You Can Take my Breath Away.
Author's Note
Inspired by both the song and music video Let Me be Your Hero by Enrique Iglesias.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=koJlIGDImiU
For Monochromatic. Thank you for everything you’ve done in this fandom, and all the wonderful RariTwi that breaks our hearts, mends them, and then shoves those feels down our throats until the choker breaks. This is dedicated to you, and the hope that you never stop writing, or sharing. Thanks.
-ROB
You Can Take my Breath Away.
Hearth's Warming was always such a special time of the year for me. Seasons come, seasons go, but Hearth's Warming was always a reminder of the special times in our lives. My life was full of love, romance, the successes and failures of my work. Through it all, I had that special somepony that would always be there at my worst, or my best.
This ball was like every other. Held in the beautiful ballroom of Canterlot Castle. I didn’t need an invitation. I never did, as it was expected I’d show up on time, or early if I wanted to press the Guard’s patience. Sometimes, they needed it. Twilight called it mean. I would laugh, kiss her lips, and move to the refreshments: it was always customary to have a couple glasses of wine before I began my mingling of the crowds of ponies, gryphons, yaks, and whatever other manner of creatures that partook in the ball.
Twilight made sure to keep it open for any creature, big or small. She even had an outdoor garden cleared so the larger dragons that could no longer fit inside the castle walls could enjoy themselves.
Such a beautiful mare, Twilight. My Twilight, I should enforce, and don’t anypony—Oh, forgive me— anycreature dare forget that. Even when I’m long gone, nothing but dust and faded magazine clippings of dated fashion trends, she will be my Twilight.
And I, her Rarity.
Time is a cruel mistress, I’ll have you know. Equestria has seen my presence on this beautiful planet now for nearly seventy-five years. Naturally, I don’t just tell anypony my true age; after all, a lady is a lady, and we’re all forty.
Twilight looks much older than I do. Not in the sense of wrinkles, stress marks, slowed pace, or even creaking bones.
She is aged in wisdom, intellect, beauty and grace. Tall, standing over most ponies’ heads, yet not looking down on us, but smiling, caring, and eager to hear what we have learned today. She is what I imagine Princess Celestia was in her youth, at the start of her rule those thousand plus years ago.
What? I know she isn’t any longer our princess, but don’t let it stop me from showing her my respect. Nor Princess Luna, for that matter.
It is always such a beautiful sight, Canterlot. When I’m not busy in the shop, toiling away at my works of art, I love to stroll and remember the times shared here. Ponyville will always be my home, but Canterlot… well, it is something special in its own rights.
It has been my home away from home, I suppose, over the last several decades, but Twilight couldn’t rule Equestria from Ponyville. I miss it, but Yona and Sandbar have done a wonderful job at keeping up my dreams there, and always leave my bedroom open in case I stop in for a spell.
The ceilings in the grand ballroom always look higher than they are. Rainbow used to boast about flying up and touching parts “nopony had done in decades”. Then she and Pinkie would giggle, and start making obscene jokes about Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.
The last time they were here, and Princess Luna overheard them… it was priceless.
Bah, reminisce later. Right now, it is time for action!
She is not hard to spot in the room, despite the easily 500 bodies all talking, laughing, sharing, dancing. Her tall frame is an ease to locate. Her gorgeous, flowing mane lets me know the direction she travels, so I can “accidentally” bump into her.
She always rolls her eyes. A silly notion, I know, but I am a hopeless romantic. She knows this as well as anypony, and lets me have my fun. By now the orchestra has shifted from background noise to a slow, but danceable, tempo. I bump into her shoulder with my own, although our height difference makes it a tad difficult.
She looks over, then down to me, and her brief confusion shifts to a gentle, warm smile. She leans her head down. I lick my lips, the wine removing any boring filters I’d normally have when surrounded by this many creatures.
“Would you like to dance?”
Twilight’s smile widens, and she nods. We walk out to where several pairs of creatures are already dancing. We step out, and against the protest of my aching body, I stand onto my rear hooves so that I could wrap my arms around her neck. Her height was quite the disadvantage at times, but we could make it work.
I give her lips a light kiss. She trembles from my touch, and I know she hungers for more. Her desire, fire, passion is still strong as ever. Mine is too, but not as stoked as it once was, although still hot to the touch.
We begin rocking in place, lost to the music, lost to ourselves, each other. The throes of intimate passion might have come and gone for me, save for the occasional ginger root moments we’d get, but that wouldn’t stop me from ever showing her my love.
This mare has done so much for me. Saved me from my worst; cried right along with me when I’d done the foolish, and not looked back at my mistakes, but run with me towards the burning flames.
She takes my breath away.
The orchestra has changed again. Slower, methodical, like they’re performing a surgery, and the only way it can be a success is if we’re both in each other’s embrace. If we fall apart, they fail, and all is for naught.
I lose track of time, the swirls of ponies and other creatures watching us blend into a fluid motion of bright eyes and smiling faces. They’re watching us. We’re in too deep; I’ve lost my mind, but I don’t care.
She’s here with me tonight. I’m with her.
“I will stand by you forever.”
Suddenly, there is a crash of glass, and ponies begin screaming.
Twilight begins to pull from me, but I hold onto her, tight. “I just want to hold you.”
She hesitates, and pulls back into my chest. Ponies begin to run, wine glasses shattering, dishes and torn dresses stomped by hooves as everyone runs in a panic. I don’t know what is happening, nor do I care. We are together.
I sense something from behind her, and without looking I throw up a shield. A green magic arc bounces off helplessly, but I feel the intention. The pain, sorrow, hurt in that magic. Changelings, rogue ones, because not every creature can find peace and harmony, so must take it from others and destroy it.
Amazingly, the orchestra does not relent. The slow pull of strings and gentle blow of winds begin growing in intensity, to the point they’re practically screaming at us for action.
I move away from my love, and Twilight, ever the worrier, looks to me, hurt, confused. I place my muzzle to hers, give her a gentle kiss, and push back with but a few words.
“Let me be your hero.”
We separate, save for our hooves hanging onto one another as we begin to fight back. Our dance shall not be interrupted for the joy of these ruffians, casting magic, throwing overturned tables as barriers, and using discarded chairs as weapons.
The orchestra encounters a brief interruption as a player is hit, but they press on. They know once we dance, they cannot stop until one of us is finished. Octavia is a mare to marvel, her brows covered in a sweat of anxiety blended with passion, for she would go down screaming if she had to.
Royal Guards are on the scene quickly, engaging with the intruders. They dare not interrupt our dance to escort Twilight to safety. This is an all-out brawl, as even some patrons of the Hearth's Warming Ball get in on the action. Yaks stomp, dragons breathe fire, gryphons and pegasi go after those trying to foalnap ponies in the air.
Twilight stands on her rear hooves, matching my movements, not allowing our height difference to affect these practiced moves. I was adamant on the dancing lessons, after all, and dare not let a changeling attack cause those bits to go to waste.
We pull each other close, cast apart, back again, all the while hooves not leaving each other’s. Shields flare, magic blasts rocket from our horns. We weave from attacks, rebound back, send another volley, and our dance never interrupted.
Another of the orchestra is taken down, and I hear Octavia curse as her bass is smashed over a changeling’s head. The others press on, trying, but the string section is at a disadvantage now, the brass and wind doing their best to compensate.
And on we dance. A changeling gets close, and a lucky punch to my side takes my breath away. Twilight is quick to remove the offender, holding me still, eyes glossy and wide. I smile, nod, and we pick back up at a slower pace.
The piano player, a unicorn by the name of Frederic, stands atop his ivory castle, magic flaring brightly as it plays away at the keys, and he fends off another changeling with but his bare hooves.
Royal Guards assisting Yaks as they try to free ponies trapped in goo.
Fire burns the ceiling-high drapes as dragons go after their prey.
Gryphons and pegasi combat in the air, and Twilight’s magic goes to catch any that fall from wing injuries. My shield protecting her while she is distracted.
Another blow hits me, and I scream out. This time magic burns away at my back, scorching my elegant fur. It will grow back, but I’m more upset that such a foul creature would try to take me by surprise like that.
My magic flares, and my shield follows, grabbing debris like a snow shovel, and throwing it at the offender, crushing them under tables, chairs, and broken dishes.
Am I in too deep? Have I lost my mind?
Twilight looks to me, still worried. I smile.
“But I don’t care. You’re here... tonight.”
I kiss her again, and crank my magic to a new level, her love flowing through me as my eyes clench shut, straining my mind, body, and soul as I charge up.
Twilight tries to pull back, knowing quite well what I’m about to do. I gently shake my head, still kissing.
I can see the bright light through my closed lids, and all at once, I release.
I’m not sure how long I lay on the cold marble floor, looking up at the ceiling. Occasional Royal Guard pegasi fly overhead, surveying, looking for something. What could they be looking for, I wonder? Others carry buckets of water towards small billows of smoke in the corners of my vision. I was having the most lovely time dancing with my Twilight, then… then…
Pain screams at me, through my whole body. It hurts, well, I’d say everywhere, but I’m not sure what I can even feel at the moment, my head in a fog of lost passion and frustration at our interruption. Even the orchestra is silent, which is not proper. We aren’t done dancing. They cannot stop until we are done dancing.
I begin to shift, pushing a broken chair from my head, and remove a torn, red-wine-stained tablecloth from my torso. As I pull a hoof towards me, I notice I got some of the red wine on me. That will take forever to remove from my coat, that is for sure.
“Why has the music stopped? We are not done.”
Strange. I know I spoke, but I could not hear myself. My ears are ringing, and a few ponies look to me in shock, bewilderment, and even dread. A pegasus guard quickly rushes off, not even giving me a courtesy glare, for I had teased him earlier at the gate. Rude, I’d say, but I’m more distracted by the fact my rear hooves do not wish to cooperate while I sit up.
That is when I realize there was no red wine. Twilight knew how badly it stained, and would ban it from the ball.
So… what does this mean?
There is Twilight, rushing towards me, crying. An alicorn should not cry, especially not my Twilight.
I speak again, but still don’t hear anything over the ringing. I ask again, a little louder, and I hear a weak voice strain.
“Where is the music, darling?”
She looks at me, stunned, confused, and painfully hurt. She sits in front of me, as other ponies, dragons, gryphons, Yaks, all look worse for wear. Bandages, red splotches, traces of green goo.
Then I see Octavia, limping through the crowd, back towards the stage. I watch her, marvel that even with her barrel wrapped up in gauze, she can walk with such authority. Slowly, other ponies join her, other band members. Some struggle to handle their broken, bent, or nearly destroyed instruments.
The only thing standing strong is the piano, silent, alone, the wall behind it crashed in with splatterings of red. The Hearth's Warming decorations dangling, dragging on the ground from a breeze thanks to the broken window next to it.
I suddenly feel Twilight rest her head against mine, still silently weeping. Her horn glows, and I feel her presence on me, and all at once the pain is gone. The ringing in my ears goes away, and I can actually hear normal.
The music, what little there is, starts up. I try to stand again, but still find my rear legs uncooperative.
“Here,” Twilight whispers, picking me up with her front hooves and pulling me in for a hug, “let me be your hero.”
I hug her, and although I struggle to do much of anything other than hold her tight, we dance. She still is crying, so I try to kiss away the pain.
“I will stand by you.” Forever, is what I want to add, but I know I cannot this time.
We all have our time, and Twilight knows this more painfully than most. And strangely… it doesn’t hurt me like it used to, thinking about that.
I look briefly back to the orchestra. The piano is still silent. Frederic was never one to be late. He must be indisposed.
However, right now, Twilight needs my attention, and I kiss her again. This wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous mare that chose me to be her partner, even though one day I’d be gone and she’d go on.
She holds onto me tighter. My arms feel so heavy, as I struggle to hang onto her. I begin to fall, and she gently lays me onto the floor, looking down at me. I stretch my neck up, and give her another kiss, and whisper.
“You can take my breath away.”
