Adagio

by NaiadSagaIotaOar

Chapter XII [Draft]

She could feel the ugly taint of Sombra’s magic, a loathsome fog clouding the poor little thing’s mind. All it took was an utterance, a melodic breeze, and the fog lifted. The crystals in the visor crumbled to dust, and just like that the pony awoke from her nightmare. She gave her head a toss, fumbling with her hooves, tearing the mask from her face, looking about wildly.

“Shh, shh.” Adagio gently touched the frightened mare’s cheek, soothing her with a calm song. “He’s gone. You don’t have to fight anymore.” Hardly the words a siren would say, but every Crystal Pony wearing that armor was a lingering fragment of Sombra’s influence. Evil such as his deserved the most utter annihilation.

She had just began to turn, to seek other remnants of Sombra to scrub away, when she felt grateful hooves wrapping around her shoulders. She suppressed a wince at the pressure on her aching body, glad she'd had the time to turn just enough to avoid it directly on her chest where Sombra's black claws had fought to pry the gem from her flesh. Even as a pony, the injury to the heart of her being remained, too drenched in magic to be healed with a simple form change. She'd have covered it with a bandage if she'd known there'd be hugging.

“Thank you,” the mare said, joyful tears already gathering in her eyes. “Please, can you…”

Adagio felt only a tiny trickle of fear in the mare. Her gem suckled on it unconsciously, diminishing it until it was gone, and then there was nothing but joy looking back at her. She wasn’t sure what to make of that, not at first. Joy was of little concern to a siren, for it neither indulged her ruby’s cravings nor enriched her song. A day before, she would have dismissed it, for joy could not have given her what she desired.

Now, though…

After she parted from the grateful mare, she found another pony, and did the same for him. Another mask came off, another shroud of fear lifted, and another pair of joyous eyes looked at her.

Adoration. That was the kind of look that they gave her. As she walked, tearing off masks, shattering Sombra’s grip on the world one pony at a time, more and more faces looked at her with something resembling adoration.

She looked down at her ruby.

Crowds of ponies calling out her name, loving her. Worshipping her, beneath her as she sat above them all on a gleaming throne, golden scales sparkling in the radiance of her song. There was no older dream, not for her, not for any other siren.

And as she sang her song and shredded Sombra’s magic until there were only tatters of it remaining, ponies flocked to her. The taste of such a dream, so sweet and satisfying, so swift on the heels of Sombra’s nightmare, was delicious and intoxicating and she found herself yearning for more. More and more Crystal Ponies she freed, to obliterate Sombra’s legacy and to indulge her own wants.

Eventually, she turned her eye towards the palace—battered and worn though it was, weathered by the recent assault, she knew that there was a throne in there somewhere, and that the old king was as good as dead.

She dreamed a little more, but even in her head, there was a hollowness to the dream. There was a void in her breast, an empty cavern that Sombra had carved out of her heart, and a part of her knew, as surely as she knew the sky was blue, that her dream wasn’t enough.

But it was all she was going to get. Sirens were powerful. There was no loss that could truly fell her, so long as she drew breath and sang.

There was a little saunter in her step when she made her way back to Celestia’s tent. Slipping inside unannounced, she saw Celestia and Spitfire poring over a pile of notes and charts and whatnots, lifting their heads and eying her when she entered. Spitfire’s wry grin came back for an instant—it seemed to vanish as soon as Celestia moved.

“The king is dead,” Adagio said. She moved to stand in front of Celestia, tilting her head to meet the Alicorn’s gaze. “His empire will need a new ruler.”

She did not say more, but the hint of a frown that came to Celestia’s face said she didn’t need to. “You have somepony in mind, I take it?”

“Not a pony.” The silence that followed spoke of hesitance, the austere stare fixed on her hinting at skepticism. “The tyrant is dead, his subjects freed. You’ve done what you came here to do. Send your ponies back to their homes. They’ve earned a respite.”

Celestia glanced at Spitfire. Whatever question she wished to ask never made it out into the air, but Spitfire seemed to understand; she nodded, but it did nothing to soften Celestia’s face, and that made her frown. “The ponies here deserve a respite as well,” Celestia said as she turned back to Adagio. “This war has been too long already, but how can we know we won’t be called back if we leave?”

“I’m not like him,” Adagio stated—there was nothing she wished to be more certain of. Even when their end goals had been one and the same, comparing herself to Sombra was comparing a spider’s web to a lump of pitted iron that its owner called a hammer. “Those ponies out there already adore me, and that’s all I ever wanted.” Her voice sounded smooth to her ears, telling the lie with ease. “I’m taking that throne, and then I promise I will leave you in peace.”

“And I think we both know that your promises have rarely held any water.” Celestia’s eyes were not quite angry, but piercing nonetheless. She glanced at Spitfire only briefly, then eyed the ruby hanging from Adagio’s neck. “Trust goes both ways.”

Adagio did her best to hide how she tensed. Peering down at her ruby, she squeezed her eyes shut, reluctantly lifted a hoof, and whispered a quiet, sharp note. It stung, just as if she’d carved off a piece of her own flesh, but she presented a substantial chunk of ruby on her hoof. She felt naked with even that portion of her ruby missing—she could feel the lopsided weight from her neck, and it was excruciating.

It was a gamble, what she’d just done. With her strength waning even before that night, and her gem already cracked, she didn’t think very favorably of her chances of escape, if Celestia chose to strike at her.

That didn’t happen, of course. Celestia’s heart was softer than Sombra’s, less inclined towards outright treachery. Cunning, perhaps, half-truths and hidden schemes, but the princess had a degree of honor to her. She took the fragment of ruby in her magic, lifting it to her face and examining it. Eventually, with a heavy sigh, she turned to Spitfire. The two mares shared a long, silent look, and then Celestia handed the fragment back to Adagio.

“We will deliberate on this matter,” Celestia said. She did not sound eager. “I will return to the palace with you, and convene with my advisors.”

---

Adagio slipped into the room, and Aria felt herself tensing. Somehow, all the years they’d known each other, Adagio still surprised her from time to time, and when she saw the clattering pouch dangling from her sister’s hand, it felt like a dozen feelings all sprang up at once, and she couldn’t make sense of them at all, not right away. She sat up a little straighter, pressing against the headboard. “Are those…?”

She hadn’t needed to ask, really. The gems had always been a mystery to her, from the very first second she’d looked down and seen hers set in her own chest; she vaguely remembered that they’d whispered and spoken to her, especially when she was by the sea, but everything was blurry and faded, and clarity had only come with silence.

The day they met for the first time, Aria’s gem had stopped guiding her. Enigmatic little bugger must’ve thought she didn’t it now that she had Adagio. She could never have explained it, but for so long, Adagio had been utterly flawless in her mind. Before they ever met, she dreamed of what perfection must have looked like—and looking back, had dreamed only what those damnable rubies had told her was perfect, ‘cause it was Adagio.

And damn it, she would still be beautiful, no matter how many bad ideas went through that head of hers. She came over, holding the pouch, quietly sitting down beside Aria. “Yes, they are,” she said. “But we… never really got another chance to talk, did we?”

There was a softness to her voice and face that there hadn’t been that last time they’d been alone. The blind, vatic confidence of before simply wasn’t there.

Aria hated the way her mind leaped straight to It could be a trick, but that’s exactly what she thought. “No,” she said, “we didn’t.” She shifted slightly, one of her hands tensing and squirming under the covers. “What is there to say?”

It took Adagio a little while to say anything. She looked away, glanced down at the pouch in her hands, then leaned over, dropped it onto the floor, looked back and hesitantly put a hand on Aria’s. Her skin was soft and buttery, and Aria hated how easily it could sway her. She grit her teeth, silently chiding herself. Just say no. I can do it.

“Aria, you…” Adagio paused and breathed, as if the tenderness in her voice was a struggle to maintain. “You’re very important to me…” She paused again, and Aria thought she saw her eyes moistening. “And I don’t want to lose you. I know you haven’t agreed with me lately, and… if you want a little more space, you can have it. I’m not going to ask you to follow me again.”

How did she always do it? Just when Aria had thought she’d finally had Adagio figured out, there was a plea where there should’ve been a command, honey where she’d expected a subtle whip.

Adagio paused, rubbing at her eyes with her empty hand. Tears looked… strange, on her. They snatched everything Aria might have said right out of her mouth and left nothing behind to grasp. “Aria?” Adagio said after a while. “What do you…”

Aria blinked. Twisting her head a little, she glanced to the side at Sonata—who shrugged and looked just as confused—and then leaned a little to peek down at the pouch resting on the ground. “The other you, she can… she can put those things back together, can’t she?” Shut up, she told herself. Stop talking, stop persuading yourself.

“Yes. She can.” Adagio bent over and picked the pouch up, balancing it in her palm before tugging it open. Her fingers dipped inside, and came out holding a ruby. Not even shards, a fully-formed ruby. That thing stole Aria’s attention straight away; her eyes were glued to it, and it took every ounce of willpower she had to not try and touch it.

Even then, she only managed a few seconds. Before she knew what was happening, she was reaching out, and she stopped herself with her fingertips just brushing against the gem’s surface. Her hand stayed there, trembling, and when she finally dragged it back she shivered, still unable to look anywhere but at her ruby.

“Damn it,” she hissed to herself. She wanted to look away, but didn’t. Dreams of thrones and empires and banners bearing her name and temples built in her honor, dreams that she thought she’d conquered, all came rushing back to her, and the gem right there offered to make them all reality and a nagging, burning desire sprang up inside her. “I want it,” she mumbled. “I do, I—I want it, I want to—”

“I know you do,” Adagio whispered. She slipped the gem back into the pouch and set it aside again, then slid a little closer. She touched Aria’s cheek, giving her a little nudge so their eyes met. “But you don’t need to take them, and I wish I’d realized that before.”

More dreams sprang up in Aria’s head. This time, though, they were tempered by a cold touch of reality. She saw herself on a throne, just as she did before, but this time there was a rainbow light ready to topple her. She saw a statue of herself in front of a great marble temple, the crowds of worshippers scattering as a white alicorn stood in a halo of solar flares, blasting it all into ruin. A euphoria she hadn’t realized had been trying to claim her retreated suddenly, and as much as she hated how much power it held over her, being separated was excruciating.

“Adagio, you…” Her eyes flitted away from Adagio’s. She reached out, took the pouch, held onto it for a few tantalizing, agonizing seconds whether she wanted to or not, and then threw it across the room; it landed in the corner, where she couldn’t see it anymore. Then she faced Adagio. Breathing deeply, she reached up and pulled the hand that was on her cheek away. “I don’t care what any of those things tell you,” she muttered, as much to herself as to Adagio. “Is there any way we come out of this with everything we want?”

For a brief moment, Adagio looked at where Aria had thrown the gems, and her eyes were full of longing. Then she looked away, but still not quite at Aria—she hesitated for a moment, but the longing was still there, and it made Aria wonder.

When Celestia comes to tear down this palace, the girl will burn with the rest of them.

Sombra had said that, and Aria remembered. When next she looked at Adagio, puzzle pieces clicked together in her head, and she knew. Adagio bit her lip, met Aria’s stare, and whatever confidence the rubies may or may not have been giving her crumbled. She looked so much less like a goddess and more like a woman just then. “Tender hearts were… were never a luxury sirens could be allowed, were they?” Adagio whispered. She blinked back tears, looked back once more at the gems. “I guess I haven’t been a good siren in a long time, then.”

After a long pause, Adagio breathed a long sigh. “No.” She gave a sad shake of her head. “No, I don’t think there’s any way we can have everything, and…” Back to Aria she looked, and a loving smile made its way to her face. “I’d rather keep…” She paused, and bit her lip again. “I’d rather try to keep what I had than keep trying to reach higher.”

Aria looked at Adagio for a long while. Eventually, she nodded. “Okay. That… that sounds good to me, I guess.”

She couldn’t remember a time when she’d seen Adagio looking happier. Her sister leaned forward, kissed her softly on the cheek, and then drew back, wiping joyful tears from her eyes. “Thank you, Aria.”

Aria was about to mumble something in reply when blue arms abruptly gathered up both of them. “I love you girls,” Sonata murmured dreamily.

Grumbling under her breath, Aria smacked Sonata lightly on the head. “You’re making it weird, Sonata.”

---

The door to Sunset’s room was left open, but Adagio still nearly retreated when she saw who else was in it.

“… I know that it’s far from just of me to ask for your input, but—” Celestia craned her long neck, turning her serene eye to the door and offering a small nod before quickly looking back to Sunset, who was seated on a pillow across from her “—it’s far outside my own perspective. You have every right to refuse, but any insights you could offer would be invaluable. Think it over.”

She started to rise, gently ruffling her wings. Adagio moved closer, raising her hand. “I don’t mean to intrude,” she said, slipping over to hover over Sunset. “Sorry to interrupt, but could I borrow your necklace for a little while?”

Sunset tilted her head slightly, but only questioned after she’d already tugged the loop over her head. “What are you going to use it for?”

Adagio glanced at Celestia, then back to Sunset. “I’ll give you all the details later?” She gulped, and gave her most charming smile. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Okay, sure.” Sunset dropped the geode into Adagio’s palm.

“Thanks.” Adagio stared down at the geode, wrapping her fingers around it as she stepped back and turned to offer Celestia a curtsy. “I’ll leave you two to it, then.”

Maybe Celestia didn't keep her guard up as high given her close history with Sunset, maybe ponies weren't as wily as humans or maybe Celestia just wasn't as subtle as she thought, but the way her supposedly-enigmatic eyes flitted down towards Adagio's closed hand, twinkling curiously, couldn't have been more plain.

Adagio gave her a grin, one that came to her far more easily than the curtsy had. “One day, one of us will just wear a necklace bought from a shop, without any magical powers, and the world won't know what to do” If Adagio had pitched it right—and she had, because Celestia wasn't the only immortal in the room—she'd offered just enough to confirm the initial suspicion, and therefore made the follow-up question all the more teasing for not being asked or answered.
It wasn't often you could get away with one-upping a princess, but rules of etiquette could present such opportunity.

“Interesting,” Celestia remarked, and then fully rose, nodding once to both Adagio and Sunset. “I think I’ve said all I need to. Thank you both for your time.” Her eyes lingered on Sunset just a hair longer, and Adagio saw a subtle kind of wistfulness cross them, but regal composure snuffed it out in an instant. Celestia calmly took her leave, departing without another word.
“Huh.” Adagio held the geode up to her face, staring at it again. It didn’t feel any different, not as far as she could tell. “Any idea what all that was about?”

Sunset frowned as she rose. It took a moment for her, but then her eyes brightened and she nodded gently. “Maybe,” she said, moving over to Adagio’s side, “but don't worry, it's nothing pressing, or even relevant to us. I'll tell you on the way home. How'd it go with your sisters?”

“Good as new.” It came out slightly bittersweet; they were on the right path again, but it wasn't quite the same, and they'd wasted a lot of time getting there. And on that note... “Thought this'd be a good time to go talk to myself for a bit.”

Sunset nodded, a kind smile lighting her features.

Adagio held the geode tightly in her hand and turned for the door. “Right. I’ll be back soon, then.”

---

Other Adagio knelt beside a long box of crystal, one hand resting on the surface. Her face was more desolate than tragic; joy hadn’t been turned to ash for her, just been snatched away, and there was only an emptiness left behind. The sight threatened to tear Adagio’s heart in twain.

She didn’t want to move any closer. The box looked harmless, but the way Other Adagio looked at it told another story. There could be no doubt as to what was inside it, and Adagio didn’t think she could bear to look. Just the thought ushered in macabre images she’d rarely—if ever at all—chosen to dwell upon in the last hundreds of years. The risk of death had always existed for her and her sisters, she supposed, but they’d learned to be careful after the first few close calls, and afterwards…

“This is where they are, isn’t it?” Cutting through the silence helped Adagio find courage. She moved closer, slowly, and it felt like wading through molasses.

Other Adagio spared her a glance. Just a short look, and then she turned her gaze back to the coffin. “Yes. Right here.”

Adagio moved a little closer. The surface facing the ceiling was transparent. Somehow, it didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would when she looked inside, but it still took her a while to speak. “They look peaceful. Did… did they—”

“I don’t—no. No, they didn’t.” Other Adagio did not sound nearly certain, but she made it sound like a comforting lie.

“That’s good.” It took some time for Adagio to tear her eyes away, but she did. She sat down beside Other Adagio and reached out to touch her. “I can’t imagine how this must…”

“No, you can’t.” Other Adagio squeezed her eyes shut, slowly rising, turning her back on Adagio and the coffin. “And you shouldn’t try to. It’s my burden to bear, not yours. You still have yours. Cherish them. Please, whatever you end up doing—”

“I know. I will.” Adagio looked back once at the coffin, then stood and followed Other Adagio. “You could come back with us, if you wanted to. Someone else can take the throne.”

Other Adagio paused. Subtle wistfulness etched onto her face. “No. I won’t do that.” She hung her head, sighing. “There aren’t any other sirens left now, not here. I want the ones who are gone to be remembered, and… and I can’t do that back where you are. No, I need to stay here. As long as I’m here and alive, then—”

Adagio moved over next to Other Adagio, offering a small smile she hoped could be comforting. “Then they’ll look at you and know there were sirens here, once. I think they’d appreciate that.” Up close, the cracks in Other Adagio’s gem were impossible to ignore. Adagio eyed the wounded gem. “But… what are you going to do about this? Without the other two, it’s going to—”

“I know.” Other Adagio held the gem in her palm. “It’s already dying. I don’t know how much time it’s got left.” She paused, and wrapped her fingers tightly around the gem. “But even if it’s only for a year—” her tone made it sound like she thought it would be even less than that “—a year on the throne is better than no throne at all.”

That gave Adagio pause. “You’re going to…” It was worry, first, that plagued her just then. She imagined herself in her double’s shoes, standing atop a palace, beautiful and powerful but lonely, and could see nothing but what wasn’t there. The image was not an unhappy one, though—indeed, a part of her desperately wished their roles could be reversed.

But her sisters had already made up their minds. Breathing deeply, she reached for the pouch in her pocket and held it out. “Take these, then.”

“No. I can’t, I—I won’t. They’re your sisters, and they… they’re not sirens without them.”

“And they’re alright with that. They both are. There’s more than one path to happiness for people like us—and more than one way to sing, even. Our days of being sirens are over, I think.” Adagio cast another wistful look at the gems, fighting the urge to pull them back, reminding herself that Other Adagio would need their power if she intended to rule. “You need these if you still want to be one. Take them.”

Other Adagio looked at her, motionless for a long while. Eventually, she hesitantly accepted the pouch, holding it carefully in her palm. “You have my thanks, then. You and your sisters both. They’ll… they’ll still grow weak, without yours to keep them strong, but…” She attempted a smile, but barely seemed to stop being dour. “You’ll just have to come and visit often, then. I wish you well, wherever your new life leads you.”

She turned without another word, tugging the pouch open as she walked, carefully withdrawing the rubies from within. As soon as she touched one of them, another wave of sadness washed over her.

Adagio looked down at her gem. It was whole again. A reservoir of power with potency that she’d only tasted twice before, right at her fingertips; a year ago, it would have been all that she ever wanted. Songs as old as the world coiled around her, nurturing her, eagerly tending to her needs. If she asked them to, they would lash out and grind her enemies to dust. In her mind’s eye, she looked out over a gleaming empire and a voice whispered to her that it could all be hers. All she had to do was sing.

She wanted to. So, so desperately, she wanted to let her mouth drop open, let a resurrected symphony spread its wings and soar again, let the gem’s power carve out an empire for her to rule over.

While her mouth opened, it wasn’t a song that came out of her lips. “Wait. Take this one too.”

Other Adagio paused, turning around to stare at her. “What? Why would you—”

“Because a queen needs to be powerful enough to protect her empire.”

“I can use one of the other two. You can bring that one, and—”

“And what if the portal fails? What if something happens to me?” Adagio moved closer, cradling her ruby in her palm and gazing down at it. “You need to keep all three with you. I won’t allow it any other way.”

“Are you—”

“Yes.” Adagio stepped closer still. “But there’s one thing I need to do first.” She took the geode out of her pocket, held it in one palm, and focused on her ruby. In her mind, a song that she wished she’d never have to sing bloomed and came to life. She poured a thousand years worth of memories into it, weaving it all together into a story. Times of bliss and times of rest, times of anger and times of bickering, everything. It was a story of two lives, both the good and the bad. She erected a memorial made of sound, sculpted from a sea of harmonies and filled to the brim with memories.

She focused on that song, filled her mind with it, thought of nothing else. Then she reached out towards Other Adagio. “Take my hand.”

Other Adagio frowned, glancing down at the geode in her palm, and then did so. White light swallowed her eyes, and for a few long, silent moments, she was utterly still.

And then, at last, Adagio felt her let go. Other Adagio fell to her knees. Her eyes welled up, but a glint in them told that the tears that streamed down her cheeks were wrought from nothing but joy. Her lip trembled, her breaths quickened. Sounds escaped her mouth, things somewhere between laughs and sobs.

Adagio knelt down next to her, reaching out and laying a hand on Other Adagio’s. “I know it’s not much,” she said, “but—”

Other Adagio seized her in a fervent embrace. Spluttering, half-formed sentences poured out of her alongside her tears. “Thank you,” she managed to say clearly a few times throughout her joyous babbling.

If Adagio hadn’t been smiling before, she would have beamed. She put her arms around the sobbing girl in front of her, holding her tightly and closely and stroking her hair. It felt oddly natural, to have a siren clinging to her chest and weeping into it. She didn’t say anything; she doubted that she had any words that would’ve helped any more than what she’d already done.

A long while later, Other Adagio finally drew back, damp cheeks glistened, reddened eyes still moist as she rubbed at them. “I—I can’t tell you how much that—” She took both of Adagio’s hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. There was a smile spread widely across her face, like a ray of sunshine breaking through a dreary fog. “Thank you. I could say that a thousand times and it still wouldn’t—”

“It’s alright. Twice is enough.” Adagio smiled fondly at Other Adagio, reaching out brushing a few errant strands of hair out of her face, letting a hand rest on her cheek, caressing her gently. “It’s the least I could do.”

“It’s much more than that.” Other Adagio stood slowly, taking Adagio’s hand and pulling her up with her. “If there is ever anything that I can—”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Adagio pulled out Other Adagio’s hand. She pressed the gem into her double’s palm and closed her fingers around it.

Other Adagio opened her hand and stared down at the gem in her palm. She ran her fingers over it, pausing to look up into Adagio’s eyes. When next she held up her hand, there was a shard of ruby, perhaps as wide as Adagio’s thumb, pinched between her fingers, gleaming with an inner light. “You won’t be able to hold much in here,” Other Adagio whispered. “Enough for a few songs, at least.” Without asking permission, she took Adagio’s locket, popped it open, and placed the shard inside. “I’ll fill it up for you when we see each other again.”

“I don’t…” Adagio shook her head slowly, cradling the locket, but a look into Other Adagio’s insistent eyes told her that it was easiest to simply assent.

Still, she couldn’t. It was her failure to stop dreaming of rubies that had made her push her sisters away. “No. I can’t. Keep it here for me. Maybe…” She regretted that last word almost as soon as it left her mouth. “Maybe I’ll sing a song or two when we see each other again.”

Other Adagio nodded. She drew in a long breath, finally reigning it all in, finally calming herself. There was still little but joy to be seen in her eyes when next she looked at Adagio, but it was a calmer sort of joy. She leaned in for one more hug, and they kissed each other’s cheeks, and then they parted. “I’ll look forward to seeing you again.”

“Likewise. Rule well, sister.”

“Hey. Got a minute?”

“Depends. What’s it about to be used for?”

“Well…” Spitfire circled around in front of Adagio, and reached into her saddlebag to procure a bottle of dark red wine. “Turns out being on good terms with the princess has its perks, but this stuff looks too nice to just drink by myself.”

Adagio glanced at the bottle and arched an eyebrow. “Whomever you’re going to share it with, she’d better be pretty stunning, if you’re going to pamper her with something like that.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth. C’mon. I promise I’m not gonna bite you this time. Unless you’re into that, in which case I’m not getting these changed back for a few days.”

“You might need more than one bottle, then. Does Celestia know about this?”

“She gave me the bottle, didn’t she?”

“And I would think that she, of all ponies, would know exactly the kinds of mischief that happen when you put sirens, nubile mares and alcohol behind closed doors.”

“Well, let it never be said she doesn’t pride herself on her open-mindedness. Go on. Ladies first.”

Adagio stepped into the tent. It mostly had all the charm and grace one might expect of a military tent in a frozen wasteland—none whatsoever, in other words—but the bed, of all things, looked downright luxurious. And there was a table, draped in a pristine white tablecloth, with two empty chairs and two fine crystal wine glasses. It all made her cock an eyebrow and glance behind her at Spitfire. “Do I have the princess to thank for all this, too?”

Spitfire chuckled and shrugged. “I have no idea where this all came from.”

“Of course you don’t.” Adagio moved over to the table, idly running her fingers over the surface. “Did Celestia say anything else when she gave you the wine?”

“Nah, just winked.” Spitfire set the bottle down.

“Oh my. Wine from the princess, with a wink?” Adagio put on a coy smile and chuckled. “If you were a siren, you’d have just proposed.”

Spitfire looked at her and waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, is that how it works?”

Adagio shrugged. “Ours is a very elaborate system of courting. They’ve written manuals for it.” She pulled out one chair, and stood by the other. “Shall we?”

“I can hardly wait.” Spitfire rummaged through a pack on the ground, eventually digging out a corkscrew. She paused just when she’d twisted the cork out. “But, uh, before we get started… the princess said she’d tell in the morning, but I thought I’d give you the heads up. It’ll take a few days to get all the Crystal Ponies situated—homes are damaged, families are split up, that kind of thing. We’re gonna stick around, do what we can to help and once we’re done—” She sauntered over to the table, poured two glasses, and held one up with a smirk on her face “—then we’ll all get out of your way, and all these ponies can figure out what kind of crown they’d like to put on you.”

“Really? I wasn’t so sure she’d let me get away with that, the last time we spoke.” Adagio held up her own glass, cradling it lazily in her fingers, watching Spitfire with half-lidded eyes. “Do I have you to thank for that?”

“For once, I can’t take all the credit.” Spitfire cleared her throat and winked. “Or won’t, rather. No, somepony else vouched for you. Princess Celestia didn’t say who.”

Adagio pursed her lips. “Is that so?” She couldn’t think of many people who’d do that for her, let alone anyone whose opinion of her Celestia would be likely to trust. Not like it really matters who, she concluded.

“So I’m told.” Spitfire raised her glass. “To a long and prosperous rule, then?”

“I can get behind that.” Adagio lifted her glass, touched it to Spitfire’s, sipped from it. The taste was sweet, with a potency and flavor entirely surpassing the trite excuses for wine humans could make. Magic really does make everything better.

But then there were other things to address. Adagio glanced down at the sparkling navy dress she wore, sipping again from her wine. Then she looked up at Spitfire and offered a polite smile. “Give me a few moments, if you wouldn’t mind? I’m sure you’d have no objection to watching me shred it, but it’s so hard to find good dresses shaped like this around here.”

Spitfire nodded, busying herself with her glass. “Certainly. Take your time.”

Nodding in return, Adagio set her glass down, reached behind her back, and—pain sprang up in her chest, shooting through her. With a small gasp, she brought her hands back. “H-hang on.” It hurt a little to breathe, and her breath came out short because of it.

Spitfire looked at her, tilting her head slightly. A question was on her lips, but not yet spoken, and Adagio gave a smile to keep it that way. She was a siren, and the situation could damn well wait for her, after all. She tried again, more slowly this time.

But there was that pain again. When she reached, she felt the wound in her chest being tugged on. She breathed deeply, trying to steady herself, muttering a curse under her breath. “Not now,” she hissed quietly.

“Are you…?” Spitfire set down her glass and darted over, eyes full of concern.

“Yes, just…” One more try, and one more bout of pain. Adagio hated having to pull back, hated the way her body protested. “Of all the times to—”

“Hey.” Spitfire was next to her, resting a hoof on her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

Adagio hung her head, sighing. “I… I can’t…” She blinked twice, pressed her fingers to her temple.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Spitfire extended a wing, gently coaxing Adagio towards the bed, nudging her to sit down. “C’mon. Get comfortable and talk to me.”

Spitfire’s wing was surprisingly soft, as was the mattress. Adagio thought about leaping to her feet, hurrying away, and… well, she wasn’t sure what to do next, but it had to be better than staying and looking so graceless. “It’s…” She looked over at Spitfire, so calm and patient. If it weren’t for Sombra, she’d have wondered if any pony had a cruel bone in their whole body. Adagio idly tugged at the hem of her dress. “I’ve been doing this beautiful seductress thing for centuries, you know. Effortless grace, all you’ve ever wanted—you’ve seen me wear ballgowns on the battlefield.”

“And make them look splendid indeed,” Spitfire interjected.

“Well, that goes without saying. But now…” Adagio bit her lip, looked away. The first pony in months she’d been allowed just a few moments of respite with—no battles to fight, no rulers to placate, nothing… “Now that it matters, I can’t even get out of my dress.”

Spitfire raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

Adagio glared at her. “Gaping chest wound?”

Spitfire paused, looked at the ceiling, shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”

Before she knew it, Adagio had snorted, and then a few dry chuckles came. One of her hands crawled downwards, pressing gently until it found the wound—it was just then that something clicked in her head, and she realized that, were she wearing the flesh of a siren, the wound would be right where Sombra had pierced her when he tried to tear her gem out. “I don’t think I can undo this thing without breaking it open.”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Spitfire leaned back to examine the dress from another angle, raising a surprisingly dexterous hoof to Adagio’s back. “I got this.”

To her surprise, Adagio felt the garment slipping; when she looked down, she saw the same wounds she’d just gotten used to an hour ago, but now they all looked to be three times the size and twice as hideous. “Cleavage usually looks better when it’s not mostly scab, too.” Adagio blinked. She felt the bodice of her dress falling, the straps sliding off her shoulders, and each inch of bared skin was like a new knife stuck in her. She lowered her head into her hands, speaking through her fingers. “Why did this have to be now? Can we—couldn’t it have waited just… just a few weeks and I’m sure I’d be…”

The wing that was draped over her bare back was nothing but kind, the voice that spoke to her nothing but soothing. “Of course we can. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

Adagio glanced over at Spitfire, and thought for a moment she might cry. Spitfire had seen her as a thing of beauty, in a time when other ponies ran for their lives, and now it felt like every scrap of that beauty was being peeled away from her. One last bit of Sombra’s spite. “And the one pony I’d really have preferred to not look pathetic in front of…”

“If it helps…” Spitfire shifted her posture a little, nudging Adagio’s arms aside. “Some of them will look ever so dashing, once they’re scarred.”

Somehow, Spitfire’s cheer was infectious, and Adagio felt another smile creeping onto her face. “Like one of those swarthy pirates all the mares go crazy for,” she murmured to herself. Images came into her head and brought a small chuckle out of her mouth.

Spitfire, of course, was quick to join in the laughter. “No, they just… they show that you’ve been through a lot. And that you’re still here. I mean…” Hesitantly, cautiously, she lifted a hoof to Adagio’s bare chest, hovering over an ugly blotch. “These scabs came from beating King Sombra, and there aren’t many things that could’ve done that.”

Adagio blinked. If I had been stronger, I could’ve gotten away without a blemish, a voice in the back of her head whispered. She felt the wound in her chest, looked down and could see nothing but how it diminished her.

“And everypony’s come out of this with injuries.” Spitfire paused, moving away long enough to peel off her flight suit and then coming right back. “My left side is still a mass of bruises from leaping clear when Sombra appeared. My knees are shot for life from all those combat landings. Soarin has a permanent limp, Fleetfoot bit the end of her own tongue off in a crash, Rainbow Dash lost a wing... but the scars you can see have nothing on the ones you can't, inside.”

And that was when Adagio became acutely aware of that ache in her heart. That void that had once been filled by sirens…

Her head sunk as she stared at the floor.

The wing draped over her back was quick to try and comfort. “Maybe someday you’ll tell me about it?”

Adagio glanced at the mare beside her. The wing nudged her closer, and after a little resistance Adagio let herself rest against Spitfire’s side. She could see dark blotches of purple marking the skin underneath, but the coat was still soft—if a little matted and in desperate need of some care.

Everything about Spitfire warmed Adagio as she leaned into her. Like a little candle, with a flickering flame to push back the chill of the void with.

“Maybe one day,” Adagio murmured. “You could…” She paused, a little unsure of where that had come from, but an expectant look told her it was alright to keep going. “You could stay, you know. I’m sure Celestia would…”

“She would.” Spitfire chuckled lightly, flashing a grin and a smirk. “She did.”

Somehow, that sight and those sounds lifted Adagio’s spirit like she thought nothing else could have. Maybe, she thought, resting against Spitfire’s side, content to bask for a little while. Feathers stroked and rubbed her back, as if trying to scrub all her pain away, and she was amazed to say she thought it might be happening. Maybe this can work.

“Oh, so…” Spitfire said, after a long while. “How long do siren engagements last?”

It took a moment for Adagio to catch up, but she did not falter for long. “Few weeks. Why?”

“Oh, just wondering.” Spitfire pointedly look straight ahead, away from Adagio as she gave a nonchalant shrug. “Of all the species in Equestria, that’s just about the last one I’d expect would want to wait until we’re married. It’s very… virtuous of you, let’s say.”

Adagio frowned, then felt her eyes narrowing. “Oh, you evil thing…” Pausing, she leaned back to eye Spitfire from behind, then licked her lips. She slipped out from under Spitfire’s wing, stood long to let the rest of her dress drop to the floor with the soft sigh of silk, then breathed out a note and dissolved into water.

A few seconds later, she was a slender, shapely but scarred mare, leaning atop Spitfire, gazing down at fiery eyes that had an eager glint to them. “If I bleed on you, it’s your own fault.”

“Almost ready?”

Sunset’s voice, from somewhere behind her, put a smile on Adagio’s face. “Almost,” she said, turning just enough to beckon to Sunset with two fingers and then leaning over the railing. “Just… taking it all in, I guess.”

“Yeah? Anything in particular on your…” As soon as Sunset came up next to Adagio, her eyes dipped downwards and she petered off. “You don’t have your…”

Adagio absent-mindedly lifted a hand, pausing when she felt bare skin beneath her throat. “I’ll have to put something else there, I suppose.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I would’ve thought you’d be glad to hear that.”

“Kinda, but at the same time… it was really beautiful, wasn’t it? Your magic, I mean, and if there was a way for you to… I don’t know, still sing but not need to…”

“You might not realize how much you’re asking for. But…” She turned her gaze back, inside the palace, and dreamed of a siren with a hole in her heart that no gem’s magic could fill. “That other woman, she’s me.” She bit her lip, blinked twice and felt her eyes beginning to moisten. “I don’t want to be her, and trying to hold on to that ruby almost made me lose the same things she did.”

She paused again, lowered her head. She could already feel a little ache, somewhere inside of her chest—it felt wrong to her to be separated from her gem, and when she thought of never again having the kind of power and beauty it offered, it terrified her.

And then Sunset was there to help make it go away. An arm looped around her, she found a shoulder to lean on, and a kind smile told her it was alright to be scared. “Don’t worry,” Sunset said. “You’ll figure something out. I know you will.”

Adagio chuckled softly. She thought there were tears ready to drip down from her eyes, but they were short-lived. “Yeah. I know we will.”

Somewhere in the back of her head, she still dreamed of rubies and thrones, but when she looked down below, at the once-dreary, slowly brightening city sprawled out beneath them, a sense of satisfaction welled up inside her. She relaxed, nestled a little closer against Sunset, and savored every drop of the experience she could.

I could get used to this.

Comments

[Ice Star]

Even if this story ends here, and the end is in draft form, it is still worth waiting to have an ending. Thank you for writing.

[Thought Prism]

This was still very good. The genre shift to more of an adventure drama from a slice-of-life drama was a bit jarring at first, and the introduction of Spitfire, Celestia, and Sombra split focus from the main arcs of the Adagios. However, you made it work. Thanks for sharing!

[NaiadSagaIotaOar]

11660817
The genre shift was a big part of what put me off it, I think. Ended up liking the first part quite a bit more than the second, so I was left with the part I liked less also being the much more complicated and ambitious part—not a combination I’d recommend!

Thanks for reading <3

[redandready45]

Spitfire, of course, was quick to join in the laughter. “No, they just… they show that you’ve been through a lot. And that you’re still here. I mean…” Hesitantly, cautiously, she lifted a hoof to Adagio’s bare chest, hovering over an ugly blotch. “These scabs came from beating King Sombra, and there aren’t many things that could’ve done that.”

Don't worry Dagi. You did the best you could!

[forbloodysummer]

I remember reading the first draft of this chapter, six years ago or whatever it was, and thinking the first scene was fantastic and each successive scene grew even better than the last. In that respect, it hasn't changed.