“Captain Spitfire.”
Princess Celestia’s clear, lilting voice made Spitfire instinctively stand up straighter. Even at rest, her posture was sharp, but Princess Celestia made her want it to be perfect. “Your Highness.”
Even after hardening her domain into a reluctant land of warfare and industry, Princess Celestia could smile at will. She stood up, standing taller than Spitfire but never looming. Her horn lit up with undulating, entrancing yellow, and the doors to her tent cinched themselves closed.
A moment later, Spitfire felt soft, pillowy feathers touching her side, not quite dragging her but just coaxing her. Most leaders didn’t hug their soldiers, but that Princess Celestia did was just one of countless reasons Spitfire would follow her right into Sombra’s flames.
“I’m glad you’re alright.” Princess Celestia kept the hug short, then moved back away to her table. A warm smile played on her lips, undeterred by war—but then the likes of war were nothing but another trial for one as old as Princess Celestia. “That siren… I should have known that if anypony would come away from her unscathed, it would be you.”
‘Unscathed’ might be pushing it.
Praise from Princess Celestia made many ponies beam. Spitfire just nodded. “We’ll see about that, ma’am.” She was never sure whether to smile or not, but Princess Celestia’s presence made her do it without thinking. “I may have a way we can win this thing.”
“At this stage, a few more weeks ought to cover it.” Princess Celestia peered down at the table. Her horn lit, and what had been a piece of taut fabric and a collection of pewter miniatures grew to be a flickering, ethereal canvas, vividly colored and hovering in front of them both like a wall. To Spitfire, it may as well have been a whole different language, but that was why she was just a captain. “Sombra has far too much ground to cover, and has been throwing his ponies’ lives away so heartlessly he has few left.”
Spitfire shuddered as she recalled that first day of the war. An entire empire marching at once had very nearly pushed Equestria ‘til it snapped. Since, then, though… She didn’t like to think about what had to be done to do it, but supplies had never been anything less than bountiful.
“We could overrun him tomorrow, if we all pushed hard enough. But too many would die.” Princess Celestia’s smile faltered, for a fraction of a second.
Nopony ever asked Spitfire to be an advisor, but sometimes even a princess needed one. “We only have one of you, though, ma’am. That siren—” Adagio, she wanted to say, but held back “—must know that if Sombra falls, she’ll be put to death.” Spitfire swallowed, surprising herself with how uneasy that thought made her feel.
The Princess Celestia that Spitfire had met several years before, at her first Grand Galloping Gala, would have been horrified at such a suggestion. Whereas now, the reaction was no more than a distasteful grimace. Maybe they’d return to the subject later, once the discussion was resolved, and Princess Celestia would show more reluctance? Or was that only wishful thinking? Either way, when that legendary mercy was in question, Spitfire was in deep.
Princess Celestia went silent for a moment. It was a grim, dour silence. “Sombra has been wasting her power, by keeping her here. She could do a thousand times as much harm if she could slip past us, and I don’t doubt that she would try, if she had nothing to lose.”
“And you held your ground against them both, ma’am, but I don’t know about defeating either of them like that, unless one makes a mistake.” Spitfire drew in a sharp breath. She could still walk out of that tent without taking any risks.
“I know.” Princess Celestia nodded slowly.
“What if you didn’t have to?”
Princess Celestia said nothing, though a curious twinkle came to her eyes. The answer to the ‘what if?’ was obvious: they could win the war tomorrow, with minimal bloodshed, and all go home. It was the getting there part what would be tricky – both in the ‘what if?’ scenario, and in persuading the princess.
“The rest of Sombra’s armies are slaves.” Spitfire had faced legions with less of a dry mouth than at that moment. “What if she’s there under duress as well?”
“That siren has the blood on her hooves of thirteen thousand ponies.” Princess Celestia’s face was flat, but her voice had a mournful tone buried amongst the severity.
So many? The number, beyond a certain point, meant nothing to Spitfire other than just being a big number, not something she could connect with. She’d known it would be a lot, but... how many had she expected? And how was she struggling to link it with the haunted eyes in the beautiful face etched into her memory, when she’d seen first-hoof those eyes turn red with power and death?
Before Spitfire could form further thoughts about Adagio having little choice in the matter, Princess Celestia continued, her face darker still. “And a quarter of that dates back to long before this war, when she tried to take over the world on her own, and came far closer than Sombra.” But then despair found its way into Princess Celestia’s voice again, though Spitfire wasn’t sure whether it was at or for such a creature. “Where do you think she’d rather be than a battlefield?”
“I got close to her today” – perhaps too close, if she was now in her CO’s tent asking her to trust a mass-murderer – “and from what I saw, she’d rather have been anywhere else.” Spitfire swallowed again, hearing how weak the argument sounded when she aired it aloud. What was it about Adagio that had so convinced her? Not convinced, no, but sounded believable to her in spite of everything.
Anypony else might have openly scoffed, but of course Princess Celestia was always kinder than that. Something flickered across her face, but Spitfire wasn’t sure what. There was a tightening around her eyes, and a slight shift in her stance, as if looking at Spitfire from a new angle. Was this the part where she’d confine Spitfire to quarters, not trusting her sympathy for the enemy? Unable to rely on her to fight her foes rather than befriend them?
But when Princess Celestia spoke, it was only to lay out her next counterargument in a calming, neutral voice. “She effortlessly changes form, she naturally has size, scales, and sharp hooves and teeth, and her magic is not only powerful, but insidious. She doesn’t overwhelm ponies – although I am quite certain she could – she merely redirects them against each other without them even realising it.” Again Princess Celestia’s voice hardened while laced with sadness. “She’s a creature built for war.”
Then why does it seem to make her so miserable? Especially when she’s obviously so good at it. And why, Spitfire tried to fathom, would Adagio bother with such grace and beauty in everything she did? Why the silk dress rather than armor or a Wonderbolt-style jumpsuit, and why expend the magical effort to keep it untouched by the snow it draped through?
Princess Celestia tilted her head to one side, her tone neutral again and verging on curious. “How do you propose Sombra could have captured something so powerful and bent it to his will, if it didn’t want to be there?”
That thought hadn’t even occurred to Spitfire. She was so used to throwing herself against Sombra, alongside half the rest of Equestria, that anypony being able to stand up to him alone, other than the princess herself, seemed almost alien.
And how did she explain it in Adagio’s case? In fact, was it even her job to explain it? She was just reporting what she’d seen, passing on a strategic advantage she’d become aware of, and maybe even helping somepony in the process who might be more innocent than they’d all thought. A bit more, anyway.
But she was also trying to argue her case to her commander, and convince her that Spitfire’s suggested course of action was the best way forward. If the princess picked holes in her plans or theories, well, then they deserved holes picking in them. Spitfire could only offer what she knew, what she’d observed.
“She wears a pearl earring in her left ear, no matter what form she’s taking. It flashes, and she winces.” Even in that nerve-wracking situation of trying to sound persuasive in front of Princess Celestia, Spitfire felt her heart go out to Adagio at the memory of the pain on her face. “Everypony who’s been in the bunk beds in Cloudsdale Flight School knows how it feels to be kicked in the head from time to time, but when I tried to kick that earring, the reaction was way stronger.”
It probably wasn’t much of an indicator of her progress overall, but nonetheless she was reassured when Princess Celestia smiled again.
“Some ponies just don’t like being kicked in the head, Captain.”
Spitfire could chuckle later. For now she had to be defiant and stay the course. “This pony thanked me for it afterwards, as well as saying ‘Duty calls’ when the earring flashed, and moving off like she’d received new orders.”
Princess Celestia leaned a hair forwards. “So you think Sombra’s using it to control her?”
“Yes ma’am.” That much was solid, at least. The conclusion fit the facts, even if the princess ended up deciding the evidence wasn’t strong enough to operate from.
The twinkle in Princess Celestia’s eyes gained more intensity, curiosity becoming something more. “And you think if we can break it, and free her from its influence, she’ll be one fewer thorn in our sides?”
For the first time in years, Spitfire had to fight to stop herself shuffling her hooves. “I do.”
They weren’t just fighting for survival against Sombra, they were also fighting to free the ponies he’d enslaved and driven to war. And while Adagio clearly had more autonomy than the masked troops making up Sombra’s land armies, how could she react any differently when freed? If anything, her relief and gratitude was likely to be even greater, as the soldier ponies perhaps weren’t even aware of what was going on, while Adagio was kept in line with pain, all too aware of her torment.
Maybe ‘gratitude’ would be a stretch; she couldn’t quite picture Adagio throwing her hooves around them all and joining them for a group song. A pang of sadness whispered through her at that. Because Adagio’s voice was so beautiful, of course, and their group song would be nothing without it. Not because of missing out on hugging her. Obviously.
But it would take quite the leap for a freed slave to then go on a crusade of revenge against those who freed her, surely?
Returning to her senses, Spitfire noticed Princess Celestia wasn’t quite done yet with her contemplating, looking this way and that as different expressions of thoughtfulness took their turn on her face, narrowing her eyebrows one moment, biting her cheek the next.
At no particular signal, Princess Celestia’s eyes lifted to Spitfire’s again, resolved. “If it’s that simple, it would be worth investigating.”
Thank you. So calm was the princess’ answer that Spitfire didn’t sigh with relief, just silently exhale to fully empty and refill her lungs afresh, nodding as she did so. No sooner had that success rolled in, though, than the problems with how to proceed crept up on her.
“But when I kicked it, there was no sign of damage.” Not to the earring, anyway, Spitfire thought; seeing the image in her mind of Adagio’s wide-eyed stare. “And I gave it a hefty old kick.”
“It may be magically toughened with one of Sombra’s enchantments.” Princess Celestia sat back on her haunches. Were her commander anypony else, Spitfire would have been left looming over them, instead of still barely reaching their chin.
“If the commands come through the earring, then one order will be to protect the earring itself.” Spitfire took to pacing a few steps side to side while the princess watched on. ‘At ease’ was Princess Celestia’s insisted default stance in her presence, and Spitfire knew from previous experience there was no problem with her moving around while advising the princess if it helped with her thinking. “We won’t get a clear shot at it without having to go through her to get there, and we won’t survive that.”
“I might be able to.” Princess Celestia sounded neither over-confident or under-, just weighing the possibility.
No, that hadn’t been Spitfire’s intention at all! She froze – if any harm came to the princess in such a fight, Equestria would be both leaderless and defenceless against Sombra.
Before Spitfire could channel her panic into words, Princess Celestia continued. “But she might flee if I came after her directly. Why chance fighting me alone, when she and Sombra could unite against me?”
That time Spitfire did let out a sigh, though her resumed pacing hid it. If the pearl couldn’t be destroyed without serious firepower, could it be removed? “The only thing I can think of is to continue as I have been, to let me get close to her and then, without warning, bite her earlobe off quicker than she can respond.” A dark thought, that; cannibalism, the taste of blood, and how tearing a chunk out of Adagio’s face felt like damaging a work of art. Not to mention just how near Spitfire would have to be to a dangerous creature very likely to lash out when provoked like that. “But pony teeth aren’t the sharpest, so I don’t know if I can do that in one swoop.”
The set of Princess Celestia’s mouth had wavered at the suggestion of biting ponies, but by the time Spitfire had finished speaking, determination had pushed it back into its thin, considering line. “Maybe a visit to Lieutenant Minuette can add some enchantments to help with that.” The princess let a sly smile overtake her look of keen strategizing, most probably thinking of how Spitfire did not get on with that particular lieutenant.
Why did the front line’s only dentist have to be so chatty, and determined to invade a pony’s personal space? “Tooth sharpening.” Spitfire gulped. “Yes ma’am.”
That’ll teach me to speculate aloud on tactics without vetting what I’m letting myself in for.
“It sounds like something only you can achieve, Captain, so make it your priority on the battlefield. In the meantime–”
“In the meantime, ma’am, I think it does mean something for our strategy.” Not many would dare interrupt the princess mid-sentence, however forgiving she might be, but Wonderbolt captains weren’t chosen for their shyness. And if it meant fewer lives wasted needlessly, Princess Celestia would be first in line to encourage her own interruption.
“What do you suggest?” The princess’ voice as melodious as her smile was kind, but both had a wary edge.
Driving away the urge to take a deep breath before speaking, Spitfire halted her pacing and respectfully looked Princess Celestia in the eye. “It’s not her we need to worry about. If we can beat Sombra, Adagio can be reasoned with.”
Ponyfeathers! Spitfire fought to keep her eyes from widening like saucers at her mistake. The name had just slipped out! Not that there was anything wrong in principle with knowing an enemy’s name – they all knew Sombra’s, after all – but the closer Spitfire appeared to be to Adagio, the more on her side, then the more biased and less reliable she looked in her reasons.
“She told you her name.” Princess Celestia’s words came out in a wry whisper. “She must really like you.” Her eyes twinkled again, but were tense around the edges.
Spitfire had never met a pony who could show two opposing emotions at once quite like Princess Celestia. The light in her eyes was something that usually came with mischief, but the tension from concern. Like I’m flirting with something dangerous. There was a sinking feeling in Spitfire’s stomach as she realised how close to the truth that assessment was. “...She said I was pretty.”
“Poor, deluded thing.” Princess Celestia shook her head to herself and looked to the ceiling. The blush that had been warming Spitfire’s cheeks since her admission had to fight to hold its own against amusement. A tiny flash of outrage, too, which lasted only the brief moment until she reflected on how sweet it was that, despite all the centuries Princess Celestia had been teasing ponies for, she still couldn’t quite keep a straight face while doing so.
Just as Spitfire was wondering how many other ponies couldn’t stand in the princess’ presence without periodically feeling love radiating off her, the jovial glow faded. The image that came to Spitfire’s mind was the now-familiar one of the sun going down over the frozen wastes, leaving only bitter winds in place of its warmth. Again, the comparison was accidentally close to reality.
The Sun Princess looked regretful that her manner sobered and sombered again. “You understand how vulnerable that will leave us, if we strike at Sombra and Adagio’s true colors are darker than you believe?”
A creature so adept at killing she made it look like art would rampage across Equestria, while the forces meant to protect the ponies there were still tied up in the Crystal Empire. Yes, Spitfire understood.
“I know. But every instinct I have is telling me it won’t come to that.” All a pegasus had was her instincts; nothing else could provide answers quickly enough when diving, and to ignore them was often to spin out and fall.
But then...
Turbulent thoughts crept from the shadows of her mind. Lightning Dust had trusted her instincts, and she’d spun out all the same. Lightning had spent her whole life listening to her intuition, but never learned to give her conscious reasoning the same consideration, and within her first week at the front line she’d sent a tornado through their supply convoys. Lightning solely trusting her instincts, where her common sense might have told her not to be an idiot and to just follow orders, had cost her her life, and Rainbow Dash her wing.
Were her instincts so infallible that she could rely on them when half of Equestria was at stake? Was that even fair on those whom her choice would affect? It wasn’t a snap decision of when to pull out of a dive; there was time to think it through, rationally, from every angle, before taking any action. And, for all she was trying to persuade the princess, she also trusted Princess Celestia’s judgement, and owed her full transparency. That meant the doubts she’d been trying to shut out needed to be shared, so a proper decision could be made.
“But... It’s easy to enchant a pearl to light up from time to time, right?” Spitfire probably knew less about magic than most pegasi, as immersed as she was in her life amongst other fliers. She couldn’t imagine that level of it being difficult, though. “And it’s easy to fake a grimace of pain.” Much too easy, in fact; that was a doubt she definitely should have listened to earlier. “If that kind of manipulation is what sirens do, then it wouldn’t be hard to pull this off as an act.”
Everypony who’d ever spoken, usually in hushed tones, of the dreaded siren and her powers – that was, those who hadn’t personally experienced it, for those ponies never discussed it aloud – seemed to assume that brainwashing was akin to some fog clogging the conscious mind, a beguiling haze of bad decisions a pony thought to be sensible at the time, but deep down knew to be wrong. And the suggested coping strategy she’d heard was to hold as firmly as possible to that fundamental, emotional truth beneath it all, and let it guide you when the conscious mind was compromised.
What if that wasn’t it? What if emotions and instincts, the most base, subconscious basis of thoughts, were the easiest to fool? They were the simplest, in terms of how their impulses were presented – break left, snap roll right, kiss her, don’t trust him – how simple would it be to interrupt that connection, and scramble it to say whatever a siren wished? While the rational mind could only sit there, watching but powerless, screaming that the dazzling yellow mare with the spectacular mane had awfully sharp teeth, and that you should run while you had the chance. Only for the subconscious to whisper, But I don’t want to...
Shuddering, Spitfire shook herself to break the dark vision’s hold on her. “And no, I really don’t know how Sombra could capture a creature that powerful.”
A long silence stretched. Princess Celestia never took her eyes of Spitfire, but the impression was that sometimes she was seeing what was right in front of her, and others her focus was far away. There was a quiet respect in her eyes, different to how Spitfire had ever been looked at before. Every previous time she’d thought Princess Celestia especially proud of her, it had been because of the success of some raid or escort mission, some offensive or defensive she’d won, held out or survived. But they were all a soldier’s achievements, and the current look seemed to be because Spitfire had reached a strength beyond that, a triumph greater than that of her usual comfort zone.
“I do.” Princess Celestia’s voice was barely a whisper, although it could have made mountains weep. “Her sisters. Once there were three sirens, now we see only one, and she obeys Sombra’s commands.” She brought one forehoof to her stomach, and her lip curled. “If ever there were a creature vile enough to exploit family as a weakness, it’s him.”
Something to be feared rather than envied, Spitfire remembered thinking of Adagio. Which should have raised alarms at the time, now she thought of it, how something so beautiful and so powerful could possibly elicit sympathy rather than jealousy. “That would explain it.” She’d thought Adagio had had a haunted look to her eyes; she hadn’t had any idea how literal that guess had been. “And if her sisters’ lives were at stake, then–”
“Please don’t finish that sentence, Captain.” Princess Celestia sounded weary; more so by far than Spitfire had ever heard from her. Nor could she ever recall the princess interrupting her before, and Spitfire would’ve thought her angry if the bone-deep exhaustion of centuries hadn’t been so prominent in her tone. “To weigh the suffering of a beloved sister, simply because she’s closer to you, over that of all the ponies being hurt as a result is nothing but selfishness. It would explain her actions, but not excuse them.”
A long time ago, a golden yellow filly had been warned that her habit of speaking before she thought was liable to one day land her in trouble. Spitfire had always assumed, though, it would come from something she said in anger, not out of compassion. You were right, Dad. Wish you could still be here to see it.
She couldn’t even process it; what she’d said, and the massive important connection she hadn’t made. So she stood there, and if she had more luck than she deserved in that moment then hopefully her mouth at least wasn’t hanging open.
And Princess Celestia was right, of course. To protect family was one of those arguments that could be used to justify anything, but rarely actually did so. If everypony suspended their morals in that situation, Equestria would be chaos.
How would I have acted, though? If I’d had a sister, and she’d been in trouble, what wouldn’t I do to try to save her? Some ponies might argue that stealing a hayburger to feed their family was ok, or at least more ok than stealing just for personal gain; but how far did the line shift in those circumstances? Theft ok, murder not? But how many mothers wouldn’t kill to protect their foals? So was one murder ok, but not ten thousand? Or the murder of the guilty party acceptable, but not innocents murdered at their command?
Even at its most extreme – as seemed to be the case with Adagio – it made a difference knowing the motivation was love. Not even the deluded spinoff emotions like jealousy or possessiveness which sometimes drove ponies to fight; this was pure love acting genuinely in the sisters’ best interest. Could that really be called evil? Did the evil of the actions Adagio was forced to take stay with her, or was it transferred onto Sombra, the one truly responsible for the situation?
Just as Sombra would be held accountable for the harm caused by his brainwashed army of slaves, and none would blame them for their deeds over which they had no control, couldn’t the same be said of Adagio? And how could Adagio be said to be created for war, when all her actions stemmed from love?
“Why do I want to excuse them?” Spitfire spoke mostly to herself, but loud enough to be heard as well.
Princess Celestia gave her a quizzical look but said nothing.
Spitfire frowned, absently considering how she might be blowing her own credibility by voicing her thoughts, but too frightened not to. “There’s this tiny voice in my head saying that it’s ok she acted like that.” Because Princess Celestia really was right: Adagio’s actions stemmed from her own control, and to take that many lives to protect only two could not be justified. Yet Spitfire couldn’t see Adagio’s face, and the look in her eyes, and think of it as evil. “That she didn’t really mean it or something... because she’s... pretty?”
A blush might have risked creeping up on Spitfire another time, but at that moment she knew nothing but her own paranoia. “Is that her in my head?”
“Why would she be in your head?” Princess Celestia’s question was reassuring, and she drew herself to her hooves and moved to stand in front of Spitfire, stroking her shoulder with a wing.
For once, the soothing caress of the princess’ feathers wasn’t enough to calm Spitfire. “All I know is she left me alive twice, for no clear reason, when she could just as easily have killed me.” And she’d taken that needless mercy as evidence that Adagio wasn’t just the sadist they’d thought until that point. “But what if this conversation is the reason? Sombra doesn’t have long left, so it’s the right time to be earning points with the enemy.” How predictable was it for Adagio that Spitfire would petition Princess Celestia after their encounter? “And even if it’s not her attempting to save herself, or jump ship, it could be a ploy to lure us into lowering our defences around her, whether it’s a plan cooked up with Sombra or a chance for her to get even if he falls.”
How many of the thoughts that led Spitfire there had been her own? How would she know if any of them had been planted, guided or encouraged by the whispers of a siren who manipulated others as easily as clouds drifted on the breeze?
Princess Celestia stepped closer, raising her wing to cup Spitfire’s chin and lift her head, peering into her eyes from only a hoofwidth away. Up that close, she could feel the princess’ breath stirring the feathers on her chest, and she felt the tingle running over her scalp and back she knew from being inspected for her annual physical.
“No, there’s no trace of dark magic that I can see.”
A lot of air left Spitfire’s lungs, her sigh meeting the deep breaths she’d been trying to ground herself with.
Princess Celestia gently turned Spitfire’s face this way and that with her wing, continuing to look her over closely. Traces of creases appeared on her brow. “But siren influence is potentially more subtle than I can detect.” Her smile then reasserted itself when she retracted her wing, giving Spitfire a very knowing look. “And she is very pretty.”
Even a princess has eyes, it seems. So unexpected was the thought, and so contrasting to the fear and doubt that had been creeping through her that she snorted with laughter before she could stop herself.
“Do you think I need to worry?” If even Princess Celestia couldn’t tell, would Spitfire ever be sure?
“I would say try to keep an eye on it, but don’t worry about it. It’s probably not that.” Princess Celestia seated herself again as before, and her horn lit up, enveloping a kettle across the room in a warm glow.
“What do you put it down to, then?” If she was compromised as an advisor of sorts – let alone as Wonderbolt Captain – then she needed to know.
Noises of china pottery drew her attention to the far side of the tent again, where the aura of Celestia’s magic dropped three teabags into the teapot and then poured in the now-steaming water from the kettle. The princess sighed contentedly as lid and cosy settled over the teapot, and Spitfire in turn found herself also more relaxed, despite her concern.
Then Princess Celestia turned to Spitfire again, pursing her lips, though her tone was that of idle musing. “It could be that you saw somepony suffering and reached out to them, listening to compassion on the battlefield, where it is most lacking.”
Joy, love, pride, relief; they all blossomed in Spitfire at that moment. It wasn’t lost on her how the princess chose her words, praising Spitfire’s loyalty rather than questioning it. Princess Celestia’s allegiance was not to Equestria, but to compassion itself, and no embracing of that virtue could be thought of as an ill. That was the reason they were all fighting in the first place.
Princess Celestia’s eyebrow rose, and she undercut her kind and noble air with one of mischief. “Or it could be the lust of a pegasus who should know better.”
*
Spitfire lowered the mug of tea after a sizeable sip of its contents, holding it in both her forehooves. The nights in the Crystal Empire were frigid and fearsome, and hot drinks were sometimes even better than magic at keeping it at bay. And even for her, it wasn’t every day you were offered tea by the princess.
They sat opposite each other on the floor, each on a cushion, Princess Celestia with her back legs folded beneath her, Spitfire with hers crossed in front, recalling pictures she’d seen at school of Nippone or Saddle Arabia. Any tension the room had held at points in their earlier conversation had mellowed, and the magically-contained fire the princess had lit cast warm shadows around the tent as it flickered.
Spitfire stared deep into her tea before speaking. “You didn’t react as strongly as I expected when I mentioned that she’d spoken to me.” Princess Celestia’s ears swivelled forwards attentively, but she didn’t look up from her own drink. “I thought you’d be more inquisitorial in case she’d brainwashed me.”
A movement of Princess Celestia’s hoof swirled the contents of her cup a final time before she lifted her gaze to meet Spitfire’s. “If you start accusing ponies, Captain, they lock up.” Her voice was low and melodic. “If you’re trying to detect an external influence on somepony’s mind, you need her to act like herself so you can see if anything is amiss.”
The princess took a dainty sip. It appeared she shared the rest of the army’s feelings on the rudeness of blowing on a drink to cool it when the climate would do so quickly enough anyway. She looked more keenly at Spitfire as she continued. “More than that, though – you mentioned that the earring would force the wearer to defend it?” Spitfire nodded. “I’d think this would be the same, with a defensive mechanism of denial. I can’t say I know much about brainwashing, but you being able to express doubt about being in your right mind as freely as you did seems a good sign.”
Nodding absently, Spitfire looked away and mulled it over. An effective test, for sure, but at what risk? “I can’t say I’m too comfortable with that as procedure, ma’am. It seems very trusting to let somepony who could have been turned into a sleeper agent stay within hoof’s length of the commander-in-chief.”
Princess Celestia tittered nervously to herself behind a hoof. “If it makes you feel better, I’d been ready to squash you with magic ever since you mentioned being near her?”
Well alright, you don’t need to get jealous or anything. The idea that an alicorn had been willing to snuff out Spitfire’s existence in a heartbeat was one of those that should have been chilling rather than jokey. Would have been, if not for the level of her trust of Princess Celestia. When somepony personally raised the sun each morning, you kind of accepted they had power of life and death over you anyway.
The fire now drew Princess Celestia’s gaze instead of her teacup, and she appeared to lose herself in the ever-shifting flames for a long stretch until she continued. “But also, I had my own suspicion about Adagio.” She turned a kind, magenta eye towards Spitfire. “I’ve noticed something off about her too. Her heart wasn’t in that last fight.” Her eyes wandered back to the fire. “If it had been, I might not have made it out in one piece.”
“But why did you oppose me, if you thought I might be right?” Though it was nice for Spitfire to have a second opinion backing her up.
The princess took a long drink of her tea, not looking away from the twisting flames. Spitfire noticed the cue that it was cool enough to be drank rather than sipped, and followed suit. By the time she lowered her cup again, Princess Celestia still hadn’t moved.
Even when the princess spoke, her body remained still apart from her mouth. “Because I’m not as brave as you, Captain. You see an opportunity and you dive for it –” for a moment she turned to Spitfire, and seemed more conversational than reflective “– and you’re right to, because if you hesitated for a second you wouldn’t make it.”
Princess Celestia returned her attention to the fire and continued. “I can’t do that.” She lifted her cup to her lips again and drank. “The most important thing to me has to be what happens if I’m wrong. I think of the risk where you think of the reward, because taking risks for me is gambling with everypony’s lives.”
The princess took a final draft of her tea, setting the cup down on a table with her magic and then focusing fully on Spitfire, her manner present, almost urgent in it seriousness, and all the more intent for its contrast to her previous demeanour. “So we need to be as sure about this as we can. Adagio Dazzle – that’s her full name, by the way – is the most dangerous creature you’ve ever met. That includes Sombra. And myself, too. And we need to know if we can trust her.”
Spitfire hid her wide eyes behind the act of finishing her own drink, which also neatly covered the urge to swallow. What have I got myself into this time?
They gathered in inky, impenetrable masses that spilled and billowed across the floor. Even skirting as close to the walls as she did, she had a sinking feeling that those shadows would consume her if she strayed to close. The second-worst part was the noise that they made. Ethereal, echoing howls crawled out of them, accompanied and diabolically enriched by eerie whispers. If walking through the shadows of the rest of the halls was like walking on coals, their unearthly wails made Adagio think that stepping into one of those masses must have been like diving headlong into a furnace.
But the worst part about them was that they were eager. They were not passive at all, not like all the other shadows. The others were content to lie where they rested, and latch on only to those who strayed close enough. Those masses, though? Far from it. When their reach fell short, they tried to extend it, and not just by making themselves longer. They were welcoming. Tendrils didn’t just blindly grope towards her, but curled back like crude beckons.
Sonata clung to Adagio’s shoulder a little tighter whenever they had to go past one of those. Fortunately, they were few and far between, though scattered so sparsely and seemingly sporadically that it was nigh impossible to get used to them. Even Aria had gone pale the first time she saw one, and shivered every time thereafter.
“Dagi?” Sonata tugged on Adagio’s sleeve after walking past one such mass of ravenous blackness. “How much farther do you think we have to…?”
“We’ll know it when we see it,” Adagio replied. “It’ll be guarded, I’m sure. We’ll just have to—”
“Do we even know we can find it?” Aria interjected. “What kind of dumbass would leave something like that where his prisoners can get at it?”
“He needs to access it somehow, doesn’t he?” Adagio came to a halt, and looked back to glare at Aria. “What kind of secret lab doesn’t have an entrance?”
Aria gave a flippant shrug. “Unicorns can teleport. Who says it has to be a door?”
Adagio opened her mouth, ready to reply, and then said nothing. Beside her, Sonata frowned and looked up to her. “Dagi? Did you think of something?”
I wish I hadn’t. Adagio nodded, swiveling in place to peer at the mass of shadows they’d just passed. Looking into it made her blood run cold, and she had to struggle to not turn tail on the spot, let alone walk closer.
“What’re you doing?” An insistent purple hand seized her by the wrist.
Adagio shook it off. “Just a minute.” She pointed to the mass of shadows. “What do you think those do?”
“Kill us?” Aria said at the same time Sonata said, “Eat us?”
“But he needs us alive, doesn’t he?” Adagio turned to face her sisters. “If we’re so important and he’s willing to let us wander, why would he put things this dangerous out here for us to walk into?”
Sonata looked confused, Aria thoughtful. “I guess you might have a point,” Aria muttered. “What’re you thinking?”
“That the last door you’d want to go through is one that you think is going to kill you.” Adagio stepped closer to the mass of shadows, close enough that she could just barely feel the tips of its eager tendrils brushing her skin.
“This doesn’t seem like a very good idea,” Sonata murmured.
“Probably because it’s basically the opposite of that,” Aria grumbled.
“He’s been meticulous about everything else.” Adagio took a step closer. A tendril lashed out and yanked on her arm, nearly pulling her off-balance. Aria and Sonata darted beside her, each dragging her back by the shoulder and waist. Adagio could hear her heart racing, and every instinct she had told her to run while she still had time, but when she felt more tendrils reaching for her, she pushed both her sisters off, stepped forward, and let the shadows swallow her up.
It felt like standing under a waterfall, only every droplet of frigid water was alive and crawled across her skin after it landed on her. Not quite pain, not like any that she knew, but the experience was deeply unpleasant.
At least it was short. Just a second or two, and then she tumbled out onto a hard crystalline floor, where she lay sprawled out flat on her back and staring up at a grandiose archway.
She breathed out a long breath. “Nailed it,” she muttered to herself as she clambered to her feet and looked back the way that she’d come. There was a doorway behind her, a frame of glossy dark crystal filled with rippling blackness. Once she was on her feet, she moved up, hesitantly stuck a hand through, and quickly felt soft fingers interlacing with hers.
“There, see? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Adagio said as Sonata wheezed and panted on the ground and Aria clawed at her chest. With a smug smirk and a toss of her hair, Adagio walked right over her sisters, moving forwards into the room ahead of them, where she came to an abrupt halt.
It was like no room she’d ever seen, in or out of Equestria. Runes and scrolls and apparatus everywhere she looked, all charged with veritably palpable magic. Far in front of her, there stood a tall slab of plain, cloudy black crystal, opaque from the distance she saw it from. Something about it put her on edge, for reasons she couldn’t hope to fathom.
The bulk of her attention, though, was drawn to a pedestal towards the center of the room, where a crimson geode laid in wait for her.
Sonata touched the geode, and immediately gasped. She paused, shivering, biting her lip but nodding. When she looked back to Adagio, she wore a troubled frown. “I, uh… I don’t think this thing likes me very much,” she whimpered. “It’ll work, I think, but… can we hurry, maybe?”
“Of course.” Adagio nodded, resting her locket in her palm, flicking it open, and holding it out towards Sonata. Ruby shards twinkled in the light, greeting her eagerly. It felt like it had been ages since she’d seen them, but a friend as old as they were never failed to lift her spirits. “Go on, then.”
“O- okay.” Sonata kept frowning, flitting eyes between the geode and the shards. “What am I supposed to—”
“Just…” Adagio blinked slowly. Sunset had always had to touch her to use the geode’s magic, she distinctly recalled, so she procured a small sliver from the locket, pinched it between her fingers, reached out towards Sonata—and then abruptly retracted. A stinging pain on her fingertip made her flinch and curse under her breath.
“Dagi?” Sonata put her hand out, but then glanced back at the geode and thought better of it. She still inched closer, and her face expressed worry that her hands didn’t. “Are you—”
Adagio didn’t respond right away. She glared down at her hand, at the bead of crimson forming on her index finger, and at the sliver of ruby she still held. It must have meant something, that prick. She’d learned a long time ago that her gem did not act lightly, and the timing seemed far too convenient to be an accident.
“Adagio?” Aria spoke that time, turning away from the door. “What’s going on?”
Shaking her head suddenly, Adagio stared at Sonata and held out her empty hand. “Give me the geode,” she stated quickly. “I- I think my gem wants me to be the one to—”
“But Sonata needs to learn the song,” Aria growled. Clenching her teeth, she pressed her fingers to her temple. “Just give her—”
Adagio glanced between a confused Sonata and an impatient Aria, and quickly went to the latter’s side, laying a hand on a shoulder and locking eyes with her sister. “It wouldn’t” —she held up her bleeding finger— “have done this if it didn’t…” When Aria shot her a glare, she felt her heart ache, and a rebuke gathered on her tongue.
“Girls!” Sonata slipped in between them and pushed them both aside. “Please, you can’t fight now!”
After a tense pause, Adagio breathed out a sigh and met Aria’s piercing gaze. “Trust me,” she pleaded. “It’s… those shards have never lied to me before.” She wondered if they hadn’t stretched the truth, or perhaps made promises they didn’t quite believe themselves, but that was a thought for another time. They had her best interests at heart, at the very least.
And, gradually, Aria backed away. Swearing quietly, she made a dismissive wave of her hand as she stalked over towards the door. “Whatever. Do what you need to do.”
Savoring the relief that came with that only for a second, Adagio quickly turned back to Sonata, who carefully dropped the geode into her hand.
She plunged into a world of radiance. Brilliant white light, everywhere she looked, like a star had swallowed her. A scattered jumble of memories sped by in a fraction of a second: far off to her left, she saw a bearded stallion carving a hole in time and space, while to her right, she saw herself and her sisters, rehearsing a dance the day before they would strut into Canterlot High. Rivers of music circled her—every song she’d ever sang was a part of it, a mere strand plucked from a tapestry far bigger than she could fathom.
Throughout it all, she felt something stirring. A great vastness, submerged in an ocean of melodic sound. She knew that it was old, far older than her, but she’d known it her entire life. That leviathan had been there when she was born, had nurtured her and guided her through every waking hour for over a thousand years.
It touched her. Not with any kind of flesh, but a sound more beautiful than any she could produce or even imagine, one that reduced her to tears instantly.
That entity could answer every question she might have had about herself,, from the minutiae of her time as a human to the smallest details of her days in that lake, and even more. There were countless dozens of things she wished she had time to ask of it.
But there was only one thing she needed. “Please. I need a song,” she whispered; the currents of music all around her shifted faintly, and she knew then that her plea had been heard.
The entity’s answer came shortly after. A riptide rushed out and entangled her, dragging her away and hurrying her purposefully. Another white light flashed, she saw a vision of herself singing a song that splintered wood and shattered glass, and then Aria was shaking her roughly by the shoulders.
“I’m fine,” she blurted, gasping immediately after. She blinked quickly, her eyes unexpectedly moistening, and shook her head to try and make the room stop spinning. When she tried to turn, but felt herself rolling onto her side instead, she realized she’d fallen over, and a distant ache in her back made itself known as she clambered up to stand on wavering legs. Despite all that, she could hear a melody playing in her head, every bit as clear and vibrant as it had been when her gem had been singing to her, and her heart leapt with joy. Through her tears, she laughed, and it was a giddy, lilting laugh that forced her to smile.
Even when the black crystal walls came back into focus and she remembered where it was she stood, that song in her head still made her feel like she was walking on a cloud. Panting, she whirled to face Sonata, extending a hand that she didn’t realize was empty until she saw Sonata frown.
“I, uh…” Sonata fidgeted awkwardly, peeking down at the geode that was already cradled in her hands. “I didn’t think that you were going to… so I- I had to—”
Sonata sniffled, and that immediately made Adagio pull her into a warm embrace. Traces of fear diluted Adagio’s joy, but she could still wear an effortless smile as she kissed Sonata’s forehead and held her close. “Shh, don’t worry. We’re fine now.” She touched Sonata’s hand, gently coaxing her until she felt fingers interweaving with hers. When she saw Sonata’s eyes go white, she tried to think of nothing but that song in her head.
A few moments later, Sonata let go, backing away and shaking her head but quickly easing into a bright smile. “I think I can…”
“Do you hear it?” Adagio asked excitedly. “Can you hear it, even when you’re not—”
Sonata just frowned at her. “Uh… not really? I just kinda saw you singing it, and… like, I know the words and stuff? Why? Did something else happen to you?”
Adagio paused, blinking and frowning. “Yes. I saw…” A tapping foot beside her stole her attention, and she looked to see Aria glaring at them by the door. “Never mind, it’s probably not—” With a sigh, she ushered Sonata over towards Aria. “Get back to your room. I’m going to go put the geode back.” She clasped her fingers around her locket. “There’s one more person we need. And once she’s here…”