At last, Bluefeather dropped below the level of the rooftops and followed the cobbled streets and the signs to her destination. Below her she could see the insistent rain start to discolour the road surface. Thankfully, as she turned left then right after a straight, she could see their destination. “That must be the place, yes?”

Cyclone saw the rather large palatial single storey villa come into view and nodded. “Ooh yes, that's the place alright,” she giggled a little as the falling rain hit and tickled her ears. “As we're early, you now we'll get the whole tour, right?”

“As long as that tour includes your foal book, I don’t mind.”

Cyclone slumped on her marefriend’s back. “Oh...oh it will, trust me he's kept eeeeeevery photo, and Aunt Ribbon will be there, she’ll make sure you see every photo…”

“Good, the more embarrassing, the better!” Bluefeather giggled as she landed on the well cared for garden path inside the white picket fence.

Very quickly, thanks to the rain, Cyclone slid off of Bluefeather’s back and walked under the wide overhanging front porch. “I cannot be embarrassed, I'm with you, silly.”

“That's the spirit. Should I ring the doorbell?” Bluefeather asked, although, spurred on by the rain suddenly getting a lot worse, Bluefeather leapt forwards under the porch and slammed her hoof insistently into the door, foregoing the bell.

After a few seconds, which felt like an eternity which was punctuated by the staccato tattoo of the pounding rain that suddenly began pounding off of the ground, coming down so hard that it bounced off of the floor, the front door opened, revealing Tropical Storm standing in the doorway. “She followed me home.” Bluefeather said before the black stallion could utter a word. “Can I keep her?”

For a long moment, which would have been silent were it not for the thunder and lightning that now split the early night sky, Tropical Storm blinked, looking back and forth between Bluefeather and Cyclone. Then, the bit dropped in his head and he smiled. “That depends, is she house trained?”

“I don't think so,” Bluefeather replied, rubbing her chin with her hoof – she was also very glad of the low overhanging porch for enabling this banter, “but I put a nappy on her, just in case.”

Tropical Storm smiled at that. It was one of the few actual smiles that he had smiled that day. He could count the genuine smiles on his hooves. He hoped his puffy bloodshot eyes didn’t stand out too much. “You may as well keep her, then.” He would have followed that up with another snarky comment, but a long line of lightning forking across the darkened sky prompted him to do otherwise. “Please come on in.”

Stood by her marefriend’s side, also extremely glad to have the porch there, Cyclone playfully rolled her blue eyes. “Oh gee, thanks for the vote of confidence dad, I love you, too.”

Tropical Storm just laughed at that, along with Bluefeather, and he led them both, daughter and marefriend, into his villa. Inside was soft quilted cream carpets, royal blue and purple wallpaper adorned with gold fleur de lys and the cutie marks of the Princesses. The black pegasus stallion led the way down the hall to the great room where Royal Ribbon and her brother Royal Pin waited, seated on faux leather couches, the luxurious room illuminated by several large gas lights.

“Still a few minutes till dinner.” Royal Ribbon, dressed in an evening gown and tiara that had come straight from Canterlot Boutique courtesy of Sassy Saddles, smiled by way of greeting, nodding politely to her niece and her companion.

“Join us in here and we can chat.” Royal Pin – dressed in a white dress suit with black tie, smiled an easy, relaxed smile, offering Bluefeather a polite little bow of welcome.

“Ooh thanks uncle Pin,” Cyclone ran over the soft fluffy Saddle Arabian carpet and hugged her aunt and uncle. As she was wearing a very simple sundress, she felt quite underdressed, but she didn’t dwell on that for very long. She was hungry. “Hey, what're we having?”

“Fettuccine al fresco with roasted vegetables.” Royal Ribbon answered before her brothers could take credit for doing more than just the prep work. Because she knew they would. “With summer flower salad and vinaigrette dressing.”

Royal Pin shared an eye roll with his brother, and Tropical Storm snorted out a barking laugh. “We did the dessert. It’s a crème brulee with cinnamon and vanilla sprinkles.”

“Aww!” Cyclone beamed, “that's why you're my favouritest aunt and uncle ever!”

As Royal Ribbon, Royal Pin and Tropical Storm all burst out in fits of giggles, some of the tension of the arduous day melting somewhat, thanks to Cyclone’s antics, Bluefeather spoke up, voicing a thought that had occurred to her. “Does my foal have any cousins?” she asked, taking a vacant seat on the couch.

“I do,” Cyclone answered before her aunt had the chance. She joined Bluefeather on the couch opposite her family. “There's Four Step and Purple Wave. They’re Aunt Ribbon's mares. Fine Line is Uncle Pin's stallion.”

Bluefeather welcomed her lover next to her and she leant in to deliver a soft loving kiss to her marefriend’s cheek and her ear. “Have they played with their little cousin?”

“Well,” Cyclone said hesitantly, returning the kiss she was given with one of her own. There was a hesitance in her voice that everypony seated in the great room picked up on immediately. “Purple Wave and Fine Line have, but Four Step refuses to acknowledge that side of me.”

Bluefeather knew instinctively what that hesitance meant. “I love that side of you. What do you think of that side of her, Tropical Storm? I'm putting that one photo spread in my office at the weather factory.”

“I'm not going to change her,” Tropical Storm replied, “and there hasn't been any harm done by it for some time.”

“Thanks, dad,” Cyclone smiled. A moment later however and her smiled disappeared, to be replaced by a sad sigh. “Four Step basically thinks I should've been sent down for what happened four years ago.”

Bluefeather was about to answer when she saw Royal Ribbon nudge her brother’s shoulder and Royal Pin, with a nod, left the great room for the kitchen. Tropical Storm left with him. “The truth is, Cy, I would think the same thing at first glance. You were very foalish that day.”

As the sounds – and smells – of food being prepared and plated up came wafting to them from the kitchen, Cyclone took a few minutes to reflect on that. She should have been sentenced. She always thought her banishment from the nation’s capital as too lenient. Perhaps that was why she refused to see Zecora for a cure to her incontinence. “You'll get no argument from me, you know that, Blue.”

“Dinner is served, good fillies.” Royal Pin announced roughly ten minutes later, breaking a silence that was only accentuated by the roiling tempest outside. Even through the closed drapes they could see the flashes of lightning and hear the rain that lashed at the windows.

Royal Ribbon, as hungry as her niece, needed no further encouragement. She stood from her couch and, once Cyclone and Bluefeather were stood, she led the way to the finely appointed dining room. “We live and learn Cyclone. Anypony here says they've never done anything stupid, I'll call them a liar.”

Cyclone smiled, her spirits lifted just a little. Maybe her aunt wasn’t as bad as she remembered. Then again, it had been a year or two since she had seen her. Ponies changed. “Thanks, aunt Ribbon.”

“Well, I guess I'm still learning…” Bluefeather giggled, though this giggle was there to cover her amazement at the sheer luxury of the large dining room she found herself in. Two tone cranberry red and cream wallpaper was separated in the centre by a black divider that bore the same fleur de lys pattern as the décor in the hall. Three huge gas lit chandeliers lit up a polished oak dining table and matching seating pads.

‘Sweet Luna’s sainted cutie marks…’ Bluefeather thought, ‘There are two hoof restaurants in Manehatten that aren’t as lush as this!’ Carefully, she walked over the immaculate carpet and took a vacant seating pad next to Cyclone as Royal Pin levitated in all the food from the kitchen. Tropical Storm sat at the head of the table, while Royal Ribbon sat opposite her niece and used her magic to pour one hundred and fifty year old Canterlot wine into crystal glasses.

“What do you do in Manehatten, Bluefeather?” Royal Pin asked politely once he had set out all the food onto the dining table and took his seat next to his sister.

‘Nothing succeeds like excess, alright…it’s like the palace!’ Bluefeather thought, 'But, then again, I was in the Prince’s own house, and it was nothing like this!’ And it was true, wasn’t it? Dusky’s house, while obviously well-to-do, and been nothing compared to the lavishness on display here. ‘Is this typical of Canterlot housing?’ Suddenly aware that she hadn’t answered, and that five sets of eyes were looking at her, Bluefeather blushed and replied, “I manage the weather factory in Cloudhatten.”

“She's a very important pony!” Cyclone spoke up as her dad gave a motion with his hooves that they should start eating. “I was gonna go work for her.”

Royal Ribbon raised her eyebrow, her loaded fork paused millimetres from her mouth. “Was? Why, surely you aren't going to move in and not work, Cyclone?”

Thankfully, as the storm continued outside, Tropical Storm came to his daughter’s rescue. “She has agreed to work for me, Ribbon.” He said, taking a rather large mouthful of his fettuccini and roasted vegetables.

Bluefeather hadn’t tried her food yet, she was sampling some of the best wine she had ever tasted. “Which means I'll have more photos for my office decorations.” She added with a wink at Cyclone and her dad.

“How long have you been trying to get her, Storm?” Royal Pin asked his brother once he had swallowed his mouthful of salad.

“One doesn't give up.”

“I stopped counting when the attempts went past twenty,” Cyclone snickered at her dad’s comment, while Royal Ribbon simply rolled her eyes, deciding it was best to keep her tongue. “I gave in because I want Blue to have the best decorated office ever!”

“So,” Royal Pin returned his attention to his niece’s marefriend, “you're in charge of Manehatten weather?”

Bluefeather considered that for a moment as she swirled the wine around in her mouth. “In truth, I'm in charge of seeing the weather that the Mayor and City Council want, happens.” She hoped that made as much sense coming out as it did to her in her head.

“A big responsibility,” Tropical Storm complimented her, “How long have you been in charge?”

“I'm on my seventh year or two years into my second tour.”

Cyclone leant in and gave Bluefeather a really big hug. “That's my awesome mare!”

“Cyclone, dear,” Royal Ribbon decided to be as delicate as she could, “wouldn't you rather work with Bluefeather?” ‘Instead of being a model and getting rutted for money,’ she thought, finishing her sentence in her head. It wasn’t seemly for such things to be said out loud at the dinner table.

“The job is a low level position,” Bluefeather explained, looking Royal Ribbon dead in the eyes, though she understood where the middle aged unicorn mare was coming from. “And, it is not a requirement for me. I just wanted to let her have an option when she moved out east.”

Royal Ribbon sniffed and contented herself with attacking her salad like it had wronged her. “Well, I suppose, as long as you are both happy…” she smuttered.

“Aunt Ribbon,” Cyclone let out a most unbecoming snort of breath, “Blue isn’t my keeper!”

“Oh, is that true my little filly?” Bluefeather asked, a giggle in her voice, “More like I'm not your owner, I think.”

“I wouldn't complain,” Cyclone giggled as she grew quickly tired of arguing with her aunt and instead took a mouthful of her fettuccini and salad.

“This is a lovely salad!” Bluefeather exclaimed, picking up on the underlying tension in the room, she was determined to do something about it. “And the pasta smells delicious!”

Cyclone, not the most emotionally attentive of mares, knew she had gone a wee bit too far. There was no need to fight, especially not today. “Um, it really is nice, aunt Ribbon.”

Now, it was a well-known fact, known well to those who knew it, that Royal Ribbon had an ego. It was also a fact that Royal Ribbon had, in her younger days, trained under the Princess’s own personal chef when she had left Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. Although she hadn’t owned a restaurant in a good few years, it still stroked her ego when her cooking was praised. “Well, thank you both, very much.”

“Sadly, I'm not the best cook.” Bluefeather continued, “I tend towards simple dishes.”

Royal Ribbon snickered playfully, now she was disarmed, her mane – and her guard - was coming down.”Then, you have something in common with Storm and Cyclone,” she said, giving both black pegasi a very pointed look.

“I can work a microwave,” Cyclone shrugged unapologetically, “and there's always the hayburger place.”

“Oh my,” Bluefeather almost purred like a kitten when she had swallowed another mouthful, “well I'm a step above that, but this meal is still beyond my skills.”

Cyclone nudged her dad’s elbow, “We keep her around because she feeds us, right dad?”

“No,” Tropical Storm gently corrected his daughter, “she feeds us because she loves her little brother.” He delivered this line so innocently and unexpectedly that Royal Pin snorted into his crystal wine glass, sending its contents over the table.

As her brother hastily used his own magic to clear away the spilled wine and refill everypony’s glass, Royal Ribbon gave Tropical Storm a withering stare so potent it could’ve stripped the bark from a Timberwolf at a thousand paces. This look continued until all three siblings burst out into gales of laughter. “Hmph, somepony has to feed you something other than burgers, Storm,” Royal Ribbon snarked.

“Aww,” Cyclone giggled, clapping her hooves together, “you love him really!”

Bluefeather smiled, “Thank you, all of you.”

That caught Royal Ribbon’s attention. “Oh, for what?”

“For being family in front of me.”

Shovelling in a large bite of salad, Cyclone giggled, “We don't do airs and graces, really.”

Royal Ribbon smiled sweetly at Bluefeather. “Well, if you can't be yourself, it's a pretty poor show.”

Bluefeather couldn’t help but look around at the most luxurious dining room she had ever been in outside of a multi hoof restaurant and it struck her, then, that this was the norm for the Noble District. “I've been to too many functions where the pony I'm talking to isn't the pony I know,” Bluefeather explained, and it was true here. While there was excess on display, there was nothing over the top, nothing disingenuous or fake. She liked that.

“I understand,” Royal Ribbon seemed to read Bluefeather’s mind. She waved her hoof dismissively in the air as she ate, her fork held in her magic. “Take the Grand Galloping Gala for instance, as an example.” Now there, there were the epitome of fake shallow nobleponies pretending to be something they were not.

“Ohh, you've been?” Bluefeather asked, wine on her tongue at the mention of the Gala, only the biggest most well-known social event in Equestria. “That had to be fascinating. My last trip to Canterlot was three years ago when the Everfree weather pattern went crazy again.”

“I haven't been,” Cyclone huffed, and she never would go either, but it wasn’t like she even wanted to go, right? Right? “Um, aunt Ribbon has, been a few times.”

“I run a couple of charities, Bluefeather,” Royal Ribbon explained in answer to the mid grey pegasus’s questioning look. “Princess Celestia allows tickets to one of them.”

Bluefeather was liking these ponies more and more by the moment, it seemed. While they seemed lavish at first, they really were not. “I like the idea of ponies helping ponies. I participate in some charities in Manehatten, but I don't run any. That is a full time effort.”

Royal Ribbon smiled, “it is no effort.” She said, self-deprecatingly, to say her work was an effort was slightly in error. She considered it her duty, as she was in a privileged position to help. So, she helped. “I run the Canterlot Invasion Veterans Association.”

Bluefeather shuddered, “We were fortunate that the defenders did so well and the threat the Changelings posed never made it outside this city.”

“Indeed so.” Royal Ribbon raised her full glass in a silent toast, which the others copied, “those who fought are the ones who made the effort, both in the military and the civilians.”

“A very worthy cause.” Bluefeather commented sombrely, taking a little sip of her wine.

“Sad though after this much time the charity is still needed.”

Cyclone nodded at her dad’s comment, though her attention was somewhat diverted by the crème brulee on the dining table next to her three quarters empty plate. Tentatively she dug in, pleased she wasn’t told to do otherwise. “You're right, dad.” She said thickly.

“True,” Royal Ribbon said with a sad little smile, “I'm just happy so many ponies still donate to it, though more would, I'm sure, were I more selective.”

“I don't think time really matters after such a traumatic event.” Bluefeather added after she had followed Cyclone’s example and attacked her dessert, “Plus, I'd rather a charity saw to the needs of those affected then using taxes to do so. There is more meaning in giving than taking.”

“Hmm,” Tropical Storm mused over his third glass of wine, “and I was thinking the government should be doing more. I concede your point.”

“I'm glad you agree, Bluefeather.” Royal Ribbon then chose her words extremely carefully, for she wasn’t sure where Cyclone’s marefriend’s politics or loyalties lay, just yet. “I also run its sister charity, the Changeling Integration Trust, which as you can imagine, is less well received.”

Cyclone patted her aunt’s foreleg supportively. “It's still important work though, aunty.”

Bluefeather tapped her chin in thought, racking her brain. “No, I don't think I've heard of that one.”

“Not all Changelings are evil.”

“Quite right, Storm.” Royal Ribbon nodded to her younger brother over the dining table. “And Bluefeather, I'm not surprised you haven't heard of that one,” she paused and sighed, “it's forever being opposed.” As she was talking about her charity, the light of the chandelier overhead gave her a slightly manic look on her face. “Captain Starbright, formerly of the medical corps, is always lobbying the Princesses to shut it down and have its supporters banished or imprisoned. Or both.”

Bluefeather ignored the ‘glint’ in her host’s eye. She was still processing what she had heard. “So, there are Changelings still in Equestria?”

“Oh yes, I liase regularly with a representative for them from each major city, from Vanhoover to Trottingham, from Las Pegasus to Baltimare,” she sighed, setting aside her own dessert. “If that Starbright had his way there would be a mandatory public register and they'd be marked with enchanted brands.”

“What? They can't do that, surely?” Cyclone asked, “um, can they?”

Still, Bluefeather was struggling with the revelation. “So there are changelings in Manehatten?”

Her mind full of a terrible possible future where families turned on families and Changelings were marked and branded and either killed or rounded up into slave camps, Royal Ribbon shuddered. “There are, yes. And Cy, to answer your question, dear, I fear he might get his way eventually, seeing as his adopted son is dating your friend, Prince Dusk.”

“Wow,” Bluefeather puffed out her cheeks and exhaled noisily, letting it all sink in. “I will say it is a well-kept secret. So, that means that Changelings are blending in well. Cy, I don't think Brush Stroke talked about his family…” she looked to Royal Ribbon, “We were visiting him and Dusky earlier today.”

“No he didn't, did he?”

“They are blended, integrated, whatever term you prefer, contributing members of our society.” Royal Ribbon sniffed, while Royal Pin and Tropical Storm busied themselves with eating their desserts. They knew better than to interrupt their sister when she was on her soap box. “That they remain hidden is their choice, out of fear of undeserved retribution, mostly.”

Bluefeather giggled, mostly at how conspicuously the two stallions were keeping their heads down. “I love how politics can creep into any discussion. So, Dusk and I have a mutual friend in Cy, but more important in Caffienated. A well respected zebra in Manehatten.”

That certainly did pique the unicorn mare’s interest. “You know Caffeinated as well?”

Cyclone, wanting to be part of the conversation, spoke up, “I met him Thursday.”

The unicorn smiled, all thought of dessert gone as she favoured her wine. “He deserves to be respected. He's a very sweet zebra.”

“How'd you know him, aunt Ribbon?”

Royal Ribbon shook her head. “Oh, I don't know him personally, but I know his father and mother in law quite well.”

“You are a mare in the know!” Bluefeather smiled and silently requested that Royal Pin refill her wine glass, which he did for everypony. He then surreptitiously stole his sister’s untouched crème brulee, along with a spoon for himself and his brother to share it. “My goodness you know Griffons, too?”

“I'm afraid I don't know many Griffons.” The unicorn replied, making a mental note to put salt in her brother’s coffee for thinking they could steal her dessert unnoticed. “Mr. Baron and Ms. Snowfall are big contributors to my charities.”

“They are a sweet couple.” Bluefeather commented, passing her thoughts regarding Baron and Snowfall. “Prince Dusk invited us to join him in a play date in Fillydelphia. One of Cy's friends, Brightstar, lives there and he has married a griffon with kittens...What was her name, Cy?”

“Moonbeak, babes.”

“Moonbeak...Moonbeak...hmm, no, it doesn't ring a bell.” Royal Ribbon mused out loud, feeling a little ‘happy’ after draining her third wine. She reached for more. With her hoof, not her magic. “I'll have to ask ambassador Gilda next time we meet at the palace.”

“To the point,” Bluefeather pressed on, “would you like some influence used on Prince Dusk, and possibly Brush Stroke too, to impress the idea of Changelings blending into our society...I thought they could only impersonate ponies...”

Almost absent mindedly, Royal Ribbon nodded, her guest was right, in that regard. “Oh, I'd love for them to have some positive influence, really I would!”

“Do the ponies they are impersonating know they are being impersonated?” Bluefeather asked, the three glasses of wine assisting in lowering her inhibitions enough to be able to ask.

“Those that are being impersonated, yes. There are sympathetic ponies all over the land. Sometimes however the Changeling can create a whole unique persona to live under.”

“Not to put a damper on this,” Bluefeather held up her hoof, “but, even with my clearance, is this something you should be talking about?”

“You’re quite right to ask, of course,” Royal Ribbon replied with a wry grin, “although I have been careful to not go into sensitive details, I do hope you understand why?”

Cyclone giggled playfully behind her hoof, thanks to her consumption of the really good wine. “Teehee, it sounded like you were recruiting us, aunty Ribbon!”

Bluefeather joined her young lover in her giggles, “I can see it now, Equestrian Sneakret Service. So special it’s a sneaky secret. I do understand though, yes, and I was worried you may go too far.”

“Ah, pfft,” the unicorn mare waved her hoof in the air, “More bodies to the cause never hurts,” she giggled like a filly a fifth of her age, “but I apologise for the hard sell act.”

“It is fascinating though!” Bluefeather exclaimed, “I never knew, nor do I think it is something I'm going to spread. Does Baron and Snowfall know all about it, them, everything?”

“Oh yes,” Royal Ribbon nodded enthusiastically. So enthusiastically that some strands of her nicely coiffured mane came loose and hung over her eyes. “Yes, they do. They are very sympathetic to the Changeling plight. They, like me, see both sides of the coin.”

“This is rather exciting!” Bluefeather felt really quite giddy, like she was in a LeCarre spy novel. “Mild mannered weather pony during the day, and inter-species coordinator at night!” She giggled as she pulled a particularly heroic pose on her seating pad at the dining table. “I can't promise anything, but I think your cause is worthwhile, too.”

Royal Ribbon giggled, she rather liked this newcomer. She hoped that she would continue to be a good, positive influence on her niece. “Why, thank you Bluefeather, we appreciate your support, however you give it.”

Cyclone couldn’t help but feel rather left out of all this. “Hey! I support you too, y’know!”

Noticing that said niece was starting to slur, just ever so slightly, and that her two brothers were starting to swap dirty limericks – Tropical Storm opening with the ‘Mare That Came From Nantucket’, Royal Ribbon tweaked the black pegasus stallion’s ear with her magic. Thankfully, he got the message. “Cy,” he said loudly, getting her attention, “could you come to my office, please?”

“Oh, sure thing, dad!”

Bluefeather tapped her lover’s shoulder with her hoof. “You need me, love?”

“Nah sexy, I'm good,” Cyclone shook her head, feeling happy, warm and buzzed. “You talk to aunt Ribbon, I can see you're her new bessie friend.”

As Cyclone and Tropical Storm both left the dining room together, side by side, Royal Ribbon led her brother and Bluefeather back through to the great room for after dinner coffees and conversation. “No hard sell.” The unicorn smiled sweetly as she ushered her brother to sit. “I promise just coffee.” ‘And you’ll like yours, Pin, I’m sure…’ she grinned an evil grin.

“You don't have to do this for me, Cy.” Tropical Storm said the moment the door had closed on his office, which was a large rectangular room with wood panelling and several filing cabinets. There was also a finely carved desk upon which rested something that could best be described as an organised mess.

“I'm not dad, doing it for you, I mean.” Cyclone clarified as she sat down on the seating pad opposite her dad. “I'm doing it for me. It's a cool job, I enjoyed the last shoot I did.” Even if it was four…something years ago.

Nodding, apparently satisfied at that, Tropical Storm reached into the second drawer down on the left side of his desk and, without looking, he pulled out a short stack of papers. “This is the standard Playcolt contract. Read it. It will protect both of us. This contract is for photos only, but they do become property of the Playcolt division. There is a fair use clause for yourself, so you can hang a picture in Blues office.”

Reaching into another drawer, with practised ease he pulled out some more papers. “This is a video contract. Something else to read and think about. Again, anything produced will belong to Playcolt.”

“Okay, cool.” Cyclone looked at the stack of neat paperwork and couldn’t help but feel sorry for the tree that produced it. She was glad she had Bluefeather to hoof to look over these, as she was next to useless with contracts. “I'm interested in doing video stuff, and you already know Blue wants to decorate her office.”

“Read the contracts.” Tropical Storm tapped the papers with his hoof for emphasis. “Have a lawyer check them out. You can decorate Blue's office. She can't take the works and decorate her own office with them.”

“I will dad,” Cyclone took up the contracts and dumped them in her saddle bag. Bluefeather would love them, she was sure. Maybe. “So, what kind of thing did you have in mind for me? I mean you've been after me for ages, you must have some things lined up.”

“Other than the chase?” He answered her, then he flinched instinctively when they heard the anguished sound of Royal Pin screeching as he drank his salted coffee. “Your return to the magazine is high on the list. I’m planning a sort of ‘what happened to’, type spread, as well as a few pictures.”

“That’s cool, Blue expressed an interest in an updated version of my old spread.” Cyclone thought out loud, trying not to laugh as she wondered what her uncle had done to warrant a screech like that, that could be heard through interior walls. “Although, I can do other adult stuff for you too.”

“Getting to that. I'm still doing photography, but a staff photographer will be assigned to you.” Tropical Storm explained, trying to remain business-like and not laugh at his brother’s misfortune. He definitely did not laugh. Much.

“Alrighty dad,” Cyclone smiled as she channelled her friend, “That all sounds good so far.”

“Pay isn't bad either, even if that isn't a motivator.”

“Okay, well, kinda daft question time, do you expect me to be rutted?”

Tropical Storm had been expecting that question, at least. “If that is what you want, and only if that is what you want.” He couldn’t over state or emphasise that point enough. “Should you be required to do something you don't want to do there is an out in the contract. If you use the out, then you are very much out. That said, my bosses aren't idiots. You will be asked first.”

Cyclone nodded thoughtfully. That did sound great, and all, but she knew what she wanted to do. If she was doing this, then she was doing it properly. No half measures. “Well, I figure those are the jobs that pay the best, right? Plus, I also figure there's an added security working with you on this, I mean you aren't gonna pair me up with somepony who doesn't know a crop from a paddle or their plot from their elbow, right?”

“I'll do what I can,” now, Tropical Storm became absolutely, deadly serious. “Cyclone. You do need to come to me if there is anything bothering you. Since you're living in Manehatten, then that is where your staff photographer will be living too.”

“Don't worry dad, you'll be the first pony I come to, I promise.” Cyclone smiled, getting up from her seating pad, she trotted around the carved desk and gave her father a very warm, very tight hug.

“Welcome home, Cyclone.”

“I missed you, dad…daddy…”

Tropical Storm let out a long, low sigh, all his emotions seemingly evaporating out of his body. “I-I wish this isn't what brought us back together.” His voice was so quiet, almost inaudible. “I have so much to...to be forgiven for.”

Cyclone pulled away from the hug and laid her hoof on her dad’s foreleg. “The past is done dad, we can't alter that. We can either regret stuff forever and wallow, or we can make some cool new memories, together, as a family.”

‘When did my filly get so smart?’ Tropical Storm thought with a wry inward smile. ‘She really is the best of me.’ “If those are the choices, then I'm for some cool new memories. How long have you known Bluefeather?”

“Oh, since Friday, so...four days.”

“I worry for you. That isn't very long and you're moving all the way out there to Manehatten…”

Cyclone silenced her father with a forehoof pressed ever so softly to his lips. “C'mon dad, you've met her, she's cool, and I was never much of a weather pony in Cloudsdale anyway. But,” she hugged the black stallion and affectionately nuzzled his cheek, “Thanks for worrying about me.”

Tropical Storm chuckled to himself as he returned the nuzzle to his daughter’s cheek and neck. “Well if you're going to live with the weather manager and not be a weather pony, I suppose that does speak for itself.” He went quiet then for a few moments, content to just nuzzle his filly as if he was making up for lost years. “Are you ah, satisfied with where you're at in life, Cy?”

Cyclone giggled at that, though she didn’t pull away from the hug or the nuzzle she was getting. Almost like she was making up for lost time. Too much lost time. “Wow...that's deep. Um...yeah, all things considered, yeah, I’m happy. I've got an awesome mare, she shares my kinks, she likes roleplaying, and now I get to work with you, making decent money at a job I reckon I'll be good at.”

“Don't rush into this.” He reiterated once more, “I want you to look over the contracts. Talk to Blue about it, and get a lawyer you trust.”

“You got it, dad.”

Seeing as business was, for the moment anyway, concluded, Tropical Storm got up and led Cyclone out of his office. “Come, let’s make sure Pin and Ribbon haven't taken away your mare while we’ve been talking.”

“Good idea!” Cyclone snickered and she eagerly followed her dad out. Back in the great room, Bluefeather, Royal Ribbon and Royal Pin were sat sharing one of the two three seater couches. All three ponies had coffees, though this time there was actually sugar in the unicorn stallion’s drink. As they were chatting about what level of government should be managing weather patterns, Cyclone wrinkled her nose. “Aunt Ribbon definitely hasn't stolen her away.”

“Hello love,” Bluefeather greeted her young marefriend, “Did you two have a nice chat?”

“We did, yeah, I think we gave each other something to think about, right dad?”

“True Cy, and we'll follow up on it later when, and only when, you're ready.”

“You got it!” Again, Cyclone hugged her dad tightly with legs and with wings. “While you lot were talking about boring weather stuff and government, and falling asleep?”

Bluefeather looked at Royal Ribbon and both mare’s shared a synchronised eye roll, both of which were directed straight at Cyclone like a combined attack. “I breathe politics at work. Just my opinion of more autonomy isn't the same view that Ribbon shares.”

Royal Ribbon smiled a very wide smile indeed. It was a rare thing to be challenged by such measured discourse. She looked forward to the next time. “It was a pleasure chatting and sharing viewpoints, Bluefeather.” She looked at her niece with a playful smile on her face. “Not everypony talks about Power Ponies, young one.”

Bluefeather laughed, mostly at the pout on Cyclone’s face. “That is because I live in Manehatten and not Maretropolis.” She needled, causing Royal Pin to snort in the middle of sipping his coffee.

“Indeed,” Royal Ribbon yawned, for the hour was getting late, “for one who doesn't fly, her head is ever in the clouds.”

“Well,” Cyclone pouted, missing the yawn from her aunt entirely. “Comics are awesome! Blue, tell the mean pony they're awesome!” she gave her marefriend the biggest most adorable puppy eyes she could manage.

“Ribbon dear,” Bluefeather smiled placatingly at her young lover, patting her head with her hoof. She did not miss the yawn, even if Cyclone had. “They are but another way of telling a story to reach an audience that might otherwise be left out. I will say my romance novels do have less pictures.” At that, Tropical Storm and Royal Pin shared a look that screamed ‘mares’ “Tropical, would you like us to arrive early tomorrow and help with anything?”

Tropical Storm shook his head, though he was most grateful of the offer. “Last Word has it well in hoof, and I'm not expecting a lot of ponies to be there. The funeral starts at eleven a.m., still you're welcome to come early.”

“You know we'll be there, dad.”

“I know Cy, I know.”

Now, Cyclone let out a little yawn, which she utterly failed to hide behind her hoof. “Aaaaah…I'm glad the hotel's pretty close,” she muttered, her feathers fluttering as she yawned.

Bluefeather decided that it was time to leave. Thankfully, she hadn’t heard the tattoo of the rain outside for some time. “Thank you for the hospitality and for the fine meal, but I need to get this tired little filly off to bed.”

“No problem,” Tropical Storm smiled, politely walking his two guests to the door. “I'll see you tomorrow at the funeral home. It is a short journey from there to the cemetery.”

Cyclone tackle hugged her father in the hallway. “Have a good night, dad.” She smiled when the black stallion returned her hug, though she guessed, correctly, that the rest of her dad’s night might involve whiskey and more than one photograph album.

“See you both on the morrow.” Royal Pin made sure to get his hugs and nuzzles in with his niece and her marefriend as they left. Opening the door, with Cyclone once more on her back, she was extremely grateful that the thunderstorm had abated. Not that she would’ve minded too much, but navigating a violent storm with a passenger was risky business.

~ ~ ~

A short walk later, through the darkened gas lit cobbled streets of Canterlot, Bluefeather arrived with her yawning passenger at the doors of the Manefair Hotel. On the way they passed a couple of young ponies huddled in a sodden box in an alley, to whom Bluefeather tossed a heavy bag of bits so that they could buy a bed for a few nights. On the first floor, in their room, Bluefeather turned to her lover. “Is my filly ready for bed or would she like a night cap?”

“Ooh...” Cyclone shivered, thinking of the two unfortunate teenagers as she shrugged off her heavy saddlebag, which fell with a thud to the carpeted floor, “think a night cap is in order, sexy.”

“What would you like?” Bluefeather asked as she picked up the phone to dial room service. She had to suppress a shudder, the thought of homeless ponies in the nation’s capital, on a night like this, was unthinkable. Still, they had done their bit, so that made her feel better. “Red wine?”

“Oh yes,” Cyclone answered a little too quickly, “I'd love some.”

When Bluefeather called the room service, she made an order for some cheesy hay fries as well as well as beer for herself and a red wine for Cyclone. “Your aunt and uncle are some nice ponies,” she said once she placed the phone back on its receiver, “but your aunt is a wilful one,” she giggled appreciatively, “Quite the challenge.”

Exhausted, Cyclone slumped on her back on a nearby couch in the hotel room. “Aaaaah...yeah, that's aunt Ribbon, alright.” She giggled playfully, “I guess doing what she does with the charities she has to be wilful.”

“Still, Changelings.” Bluefeather tapped her hooves together. “Seems a bit dicey to me. Pin on the other hoof is just low key cool.”

“I get that.” Cyclone replied, turning her head to look at her marefriend but not getting up from the couch, “but like dad said, not all of them are evil. Personally, I think there was a lot of right and wrong on both sides at the time. I also know enough to keep that opinion to myself in Canterlot.”

Minutes later, Bluefeather answered the door to the room service and she allowed the staff to bring in the snacks and the drinks. Once they had arranged everything on a low table and left them in peace, with a generous tip, she sat down on her haunches. “I think I'll just forget that I even know about this.”

“Y'know?” Cyclone agreed, “That’s probably for the best. Otherwise, when we get back to Cloudhatten you're gonna be looking for Changelings and you'll be seeing them everywhere.”

“If I'm going to deal with changelings, I'd rather deal with ones like you,” Bluefeather smiled, scooping up a hoof full of cheesy fries and helping herself. “Mare one moment, filly the next.”

“Aww, you say the sweetest things!” Cyclone took a mouthful of fries and hurried to swallow them, letting out a little yawn. “So, I got the contracts from dad while you kept my aunt busy with talks of weather patterns and other such exciting topics.”

Bluefeather snickered around her beer bottle. “We did notice the lack of loud voices. So, did you sign them?”

“No,” Cyclone responded with a smile, “he wouldn't let me sign them there and then. My dad insisted that I take them, talk them over with you and get a lawyer we trust to look at them.”

“Well, that ups my respect for your dad a fair bit.” Bluefeather commented, almost thinking out loud as she nibbled on a helping of cheesy fries. “Ribbon spent most of my time talking about her projects and probing to see how far up I was in the weather hierarchy.”

Cyclone helped herself to a few more mouthfuls of cheesy fries, mulling things over in her head as she ate. “Dad said I could take all the time I needed. He wants us both to be cool with it.”

“You already know I'm cool with your decision. Especially if I can watch when I'm available.”

“I do,” Cyclone leant over the low table and gave her older lover a cheesy fry flavoured kiss. “I'll just get a lawyer to give them a look and we're golden.” A thought occurred to her then, as they were talking about fathers. She decided that she was curious about hers. “So, what about your dad?”

“Mine?” Bluefeather asked with a giggle in her voice, “He lives in a retirement community in Cloudelphia.”

“What's he like?”

“Hmmm, well he is a curmudgeon, but I mean that in the nicest way.” Bluefeather grinned and, channelling her father, she deepened her voice until it was almost unrecognisable. “You pesky foals get off my cloud!”

“Aah...one of those types!” Cyclone joined in with her lover’s giggles, “Will you take me to meet him?”

“Of course I will. He is pretty understanding of my desire to 'mother' ponies. Wish I could introduce you to mom.”

“Tell me about her.”

Bluefeather was extremely glad she had Cyclone’s hoof squeezing her foreleg at that moment, even if it was covered in cheesy residue. “She is the one that got me to do day care. In her career, she was a midmare.”

“Is that why you're so fond of being the adult?”

“Oh yes,” Bluefeather nodded enthusiastically as she took a sip of her beer. “But that came later. I worked day care from my senior year through college. It was after that, I joined the weather service that I found an Adult Baby Diaper Lover group, and it just clicked.” She then kissed Cyclone’s lips, “You're my eighth adult foal.”

Cyclone smiled, “It's cool when things just click, right? You get that feeling, that it’s just, I dunno, right I guess.” She then kissed Bluefeather’s lips. “You ever keep in contact with any of the others that you’ve cared for?”

“Actually, no. All of them were clean breaks as they moved on. A few got tired of the play, others found another to care for them. Sort of like working in a day care. You don't have them forever.”

“Hmm...I get that, sexy. Were you in an adult relationship like us with any of them or was it purely nanna and foal?”

“My last one was mixed, as were three others.” Bluefeather thought about that, the mid grey mare casting her mind back over her past relationships, both with adults and foals. “Those were the only four that lived with me. I was mom to two and auntie for the other two. The rest were in home care.”

“Hmm...” Cyclone wondered something then, as she took a long drink of her wine. “So, mom, aunt, nanna...do you have a preference, or is it all a bit samey?”

Bluefeather thought that was actually a very intelligent question. “I care, of course I care, but I let the foal set the limits. Sometimes it has a bonus. As mom I walked my stallion down the aisle. He got married just over a year ago.”

“Aaaw!” the little filly that lived inside Cyclone let out an enormous squee. “That is adorable!” she did pause the take another sip of her wine. “I guess deep down I wanted a mom who was 'there', y’know? When I first started, but there was no way in the world Air Raid would let me call her mommy, so it was nanna.”

“One of my day care foals called me nanna because he wanted a grandmare figure.” Bluefeather commented with a bright little giggle.

Cyclone smiled, though there was a hint of sadness to it. “Ultimately, no matter how much I tried to replace her, Air Raid wasn't Monsoon and neither are you, and anyway that's unfair, so I prefer you as my nanna.”

Now, Bluefeather leant in and she kissed her young lover long and hard on the mouth. “And I'm very much fine with that. Each foal is unique and I love each for that. Limits are for the comfort of the foal. I can't be what I'm not, but I can be what they need. I can be what you need if you let me.”

Taking the beer flavoured kiss, Cyclone returned it with one of her own and she thoughtfully sipped her wine. “Blue, I'm yours and I want to be yours for a very long time to come.”

“I'd like that,” Bluefeather agreed as she scooped up a heavily cheese coated fry and stuffed it in her mouth. “As I say, the foal sets the limits. My last was five years till he grew up and got married. The shortest one was a single home visit. She didn't want a mother, but a father so I let one of my friends know.”

“Well, like I said to dad,” Cyclone countered, “I know it hasn't been long, but I trust you, Blue and I like how we play.”

“I like all the ways that we play.” Bluefeather added, “You're right it hasn't been long, and I'm in it for the long haul. Of the others I only ended one.”

“I'm here for keeps too. I just can't do quick affairs.” As she drained her wine glass to just a quarter full, she reflected that was due in no small part to her mother’s past actions. “Why'd you end it?”

“I think you know,” Bluefeather answered coolly, “After all you almost fell into that very same trap.”

“Aaah.” Cyclone blushed a blush so intense that it showed even against her black fur. “Ah, ahem...yes.” she had an inkling of the incident in question that Bluefeather was referring to. “You mean when I was a dumbass back on the train on the way here?” she asked, trying and failing to hide her biggest yawn yet.

“Pardon?” Bluefeather shook her head, she recalled as well as her lover did the incident way back on Baltimare train station when she had lost her precious Radiance plush in the gift shop where they had purchased the Railway Series plushies. “No, the filly I was caring for thought she could have sexual relations with real fillies.”

“Ooh,” Needless to say, Cyclone felt extremely silly. “Ah the other thing.” She rubbed her forelegs together nervously, finding the couch suddenly very interesting indeed. “Yeah whichever way you slice it, that's just wrong.”

“What you did on the train was, disappointing,” Bluefeather chose her words carefully, gently she turned Cyclone’s face back to look at her. “But I wasn't going to toss you for that. You'd have to do it repeatedly for me to get really disappointed.”

“I've learnt, sweetie.”

“Nice to have a foal that is teachable.” Bluefeather giggled as she drained her beer bottle and placed it on the low table. “My youngest charge was six months and he was that way for two years. Then one day he just told me he was a grown stallion and thanked me for caring for him. Bitter sweet to see them grow up and leave home.”

“I bet it is, Dad kinda didn't want me to leave home…”

Bluefeather squeezed Cyclone’s foreleg. “You gave him purpose. Maybe a way to massage away any guilt he might have had. Two of my charges wanted somepony that cared about them, something they didn't get from home.”

Cyclone shrugged, though she didn’t object to the hoof squeezing her leg. It was nice. “Substitutions and distractions, all variations on smoke and mirrors. Better than avoidance at any rate.” She raised her glass and drained what was left in one swallow. “Ugh...I'm so not looking forward to tomorrow, Blue.”

“Closure is important. I'll be there with you.”

“Thanks babes. I have a feeling I'll need you.”

“It's what all good nanas do.” Bluefeather giggled, pulling her young marefriend into a hug. She decided to try and lighten the mood. “At least I don't have to squeeze you into an office. You can chill in mine during your off time when you aren’t filming.”

Cyclone kissed Bluefeather’s neck and giggled playfully. “I'm not an office-y pony, but I'd love to crash in yours when I'm not working. Oh hey, dad did say I'll be working with a photographer based out where we live.”

“Makes sense. Unless you want to rack up some frequent rail miles.”

“Well, I'm sure there'll be DVD and photo ops in Ponyville or elsewhere, but for the most part I'll be working in Manehatten.” She smiled, “does mean we get to be mates with the photographer though.”

Unfamiliar with the term that Cyclone had just used, probably due to the amount of beer and wine she had consumed that day, Bluefeather tilted her head, “Mates?”

“Yeah, y'know, mates. As in friends, pals, chums, mates.”

“Ahh, I see,” Bluefeather giggled unabashedly, “I took the other meaning of the word mate. I can be friendly.”

“I know you can, sexy…” whatever Cyclone was going to say then was cut off by an extremely long and particularly loud yawn that split her face and her blue eyes drooped to half-mast. She was beat, good and proper.

Bluefeather took that as her cue. “I think some filly needs a tucking in, but first…” she was prompted by the rather unholy smell that very suddenly began to emanate from her marefriend’s nappy under her sundress. Slipping the dress off of her, the older pegasus did a quick check just to confirm her suspicions.

Bluefeather sniffed and smiled, rolling a very compliant Cyclone onto her back on the hotel’s couch. “Time for a nappy change, Ms. Stinky Butt!” when she saw a pair of watery blue eyes looking back at her, she nuzzled Cyclone’s belly, making her laugh. “Who's the stinky ickle filly?”

“Teehee, hehehe!” Cyclone couldn’t help but giggle like a filly she lifted her hind legs up. “Hahahoo! I...I'm a st-stinky filly!”

Still nuzzling her belly, Bluefeather slid off you liner covering the full bulging nappy. “You're my stinky filly.”

“Hmm...always yours, Blue.”

Smiling, Bluefeather reached for and grabbed the changing bag with a wing. “That hay burger smelt a lot better going in.” Nappy removed, she giggled as she quickly and expertly applied the wipes to clean Cyclone’s messy rear end.

“Uuugh...phew,” Cyclone got a deep whiff of the waste she had expelled and quickly she covered her nose. “You aren't wrong, sexy.”

That just made Bluefeather giggle all the harder as she folded the soiled wipes in with the equally soiled nappy and applied the talcum powder liberally to her lover’s now sparkling clean ass. “As stinky as you may be I swear I'll never tire of this.” She leant in and blew very loud raspberry on her belly button.

Now, it is a well-known fact that Cyclone was an extremely ticklish mare. Now, as she erupted in fits of giggles and peals of laughter, Bluefeather knew it well too. “HAHOHOHOHEEEEEEEE!” Cyclone writhed, helpless on the carpeted floor, “Yaaa-hAHAHA!! Th-that was sneaky!”

Before her lover could pee all over the hotel room, Bluefeather quickly placed a clean nappy over her butt. She did too store away the fact that Cyclone was so ticklish, not just on her ears. ‘Hmm, perhaps that will come in useful at Caffeinated’s BDSM nights…’ she thought with a smile. “The key is distraction. My little filly will have to sleep with nanna tonight though, as the hotel doesn't have an adult crib.”

Still breathing heavily, Cyclone giggled up at her lover as she got rid of her used nappy. “At least you didn't go for my ears.”

“Your ears are for a different play date.” Bluefeather asserted, kissing Cyclone’s forehead and very gently picking her up and bundling her in the luxurious Princess sized bed.

“Hmmm!” Immediately, Cyclone found the soft, comfortable bed with its Neighponese sheets and cloud mattress to her liking and she snuggled in deep under the duvet.

In very short order, after washing her hooves in the en suite bathroom, Bluefeather climbed into bed and, after extinguishing the wall mounted gas lights, she spooned up to Cyclone’s back. “I'll protect you from any nightmares, my love, I promise.”

Nestled into Bluefeather’s belly and chest, Cyclone gave a tiny little sniffle as her eyes closed. “Th-Thank you, love.”

“You're welcome, my dearest.” She hugged Cyclone tightly as she started to fall asleep, though by a sheer act of willpower she stayed awake just long enough for her marefriend’s breathing to become deep and steady before she finally allowed sleep to overtake her.