And then, just like that, exams were over.
It was almost hard to believe; Adagio Dazzle had spent the past two weeks preparing for them and the past five days living them. She’d awoken every morning in a panic that she’d overslept and missed one, and every night she’d checked her phone over and over again to ensure her alarm was set before lying in bed, dreading the next one and desperately wishing for sleep to take her just to start the whole process over again.
But now they were over and Adagio felt… exhausted? Elated? Giddy? Terrified? Her exact mood seemed to change by the minute but the most consistent feeling seemed to be relief. It was Friday—only hours after her final exam and still much too early to have any results back—and despite the fact that part of her wanted nothing more than to head back to her room and sleep until Monday, Adagio found herself on an unfamiliar bus on the way to Twilight Sparkle’s house.
The bus itself was actually very similar to the one Adagio took to the Canterlot Public Library—so similar, in fact, that if Adagio hadn’t triple checked the route number, she might be worried that she was going the wrong way.
Okay, so she was a little worried about getting off at the wrong stop, but that in itself was only stressing her out more. She’d been on a bus plenty of times—not this bus, said the nagging voice in the back of her mind—and had been in plenty of seedier places than Twilight Sparkle’s neighbourhood, which could only have been more idyllic if there had been a waterfall installed. But back then she’d at least had the tiny shreds of magic that she’d brought to this world and, more importantly, she hadn’t been alone.
Adagio scowled at her reflection in the window. If there was one good thing about the last week, it was that she’d been too preoccupied with exams to think too much about Aria. Adagio still hadn’t spoken to her since the morning of their confrontation, and although Sonata had twice come to her during the week to try to get the two girls to talk to one another (or even get them in the same room), both times Adagio had blown her off. She hadn’t had the time nor the energy to deal with them then, and now that she was free, she was instead going to see Twilight Sparkle.
No, thought Adagio. She wasn’t going to beat herself up over not forcing herself to interact with her fellow Sirens today. Didn’t she deserve the opportunity to go out and do something she actually wanted to do, rather than trying to cow Aria back into submission? Had she not earned a break?
Apparently not, as it was about that time that Adagio realized she’d missed her stop.
Cursing herself (but mostly Aria and Sonata for daring to linger in her thoughts), Adagio hauled frantically on the yellow cord, waiting impatiently as the bus continued for another block or two before lazily rolling up to the next stop. Adagio practically leapt from her seat, glaring at the baffled driver as she stormed past him and out the door.
Checking the directions on her phone, Adagio found that she now faced a fifteen minute walk to Twilight’s house, instead of the six or seven minutes it would have taken if she had actually bothered to pay attention. Not terrible, but it certainly didn’t help lift Adagio’s deteriorating spirits.
She waited for the bus to pull away before beginning her trek to Twilight’s house. Rationally, she knew that neither the driver nor any of the other passengers knew her destination, but waiting until all potential eyes were off her before walking in the exact opposite direction than the bus was going did a little to protect her already wounded pride.
She moved at a brisk pace, eyeing the grey clouds that hung ominously overhead with suspicion. She’d overheard someone on the bus saying that it wasn’t actually supposed to rain until the next day but, unlike in Equestria, forecasts in this world were notoriously unreliable, and so she prepared herself to run at the first sign of rain.
But she never had to. A quarter of an hour later Adagio arrived at the Sparkle residence dry and otherwise unmolested. The house itself was no different than the last time she saw it, only this time she recognized both cars in the driveway: one of which belonged (unsurprisingly) to Shining Armor, and the other which belonged to Dean Cadance.
So, Cadance was there. That was fine. Adagio was pretty sure Twilight had mentioned something about it just being the two of them, but this was good, too.
Adagio was just a few steps away from the door when she stopped. She felt a strange sensation—a mixture of relief and disappointment that, until that moment, she hadn’t know was even possible. What was wrong with her? Adagio liked Cadance. Adagio liked Twilight. Cadance and Twilight were in the same place, and as such, Adagio should be happy. And she was happy! And yet…
She shook her head. The longer she stood out here like an idiot trying to parse her feelings, the more likely it was that someone would glance out a window and spot her. So, ignoring her new feelings in the hope that they would go away, Adagio pushed on, closing the last few feet between her and the door and ringing the doorbell before her mind came up with another reason not to.
“I’ve got it!”
Adagio heard the muffled sound of Twilight’s voice, followed by a cacophony of rapid footsteps. The door swung open, revealing the smiling (and slightly winded) form of Twilight Sparkle. Adagio was just opening her mouth to greet her, when a blur of purple and green darted between Twilight’s legs and threw itself against Adagio’s legs.
“Hi, Adagio!”
Spike stood on his hind legs with his front paws braced against Adagio’s knees, beaming up at Adagio as his tail wagged happily behind him.
“Spike! What did I say about jumping up on people?” She gave spike a chastising look, before turning back to Adagio. “Sorry about that,” she said, sheepishly.
“It’s fine,” said Adagio, and for a few long seconds no more words passed between the two girls.
“So… are you going to invite me in?”
“Right—yes, obviously!” Twilight stepped aside, waving her arm in a welcoming motion and turning her head in an obvious (and unsuccessful) attempt to hide her embarrassment. “Er, come on in!”
Adagio couldn’t help but smile and roll her eyes, before following Twilight inside.
“Adagio!”
Cadance and Shining Armor stood a little ways down the hall, and to Adagio’s surprise they were both extravagantly dressed. Shining Armor wore a suit that was fitted too well to not be tailored, and Cadance was wearing a formal yet still stylish dress.
“Hi Cadance, Shining Armor,” said Adagio. “You two look...”
Cadance put her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes but retaining her playful smile. “Choose your next words wisely.”
“I was going to say ‘good.’”
Cadance nodded in approval. “Right answer. Shining Armor and I are going out to dinner to celebrate the end of exams.”
Adagio cocked an eyebrow. “Why are you celebrating? You didn’t even have to write them.”
Twilight and Shining Armor let out simultaneous groans as Cadance launched into a well rehearsed response.
“I’ll have you know that exam season puts stress not only on students, but on educators as well. People don’t appreciate the amount of work that goes into executing a weeks worth of tests for multiple subjects and grade levels. Furthermore—”
“Okay, okay!” said Adagio, holding up her hands. “I get it!”
Cadance wore a triumphant smirk, and Twilight and Shining Armor shared looks of relief.
“Anyway, speaking of exams...” Cadance trailed off, giving Adagio a probing look.
“No,” said Adagio.
“Come on,” insisted Cadance, “please?”
Adagio sighed. “Do I have to?”
“No, but if you don’t tell me how you did I’m just going to get it out of Twilight later.”
Both of them turned their attention on Twilight, who suddenly looked like a deer in the headlights.
“W-what?” she stammered.
“Please, are you telling me you didn’t make her text you the moment she finished her exams?”
“I...” Twilight looked desperately at Adagio. “I wouldn’t—I mean—not if you didn’t want me to...”
Another sigh. As much as Adagio did not want to talk about her exams, not talking about them was quickly becoming more tedious than just getting it over with. Besides, while she had faith that Twilight wouldn’t immediately cave to Cadance’s interrogation, she was also fairly confident that keeping that information from her might cause Twilight to quite literally explode.
“Fine,” said Adagio. “They were… fine. Good, I guess, I don’t know. I haven’t exactly taken a lot of exams.”
The last part had just slipped out, but if Cadance had picked up on what Adagio had accidentally alluded to, she didn’t show it.
“Good! I’m sure you did great—you’re smart, and Twilight’s been raving about you for weeks, so—”
“Cadance!” whined Twilight, whose cheeks had taken on a shade of pink that matched Cadance’s hair.
“Honey,” said Shining armor, nudging Cadance with his elbow. “Our reservation?”
“Right, right,” said Cadance. The two pairs traded places in the hallway, with Adagio and Twilight venturing further into the house and Cadance and Shining Armor moving to the door.
“Alright, you two,” said Shining Armor as he pulled on his jacket. “Be good, and if anything happens, text me, okay?”
“We’re not kids, Shiney,” said Twilight. She shared a hug with her brother and then with Cadance, before the sound of a car horn blared outside.
“There’s our cab,” said Cadance. She grabbed her purse and the two of them shuffled out the front door. “Have fun, girls!”
“We will!” called Twilight, waving and closing the door after them, before turning around and facing Adagio, who had been lingering in the hall. For a moment, neither of them said anything.
“Hi,” said Twilight, breaking the silence.
Adagio smiled. “Hi.”
“I suppose I should probably show you around, huh?”
Adagio had never been in a house quite like Twilight Sparkle’s.
This on its own wasn’t saying much—Adagio had been in very few actual houses, having lived primarily in dorms, hotels, and apartments since her arrival in this world—but even compared to Pinkie Pie’s house, something felt… different. The walls were lined with pictures, most of them proudly displaying the smiling faces of Twilight, Shining Armor, and an older couple that Adagio quickly deduced to be Twilight’s parents. There were even more than a few pictures of Cadance back from when she and Shining Armor had attended Crystal Prep, and of Twilight when she was just a baby.
But it wasn’t just the pictures. Shelves were packed with assorted knick knacks, souvenirs from exotic locales, gadgets whose purpose Adagio couldn’t begin to fathom, and a plethora of trophies dedicated to everything from academic excellence (which undoubtedly belonged to Twilight), physical prowess (Shining Armor) and, of all things, bingo. The house was so filled with things that, despite its large size, it felt very full and lived in—not at all like the vacant apartments to which Adagio was accustomed.
It was like stepping into another world (an experience Adagio was somewhat familiar with), and made Adagio question just how much she truly knew about Twilight Sparkle. She felt like an intruder creeping around somewhere they didn’t belong and yet, at the same time, it had been Twilight that had invited her here. Clearly Twilight wanted to share this part of her life with her, but what exactly did that mean? And, perhaps more importantly, why?
There wasn’t a lot of time to ponder these questions before Twilight concluded their tour.
“...and here we are, back in the kitchen. Sorry about not showing you my room, like I said, it’s kind of a mess.”
Adagio shrugged. Although she was unusually tempted to take a peek into that particular aspect of Twilight’s life, she hadn’t pressed the issue.
“Anyway,” continued Twilight, “I was thinking about ordering a pizza, and after that we could watch a movie or something. Does that sound alright to you?”
Adagio nodded.
Twilight bit her lip, a look of poorly disguised concern crossing her face. She fumbled with the hem of her skirt for a moment, before collecting herself.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
Adagio, who had been about to ask the same question, was taken aback. “What?”
“You were being quiet!” blurted Twilight. “I mean, you’re allowed to be quiet—it’s not like there’s a rule saying you have to talk or anything—I just wanted to make sure I didn’t say anything, you know, weird.” She paused. “Was that weird?”
“Yes,” admitted Adagio, “but in a good way.”
“A good way?” asked Twilight.
“Yeah,” said Adagio.
“So you’re okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“Okay!” Twilight clapped her hands together. “I’m going to go get my laptop so we can order that pizza. You can take a seat over at the table, if you’d like.”
With that, Twilight darted off into the hall, leaving Adagio alone in the kitchen. She made her way over to the table, only to be confronted by yet another picture hanging on the wall. This time it was of Twilight’s parents engaged in an activity Adagio knew to be called ‘skydiving,’ although why anyone without the ability to fly would willingly hurl themselves from a great height continued to baffle her.
“Got it!”
Twilight sat down across from Adagio and opened up the laptop. It reminded Adagio of their study sessions, although the table was larger and not covered in books, and the room itself was much more spacious.
“Twilight Sparkle,” asked Adagio, the thought of the picture still on her mind, “where are your parents?”
Twilight’s eyes looked up from the screen. “My mom dragged my dad on another trip down south, this time I think it was to go scuba diving with sharks, or something. They love doing that sort of thing, especially now that Shiney and I are old enough that they don’t have to hire a babysitter or call our grandparents.” Twilight thought for a moment, then her face grew pale. “Why, you weren’t expecting to meet them, were you?”
“No, I was just—”
“Because I can call them if you want, I don’t think it’s too late down there—”
“Twilight Sparkle!” Adagio’s firm tone managed to shock Twilight out of her jabbering. “Are you okay?”
Twilight looked thoughtful for a moment before lowering her face into one of her hands and beginning to laugh. “Sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m just a little nervous.”
Adagio smirked. “Yes, it must be quite nerve wracking to have Adagio Dazzle all to yourself.”
“It is!”
“I was joking.”
“I wasn’t. It’s a big deal having someone over for the first time!” She gave Adagio an earnest smile. “Especially when it’s you.”
Now it was Adagio’s turn to blush. She averted her gaze, fixing her eyes on a particularly uninteresting section of the wall. “We see each other practically every day.”
“Not this week,” countered Twilight. She was correct, of course. Adagio hadn’t seen Twilight since their Sunday study session, and although they’d texted and spoken on the phone, that wasn’t the same as actually being in the same room. It was difficult to admit (even just to herself), but Adagio had missed her time with Twilight.
“Okay, not this week,” conceded Adagio. “But you don’t have to try so hard. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re right,” said Twilight, “and thanks.”
The rapid-fire sound of Twilight’s fingers on her keyboard filled the room. There was something oddly relaxing about the rhythmic nature of the keystrokes, and Adagio found herself having to consciously keep her eyelids from drooping.
“Anything in particular you want on the pizza?”
“Doesn’t matter to me.”
“Anything you don’t want?”
Adagio shook her head.
“Okay,” said Twilight. A few more taps on the keyboard later, Twilight closed the laptop and focused her attention on Adagio. “I ordered a vegetarian pizza. It’s what the girls and I usually order, because Sunset and Fluttershy don’t eat meat. Do you, um…?”
“...Eat meat?”
Twilight nodded.
“I do. It was no less strange to me than eating any other food in this world, and to be honest it’s probably closer to my Equestrian diet, anyway.”
Across the table, Twilight wore an expression of rapt attention, and immediately Adagio understood why.
“Twilight Sparkle, it is rude to study your guests.”
“Sorry!” squeaked Twilight, sinking down into her chair. “I just find it interesting that you identify with carnivores, when feeding on conflict seems almost more parasitic in nature and—”
“Did you just refer to me as a parasite?” asked Adagio in an icy tone.
Twilight froze. “I, uh...” She glanced around nervously, all the while tugging at her collar. “Wow, that pizza sure is taking a while, right?”
Adagio folded her arms.
“Right?” Twilight Sparkle put on a big, forced grin, which somehow managed to come across as both incredibly desperate and hopelessly endearing in the dorky way that only Twilight could pull off.
Unable to stay mad (though she was never really mad in the first place), Adagio rewarded Twilight’s efforts with a smile of her own.
“So, at the risk of falling into another social pitfall, how do you feel now that exams are over and done with?”
Adagio considered this for a moment. “The closest thing I can relate it to is how I felt after I was blasted with Friendship Magic, but before I realized my life fell apart.”
Twilight gave her a blank look.
“In human terms I’d liken it to being hit by a big, glowing truck.”
“Thanks,” said Twilight, flatly. “But really, that’s it?”
“Of course not,” said Adagio. “I’m glad they’re over, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to relax until I get the results back. Right now I just sort of feel...” She took another look at the skydiving photo. “...powerless. I don’t like it.”
With her attention averted, Adagio didn’t notice Twilight reach her hand across the table until it was already intertwined with her own. With her arms crossed she could have easily resisted the gesture, but instead she allowed Twilight to pull her hand free and guide it to the center of the table where the two remained interlaced.
Adagio had missed this most of all. There was just something about Twilight’s touch—about her lithe, delicate fingers, warm and soft… it just filled her with the primal and inexplicable desire to hold them and not to let go. Was this just another part of being human? A symptom of the friendship that she had unwittingly contracted? Or was it something else, something that Adagio felt but was not quite ready to name?
It didn’t matter. Wordlessly, Twilight Sparkle had taken the worries that still weighed heavily on Adagio’s mind and banished them to its recesses. She could have stayed in that comfortable silence for hours, but it was not to be. The end was heralded by the ringing of a bell.
A doorbell, to be precise.
“That’s the pizza,” said Twilight. Gently, and with great reluctance, she withdrew her hand from Adagio’s and stood up, before disappearing once more into the hallway.
Adagio felt somewhat disgruntled at the inopportune arrival of the delivery person, but this lasted only until Twilight returned to the kitchen, pizza boxes in hand, and the greasy yet tantalizing aroma of her cargo reached Adagio’s nose, at which point she realized she was famished.
When was the last time she’d eaten an actual meal? She couldn’t recall. Adagio didn’t eat much at the best of times, and the week of exams had only exacerbated this habit. But that was all about to change: Adagio was ready to eat one, perhaps even two slices of pizza.
And so she did. The pizza itself was fairly unremarkable, but Adagio was too hungry to care. While they ate, Twilight broached the subject of what movie they would watch that evening and, upon learning that the list of movies Adagio had seen was next to nonexistent, the girl had become giddy trying to decide which cinema classic to show her first.
Her excitement was impossibly cute, but Adagio struggled to keep up with her enthusiasm. It wasn’t that Adagio didn’t care what movie they watched (okay, it wasn’t just that), it was more like she had just ticked a box labeled ‘eat’ on some internal checklist, and next up was one labeled ‘sleep.’ But Adagio had no intention of disappointing Twilight Sparkle by going home early—she had gone a whole week on minimal food, how hard could it be to go another couple hours without sleep?
After they’d finished their food and Twilight had finally settled on a movie, the pair migrated to Twilight’s living room. The television was large—not the largest Adagio had ever seen, but close—and was mounted to the wall across from a large, L-shaped sofa that took up a significant portion of the room. Twilight sat down first, patting the spot next to her which Adagio wasted no time filling.
“Oh, this is so wrong!”
Twilight gave her a baffled look. “I’m sorry?”
“You should be,” pouted Adagio. “Your couch is more comfortable than my bed.”
It was true. Until that moment, Adagio hadn’t had any complaints about her bed in the Crystal Prep dormitory, but now…
Twilight laughed. “If you like that, you should try my bed. Not trying to brag, but it’s the best.”
“Twilight Sparkle, did you just invite me into your bed?” asked Adagio with a coy, teasing smile.
“I didn’t—I was just—oh, would you look at that, the movie’s starting!”
The opening credits had just begun when another wave of exhaustion struck Adagio. It didn’t really matter what studio produced the movie, did it? Surely Twilight wouldn’t mind if she rested her eyes, just for a minute before the movie actually started, then she’d have the energy to get through the rest of the movie.
Just one minute, thought Adagio. It was the last thing that crossed her mind as she closed her eyes.
Adagio awoke to darkness.
Her mind kicked into gear with agonizing slowness, and she began to piece together where she was and what she was doing there. She could see a lonely red light staring at her from the base of the television, it was the only source of light in the room and not nearly enough to allow Adagio to pick anything else out of the inky blackness that surrounded her.
But where her vision failed her, her other senses did not. Her position had shifted in her sleep, no longer was she sitting upright, but lying horizontally across the couch. Her head rested on what could only be Twilight’s lap, as she could feel the heat coming off of her and hear the steady sound of her breathing. One of Twilight’s hands rested on Adago’s side, her thumb drifting back and forth in a motion that brought tingles to her spine. Obviously she had fallen asleep on Twilight, and though her sleep addled mind urged her to close her eyes and drift off once more within Twilight’s half embrace, she instead forced herself to sit up.
“Hi,” said Twilight, removing her hand from Adagio’s side and slightly adjusting her position.
“Hi,” replied Adagio, finding herself once more in a sitting position. “Guess I fell asleep, huh?”
“Yeah,” said Twilight.
“Sorry about that.” Adagio fumbled around in her pockets until she managed to locate her phone. The light from its screen was blinding, and she was forced to squint before she was finally able to check the time.
It was late. Very late.
Adagio groaned and rubbed her eyes, but her mind still felt sluggish and hazy. Next to her, Twilight reached over the edge of the seat and turned on a lamp, illuminating the room with a warm light. Adagio stood up, wobbled a little, and held out her arms to steady herself.
“Easy there,” said Twilight, rising and placing a steadying hand on Adagio’s shoulder. “You were really out.”
“Sorry,” repeated Adagio.
“Don’t be. You more than earned that nap.”
Now that her eyes had more or less adjusted to the light, Adagio checked her phone to see if any of the busses that could bring her back to Crystal Prep were still running.
“No such luck,” she muttered. “Guess I’m walking back.”
Twilight’s grip on her shoulder tightened. “Adagio, it would take over an hour for you to walk back to Crystal Prep from here. Besides, it’s past midnight and I don’t like the idea of you walking alone in the dark.”
Adagio didn’t like it either, but there didn’t seem to be another option. She didn’t have enough money on her to afford a cab (or at all, if she was being honest), and Principal Cinch would probably have something to say if she got a complaint that one of her students bailed on paying their fare.
“Well, unless you have a better suggestion...”
“Actually, since you’re already here...” Twilight shifted her weight nervously. “...I was thinking maybe you could, you know, stay.”
Adagio blinked.
“I mean, it’s not like it’s without precedent! We both stayed over at Pinkie Pie’s, though, admittedly that was sort of impromptu, but this is also kind of impromptu in a more premeditated sort of way—not to imply that I planned it out in advance! I just mean that since we’re discussing it now instead of just falling asleep—although, you did just fall asleep, but I don’t think that’s...”
“Okay,” said Adagio.
“O-okay?” asked Twilight. “‘Okay’ you’ll stay? Or ‘okay’—”
“I’ll stay.”
The words had just come out. She didn’t think about them because she didn’t need to. This was what she wanted, and though a million dissenting voices cried out in her brain in desperate attempts to change her mind, she ignored them. She wanted to stay.
“Yes!” exclaimed Twilight. Her expression quickly morphed from excitement to embarrassment under Adagio’s gaze then, after the passing of a few more seconds, to horror.
“I need to clean my room,” she said in barely more than a whisper.
“What was that?”
“Nothing!” squeaked Twilight. “I’ll be right back, just give me, like, five minutes. Don’t fall asleep!”
With that, Twilight vanished into the hallway, once again leaving Adagio alone with her thoughts.
There was nothing wrong with staying over at Twilight’s. Sure, last time she and Twilight had shared a room it had been at the cost of Twilight’s relationship with Timber and Adagio’s… association with Aria, but that didn’t mean there was anything to worry about! Besides, this time was different, there was no party going on outside and no one to snap an out of context photo of them while they slept. They were completely and totally alone.
“So, you’re staying over, huh?”
The sound of Spike’s voice behind her nearly made Adagio jump out of her skin. She whirled around to face him, placing her hands sternly on her hips.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t,” said Adagio. She wasn’t frightened, just surprised. Of course they weren’t alone, Spike was there! He’d been there at Pinkie Pie’s, too, Adagio reminded herself, though she wasn’t really sure why she felt the need to justify any of this to herself. She also wasn’t sure why the strange feeling of relief-disappointment had suddenly made its return, although she did her best to dismiss it.
“And yeah, I am staying over.”
“Interesting,” said Spike.
Adagio raised a suspicious eyebrow at him. “Why is that interesting?”
“Oh, did I say interesting? I meant not interesting, you know, because Twilight has sleepovers all the time.”
“Does she now?” asked Adagio.
“Oh yeah,” said Spike, his tone laced with an infuriating smugness. “I mean, sure, usually she has a few of her friends over, and usually either her parents or brother are here, but that doesn’t make this unusual.”
“That is literally the definition of unusual.”
“Huh, so it is.”
Adagio’s eyes narrowed. She wasn’t sure what game Spike was playing, but she didn’t like it. “What are you implying?”
“Nothing,” said Spike, “just making small talk. What about you, do you have a lot of sleepovers?”
“I live in a dorm with my roommate,” said Adagio.
Not only did she live in a dorm with Sugarcoat, before that she’d spent almost every moment in the presence of the other Sirens. She’d shared a bed with them plenty of times (though admittedly she had sometimes made one or both of them sleep on the floor), so there was nothing at all strange or out of the ordinary about staying here with Twilight.
Nothing at all.
It was just a completely ordinary thing that people did, so if the butterflies that now inhabited her stomach could kindly go back to wherever they’d come from, that would be great.
Before Spike had the opportunity to say anything further, Twilight returned to the living room.
“Okay, I cleaned up, but if you could avoid looking under the bed, that would be—” she cut herself off when she noticed that Spike and Adagio had been conversing. “What were you two talking about?”
“Nothing,” said Spike, in the same smarmy tone he’d taken with Adagio.
“Adagio?”
“Actually nothing,” said Adagio. “I don’t know why your dog is talking like that.”
“Spike!” hissed Twilight, shooting him a desperate look.
“What?” said Spike. “We were just talking about sleepovers. I didn’t say anything about—”
“Okay, my room, let’s go!”
Twilight lead the way to her room, practically frog marching Adagio down the hallway until they reached the door. She placed her hand on the knob, hesitated for a moment, and opened it.
The room was like nothing Adagio had ever seen before. It was large, over twice as big as Adagio’s dorm room, and every inch of it screamed Twilight Sparkle. On one end was a set of shelves that were absolutely packed with books, and between them sat a little nook with a telescope pointed out a window at the night sky. There was an aquarium (Adagio wondered if Twilight’s fish could talk, too), a computer with two monitors, yet another bookshelf, and so many more awards and trophies that Adagio realized those in the hall must have been surplus.
On the other side of the room there was a set of equipment that Adagio recognized from her own lab at Crystal Prep, more books, a full length mirror, and a large bean bag chair that looked both incredibly comfortable and horrendously difficult to escape from. Posters and photographs plastered the walls, in some places even making it onto the ceiling which was sloped upwards and painted with a series of large, branching spirals.
Twilight’s bed dominated the center of the room, and though she had clearly done an immaculate job ensuring that the duvet and matching pillows looked impeccable, Adagio couldn’t help but notice a sleeve from what must have been laundry sticking out from beneath it. There was a dresser beside the bed and at its foot was an elevated spot with a dog bed for spike. Overhead loomed an impressive (though inaccurate) model of the solar system featuring dangling stars and planets all circling a bulbous sun. Finally, behind the bed, was a circular window whose glass was stained with the shape of a flower. It was difficult to see at night, but Adagio was certain that, come the morning, it would look spectacular.
“So, what do you think?”
Adagio realized her mouth had fallen agape and quickly snapped it shut. She cleared her throat.
“It beats my dorm, that’s for sure.”
Twilight smiled. “I’m going to go brush my teeth. You can grab a pair of pajamas from the dresser, if you want. Top drawer.”
Though Adagio typically slept in just a t-shirt, the thought of doing so in front of Twilight made her extremely self conscious, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. As a Siren in Equestria, the very idea of clothes was absurd, but in this world she couldn’t imagine being seen without them.
No, that wasn’t it. It wasn’t that she couldn’t imagine it, it was that imagining it made her want to curl up into a ball and die.
Perhaps banishment had cursed her with modesty, or perhaps it was human society rubbing off on her, but whatever the case, Adagio was eager to take Twilight up on her offer. She approached the dresser, and true to Twilight’s word, several pairs of pajamas sat neatly folded inside. She grabbed one at random, a blue pair decorated with Twilight’s signature starburst, and closed the drawer, before the items sitting on top of the dresser caught her eye.
In addition to a rather mundane lamp, there were a pair of closed boxes. Perhaps it was her exhaustion allowing curiosity to overcome her better judgement, but Adagio felt the irresistable urge to peek inside. She could hear the sound of running water from down the hall, and a quick glance around the room confirmed that Spike was out of her line of sight. Twilight Sparkle had only told her not to look under the bed, so even if she was caught, she wasn’t really doing anything wrong, was she?
Of course she was, but she didn’t care. The first box was ornately shaped and had a hinge on the back, which Adagio predicted would be a jewelry box. Opening it proved this theory to be correct, and Adagio was greeted with the sight of a small assortment of necklaces, earrings, and hair pins, most of which she’d never seen her wear. Did Twilight Sparkle even have her ears pierced? Adagio made a mental note to check as she closed the first box and moved on to the second.
This box was more traditional, rectangular in shape and opening from the top. Adagio reasoned with herself that there was unlikely to be anything scandalous sitting in a box on Twilight Sparkle’s bedside, but she’d already started snooping so she might as well see her little crime through to the end. Popping the box open, Adagio discovered that it only contained a single object. It was circular, about the size of two of her fists held together, and had a reflective surface with lines radiating out from its center and a purple trim. One side had a clasp like a locket, and the other had a hinge and a little loop where one could, theoretically, attach a string.
Adagio froze. Her heart skipped a beat and, for a moment, she honestly believed she’d died and this was all some sort of deathbed hallucination. She’d seen an object like this before—not physically of course, but given the amount of studying she’d done of the notes in Twilight’s lab, it was impossible not to recognize the final product from the sketches and blueprints. She reached into the box, her hand trembling, and withdrew it.
Twilight Sparkle’s amulet—the key to getting back her magic—was in her hands.
Part of her wanted to laugh, while another part wanted to throw up. She’d spent weeks trying desperately to avoid getting kicked out of Crystal Prep for a mere chance of recreating it, when it had been here all along! Visions of greatness danced through her head, the look on Aria’s face when she saw it, the look on Principal Cinch’s face when she took her revenge…
“Oh, you found it.”
Adagio whirled around. She’d been so caught up with her imagination that she hadn’t noticed Twilight’s return. She felt like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar (or a criminal holding a stolen gun), and though she should have come up with some sort of lie or excuse, her mind could only form a single word.
“How?”
Twilight looked at her with confusion. “What do you mean?”
“How… is this here? I thought it was destroyed!”
Adagio felt a surge of panic. It hadn’t been Twilight who’d told her the device was destroyed, it had been Cinch. Suddenly it all felt like a tangled web of information: the words of Twilight, Cinch, and Sugarcoat all melding together. What was Adagio supposed to know about? What was she going to do if Twilight saw through her now?
But her worrying was for not. If Twilight had noticed the slip (or if there was a slip at all) she didn’t show it. Instead, she reached out and gently placed her hands on the amulet, taking it from Adagio’s hands into her own.
It took every ounce of strength Adagio had not to rip it out of her hands.
“It wasn’t destroyed. Broken, yes, but not beyond repair.” Twilight stared at her reflection in the amulet’s surface. “So I fixed it.”
It was Adagio’s turn to be confused. “Why?”
“It was the pinnacle of my research. I poured uncountable hours into theorizing and designing it. It was my magnum opus.” She sighed. “And my greatest failure. I almost lost everything because of this—because I let my ambition get the better of me. When I look at it, I think about all the destruction I could have caused, all the lives I could have ruined, and how unhappy I was… and how much I’ve changed.”
“But if it’s so dangerous, why keep it?”
Twilight looked from the amulet back to Adagio. “Because it doesn’t work.”
Adagio felt like she’d been punched in the gut. “What do you mean?” she asked, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt. “I thought you said you fixed it?”
“I did,” said Twilight, “mostly.” She opened the clasp at the bottom of the amulet, which sprung open revealing the interior where magic would have been stored. She wedged one of her fingernails into a divot and pried open a panel, revealing the device’s inner workings.
“Most of the hardware is just mundane circuitry, but in order to locate and attract magic, there was something missing—something I couldn’t find in this world.” She held up the amulet, allowing Adagio to see inside. Nestled deep within, held in place by dozens of tiny electrodes, was the broken shard of a gemstone.
A very familiar gemstone.
Adagio’s jaw dropped. “That’s—”
Twilight nodded. “I didn’t know where they came from at the time, and to be honest I didn’t care. Of all the shards I was able to recover after Canterlot High’s Battle of the Bands, this was the only one that worked. The others were too small and simply burned out… and in the end this one did, too.”
The shard, once red and translucent, was now blackened and cracked. This was worse than when it was simply broken: the magic had been sucked out of the shard until naught but a husk remained. It made Adagio sick to look at and and was quick to avert her eyes.
“Sorry,” said Twilight, snapping the amulet shut. “That was the last piece. Even if I wanted to fix it completely, I couldn’t—no one could. Now it’s just a memento, a reminder of the day my whole world changed.”
Adagio didn’t say anything. She touched her hand to her neckline where, beneath the fabric of her hoodie and attached to a little chain Sugarcoat had give her, rested the real last shard of the Siren’s amulets. Like Twilight, she had held on to it as a reminder of what she’d lost, but now…
“I should have told you this before,” said Twilight. “I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up—’hey, my broken-magic-amulet used to be powered by a piece of your broken-magic-amulet.’ It’s just not something that comes up in conversation. But when I met you and I found out what you were, it felt like there was… I don’t know, a connection between us. Like we were supposed to meet, bound together by magic itself.”
She cleared her throat. “Sorry, I know that sounds stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” said Adagio. What was it, if not fate? Since they first met, Adagio had always felt drawn to Twilight. She wasn’t sure why at first, and recently she’d thought that maybe… well, it didn’t matter. What if this was the answer to everything? The universe had brought her to Twilight, pulled her in close enough that Adagio could embrace her true destiny, if only she had the conviction to take it. This was it!
“Thanks,” said Twilight. “Anyway, there’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom, I put it next to the sink.” She stepped past Adagio, returning the amulet to its place in the box, and closed the lid.
Adagio felt like she was moving on autopilot. She made her way to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her before turning on the tap. But she didn’t pick up the toothbrush, instead she stared into the mirror behind the sink, transfixed by her own reflection.
She was so close. She could take the amulet, steal away while Twilight slept and replace the shard within with the one around her neck. From there it would be easy, and yet…
Adagio shook her head. She was being stupid—this might not have been the plan, but why did that matter? Why, standing on the precipice of her return to glory, was she so afraid?
The answer came easily. It was because of Twilight.
She’d always known she would hurt Twilight. She couldn’t have both, her friendship with Twilight and the return of her magic were mutually exclusive. One could not exist alongside the other, and it had always been the plan to make use of Twilight then, when she ceased to be useful, to discard her.
You’re broken, Adagio.
Adagio’s hands balled into fists. Why did it have to happen now? Twilight had invited her into her home, why? To be stabbed in the back? Maybe Aria was right—she was a snake, after all, and it was a snake’s nature to bite.
“I don’t want to do this.”
She jammed her eyes shut. What was she saying? If she didn’t take this chance, it could be months—maybe even years—before she could build a copy of the amulet herself, if she was even capable of such a feat! Would Twilight even still want her in her life at that point?
Of course she would. Twilight had said it herself—they were bound together. But if Adagio stayed, if she allowed her bond with Twilight to grow even greater than it was now… would she ever be able to bring herself to break it?
She already knew the answer.
So, this was it. Adagio had to choose between the restoration of her magic, and her life with Twilight Sparkle. It shouldn’t have been a hard choice—her destiny was on the line, after all—but the more she considered it, the more her heart ached. This was her punishment for indulging herself with fantasies of friendship, but without that fantasy she never would have had this opportunity in the first place.
Why did she have to make this choice? Why did she open that stupid box?
Adagio picked up the toothbrush. She was taking too long—it wouldn’t matter what she decided if Twilight caught on to her plan. She brushed her teeth quickly and wasted no more time changing into the pajamas Twilight had given her, before exiting the bathroom more confused and anxious than when she’d entered it.
She returned to Twilight’s room, lingering for a moment outside before entering. It was dark, the only light in the room now coming from the lamp at Twilight’s bedside, and Spike was curled up in his spot at the foot of the bed. Twilight herself, now dressed in a similar pair of pajamas to what Adagio now wore, sat in the bed with the cover pulled up to her waist.
“Hi,” she said.
Adagio forced a smile and climbed into the bed next to her.
“Could you get the light?”
She reached over to the lamp and turned it off, shrouding them in darkness.
“Thank you,” said Twilight, followed by a yawn. “Good night, Adagio, see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Twilight Sparkle,” responded Adagio.
All trace of her exhaustion was gone from her mind. She was wide awake, staring up into the abyss that surrounded her. On one side, nestled beneath the warm blankets, was Twilight Sparkle, the one person in this world (and any others) that Adagio cared for. On the other, waiting for her in a dusty old box, was the amulet—the key to not only her magic, but to the end of her life as a mere human. She stood at a fork in the road. Two paths lay before her, each stretching out into the gloom, never to meet again.
Adagio made her choice.
Twilight Sparkle awoke to the blaring of her alarm.
She reached out with her hand, groping blindly (or, more accurately, nearsightedly) for her phone which, for some reason, was on the wrong side. Usually she turned her alarm off on weekends, but, given the events of the night before, all thoughts that weren’t about her sleepover with Adagio had gone by the wayside.
Twilight blinked. Adagio.
“Sorry!” she squeaked, her fumbling becoming more desperate when she remembered she wasn’t alone. She felt the tips of her finger knock into something hard and winced at the sound of her phone falling from its place on the bookshelf (the dresser where she typically placed it was on the other side—Adagio’s side) and clattering against the hard wooden floor.
She leaned down, dangling herself precariously off the side of the bed while she scooped the phone up and into her hands. Okay, so she ended up looking a bit like a clutz, but she’d managed to avoid falling off the bed herself, so that was something.
“Sorry about that,” she repeated. “I promise I don’t usually wake up house guests with loud noises and flailing.”
There was no response.
“...Adagio?”
Twilight reached out for her glasses, managing to retrieve them without knocking them (or anything else) on the floor, and put them on. She looked over to Adagio’s side of the bed.
It was empty.
She sat up, quickly scanning the room around her. No Adagio. Twilight could feel a rising sense of panic in her chest and wild speculation began running through her mind. Had Adagio gotten sick? Had Twilight said something weird in her sleep that had scared her away? Had the whole previous night been a hyper-realistic dream?
Twilight shook her head. She was being crazy—for all she knew, Adagio had gotten up to go to the bathroom. She chucked at her own paranoia (which ended up coming out more like a nervous laugh) and got up, determined to put her fears to rest for good.
Spike was, unsurprisingly, still blissfully asleep at the foot of the bed. He’d never been much of a guard dog, so Twilight left him alone as she stepped out into the hallway. Her first stop was the bathroom, and while Adagio was not there, Twilight did find a pair of familiar pajamas folded up and placed on the counter by the sink.
Okay, so Adagio had been here, allowing Twilight to put some of her more far-fetched theories about her disappearance to rest, while throwing fuel to some of the more worrying ones. If Adagio had awoken earlier, why hadn’t she woken Twilight? Did she not want to talk to her?
These nagging thoughts only grew in intensity as Twilight continued to search the house. The living room was empty. The kitchen was empty. She even poked her head into Shining Armor’s room, (which was also empty), but it wasn’t until she discovered that Adagio’s shoes were missing that she allowed panic to take over completely.
What the heck had happened?
Everything had gone so well last night—they hung out, they ate, they chatted, Adagio had fallen asleep on her (and missed the movie, but that just meant they could watch it again some other time!)... it had been practically perfect!
Well, maybe not perfect, she might have gotten a little intense there for a bit talking about being ‘bound together by magic’ when Adagio had found the amulet, but that wasn’t—
Twilight felt the world around her come to a screeching halt.
“No,” she whispered. She turned on her heel, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood as she sprinted back to her room and threw open the door. “No, no, no, no!”
The racket was enough to finally draw Spike from his slumber. “Twilight?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”
Twilight ignored him, instead making a beeline for the dresser beside her bed and the box that sat on top of it. The lid was askew, and while that should have been enough to tell her everything she needed to know, she had to see for herself. She opened the box.
Spike’s confusion turned to concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Where’s Adagio?”
“It’s gone,” said Twilight, staring with brokenhearted disbelief into the empty box before her.
The amulet was gone, and so was Adagio.