Prince taking that long to turn himself into his Dom’s ‘Princess’. “Though, two hours does seem to be more of a gala preparation.”

Brush Stroke chuckled, “That's her just going to the shops.” He hoofed out the drinks and set the earl grey down ready for his lover, “not that I really mind, but I can paint something in that time.”

For the next hour, the three pegasi mares and the earth pony stallion shared small talk about the upcoming trip to Trottingham. Tempest told the very nervous artist that the planned was sixty to seventy miles per hour, depending on wind direction. They discussed the sights in Trottingham to visit for Wildfire who hadn’t been there before. Presently, after sixty minutes – in which Brush Stroke had made another round of drinks – ‘Princess’ Dusky walked down the stairs. “I’m ready!” She pranced down the stairs, a complete picture of a mare in a flowing red dress, red lip gloss, red gloss on her hooves and silver highlights in her wings. A light blue collar and her charcoal mane tied in a ponytail completed the image. “So, will I do?”

Tempest’s mouth was hanging open, almost to the floor. If she didn’t know better she would’ve taken the Prince for a natural mare any day of the week without a second thought. ‘She’, was gorgeous. Stunning, even. “I think you'd do for an official visit to your mum's.”

“Oh, that's alright then,” Dusky smiled a relieved smile, “Because this is more important than that, I'm going to be meeting the parents later.”

“Well I think you'll do just fine, my love.” Brush Stroke smiled, proud of the effect his lover was having on the older pegasus.

“Speaking of the parents,” Tempest said with a shake of her head to clear the cobwebs, “would you both like to meet mine?”

Dusky nodded eagerly at his dominant partner with a smile. With a nod, Brush Stroke replied, “we'd love to Tempest, thank you for the kind offer. You're all welcome to meet mine, too.”

“There is one small problem meeting mine.” Tempest spoke up, finally managing to pull her mind out of the gutter it was in, with the things she wanted to do to the Princess. “They live in the cloud district of Trottingham. I'm sure we could meet up at a ground restaurant unless you have cloud walking access Dusky. Of course, there is a unicorn at City Hall that will cast a four hour spell for a small fee.”

Dusky walked up to her lover and nuzzled his cheek, making sure he saw the collar around her neck. “We'll have to make use of the City Hall unicorn, Miss Tempest.”

“That's no trouble,” Brush Stroke returned the nuzzle and added a chaste kiss to his mare’s cheek. “I may not like speed, but I'm rather looking forward to the experience of walking on a cloud.”

Airmail, silent until now as like Tempest she was thinking of all the naughty things she could do with this ‘mare’, said; “I wish all problems were so easily resolved. Lavatory, please?”

“Don't we all?” Dusky commented before she pointed upstairs with her wing. “The bathroom is upstairs, Miss Airmail. First floor, first door on the left.”

“Thank you,” Airmail grinned, feeling the three coffees she’d had in Dusky’s house as well as the one she’d had in Cyclone’s office wanting to make a reappearance. “Seeing as coffee can only be rented.” With that, the azure blue mare trotted off upstairs in search of the much needed bathroom.

Busy finishing her third sugary black coffee, Wildfire had been busy sniffing and listening to everything that had been said so far. Something however did catch her attention. “Um…'miss'? What's that about, D?”

Brush Stroke beckoned his Sub to him and he lovingly stroked Dusky's charcoal grey mane. “Simple manners Wildfire, right my love?”

Dusky nodded with a relaxed compliant smile. She really loved it when her Master stroked her mane like that, he dug his hoof in just enough to pull, but not enough to hurt. “Of course, Sir.”

Tempest nodded her agreement. She had completely missed the addition of the collar to the Princess’s neck. “Yes Wily.”

“Yuppers,” Wildfire couldn’t help but be confused. “But…D knows us!”

“Still,” Dusky smiled, trying really very hard to not get lost in her world of mane-stroking pleasure. This was made harder when the earth pony began scratching his ear. “M-Master Brush Stroke likes the niceties to be observed, Miss Wily.”

“While I'll not argue against that,” Tempest commented, “there is a time and place for such formalities.”

Brush Stroke considered that for just a moment. Of course he liked his mare just as she was right now, but he saw the violet pony’s point. “You're right, Tempest.” His mind made up, he stopped stroking Dusky’s mane – which earned him a whine of disappointment – and said clearly, “I’ll take the collar off for now I think.” Reaching behind his mare’s neck, he unbuckled and removed the light blue collar. “Better, my love?”

Dusky nodded and blinked her pink eyes with a sigh, almost instantly her entire aspect changed. “Hmm, thanks babe.”

“I totally missed that.” Tempest blushed a little uncharacteristic blush at her slip. “I’m sorry everypony. Wily, Dusky was wearing a collar and she was under certain rules.”

“Oooh…” Realisation washed over the diminutive yellow pegasus like a very cold shower. Now she understood clearly the use of the honorific that her best friend had used in relation to Tempest and herself. “Oh...like Wildflower you mean?”

“Don't worry about it Stormy,” Dusky smiled warmly, smoothing out her red dress down her flanks. “So what's the flight plan, steady two hundred and fifty miles per hour all the way to Trottingham?”

“Airy briefed your passenger on our flight plan.” Tempest tried very hard to stifle her sniggers at the stunned look on Brush Stroke’s face. Tempest failed. Miserably. “Of course, you can stick to your own flight plan.”

“Sweetie,” Brush Stroke said in the tone of one chiding a naughty foal, adding a gentle but firm bite to his mare’s ear for good measure, “we'll be sticking to sixty so we can fly with these nice mares and enjoy their fine company.”

Playfully, Dusky pouted as he flicked his bitten ear. “Fine, I can do that my love.”

Wildfire giggled behind her hoof, “Well when I get tired D, you can give me a lift too.”

“Wily's wings were healed less than two weeks ago.” Airmail said as she came back down the stairs having used the toilet and fastidiously cleaning her hooves until they literally shone. “We have her on a slow, but steady training program.” She continued to explain as she trotted through the living room to nuzzle Wildfire’s cheek. “Which is why we are flying back east.”

“Yes, Airy,” Dusky Melody nodded politely to the azure blue mare. “My mom did say something about your wings being healed, Wily. Does that explain the landscaping to the trees below the castle?” She asked playfully.

Wildfire gave a considerable blush at being reminded of her misadventure with Mapper following the excellent meal in the restaurant four days ago now, last Thursday. With the pink unicorn’s assistance the morning after in the private dining room of the castle, the blind mare was at least over that by now. “It was a good job my Mistress was there.”

Tempest raised a sardonic eyebrow at Dusky. “You think it was Wildfire that rearranged the forest?”

Dusky let out a very feminine little giggle. She wasn’t surprised in the slightest that Mapper was involved in some way. “Not on her own, no, but I had a feeling she had a hoof in it somehow.”

“That would be a fine story to listen to as we fly,” Airmail joined Dusky in her giggles. She was again struck by just how convincing a mare the royal stallion made. As she shot her covetous looks of her flank, highlighted by the red dress, the azure blue mare had to keep reminding herself she had the wrong equipment under that dress. “I'm sure Wildfire would love to share it.”

“Yuppers,” Wildfire giggled, “it is a very fine story, and I'll be sure to add a dragon or two in the retelling of it.”

“Well, I'm ready,” Airmail smiled. She had no doubt at all that Wildfire’s retelling would equal the grand sagas of the eldenponies themselves, but that was for the trip. She’d checked the clock, and pleasant though this visit was, and as nice as it was to at last see the new house that Dusky and Brush Stroke were calling home, they were wasting daylight. Playfully she nudged Tempest off of her seating pad. “I take you'll piss on some poor unsuspecting pony during the flight?”

“I will not!” Tempest put on her best ‘affronted mare’ voice as she ushered Wildfire off of her pad with a waft of her black tail under her yellow nose, “I'll let them know or just pee on a cloud and let the weather team pick a target.”

Getting up to her hooves, Wildfire giggled, “I like that idea!”

Dusky nuzzled his dominant lover. “We're ready, aren't we sweetie?”

Brush Stroke resigned himself to the inevitable as sure as if he’d had a death sentence laid upon him. “Ugh…” the mid blue stallion sighed, getting up and looking around his new living room like he’d never see it again, “as I'll ever be…”

Dusky wrapped her forelegs around her stallion’s neck and lovingly kissed his lips. “One day, you'll love to fly,” she smiled and kissed him a second time.

Swallowing his sigh and his retort, Brush Stroke simply kissed his Dusky’s lips. “I'm beginning to warm up to the idea…”

“Hasn't she taken you above twenty thousand feet yet?” Tempest asked playfully, making sure to address the royal pony correctly, given her attire, as they walked over to the front door.

Brush Stroke paused and gaped open-mouthed at that. He was only just warming to the idea of flying at all, let alone even entertain going up that high. “Why…why would you do such a thing?”

Dusky had anticipated this and had just the argument ready at hoof to counter the naturally acrophobic earth pony stallion. “Love, imagine the stunning landscapes you can paint from Cloudsdale's point of view…”

Wildfire well understood pony’s fears, from her time at the home. Earth ponies were acrophobic like pegasi were claustrophobic. The blind mare decided she’d try and help. “Now, that would be cool!”

“You may want more than a scarf though,” Tempest snickered.

Despite his race’s aversion to flying and heights in general, Brush Stroke surprised himself when he found himself giving it some serious thought. “Still Tempest,” he said as he reached for his house keys, “I suppose the idea has merit.”

“We just came from Cloudsdale,” Airmail started as she moved alongside Wildfire’s left flank. “I'm a bit surprised you haven't visited with Oils yet, Dusky.”

That got Dusky’s attention. Her ears went upright. “What were you doing in Cloudsdale?”

It was little Wildfire who answered that as Brush Stroke opened the door to the suburban town and let the mares leave the house first. “Do you remember Cyclone? We spoke with her on the train the other day and she said she worked in Cloudsdale, so Honey thought it would be cool to meet her. It was nice, catching up with her.”

“And we pushed Wily on the twenty thousand feet climb up to Cloudsdale,” Tempest added as she left first and waited on the path for them to join her.

“And before you ask D,” Wildfire put in, “I managed it just fine.”

Dusky had to confess herself a little affronted at that. “I wasn't gonna say a word Wily, obviously you did okay, you’re here.”

Once they had all exited the three storey lakeside house and Brush Stroke had checked and double checked that his front door was locked, Airmail spoke up to Wildfire. “My transponder is still active. We're going to cruise at five thousand feet and we will go southeast, circling around the Everfree Forest.”

Tempest for one was very relieved to hear that her herd-mate had taken the notoriously dangerous region into consideration. “Yeah, that thing still has some of the wackiest weather in Equestria.” It also housed nine-tenths of the monsters that the magical land was famous for, but that was neither here-nor-there.

“Alrighty Pretty!” Wildfire activated her flight headset and once it was requesting a destination via the earpiece in her left ear, the diminutive yellow mare selected ‘Trottingham’, and she was immediately gifted with the south eastern coastal city’s direction and distance from their present location.

“That’s probably for the best, Airy,” Dusky agreed and turned to her coltfriend as he put the house keys away in his pouch. “Are you getting on, babe?”

“Oh…oh alright…” the mid blue earth pony climbed up carefully onto his mare’s back, but before he got comfortable, a thought occurred to him. “Do you want your collar back on, my love?”

Dusky nodded with a grateful smile. “Yes please, Sir.”

“Wily, you're first.” Tempest called from her position at Wildfire’s right side once the four pegasi were in the air in a loose diamond formation with Airmail at its head and Dusky with her passenger behind them. She watched Ponyville pass underneath them as they all climbed up to their planned cruise altitude. “Tell us all about your flight from the restaurant to the palace.”

“Alrighty, Honey…” Wildfire didn’t say anything else for a few minutes as she was listening to her headset call out her increasing altitude. She didn’t want to overshoot the five thousand limit. “Well as you know, you lot were all showing off, doing tricks and stuff. Mistress Mapper asked me to do a couple of barrel rolls, so I did, then I did a loop the loop into a little corkscrew dive. Mistress said she liked it so I asked her if she wanted to do it again. She said yes, but she also asked for a bigger dive. So, I asked Mistress to tell me when we'd cleared the Canterlot city walls and then I did an inverted spiral dive. It was only when Mistress alerted me to pull up that I found I was struggling to do so.”

All through Wildfire’s little story, Airmail had remained quiet so she could listen. When the little yellow mare paused however, she asked, “Why were you struggling?”

“My wings felt like two lead weights.” Wildfire answered honestly. “They just wouldn't do what I wanted them to do. The more I struggled the heavier they felt. If Mistress Mapper hadn't been there to remove the trees from in front of me, I would've smeared us all over them I'm sure of it. Then I tried flying us back up the mountain and I just couldn't. I barely managed the glide down to the ground.”

Tempest nodded her understanding. This matched the abridged version they had heard and put together themselves. “But, didn't Mapper do something so you could fly faster on the way down?” She asked curiously.

Wildfire nodded her head when she levelled out at five thousand feet. “Yuppers, she did…” once they had completed the diversion around the Everfree, she continued; “Mistress Mapper told me to take a deep breath just before she removed the air resistance in front of us. It was a most...odd experience.”

Now Tempest understood what had happened. Hearing that last piece of the puzzle put everything together. “Being a unicorn, I think she forgot that no air equals no lift for the wings,” the violet weather pony explained for Brush Stroke’s benefit. “Mapper took a calculated risk, and won.”

“Only just, Stormy.” Wildfire commented solemnly. “I gave up at five thousand feet, with my wings how they were I know for absolute sure I wouldn't have made the rest of the climb.”

“You should give Mapper a ride someday, Dusky.” Airmail called over her shoulder as she adjusted her course to head straight to Trottingham now they were clear of the Everfree.

Dusky grinned, interested indeed by that suggestion. “I'd love to Miss Airmail,” she replied, the honorific back in use now that the collar was back around her neck. “How fast do you think she'd like?”

Airmail considered that for a brief moment. “I doubt that Mapper has an upper limit.”

“Well,” Dusky commented, shrugging a little as the easy fifty mile per hour pace was frankly boring her tail off something awful. “We can always put that to the test,” she thought, wishing very much to see how the pink unicorn would cope with a sonic rainboom. She noticed then that her Master tightened his grip on her flanks. “How are you enjoying the ride, Sir?”

Brush Stroke couldn’t help but blush that he’d been called out. Of course his mare had noticed him squeeze her flanks. In truth he hated this so much, but he did trust his soon-to-be wife. “I-I'm doing j-just fine love, you're comfortable?” he asked cautiously, concerned about the talk of struggling fliers.

Dusky sighed. Comfortable? Yes. Bored? Yes. Still she was flying and, more importantly, she was flying with her beloved stallion as a passenger. That made up for the slow pace. “I could do this all day, Sir,” she replied with a smile.

“Did your mum and your mom tell you about their Friday with Mapper and Serenity, Dusky?” Tempest asked curiously. Looking back at the royal pegasus, the violet weather pony could see she was as bored as she was. She’d stretch her wings soon, she was sure of that.

“Yes Miss Tempest,” Dusk replied quickly. “Both of them saw fit to impart all the details…” she shuddered underneath Brush Stroke, a shudder that made him clench all the tighter. Dusky emphasised the ‘all’, and that made Tempest and Airmail laugh out loud. “That's what lead to helping them with making the nursery, which was why mom made the stars for Ms. Mapper and Ms. Serenity, after your little dream gathering.”

After a few minutes of flight, Airmail and Tempest’s laughter dissolved into a lengthy giggle fit. Eventually, when they’d both giggled themselves out, Airmail asked; “Are you ready to be a big brother?”

Dusky pondered that. Ever since her parents had told her about their plans for a second foal, she’d been made up. Over the moon, as it were. “Big brother or big sister,” the midnight blue pegasus grinned, “I'm really looking forward to it, Miss Airmail.”

“Hey D,” Wildfire called back to her best friend, “Is your little sis gonna be like a cousin to mine and Serenity’s fillies?”

This time, Dusky didn’t need to think that over. “I think that's the idea, Miss Wily, and it’s a good one, I might add.”

Tempest’s mischievous streak got the better of her then. She couldn’t resist a little humour at their friend’s expense. “You know, if you and Oils hurry, you can make sure she is born an Auntie…” she said, thoroughly unable to contain her mirthful glee at her own joke.

On Dusky’s back, Brush Stroke blinked once then he blinked a second time as the violet mare’s words – although playful and intended as such – sank into his brain and began to take root. “A-Adopt our own, you mean, Tempest?” The artist asked in wonder, the roots of the perfect idea starting to grow into a beautiful little flower.

“Sorry, that was in poor humour.” Tempest blushed. She really hadn’t been serious, and the last thing she thought of was that her throwaway comment might be taken as such. “Well…um, only if the two of you are ready of course. Any foal deserves all your love.”

“Oh, not at all Tempest.” Brush Stroke waved a hoof in the air to stow her protestations, then he quickly held back on tight to his mare’s back. “What do you think, love?” He asked hopefully. As it happened, his dad Dandelion had been on at him for years to give them a grand-foal. He’d always blown them off before.

Dusky thought about it for a moment. She’d never considered a foal before. Those years with Vocal Chord and being a ‘typical’ royal, as Air Raid had so disparagingly called him back then, thoughts of a foal had been ridiculous. Now though, with Brush Stroke, it sounded perfect. “I like the idea Sir, I like it a lot.”

Brush Stroke couldn’t believe it. So excited was he to hear his mare’s agreement that he almost let go of his grip with his forehooves and cheered. Luckily he caught himself at the last moment and instead contented himself with kissing her ear. “Dusky, my love, are you sure about adopting? It's a big step…”

“I'm sure Sir,” Dusky replied, glancing over at Airmail in order to catch her eye. “We do need a very long chat first though.”

Airmail did indeed notice the royal pegasus looking meaningfully at her. “Nappy duty will be expensive!” She giggled playfully, although she agreed with Dusky’s sentiment. Knowing what she knew, they’d need a long talk indeed.

“Worth every bit, I'm sure, Airy.” Brush Stroke smiled. He still couldn’t believe his mare was seriously considering this. “A chat about what, Dusky?” He asked. In truth he didn’t care. There was surely nothing his lover could tell him that could dampen this feeling he had now.

Dusky, with a very heavy heart, was about to divulge the secret of his recent ‘royal duties’ to his passenger when he caught Wildfire’s ears flicking in their direction. “Not now Sir, I don't want Miss Wildfire to hear.” He really didn’t want his best friend to know this aspect of what he did.

“Huh? Hear what?” Wildfire asked from her position in the diamond formation. She sounded disappointed that she might miss out on some prime gossip. “You talking about me, D?”

Airmail decided drastic measures were called for. She wholeheartedly agreed that Wildfire didn’t need to hear what Dusky had to say, as much as she agreed Oils needed to hear it. “You see Wily, when a couple want a foal the daddy pony and the mommy pony get together, but in the case of Dusky and Oils it is complicated…”

“Lalala!” Wildfire sang loudly, interrupting the older pegasus. “Lalalala! I don’t need to know!” Flapping her wings a little harder, she put on a burst of speed and flew on ahead of the group out of earshot.

Dusky sighed a very thankful sigh. “Good save, Miss Airmail.”

“I don't need to know either.” Tempest also had a very good idea what was about to be disclosed and, deciding she was much better off not knowing all the details, she put on a spurt of speed and easily caught up with Wildfire who was now leading the way to Trottingham.

“Well Dusky?” Brush Stroke asked, curiosity getting the better of him, “We're as alone as we're going to be up here, what do we need to chat about?”

“Miss Airmail knows what I'm going to tell you,” Dusky started almost reluctantly, knowing there was no going back now, “and after I do you may not want a foal with me.”

“Tell me what?” Brush Stroke looked exasperatedly over at Airmail who had closed the gap between them in the air. Curiosity was starting to give way to frustration, and he didn’t want that. “What's she on about, Airy?”

Airmail could see and practically sense the confusion on the earth pony’s face. She could sympathise with him. Still, she took a deep breath and prepared herself to help Dusky explain his ‘duties’. “One of your parents was in the Equestrian armed forces, correct Oils?” She asked, though she knew the answer.

“Why yes,” the artist nodded, “Captain Starbright was in the medical corps…”

“I'm happy to say I never needed his services.” Airmail spoke quickly, almost interrupting her newest friend. “I spent time in the forces too.” Again she took a deep breath. The prep was necessary to lay bare this aspect of herself.

“Were you really?” That certainly piqued Brush Stroke’s interest. “Where did you serve? My father was stationed in Canterlot during the changeling invasion.” Both of his parents had spoken with him at great length about the time of the war, and how they had married during the fighting.

Airmail let out a sad sigh indeed that seemed to come from the depths of her soul. “Back in '02.” Memories of the fighting came back to her like a very bad dream. And she never remembered her dreams for a reason. “Nasty business that. I was stationed in the city at the time. I wasn't assigned to any unit when I was in the field. Only during training. My job was to kill those that needed killing with no declared war at the time. Assassin would be a good job description for me.”

“Yes Airy,” Brush Stroke agreed vehemently, “the invasion was truly awful. Father lost a lot of good ponies that day to the Bugs.” He nodded when Airmail continued her explanation. “I understand you Airy, and I assume you were good at it, given that you're here now.”

“Good enough to retire,” Airmail mused, almost as much to herself as to her companions. “Of course, the work itself is never done, right Dusky?”

Dusky shook his head. “No Miss, Airmail, it isn’t.”

“Dusky?” Brush Stroke asked, his curiosity at maddening levels, he wished whatever it was, they’d both just tell him already. “What is it you have to tell me?”

Now it was Dusky’s turn to take a deep breath as she collected her thoughts together. “You know my royal duties, the ones mom rings me about at short notice, sometimes at night?”

“Yeeees?” Brush Stroke pushed impatiently. So impatient was he that he quite forgot they were flying along at five thousand feet. For once, he was quite distracted from the wondrous and scary view below.

“Sir…I-I'm an assassin.” When Brush Stroke inhaled a sharp intake of breath, the royal pegasus continued, “I take my targets from my mom, and in the ten days I've known you, my tally is seven.”

“Ha, ha teehee!” The mid blue artist laughed out loud on Dusky's back. This was comedy indeed! “You're joking...right?”

Airmail adjusted her flight and her speed so that she was right alongside the mid blue earth pony stallion, a deadpan look on her face. “It's good you can laugh about it, Oils.”

“No Sir,” Dusky felt a lead weight in ‘her’ chest where her heart should be. Of course Brush Stroke was disbelieving. Why wouldn’t he be? But then again, Dusk had played his part very well. Perhaps too well. Still, they either had a future or they didn’t. No going back now. “I'm not joking, and neither is Miss Airmail.”

“I-I'm not la-laughing about it...” Brush Stroke’s green eyes were wide in wonder. Dusk, his Dusky, the pony who fainted at nosebleeds and hid behind the couch cushions when a horror movie came on, a killer? Really? “You’re telling the truth…you're really assassins?”

Airmail had that sense of cold detachment about her, that reached her eyes and her voice. “I haven't killed anypony in over three years.”

Now the cat was out of the bag, as it were, Dusky found it easier to talk. “Sir, my first kill was eleven days ago.”

Brush Stroke put two and two together in his head. “You mean, the day before we met in Manehatten?”

“Yes Sir, that's right.”

The mid blue earth pony looked at Airmail as they flew along. There was ‘something’ about her demeanour now that just gave him the creeps. “What made you stop, Airy?”

“As I said I retired.” The cold detached, almost emotionless, tone was still present in Airmail’s voice. “Since that day I was recalled twice, and the last one was a unicorn that tried to rape me.”

Brush Stroke shivered. So much that Dusky felt it underneath him. As an experienced Dom, he was all about consent, and rape was the one thing he couldn’t countenance. “I ah, I take it he was unsuccessful?”

“No,” Airmail replied quickly. When she blinked and closed her brown eyes she could see the unicorn, his lifeless body dead before it hit the ground. “But…I decided there was no need for him to stand trial.”

“You have my sympathies, Airy.” He dearly wished the two stallions that had assaulted his dad, Dandelion, hadn’t stood trial either. Maybe then, they wouldn’t have gotten away with it. “Ah…” he shook his head to clear the unpleasant memory. “What made you start, Dusky?”

“Mom and I raided the care home where Miss Wildfire was living.” Dusky explained, no small degree of pride in her voice. “My mom took care of the other wardens, she offered me the head of the head warden. I took it.” Dusky closed her pink eyes as she flew. He could still see Amethyst Glory knelt before him. Defiantly taunting him as he readied his wingblades. He could see and smell the spray of her arterial blood as he severed her head from her shoulders. Since then, his blades had taken six more heads.

“Stuff happens,” Airmail said, sounding much more like herself now. “And corrective measures were taken. Same can be said for Dusky's actions.”

“You're right, Airy.” Brush Stroke commented. Again, his mind wandered to the two that had assaulted his dad. How the unicorn and the griffon had smirked when they left the courtroom. How the assault had been so violent his dad had been left with a limp, even now. “Um, Dusky…when you carry out these missions, you are, well…safe, aren't you?”

“As much as I can be, yes Sir,” Dusky replied honestly. “So far I've only received a few bruises.”

“What we are doing right now,” Airmail actually laughed a little, her good humour returning, “Would you classify that as safe?”

“Flying to Trottingham?” The artist asked, surprised by the question, “Yes I feel safe with Dusky, and the rest of you.”

At that, Airmail laughed out loud indeed. “We could get wing fatigue, there could be a sudden medical issue. Some crazy griffon could assault us from nowhere.” Airmail continued with a giggle, wondering why the earth pony’s face deadened at the mention of a griffon. “Yeah, we are safe as we take necessary precautions. Still, nothing is ever truly safe.”

“This is my point Sir.” Dusky said seriously, “on a hunt I try to be as safe as I can, but I cannot guarantee coming home to you. Do you still want a foal with me?”

“I would add that Dusky's trainer is far superior to my trainer.” Airmail offered helpfully, knowing full well that it was Luna herself that was teaching her son the arts of his craft.

Brush Stroke blinked a couple of times as he digested his mare’s question. There was however only one answer to that. “Yes Dusky, yes I do...” How could there be any other reply now that Tempest had put the idea into his head? “Ah…I take it your mom is your trainer?”

“Yes she is,” Dusky admitted, “now don't dismiss this out of hoof. This is what I do. I'm telling you so you understand what I do.” The royal pegasus sincerely hoped his coltfriend understood the gravity and the meaning of what he was telling him and why. “There might come a hunt I that don’t come back from.”

“That would be something that would bring me out of retirement and I'm an old pony.” Airmail stated in all seriousness.

Smiling, Dusky held out her hoof to Airmail for a bump, which the lead editor returned straight away. “Why, thank you Miss Airmail.”

“I'm going to ask then,” Brush Stroke spoke up, a thought suddenly in his head, “why the dresses and allowing me to be your Dom?”

Dusky’s smile grew ever larger at that. She didn’t need to think on it one bit. It was obvious. “Because they please you, I like pleasing you, and after a night at ‘work’, it’s nice having a pony that I trust in charge of me for a change.”

Airmail nodded her head. “Because our personal life need not be governed by our professional life.”

“Exactly that, Miss Airmail,” Dusky agreed, “Now Sir, I ask you this, to please be discreet. Aside from Miss Airmail, only Ms. Mapper, Ms. Serenity and Ms. Requiem know what I do. I'd like to keep it that way, please.”

“To add to that, the others know due to information shared with Luna, and our background checks.” Airmail explained simply, “Yes, you can imply what that means for you.”

“Not a word will pass these lips, I promise you my love, and I still would like a foal with you.” Brush Stroke made the promise with a delicate little kiss to Dusky’s ear before a rather awkward look came over him. “Um, while we're sharing, I should tell you Dusky, that my father Starbright, well, he hates the royals. When you meet him I was going to play down who you are.”

“Yeah, like that is a good idea…” Airmail snorted derisively through her nose. “Sorry, but this sounds like some personal alone time. I'll catch up to Stormy and Wily.”

As Airmail flapped her azure blue wings and zipped ahead to catch up with her herd-mate and her lover, Dusky shook her head. “Sir, don't down play anything, I'm amazingly comfortable with who I am. Your dad will either like me or not, that’s up to him.”

“Of course, you're right, Dusky…” Brush Stroke smiled as he kissed his lover’s ear once more, in that spot he knew she liked most.

~ ~ ~

“Hey Stormy,” Wildfire asked when her flight headset warned her that Point One had flown up to her right flank, “what do you suppose they're on about back there?”

Not for the first time, Tempest was rather pleased Wildfire was blind. It meant she could – not outright lie – bend the truth a little. “Oh…work and foals,” she answered, searching for something to elaborate on that. “You know the sort of thing, ‘because of my job are you sure we should’…etcetera, etcetera…you for example. You're going to be working in the fire department. Not a low risk job, and you want to have a foal.”

“Yuppers, that’s true,” Wildfire smiled, immediately put at ease, “although I can't imagine doing anything else, it’s like you and weather duty.”

Tempest nodded at that, breathing a sigh of relief that her misdirection had worked. “Jobs are only as safe as you make them.”

“Yuppers,” Wildfire adjusted her course just a little. For some reason she was drifting to the left all the time. “I know what you mean, good job I'm good at firefighting.”

“Dusky does whatever it is the nobility does,” Tempest giggled, “and there’s a risk that Oils might fall on a paint brush.”

“Ugh!” Wildfire snorted, “The nobility's just boring. Those paint brushes though can be real dangerous,” she joined in Tempest’s giggle before going quite serious. “Honey…speaking of dangerous jobs, I'm more worried about you.”

The violet weather pony’s heart wanted to melt then. She understood why her diminutive lover was so concerned. “I'm well past most of the dangerous stuff since I'm in charge of the battalion.”

“Y-Yuppers…” Wildfire however wasn’t consoled by that, at all. “But, you work with lightning, and you know what happened to my mum…”

“I do,” Tempest moved over in flight and glided long enough to gently stroke her left wing tip along Wildfire’s right side. “But, I rather like thunder and lighting and I respect its power.”

“Well…I won't ask you to be careful, because its lightning and you can’t, but, just...”

Gliding along Wildfire’s side, Tempest brushed her yellow cheek comfortingly with her largest primary feather. “I'll try very hard to be careful. After all, I want to be here to spoil my niece.”

“Thanks Honey,” Wildfire smiled a wide smile, “and I think your niece will want to be spoiled.”

Tempest giggled, “At least I'll only spoil her with certain things since I'll not be able to send her back home.” She snickered, making a mental note to not buy any drum kits or noise makers at future Hearths Warmings.

“You can spoil her anyway you like, Honey.” Wildfire snickered, before going all serious once more. “Do you really think D and Oils will adopt a foal?”

“Yes, I do,” Tempest replied quickly. “I’ll admit, when I first said it I didn't think they would take me seriously. Now though, thinking about it, I cannot see them doing anything else.”

Wildfire had to agree with that. “Personally I think Dusky would make an excellent mum.”

Tempest giggled some more. “Yes, she will.”

“Tell you what, Stormy,” Wildfire said, her thoughts running ahead of her now that she was thinking about her best friend and his relationship with Brush Stroke in particular, “it's so weird when D calls me 'Miss' all the time.”

“Remember what Mapper said about showing respect?” Tempest asked after she considered that statement for a moment. “That is what wearing the collar has done to Dusky. If you had your collar on right now, would you be so flippant?”

“Hmm…” Wildfire cocked her head as she thought that example over in her head. Of course Tempest was right. “I remember, and you're right, I wouldn't be flippant and disrespectful, not at all.” Because, you aren’t the same when the collar gets buckled around your neck. The yellow mare understood that, and so did her best friend.

“I didn't catch that at first,” the violet weather mare admitted, “I’m still so new to the collar thing that I didn't realize Dusky was wearing one.”

Wildfire shrugged her shoulders. “Huh…I suppose it was part of her getting ready to go out.”

“Really Wily,” Tempest rolled her blue eyes, “even I know that.” A thought then entered her head, related to the whole collar scene, its symbolism and what they represented to the wearer and the one they wore them for. “Have you put your own collar on? I would recommend that you never do that. I'm surprised Mapper hasn't said anything before now.”

“Oh…oh ok, I'll be sure not to.” Wildfire remembered something then, prompted by what Tempest had just said, memories of her shopping trip from the other Monday. “Actually Stormy, now that I think about it, when I gave my Mistress the pink collar she asked me if I'd touched it or not.”

“Yes,” Tempest commented, she may not know much about the wearing of collars, but she knew this much. “You don't own the collar, it owns you.”

“That I understand,” Wildfire put in, a broad smile on her face, “that’s why I got you and Pretty a blue and purple one, so you could both use it and you can both own me when we play.”

Again, Tempest stroked her wing along Wildfire’s side, though this time she lingered over her cutie mark and her ass. “That was a very thoughtful thing you did, my love.”

Wildfire almost glowed at that. “I do like to treat my Mistresses…”

Playfully, Tempest swatted her wingtip over Wildfire’s stylised fireball cutie mark and she giggled, “You are getting such a sweet bath when we get home.”

Wildfire giggled and bit her lip, “and that's my reward!”