Soarin had always been a stallion who spoke his mind. It was what Spitfire liked about him. Or at least she liked it when he wasn’t badmouthing their cushy job within probable earshot of ponies who occasionally chatted with Princess Celestia.

“Look,” he said, sounding mildly annoyed about her attitude towards said badmouthing, “all I’m saying is that this isn’t what we signed up for, right?”

“We’re the elite fliers of Canterlot, handling the aerial tasks with the highest priority in the kingdom,” she diplomatically recited their job description. Please just agree to disagree, she thought, please just agree to disagree, please-

“Oh, please.” He snorted, pointedly ignoring her exasperated sigh. “Just look at this Friendliness Festival.”

“Friendship Festival,” Spitfire corrected him automatically. She had accepted long ago that his mouth tended to move too fast for his memory or sometimes even his entire brain to keep up.

“Right,” he said without missing a beat. “What did we do there? Clear the sky! Weather control! For the kid princess and her buddies from Armageddonville! It’s an insult!”

Oh for the love of all that is holy, are you trying to get us kicked out of the Wonderbolts? “Princess Twilight Sparkle saves Equestria with depressing regulari-”

“Weather control!” Soarin snapped, obviously homing in on his biggest gripe of the afternoon. “And just look at our amazing duty now!”

“We are protecting Princess Celestia, her guests and all of the other inhabitants of the castle in ca-”

“It’s a suicide watch.”

Spitfire froze. “...pardon me?”

“Wait. Did you actually not realize this before?” Soarin gave her a look of disbelief. “You didn’t ask yourself why we were stationed right above Edgy McBrokenhorn’s room? If she loses it and jumps, we swoop in to catch her.”

“Soarin, please. Mocking her injury is a line even you with your big mouth shouldn’t cross. And the same goes for implying that she is suicidal just because she...” Spitfire gestured vaguely.

“Just because she prolly can’t get her horn fixed and is without purpose now that she is out of the ‘evil henchpony’ business since her old boss is dead? Yeah, whatever made me think that-”

“These rooms may be comfortable, but they’re not soundproof, you know?” Tempest Shadow, former Commander of the Storm King’s armies, snapped from the window right below them with a ferocity that made Soarin jump.

Oh goody, we forgot to check whether her windows were open. Spitfire groaned. No, wait, this is not your fault. It’s Soarin’s fault. Let him deal with this mess. That’s a good idea, why didn’t you get it sooner?

“We’re sorry, ma’am,” Soarin said loudly even though Tempest obviously had had little trouble hearing him before, “we’ll be quiet while you research who you need to screw over this time in the hopes of getting your stupid horn back.”

OH RIGHT, BECAUSE LETTING SOARIN DEAL WITH ANYTHING IS A STUPID IDEA! Spitfire cringed. Tempest Shadow was not the most trusted pony in Equestria, but Princess Twilight had vouched for her, and Princess Celestia herself had issued a full pardon. And while nopony intended to forget Tempest’s recent history, everypony had agreed to welcome her back to Equestria. Well, everypony aside from Soarin, obviously. “What the hay!?” she hissed, but Soarin looked unrepentant.

“Oh, whatever. She tried to turn all four princesses to stone and let her unhinged master take over the entire world just to get her magic back.” He huffed angrily. “She’d kill me without a second thought if she thought it’d bring her closer to her recovery.”

Much to her credit, the recently-reformed unicorn opted not to lash out with her unstable magic. “You’re wrong,” Tempest finally said, and they heard her stomping away from the window. “I’d kill you for much less than that.”

Spitfire sighed deeply. She’ll have to hurry up - at this rate, I’ll be the one to kill him. Of course, she knew that this was just a silly fantasy. After all, he’s not entirely wrong, is he? Royal pardon or not, Tempest Shadow invaded Canterlot, turned three princesses to stone and hunted the last one all across the world, all just because the Storm King promised to heal her. What would happen if she one day read somewhere that, say, drinking alicorn blood would cure her? Still, that’s more of an immediate problem for Princess Celestia and not us, so this was really ugly and unnecessary. “What a mess,” she muttered. “We’ll need a miracle if we don’t want to flip hayburgers for the next thirty years.”

“You won’t,” Soarin whispered, looking as if the realization of what he had done had just hit him, too. “If anypony asks, I’ll shoulder the blame. I wouldn’t even be lying.”

“You’re not going to-” Spitfire started, but stopped talking when she heard the voice of the one pony who tended to speak his mind in a more blunt fashion than even Soarin.

“Oh, EWWW! Is that horn-... GROSS!”

Spitfire paled under her coat. “Oh no, not him...”

“How DARE you insult my eyes with this... this... DEFORMITY!?”

“Is that-” Soarin started to ask, but stopped when he heard the characteristic sound of a hoof hitting a face at full speed.

Welcome home, Prince Blueblood. How was your vacation? Why yes, you missed a few new developments around here.

“CORRIDOR WINDOW!” Spitfire frantically signaled for him to move across the roof. The noise had come from the corridor connecting the various VIP suites, and there were windows there that Soarin could use to quickly get to the scene. She watched him take off, but didn’t follow. Instead, she dropped straight down and barreled through the open window in order to get to the corridor through Tempest’s room. Let’s flank her. Always smarter than coming from just one direction.

She was halfway through the room when a pony came crashing straight through the door. The white-coated unicorn groaned in pain, but had the common sense to get back to his hooves as quickly as possible. “HELP ME!” Prince Blueblood screamed when he saw her.

She did so by pushing him out of the way when his assailant came in behind him. This is so going to appear in Princess Celestia’s daily briefing...

Tempest had done something rather bad. She knew that. She was not some sort of mentally ill pony who told herself that it was fine to kick other ponies through doors. Not that that had ever stopped her from doing just that in the past, but Tempest was supposed to be one of Good Guys now, and she was reasonably sure that excessive violence was not on their list of acceptable actions. Bad enough that you punched him. Sure, he was a jerk, and yeah, your horn is a touchy subject, and YES, HE WAS A JERK, but this wasn’t entirely just about him. It was also the idiot on the roof. He egged you on. And then that other idiot comes along and is a jerk, and... She sighed. Bottom line, you shouldn’t have punched him. And you definitely shouldn’t have kicked- She froze when she realized that the idiot was not the only one in the room aside from her.

Intruder.

Her instincts kicked in before she could even remind herself that she wanted to stop escalating things.

Somebody broke into your room.

“HELP ME!” the unicorn she had kicked through the door screamed at the pegasus intruder, only to be shoved aside.

THERE IS SOMEBODY IN YOUR ROOM.

Her pulse was racing, and she could feel the muscles in her legs tensing. Tempest had never been a pony with many possessions, but during her time serving the Storm King, she had kept a few personal items in her room. Things she picked up here and there. Little treasures. Mementos. At least she had kept them until somebody had stolen them. Had broken into her room. Had stolen from her room. Had taunted her. Mocked her. Laughed.

SOMEBODY is TRYING to STEAL from YOU and THROW everything OVERBOARD.

She was trembling. The room slowly fell away, her vision focusing solely on the pony who obviously wanted to do to her what some of the Storm King’s dumber minions had done years ago.

Again and again.

Until one day, she had made them stop.

Until one day, she had hurt those who had hurt her.

Until one day, she had made an example of one of them.

ENd thEm kILL theM bReAk EVeRy bOnE thEY hAve.

Nobody had ever been stupid enough to break into her room again.

Until today.

“Stand down, or-” The Wonderbolt’s words were cut off when Tempest’s right hind leg caught her squarely in the chest after a quick somersault with an added spin to face the other way.

Time seemed to slow down as the pegasus was falling backwards, towards one of the closed windows. Tempest did not think of herself as a cruel pony, but she couldn’t deny that watching her crash through the window filled her with an almost perverse joy. “Die,” she whispered, allowing her magic to gather around the jagged stump of her horn.

“NO!”

It was the unicorn. The one who had insulted her. The one she had punched and tossed through her door. She had forgotten about him - he was obviously some spoiled moron, as far away from being a threat as she was from being worthy of Princess Twilight Sparkle’s friendship - but now he was coming in fast. No matter, he’s weak. He won’t sway my aim. Let him watch. Her focus was disrupted when something suddenly covered her head. “WHAT!?” She reared, startled by the sudden darkness caused by- A blanket? He threw a BLANKET over my head? She snorted angrily as he actually started tugging at the fabric, as if trying to steer her away from wherever her victim was by now. “Seriously? SERIOUSLY?” Her magic was manifesting in the form of large sparks bursting out of the remains of her horn. Fine! Two burials then! Not my problem! Might as well go out with a bang!

She was about to incinerate the other unicorn when it hit her that there was still one pegasus unaccounted for.

And then the pegasus himself hit her.

The second Wonderbolt tackled her with a frantic scream, knocking the wind out of her. She felt that she was being moved but couldn’t see where she was going- Stupid blanket! - and then she was falling.

And falling.

And.

Falling.

Oh.

Her brain ran the numbers even as she finally managed to remove the cursed blanket. Her suite was right under the roof, which meant that she was now a little less than eighteen floors above beautiful, but also very hard pavement.

Oh, this is going to suck.

She had been in a similar scenario once, after one of the Storm King’s minions had “accidentally” knocked her off her airship shortly after lift-off. Her starting height had been lower, and the ground had been a lot softer than the solid pavement that was rapidly approaching her, but even after cushioning the fall by blasting at the ground with her magic, she had broken three legs in the process. (She had refrained from “accidentally” knocking said minion off the ship afterwards, but he had spent the rest of the trip tied up and dangling from a rope under the hull.)

Oh, this is going to suck so hard.

There was only one thing that made her smile, even as she was falling to her death.

“OH MY GOODNESS WHAT IN AUNTIE’S NAME IS HAPPENING THIS ISN’T WHAT I HAD IN MIND!”

That stupid unicorn had failed to let go of the blanket and was now falling next to her.

Spitfire had known that she had screwed up when Tempest Shadow’s glare had gone from angry to downright murderous after noticing her presence in the room. She wasn’t exactly sure what she had done to aggravate the former henchpony, but there was no denying that her mere presence had likely escalated the situation. And then the unicorn had kicked her straight out of the room. Somehow. Again, the details were not entirely clear, but she did know one thing: Wow, she hits like a freight train. She caught herself several floors away from where she had started out, flapping her wings rapidly to gain height.

Just as she was nearing the roof again, everypony else had apparently decided to meet her half-way: Soarin came out through one of the open windows, and he was tackling Tempest Shadow, who somehow had managed to get her head stuck under a blanket.

And Prince Blueblood was somehow holding on to the other end of the blanket.

Oh, Soarin... why must you make my life so complicated?

She watched as Tempest, now in free fall after Soarin let go of her, untangled herself from the blanket. Even from this distance, Spitfire could tell that the former invader was coolly calculating her odds of surviving the landing. (She could also tell that the odds were more or less zero.) Prince Blueblood was less cool about the sudden change in scenery: “OH MY GOODNESS WHAT IN AUNTIE’S NAME IS HAPPENING THIS ISN’T WHAT I HAD IN MIND!”

I’m going to be flipping hayburgers for the rest of my life. She cursed under her breath. “SOARIN!”

“YEAH, YEAH, I GOT HIM!” the source of all her troubles shouted and approached the two falling unicorns from high above. His vertical roll was part of the regular Wonderbolts repertoire - even if it was usually not performed while moving towards the ground - and allowed him to snatch the falling prince while elegantly avoiding the potential threat next to him. “OKAY, GO!”

Spitfire smirked. Yes, it was her job to avoid Tempest from creating Canterlot’s most celebrated crater, but she did not recall any orders to be gentle about it, especially not while she was still riding an adrenaline high. Hey, you wanna know who else can hit like a freight train? She flew in a quick horizontal loop, gathering momentum while Tempest was approaching her altitude. At the right moment, Spitfire accelerated further, flying in a straight line and ramming her front hooves into the unicorn’s left side, breaking her fall by shoving her straight towards and then against the palace wall. A quick glance down told her that her aim had been perfect - there was a large balcony two floors below, and Tempest crashed straight onto it.

Okay, let’s call in the medics to take care of this mess. Now that she’s out cold, she should be safe to handle. She smiled to herself as a plan was starting to form in her head. Have some staff take care of the debris, make sure that none of the bystanders got seriously hurt by falling glass, quick photo op on the street with the poor, poor victims, reassure them that the obviously insane Tempest has been dealt with, and then-

Down on the balcony, Tempest slowly got back to her hooves. The pegasus frowned deeply - she wasn’t quite sure how the unicorn was still conscious, much less how she was able to stand right after such a fall, but it was obvious that Spitfire’s actions had not improved her mood. Again. Wild magic burst out of her horn, showering the balcony with bright sparks.

Okay, I know I’m fast and agile, but I really don’t think I can dodge lightning blasts...

However, before she could worry about whether she’d be able to rock the scarred as well as Tempest, the balcony doors behind the unicorn were flung open. Yes! Guards! Take care of-... She cursed under her breath when she saw whose balcony had doubled as the landing zone.

Tempest stopped channeling her magic, almost as if she could feel the aura of murderous rage coming from Princess Celestia. The unicorn turned around and immediately backpedaled when she saw the princess’s expression, which was beyond mad. Then, slowly, the ruler of the day directed her glare of death upwards until she was looking right at Spitfire. While Tempest practically crawled past her, Celestia used one of her wings to point first at Spitfire, then at the throne room she had just come out of.

Welcome to McHayburgers, what can I get you?

Minutes earlier, Princess Celestia mused that it had been a rough week, even by her high standards.

Canterlot had been seized by hostile forces, three out of four princesses had been turned to stone, the fourth had briefly been sucked into a tornado and, worst of all, Luna was about to mess up the calendar even more than it already was.

“You’re making that face again,” Luna calmly informed her and adjusted her reading glasses.

“What face?” Celestia asked and adjusted her own glasses in retaliation. True political drama always played out on multiple levels.

“The face where you narrate to yourself that restoring the proper equilibrium between daytime and nighttime is unreasonable.”

“You want three full cycles of night.” She pointed at the papers on the table between them. There were constellations, calendars and various graphs detailing everything from crop rotations to the next eighteen Hearth’s Warming Eve celebrations.

The younger princess shrugged. “I would call that reasonable after three cycles of daylight.”

It was a delicate subject, of course. Celestia knew better than to make references to the last time Luna had decided to make the night last significantly longer than usual. There is a time and a place for everything, she thought. And this is not it. Likewise, she knew that it would be silly to bring up the fact that it hadn’t been her choice to make the day last that long - Luna knew that it was hard to move celestial bodies while having been turned to stone, not that she seemed to care. “Look.” She sighed and took off her glasses, allowing Luna to claim victory in this aspect of the negotiations. “The ecosystem is already in turmoil and my mailbox is filling up with complaints about plants and wildlife having suffered. Even Fluttershy wrote a sternly worded letter!”

“So you are suggesting that we should just... forget about this?” Luna narrowed her eyes.

“No.” Celestia carefully held up a hoof. “Absolutely not. I suggest maintaining a day/night cycle, but with a slightly longer night for the next couple of weeks.” She leaned over the papers to bring her face closer to Luna’s. “Please, work with me here! The kingdom is a mess, Shining is mad at me for endangering his wife, and I have an avian pirate crew, a cat con artist, a hippogriff princess and half an army of Storm Creatures to entertain.”

“Actually,” Luna said after a short pause, “Princess Skystar left a couple of days ago, together with Twilight Sparkle and her friends, remember? They wanted to fully mend their relation with Queen Novo as well as each other.”

“Oh... right. Goodness, look at how badly I’m losing track of things already!”

“But Tempest Shadow and Grubber are here to make up for it.”

“Yes, yes. Those two. Great.” Celestia rolled her eyes. “Grubber at least is cooperating.” He seems perfectly happy with trying to prepare the Storm Creatures for whatever niche we find for them here in Equestria.

“I heard Miss Shadow is less... enthusiastic?”

A sigh. “She’s staying in her room most of the time. Occasionally sneaks out to grab food from the kitchen. It’s like having a stowaway in our VIP wing!” She started to roll up the various papers, taking Luna’s smalltalk as a sign that she had agreed to the compromise. “I don’t even want to know what she went through while serving the Storm King as part of a ruthless warrior army. It has probably been decades since she last lived among ponies. Imagine-” The faint sound of a shattering window made her freeze.

Celestia hadn’t seriously believed that Tempest might try to end her own life, but she had learned several centuries ago not to leave such things to chance. Now, even as she was turning around to look through one of the windows next to her currently vacant throne, she was praying that the two Wonderbolts currently on special guard duty were prepared to deal with this emergency. Although... I would have imagined her to at least open a window before jumping out of it...

She frowned lightly when she saw that the pony falling from the eighteenth floor was not Tempest, but in fact one of the Wonderbolts. It took her a split-second to recall the guard schedules to put a name next to the falling pegasus. Captain Spitfire? She paused. Actually, no, Soarin is currently Captain. Those two and their competitiveness! ...come to think of it, isn’t Soarin supposed to be the second Wonderbolt on duty? Where is he?

As if having waited for his cue, Soarin came into her field of view, and next to him, two ponies were in free fall: Tempest and- “BLUEBLOOD!”

Ruler over a nation with centuries of experience or not, the sight of her (very, very distant) nephew falling to his death shook her: she stumbled towards the balcony beyond the window, her wings moving in a highly uncoordinated fashion. Wasn’t he supposed to still be on vacation? What is he doing here? WHAT HAPPENED THERE? Behind her, Luna was barking orders, and Celestia could hear her guards scrambling all over the place. By the time she got close to the window, Soarin had expertly caught Blueblood and Spitfire moved to catch Tempest. Okay, calm down. Calm down. Blueblood’s safe. Calm down. No need to panic. Everypony is safe. Everypony acted professionally, and we can-

Spitfire slammed into Tempest with much more force than seemed necessary, and Celestia could hear the unicorn crashing into the wall a few floors above. Then, without much fanfare, Tempest’s body hit the balcony, and Celestia could hear her cursing quietly.

“Kibitz,” she heard herself saying, “be a dear and have our high-security cells cleaned up. I have a feeling that we will need at least one.”

“Sister, maybe I should handle this,” Luna suggested softly. “You seem a bit-...” She froze when Celestia turned to look at her. “Right, right,” she verbally backpedaled, smiling nervously, “never mind, my bad...”

She’s right, you know? a quiet voice at the back of her mind asked, but she shoved it aside.

Outside, Tempest was getting back to her hooves. Even in her anger, Celestia marveled at the unicorn’s strength and endurance. Then, sparks of raw, unfiltered magic showered the balcony as she apparently took aim at Spitfire with her broken horn, and the princess once again told herself that there was a time and place for everything.

She flung open the doors leading to the balcony, and the large unicorn paused visibly before even one word had been spoken. Celestia wasn’t sure if her anger could be felt like a physical force or if the adrenaline rush had sharpened Tempest’s senses. Either way, the shower of sparks stopped almost immediately, and she turned around. “Y-Your Majesty!?” All signs of hatred and anger were immediately replaced by fear and panic as she stumbled backwards.

Celestia gave her another glare for good measure before looking up at Spitfire, who was watching the scene with growing despair. “Get inside,” she instructed the unicorn and signaled the Wonderbolts to follow suit.

Twilight is barely out of the country, and ponies start shoving each other out of windows. Talk about friendship problems! Typical. Fine, we’ll do this my way. She huffed, making the already cowering Tempest twitch as she passed her.

It took them less than two minutes to sit down in a neat row in front of her throne: Soarin and Spitfire were sitting between Tempest and Blueblood, probably as a token effort at keeping the latter safe from the former. Luna was sitting on her own throne to her right, while Kibitz was on Celestia’s left, ready to take notes and supply her with information on the fly.

“I am so very, very disappointed in both of you,” she finally whispered, addressing the Wonderbolts. “I assigned you, the highest-ranking members of the elite flying team of Canterlot, to make sure that nopony would attempt anything regrettable... and then I find you two, the key figure of your assignment, and a Prince of Equestria, in a mid-air brawl!? Unless we’re about to get the mother of all twists once we establish a timeline, I believe it’s safe to say that you two are at least out of the First Wing.” She ignored the way the two Wonderbolts were trembling. Being demoted from the top of the pack to at least the second league was harsh, but the image of a member of her family nearly falling to his death was still haunting her.

“This was not a hard task! I don’t even want to know how you screwed it up! No, actually, I do! How did you manage to screw this up? I assigned you to that post just in case so you can make sure one pony doesn’t jump to her death, and there are suddenly almost TWO casualties?” She took a deep breath and shot Luna a quick glare, just in case her younger sister was getting any ideas about interfering again. “And Spitfire, I saw you engaging in an entirely unnecessary attack on Tempest in what I suppose should have been a rescue maneuver. I’m well aware that she is no saint and won’t pretend I know all the facts about whatever fight you had gotten into, but the Wonderbolts obviously need a lesson in kindness.” She paused as a crazy idea was somehow taking the fastest route straight to her mouth, and she put on a wide, fake smile. “Actually, that’s a great idea! I know a pegasus who specializes in kindness! She can lead the Wonderbolts while you two are busy scrubbing the halls of wherever you end up!” She used her magic to grab an empty scroll and a quill from behind her throne. “Dear Fluttershy,” she read the letter even as she was hastily writing it, “I have the most wonderful of news. Starting immediately, you will be the new Captain of the First Wing of the Wonderbolts. Please report to your new post tomorrow.”

Kibitz coughed quietly. “Young Miss Fluttershy is out of the country at the moment.”

“FINE!” She scratched out the last word. “Please report to your new post once you return from your current trip. Signed, Princess Celestia.” She rolled up the scroll and sent it to Spike with a spark of magic, assuming that Fluttershy would be nearby. Then she took a deep breath and gave the four ponies a dark look, which was made worse by the fact that her fake smile was still in place. “Now that we have agreed on the minimum sentence, let’s go through this incident properly and see just how badly all of you screwed up.”

Tempest was seemingly trying to make herself as small as possible, the two Wonderbolts were completely devastated... and Blueblood was looking rather indignant. “Pardon me, aunt?” he asked, and Celestia was trying very hard not to accidentally stare him down. “I certainly hope you did not include me when you said that. I am merely a victim of this... this... ruffian!” He gestured towards Tempest, nearly punching Soarin in the face in the process.

Ruffian. Celestia blinked. This... ruffian. Tempest Shadow. The pony who invaded Canterlot. The pony who took out three princesses... and the Ponyville mailmare. The pony who apparently terrorized a town and exploded an airship while hunting for Twilight. The pony who nearly ended Equestria as we know it. And he calls her a-... She froze. Oh my goodness, he doesn’t have the faintest idea who she is, does he? It would have been improper to scream, so she settled for gritting her teeth instead. My vapid nephew went on his stupid vacation and somehow managed to not only miss the news that his homeland had been invaded, but also apparently to aggravate the pony mostly responsible for it. “Blueblood, dearest...” Her deceptively sweet tone made the Wonderbolts cringe. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Blueblood’s mood immediately improved, and he sat up straight. “This cripple punched me and then kicked me through a door!” Behind them, half a dozen unicorn guards immediately raised their spears, ready to fling them at Tempest, should she try to retaliate for the completely unnecessary namecalling. Thankfully, she didn’t move. At all.

“Just like that?” Celestia asked. “Nothing happened before that?”

Blueblood hesitated, which was all the answer she needed. “Uh... nooo...?” He waited for Tempest to contradict him and couldn’t hide a tiny smile when she remained silent. “No, nothing happened.”

You filthy, cowardly liar. “I... see.”

“One of the Wonderbolts came to my help, but she was kicked through the window. Then, while saving her from whatever spell that unicorn was trying to cast-” Soarin and Spitfire exchanged glances, but let the assertion stand. “-the other Wonder-...“ He caught himself, and Soarin was looking extremely uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Ah... I mean... I... we...”

Celestia narrowed her eyes. Really, Soarin? What did you do? Were you the one who pushed my nephew out of an eighteenth floor window? I don’t even think we have thought of a punishment for that sort of thing. I feel that would call for something... creative. Are you allergic to immolation? “Yes...? Would you maybe like to fill in the blanks, Captain Soarin?”

Soarin took a deep breath and closed his eyes, obviously preparing for the worst. “Of course, Your Highness. You see...”

“I pushed him,” Tempest whispered.

The Wonderbolts turned their heads so fast that Celestia briefly worried about whiplash. Even Blueblood blinked several times. “You... what?” Celestia asked sharply.

“I attacked that unicorn for no reason.” Tempest spoke quietly, but her voice carried across the entire room. “And then I also assaulted the two Wonderbolts. They acted purely in self-defense. It’s all my fault.”

By now, the two Wonderbolts were giving her hard stares, but didn’t speak out. Even Blueblood frowned.

...what’s going on here? At her age, genuine surprises were becoming sort of a rarity, so Celestia usually enjoyed the thrill of the unknown. Usually. Is she actually taking the entire blame for this? ...and are the others letting her? “So... you are saying that...” She tried to mentally join Tempest’s fantasy land. “Hold on. You saw Blueblood... and punched him? Just like that?”

Tempest let out a short, raspy laugh. “His face was asking for it.”

“And then the Wonderbolts tried to protect him... and you... pushed both of them... and Blueblood... out of the window.” When no answer came, she huffed. “And then you jumped out yourself for good measure!?”

“Fell out.” Tempest weakly waved at Soarin. “While fighting him. They did everything right and should be commended for their actions.” Finally, for the first time since entering the room, she looked up, and Celestia shuddered when she found herself looking into completely lifeless eyes. “You know what you must do,” she whispered.

Goodness, this is suicide by princess. Poor thing... you spent your entire life as a tool for a mad king, and now you don’t feel that you can fit into any other role. How broken must you be to practically beg me to lock you up? She took a deep breath. Her adrenaline rush had ended quite some time ago, and now she was just feeling tired. Okay, this isn’t going the way I imagined it. Luna was right, I was way too emotional, and now I can’t back out without looking weak. Her gaze moved to the lead Wonderbolt. Work with me here! You know I’d cut you a deal, right? In a week, nopony will remember this entire episode, and you could be back at the top! But sentencing Tempest would be harder to sweep under the rug. “Captain Soarin, can you confirm this account?” she asked, shaking her head almost imperceptibly.

There was a long pause. “Yes, your Highness,” Soarin finally said.

Next to him, Spitfire let out a quiet hiss as she barely refrained from doing the right thing and calling him out. Celestia honestly couldn’t blame either of them for going along with a highly convenient lie that allowed them to get away scot-free, but she was severely disappointed. “I see.”

“Yeah,” Soarin said and idly stretched his wings, “real shame that she’s just going to assert her diplomatic immunity.”

“Her WHAT?” Blueblood did a visible double take. “That lunatic is a DIPLOMAT?”

His outburst was a welcome distraction while Celestia and Soarin were exchanging looks of surprise and mischief. She also noticed his wing jabbing Spitfire in her side, likely to make her follow along. Talk about having your cake and eating it, too. Well, I prefer not having to sentence anypony over sentencing the wrong pony. She gave him a subtle nod. Well, let’s see where this will go.

“Yes,” Soarin said loudly, as if volume correlated with truth, “she is... an ambassador.”

It was unfortunate that Soarin was sitting between Tempest and Blueblood, because from that position, he was unable to see both of them giving him the exact same look of incredulity. “She’s an ambassador?” Blueblood finally asked, clearly exasperated. “Of what country? Hooliganistan?”

In the background, a guard sniggered before coughing loudly in an effort to hide it.

“Oh... she’s from... uh...” Soarin was obviously running out of steam.

“Latmareia,” Spitfire took over seamlessly, obviously unwilling to let Soarin hog all the glory of getting away with lying to a Prince of Equestria. “This is Ambassador... Victoria Tempest Von Shadow of Latmareia. We usually just call her Tempest or Tempest Shadow, though.”

Somebody better call the Fawntastic Four; Doctor Shadow is on the loose again! Celestia had to bite her tongue to avoid laughing. The fate of Tempest and the Wonderbolts’ leadership comes down to whether my nephew gets a blatant comic book reference or not.

Blueblood slowly raised an eyebrow at the pair. “...huh,” he said after a very long pause, and the two Wonderbolts relaxed visibly. Behind them, Tempest had already hidden her confusion behind a carefully practiced mask of cool professionalism. Meanwhile, three guards hurriedly excused themselves in a desperate attempt to not burst out laughing inside the throne room. “Well. That... changes things, I suppose. Aunt? I trust you to write a stern letter to the... Latmareian... government. Immunity or not, assaulting royalty is still a grave offense.”

“Of course, dear,” Celestia said, trying not to smile too widely. “Why don’t you visit the infirmary and let a doctor give you a once-over? We can chat more during dinner.”

“Yes, yes... looking forward to it.” He got up and bowed slightly at the two princesses before heading towards the large doors leading to the castle halls.

Soarin got up as well, and Spitfire immediately got the hint. “Well, that was fun, but we should prolly get back to-”

“Sit.” Celestia gave them an unamused look.

The Wonderbolts laughed sheepishly and sat back down. “Worth a shot...”

She ignored their antics and looked over at Tempest, who immediately went back to cowering. “Shhh, you have nothing to worry, young one.”

“Oh?” Tempest laughed bitterly. “I’m not sure why you all suddenly decided to lie to a royal, but it doesn’t change what I did.” She sighed. “It doesn’t change who I am.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m the Storm King’s chief enforcer and bounty hunter,” Tempest said. “I’m the pony who turned you to stone. I’m the one who terrorized towns, destroyed airships-”

“You’re the pony who deliberately jumped in harm’s way in order to protect Twilight. And you’re also the one who just tried to take the full blame for an incident that is likely more complex than that.” Celestia smiled warmly. “Miss Berrytwist, you are not the pony you once were. We are all capable of change and redemption. All it takes is time and the willingness to make up for our mistakes.”

The tall unicorn thought about this. “Thank you for the kind words, Princess,” she finally said and started to leave. “But don’t call me that. Fizzlepop Berrytwist was a good pony who didn’t kick royals through doors or Wonderbolts through windows.” She gave her a faint smile over her shoulder. “But maybe, one day, I can become her again.”

“Yes, yes, I permit you to leave as I have decided that this meeting is over,” Celestia complained playfully when Tempest was already at the door, causing Luna to chuckle. “She’ll come around,” she told nopony in particular when the doors had closed behind her.

“Once she stops attacking royals,” Luna quipped. “That seems to be her favorite pastime. We should invite Shining Armor to come over, then she could go six for six.”

“Well, at least he’d probably give her a proper fight.” Celestia allowed herself a smile as she thought about the former Captain of the Royal Guards going hoof to hoof against Tempest. Maybe I can arrange something like that later and charge for admission. That’d probably pay for whatever damage these loons caused today. “Anyway.” She heard the two Wonderbolts sigh. “I presume Blueblood and I will have a good laugh about this at dinner time. You two managed to avoid punishment for this incident, but if he demands that you perform for his birthday party in pink tutus for lying to him, I won’t stop him.” The pair nodded meekly. “That all being said, I would still like to hear what actually happened. There will be no punishment for anything involving Tempest or my nephew, I just wish to know what is going on.”

“Well, before I begin, I would like to stress that I had no idea she would overhear me,” Soarin said and smiled sheepishly. Spitfire just sighed.

Oh, Miss Shadow, don’t just stay in your room all day! Why don’t you relax outside? That sounds like fun! What could go wrong? Everypony is so nice! Tempest snorted.

She didn’t like to admit it, but she had felt the impact of that idiot Wonderbolt. Soarin, wasn’t it? And while the fall from the eighteenth floor had fortunately been cut short, it had been cut short by the other one - Spitfire? - tackling her straight into a wall, which she had also felt. And yes, she had also felt the two-story drop onto the balcony.

I don’t care what they say about reformed villains not wearing their old armor, I’m not going to run around without protection anymore. She quickly glanced around before groaning and leaning against a wall. Stupid Wonderbolts. Stupid wall. Stupid balcony. Stupid lack of armor. And stupid pride! Why did you play it cool? It wouldn’t have killed you to show Princess Celestia that you’re in pain. “Bah!” she scolded her weak mind and pushed away from the wall. “You’re Tempest Shadow.” She was almost at her destination, anyway. “You’re indestructible.” Almost there. “If your enemies see you limping around, they will stop fearing you!” Almost. “You don’t limp. You don’t feel pain. They must think that they can’t-AUGH!” The jolt of pain started in her right shoulder and ran along her flank, causing her to collapse face-first against the wall. “Dammit! Come on, girl! Come on, you can do this! If the Storm King sees you like this, he’ll-” She froze when she realized that there was no Storm King and no ever-present threat of being deemed replaceable anymore. Stupid... stupid... She pushed against the wall to stop her slow descent towards the floor. Okay, what would a normal, non-evil pony do? “GRUBBER, MOVE YOUR FUZZY BEHIND HERE!” she roared. Okay, that was not the worst start, but you can do better, right? “...PLEASE!?” she added after a moment of hesitation. Okay, never mind. It’s a work in progress.

Proper or not, her words got the job done: a door at the end of the corridor flew open, and her hedgehog assistant burst into the corridor. “Yes! Here! I’m here!” He paused slightly when he spotted her. “Hey, boss... what’s up?”

Tempest waited patiently for him to jog over. Well, it wasn’t quite jogging. Ambitious walking, maybe. “Okay, this may sound-“

“Man, you look like crap.” Grubber’s mouth was clearly bypassing his brain and self-preservation instincts. “Did you pick a fight with some princess? Did she kick your flank?” He shrugged when he noticed her confused glare. “Hey, I overheard some staff today. They said that baddies are always significantly weaker after they reform. I bet you can’t even use your magical lightning thingy anymore.”

She gritted her teeth as her impulse to fry him with exactly that magical lightning clashed with the realization that the Good Guys probably weren’t huge on reducing their assistants to twitching heaps. “I could,” she hissed, then added lamely, “I just... don’t feel like it. Okay?”

Grubber nodded solemnly. “I... am so very sorry.” Then he held out his arms. “Hug?”

Tempest growled, and much to his credit, he backed off a step. “I’m not weakened! I just got tossed out of the eighteenth floor, okay?”

“Well, in that case, you look GREAT!” he said and gave her a quick thumbs-up. Then his skeptical look returned. “So, what, did one of the the princesses throw you out of the window?”

She hesitated. “It... no, it wasn’t a princess. Look, can we-“ She saw him raising an eyebrow and sighed. “Fine. It was a pegasus who threw me out BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING OKAY?”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Grubber quickly assured her, making soothing gestures. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, just the price we have to pay for being on the winning team n-“ He yelped as her lightning struck the spot just to his right and arced across the floor, leaving scorch marks. He carefully eyed the narrow path of destruction that had barely missed him. Then his usual, slightly nervous smile returned in full force. “You rang?”

“Get one of the guys, I need a lift,” she muttered and immediately glared at him to signal that the time to banter about alleged weaknesses was over. “It’s a miracle that I could walk this far on my own, but-”

“Ohhh, I got just the thing!” He waddled back to the door, and she could hear him shout instructions. A few seconds later, a hulking Storm Creature showed itself, almost comically peeking out through the door before entering the hall.

Tempest squinted, trying to spot the tiny features that distinguished her otherwise identical guards. “...Alfonz?”

The Storm Creature nodded and grunted something that was probably his way of saying, “Indeed, it is I.” (Tempest couldn’t fully understand their language, but she liked to imagine her troops to be educated and well-spoken. It made her treat them with respect, which in turn reduced the number of “accidents” she got into.)

“Bring her inside, please,” Grubber told him after waving him over.

More grunting and gesturing from Alfonz: “With all due respect, but I fail to see why you assigned me this task. Her legs seem to function within acceptable operational parameters.”

“Hey, don’t give me that look, okay? I’m not the one who got turned into a wuss by the power of friendship.”

You stop exploding airships for a few weeks and your entire reputation goes downhill. “I can barely move, but I promise you two that I won’t be the first to hit the floor,” she hissed.

“See, now she’s mad at you. Don’t make her knit you a passive-aggressive sweater.”

Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it, she told herself as she felt her magic flaring up deep within her. He’s baiting you, don’t give him the satisfaction! “He’s right, Alfonz,” she said, giving them her most fake smile possible, “and I’ll knit it out of his fur.” Her smile widened enough to show her teeth. “I’ll start between the legs.”

“Right.” Grubber nervously licked his lips. “You heard the lady, get her inside.”

Alfonz gave them a shrug before wrapping an arm around her waist and effortlessly picking her up. Tempest barely bit back a loud curse as her body protested against the rough treatment. After a few steps, the giant had brought her into a large banquet hall, and she allowed herself a smile. Home, sweet home. The hall was populated by several dozen Storm Creatures, all of them peacefully working alone or in teams on a variety of small projects. Integrating them into society was going to be a challenge, but for now, their arts and crafts projects could be sold for good money, and the two princesses let them live down here for free.

“Make some space!” Grubber shouted, gesturing at a small group playing some pick-up game on the floor.

They quickly moved, and Tempest tried not to sigh. Large hall or not, space and especially furniture were a luxury in here. The floor is fine. I just need to get somebody to rub me down, then maybe an hour of napping in peace. At least none of those pesky royals or Wonderbolts or whatever are dumb enough to tackle me while I’m surrounded by a small army.

“Bring it in!” Grubber’s words caught her off guard, and she looked around.

“Oh my goodness,” she whispered when she saw the object that two Storm Creatures were carrying towards her. “Is that my couch?” She tried not to smile... and didn’t care when she failed. “You guys managed to smuggle my couch off the ship?”

Princess Celestia had been amicable about many things, but she had insisted on locking down the airship Tempest had used to bring Princess Twilight to the Storm King. All in all, the situation could have been worse: the Storm In Shadows was Tempest’s personal ship, meaning that her belongings were not stashed away in some fleeing renegade ship two continents away or anything. However, it was technically Storm King property and had thus been locked down until further notice, citing security concerns and the usual rules about spoils of war. Bringing some personal belongings (but no armor, weapons, or anything else that looked like it had combat applications, which ruled out depressingly much) had been permitted, but the officials had drawn the line at moving furniture. Especially when said furniture was a couch the size of a large bed. Especially when it was upholstered with dark red leather. Especially when its lower half came equipped with a dozen D-rings. Especially when the officials had already found the matching sets of shackles and collars, each attached to a thin chain. Tempest had understood not being permitted to bring the couch in, seeing how it was obviously an item used for interrogation and torture, even though she only used it to relax since it was surprisingly comfortable. She had not understood why the officials had giggled and blushed when they had discovered it, though. But who cares about some Canterlot servant - probably has never seen a proper couch or torture instrument before.

“We figured you’d miss it,” Grubber explained, politely ignoring her blissful smile. “Stroke of luck, too - the topic came up when Princess Twilight and her friends came through before going on their trip. Turns out that one of them is really good at bringing in couches from a distance.”

Tempest frowned even as Alfonz gently lowered her onto the leather. “One of her friends specializes in summoning furniture?”

“No, no, just couches. She swooned all drama-like, and bam, the couch floated in. I guess it’s her special talent or something? I dunno, didn’t really ask. Ponies and their talents and cutiemarks freak me out.” He pretended not to notice her glancing at her own scarred, blank flank.

“Yeah, it’s sad that some ponies need a picture on their butt to tell them what they’re good at,” she said airily and stretched, the leather delightfully cool against her coat. The subject of her lack of a cutie mark rarely came up, mostly due to the general lack of Equestrians in the Storm King’s army. Still, the fact that she had apparently never found her special talent had once driven her past her breaking point. Thankfully, only she and Grubber knew what had happened during her darkest hour. Everybody else had bought their cover story of a manticore somehow scarring both sides of her flank. “Me, I know what I’m good at.”

“Falling from great heights?” Grubber asked, obviously testing just how thankful she was for him saving her couch from Canterlot bureaucracy.

“Not much of a talent, is it?” She smirked, and he let out a quiet sigh of relief. “No, we both-”

The sound of somepony knocking at their door made them freeze.

“Relax, guys, I got it.” Grubber motioned them to stay put and made his way to the door. “I’m coming!” He opened it a little bit, not enough to let the pony on the other side look in. “Sorry, we’re not interested in buying your magazine or washing machines or whatever. Though if you got Filly Scout cookies, I might be willing to try some...”

“Aw man, I could totally go for some of those right now,” the stallion on the other side sighed.

Tempest winced when she recognized the voice. What’s that Wonderbolt doing here? “Grubber!” she hissed, then frantically shook her head when he glanced her way.

“We don’t have any of those, I’m afraid,” Spitfire said. Tempest wasn’t overly surprised that she was accompanying her colleague, but the question remained what they were doing here. “However, we did bring quite a few other treats! Let’s see... ohh, did you ever try Battenberg Cake? I love that stuff, though it’s hell on the figure.”

“Oh, did you ever come to the right place! Me and the guys are always happy when there’s free cake involved! Right, guys?”

There was some slightly forced cheering - everybody knew that Grubber was willing to fight any Storm Creature to the death if it meant getting more cake for himself.

“That’s great to hear, but... uh,” Soarin said, “it’s for Miss Shadow.”

“...who?” Grubber frowned. “Oh, you mean Tempest?” He froze. “Uhhh... haven’t seen her in days, unfortunately. But I can hold on to the cake... and if I see her again, I can, like, give it to her.”

“Sorry, but we’re supposed to hand it over personally,” Spitfire said. “The staff prepared these treats explicitly for her. Apparently, the news of Prince Blueblood getting decked was like some sort of early Hearth’s Warming Eve present for them, so they asked us to deliver this thank-you present. Unofficially, of course. She wasn’t in her room, so we thought she might be here. But I suppose we’ll have to take this with us again and keep looking...”

Oh, you monster, Tempest thought as Grubber’s grip on the door tightened. This is either going to end with two Wonderbolts in the hospital or with one cake addict crying his eyes out into my mane for the rest of the night.

The short hedgehog licked his lips. “I... ahhh...”

“Let them in,” she snapped and rolled her eyes.

“Shock and horror,” Soarin taunted as he strode in, “you lied to-” He stopped dead in his tracks, nearly causing Spitfire to bump into him.

“Don’t let the guys intimidate you,” Grubber said and took a large box from Spitfire’s back, “they haven’t maimed anybody in hours.”

“Uhhhuh,” Spitfire said, eyeing the assembled Storm Creatures. She didn’t sound reassured, and Tempest allowed herself a slight smile.

Soarin carefully looked around, his eyes moving from the assembled Storm Creatures to her. His expression slowly shifted from shock to amused curiosity. “...is this a harem?”

Her smile fell. “A what?” Then her brain pieced together what the scene was looking like for an outsider: her on her leather couch, surrounded by large, muscular servants. Half of her minions nodded, the others vehemently shook their heads. Tempest wasn’t sure which half actually knew what a harem was, but she had a hunch that she didn’t want to know.

“Well, I supp-”

“It’s not a harem,” Tempest quickly cut off whatever nonsense Grubber was about to say, then gave him a glare. “People who were about to sell me out for a piece of cake don’t have any say in this matter.” Grubber just shrugged and opened the box. Then he took out a large, multicolored slice of cake and stuffed it into his mouth. Tempest knew from experience that cake and the inevitable food coma afterwards would effectively prevent him from spreading terrible and wrong rumors about her alleged weakness or harem habits for the next couple of hours. It also meant that she didn’t have to confess that these two pegasi were responsible for her current situation. Plus Prince Nowings, but who cares about him?

“Of course it’s not,” Soarin said and moved further into the room, but his grin told a different story. Behind him, Spitfire just raised an eyebrow. “Ohhh, I know that couch!” He gently nudged one of the D-rings with one hoof and nodded to himself.

Has he been a prisoner of war? Tempest wasn’t sure what the Wonderbolts did exactly, but she hadn’t thought that they would carry out missions in hostile territory. “You... have been...” She gestured slowly, unsure how to broach the subject.

“Bound and whipped, yes.” Soarin did not look quite as traumatized as Tempest had expected. When he noticed his companion’s questioning look, he grinned. “You remember my recent trip to Germaneigh?”

“Yes, you couldn’t train for three days afterwards because you had been... sore...” Spitfire tilted her head and gave the couch another look. “Ohhh...”

Tempest wasn’t sure if she was following. “You were tortured in Germaneigh? I thought they are not considered a hostile nation.”

Soarin frowned, then exchanged brief looks with his friend. “You... have no idea what this couch is normally used for, do you?” He gave her a smile that was slightly too wide.

“Of course I do,” she said, trying not to raise her voice. “You can chain ponies to it with shackles and collars. And then you interrogate them, and they cannot move as they are tortured.”

His smile widened even more. “And I presume you got it from a place specializing in, ah, torture and interrogation?”

“Well... sort of...” She licked her lips, feeling uncharacteristically nervous all of a sudden. “It had allegedly been a massage parlor, but that was obviously just a front for some sort of secret police. We found this couch in a back room with various other instruments of torture. Whips... and paddles... and candles...” She gave Grubber a desperate look - why was it getting warmer all of a sudden?

“How can somepony so evil be so innocent?” Soarin asked and shot Spitfire a suggestive grin.

“I’M NOT EV-” Tempest sat up, then bit back a scream as her side exploded in pain again. Strong hands guided her back onto the couch, and she cursed under her breath.

“Right. While Soarin’s busy gloating about his kinks, why doesn’t one of your boys rub you down with this?” Spitfire retrieved a bottle from her bags and gave it to the nearest Storm Creature. “We use it to prevent worsening soreness after accidents. There’s also something against the pain mixed into it. After the beating you took today, you admittedly won’t be as good as new tomorrow, but you will at least be able to move.”

Tempest gave her a look after glancing at the bottle. “And what is really in there?”

“Oh-ho-ho!” Soarin said and nudged Spitfire’s side. “After viciously assaulting her charge, the disgraced Captain of the Wonderbolts has lost the trust of the general populace!”

“How could you put so many lies in one sentence?” Spitfire asked and rolled her eyes. “We were supposed to keep an eye on that side of the castle, so she wasn’t exactly our, much less my charge. Also, you were Captain at the time, I just got the title back because you admitted that you had screwed up today. And neither of us has been disgraced, thanks to Miss Shadow here offering to take the blame for everything. Aaand she is not the general populace!”

“So you admit that you attacked her?” Soarin asked after mentally going over the list of her corrections again.

“I’m not the one who pushed her out of that window,” she hissed and shoved her colleague. “She assaulted me, and I broke her fall. See, I care!”

“You tried to break a wall with her.”

“My sole crime is that I cared with too much enthusiasm,” Spitfire replied and gave him her best innocent look.

“Wait... hold on...” Grubber squinted at them, and Tempest groaned. “Are those two...” He started gesturing from the Wonderbolts to her, then back at them. “Those two twerps are the ones who managed to kick your flank?” The hedgehog gave them another, highly critical look. “Seriously? Them?”

“Well, there was also Prince Blueblood,” Soarin said, trying not to look hurt by Grubber’s slightly dismissive attitude towards him. “He helped by tossing a blanket over her head.”

“A blanket.” Grubber gave her a long, judging look. “He tossed. A blanket.” Then, after noticing that she was trembling with rage, he gave her a condescending pat on the side. “There, there. You’ll always have your memories of better times.”

“Guys, could you maybe stop antagonizing the lady who is trying to murder us with her mind right now?” Spitfire shifted her wings a bit, as if trying to flex them without anybody noticing.

“D’awww, it’s fine!” Grubber assured her and ruffled Tempest’s mane. “She’s still getting used to being weak after her reformation,” he casually explained to the Wonderbolts.

One of the Storm Creatures decided that, short of it being part of a ritual that would fix her horn, there was nothing that would justify ruffling Tempest’s mane and grabbed Grubber by his scruff. “My most sincere apologies; we shall have a heartfelt conversation about what is and what isn’t the appropriate way of treating you after a rough day,” he - probably - said through three short grunts and dragged the short hedgehog away. A second Storm Creature quickly picked up the cake box and followed them, knowing full well that the one thing worse than Tempest going wild was Grubber being deprived of sweets.

“Oh, okay, I think me and the boys will have cake over there, seeya!” he shouted over his shoulder, seemingly oblivious to how close he had brought himself and the Wonderbolts to crippling pain.

Tempest gave him the best glare she could - the way she was lying on the couch prevented her from giving him a proper evil eye with her scarred right side, but it wasn’t as if he was looking her way, anyway. “So,” she muttered, still glaring in Grubber’s general direction on the off chance that he was going to return, “what’s your deal?”

“Our deal?” Spitfire asked once she and Soarin had settled the issue of who was going to do the talkingthrough a series of quick looks and gestures.

“You come here with cake and medicine after we tried to kill each other. Princess Twilight showed me that you are an easily forgiving lot, but this is pushing it.”

“Well, maybe we figured that we made a bad first impression and wanted to fix that,” Spitfire replied, speaking slowly as if choosing her words with great care. She exchanged looks with Soarin. “Also, you saved our flanks in front of Princess Celestia.”

“Yeah, she looked ready to put us on sun-polishing duty.”

Spitfire raised an eyebrow. “...was that a sexual euphemism relating to her cutie mark?”

For once, Soarin looked puzzled. “Intriguing, but no. I mean the actual sun-polishing duties.” When Spitfire just gave him an incredulous look, he frowned. “You know. Sun-polishing duties.”

“The words won’t make more sense if you just keep repeating them...”

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you that...” His face fell as his brain was apparently a few steps ahead of his mouth for once. “But...” He bit his lower lip.

“Yeees?” Spitfire leaned closer, eyes wide in anticipation. “What did your parents tell you?”

He lowered his head. “They told me that-” The rest was lost as he just started to mumble.

“Oh, come on, I promise I won’t laugh.” That was a terrible lie - Spitfire was already starting to grin.

“Any chance you might decide to break my neck out of mercy?” he asked Tempest, giving her a pleading look.

“I don’t do requests, sorry.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down...” Finally, he sighed. “My parents told me that Princess Celestia regularly assigns all the colts who mas-... pleasured themselves the most to sun-polishing duties.”

Spitfire’s grin seemed to lock up at a weird angle. “That’s actually rather sad, and you have my deepest sympathies, Soarin,” she said a bit too quickly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me?” And with that, she marched to the door and closed it behind her.

“I’m lucky to have her as a friend,” Soarin remarked drily, but Tempest barely heard him over the sound of Spitfire’s hysterical laughter. “I mean, could you imagine having her as an enemy?”

“I kicked her through a window today,” Tempest replied, “so I’m amazed to still be on her good side. Friendship is weird.” Then she paused. “How long did you believe that thing about polishing the sun?” When he just sighed, she raised an eyebrow. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head this way and that. “On the bright side, I think I know what I’m going to do the next couple of nights now.”

She shrugged. “Understandable.”

He gave her a surprised look. “I kinda expected you to be a bit more grossed out than that.”

“I traveled with those guys for far too long. Trust me, I’ve seen things.” Some of the Storm Creatures nodded enthusiastically.

“Sorry, had something in my throat,” Spitfire said as she came back in. She was looking exhausted - laughing for this long had probably burnt more calories than their fight had. “Where were we?”

“We were expressing our gratitude towards Miss Shadow here,” Soarin said, carefully avoiding any mention of sun-polishing duties.

“Right! Right!” Spitfire nodded eagerly. “Yeah, we got away lightly, considering that we almost got Prince Blueblood killed.”

“Well, I don’t know.” Tempest gestured towards Soarin. “I apparently couldn’t prevent you from being demoted. Sorry to hear that. If there’s anything I can do to-”

The stallion laughed lightly. “Oh, that! Don’t worry, it’s nothing.”

“Yeah, Soarin and I trade the Captain title back and forth every couple of weeks. Usually through some sort of bet.”

“Seriously? That’s rath-... ohhh...” Tempest groaned quietly - one of the Storm Creatures had started to rub the oily medicine into her shoulders, and she relaxed and lay down on the couch.

“Yeah, I won the title last month after betting that-”

Spitfire interrupted him by coughing loudly. “Soarin, I really don’t think Tempest wants to hear that boring story,” she said, smiling a bit too widely. “She’s had a rough day and wants some rest, so we should probably leave. Now.”

“Ohhh, is it that bad?” Tempest teased her and smiled lazily. The medicine stung lightly, but it seemed to spread a warm glow straight through her coat.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Soarin was giving her a toothy grin. “It was-”

“Don’t you have a sun to polish or something?”

“Hey, I refuse to be the only one to be embarrassed today!”

Spitfire huffed, but Tempest could tell that they were just teasing each other. “Fine. Jerk.”

“Right then. As I was saying...”

“Good thing that you didn’t injure yourself,” Celestia said and pretended to enjoy her meal. It was a very good salad, but the ruler of the day was obviously distracted.

“Yes, the nurse gave me something against the swelling.” Blueblood smiled and poked and prodded his own meal. He was hungry - apparently, the shock of almost hitting the ground at terminal velocity burnt quite a few calories? - but his mind was also elsewhere. Something is wrong, he thought and almost laughed at his own understatement. His aide had done some research while he had been in the infirmary, and a lot had happened during his vacation, even by Canterlot’s high standards: there had been an invasion, three alicorns (and some pegasus from Ponyville, not that he cared) had been turned to stone, the populace had been put under arrest and of course there had been a cataclysmic showdown right here in the palace. And then, oh wonder of wonders, Tempest Shadow was on our side and saved the day. How very fortunate. Right, this doesn’t smell like a long-shot plot to finish what this Storm King started at all. She just happened to be good all along. Ha! He scowled at his salad before giving his aunt (several generations removed, as nopony ever forgot to point out) a carefully neutral look. “So,” he finally decided to broach the subject that was on his mind, “about Miss Shadow...”

Celestia gave him a slight smile. “Yes?”

He paused, suddenly unsure what to ask first. There is so much wrong here that I don’t even know where to start! How about Latmareia, a country that DOESN’T EVEN EXIST? I mean, sure, sure, it may exist; after all, it’s not like the universe stenciled a compass rose on my flank and OH WAIT IT DID AND I KNOW THE NAME OF EVERY COUNTRY THERE IS BY HEART. He huffed and stabbed his salad with his tiny fork. Or how about the fact that ambassadors don’t stay in the castle’s VIP suites? They have houses in the diplomatic district! Why, it’s almost as if she wasn’t actually an ambassador after all! How strange!

“You were saying...?” Celestia asked slowly and blinked, smile still plastered on her face.

So what does that tell us? Well, either every single pony involved in inviting Tempest Shadow into the castle lost eighty IQ points since my departure... or... He frowned deeply. Or they are being manipulated. Magically, maybe? Mind control? No, that sounds far-fetched; it’s hopefully hard to successfully cast such a spell on Celestia, and Tempest Shadow’s horn is broken, so she at least couldn’t have done it. So... maybe she is just lying? But that has to be a highly elaborate lie if it fooled Celestia. A master spy, probably. An evil master spy. I won’t have any luck just pointing out the inconsistencies - she’ll probably have some sort of explanation, and I have only my gut feeling as evidence. Not even to mention that doing so would tell her that I know of her plan to conquer Equestria, and then I’d have some sort of terrible, highly convenient accident with no witnesses.

“Yeees?” Celestia shot her sister a brief look when she got no reply, but Luna just shrugged. The ruler of the night had apparently decided early on that interacting with Blueblood was not really her thing.

No... I need more. A confession. He nodded to himself. A confession that she’s not actually an ambassador. The moment I got this, I can have her tossed in a jail cell at least for posing as a diplomat, and we can get the rest through interrogation. But... how do I get her to confess in the first place? She needs to trust me. That should be doable. Although the question is how much time I have. She surely has a plan, and this is likely just phase one of it. I need to act more directly. Use the skills I have at my disposal. A smile appeared on his face as he started to develop a daring plan. “I was wondering whether she is more into flowers or candy,” he finally said, his smile widening.

“Tempest? Flowers? Candy?” Judging by the overall lack of verbs, the oldest alicorn in the kingdom was at a loss for words. “You... what?”

“I would like to ask her out on a date, auntie.” The smile turned into a predatory grin. “I believe I’m in love.”

Author's Notes:

Soarin and Spitfire playfully competing for the Captain title is one of my older headcanons, dating back to before we saw more of the Wonderbolts.The name "Alfonz" is a nod to a very good friend who would ALWAYS suggest this when I asked him to come up with a name, regardless of setting.Tempest's cutie mark scars were introduced after Earthsong's cover art stream - I liked her suggestion and the resulting looks, and while I won't copy her headcanon, those scars are self-inflicted.Blueblood apparently was one of the few ponies who didn't make an appearance in The Movie, which somehow amuses me to no end. (If I just missed his cameo... er... pretend that he wasn't there, anyway. XD)Doctor Doom and the Fantastic Four belong to Marvel Comics.